Descendant

by Giles, Nichole

  The wooden door splinters into pieces, but the woman still sings. The room fills with men. One snatches the bowl and dumps the contents into the chamber pot, a sneer turning his eyes coal black. The glowing stops and the woman cries, anguished. The spell is broken.

  The sneering man grabs her around the waist and she shrieks, lashing out with all her strength. She’s no match for him, and he carries her away.

  As the plane touches down, I jerk awake and wipe a bead of cold sweat off my forehead. My fingers brush Kye’s cheek. The blanket is on the ground and we’ve curled into each other to compensate.

  He smiles, his face unguarded, intimate. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

  “All right, I guess. Better than the bench.” I stretch my back, peering out the window at the jumble of towering buildings. “So that’s New York.”

  “Yep.” he says. “Been a while since I was here.”

  “Never for me.” My excitement builds. “Will we have time for sightseeing?”

  Kye runs both hands through his hair. “Maybe.”

  After we have our luggage and are standing in line for a cab, Kye makes a call on his cell phone. “It’s me,” he says. “Did you talk to him? Well, it’s kind of late to warn him now. We’re just leaving the airport. Listen, we need to talk about Juri—”

  I deduce he’s probably talking to Mr. Akers. A skycap holds the door as we climb in a cab. Kye shakes the man’s hand, still on the phone, but I don’t miss the subtle transfer of money.

  “How long before he recovers? I’m afraid he’ll follow us here. He thinks Abby has—yeah. We need to talk about what we saw in his office, too. Listen, we’re in a cab. I’ll check back later tonight. See what else you can find.” He hangs up and scrolls through his contact list to give the driver an address. “I love technology.”

  A thick layer of brownish-yellow smog hovers over the buildings, darkening the sky as we drive into the city. When I can’t stand the silence anymore, I ask Kye to tell me more about Theron and Raina.

  Kye clears his throat. “Where did I leave off?”

  “The prince was in love.”

  “Right.” He takes my hand and traces along each finger and into my palm. “So, they planned a royal wedding. The biggest celebration Dryden ever had. The whole kingdom was invited to a three-day party.”

  “Sounds amazing.” I have a momentary flash of guilt over missing Rose’s birthday bash.

  “Theron and Raina hid in their room after the ceremony. Isleen made them come out and mingle every once in a while, but they really wanted to be alone.

  “On the third day, there was a fight in the ballroom. Theron went to check things out and discovered that the castle was under attack. Everyone at the party was either dead or injured or gone. Theron ran around calling for Healers and searching for his parents.

  “He found his father’s body in the courtyard. The head was about fifty feet from the rest of him.”

  “Ew.” I shudder. “TMI.”

  “Sorry. So, Theron searched the castle for his mother and Rhys, but there was no trace of them anywhere.”

  My brow furrows as the somewhat familiar story takes an unexpected turn. “Are you sure that’s how it happened?”

  “This is the story as I read it. Well, okay, not in those exact words, but yeah. Why?”

  I bite my thumbnail. “I dreamed this—or at least I think I did. But it was different.”

  “Shall I tell you the rest? Or do you already know how it ends?”

  “No, that’s as far as I got.” I sigh. “Please finish.”

  “The guards cleaned up the mess and buried the dead, and Theron sent groups of knights to search for any trace of Isleen or Rhys.”

  “What about Raina?” I can’t forget how she screamed as the man carried her off. “What happened to her?”

  “Well,” Kye says, his voice measured. “When Theron went to tell Raina what was happening, she was gone. The only signs of struggle were a bowl of herbs spilled on the floor and a double-heart-shaped burn in the wood. Theron found her ring under the bed.

  “The thing is Theron and Raina never told anyone about their time in the forest. No one knew how they fell in love, but when Theron ordered Raina’s ring, he asked for two heart-cut diamonds, one blue and one white. Individually, each stone was highly powerful, but together, they held the unbreakable power of true love.”

  Kye rubs my ring with his thumb. “If these are real diamonds, there’s a really good chance this is it. We both know it has power.”

