Dreadful Ashes

by Annathesa Nikola Darksbane

  I sighed, letting the air whistle out of me softly as I watched Tamara spin the other woman around and around in the air, Kitty’s icy blue eyes twinkling merrily. It wasn’t until I’d admitted my attraction to Tamara to myself that I’d also realized how uncomfortable—jealous, really—her close, possibly intimate friendship with Kitty had made me.

  Tamara broke off the hug early and swatted my arm without looking over.

  Seemingly unaware of my conflicted emotions, Kitty took a step forward and hugged me as well, though not with anywhere near the same level of affection. At close range, I noticed the dark, night’s sky-patterned scarf wrapped loosely around her neck—no doubt hiding the gruesome burn scar that would forever adorn her soft caramel skin, a final reminder of her cruel torture at Meladoquiel’s borrowed hands.

  I gave her a gentle squeeze and adjusted my mask. We all had our scars to bear, I supposed.

  As soon as I released her, thick, strong arms wrapped around me from behind, lifting me easily from my feet and yanking me forcefully into a grip that would have cracked a mortal’s ribs.

  “Ashley!” Hershel roared my name in a point-blank greeting, smothering me in a mildly-uncomfortable bearhug. I didn’t bother struggling. The oversized fairy only squished me for a moment before dropping me unceremoniously back on my feet, the abrupt ambush over. “And Tamara! How are you? Long time no see!”

  I shook my head at Kitty, jerking my thumb at Hershel as he chased Tamara down for a follow-up hug. “Man, this guy,” I sighed. “I don’t see how you deal with him on a daily basis.”

  Kitty chuckled quietly, an ethereal sound like chimes in the wind, one more thing to change since her Fae blood had awakened. “Hersh? Oh, he’s not so bad.” She shot an amused smile past me. “One could say he…grows on you.”

  “Ow! Plant jokes? Really?” In response, the bulky, overweight fairy finally let Tamara go, circling around into my field of vision and pretending—badly—to pout. “I mean, at least put some effort into it.” But his expression broke into a full grin a moment later, splitting his wild beard with the same jovial humor and energy that glinted from his storm-gray eyes. “Unless you really just want to see a big guy cry.” Coming up behind Kitty, he towered over the tall woman, pausing for a moment to pat her fondly on the head. “Come on, let’s all have a seat or two, shall we?”

  Hershel, Warden of the Green and formal protector of the Birmingham Fae, led us across the Hilltop Garden, past the long black pool that reflected the starlight back into the sky and the draping bush-trees that brushed at us with soft lavender fingers. At the end of the pathway, beneath the architecture and statues, a long marble table and a pair of matching benches awaited us, though several simple wire patio chairs also clustered around for better comfort.

  We all picked one and sat, Tamara scraping her chair closer to mine before settling back and smiling across the table at Kitty. “So…how's it been?” She promptly made a face before the other woman had a chance to respond. “That seems so…inadequate, doesn't it? We haven’t even talked for months.”

  “And?” Kitty shrugged and followed it up with a smile. “It’s not like we stopped being friends just because you’ve had to lie low for a while.” The fairy leaned back, sweeping sleek ebony hair out of her face with her long, delicate fingers and considering the question for a moment. “Busy. If I had to sum it all up in word…busy.”

  “The club keeping you that occupied?” I rasped, curious. I hadn’t done much more than lay occasional eyes on the Abyss since Tamara had relinquished ownership of it several months ago.

  “Not just that.” Kitty shook her head. “Running the Abyss has been…fun, actually.” At my side, Tamara breathed a tiny sigh of relief. “I don’t just write the set lists, or DJ, or even jump start the party by getting out on the dance floor. I’m in charge. And considering the clientele you left me with…” She smirked amusedly—almost viciously—at Tamara. “…let’s just say it’s nice to have the people that would look down their nose at me anywhere else jump when I snap my fingers, just ‘cause they don’t wanna get on my bad side.” She grinned. “Of course, the dancing and DJ work and everything else is a blast, too. I have a guy now that takes care of the paperwork, and another for marketing. Garibaldi’s men still run security, leaving me with nothing but the fun for the most part. I feel…free, to be honest. For once.”

