“It’s true. She is a Skydancer. And it is clear the Dark One covets her. A curse indeed.” She didn’t mention the mirror at all.
Bri looked around in confusion as the whole room burst into disorder. Small pockets in the audience formed their own conspiratorial huddles, while others shouted in outrage. The guards shifted from their positions against the wall to press on the more unruly parts of the crowd. The Council bickered in a similar fashion. She didn’t understand why this was worse news than her murdering people. She stood up.
The Kinde stationed behind her clamped his hand on her shoulder. As she leaned closer to the large granite table, she heard only short snippets of conversation.
“We cannot allow her to be exposed,” and “…stripping her power is the only way.” Words like Karma and Soul Eater and massacre.
“I don’t understand!” Bri struggled to keep the Kinde’s powerful hands from stalling her progress. “I answered your questions. I’m innocent! Now let me see my friends!”
Desperation and panic poured out of a well deep inside of her, and Bri borrowed from the strength of the emotions. She ducked away from the restraining guard and lunged for the table, for her father, with her hands stretched out. “Please, father, tell them! I need your help — I can’t let him die!”
Aldric’s face twisted with a bitter mix of emotions Bri knew too well: sympathy, remorse, and guilt. He didn’t raise a hand to help her as the Kinde picked her up by the waist and dragged her back. The chaos in the hall built, a tingling rush over her skin that made the Kinde’s hot touch almost painful. Anika tried to draw order, but the situation called for a gong, not a clarinet.
The Kinde squeezed her wrists together. She twisted in his arms to get a better angle and kick free. Before she could gain enough purchase on the slick floor, a slender shadow swooped in from the rafters. Black, soulless eyes fixed on hers, burning with hunger.
Bri snarled and fought with all her strength against the flesh manacles holding her arms behind her back. “No — you can’t do this! I have to warn them!”
Cold hands closed around her neck, and black webbing covered her vision. She went limp in her captor’s arms.
Her last thought was to be thankful Anika had not revealed the mirror, and that she had somehow managed to keep its location secret. It had taken every ounce of her control not to reveal the password she had used to lock the mirror away, knowing he was probably standing somewhere in that very room.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vivianne paced before the mirthless flames of her chamber’s hearth, her nerves grating together like the cogs of a mill, fists wringing at her side. Her skirts dusted a wet pathway on the flagstone. Where was he? The ride was an hour at most, even in the rain. And Lucas rode like part of the wind itself. Unless…
She stilled, and her breath fluttered out. Unless the Synod had reconvened and decided to extend their punitive measures. What if they’d decided to strip her powers? Or sought to separate her from Lucas? Their Hohlwen guards possessed the means to kill even an immortal, and Lucas would be one, caught unawares, against many. A shiver wracked her muscles. Her spine went rigid.
“No.”
She’d made her choice knowing full well the cost. As the Sigma of her coven, she was bound to put the good of the whole above her own desires. To lead and to protect. She was not foresworn in her heart, but her actions were all that mattered to the Synod. She’d broken the Threefold Law. She’d bound her soul to another — and not just any other — an immortal. A transgression worthy of the most serious retribution. She was cast out, now a pariah to the only ones with the power to help her.
As thunder growled in the distance, she resumed her pacing. When Lucas arrived, she would tell him the ruling of the Synod, and they would follow through with the alternative they’d discussed: seclusion. The Synod would not heed her warnings, but she would not fail her duties altogether. She would protect those she loved. She had chosen Lucas, and he, if no other, would always stand by her side. They would weather the coming storm together.
Once the ravages of the disease passed, they would start anew. It was a dangerous time for their people, most especially without the shield of the Synod, but she would not desert her family — her brothers and sisters by oath. She would use every tool and power at her disposal, even if doing so marked her as a dissenter, oathbreaker, and rogue.
Her feet ached from her turn about the room, but she could not force herself to sit idly while her thoughts churned in such a tumult. Walking kept her grounded in the present, helped her to shake off the pull of the mirror. Even as she knew the dangers of using it, she longed for a glimpse of her beloved, some reassurance she would see him soon. Unlike her own powers, there was no questioning the truth of the sights in the mirror. She ached for that surety now. Why had she locked it away?
Because it hadn’t taken a vision to know how the Synod would rule, and her most sacred oath must still stand. The mirror, before her coven, her love, or even her own life, must be protected. Even from the Synod itself. Perhaps when the plague had passed, when her people were safe, she could rebuild and bring it out of hiding. Without the safety provided by the Synod, she would need it.
Another clap of thunder and wale of wind battered at the cottage walls. The fire in the hearth sputtered. Then came the distant echo of hoof beats.
Vivianne was outside in the downpour before she could think to pull on a cloak. Sheets of rain veiled the cart trail, and the wind whipped her hair in her face. She ran, trudging through the mud as if breaking free of the mire of her own hopelessness. If she could just see him again, her world would right itself.
A lone figure, tall and sturdy and raging forward on a grey steed she would recognize anywhere, emerged from the fog. Her legs pumped faster, barely keeping up with her heart. Each stride, each beat, brought them closer.
Lucas.
Lightning striped the darkening sky behind him, revealing three black figures hovering in the gales like giant ravens. Harbingers of death.
They’d come after all.
She skidded to a halt, stumbled, and fell back into a puddle, her breathing too hectic to force out her scream of warning. Lucas charged forward harder, leaning down in his saddle as she struggled to stand, her sopping skirts anchoring her in place.
“Watch out!” She pointed over his head just as his horse pulled fore. One of the Hohlwen swooped down.
