And she will have it, I think as I snatch up a Morganite Kukri, testing the blade in my grip.
Evan eases into my line of sight again, and her wary look is almost comical on her fully phased face. Her eyes have bled to black, her talons curled around a gold-inlayed, cerulean blue hilted wakizashi. She doesn’t try to speak around her fangs because I’ve heard her try, and that is one sure fire way to get me to laugh my ass off. She sounded like a metal-mouthed teenager with a lisp.
West comes up behind her, his arms circle her shoulders from behind, and he kisses her temple. When he raises his eyes to me, I know.
I know the battle is about to start.
I know that we are surrounded.
I know that it’s likely we won’t make it out of here alive. Or at least Aurelia and I won’t. I turn from his stare and go back to the bed. I lean over her, my fists sinking into the mattress, one hand still holding the Kukri.
Aurelia’s eyebrows are furrowed even in slumber, and I place a kiss on the puckered flesh. I close my eyes and breathe in her scent. I touch my forehead with hers before I snap back up to standing.
I’ll keep them alive. I’ll keep her alive.
I will.
I take my place just outside the bedroom door, shielding Aurelia as best I can. Evan and West take the second floor with Ian and Aidan as backup, the brothers staying to the shadows ready to take out any threat that slips past us.
Just keep breathing. That’s all I have to do.
Keep breathing.
With that last thought, Soldiers begin storming against the outside of Aurelia’s house, trying to find a breach point.
AURELIA
Her first strike is a tease. A silly feint I could easily avoid. The real blow comes when I move to the left, right into her waiting blade. She makes a shallow slash to the skin of my bicep.
Rooky mistake.
As much as it goads me, I have to treat her with the respect she deserves because if I underestimate her, I’m dead.
It’s easy to phase here. One second I’m normal, and the next I’m battle-ready. The flame starts at my fingertips, moving like a brushfire over the skin of my arms and chest and legs coating the skirt of the black dress I just now noticed I’m wearing. What is with this woman and evening dresses? I know I didn’t dream this stupid ass dress on myself.
The wings come next, erupting from the skin of my back and I smile when I hear the fabric of the dress rip. I shudder in relief as the wings fully extend, their blunted tips reaching out to my sides before folding back to resting. Resting but ready.
I remember so clearly how much I wanted vengeance for Lucien.
For my child.
I want it more for myself. For the life I could have had. With or without Lucien.
For Rhys whose only crime was doing the right thing.
For the Wraiths that died in their beds and committed no crime other than being born.
For every Aegis slaughtered.
I shake out my wings, testing how the weight affects my balance. I crack my neck and pop my knuckles.
She wants my A game? She’ll get it.
I wait for her next strike because I can feel it. I can feel everything. I can feel her thoughts in my brain. The incessant buzzing like a swarm of wasps. I can feel my body on the outside laying in bed and here on the inside coated in the warm fingers of my fire.
Somehow, I know if she hurts me here, it hurts me out there. I know if she manages to kill me right now, I’ll be nothing but ashes out there.
Fuck. That. Bring it, bitch.
She finally comes, but I’m not there. Turning her game on her, she growls at my ingenuity in anger, her perfectly painted lips screwing up as she snarls. I wait for her next move, playing with her. I feel my lips pull into a smile.
Who’s the cat and who’s the mouse, now bitch?
Her next attack is interrupted by my fist in her stomach, earning me a gasped groan in response and I’ve flitted off again waiting for the next move. She gags at the blow to her stomach before pulling herself back to standing. Oh, she’s pissed off now, and her Fireskin whooshes over her body faster than I can blink.
Aww. I think I made her mad, I think as I chuckle.
Her wings, though, are a whole other matter; just seeing their mangled appearance wrenches a gasp from my lips.
The feathers are as black as her soul, but most of them are gone, falling away in huge patches showing the raw, red, and bleeding skin underneath.
She's dying.
And then it all comes clear.
If there is no one to send you to hell, then where do you go?
You go nowhere.
19
Next Time I’ll Do It Better
RHYS
The steel storm shutters Aurelia installed in her house are something out of a zombie movie. Evan used Aurelia’s auxiliary generator in the sub-basement to trigger the failsafe, and they slammed shut before any Soldiers got in.
Aurelia missed the attic window in the installation, though, and now they have found a way into the house. They have breached our walls and the battle for survival has begun.
They are faster than I thought they’d be. Better fighters. They move with a fluid grace of eons of practice. But I’m better. We’re better.
I’ve cut through four bodies before I’m met with real resistance. The Soldier before me is a big bastard, but unlike so many of them that we’ve come across, he knows what he’s doing and cutting him down isn’t as easy.
I’m guarding Aurelia’s bedroom, praying no one gets past me. Body after body is piled on the polished dark hardwood floor, scarlet blood pooling under their bulk. My Kukri is coated in the gore of the fallen, the dagger in my other hand, the same. I use my wings to brush off an attacker, and as he flies into the sheetrock, another comes to my left. His blade is drawn, ready to cut me down like an errant weed when my dagger breaches the unfortunate gap in the ribs of his body armor.