  “I’m glad, but kinda surprised it’s still doing so well,” Tamara commented. “I was a little worried the whole venture would die out after the novelty wore off.”

  “Nah,” Kitty shook her head. “Not even close. We’re still the new hotness, and all that Moroi money you poured into it makes it sparkle like a gem. Everything else looks old and outdated by comparison.”

  “Probably because it is,” Hershel rumbled, running a hand through his unruly, red-brown hair. “This is Birmingham, remember? This town’s been stagnant for what…twenty years, at least?”

  “And generally on the decline since the last blast furnace closed in the seventies,” Kitty added. “And that irks you to no end, doesn't it?” She smirked at the big fairy.

  “Yeah?” He shrugged. “Of course I’d be more comfortable in a place where things were growing, changing.” He glanced around indicatively at all the plants. “I crave progress. It’s in my blood by now.” Clear plastic crinkled as the Warden pulled an intact honey bun from somewhere in his cargo pants and started unwrapping it. “But this is where I need to be, so…” He stuffed it into his mouth with another shrug.

  “So if it’s not the Abyss eating up all of your time…” Tamara glanced between the two fairies. “Is it because of your…new education?”

  Behind the damaged honey bun, Hershel nodded.

  Kitty mirrored the motion, her face serious. “Trying to learn the rules of an alien culture before someone or something inevitably uses them against me, or I make a mistake in dubious company and end up on the wrong end of a grudge with a centuries-old sidhe, or something?” She bared her teeth in a superficial grin. It wasn’t a humorous expression; it wasn’t even an entirely human one. “It’s a crash course I’d be silly not to throw myself into.”

  “But it’s not entirely bad,” Hershel prompted around a mouthful of icing.

  “I guess that’s fair.” Kitty relaxed back into her chair again, sighing out tension I hadn’t noticed accumulating. “Exploring a whole new world, a whole new me…it’s not something I ever asked for. But it’s not without its highlights.” This time, the smile was a little more genuine.

  “Like the whole singing thing earlier.” I nodded. I could sympathize even if I didn’t fully understand.

  “What do you know so far?” Tamara leaned forward with interest, leaning her elbows on the equally pale marble table. “About your heritage and all? Do you know anything for certain yet?”

  I studied Tamara’s profile in the flickering light; I thought I saw her smile waver, an almost imperceptible tremor of guilt. I found myself wondering just how much she still blamed herself for Kitty’s unwanted life changes.

  Across the table, Kitty shared a long look with her husky new mentor and sighed. “So far? I know that Fae blood runs through my mother’s veins, but she’s been…conveniently out of town since I started changing.” She huffed and shook her head, as if unsurprised. “Besides that, I seem to have the blood of the Dusk, though it’s still not clear-cut yet. And as for my powers…” she trailed off with a smile, her voice effortlessly shifting into a deep-throated, crystalline, wordless melody that seemed to curl through the air, chilling it with shades of melancholy.

  “Wow,” Tamara breathed appreciatively, her breath a frosty whisper. “Awesome.” I nodded.

  Kitty inclined her head graciously, icy blue eyes twinkling. “So far, so good. I like it, anyway.” She cleared her throat, her voice losing its otherworldly edge and returning fully to normal. “According to Hershel, my heritage is to inspire: equal parts beauty and longing, sadness and fear. The problem is that while I seem
drawn toward the Dusk Fae end of the spectrum, there are still those on the Dawn side that claim a similar nature. So we can’t be certain until I learn more, catch up to my mother, or develop further.”

  “Inspire fear, huh?” I traded raised eyebrows with Tamara. “That’s an interesting coincidence, considering who we ran into recently.”

  “Hmmmmm?” Hershel’s bushy brows furrowed with curiosity.

  “What do you mean?” Kitty sat up straighter, immediate interest in her eyes as well.

  “Well, as coincidence would have it, we had a little run-in with a Fae that inspired fear just the other night,” Tamara said, a shiver tracing one slender shoulder.

  “Called himself Fright,” I added, placing a discretely reassuring hand on the small of the Moroi’s back. “For such a little guy, he packed quite a punch.”

