Ties That Bind: a New Adult Fantasy Novel (The Spire Chronicles Book 2)

by Ashley Meira

  If they did, they were traitors and deserved to be burned. Which would be great because then I could torch these bodies. I stood up, reloaded my gun, and holstered it before wiping my face… And now there was blood all over my hands. Why did I think that was a good idea? Forethought was a skill I kept hoping to grow into.

  Alex was standing amidst a pile of dead hellhounds. Blood soaked through his pants, but he looked fine otherwise. Very fine.

  I walked over to him and asked, “Any chance I could get you to drag all these bodies away from the leaves so I can burn them?”

  “Depends,” he shrugged, “what do I get for it?”

  “Me not worrying about them being really dead on the way back.”

  “Relax.” He cupped my cheek, swiping some of the blood away. “I’ve killed plenty of demons like this. You don’t always have to set things on fire.” A grin tugged at his lips as he spoke. “Maybe you should see someone about that.”

  “Oh, please.” I scoffed and grabbed his wrist. “Maybe you should see someone about your fetish for stabbing things into people.”

  “Not things. My sword.”

  “That just reinforces my point. In so many ways.” I stuck my tongue out and immediately grimaced as more blood got on it. Demon blood always tasted so smoky, not to mention that it was bad to consume large amounts of it. “Can we just finish this up and go home? I want to shower for, like, days. Maybe with company,” I added with a wink, getting blood into my eye. Fuck this.

  “All right.” Alex moved closer, presumably to place a kiss on my forehead, but backed away with a frown. Yeah, good luck finding an unbloodied spot on my face. “Let me just ‘work out my issues’ first.”

  With those words, he walked towards the un-decapitated bodies, twirling his sword around with a bit too much enthusiasm.

  By the time we got back to my place, the blood had dried and was starting to crust in some very uncomfortable places. The house was empty. Lily, Lady Cassandra’s niece and my aforementioned sort-of cousin, had been staying with me ever since she discovered her aunt’s body last month. She was probably still helping out over at the clinic, but I figured she’d be home soon enough; Lily rarely missed a night of Alex’s cooking.

  Alex still had a room booked at the local inn, but he spent most of his nights with me. It was awkward the first time he offered to come a bit earlier and make dinner, but I forced myself to move past it. Apparently, my stomach was the real decision maker in my life.

  When I became a hunter, I told myself that it would be pointless to get romantically invested in someone, that it was better to stick to casual sexual relationships. This was a dangerous job, after all. It would be selfish of me to get involved with a person and then die, leaving them alone. And getting involved with a hunter? That topped the list of dumb things I could do.

  I didn’t want to be left alone, either.

  “Home sweet home.” I peeled off my ruined jacket. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I definitely do not feel like having sex while caked in blood. Wet blood, maybe. But dried blood? Completely limp.”

  “I think I can let it go just this once,” said Alex.

  Showers were a blessing beyond belief. I took in the soothing heat as I watched the red tinged water slide down the drain until the only color left was the white of the marble beneath my tired feet.

  The familiar feeling of my flesh pulling together tugged at my back. I still didn’t understand how my regeneration abilities worked. I guess I never really bothered to – who cares as long as it saved my life, right? All I’d figured out was that it tended to kick in sooner the graver my injuries were and that it only worked on cuts and breaks. So, getting stabbed, clawed, shot, or breaking any bones and losing teeth would trigger the regeneration, but punches, bruises, and all that other stuff was up to me.

  Which meant I couldn’t wear earrings and that I was going to be sporting a lovely bruise thanks to that psycho ginger Tinkerbell. At least my nose wasn’t broken, though Alex did have to reset it. He better be baking me a cake for that experience, the brute.

  I practically skipped down the stairs in my oversized t-shirt, the smell of chicken luring me over to the kitchen. Alex was setting the table while wearing that ridiculous “Kiss the Cook” apron Lily gave me one year as a joke. There really should be a law against letting me anywhere near a stove. I mean, the only person worse than me in the kitchen was her, and that’s only because I, contrary to my very nature, haven’t managed to set anything on fire yet.

