Heart of Ash

by Kim Liggett

  “H-how did you know my name? How did you know my mother used to say that?”

  “I knew Katia. Who do you think made her immortal?” His head snapped toward the windows, a look of unease coming over him. “The reading is over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important matters to—”

  “What did you mean about the twins? The vessel? Did you see my brother?”

  “Good day,” he said, turning his back on me.

  “Am I becoming like Katia . . . is that what you’re trying to tell me?” When he didn’t answer, I frantically flipped over the cards to find they were blank—and so was the entire deck.

  Beth yanked on my shirt to leave, but I didn’t need any more encouragement. I was thoroughly creeped out.

  Just as we were almost to the door, he turned toward me. “Ashlyn, wait. You have a light of your own. Trust your blood. Trust your instincts. And don’t worry, I will keep your secret until my dying breath,” he said with a sweet sadness. “Now go.”

  I hadn’t taken two steps away from the shop when a man in a smart seersucker suit and a straw hat hurried by, brushing up against my shoulder. He was drenched in a terrible amber cologne that couldn’t mask the fact that he was an immortal, too. He glanced back at me as if he could feel what I was. As soon as our eyes met, he tilted his hat to obscure his face and slipped inside the shop, locking the door behind him.

  13

  WANTING TO PUT as much distance as she could between us and the mysterious alchemist, Beth pulled me toward the awaiting car. She didn’t say anything, but I knew she was spooked by the encounter. Maybe it was a seer thing. I didn’t know what his story was, but he certainly knew a great deal about me. And Katia. More than I was comfortable with. But for some reason, I trusted him.

  As Beth and I climbed into the back of a luxurious car, the driver watched us from the rearview mirror. He was a stern-looking man with the telltale mark of the Arcanum on his wrist. I tried not to think about the guards marching into the corn with Coronado last summer, Katia using her dark magic to kill them all. And now here I was, in Spain, under their protection. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

  As we pulled away, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Timmons said, warning me about Dane, how it was telling that Dane hadn’t tried to contact me until his life was in danger. But then I remembered Beth’s vision of the four of us standing together under a warm but snowy sky. I didn’t know what it meant—and Beth probably didn’t, either—but the bottom line was that Rhys and I would be together again. And Dane and Beth would be a part of that. As long as they were with me, it could happen at any time.

  It was Timmons’s job to be cautious, but I was pretty sure Dane didn’t have it in him to betray me again. At least I didn’t think so.

  “Beth, if there’s anything you need to tell me,” I said as I settled back into the seat, “anything I should know, now would be the time.” But when I looked over, she was out cold.

  “Sugar crash,” I murmured.

  We went through a tunnel, the lights flickering inside the car like a rave.

  I was exhausted, but the adrenaline pumping through me wouldn’t let me rest. As we emerged from the tunnel, I counted the palm trees. I didn’t even know Spain had palm trees. So far, this trip was full of surprises. Dane showing his vulnerability being the biggest one of all. Seeing him. Feeling him, as if we’d never been apart.

  The farther we drove south along the coastline, the more disjointed I became. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, the alchemist’s words, but the only reminders of modern times were from the power lines crisscrossing the countryside or the occasional defiant swath of graffiti splattered over ruins. There were medieval villages carved into the hillsides, where even the hills seemed to have a life of their own. Colors of salmon, saffron, and greens—deeper than sage, lighter than moss. There was dense vegetation, abandoned sunflower fields, and tall slender trees, sticking up like needles. Everything felt rich and old—with a layer of dust falling over the Moorish architecture, making it look like an old hazy photograph.

  • • •

  A few hours had gone by when we pulled off the main road, passing through a small village. Cathedral bells were tolling, but it wasn’t Sunday. Men tipped their hats, women curtsied as we drove by. It made me wonder if they knew about Coronado and his young heir. If they knew about me. I was probably just being paranoid. Rhys would’ve told me I was being a total narcissist, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that they knew my face. That they were expecting me.

