Awakening Fire: The Divine Tree Guardians (The Divine Tree Guardians Series Book 1)

by Larissa Emerald

  She nodded. “You’re right.”

  Emma realized immediately the enormity of the task. Grams saved everything.

  Nostalgia washed over her when she came to a folder of mementos she’d sent her grandmother. Pictures of Emma at a chorus concert, of her high school art projects and awards, of homecoming, of Paris. There was even a copy of the children’s book that she and her dad used to read with Grams, Forever My Child. She closed the folder, choking back salty tears. She didn’t have time to cry; her father could be home any minute. She swallowed hard and pressed on to the next folder.

  She and Venn fell into an effective rhythm of going through an envelope or folder and setting it in a “checked” stack over in the corner. She also made a stack on the sewing table of stuff she’d like to go through again at her leisure.

  One large, yellowed envelope caused her breath to hitch as she pulled the contents out.

  “What is it?” Venn asked.

  “My grandfather’s things.” She thumbed through the items. “His discharge papers from the service, some metals, pages of family genealogy, and a picture of my grandparents’ wedding.” The connection to the past was palpable, a transparent thread perceivable and distinct like stitches over a wound that had been stretched too far. Emma palmed the back of her neck and put the envelope in the sewing-table pile.

  “That’s it,” Venn said, closing the last folder. “We’ve gone through everything in here. Where else?”

  It meant a lot to her that Venn didn’t immediately give up. “Let’s check her room, then we’ll move back downstairs.”

  Emma wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of emotion that struck her when she entered Grams’s bedroom. The fragrance of Chanel N˚5 hit her like a frying pan to the nose, causing a gripping pain in her chest, eliciting instantaneous tears, regret, and a longing to have those spry arms embrace her in a zestful hug. But that would never, ever happen again.

  Oh God.

  She gulped air in an effort to control her reaction, and Venn was right there, gathering her in his strong arms, running a soothing hand over her head and cheek, and crooning words of comfort. And for once in her life, after all the years of trying to bind and hold in her feelings so she didn’t do something inadvertently stupid like melting her grandmother’s key fob—the flash of memory of that latest slipup brought a blitz of fresh tears—she let go.

  But she didn’t just weep. No. A guttural sound tore from her throat. Energy simmered and boiled from within her heart, frothing outward like molten lava, spilling into her limbs. Her hands grew extremely hot and glowed red.

  Venn didn’t shush her or try to make her stop. Instead, he held her to his chest, even though his flesh must have burned from where she wrapped her arms tightly about him. Then the strangest thing happened as she drew back to look into his eyes. He captured her mouth with his ready lips, in a kiss that wasn’t sensual or sexual in nature but that drew her pain from her and absorbed it within him. Oddly, she sensed what he was doing by drawing the agony from her in the way sucking snake poison from a wound relieves the hurt and pressure. It was a lifesaving tactic.

  Moments later, she pulled back, fully aware of what had transpired. She drew an enormous cleansing breath, feeling refreshed, at once able to see clearly once more. “How did you do that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never done it before.”

  “It was amazing.”

  He shrugged. “You were in such pain. I had to do something. It was a gut reaction.”

  She inhaled deeply. “Well, it worked.”

  He smiled at her and kissed her forehead gently. “Good.”

  “Let me take a quick look in the closet and we’ll be done up here.”

  “Okay.” He nodded and stepped away from her.

  “Ugh. Your clothes,” she said when she looked back at him.

  He glanced down his chest as she took in the charred remnants clinging to his skin. “I have plenty of others.” And he plucked the fabric away, taking a bit of flesh with each piece. Before her eyes, though, the lesions immediately began to dry up and heal, until they disappeared completely. With cautious strokes, she smoothed her fingers over his pecs and ribs where not a mark remained.

  Her eyes slid up to meet his, her voice still thick with tears. “We truly are meant to be together, aren’t we?”

  “Yes. We are.”

  Venn tensed, the muscles in his back bunching.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, worry creasing her brow.

  “If you’re going to check in here, I suggest you hurry.”

  She didn’t question him but went straight to the closet. If Grams hid anything in her room, this is where it would be. So Emma dug around, opening every hat and shoe box.

  Nothing.

  When Emma turned from the closet, she found Venn staring out the window, his palms braced on either side of the frame, as if he were ready to hurl himself through it at any second.

  “My father’s coming?”

  He turned his head, and their eyes met. “Yes.”

  In tandem, they rushed toward the door and ran downstairs. Emma moved straight to the desk and made a quick last-ditch effort to rummage through the items there. Venn entered into the kitchen and headed for the door.

  “Don’t hurt him,” she cried.

  “I just plan to stall him,” he said as he exited the house.

  She glimpsed him change into a hawk and flap his powerful wings up into the sky.

  A shriek cut through the silence. Emma didn’t dare take another second to contemplate what might happen out there. She refocused on her task at hand. If she didn’t find a living will, what else could help her case?

  She heard a car door slam shut at the front of the house. Her gaze swept the area near the laptop as her father fussed and cursed from outside.