  Alex smiled as I stepped into the room. “Lily called – said she’d be late and to save her some leftovers.”

  “Mhm.” I nodded absently, trying not to drool over all the food.

  “Oh, and one more thing.” He came over and wrapped an arm around my waist. His lips pressed against mine, warm and firm, and I melted against him, threading my fingers through his hair.

  There was a goofy, satisfied smile on my face when he pulled away. “Is that all?” I asked. It would have been coy if my stomach hadn’t decided to start growling louder than any of those hellhounds had. “Shut up,” I mumbled against his chest as he laughed.

  I was on my third serving when the phone rang. Alex went to answer it, shooting a concerned look at all the food I’d piled up. Hey, I was small. Small people burned energy faster.

  I have no idea if that’s true.

  “It’s Rowan,” he said, putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the table.

  Rowan had been one of the greatest hunters in the Order over six hundred years ago. When she got older, she – along with a handful of other accomplished hunters – agreed that upon their deaths their souls would be placed in new vessels in order for them to guide future hunters. Sadly, those vessels were limited to a variety of smaller animals such as birds, cats, and so on. I didn’t know the specifics of the ritual. Only the Council did, and they showed no interest in sharing that with anyone.

  Now, Rowan was in the body of a fluffy black cat with piercing green eyes. She became my partner when Lady Cassandra decided I would be a good candidate to lead the Maxwell family. In those years, Rowan had become like a second (or third, technically) mother to me as well as a close friend; the chance to speak with her again had me grinning from ear to ear.

  Since we prevented the first lock on the Spire from being broken, Rowan had been sequestered with the Council while they sorted through everything that had happened. We used to spend all our waking time together, and now I hadn’t seen her in over a month. Hopefully, this was the call that would tell me she was coming home soon.

  “Rowan,” I crooned.

  “Morgan.” Her husky voice was a sound for sore ears. “Have you been behaving?”

  “Never,” I said. “You know, it still amazes me how you manage to dial with those widdle paws of yours.”

  “Alex, please scratch her for me.”

  “He already scratches all my itches.”

  Alex snorted, then chuckled and shook his head good-naturedly. “Is this a social call, Lady Rowan? Morgan would never admit it, but she misses you dearly.”

  I smacked his knee and gave him my best fake stern look. “He is a filthy liar.”

  “You two have plenty in common, then,” she said.

  “…I miss you less now.”

  “I thought you didn’t miss me at all?”

  I pouted, alternating between glaring at Alex and the phone.

  “Anyway,” said Alex, bending down to press a kiss to my forehead, “what can we do for you?”

  Rowan sighed in a way I was still surprised a feline could. “There’s a problem.”

  The severity in her tone had me sitting up straight. Alex and I exchanged looks before I spoke again, the lightness in my voice gone. “What’s wrong, Rowan? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She paused a moment. “It’s your father.”

  2

  Before the call, I could have eaten another full plate or two. Now, even looking at the food made me sick.
I leaned back in the chair, bringing one of my knees up to hug. Alex took a seat but remained silent, probably sensing my mood, which wasn’t hard considering I was radiating waves of contempt. You could probably surf on them– No, damn it.

  Surfing was done on water. Which Order city is located by the water? Dovesport. What family ruled there? The Wallace family. As in Sullivan Wallace. As in my father. As in fuck that.

  “He’s requested your help regarding an important matter,” said Rowan.

  My jaw clenched as I tried to push aside the tinge of relief that came over me to learn he hadn’t been hurt. This was a man I hadn’t spoken to since I was eight, when he told me he was sending me away. The man who could barely stand to greet me during Order meetings. That I had even the slightest bit of feeling towards him beside contemptuous indifference had me scowling. He lost the right to be my father when he gave me up eighteen years ago.

  “There are plenty of hunters in Dovesport,” I said, pressing my chin against my knee to hide the pout that was forming.

  “He asked for you by name.”