  Hershel’s eyebrows shot up, his storm-gray eyes getting a little wider. And stormier. “You don’t say. Did he introduce himself as that, or…”

  “Yeah, right before the introduction phase became the lets-punch-each-other phase.” I replied, eyeing the fairy. “Why? Do you know him?”

  “Maybe,” the Warden responded noncommittally, his tone far too neutral to be accidental.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. He flashed me his teeth in response, but it didn’t really look like a smile.

  “That’s…actually part of why I texted you,” Tamara glanced between us before turning her attention to Kitty. “Not that I didn’t want to catch up, but I was kind of hoping you could help us out.”

  “Tamara,” Kitty leaned across the table and took Tamara’s hands in her own. “After everything you’ve done for me, just name it.”

  Hershel broke the staring contest with me to slowly turn his head in Kitty’s direction, eyeing her flatly.

  “…within reason,” Kitty finally amended the offer with a sigh.

  Tamara smiled. “It’s fine. I appreciate any help I can get right now, since I can’t go to my old contacts anymore.”

  I settled in as Tamara told the two fairies of what we’d stumbled across at the old collector’s home, and what had led up to it—though I took over when she got to the part about us meeting Fright. The incident had already left its mark; there was no need to make her keep reliving it.

  Kitty sat up straight as we wrapped up the details. “I’ll be honest—”

  “Not that you can be anything else,” Hershel nudged her.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m interested. With mother off who knows where, I need someone to help me explore the possible Dusk side of my nature, since Hershel can’t.” He nodded approvingly, combing some crumbs from his prodigious beard. “And what you described…” Kitty shivered, then grinned, her eyes almost hungry, and a tinge predatory. “It stirs something in me. Something I want to investigate if I can.”

  “Might be a big step forward for you,” Hershel’s voice was still carefully neutral. I frowned at him, but he wouldn’t look my way.

  “I don’t want to drag you into our mess,” Tamara said. Not again, I read in her eyes.

  Kitty puffed dismissively, producing a cell phone from somewhere in her outfit. “I’m involving myself. Okay?” The phone powered up, its pale glow highlighting her face ghoulishly, and she started thumbing through something on the screen. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll see what I’ve got.”

  Quiet fell, save for the wind stirring the plants and the song of a few night birds and insects. Tamara still seemed uncertain, and I didn’t want to keep playing tag with Hershel’s gaze, so I decided to fill the silence instead. Besides, I couldn’t help myself. “So…I have to ask.” I grinned. “How’s it going with you and Rain?”

  Across the table, Kitty fumbled her phone, stared at me, then sighed. “Well, despite the fact that the Abyss is full of Moroi and he’s about four years under legal drinking age…he still finds a way to sneak into the club at least once a week and see me.” She shook her head and returned the bulk of her attention to her phone. “I’m not even sure how, but I blame Jason.”

  I snorted.

  “Rain’s a good kid,” Kitty continued, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “He brought me my favorite flowers for my birthday. I like him. But…”

  “But he’s still just a kid,” Tamara finished for her.

  Both women nodded, and I was just silently glad that Rain wasn’t nearby, to overhear and have his still-emerging confidence flattened. At least, I hoped he and Jason weren’t around. I took a quick look at all the shadows and shrubbery in the area; you could never be completely certain there wasn’t a coyote nearby.

  “…he’s just young. He’ll grow out of it,” Tamara was saying as I refocused on the conversation. She was wearing a soft, sad smile, and I wondered what I’d missed. “Jason, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about.” The Moroi shook her head. “Every time I think I have him figured out, he slips something past me. And that’s me.”

  “Yeah. And what’s up with—” Kitty cut off suddenly, her eyes lighting up. “Hold on a minute. I’m on to something.” Her fingers flickered across the screen, swiping out a message.

  I managed to wait patiently for a minute or two before looking over at Hershel. “So. I’ve been wondering this for a while. If you’re Cycle of Dawn, and Kitty’s Cycle of Dusk, why are you helping her?” I stretched stiffly in my seat. “Aren’t you two supposed to be at war or something, like in every fantasy story ever?”

