Libra Ascending: An Epic Urban Fantasy Romance (Zodiac Guardians Book 1)

by Tamar Sloan

  Libra Ascending

  Zodiac Guardians 1

  Tamar Sloan

  Tricia Barr

  Copyright © 2020 by Tricia Barr & Tamar Sloan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  1. Brielle

  2. Tristan

  3. Brielle

  4. Tristan

  5. Brielle

  6. Brielle

  7. Tristan

  8. Brielle

  9. Tristan

  10. Brielle

  11. Tristan

  12. Brielle

  13. Tristan

  14. Brielle

  15. Tristan

  16. Brielle

  17. Tristan

  18. Brielle

  19. Tristan

  20. Brielle

  21. Tristan

  22. Brielle

  23. Tristan

  24. Brielle

  25. Tristan

  26. Brielle

  27. Tristan

  28. Brielle

  29. Tristan

  30. Brielle

  31. Tristan

  Capricorn Conjured

  About the Authors

  More series to fall in love with…

  1

  Brielle

  Living with guilt isn’t easy. Guilt is a stain on the soul, an anchor on the heart. Even worse is when the guilt you carry isn’t your own.

  For the full seventeen years of Brielle’s life, she’s been inexplicably burdened with seeing the misdeeds of those around her, and of feeling their guilt over those wrongs. Her first instinct when the visions invade her mind is to ignore them, to shut them out. She doesn’t enjoy knowing the intimate details of someone’s life, whether that person is a stranger on the street, or one of the kids who bunk with her in the orphanage. She’s a firm believer in the right to privacy.

  But curses are called curses for a reason.

  The visions aren’t just sight and sound, but emotion, too. Raw, powerful, overwhelming. When Brielle was young, the guilt she experienced was too intense to hold in, and the only way to unburden herself was to confess, the words flowing out like a tidal wave.

  This is why the Brady Bunch are currently glaring at her as she walks to Sister Agatha’s office. All blonde, they act like siblings, defending each other against anyone outside their tight little circle. Brielle has never been part of that inner sanctum, and not just because her long wavy hair is the color of milk chocolate.

  Brielle’s an outsider everywhere she goes...forced to look in no matter how much she wants to be on the other side of the invisible wall.

  The door to Sister Agatha’s office is open, and as Brielle steps inside, Marie—the oldest of the Brady Bunch—shoots Brielle a threatening glance over her crossed arms from her seat besides Sister Agatha’s desk. It’s a glance that tells Brielle she’d better keep her mouth shut if she knows what’s good for her.

  Brielle swallows the nervous lump in her throat, the large room suddenly feeling stuffy. “You asked to see me, Sister?” she asks in a quiet voice.

  Sister Agatha is a plump and stern middle-aged woman, her floral print blouse buttoned high up her neck. If she’s ever committed any sins, she mustn’t feel guilty about any of them, because her slate has always been cleaner than the floor she forces them to scrub every night. This is why, despite the nun's stringency, Brielle enjoys her company.

  “Yes, Brielle.” Sister Agatha braids her fingers on top of her desk and puffs out her large bosom, pretty little crucifixes glinting at her collar. “Someone broke the sacramental wine bottle in the church last night, and as Marie has a fresh cut on her palm, I suspect she was involved.” She leans forward, her eyes drilling into Brielle. “Do you have any knowledge of this incident?”

  “I don’t even know why you’re asking her,” Marie complains, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I didn’t do it. It’s not like Brielle would even know.” She crosses her arms over her chest and purses her lips.

  But Brielle would know. And the moment the denial leaves Marie’s lips, Brielle knows she’s lying. Another addendum of the curse. Brielle always knows when someone is lying, with or without the visions.

  Whether she wants to be saddled with that knowledge or not.

  Brielle’s nervous eyes dart from Sister Agatha’s stony gaze to Marie’s warning glare, quickly flashing away to the window where the light from the early morning sun pours in. It’s the safest place to focus right now.

  If she doesn’t look at Marie, doesn’t come any closer, she might avoid the vision.

  “Brielle?” Sister Agatha prompts. “And please, sit down and stop hovering in the doorway, it’s rude.”

  Brielle knows better than to roll her eyes or sigh or show any kind of sass in response to Sister Agatha’s orders, meaning she has no choice but to sit in the empty chair next to Marie.

  It doesn’t matter that Brielle’s holding her breath, or clenching every muscle in her body, or mentally willing her mind to be a fortress. The vision seeps into her skull like venom, fogging her sight and gripping her soul for a split second.

  In flashes, she sees Marie kissing a boy in the shadows of the alley behind the orphanage, hears the boy whisper that they should try to steal some sips of wine, sees the two of them sneak into the church. She can feel Marie’s hesitation as the vision follows them to the altar, witnesses the boy removing the wine bottle and struggling to open it. And she feels Marie’s shock and horror as the bottle slips from the boy’s hands and shatters on the floor. Marie slices her hand frantically trying to pick up the glass, but the vision dissipates with the two abandoning the mess and fleeing the church.