  “Yes.” My eyes widen as realization sinks in. I knew the story would end this way. The movie of it has been playing in my head in bits and pieces for weeks. “Raina disappeared.”

  “Theron searched for a long time but never found a trace of her. A few years later, Theron returned to Dryden, heartbroken, and swore he’d never love again.”

  “So, so sad.” A hard ball of grief forms in the pit of my stomach. “What did he do with the ring?”

  “That’s where the legend gets hazy. No one knows for sure because it was never seen again. Or so we all thought.” He flashes a grin at me. “I bet your gram knew something about that.”

  I return his smile, let my eyelids flutter flirtatiously, and sit up as the cab pulls to a stop. “Probably.”

  The streets here are much less crowded than those in the heart of the city, and though there’s still a hungry quality to the air, this neighborhood feels more peaceful. Kye pays with cash and grasps my hand, striding to a tall red door to ring the bell.

  A voice, deep and male, crackles in a tiny speaker, “Yes? Can I help you?”

  Kye grins, looking younger than I’ve ever seen him look. “I sure hope so, Dad. If not we’re in a mess of trouble.”

  NINETEEN

  Raina and Abby

  Eoin Murphy’s home isn’t what I expected. When Kye first told me his father lives in New York City, I envisioned a man who wears designer suits and rides around in a limousine. I imagined him living in a sprawling penthouse apartment in a fancy high-rise building. A tall, blond demi-god who is classy and loaded—because who else could have fathered Kye, and what else would explain his lack of worry over the cost of this trip?

  Given my background, and considering my current circumstances, I thought at this point that nothing could surprise me. Of course, I thought wrong.

  We climb three flights of stairs because the elevator is broken, and knock on the door. The man who answers has an over-large nose and straight, sandy hair that sticks up in the back. He is slightly shorter than Kye and wearing a rumpled T-shirt and crooked basketball shorts. “My boy!” He throws his arms around Kye. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be going to school in Jackson. Or has that changed since last month?”

  “No, I’m still there. It’s spring break.” Kye pounds his father on the back, affectionately returning his father’s embrace before pulling back to make introductions. “Dad, this is Abby.”

  “Good to meet you, Abby. Welcome.” Eoin grasps my offered hand.

  “Thank you. You’re not what I expected.”

  He chuckles. “Well, I didn’t expect either of you. But come in, come in.”

  He moves some things off the sofa, making a place for us to sit, and offers us herbal tea. Kye and I are situated so close together our elbows touch every time we move. The space Eoin has cleared is the only available seating I can see. We’re surrounded by stacks of books and papers, odds and ends, and interesting-looking trinkets that cover all available surfaces, including the bookshelves lining the walls. Most of the books appear old, possibly even antique.

  This may be a home, but it feels more like a box to me. The kitchen and living area are basically the same room, with a short counter running between carpet and tile. I haven’t seen the bedroom, but I imagine it’s the size of my closet at home.

  Kye gestures to the books lying open on the table. “It’s research. Dad works best in an environment of controlled chaos. The funny thing is h
e knows exactly where to find everything he needs whenever he needs it.”

  Eoin clears a space on the counter and sets down three mugs of steaming tea, a package of bagels and a tub of cream cheese. “Sorry, it’s the best I can offer on such short notice.” He glances around with a shrug. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have cleaned up a bit.” My stomach rumbles as I help myself to a bagel. “This is perfect. Thanks.”

  “We haven’t eaten since the airport in Las Vegas, and that was hours ago.” Kye opens the cream cheese tub and hands me a butter knife. “Sorry about the communication breakdown, Dad. Lan was supposed to call you.”

  Mumbling about needing to find his smart phone, Eoin takes his mug to the table. He stacks the books and papers together and sets them on the floor to make a place for us. I sit at the table across from Eoin. Kye sits next to me, chewing vigorously and gulping his tea.

  Kye’s dad watches us down our snacks, patiently keeping his questions to himself until we’re finished. “If you’re still hungry, we can order pizza. Or go out to a restaurant, if you prefer.”

  Kye leans back in his chair, glancing at me. “Maybe in a bit.”