  “Oh, Ashley.” My friend shook his head sadly, presumably at my profound ignorance. “There is no war. Just a balance. The twin Cycles rein each other in; we keep each other from going too far, whether that would be rampant, unchecked change or a descent into inescapable entropy.” He smirked. “As a Warden of the Dawn, it’s my duty to…interfere when the Cycle of Dusk goes too far. Just like it would be their responsibility to do the same if our positions were reversed.” Hershel sat back and folded his arms across his Final Fantasy t-shirt. “So you see, helping Kitty is actually helping myself…not that I mind. I wish someone had been there to help me when I—”

  “Ah ha!” Kitty’s excited voice cut the air across us, clear and supernaturally crystalline. “So.” She’d gained our undivided attention. “Turns out I know an antiques dealer…a friend of the family, in fact. He knows the guy that you two found, and I think he can help us figure out what’s going on, too. He said he thinks there may be more going on than we realize.”

  I blinked. “Wow. Thanks, Kitty.” I found myself impressed by her quick results.

  Tamara put a hand on my arm, grinning. Her excitement was literally contagious. “Is there any chance he can see us this late, or…”

  “Already messaged him,” Kitty smiled. “He said he’ll wait up.”

  7

  Unwelcome guests

  For the third time, my knock rang hollow on the heavy mahogany door. I glanced at Kitty.

  “He’s not answering my texts anymore.” She tucked away her phone, worry heavy in her eyes and twisting her mouth into a frown. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, I pressed my hand against the door, harder and harder, feeling for supernatural resistance. “You should,” I rasped in reply, keeping my voice low. “His threshold’s nearly gone.”

  “I knew I felt something,” Tamara hissed urgently, unbuttoning her messenger bag. “We need in there, now.”

  “Wish granted.” I forced the door with my shoulder and led the way, the diminished threshold little more than a nuisance, and found myself in an immaculate, richly-appointed foyer bathed in the guttering, dying light of the electric chandelier overhead. From somewhere further in, the vague th-tump of a solitary heartbeat stuttered and slowed, begging for urgency.

  I looked to Tamara, and she wordlessly directed me deeper into the depths of the house’s sprawling first floor.

  We found Kitty’s contact in his magnificent study, laying on his back in a growing pool of his own blood, a thick, slightly curved blade embedded obsce
nely deep into his lower ribs.

  A short figure crouched low over him, cradling his head gently, whispering insistently to the dying man. At first I hesitated, expecting Fright, but instead the dim light and see-through shadows revealed a young-looking, slender Asian man in a slim, stylish casual suit of silver and ebony.

  “Mr. Alvarez!” Kitty called out the name of the middle-aged gentleman on the floor, and I glanced over my shoulder in time to see the fear and alarm in her eyes turn unexpectedly to fury. “You! Whoever you are, get the hell away from him!”

  Instead of responding, or even acknowledging our presence, the slight, kneeling man caressed the white silk wrapping the blade’s handle gently. He kept his eyes on his victim’s face, watching as Mr. Alvarez tried to force breath past the crimson stream dribbling thickly from his mouth. “See what your stubbornness has wrought?” A soft sigh and a frown marred the stranger’s well-sculpted features, his countenance smooth, ashen, and lifeless. “Now I must pull my blade from your ribs, and you will bleed to death. Then I will be forced to kill your young friend, and her friends as well.”

  “Let me redefine that for you.” I took a long couple of strides forward, finally drawing the assailant’s attention. “You dare pull that blade out, and I’ll shove my foot so far up your asshole they’ll see it from space.”

  He blinked once, meeting my angry gaze with tranquil, smoky-gray eyes like a pair of cracked glass orbs. “You. I know you.” He spoke in barely-accented English and, despite the claim, he didn’t seem very concerned. “I will give you one chance, right now. Take your companions and go. Interfere, and I will be forced to slay you.”

  “Funny,” Tamara growled from my side, her voice soft, silken, and dangerous. “I was about to say the same damn thing.”

  Prone on the floor, Alvarez stirred. He reached out toward us weakly, his lips moving with a whisper of breath. I could hear his heartbeat struggling stubbornly if sluggishly; he was alive if not by much.

  His would-be murderer, I wasn’t so certain about.