  Except guilt from the memory lingers, coiling in Brielle’s belly like a snake.

  If only it were just the visions that clung to her. It’s the person’s knowledge of their wrongdoing that grasps her consciousness and doesn’t let go.

  Brielle clenches her fingers begrudgingly around the arms of her chair as she lowers herself into it, cursing her second sight. If she tells Sister Agatha what she saw, the Brady Bunch’s hatred for her will only grow. She’ll continue to be known as the freak who knows things she shouldn’t. But if she doesn’t tell, she’ll have to live with Marie’s guilt, a constant itch in her insides that will never subside. Is it worth keeping Marie’s secret? Suffering for her just to be accepted?

  Marie slides a glance at Brielle, the brief glare slashing through her. Marie already hates her. Why is Brielle even bothering to fight for acceptance? It’s a lost cause...

  Brielle shakes her head. “I’m sorry Sister, but I don’t know anything about how the wine bottle broke.” This is Brielle’s first lie ever, and she internally applauds herself for how well she pulls it off. She hopes her voice and posture are as convincing as she thinks they are. She clears her throat. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I saw Marie in her bed last night. Kinda hard to miss her snoring.”

  Marie visibly relaxes, and Sister Agatha frowns as she leans back in her chair. “Very well, you may go, Marie.” She dismisses the girl with a wave of her hand.

  Marie eagerly stands up and skips out the door, throwing Brielle a knowing smile as she passes.

  But Brielle didn’t do it for her. Well, not just for her, anyway.

  “Thank you for your honesty, Brielle,”
Sister Agatha begins once they’re alone. “I know I can always count on you to tell me the truth. I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

  Brielle doesn’t point out Sister Agatha has said that the past five times adoptive parents showed an interest in her.

  “If I go,” she adds, unable to keep the tone of self-doubt out of her words.

  “Oh, come on now, your chances of getting adopted this time look very good,” Sister Agatha chides. “Are you ready for the Pierces’ visit this afternoon?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Brielle says with little confidence but ample determination. “I hope they like me.”

  “They already like you.” Sister Agatha smiles warmly. “That’s the reason they want to meet.”

  Yes, she and the Pierces did seem to click right away when they stopped by for the Meet and Greet last week.

  After the fiasco her last potential adoption had turned into years ago, she’d been metaphorically benched from these events for some time. And now that Brielle’s seventeen, she’d all but given up on getting adopted. So, for last week’s Meet and Greet, she’d opted to help the nuns keep the snacks and drinks stocked.

  While she was pouring more lemonade into the dispenser on the snack table, there was a tap on her shoulder. Thinking it was one of the nuns, she turned around to see a handsome couple. The man looked like he was in his forties, with brown hair, green eyes, and a warm smile. He was tall, and his beige suit fitted him well. The woman on his arm was about the same age, her straight dark brown hair cut to just below shoulders left bare by her spaghetti strap dress.

  “Excuse me, but what can you tell me about those girls?” the man asked, pointing to three of the Brady Bunch girls chatting against the wall. Clearly, he thought Brielle worked there.

  Rather than correct him, she went along with it. “Well, the tall one is Marie. She’s a great conversationalist, but she can be prone to mischief. Ella is the short one, and she’s a wiz with numbers. And Sasha, the...er...voluptuous one”—she struggled to find a nice way to say fat—“she’s very sweet and loves all forms of art, especially painting.”

  The couple both nodded, appraising each of the girls.

  Brielle saw no reason to slander them. Just because they excluded her didn’t mean they deserved to be adopted any less than she did, and she wasn’t about to damage their chances. She had enough guilt to deal with without creating her own.

  “Can I ask what you’re looking for?” After she asked the question, she felt stupid. They weren’t shopping for a piece of furniture, they were scouting a potential child to make a permanent part of their family.

  The couple chuckled and exchanged uncertain glances.

  “Well, we don’t really know,” the woman said.

  “We just know that there’s something missing in our lives.” The man shrugged. “I guess we’ll know when we find it.”

  The woman cocked her head at Brielle. “You seem young to be working here. Are you a volunteer?”

  “Not exactly. I’m...one of the orphans,” Brielle confessed, her cheeks burning. “But I’m about to age out of the system, and I like helping, so I offered to help the nuns with the event.”

  After that, the couple introduced themselves as Frank and Beatrice Pierce and talked to Brielle for the duration of the gathering. It was only an hour, but they...clicked. Mr. Pierce had a very corny sense of humor, and Mrs. Pierce seemed indulgent and affectionate. Brielle felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Hope.

  And the more days that pass, the more desperately she hopes things go well at their next meeting. This afternoon.

  She’d been in this orphanage her entire life. She’d never known family. After watching the fellow babies she’d arrived with each find their forever home, she’d stopped making friends with the other residents. It was just too painful. Sister Agatha was the closest thing to family she’d ever had. Not quite like a mother, but maybe a very strict aunt, which is about as lame as it gets.