  “Well, he can go fuck himself.” Guess I wasn’t above petty bitterness yet – I’d have to keep working for contemptuous indifference.

  Alex’s eyebrows came together and he frowned. “Morgan.”

  “What?” I said petulantly. “The man hasn’t said more than a curt hello to me in eighteen years and now he asks for me ‘by name’?” I shook my head. “Screw that. He didn’t even bother calling me himself.”

  “He’s your father,” he said.

  “I don’t have a father.”

  Alex’s eyes widened. “Morgan!”

  “Enough,” Rowan interrupted in a clipped voice. “This is a serious matter.”

  “The last time Sullivan,” I spat the name out – he didn’t get to claim the title of Father, “asked to see me, it was to tell me to pack my things so he could ship me off to live here.”

  “Maybe he wants to make amends,” said Alex.

  My toes curled around the edge of the chair as my bitterness grew, creeping over me like strangling vines and leaving a horrible taste in my mouth. “Then, he’s eighteen years too late.”

  “Do either of you want to know what the actual problem is, or do you need to call Trish for some couple’s counseling?” Rowan snapped.

  “We’re not a–” I bit my lip. There was already enough going on without throwing relationship questions into the mix. “What is it?”

  Apparently, I didn’t cut off fast enough, because the room dropped about twenty degrees from Alex’s cold shoulder. My anger faded into guilt as I watched him purse his lips, his jaw doing that nutcracker impression, and look away. Great.

  It’s not that I didn’t like Alex. I did. I really did. But that didn’t mean it was smart to get involved with him. Well, more than I already had. My feelings didn’t change the reality of our lives, of our jobs. I knew he wanted us to become something more than a casual dalliance, though, and I knew my words had hurt him. What I didn’t know was how to fix things without committing to a relationship that could leave us both broken-hearted.

  “There’s a war brewing between the Garou and Protean that call Dovesport’s forest home,” said Rowan.

  That was…weird. Sure, Garou (werewolves) and Protean (shapeshifters) weren’t exactly on the best of terms. In general, the only thing they agreed on was that vampires and demons were abominations, which was balanced by the fact that demons and vampires thought they were little more than wild animals. So, at least it wasn’t a one-sided hate. Four-sided. Whatever.

  Still, for any of the tribes to actually declare war was unheard of these days, especially those who lived near Dovesport. In the past, plenty of wars were waged between the Garou and Protean over territory and hunting grounds, but they eventually learned to live in peace. If only to avoid extinction at the hands of mankind; their violent wars drew too much attention from outsiders who feared for their lives.

  The majority of both races shunned human society, preferring to keep to the wilds. I’d only ever met a handful of either race in cities, and from what I learned, they were completely different to their reclusive siblings. It was something about the culture the tribes passed on to their own. “Rogues” aren’t taught anything until they agree to join the respective tribe and undergo a ceremony wherein they prove themselves, usually through combat.

  I couldn’t help thinking this might be related to what happened last month. It was just a niggling thought in the back of my mind, but it was there nonetheless. First, someone tries to open Hell’s most dangerous prison. Now, there’s a war brewing between two races that have been at peace for centuries? Two anomalous events, both taking place in cities of the Order. It was a little too on the nose to be a coincidence. I said as much to Rowan, who agreed.

  “It’s certainly strange,” she said, sounding weary.

  “Has the Council found anything on the talisman Fake-Corrigan left behind?” I asked.

  “I see you’re still using that name. They discovered the talisman was created through the use of both demonic and mortal magic. Powerful magic.”

  “Which isn’t surprising considering it was dropped by a vampiric infernalist.” I criss-crossed my legs underneath me. “Mages can be turned just as easily as any other human, and you always hear about groups of vampiric Justicars clearing out nests of demon-worshiping vampires.”

  Unlike werewolves and shifters, vampires and demons weren’t on shaky yet balanced ground. They weren’t even on the same ground if they could help it. Vampires, as a whole, feared demons – both their infernal powers and corrupting influence. Of course, they would never admit to being afraid. No, they’ll deny it, all politically correct, saying they were damned enough without consorting with agents of the Serpent, but you could always pick up traces of unease, a tensing of their shoulders, when infernalism was mentioned.

