Midheaven (Ascendant Trilogy Book 2)

by Rebecca Taylor

  After Hayden gathered me into his arms and made me breathless with his kisses one last time, he let me go and headed across the lobby to the elevators on the other side. I watched him go, waved to him, and made sure he stayed behind the sliding metal doors before I released my breath in relief.

  I had done it.

  Turning toward the main entrance, I took three quick steps, eager to get back to the hotel room unnoticed, before stopping dead.

  She was hiding behind the vertical fountain near the reservations desk, and from the look on her face, I guessed she had witnessed everything that had just happened between me and Hayden. With our eyes locked, she stepped out, her cheeks were red and tears streamed from her puffy eyes. From the way her chest was heaving, I could tell she was crying.

  Sophie was very, very upset.

  She said something but her words got lost in the echoes, conversations, and foot steps of the other guests coming and going around us. I didn’t hear what she said, but I saw it.

  “How could you Charlotte?” her lips moved, right before she turned and fled from the building.

  “Sophie!” I called, but it was too late. By the time I had chased her out the doors, she had disappeared up the block. Back to our hotel, back to our room, back to her sleeping brother. Sophie would soon wake Caleb up, and tell him everything.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Betrayed

  By the time I got back, Sophie was already throwing all of her and Caleb’s things into their bags. I stood in the room’s entrance, under the glare of the halogen light above my head. As Sophie flew from one end of the room to the other collecting shirts, stray socks, and her makeup bag, Caleb sat on the edge of the pull-out sofa. His shoulders were hunched and his expression was stunned, as if he were still trying to figure out if this nightmare was actually happening in the middle of the night or if there was still a chance he might wake up.

  When he raised his head, his eyes met mine.

  I had my reasons for going to Hayden, for seeking him out, tricking him into believing that I would come away with him, I felt it was my only chance of saving a mother that had been out of my life for almost six years. A chance to save her from Emerick Wriothesley. But the way to explain all of this to Caleb would not come to me. I was too overwhelmed by the growing sensation of shame sweeping over me, by the guilt Caleb’s painful expression was causing me.

  “Caleb—”

  “It’s true,” he cut me off, and I realized he wasn’t asking me a question but stating a fact that had, already, solidified in his mind. “Don’t try to deny it. When I came back to the room, earlier today, and you were…were in the astral plane.” He practically spat the words at me. “You were with him then.” He shook his head. “I knew it,” his tone accused. “I even heard you whisper his name. But still, I didn’t want to believe it! Didn’t want to think—” his voice broke on the emotion beginning to contort his features into the picture of pain I had hoped to never be the cause of again. He cleared his throat, “Didn’t want to think it could be true. Didn’t want to imagine you had been lying to me…Lying to me all along Charlotte!”

  “Caleb I haven’t—”

  “Stop,” he shook his head and stood up, grabbed his jeans from the arm of the sofa. “Just stop Charlotte.” He jammed first one leg and then the other into the denim, shoving his boxers down before ripping a shirt from Sophie’s hands. “You must think I’m a complete idiot!” he shook his head. “I think I’m a complete idiot.” He pulled the shirt over his head and grabbed the receiver of the hotel room phone.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  Caleb punched the zero, “Sophie and I are going home,” he said before he began speaking into the receiver. “I need a cab right away…the airport.”

  I rushed to him, “You can’t. I didn’t Caleb,” I reached for his face but he shoved my hands away from him. “Please, you have to believe me. I only wanted to try and save my mother.”

  Caleb stormed across the room and swept Aaron’s cell phone off the dresser. When he came back to me, he stretched out his arm and shoved the phone’s face into mine. There, bold and incriminating, was the picture keeping Caleb from ever believing a word I said about Hayden. “Tell me Charlotte! Tell me now how it’s only ever been about using Hayden to help you find your mother!” He looked at the picture once more himself and then turned the image back to me. “Because, from what I see, here are two people very much in love.” He tossed the phone onto the bed. “I won’t be your idiot any more.”

  From the bed, the picture of Hayden and me, close, kissing, arms around each other, made it hard to deny Caleb’s words.

  But I still had to try.

  “Caleb—”

  “I don’t want to hear it!”

  I bit my lip and watched as he gathered the last of his things. Sophie, already packed and ready, stood by the door waiting for her brother. She didn’t look at me, wouldn’t look at me, she stared at the floor waiting to get away as fast as she could from the girl who had hurt them both so deeply. I had been trying, desperately trying, to keep the truth from them. I never wanted either of them to know what exactly Hayden was to me, how tangled into his existence I was. But the photo staring up at us all from the middle of the bed made keeping that truth seem even worse, it made it seem like Hayden was my, “Choice!” I blurted.

  My word was so unexpected, Caleb stopped moving towards the door long enough to glance back.

  “You were my choice,” I said. “It’s true, Hayden and I are involved. Deeply, maybe inextricably,” I shook my head like I could shake away the disturbing possibility. “I found out, with Mohan, what Hayden is to me. I didn’t want it. You have to at least believe that. I didn’t want Hayden to be my twin flame.”

  Sophie sucked her breath, her eyes flew up to meet mine.