  14

  WE PULLED UP to a massive set of black iron gates. Security cameras were everywhere. It looked more like a military checkpoint than the entrance to a home. But when a flood of black birds flew overhead, I knew this was it. Castell de Coronado.

  One of the Arcanum guards stepped forward, opening my door.

  “Why are we stopping here?” I asked.

  “Protocol. No vehicles are allowed beyond the gates.”

  At first I thought it was stupid, but then I remembered a very similar scene from one of the Godfather movies. Not that I wouldn’t survive a car bomb, but that could get messy.

  I reached over to wake up Beth, when she sat up with a gasp. “He’s here.”

  “What?” I asked. “Who?”

  I looked up to see Dane strolling down the drive. In the hazy glow of the late afternoon sun, he looked like something out of a dream.

  As soon as I stepped out of the car, the scent of sea salt, mandarins, and cypress trees washed over me. But there were other scents, too. Metal, gunpowder, mercury, bleach, and iodine.

  As the men took our bags, Beth gripped the car door, a faraway look coming over her.

  “What is it?”

  “Octopus,” she replied.

  “Octopus? Is that some kind of code for something?”

  “No. That’s what they had for lunch.”

  “Great.” I let out a deep sigh. Glad to know her seer skills were coming into good use.

  “Welcome home, Katia,” Dane said as he greeted us at the gate.

  Just hearing her name escape his lips set something off inside of me. It was the way he said it, how easily it rolled off his tongue.

  “This is only temporary,” I said as I slammed the door shut. “Just until we find Rhys.”

  “Or maybe you’ll never want to leave,” he said as he arranged a tendril of my hair over my shoulder.

  The dark feeling welled inside of me, making me short of breath.

  As much as it pained me to admit it, he was just as arresting as he was on the first day we met. Maybe even more. The Dane I knew in Quivira had an edge about him, but this Dane was relaxed. I started to reach out to get a sense of his emotions, but stopped myself. I needed to keep a healthy distance.

  I pulled my hair back, away from his touch, and continued walking. The ground crunched beneath my boots, but it wasn’t gravel . . . it was shells. The sea was close; I could smell the brine, taste it in the breeze.

  Beth lagged behind. She still seemed to be half asleep, or maybe it was all an act to give Dane and me a moment alone.

  As we crested the hill, the castle came into full view. I stopped so I could take it all in. It was far from the cold medieval fortress I was expecting. There was a huge main building with a breezeway connecting a tower on each side, and dozens of charming stone structures spread around the outskirts of the main property. It was breathtaking. Begonias and ivy climbed the soft gray stone; there were lush gardens and manicured hedges. And as far as the eye could see, there were rows and rows of trees with silvery leaves, exactly like the ones Beth described in her vision. The realization filled me with a surge of hope.

  I studied him as he spoke and for the first time I thought maybe it was possible—that he and Coronado could be coexisting peacefully in the same body. I wanted to ask him how it all worked, but that’s not why I came. I was ther
e for Rhys. I needed to remember that.

  “So, what’s our backstory?” I asked, forcing myself to look away from his perfect mouth. “Last time I checked, Katia hated your guts. She would’ve basically done anything to eat your face for breakfast.”

  He cracked a lopsided grin. “It’s simple, really. I asked for your help, and you came.”

  “And what’s in it for Katia?” I prodded.

  “Other than all this?” he said as he panned his hand down his body.

  “I’m serious.” I slapped him in the chest, trying not to think of how firm his muscles were. “Katia would never agree to do something like this out of the goodness of her heart.”

  “True.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “Katia and the council have been at war for centuries. You find the immortal killer for them, and all will be forgiven. We’ll be free to live our lives.”

  I wasn’t sure why he wasn’t telling me the truth—that a deal had been struck for his safety—but I had bigger worries at the moment.

  “I need to know exactly what I’m walking into.”

