“No,” he corrected, his words chilly for the first time. “I’m speaking as someone who lived through that time. You are judging what you cannot understand.
“This is a different day, a different time and age. You cannot understand the sacrifices your grandmother made for you, and nor should you. She made them freely and openly. With no cost to anyone other than herself.” He grunted. “And her Virgo.”
There was anger now, and that I understood. Bitterness too.
“I’m confused,” I admitted, eying him warily. He wasn’t talking in riddles, but for as much as I understood what he was talking about, he might as well have been.
Sol, riddles in Mandarin would have made more sense to me.
“A lot has happened,” he conceded, then, with a wave of his hand, clambered to his feet. His wings had made an abrupt appearance and I realized he used them to shift from his position just to my left, on a low leather armchair that had more wear and tear on it than a cat scratching post, so he could stand with more ease.
Exactly how old was he?
The sudden realization that I had family I’d only just come to know hit me. But Linford was old, really old if he needed his wings to improve his motility.
Was it stupid to wonder about how much time we had left together?
Throat thick, I watched as he settled on the ground after fluttering upright from his seat. His wince was tiny, but he kept it subdued as he stood without support from his wings, and he turned around and headed for a tray that was on a dresser in the corner.
It was the first real moment I’d had a chance to look at my surroundings, and what I saw? Well, it was eclectic to the max.
It was like the sixties, seventies, and noughties had had a baby. There were the clean lines of minimalism evident in furniture that was cuboid in shape. The sofa had square lines, as did the two leather armchairs. But the dresser and coffee table were made from metal and had swooping paisley designs hammered on them that reminded me of Linford’s kaftan.
Two of the walls were cream, but one was lined with a strange fabric that looked hairy. I’d used it in my time as an assistant to a fashion designer—hessian. I knew it had been highly fashionable in the seventies, as were the dark green velvet curtains that draped over a picture window that looked out onto the ocean.
The ocean!
I blinked at the sight, as well as the garden that I could also see from this vantage point. The yard was blooming. That was the only way I could phrase it. I felt like I’d been dumped into the middle of The Jungle Book.
Tearing my gaze from the rich blue sea as well as the tropical flowers that, if I’d had a green thumb, would undoubtedly have given me a clue as to my location, I looked around the room once more, taking in the sheer size of the place.
Shelves lined the remaining wall, and they were loaded with books, but there were also small spaces where ornaments were used as bookends. Anything from ceramic monkeys to metal drums were dotted here and there. A brightly colored rug covered the floor, splotches of red and blue flowers amid the weave adding more color to the eclectic mix, and there were random throw cushions dotted around the space, and even a bean bag.
And I was on said bean bag. A huge polka-dotted one that, miracle of miracles, supported my battered wings without putting pressure on my back. I’d loathed the damned limbs from their sudden appearance at eighteen, and had spent most of the time since hiding them. Until the Academy, that is, when I’d had no choice but to have them out on display at all times in public. Who knew that bean bags were the cure all after a hard day’s flying?
When Linford returned with a bottle of water, I sat up with a faint groan and whispered, “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “It was rude of me not to offer you some refreshments sooner. You came as a great surprise. I hadn’t thought to see you again.”
On the brink of taking a sip of water, I froze. “Why?”
“You have your Virgo now. They’ll keep you safer than I can.”
His tone was so matter-of-fact I wanted to scream. I felt like he was being blasé in the face of my utter confusion. Why didn’t he understand that I was lost? That I had no clue what he was talking about?
Instead of yelling at him, I sucked down a breath, begged Gaia for patience, and queried, “Do you mean to say that if I hadn’t been caught in a magical storm, if someone hadn’t tried to snatch me away, I would never have met you?”
He nodded. “It was how your grandmother wanted it, and though I didn’t always listen to her, I did in this.”
“But why?” I whispered, suddenly heartbroken at the prospect.
Why had my abuela tried to deny me my abuelo? Sol, all of my grandfathers.
