Rain of Ash: Skydancer Book 1 (The Zyne Legacy)

by Gwen Mitchell

  He stepped into the house, running his hand over his freshly cut hair. Bri stilled under his lingering gaze. Another awkward silence filled the foyer.

  “You really do. Look good, I mean.” Damn. Here she was, a world-class woman, and the best he could come up with was good. He sounded like a backcountry hick and wanted to kick his own ass back onto the porch and start over.

  She dropped her gaze to the floor before letting it drift up his body, darting glances at first, then with more cling. Kean’s heart gave a heavy thud when she bit her lip.

  “You look…bigger.” Confusion flitted across her face, as if she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Then she laughed — a delicate, musical sound. His shoulders relaxed.

  “I missed that.” He’d sworn he wouldn’t come on too strong, even if this was the chance he’d begged the Universe for, but with Bri right in front of him, he didn’t care what had brought her back.

  Just don’t screw it up.

  “Missed what?” A hopeful lilt laced her question.

  His plan to go easy sailed out the window.

  “You.” To hell with trying to impress her. It wasn’t poetry, just the truth.

  “I—” Bri’s eyes misted over. “I missed you too.”

  Kean offered his hand, and the world froze for the heartbeat it took Bri to consider. She answered by wrapping her arms around him and tucking her head into his chest. He didn’t know what to say, so he just held her.

  Much too soon, she let go, wiping her eyes. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from. I guess I’m just glad to see a friendly face.”

  “I’m glad you’re back.”

  She shook her head and led him into the kitchen. “I’m not really back.”

  He stalked in behind her and leaned against the counter, watching her sift through drawers. Her movements were jerky, nervous, not her usual fluid grace. Something was wrong, aside from being flustered by the sight of him.

  She slammed another drawer closed and scratched her head.

  “Third one down on your left.”

  Bri clenched her jaw as she opened it, then set the tea out on the counter and turned on the kettle.

  “Any other odd occurrences, besides the mysterious doorbell incident?” He leaned in her way and pulled two mugs down. Geri hadn’t given him any details, but she’d hinted that the tides of Fate were turning, that Bri would somehow come back into the fold. Her power had been bound since she chose her path at seventeen, but trauma could sometimes bring on a temporary flare of magic. The soul would tap into the grounding force of the Conduit without conscious knowledge. To the untrained, it could be unpredictable, even dangerous. That was one reason he wanted Bri where he could watch over her.

  She circled her fingers around her wrist. That deer-in-the-headlights look came over her again. Spooked. “Well…”

  “What is it?”

  “I saw Ce-Ce and Tara earlier. Not like live spirits, I mean, they weren’t doing anything new…just an echo of my memories. But it was so real. Just stirred me up a bit I guess.”

  “Sounds like a psychic echo.” The Oracle. It made sense that would be Bri’s power. Her bloodline was full of them.

  “You know that’s not possible.” Bri’s calm-and-cool act was fully on, but the flash of fear in her eyes told a different story. The kettle whistled, buying her a small reprieve from his study while she poured.

  “It’s rare, but it happens.” Kean leaned closer and turned her around to face him. He could still see plain as day when she was hiding something. “That’s not all, is it?”

  A shudder gripped her body and she tried to slip away. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  Kean rubbed her arms gently, holding her in place. He hated to see Bri suffer, but as far as he was concerned, she’d done enough running from Fate. If it had come to find her now, she had to face it. At least here he could protect her. “You need to tell me.”

  “I had a regression. A strong one.” She looked at the floor between them. “They had been getting better before that.”

  That figured, if her power was flaring. As young children, all Zyne had memories of past lives, but Bri’s nightmares had plagued her well into her teens. Something told him that wasn’t what had her on edge though. He lifted her chin and gazed into her face, but couldn’t see past the defenses she’d built there. “What else?”

  She swallowed and looked away as tears filled her eyes. “Ce-Ce appeared to me. Right after she died, or right before…I don’t know.”