  “This holds all the information I was telling you about. Everything you need to know,” he said as he handed me a small, leather-bound notebook. It was warm from his body heat—from his skin. As much as I wanted to smell it, I resisted, placing it in my back pocket. “Who you’ve met, your shared memories, plus a little extra. There’s enough dirt in there on every council member to not only make them believe you’re Katia, but to believe you can get into their heads. After tonight, they’ll keep their distance.”

  “Not the most subtle approach.”

  “Katia wasn’t known for subtlety,” Dane said. “Study it. Memorize it. If you get stuck, lean on me, reach out for me, and I’ll do my best to steer you along.”

  The thought caught me off guard. I’d worked so hard to build a dam between us, but the idea of letting go, using my senses to reach out for him, to feel what he was feeling, brought a flutter of excitement to my blood. I had to be careful. I knew how intoxicating that could be. And I couldn’t afford to lose myself . . . not again.

  “Fine, I creep them out, but how is that going to help us find Rhys?”

  “Once they trust you, trust your powers, all it will take is a few misdirected leads to buy us some time. I brought them here so we could control every aspect of the hunt. I have my best men working around the clock on this. We’re closing in on Rhys and Spencer. I can feel it. But tonight is all about convincing them you’re Katia. And if we agitate a few people in the process, it might lead us to the traitor who’s supplying means and information to Rhys and Spencer. Maybe we can take care of this quietly before anyone gets hurt.”

  “And if that doesn’t happen?”

  “Tomorrow morning there will be an official meeting. There, I will present everything we’ve gathered; of course I’ll leave out the key details. No matter what’s said at that meeting, you need to remember that I’m on your side. I will bring Rhys back to you, safe and sound. That is my promise. And later, over a leisurely lunch, the two of us will come up with a plan of our own.”

  “You mean the three of us,” I said as I glanced back at Beth, who appeared to be off in her own little world, talking to herself.

  “Of course. Beth is a part of our family. But while the council is staying on the estate, she’ll need to keep hidden. For her own safety. For just a few days.”

  I wanted to argue with him, but then the staff began to file out of the castle onto the massive stone steps, all in crisp black-and-white uniforms.

  A statuesque woman in a body-hugging but prim black dress approached. Her only adornments were a worn silver amulet on a chain around her neck and a leather belt cinched around her tiny wasp waist, with a set of old-fashioned keys dangling from it. She moved like a cat, fluid but powerful, every muscle used with purpose. A frightening show of restraint.

  “This is Lucinda,” Dane introduced me.

  She looked me over, her eyes searing across my skin. She was beautiful, but severe looking. Olive skin, piercing dark eyes, and eyebrows to match. Oxblood-colored lipstick accentuating the hard line of her mouth. There was something so familiar about her—arresting. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  “Lucinda will show you to your quarters. She runs things around here.”

  “But—”

  He pulled me in to him, whispering in my ear, “I trust Lucinda with my life. She’s the one who transcribed Coronado’s memories of Katia and the council members for me. You’re going to have to trust me on this one.”

  I whispered back, “The last time a pretty boy said that to me, I ended up naked under a willow tree, giving him my immortal blood.”

  “I may be pretty, but I’m no boy,” he said as he stepped away, dragging his thumb across my hip bone.

  “Come,” Lucinda said, in a strong Spanish accent. Gripping my elbow, she led me past the staff and into the main hall, which was nothing short of astounding. The floor in itself was a work of art: a stunning mosaic of blues, deep reds, and greens that depicted Coronado’s signet. The vaulted ceilings were painted in a breathtaking fresco. The scent of old parchment, oiled leather, and freshly burned cedar lingered in the air.

  As we walked past a stately library on my left-hand side, toward the grand staircase I caught my reflection—only it wasn’t my reflection.