  Her heart raced, and wisps of steam emanated from her palms. She gathered the laptop, an address book, and her grandmother’s purse into her arms and fled outside to Venn’s Mercedes.

  After depositing her armload on the floorboard of the car, she glanced around. The scraping sound of her father’s feet losing purchase directed her attention to him, in time to see him backpedal and fall to the snow-damp earth.

  “I’m going to get my rifle and shoot that bird,” he bit out. “Watch out,” he warned his daughter.

  But the hawk flew past Emma without any notice. It dove after her father every time it flew past.

  “What the hell.” Her dad stood, frowning.

  Venn must have thought his aggressive attack had served its purpose, because after a final menacing flyby, he perched atop a tall post that sported an old-fashioned, black dinner bell.

  “I was looking for Grams’s living will, Dad,” she told him, holding her chin up high.

  He stood, brushing dirt off his jacket, and glared at her.

  She glowered back. “Dad?” He gave her that courtroom look that she detested. “Did you find it? The place had already been gone through, so I know you were searching.”

  “Why are you fighting me on this?” It wasn’t a question he really expected an answer to, and she knew it. He shook his head. “Yes, I found it, and a lawyer is working on having it voided as we speak.”

  Emma gripped the car’s metal door handle, ready to jerk it open and leave. The material turned pliable beneath her fingers, but she tried to ignore it. There was no point whatsoever in arguing, or pleading, or trying to persuade her father to change his mind. She’d learned long ago there was no swaying him.

  “You never trusted my judgment,” she said, instead. “Maybe it’s because I’m different. Or perhaps I’m just not the daughter you had hoped for.”

  “Emma, please, listen to reason. We have to give her a chance to heal.”

  She glanced down, horrified as she realized she’d melted the handle right off Venn’s beautiful car. Without skipping a beat, she marched around the car, opened the passenger-side door, climbed across the seat and console, and slid beh
ind the steering wheel.

  Fury rushed through her as she stepped on the brake and pushed the car’s auto button to start the ignition. Damn him if he thought she was going to cave to his whims. Grams deserved her dignity and her wishes would be respected.

  * * *

  Venn flew above the Mercedes as Emma drove. He gave her the space he thought she needed to cool down. The escalation of her metal manipulation concerned him. He’d watched how effortlessly she’d fired up the handle of his car and had experienced firsthand the heat that came from those hands. He needed an explanation for what was happening to her, and even though the Divine Tree had given him some clues, the answers were far from concrete.

  Did she notice the intensifying level of heat in her hands? He wondered if it had anything to do with her relationship with him, or the tree, or Io.

  Exactly what was going on between Emma and Io, anyway? Did Io realize the connection between Emma and the tree? Even the thought made Venn’s blood run cold with fear. The potential danger to Emma multiplied astronomically if Io learned he could actually reach the tree or him through Emma.

  He sternly reminded himself that this was about more than the pain of losing her, as pronounced and horrible as that would be; it could mean the death of the Divine Tree. Which meant the lives of far more people were at stake, and that the course of humanity would change for the worse. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

  After several miles, Emma pulled the car off the road and stopped. Venn banked in a tight circle, then dipped low to the ground, transforming from hawk to human as his feet hit the ground running. He came to a halt alongside the passenger-side door and jerked it open. “Are you all right?”

  Emma rested her brow on the backs of her hands as they still gripped the steering wheel in a strangled hold. Seconds passed and she didn’t respond, and even though Venn could hear her labored breathing and smell the scent of her anxiety, he also knew she was holding herself together.

  “I feel as though every atom inside me is on the verge of imploding,” she said softly.

  “I understand. Believe me. The circumstances were different, but…when you died, I—”

  Her head reeled back. “Then, yes, you get where I’m coming from. To me, she’s already gone. And it hurts so much.”

  It was a morbid link they shared—a loved one dying—but he’d endured the same type of agony and confusion she must be feeling at this moment. And he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

  “I’m sorry to say, it will be awhile before things improve.” It had been a long, long while for him.

  She reached out for him, and he clasped her hand firmly within his. “Thank you for being here,” she whispered. Her mouth formed a sad smile, then she reclined against the seat and closed her eyes.

  He longed to hold her in his arms, and stroke her hair, and tell her everything would be okay.

  Every now and then a blast of air shook the car as a vehicle flew by them, heading toward town. But Venn merely sat there, waiting for Emma to recover. Finally, she dragged her hand from his, straightened, and regarded him with a quizzical brow. “I grabbed Grams’s address book—thought it may give us her lawyer’s contact information. I also got her purse and her cell phone. Plus, the computer. Surely, somewhere in all that, we can figure out where she may have kept her important papers.”

  “Excellent. You’re pretty good at this.”

  The dry glance she shot him revealed his attempt at humor had missed its mark.

  She took a deep breath. “Where do you suggest we review this information?”

  “Kianso Oka’s law office. He is expecting us.”

  She nodded her agreement, put the car in gear, and took off. “Sorry about the door handle,” she said, shaking her head.

  “We’ll have to work on those hot hands.”

  “My grandmother used to say almost the same thing.”