  He let her go and eased back. Precognition, psychic echoes, regressions, and an astral visit? All with her powers bound.

  Holy. Shit. “That’s…a lot to handle.”

  He and Astrid had agreed to evaluate the situation once Bri was home and to tell her about their plan together. But Bri’s powers were already tipping the scales. There was no time to lose. If they were right about the accident, they were going to need Bri to uncover the truth, and she would need them more than ever.

  Bri sat at the table and stared into her mug. “Yes. It is a lot. I can’t believe they’re gone. I think my brain is just refusing to accept it. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

  Kean joined her, wondering how to ease into this as gently as possible. Subtlety was not his forte, but he gritted his teeth and tried. “You’re not crazy. Your power is flaring.”

  She shook her head and sipped her tea. “It can’t be. It’s bound with blood magic.”

  “How would you explain your visions then?”

  She clenched her jaw. “Grief. Survivor’s guilt. Coming back here after so long just brought the memories to the surface.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “And the regression?”

  Bri laughed — not her normal laugh — a little too high and desperate. “Stress. Maybe my meds need to be tweaked. It happened before I even knew about the accident.” She paused for a thoughtful moment, and then nodded into her teacup.

  Kean reached for her arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s more than that, and you damn well know it. You can’t ignore this. Maybe if we release the binding—”

  She set down her cup as if it were delicate crystal and narrowed a glare at him. “I don’t want it released. Haven’t you been paying attention all these years? I don’t want any part of this. I only came here to settle some business. I’m not staying.”

  He stiffened at the thought of her abandoning them again. How could she ignore such an obvious message from the Universe? “You are a part of this whether you like it or not. This is your home, your heritage.”

  She pulled her arm from his grip. “My heritage is gone. The last of my family is burned to ash. There’s nothing for me here.”

  Nothing? He spread his hands on either side of his mug, forcing himself to relax. This wasn’t going how he’d envisioned at all. “What about me? Astrid? Geri? We need you. Don’t you think it’s high time we figure out what the hell is going on with your family? What if there really is a curse?”

  She was already shaking her head before he got the words out. “Don’t you dare talk to me about curses.” She waved her hand in the air by her head as if clearing away cobwebs. “This whole damn thing is a curse. I never asked for it. I’m supposed to have a choice, and this is not the life I’ve chosen.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I shouldn’t have even come back.”

  Bri’s mug broke into shards, exploding from the inside. Hot tea cascaded off the table and into her lap.

  Kean winced. Dammit. He should have better control, but that woman got under his skin like no other.

  Bri leapt out of her chair to brush the beads of liquid from her skirt with shaky hands. “What the hell, Kean!”

  “Sorry.” He took a deep breath and reined himself back in. “You may be too stubborn to see it right now, but you’re in danger, Bri. You need us as much as we need you. More. I can protect you.”

  Bri put the kitchen counter between them, her eyes wide with shock. Astrid was right
— as usual — he was the wrong person for this job. A bull in a china shop. His charm was obviously a little rusty. He stood and gulped the rest of his tea in one painful swallow.

  “You’re not hearing me. I can’t do this.”

  “It’s you who doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t change the truth. Your power is a wild card at this point, and if you’re not prepared, it could break you. You’ll have to face that eventually. One way or another.”

  Bri hugged her arms around herself, her expression a thin façade about to crumble any second. His stomach sizzled with bitterness at the thought of how she would reject the comfort he wanted so badly to give her.

  “You should go.”

  He stared at her face, telling his legs to move, but his feet stayed rooted in place. Their gazes met and held, and Bri took in a shaky breath. Behind her tough mask he saw a well of sadness and fear. A phantom ache of her pain blossomed in his chest. Why was she always pushing him away when she needed him the most?

  Kean leaned over the counter, letting the truth fill his eyes. “You turned your back on us, Briana, but no matter what you do, I won’t do the same. I can’t.”

  I won’t let you go this time without a fight.