  I pulled away from Lucinda and doubled back, peering at a huge portrait hanging above the fireplace. My eyes. My mouth. But the woman in the portrait had a confidence I’d never possessed. She was in a state of undress, with a deep blue silk gown draped precariously around her hips, glancing seductively over her shoulder. “Katia,” I whispered.

  “Francisco commissioned this in 1610 from the artist Peter Paul Rubens,” Lucinda said, startling me. “Even after more than fifty years of your absence, Coronado was able to convey your likeness.” She stared at the painting as if it were a living, breathing thing, something she despised to the core. “All the way down to the corners of your pretty mouth.” Her words felt like an assault, as if she were hacking away at my face with every syllable. “And now you’re back.” She attempted a smile, which was almost more frightening.

  A strange sound echoed over the marble foyer, as if someone were pouring a pitcher of water onto the floor.

  Looking down the main hall, I found Beth standing perfectly still, facing a wall, as she urinated on the floor.

  “Beth.” I hurried over, easing my hand onto her shoulder, but she just stood there, as if in a trance. “What is it?” I asked as I inspected the wall, but there was nothing there. “Do you see something?”

  Lucinda snapped her fingers at the staff and they hopped to. “I wish you would have told me your mortal isn’t house-trained.”

  “My mortal?” I looked at her in confusion. “Something must’ve spooked her is all.” But I’d never seen Beth react this strongly to anything.

  “It’s a vortex,” Beth murmured. “This entire place is a vortex of pain and death, just like the sacred circle in Quivira.”

  Maids descended on us, mopping up the floor between Beth’s legs.

  “What are you talking about? Are you okay?” I asked as I pulled her away from the puddle. She blinked hard, a single tear trailing down her cheek. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s the jet sag.”

  I didn’t bother correcting her. “I’m feeling the jet sag, too,” I said as I put my arm around her and led her back toward the staircase.

  As Lucinda led us up two floors, she went over the ground rules. “Under no circumstances will your mortal be allowed to roam the castle while our guests are present.”

  I hated the way she talked about her, like she was my pet. “Her name is Beth, and what if she’s hungry? What if she’s bored?”

  “Mr. Coronado has seen to everything. We have been informed that her safety is our highest priority.”

&n
bsp; I helped Beth up another winding staircase, this one made from ancient stone, to find two Arcanum guards stationed in front of a heavy iron door.

  Lucinda nodded curtly, and they stepped out of the way with military precision.

  Unlatching the key ring from her belt, Lucinda opened the door to an enormous suite filled with books, food, and drink. There was a giant canopied bed in the middle, fit for a princess.

  I stepped inside and approached a tray on the sideboard. I held up a tiny triangle sandwich and showed it to Beth. “Cucumber. And there’s a pitcher of lemonade muddled with strawberries. All your favorites.”

  “It’s lovely,” Beth murmured as she stared out of barred windows that crawled with begonias.

  “Come,” Lucinda said as she marched Beth to the bathroom, turning on the shower and ordering her in.

  As soon as Beth took off her clothes and stepped in, Lucinda picked them up with a pair of ice tongs, placing them in a garbage bag. “Savages,” she muttered as she fetched a nightgown and robe from the dresser, setting them on a damask-covered bench in the bathroom.

  “Look, that’s never happened before. She’s normally extremely potty trained—wait . . . why am I even explaining this to you?”

  Lucinda stuck her hand in the shower, turned it off, and gruffly handed Beth a towel.

  Beth stepped out, and I helped towel her dry, then got her into the nightgown and robe. “Don’t listen to her,” I assured her. “It was an accident.”

  “Come,” Lucinda barked, making us both flinch.

  “I think she might be getting sick,” I said as I led her into the bedroom. “Maybe we should call a doctor—”

  “No.” Beth gripped my arm. “No medical equipment. No needles. No doctors.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine,” she said as she crawled under the covers.

  I sat next to her. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can leave right now if—”

  “No.” She reached for my hand. Her skin was cold. “This is where we need to be. I’m just tired.”