West and Evan are paired back-to-back, moving to the living room after being pressed down the stairs. They pluck the life from Soldier after Soldier, moving in tandem as if they had been fighting together all their lives. West goes high as Evan goes low, spinning and slicing, smoking out and back again, moving as one.
Ian and Aiden are staying to the shadows, exterminating any that get past the three of us. Aidan pops in and out of the shadows, slaying Soldiers as he passes while Ian stays in the gloom and lies in wait.
Although we have only fought together in one battle, I feel Aurelia’s absence. Especially when a big motherfucker gets a hit in. The hiss of pain that leaves my mouth is not by my consent.
I feel the warm wetness of the blood seeping through my shirt at the shoulder, and going by the added sting it renders, the blade was Morganite.
Fucking bastards.
Now I’m pissed. I parry my blade against his as he goes for my head, getting him in the throat with my dagger. I twist the knife, opening up his throat before ripping out my blade and moving on to the next one. And the next one.
Cutting them all down until I meet one I can’t.
I’m dead.
I know it.
My left arm is useless, hanging listlessly at my side. The Soldier in front of me has bested every strike and parry, every feint and backhand.
Everything.
I see him raising the blade, and I realize my defeat. Sliding my eyes closed, I pray someone sends us on. I pray that when Aurelia and I are reborn, we start again.
That we do it better, smarter. With less hate and more love. I don’t regret a second, because if one thing is certain, she is my heaven.
She is my peace. And if I get nothing else, I will know my heaven is out there somewhere.
And I’ll find it.
AURELIA
I hear his cry of agony. Even from here in my subconscious, stuck in my mind like a fly in sap, pinned in this hell with a psychopath, I can hear him hurting. The skin of my shoulder splits, blood running the length of m
y arm. I feel my chest compress and my heart nearly shrivel. Oh no.
I’ve had about enough of this shit.
She’s not as composed as she was before. Her hair is disheveled and falling from her chignon, the braid nearly unraveled. Her lipstick is smeared, bleeding into the skin of her cheek.
She goes for me again, but with renewed vigor, slashing and stabbing wildly. But she’s making mistakes. Mistakes she shouldn’t make with someone like me.
Someone who can kill her.
I step to the side, barely missing a wild slash, before reaching up and latching onto her long, intricate braid, wrenching her head one way as I knock her legs from underneath her.
The blade goes flying, shattering into five smaller pieces, skittering across the parquet floor. I use the distraction to flip her lithe body over and smash her pretty little face into the floor, hearing her pert nose crunch. I scramble off of her to grab a piece of the broken blade, tagging the shard as Iva staggers her way back to standing.
The front of her white dress is brilliantly splashed with the red running from her nose and mouth. She spits, teeth and blood hitting the floor, and I can’t help the gleeful smile that stretches across my face.
She shrieks as she runs for me, fingers descended to blunted claws, broken teeth bared. Her scream is cut off to a gurgle as the shard slides through the smooth skin of her long throat.
Bet she didn’t see that coming.
Her eyes bug wide as her lifeblood leeches from her body, running down her chest, down her dress and pooling on the floor of my mind. She staggers, stumbling to her back.
She gurgles a gasp once, twice and then stills.
She’s not breathing, but I don’t trust it. To be sure, I take the shard in my hand and saw through the remainder of her throat, going through tissue and bone, taking her head. The jagged double edge slices into the flesh of my hand, but I don’t care.
I’d wear those scars with honor.
RHYS
I wait for a strike that never comes. I feel like a pussy when I open my eyes and see the Soldier in front of me looking at the blade as if he has no idea how it got there.
The rest of the Soldiers, at least the ones still standing, have similar expressions on their faces. It’s like a veil has been lifted, and now they see the truth.
I wonder how many minds Iva controlled to do her bidding. How many poor souls were used to perpetuate a war that no one wanted? It makes me sorry we killed them true dead, but the good ones we’ll send on and the rest, good riddance.
I look through the bodies to find Evan slightly bloody hugging an equally splattered West. Both seem a little banged up, but no permanent damage. They are all over each other, so I think the relationship cat is out of the bag. Not that it was a surprise to anyone except for Aurelia. It was the worst kept secret in the Black compound.
I don’t see Ian or Aidan, but I hear Ian’s booming laugh, so I know the brothers are okay.
A loud clank of a chain comes from behind me, and the best voice in the whole world starts cussing a blue streak.
“Goddammit, I have to pee! Can a girl get a fucking rescue here, shit?!”
That’s my girl.
I try to reach across my body to pull the key from my pocket, but it’s not really working out.
“A little help?” I ask Evan.
She looks at my pocket, then at West. She shakes her head and grabs Aurelia’s chain, snapping it from the steel subframe with a tiny flick of her fingers.
Well, that’s one way to do it.
“Thank God!” Aurelia sighs as she hightails it to the bathroom, dragging the chain behind her, swiping a quick peck on my cheek on her way out.
Well, it feels like a real marriage now.