  He grimaced inwardly, not wanting to return to that sensitive subject before he had to. “I can see why. But don’t worry. I’ll have the repair shop pick it up and fix it.”

  For a while, he directed her toward the law office while also thumbing through the address book. “I found an address and phone number for her lawyer,” he murmured. Perhaps they’d caught a lucky break.

  He didn’t know if it’d be the right one, but he was staying far away from dangerous subjects like hospice centers, or turning off life support. They would be dealing with all that soon enough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Law offices generally emitted a lemony, polished odor Emma instantly associated with her father. The reminder gripped her stomach and caused a queasiness to set in as soon as she entered the sun-filled atrium foyer. Without actually intending to, she moved closer to Venn.

  He introduced her to Kianso Oka, a man in his mid-thirties with dark hair worn in a flat, cropped hairstyle. He had a roundish, yet rectangular, face, pinned-back ears, and wore glasses. His eyes crinkled with mischief as he greeted them. His brisk handshake and easy manner melted her tension away instantly. No stuffy pretense with this guy.

  “I’m sorry about your grandmother,” he said.

  “Thank you. And I appreciate you meeting with us.”

  His mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s go in my office.”

  When they were inside and seated, Emma set her grandmother’s items on the desk and Venn added the computer, saying. “I’ve already filled Kianso in on what has transpired up until this morning.”

  She nodded. “My father told me today that he found my grandmother’s living will and gave it to his lawyer to have it overturned. In the meantime, my grandmother has been moved to a hospice facility. The hospital wouldn’t honor her DNR request because they’re afraid of being sued by my dad. Can I stop him?”

  Kianso tipped back in his leather armchair and rocked several times. “This is a very tricky situation, and the medical community, although they don’t like it, usually will surrender to the person advocating life. The bottom line is that a dead person can’t sue. Your best recourse is to convince your father to change his mind.”

  Emma’s heart sank. She glanced between the men, setting her jaw firmly, and came to a decision. She would pull the plug herself if she had to.

  “I had hoped that something in her estate planning or living will would take precedence over my father’s wishes.”

  Kianso frowned. “I’ve seen acrimonious family feuds go on at length before an issue like this is resolved. Unfortunately, it happens. So you need to prepare yourself.”

  “Mrs. Grant’s lawyer is Richard Payne. Will you contact him and determine what, if anything, can be done to stop her father?” Venn asked.

  Emma gasped and looked at Venn. “When did you discover who her lawyer was?”

  “As we were driving. It was in the phone directory, like you suspected.”

  “But you didn’t mention it.”

  “I said I'd found it. Maybe you were distracted. I didn’t think we needed to discuss it yet. And, let’s face it, after dealing with your father earlier, you needed a break.”

  Venn’s words sank in, causing her anger to rise. “Please don’t keep things from me. I don’t need you to baby me because you don’t think I can handle it.”

  “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that dealing with your grandmother’s death must be overwhelming.”

  “It is,” she admitted. “But I’d rather know what’s going on.”

  “Got it.” Venn’s pursed lips pressed thinner.

  A silence fell between them, and she became aware of a soft ticking sound in the background. Her gaze skimmed the room until landing on a mantle clock with an inscription plate on its base. She sighed. “You know, it’s time I stopped running away.” She tilted her head as if considering the impact of what she’d just said. “I need to confront my dad and find an actual way to convince him. And not give in until he agrees to let Grams go in peace.”

  Kianso organized the items on his desk into a neat stack.
“What do you think will get him to change his mind?”

  “I don’t know.” Emma’s stomach clenched at the thought of the days to come.

  * * *

  The tension between Emma and Venn was still palpable as they exited the law office and got in the car. Part of him knew she was right and that it was best to finally have it out with her dad, but the protector in him totally balked at the idea.

  Don’t keep things from me. Emma’s words resounded in his head, and he cringed inwardly. The information regarding Io still remained his biggest secret. He was worried enough about her blaming him for what happened to Grams, but now he feared she’d also resent him for keeping the whole truth from her.

  Venn glanced from the road to Emma as she stared out the window, her brows pushed together deep in thought. He wished he could read minds. Maybe then he’d know what to do.

  “So now what?” he asked.

  Emma shook her head, then bit her lip. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She blew out a trembling breath, and then another. “I think I should get Izzy and go back to my grandmother’s.”

  “What? Why?” As long as she was at his place, Io wouldn’t bother her. It was probably the reason the demon hadn’t contacted her lately. Venn considered Io’s cunning—by killing her grandmother, he’d ensured that Emma and Venn’s relationship was on hold. What sort of bond blossomed in the midst of death?

  “Can we stop by the park on the way?” she asked.

  Venn’s head snapped around, and he tried to read her eyes. “Of course,” he replied, but as he steered the car in that direction, his beasts tuned in to his edgy disposition. Emma’s request held a hidden significance, and now that he knew Custos had a special connection with Emma, a spark of irrational jealousy ran through him. But wasn’t that like being jealous of his father, or brother, or friend? He forced the feeling aside.

  “It was foolish to think I could escape my father. I’ve been trying to run away from who I am for so long, I guess I didn’t realize what I was doing.”