Though it wasn’t by blood, Noa vil der Luir was also my grandfather. Technically. And there was Noa’s twin brother, as well as the kin of the troupe brother, Gerard, who’d died a long time ago. More people tied to me who might be able to explain what the Sol was happening. Why had Grandmother tried to keep me apart from the only family who would ever be able to understand my position?
I’d thought I was weird enough being a witch born Fae. But the fact that someone had tried to kill me once, and now snatch me? And that my grandmother had told me lie after lie in a bid to… what? Keep us safe? There was definitely more to this than I could even begin to understand, and I knew that if I was in the dark, then my mother was practically in Sol’s lair. And though that might sound luminous, everyone knew his lair was the darkest place in the known realm. It made the human’s hell look bright and breezy.
Abuela had cut off access to people who could have helped me make sense of my situation… so, why?
He tipped his head to the side, and though he didn’t answer my question, his reply touched me. “You truly are upset by the notion, aren’t you?” he asked, brow puckering. His surprise was genuine, and that was something else I was coming to see about the man. Perhaps because he was too old to prevaricate, or because he just saw no need to lie any more, he was being truthful.
Or, as truthful as he could be within the confines of my grandmother’s dictates.
Suddenly furious with her, and him as I thought about everything I’d missed out on, a whole fucking world that had been denied to me without justification, of her coming to me while I took a Sol-damned bath and lying to me about everything, I spat, “Yes, yes, I’m upset! Had I known you you could have warned me, helped me… Why keep me in the dark like this? Why keep my mom in the dark?”
He winced. “If there is one regret I have in this life, it is that I did not get the opportunity to come to know her.”
“That’s bullshit,” I rasped. “Absolute BS, abuelo,” I snarled, the rage firing me up in a way that stunned me because my ‘trip’ here had exhausted me, and I was bone-deep weary, yet, for this argument, I was more than willing to burn myself to a crisp. “You could totally have helped us. You knew about us all along, knew who we were and probably knew where we were. But instead of coming and doing that, you let us rot.
“There were eleven of us in a three-bedroom apartment in Overtown. We were in the goddamn ghetto, and all for stupid reasons that only you and my abuela seem to understand. I spoke with Noa vil der Luir only yesterday, and he didn’t know—”
Linford stiffened at that, and interrupted, “He wouldn’t.” He rapped on his temple. “I made sure of it.”
Gaping at him, I whispered, “Why?”
“Because I had to keep you safe,” he repeated calmly, highlighting my loss of control in the face of his serene façade.
My jaw ached as I ground my teeth. “And that means leaving us to live in the most dangerous part of Miami?”
“Sometimes, safety comes in the most unique forms,” he rasped, then, sighing, he slouched over on the closest armchair, his wings retracting the second his behind touched the seat. “You were hidden in plain sight, and that worked… for the most part.”
“Apparently not if this isn’t our first visit.”
“T
hey usually found you on the rare occasions you left the city.” He rubbed his chin. “I remember a school trip to New York City—that was one time they almost grabbed you.” His lips twitched. “You were twelve and had a very big attitude. Still do, by the looks of it.”
“My attitude, or lack of, is none of your concern,” I retorted snootily.
“Yes, very big,” he teased with a laugh, and the sparkle in his eyes took me aback. He looked… proud? And Gaia help me, why did that notion make me happy? I was mad at him, dammit. Mad as fuck. “Then, there was the time you went to that competition,” he continued, “Your mama saved up a lot to help you go on it—the, what do you call it, cheering?”
“Cheerleading,” I corrected grumpily. “I remember that. I was sixteen.” Cheerleading had stopped me from being as clumsy, but of course, the clumsiness had returned with a bang in front of that crowd.
I’d tripped over my feet more times than I could count, and my pants had split while doing a split.
Fun times.