She comes back looking relieved even though she is wounded. Her left arm is bloody, and I realize we both need stitches, but I can’t bring myself to care. I should ask what happened, it was plain to see that two battles were being fought. But I don’t care about anything but kissing my woman.
So that’s what I do.
I reach out with my good hand, sifting my fingers under her thick mane, bringing her lips to mine, tasting the mint of freshly brushed teeth.
I pull my head back, raising my brows in question.
“What? I multitasked. I didn’t want to kiss you with three days worth of funk on my breath. I’m considerate, dammit,” she gripes.
“Did you hide your spitting too?”
“Shaddup,” she says as she sweeps her lips against mine, effectively shutting my mouth.
Epilogue
AURELIA
The raid on the house in the Willamette National Forest where I had escaped from happened as soon as we could make it on a plane without causing a stir. Rhys and I got our wounds treated; everyone got a shower, and off we went.
There is no resistance at the gate. Even with two exiles and four Wraiths in tow. The Soldiers practically wave us in.
The house is buzzing, more because of the reappearance of Nicola than anything else. Apparently, Nicola had been cast out over a month ago when the Gentry were recalled from their posts and with no one able to find Iva, Nicola has taken up the position of Primary.
It takes hours, and we’ve searched all of the rooms in the prisoner hallway where I was kept, but we cannot find Iva’s remains or the girl I wanted to save.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about that girl is clawing on my mind. Since my mind has been clawed enough, I need to know she’s alright.
From what we gathered from the Soldiers and Gentry, Iva killed most of the prisoners before Soldiers were sent on the raid on my house. Their bodies were sent back to their families, but their souls were gone.
I finally break down and ask Nicola where Iva’s personal quarters are so we can try and get some answers, and she is happy to oblige, as long as I say please.
“Please,” I say grinding my teeth, and she accepts my half-assed gesture. Bitch face.
She leads us up to the third floor, to an opulent bedroom with brilliant red tapestries on the walls, gold inlayed fixtures, and crystal chandeliers. All along the east wall are enormous built-in bookcases. Some of the columns are filled with books, but many, so many, of the others are filled with gray canisters. I move closer, and I realize what I’m looking at.
Glass jars.
Glass jars filled with ashes.
I feel the energy coming from them, thick, vibrating energy.
I know that feeling.
I’ve been missing that feeling since Iva took my Aegis away, and when I finally understand…
This is how she had so much power, why she lived so far past the norm for our species. This is why the Aegis were being slaughtered.
The horror brings bile up my throat. How many lives is she responsible for? I cannot begin to count the jars displayed like trophies on the shelves.
“Hey, come look at this!” Ian calls from the other side of the room.
On the wide, king-size sleigh bed, there are remnants of ashes on the duvet and sheets, but it looks as if someone has hastily scrapped them off the fabric.
Shit.
Who knows what kind of nut job could have those ashes. And given the number of jars in this room…
She could be anywhere. And given the right spell, someone could bring her back.
* * *
It takes days to send each of the souls on. We go through every single jar. At the final count, there were two thousand and sixty-eight jars.
Only fifty of those souls were handed over to the Wraiths to consume. Only fifty souls that were evil. Of two thousand and sixty-eight souls in that room.
My mind still refuses to make sense of the carnage.
After we go through the jars on the shelves, we raid every nook and cranny of the remainder of Iva’s room coming up empty.
I plop down on a fragile looking settee, secretly hoping I break it. I catch a faint noise near my left ear. I stop moving and shush the room, silently waiting
for the sound again.
There.
Beyond the thick material on the north wall, I hear a weak moan. No one else hears it, but I know someone or something is behind that wall. West and Rhys work together and rip the tapestry draped across that wall from its rungs revealing a small wooden door.
West steps back and kicks it in with his wide, heavy boot. The stench wafting from the depths of the black room speak of death and blood and torture.
Rhys lights up his right hand and steps close to the ailing body of an emaciated unconscious girl. This is her. The girl I’ve searched this whole fucking place for. Her hair is covering her face, and when I pull it back, my world nearly spins off its axis.
“What, Gorgeous, you okay?” Rhys asks, but he couldn’t know. Only someone as close as we once were would recognize her now.
“That’s Mena,” I say on a gasping sob.
“That’s my sister.”
THE END
* * *
Don’t miss the next book in the series!
FALLING ASHES
(Mena & Asher)
FALLING ASHES
ASHES TO ASHES - BOOK 2
For Mena Constantine, abilities come with a hefty price.
Finally freed from her fifty-year imprisonment, she's desperately trying to recover and get her old life back. Problem is, what she had is long gone. It doesn't help that the same abilities that took her parents from her are leaking into her body faster than she can stop.
Asher Crane is a dead man.
As a Guardian to the King, his only purpose in life is to keep the King alive. And he's failing. Miserably. With the King ill, the Queen dying, and zero plans for a successor, he's pretty much screwed. Because if the King dies, the law says Asher dies, too.
Time is quickly running out, and these destined souls will have to contend with death as it beats down their door.
Scattered Ashes Page 16