  “I thought I could deny it. I thought I could still choose,” my eyes searched Caleb’s, hoping something, anything I was saying could reach him. His expression remained stony. “I still believe I should get to choose…and I only ever wanted to choose you.”

  Caleb stared at me. His throat constricted as he swallowed, considered my words. His jaw flexed. His eyes moved to the photo still staring up at us all. Seconds passed and I hoped, prayed he was changing his mind. Reconsidering the possibility of what I was saying. When his eyes moved back to mine, I could see the answer before he even spoke the words.

  “I don’t believe you Charlotte,” he spoke softly. “Not any more.” He looked at the ground between us. “I don’t believe you because I don’t think you’re being honest…not even with yourself.”

  The door closed behind them, the latch clicked, a gentle sound that didn’t match the eruption of shame exploding in my head.

  I had lost them.

  My eyes returned to the photo on the phone—I hated myself. I hated Hayden. I hated whatever monstrous thing we were, both together and apart. I wanted to cut him off of me, out of me. Surgically remove him from my nervous system.

  Hayden had just cost me two of the people I loved most, two of the people who had loved me back. But he would want that. Hayden absolutely would be ecstatic to learn about what just happened. Hayden would jump for joy to know that there were two less people in this world competing for my attention, two less people who loved me and kept me from him.

  My jaw clenched so tight it felt like the bones might crack. My shame turned to rage that pushed past the confines of my body and I lunged for the phone with every intention of smashing the thing into a million indistinguishable plastic pieces.

  Aaron was faster. His hand beat mine to the target and swept the phone safely away.

  “Clearly,” he said, his voice calm, placating. “You are very, very upset. However, we happen to still require the services of this innocent bystander.” He cleared the screen, pushed something, and put the phone to his ear. “Al, change of plans. Get the jet fired up for the other two kids…yes, right now,” his eyes met mine. “They’re going home.”


  Like a small child, I burst into tears.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Mount Emei

  My thighs burned. One step after the next, I pushed my body to keep climbing the steep stairway leading from where the bus had dropped us to the cable cars that would carry us up to the golden summit of Mount Emei. My head floated in a fog of hunger and sleep deprivation and I realized that skipping breakfast, no matter how depressed I was about Caleb and Sophie hating me, was a bad idea.

  Ahead of me, Aaron chugged away, his own swollen legs pumping like a machine while loud, uncomfortable sounds of physical exertion labored from his nose and mouth. He had not skipped his large plate of eggs, bacon, toast, and hash. He had washed every bite down with four cups of coffee and two large glasses of juice. I suspected his head was not light and near fainting, but I would not be surprised if he suddenly threw up.

  “Hurry up Desdemona,” Aaron shouted over his shoulder.

  The reference made my head snap up. I watched him keep walking, surprised, speechless. Aaron looked back over his shoulder and slowed his pace, waited for me to catch up. “What, you think you’re the only person on the planet that reads Shakespeare?”

  “No,” I said. “Not the only one. Just the only one in present company.”

  He laughed out loud, turned, and kept walking while shaking his head. “What you know about me wouldn’t fill a teaspoon.”

  It was true. I made lots of assumptions about Aaron, but knew very few facts. I realized that he had allowed this to be the case—probably even encouraged it. “So, I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover?” I asked, my sarcastic tone coloring the cliche.

  Aaron shrugged. “That depends entirely on the book.”

  We climbed several more feet, the line for the entrance to the cable cars was just ahead of us and I could see all the tourists waiting to get into the small windowed boxes that would carry them the rest of the way up the mountain. “You know,” I said. “Othello kills Desdemona. He accuses her, wrongly I might add, of adultery and then smothers her.”

  Ahead of me, Aaron stopped abruptly, turned and walked back to where I stood. His face was red and a sheen of oily sweat hinted at how difficult the climb really was for him. “And did you know,” he instructed. “In the original short story by Cinthio, Un Capitano Moro, the story Shakespeare based his telling of Othello on, both the Othello character and the Iago character kill Desdemona. In that version, Iago lusts after Desdemona as well, and he convinces Othello Desdemona is unfaithful, wrongly as you said, and then they plot, together, and kill her. And it was no gentle smothering either. They fill a sock with sand and smash her brains in.” Aaron turned from me and started walking again. “They make it look like an accident, like a ceiling collapsed.”

  I was too shocked to move. I didn’t know what was more surprising, that Aaron had such a deep grasp of literature, or the parallels he was suggesting existed between my situation with Hayden and Caleb, and Desdemona’s with Othello and Iago.

  When Aaron looked and saw I wasn’t moving he shouted back, “Let’s move it Mona.”

  His words annoyed me but I started jogging to catch up. “Don’t call me that.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever you like Desi. But you and I need to have a talk, soon, about Hayden Wriothesley and what he is to you. Don’t think for a minute I’ve forgotten you snuck off, in the middle of the night, to meet with the son of the man I’m supposed to be protecting you from. Caleb’s not the only one with questions that need answering.”

  “Hayden Wriothesely is nothing to me,” I hated that my voice sounded defensive, it made me unconvincing.

  Aaron scoffed, “He is most definitely not nothing. That much I can tell. Or have you forgotten that the photographic evidence is sitting on my phone.”