He nodded. “You went to Tampa, I think. It was the second you left Miami. Your grandmother couldn’t protect you farther than the city limits.” His mouth twisted then. “Then, when you left for LA, your visits became more frequent, but we managed.”
We’d managed?
Just how many times had we met, for Gaia’s sake?
I blinked, and as irritation flushed through me again, ground out, “Protect me from what? Sol help me, I don’t understand.” When he just looked at me, unable or unwilling to explain, I demanded, “Okay, you won’t answer that, so tell me this. Why did she lie to us? About everything?”
His sigh, when it came, was heavy enough to ruffle the little tassels that decorated the neckline of his kaftan, but even as he began to answer, a crashing sound echoed through the room.
Shock had me jerking in place, and I moaned as my wings dug deeper into the bean bag’s soft cushioning. My aching body screamed as another BANG reverberated inside the lounge, and, in my surprise, I fell ever deeper into the bean bag’s suffocating embrace.
“What is that?” I cried, the sharp, discordant noise ringing in my ears to the extent that I raised my weary arms so I could cover them with my hands.
“A shutter must have come loose.” He frowned and, as his wings popped out once more, fluttered into an upright position. I watched him storm off toward the patio doors, his hair glinting in the sunlight as he headed past one of the windows, augmenting his irritated scowl in the rays.
The shutter crashed a few times more, and on each occasion, I felt the noise deep inside my head where it felt like a yodeler in the Alps was singing. A few seconds later, though, it stopped, and I began to roll off the seat I felt sure was trying to choke me. Knowing he probably needed my help, I tried to scramble to my feet. He didn’t look all that strong, and if the wind—
I frowned and stopped flopping around on the floor like a seal pup—thank Sol, Seph, Dan, and Matt weren’t here to see that display of elegance. Of course, just thinking their names made me feel as though someone had knifed me in the belly. The bond surged to life inside me, demanding I find them, commanding me to get closer to them.
Though I sensed how all-encompassing the bond would be if I didn’t obey, my throat felt thick with the emotions battering me, I knew I had to focus. Something wasn’t right here, and even though I felt sure my grandfather meant me no harm… I’d be stupid to let all my guards down.
If there was a wind brewing, then why hadn’t the patio doors, which were both open, crashed to a close too? Aware that I needed to investigate further, I called on the wind, found that there was a ruffle on the other side of the property. I wasn’t even sure how I sensed that, just saw the pink glow of my magic begin to insulate me in its warmth and it transferred the knowledge to me.
As I stared at the glow cocooning me, I felt the magic and the wind communicate even more, making a translation a little easier to understand—think Google Translate on an important document. Hardly a hundred percent accurate—especially when I scented the salt in the air. It made me think that a big gust had swept in from the ocean and had caught a shutter in its snare. Because that made sense, I calmed down.
There was no threat here.
At least, not one the wind detected.
While I worked on unruffling the breeze in an attempt to make it easier for my grandfather to fasten the shutter, I felt the pink glow of my magic settle into my bones once more, disappearing like it had never come out to party.
Was it crazy that I felt a tad more energized after that little foray into casting?
Checking in with myself, I identified that my wings didn’t hurt as much, and my arms weren’t as sore. What was sore? My fucking heart.
Where were my mates?
Sol, where was I so I could bring them to me?
“You’ve attended Eight Wings, so you know the basics of magic. You know that the Fae mine magic from the witches, correct?”
I blinked, utterly taken aback at my grandfather’s abrupt entry, as well as his swift conversational foray into something he’d seemed disinterested in explaining. It was almost as though, while outside, he’d had time to reconsider matters, leaving me a few paces behind as I was busy thinking about my magic, about the wind, about my Virgo, and not about the topic we’d just been discussing.
Then, it registered what he’d said.
The mining.
I could feel my mouth curve into a sneer at just the thought. “Yes,” I spat. “It’s horrendous.”
“It might seem like it, but, as with anything, it began with necessity.” He pursed his lips as he studied me, settling into his leather seat with an aplomb that befit a king. “The Fae have their own magic, did you know that? We just don’t use it all that often.”