  Eoin clears his throat. “So ... don’t take this the wrong way, because, I love you, son. But what are you doing here?”

  “You really need to find your phone, Dad,” Kye says. “A lot has happened in the last few days. The Elen are looking for the Arawn Keys.”

  Eoin frowns at the mention of the Keys. “That’s nothing new. They’ve always been looking.”

  “Yeah, well, they must be getting closer, because now the Fae are involved, which drags Abby and me into the search.” At his father’s look of confusion, Kye shakes his head and continues, “Long story. Lan sent us to see Juri in Las Vegas—not a friendly guy, by the way—and he showed us that Cairn Elen thing.”

  I draw in a deep breath as Kye tells him the full story, shivering at the memory of what has transpired in the last forty-eight hours. Kye notices and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together and absently stroking my thumb with his. Considering that Eoin and I have only just met, Kye’s off-handed yet blatant gesture of possession makes me self-conscious. I have to remind myself we have much bigger worries than whether or not our parents approve of our relationship. If that’s what this is.

  “Anyway,” Kye continues, “we could really use your help, Dad.” He holds my hand up so Eoin can see my ring. “What do you think of this?”

  Eoin’s mouth falls open. Here’s an expression I recognize. He lets out a slow breath. “Where did you get that, Abby?”

  I swallow, fighting the urge to hide. “It was my grandmother’s. I inherited it when she ... died.”

  “Do you know where she got it?”

  I shake my head because I really don’t have a clue.

  Eoin studies me. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” I untangle my hand from Kye’s and fold my arms to hide my hands.

  Eoin rubs his knuckles over his lips and exchanges a glance with Kye. “Okay. Am I correct in assuming your gram was Gifted with a special ability?”

  “She was a Healer.”

  “And you?”

  I hesitate. After a lifetime of keeping my Gifts a secret, I’m suddenly telling a whole lot of people.

  “Abby has two Gifts,” Kye says. “She’s a Healer like her gram, and she has Sight as well.”

  Heat creeps up my cheeks as I stare at the scarred wooden surface of the table, thinking of Gram and Eric and how miserably I’ve failed to ever Heal anyone. Maybe I don’t have two Gifts. Maybe I only have Sight and we just thought I was a Healer because I picked up a natural instinct from living with Gram. Maybe if I stop telling myself I can Heal people, I won’t feel that sick dread that comes whenever I think of my future. Maybe if I accept it now, I’ll be able to focus on the things I can do instead of the one thing I can’t. “We might be wrong about my Healing ability,” I mumble. “Gram wanted it to be true. She said it was true, but it’s never actually worked. I’ve never been able to Heal anyone. Maybe Gram was wrong.”

  Kye rubs my shoulder. “Don’t say that, Abby. I’ve seen you. I saw you work on Eric.”

  “Who consequently could have died, and me along with him.” I let out a shaky breath, leaning away from Kye. “I’ve patched cuts and scrapes, and once saved a dog—probably a total fluke. It’s possible that anyone with the right herbs and healing crystals could’ve done all that.”

  While Kye stares at me in stunned silence, Eoin clears his throat. “Tell me about your Sight.”

  I comply, and as I talk, I mentally draw a line between my visions from the past and my life in the present. What if Kye is that boy? Maybe he’s the one I’ve been searching for all this time. It would explain our connection, that instant recognition. It would explain why touching him feels so right, so familiar. It would explain everything. When I’m finished, Eoin runs a hand through his hair, the same way Kye sometimes does. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.” I lean my elbows on the table, reeling with my newest realization. Soul mates?

  Kye and Eoin exchange another surreptitious look.

  “What?” I snap. “What are you not telling me?”

  “Nothing.” Kye sounds exasperated. “I already told you I think your ring might be the one Theron gave Raina. I just—what if it was more than a wedding ring? What if it’s one of the Arawn Keys?” He looks again at his father. “Is that possible?”

  “Entirely.” Eoin picks up a book, opens it on the table, and flips through the pages until settling on a specific one. He turns the book around, pushes it toward me, and taps the faded script. “Take a look at that.”