  Bri’s mask started to crumple. Her face went ghost pale. “Get out.”

  He clenched his jaw, already wishing that for once he’d kept his big mouth shut. He moved toward her, intent on making things right, but she spun away. Her reflection stared from the dark windowpane as she built an invisible wall between them. He had the sense to know pushing anymore tonight would only make it thicker.

  Kean showed himself out, sighing as he stepped off the porch. He started his truck already hearing Astrid’s voice in his head: Way to go, jackass.

  Chapter Five

  You turned your back on us, Briana.

  Kean’s words echoed through her thoughts as she swept up the shards of china from the kitchen and the broken mirror in the bedroom the next morning. She’d tossed and turned all night, too wired to sleep and too afraid to dream. At dawn, it was ten PM Sydney time. She was utterly exhausted, but had pulled herself out of bed. The upstairs bathroom needed scrubbing, the downstairs floors needed polishing, the curtains needed vacuuming. She rationalized that she was doing her part to make sure the house would sell quickly, but the reality was she needed something to channel her nervous energy into. She would normally work, but couldn’t bring herself to play music in her current state. She was still too raw. Damming her feelings up and mentally checking out with busy work seemed like a much better strategy.

  There were dozens of unfinished craft projects scattered all over the house. She buzzed from room to room collecting a jumble of tarot cards, crystals, pendants, and half-burned candles to stow in Ce-Ce’s study. As a child, the small room tucked in the back corner of the house where her grandmother held readings had always fascinated Bri. She would linger in the hall, playing with her dolls, listening to the soft murmur of voices and summoning bells as the scents of sage and incense seeped out and cocooned her.

  When she opened the door, she stumbled back, spilling everything in a heap in the doorway. All the books had been ripped from the shelves. Drawers were pulled out, their contents scattered across the hardwood. The furniture was toppled over. The antique Tiffany lamp broken into a hundred pieces. Shredded cushions and pillow stuffing littered the floor.

  Either a tornado had hit the study, or…someone had torn through it.

  A foreboding chill crept along her skin. She kicked the heap further into the room and slammed the door, then leaned against the opposite wall, trying to catch her breath. Her heart pounded down to her feet. Her vision went spotty.

  Breathe. She focused all of her spinning thoughts on one thing: oxygen. After ten good breaths, she sat down in the kitchen to think through things rationally while the straps cinching her lungs slowly loosened.

  This is nuts.

  No way was she cut out to handle this. Insomnia, delusions, night terrors, and now panic attacks. She had not come pharmaceutically prepared to manage a breakdown of this magnitude. She had already been buckling under the pressure of her record deal and the proposal she was sure would follow soon after. Those problems seemed like a lifetime ago, squashed by the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future. The thought that Kean could be right — that her power could be flaring beyond her control — was the most terrifying of all.

  Just keep it together for two more days.

  And then what? Kean said she was in danger.

  What was going on here? Why would someone break into Ce-Ce’s house just to ransack one room? All the valuables and jewelry were untouched, as far as she could tell. It looked more like someone had been searching for something. Should she call the police? Had Ce-Ce gotten into some kind of trouble? Or…had she finally gone off the deep end?

  You would be the last to know.

  Kean was right about one thing. She had turned her back. On all of them.

  What else was he right about?

  When she’d first heard the rumors, Ce-Ce had assured her there was no curse on their family. Children are cruel and people — especially witches — are superstitious. If there was a curse, she would see it. Bri had believed her. According to the coroner, her mother’s death had been an accidental drowning. Still, in a small town, gossip takes root and spreads like weeds. The other story was that her mother had gone slowly crazy, lost her husband and her mind, and eventually took a long walk off a high cliff. Some rumors were easier to dismiss than others.

  Ce-Ce had wanted her to see something. What? She couldn’t make herself recall the images from that night again, though she would never escape the echo of them. Her heart squeezed tight, refusing to beat for a moment.