  “I was trying to get information from him,” I shouted.

  “Well you certainly got something from him. My only question now is, what exactly did he get from you?”

  Aaron was so thick headed—at least I had always thought he was—there was no use arguing with him, the best tactic was usually to just ignore him. But after we had purchased our tickets for the cable car and were inside one of the floating boxes moving up towards the summit, I moved as far away from him as I could and found a pen at the bottom of my backpack. When he was busy admiring the view of the ocean of clouds rolling around the mountain top, I scribbled a note to myself on the back of my cable car ticket.

  Cinthio, Un Capitano Moro—read, compare w/ Othello

  At the summit, Aaron and I stood side by side and scanned the crowds. Just like at the Ellora Caves, neither of us knew exactly who we were looking for and I wondered if we should just get comfortable and settle in for the same all day wait we had experienced before Mohan had made himself known to us. I started eyeing all the people who looked like they might work here. A young man emptying a nearby garbage can, a middle aged woman selling bamboo sticks to keep the begging, thieving monkeys at bay, a uniformed guide gesturing before their group of awestruck tourists gazing up at the enormous statue of Buddha. It was useless—I knew we would just have to wait for the Buddhist key keeper to come to us.

  Standing near the edge of the summit, I stared out over the sea of clouds below us, blocking the views of the Earth below. It was nothing short of amazing, all the hype and advertising was not overblown. Mount Emei did feel mystical, magical even, and staring out across the vast white swells of atmosphere, I felt as if I had entered another world, another perspective on existence.

  It reminded me of being in the astral plane.

  Caleb and Sophie would have loved it.

  I looked at my watch, they might be home by now. Or, at the very least, back in England driving from the airport to Gaersum Aern. What would they tell Ms. Steward? My uncle? I closed my eyes not able to contemplate the thought of them retelling last night’s episode. Sophie describing every shame filled detail of my meeting with Hayden. Caleb reliving that photo, an image burned into his brain, of Hayden and I looking very much like two lovers.

  I looked at my watch again, nine forty-seven. Hayden was expecting me to meet him back at his hotel in thirteen minutes. It wasn’t hard to imagine the rapid escalation he would make from excited expectation to rage when he realized I wasn’t coming—by ten-thirty, Hayden Wriothesley would be hunting me down.

  “Good luck,” I whispered defiantly, trying to ignore the chill of fear that was undeniably crawling up my spine. Hayden would be insane with anger. I didn’t know exactly what he would do, but I suspected he was capable of much.

  I looked at my watch again, nine minutes before ten.

  A deep breath filled me and I turned away from the ocean of clouds, they were now making me feel less magical and more like a ship lost at sea. I unfastened my watch and placed it in my pocket. I didn’t want to think anymore about Hayden’s ascent into hysteria. It made me nervous. All I wanted to do was find the Buddhist key keeper, get the key, and get back down this mountain. I had plans.

  The Buddhist keeper would tell us which was the next key and where to go find it, but we wouldn’t be heading there. I hadn’t told Aaron yet, but as soon as we had this key, my search and find mission was being put on hold. If I couldn’t get him and my uncle to agree to have the jet take me, I was going to do everything in my power to get myself to Belgrade—I wasn’t searching for or collecting another single key until I found my mother and knew she was safe back at Gaersum Aern.

  I didn’t care about any of this unless it was going to keep her safe. Now that I knew where she was, thanks to Hayden, I intended to go find her.

  I wondered if he or Emerick had realized yet that I had given them the wrong box?

  Not able to stop myself, I pulled my watch from my pocket—two minutes past ten.

  “Got a hot date Desi?” Aaron suddenly appeared out of nowhere and made me jump.

  I spun on him, “I said don’t call me that!”

  He shrugged, “Slipped out.”

 
The sun moved across the sky. Groups of tourists filed in and around the summit, marveling over the views, the architecture, the giant golden Buddha—no one seemed to stand out and no one came up to us. An irritated impatience was making my chest tight, the sooner we got the key the sooner I could start looking for my mother in Belgrade.

  Across the concrete courtyard, I could see Aaron sitting on a bench scrolling through his phone. Hunger had finally won out over my grief and fear—I needed food. I strode across the yard and when I reached him, he didn’t bother to look up.

  I kicked his shoe lightly, “I’m pretty hungry. I’m going to head inside and see if they have any food.”

  Still not looking up, he nodded his head and continued to play what I could now see was a game on his phone. I sighed, “Want anything?”

  “Yeah, anything that looks remotely American.”

  I rolled my eyes, “American, got it.”

  When I was halfway to the building Aaron yelled, “And Coke!”

  I raised my hand but didn’t bother turning around. “You need a Diet Coke,” I said to myself. “Better yet, how about you try a bottle of water?” I pushed through the glass doors hoping to find food, American or not.

  A small man, shorter than me, pushed out the doors at the same time bumping into me and knocking me back, my tailbone slammed into the unforgiving tile floor. His face looked shocked, his eyes opened wide into an expression of apology to see me sprawled on the ground. He reached for my hand to help me up and, without thinking, I accepted the gesture.