“What kind?” I questioned, suddenly intrigued. We’d gone into the various ways the Fae abused the witch’s magic, but had never really gone into the Fae’s own powers. I’d heard of it, but not in depth.
“Blood.”
My eyes flared wide and I reared back, stunned because ‘blood magic?’ It sounded like something from a horror movie… Then, I realized something. Only that morning, Seph had used his blood on me to heal me. Was that what my grandfather meant?
At my reaction, and my expression which probably changed when I thought about how Seph had healed me, he chuckled. “I see you’ve felt the aftereffects of blood magic. I won’t ask how. A grandfather doesn’t need to know some things. But, yes, blood magic is a dying art now. Something few of us can manipulate save for healing small wounds.
“Back in the late fourteen hundreds, the witches were having issues. There’d been a huge meteorite that slammed into Ch'ing-yang, a city in China. It killed tens of thousands of people when it impacted. Nobody knows why, but after that, witches were suddenly more powerful.”
I scowled at him. “There are no records of this—”
“Of course there are,” he countered with a snort, his fingers now drumming on the armrest. “But they’re buried in the Conclave right where they should be. This is information few need to know.”
“Why?”
“Because the Conclave deemed it so, and though most witches don’t believe it, the Assembly often accedes to the Conclave’s wishes.”
Now I truly was doing a goldfish impression. “So, the Conclave has redacted this information—why?”
“Ours is not to question why,” he murmured loftily. “Regardless, their myopic stance is neither here nor there. Perhaps they wanted what happened to actually occur, for the Fae to become beholden to them, but that is on the Conclave…
“Anyhow, after the impact, witches were suddenly twice as powerful. In some instances, three or four times as much. The manifestations began—magic was suddenly visible in the most powerful of witchkind. Before the meteorite, power was invisible. After? It was tangible.”
Just like mine was.
My pink glow meant something. It wasn’t just another weird thing about me
and me alone.
When my grandfather carried on speaking, I hurried to tune in, “At first, back then, there were more witches showing such power, but over time, far fewer were born with the ability.” He hummed. “Your grandmother’s magic manifested, and she told me your mother manifested from a young age too—”
“What?” I hissed, the news coming totally out of the blue to me. “She never told me that.” Sol damn it. Even if it made sense that she hadn’t shared the information with me, it didn’t stop the hurt from spreading deep inside.
I’d always known she was ashamed of me, of my lack of powers. Now I knew why.
This was further proof of my lack in her eyes. She thought me a scant when, in truth, I was just as powerful as she was.
“Are you going to keep on interrupting?” he grumbled.
“You can’t expect me to—” I gritted my teeth. I wanted answers more than I wanted to complain, so I groused, “Okay. Sorry. Carry on.”
His sigh was long-suffering. “Just as the manifestations appear to have been triggered by the meteorite, so were—"
A gasp escaped me as, suddenly, it clicked. “Virgos?”
His nod was slow, but I could sense he was pleased I was quick to catch on. “As well as human born Fae. It is all founded on that one meteor collision. The biggest shifts in our evolution find their source in that one impact event.”
With the thread of the world, of our history, suddenly tumbling apart in my hands, I could do nothing other than watch as he told a tale I knew would have every kid loving the accounts of our past. That is, of course, if anyone bothered to tell us the fucking truth.
Why keep us in the dark about this? It was a pivotal part of our society’s development, and yet, it was hidden from us like we didn’t have a right to the knowledge. Sol damn it, I hated politics.
“We don’t know why the meteorite would be the catalyst for such acts, but our place isn’t to question, as I said. Ours is simply to deal with the aftermath.” He blew out a breath. “By this point, the Assembly and the Conclave weren’t exactly friendly, but the existence of mates among both species certainly eased things… especially when witches started going mad from power surges.
The Ascended: The Eight Wings Collection Page 25