  Demons thought it was funny. They didn’t see vampires as anything more than humans without a pulse and sought to corrupt them as much as they did normal humans. Well, the ones who didn’t agree with Lucifer’s orders for restraint regarding interactions with other species, which numbered high enough to be uncomfortable, did at least. It’s almost as if demons didn’t like playing by the rules or being nice to others. Go figure.

  “I told you what they found,” said Rowan. “I didn’t say it was useful.”

  I sighed. “At least now we know for sure that Fake-Corrigan is working for a powerful demon. Lovely.”

  “If it was easy, everyone would do it. Ipos is working on finding out more, but Lucifer is still calming down from his visit with Michael. According to him, the King of Hell has been locked in his room, smashing things for the past three days.”

  Chuckling, I said, “I still say a reality show with those two would make billions.”

  A quick look at Alex’s stony expression revealed he was still stewing over my couples comment. Awesome, as if I didn’t already feel like a total douche.

  “I’d like to be there when you suggest that idea to them,” said Rowan. I could practically see her tail swishing around in amusement.

  I ran a hand through my hair. “Honestly, I’d rather do that than face Sullivan.”

  “You need to start getting back out there–”

  “I am, Rowan. I’ve been hunting. Hell, we just got back from a hunt a few hours ago.”

  “–and since your father requested you by name–”

  “Which name?”

  “…‘My daughter.’”

  My eyes widened with outrage. What gave him the right to even call me that anymore? “That’s not my name.”

  “Enough,” said Alex. “I’ll go to Dovesport.”

  “He didn’t ask for you,” said Rowan.

  “Well, I’m the one he’s getting. She doesn’t want to go.” He shot a look that made me feel like I was five years old. “I’m still in the running to take over the Campbell family, so it’s not like he’s getting some run of the mill recruit
. If a war breaks out, it’ll be bad for all of us. I have a friend who lives in Dovesport. I’ll give him a call and see if he can help.”

  Without another word, he walked away, leaving me feeling two feet tall. I stared at the now cold chicken, reaching to feebly poke at it with my fork. He was right, I didn’t want to go. And Alex could handle himself – I’m pretty sure he did better tonight than I did. Hopefully, by the time he got back, he wouldn’t be upset with me anymore.

  Or, I could grow a pair and go speak to him

  “Morgan.”

  I dropped the fork. Right, Rowan was still on the line.

  “Will you tell my– Sullivan that I won’t be going, please?” I asked in a soft voice.

  There was a silence on the other end of the line that made me feel even worse than my not-boyfriend’s (Why did that term bother me so much?) cold shoulder.

  “You’re going.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Rowan let out a heavy sigh. “The reason the Garou and Protean are about to tear each other apart is because they’re being murdered. Bodies from both tribes are being found in the forest with their organs and skin removed.”

  I shoved the plate of food away from me. “That’s…”

  “Bad.”

  “Yeah, no shit, Rowan. Sorry,” I said as soon as the words left my mouth. Taking a deep, calming breath, I continued, “So, both sides think the other did it?”

  “One kills the other, then the other side does a revenge killing, and so on. That’s the theory, anyway. The official party line from both tribes is that no one has committed any murders.”

  “That’s sad. The deaths, I mean. But, I still don’t see the need for me to be there. Alex is perfectly capable of handling things.”

  “You’re being selfish.”

  My jaw locked and I had to force the words out one by one. “I’m aware. Thank you. I’m also aware that it’s unprofessional to reject a request for help because of personal feelings, but I don’t think it’s very professional to call your estranged daughter over to handle a case that anyone he has on-hand could do, either. The hunters in Dovesport aren’t idiots, Rowan, and no offense to Alex, but they’re at least nearly as capable as him. Sullivan doesn’t need to call in outside help. From anyone. I may be acting selfishly, but so is he.”