  Brielle wants a family more than anything in the world. And she’s not going to screw things up.

  Not this time.

  “I’ll do my best to make you proud,” Brielle says, forcing her lips into a flat smile.

  Sister Agatha scoffs. “If you want to do that, stay on as a nun.” She laughs, her belly bouncing with each rolling breath.

  Brielle sucks in air through her teeth. “Not even as a last resort.”

  Sister Agatha laughs even harder, so hard even the tight gray bun perched on her head wobbles. When her laughter subsides, she wipes her eyes and regains her composure. “Alright, now off to school with you. Don’t want to be late.”

  “Yes, Sister.” Brielle stands, nods, then leaves the office, striding down the hall striped with the morning light coming through the vaulted windows. The orphanage is old, converted from a convent that’s been here since the eighteen hundreds. All brick and mortar on the outside, and polished dark wood on the inside. It made for a very cold and dark childhood.

  The instant she rounds the corner, she nearly crashes right into Marie, who’s been waiting in the hall for her with arms crossed and hip swayed to one side.

  “For your information, I don’t snore,” Marie says, eyes narrowed at her.

  “I’m confused. Did you want me to cover for you or not?” Brielle never can keep the sarcasm from slipping out. It’s her defense mechanism against always telling the truth. “Because I’m pretty sure that without that comment, you’d be in massive trouble right now.”

  Marie steps closer and lowers her voice. “What I don’t understand is how you always know these things. You shouldn’t have to cover for me. I know that no one told you about the wine because I didn’t even tell anyone, and I highly doubt a goody-two-shoes like you was out of bed after hours. So how do you always know?”

  Brielle avoids the question. That’s her specialty. “So you want me not to cover for you from now on? Got it.” She walks around Marie, hoping to escape any further conversation.

  But Marie’s hand shoots out and grips tightly around Brielle’s upper arm, locking her in place. “You’re a freak,” she hisses. “And if Sister Agatha accuses me again, of anything, I’ll make your life here a living hell.”

  Brielle jerks her arm free of Marie’s clutches. She knows she needs to get back to her room and get ready for school...but that itch in the pit of her stomach is demanding to be scratched. She may have covered for Marie, but she can’t stand keeping this guilt completely to herself. Maybe if Marie confesses, the guilt will dissolve.

  Lowering her own voice as well, Brielle whispers, “You’ll feel better if you tell Sister Agatha yourself.”

  Marie looks at Brielle as if she thinks she’s insane.

  “Seriously, I know you feel bad about it,” Brielle continues. “Tell her it was an accident. Tell her your boyfriend pressured you into it.” The more Brielle speaks, the less the guilt nags at her.

  Marie gasps. “You really are stupid. Trying to steal a few sips of wine from Communion is one thing, but Sister Agatha would burn me at the stake for sneaking a boy in! I swear, if she ever finds out, you’ll be sorry!” And with that, Marie storms away down the hall toward the cafeteria.

  Oddly enough, Brielle’s guilt is totally gone. She didn’t confess to the person to whom it mattered, but maybe just saying it out loud is the key.

  Either way, she’s even more desperate now to be on her best behavior with the Pierces this afternoon. She hates this place. Marie just voiced what all the others think: she’s a freak.

  She can’t ever let the Pierces find out about her visions. She wants a family. She wants a home.

  And she’ll do whatever it takes to get it.

  2

  Tristan

  “First day.” Tess’s bright voice spears through the fog of sleep blissfully wrapped around Tristan.

  He rolls over, groaning. The fact she’s his adoptive mother means he didn’t inherit her morning cheer. “Which one is this,
again?”

  A new school every few months makes it hard to keep up. It seems like he just gets used to the bed in whatever place they’re in and he’s in a new one.

  “Mirror Point, remember? In New York.” Tess enters his room, placing a stack of clean clothes on his dresser. “I reckon the name is a good omen. Mirrors, Geminis, both reflections of each other and all that.”

  Footsteps thud past the open door. “You said that about Star Passe,” Zarius calls out as he continues to the kitchen.

  Tristan hauls the covers over his head. “And Twin Buttes,” he mutters loud enough to be heard.

  “Stop it, you two,” Tess admonishes, the smile apparent in her voice. “It’s important to be optimistic.”

  Because they haven’t found anything that resembles a clue that other Zodiac Heirs exist. That any of them actually made it to Earth.

  But Tristan doesn’t say it aloud. The last time he said something along those lines, the edges of Tess’s smile had wilted.

  Over the years, Zarius has gotten frustrated, slamming suitcases shut as they packed to move to the next city or town. Tristan has become impatient, knowing they’re going to run out of time eventually.

  But Tess has never lost hope. “Fate brought Zarius and I together so we could raise and love you. Fate will bring us the other Heirs,” she’s always said calmly.

  But the recent flicker of light in her eyes had been far more concerning than the dead ends or stones that refuse to glow, no matter how many hands they put them in.