  Despite wanting to run as fast as she could back to her safe, predictable life two continents away, she trusted Kean. He wouldn’t lie, and he wouldn’t scare her for nothing. If he said she was in danger, he must have good reason to believe so. But he also clearly still had feelings for her, and therefore an ulterior motive for wanting her to stay. She needed hard facts. Luckily, she knew just the person to see for the no-holds-barred truth.

  Even with its yard of overgrown sea grasses and thorny bushes, Astrid’s cliffside bungalow was hard to miss. The skull and crossbones flapping on the flagpole were a dead giveaway.

  Briana did a quick make-up double-check in the visor mirror. Her belly was wound up tight with nerves. Astrid had once been the only person in the world whose opinion mattered. Until Briana’s decision to move to New York. The chasm between them as a result of that one choice had not been breached since. They’d written letters, talked on the phone, sent birthday cards…but it had never been the same. Their connection had slowly dwindled.

  You turned your back on us. Kean’s words wouldn’t leave her alone. How would Astrid react to seeing her after all this time? Was she holding a grudge too?

  When she stepped onto the porch, a Halloween witch lit up at her feet and cackled. The screeching, howling, and barking of what sounded like an entire zoo erupted inside. A few seconds later, the side curtains twitched, and the door swung open.

  “Bri!” Astrid threw herself into Briana’s arms, and she was too stunned to do anything but catch her. For such a petite pixie of a woman, Astrid gave rib-crushing hugs. She squeezed, then held Bri at arm’s length. “Hot damn, girl! You look like the cover of Vanity Fair.”

  “Umm…thanks?” Bri was at a loss for such an apt description of Astrid. Earth Muffin meets Punk Rock? Her white-blonde hair was chopped short and uneven and streaked with vibrant shades of blue and purple. She wore a pair of bright green leggings and a patchwork sweater that could fit around three people. Her youthful glow and rosy cheeks gave her an ageless quality, but she’d hardened her looks with a series of piercings in her eyebrows, nose, and the center of her chin.

  “Don’t just stand there like you’re selling encyclopedias, come in!”

  Astrid’s house smelled o
f potting soil and patchouli incense, which barely covered up the pungent animal musk. A sea of furry creatures sniffed at Bri’s feet as she stepped onto the shag carpeting. Tails wagged, curious cat-eyes stared, and a few heads of the rodent variety popped up from the crowd. The main part of the house was one large room with a woodstove in the middle, the chimney and exposed wood beams met at the central peak.

  “I wish you’d told me you were coming,” Astrid said over her shoulder. She scooped up an Iguana perched on the back of a chair and put him into his habitat, right beside an aquarium full of hermit crabs.

  Bri followed her to the gleaming stainless steel kitchen that took up half of the greatroom. The southern wall was made entirely of glass. Shelves full of plants, flowers, and cages spanned from floor to ceiling.

  “I would have cleaned up.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She shook her head, mesmerized by the sprawling view through the windows. Distant islands emerged from the fog, fringed by a golden halo of light. The scene warmed her to the core, like only the feeling of coming home could. Or maybe it was Astrid’s welcoming vibe. The tension she’d harbored inside about their meeting unfurled. “This is so beautiful.”

  “It’s home. When I bought the property I lived in a tipi the first two years. I just finished building the house this past summer. I’m glad you got to see it finally.” Astrid stood beside her, a fat orange tabby cat cradled in the crook of her arm. “So. How are you, Bri?”

  The question sounded so familiar, so steady, as if they’d seen each other only yesterday. Bri forced a smile and reached over to scratch behind the ginger cat’s ear, a million thoughts and questions whirling through her brain. “I’m really not sure.”

  Astrid squeezed her hand, her expression grave, the hint of tears building behind her velvety blue eyes. She said more with that one look than anyone else could in a whole epitaph. Unfortunately, it made the loss that much more real, seeing it mirrored in Astrid’s sweet face. Bri braced for the inevitable condolences, the thought of which made her stomach flop around like a fish on dry land.