  The sketch is faded and the artwork questionable, but the design is eerily similar. I hold out my hand to compare. “It could be, I guess.”

  Eoin’s fingers graze the page. “There’s no proof, but if what Kye says is true—if what I see in you with my own eyes is accurate—then yes, I’m guessing that is the same ring.”

  “What does that mean? What you see in me?”

  “I see that your soul is older than your body. You have an unusual depth of compassion, and trust, and ... something else, but I can’t find the words to describe it.” Eoin takes the book back and turns the page. “How much Gifted history do you know?”

  “Kye told me about the King and Queen of Dryden, and the story of Theron and Raina.”

  Eoin nods in approval. “Good place to start.”

  “He said Raina’s ring has the power of true love.” I lift my hand so the stones catch the sunlight and reflect sparkles of color all over the walls.

  “May I?” Eoin asks. Nodding, I drop it in his outstretched palm.

  “Wow, that was easy.” Kye jokes. “As I recall, you pounded on me when I first looked at it.”

  I glare at Kye, annoyed. “He asked nicely. You just took it. I hardly knew you at the time. How was I supposed to know you’d give it back without throwing it across the parking lot?”

  “Well. I have been known to throw things from time to time.” Kye’s grin infuriates me, so I shove him away and accept my ring back from Eoin, who returns to the pages in his book.

  “When the Ring of the Princess was lost is unclear,” he says. “After Raina disappeared, rumor circulated that Theron kept it on a chain around his neck, holding on to the hope that he would someday find his princess and return it to her. But after Theron died, the ring was never recorded as having been seen again in all the history of Dryden.”

  He taps another section of text and reads aloud. “Theron, heir to Dryden’s throne, was many years in his searching. Neither Queen Isleen nor Captain Rhys ever returned. The kingdom fell into disarray. Crime became rampant, and the peaceful lives in which the community had lived crumbled without a leader to enforce the laws. Rumors spread, suggesting that Rhys and the queen had run off together. Theron’s parentage was called into question. The name of the beloved Isleen was defiled and defamed.

  “While Theron
was abroad searching for his family, his cousin, the Duke of Nairn, came to visit and, finding the palace devoid of the royal family, immediately laid claim to the throne.

  “He took control, cleaned up the city, and restored order within the realm. But Nairn was not meant to be King of Dryden. He ruled it with an iron hand, ruthless in punishment, raw in temper, and hateful in vengeance.”

  I shudder, strangely reminded of Hitler.

  Eoin continues reading. “Nairn fell in love with power and prepared to do battle with Theron for the throne. But when Theron returned, weakened by his shattered heart, he was in no condition to reclaim the throne. For forty days, he locked himself in the room he had shared with Raina, refusing even an audience with the cousin who had ruled in his absence. When he emerged, it was with plans to build a memorial fountain in honor of his missing family, after which he would reclaim the throne and resume his duties as King of Dryden.”

  “That poor guy,” I murmur. Suffocating sorrow hangs in the room. “First he loses his parents, then his true love, and then he has to fight for his kingdom.”

  “Theron never actually fought, though,” Kye says. “Didn’t he disappear after the memorial was dedicated?”

  “Yes. He was presumed dead. Then the Duke ran the kingdom into the ground.” Eoin turns the page, pauses in unmasked surprise, but then shakes his head and picks up the book to pace with it. “Prince Theron’s disappearance was the catalyst for the people of Dryden. They had lived in fear of Duke Nairn, waiting and hoping for the return of the royal family, but Nairn reclaimed the throne the day after Theron’s memorial service. His first order of business—after crowning himself king—was to destroy the fountain and call in an army of demon guards to enforce his new laws. Eventually, the people rose up against Nairn and the demons, and the kingdom went to war ...” Eoin’s voice trails off, and he stares out the window.

  “Dad?” Kye takes the book from his father. “Are you okay?”

  Eoin shakes himself. “Yes, sorry. Just imagining what a horrible battle it must’ve been. A lot of innocent people died. When the war was over, the destruction was so complete that the city had literally disappeared. It sank into the ground, and was never seen again.”