Lucas dismounted in a blur and was on his feet with his sword in hand as the first attacker touched ground. The Hohlwen dodged, twirled, and spun, anticipating each swipe of Lucas’s blade like the steps to a deadly dance.
Another landed beside her, and she scrambled away on scraped palms and tangled knees. She’d gone only paces when he hoisted her by the waist. Cold fingers clamped around the back of her neck. Her stomach heaved as he lifted her from the ground. The drain of her power felt like a fall through thin ice into frigid water. Her vision narrowed, but she turned in his arms and flailed, letting out an inarticulate scream. Her nails caught flesh, and she scratched with all her strength, then dropped back to the earth and landed with her face in the mud.
An inhuman roar echoed in her ears — a storm conjured to avenge her. The ground shook with it.
Vivianne rolled to her back in time to see the spray of black blood rain down around her before smoking into the air. The decapitated body tumbled beside her, a puppet with cut strings. The head rolled, tottered, and stopped right beside her — a beautiful ivory face, black eyes blank and staring, with four half-healed scratches marring the cheek. Another scream gurgled from her throat. She pushed with her legs to get away, but met a wall of flesh. She tilted her head back and dragged the hair out of her face to find Lucas towering over her, blooded sword in hand.
He lifted her in his arms and clutched her to his chest. His eyes flickered amber.
“Ana.” His breath came in gusts. Long fangs distorted his normally soft lips. A black claw stroked her cheek, reminding her of the red st
aining them both like war paint. “Are you harmed?”
She shook her head and clung to his shoulders, taking in the small circle of destruction. Body parts were strewn about like children’s toys, the grass and trail blackened with the death blood of their attackers — once the protectors of her way of life. The Synod’s Hohlwen guards were bound to protect the Legacy. They were enemies now…and evermore. She had chosen Lucas over the Zyne path — love over duty — and there was no turning back.
***
Bri woke still choking on a scream of frustration. Her right arm had gone numb, thanks to the way she’d been dropped on the floor. Her throat had swollen with the tears she could not cry in unconsciousness. Now they leaked from her eyes in passive streams, as if a dam had burst. Her stomach cramped with the force of betrayal she felt, and she curled into a ball. She couldn’t be sure if the emotions came from her own situation, or her memories of Vivianne’s life. It didn’t really matter. The feelings were the same, Bri just felt them doubly strong.
Vivianne had risked everything for love. But not the mirror. Never the mirror. She’d protected the Legacy above all else. Even so, it had demanded a blood price. Blood Lucas had spilled without qualms. Lives Vivianne had sacrificed. Bri shuddered with the memory of his harsh face. So much blood…
Vivianne had known what she was up against. She’d been prepared, trained, seasoned, and in the end she still lost it all. Bri seemed doomed to echo the same mistakes, and make a host of new ones.
Her father had warned her, and she’d failed to keep the mirror a secret. Soon enough, the Council would know, and his prediction would come true. Facing the demon suddenly seemed like the lesser evil. She would rather dive headlong into the abyss and be tortured by the knowledge of her failure for an eternity than be forced to forget everything about this place, these people, and herself. Ironic how the very things she’d been hiding from most of her life were now the most necessary part of her.
Kean. Astrid. Her family. Her Legacy.
Without them, she would be cursed to walk like a living ghost, trapped on some distant shore, never knowing the source of the heartache inside her hollow shell. If she lived at all. Even if she couldn’t remember why, the demon would probably still kill her. Or…what if he possessed her? Geri said they found weaknesses in your spirit. Hers was in shambles.
Then again, maybe Anika had seen that to know of the mirror was to sign your own death certificate. Maybe she would keep it secret. She was an Oracle, after all — secrets were her stock and trade. Perhaps her sense of self-preservation ran deeper than her sense of duty. If she kept the mirror secret, then the only reason the Council had to intervene was the demon.
She couldn’t give up all hope. If she could get to Astrid and Kean, make her final stand against the demon when he came — and she had no doubt he would come — then maybe she could break the cycle. Stop the vision in its tracks.
The future is always changing. If that was true, Fate didn’t matter. If altering it came at a cost, whatever it was, she would pay it.
She rolled over and sat up, wiping her cheeks. It was barely a whisper of a chance, but still better than none.
Her prison chamber, filled with books and priceless antiques, could have been any of dozens of identical rooms in the Arcanum. Hundreds, even. The Council wouldn’t leave her unguarded, but she crossed the marble floor to the beveled wood doors and jiggled the brass handle.
Locked. Probably warded, too.
She inspected the room, picking up and discarding objects to aid her escape. She snatched up the fire-poker and tried to jimmy the door handle with it, even tried to hack through the door. She made a few dents, but no real progress. No one came to stop her. She screamed her throat ragged as she hacked and hacked, but finally stumbled back, panting with exertion. The iron clanged to the floor.
She couldn’t stop shaking. She wasn’t cold anymore, but completely sapped. Yet she couldn’t sit still. She paced around the leather wingchairs before the fireplace. Was this the same room where she’d turned her back on her father a few days ago? It felt like a lifetime had passed. Several lifetimes. Before she’d known about the mirror, or the demon. Before she’d seen how the people she loved in this world were going to die, or realized how powerless she was to stop it.
Her hands vibrated so hard they cramped up.
There has to be some way…
Something thumped against the wall to her left and Bri froze. Even the shaking stopped. One of the polished wood panels between two towering bookshelves sank in and slid to the side. She held her breath.
Lucas Moncrieffe emerged from behind the partition.
She took a rigid step back, though every nerve in her body screamed for her to go the opposite direction. A sob of relief at seeing him bubbled into her throat, but she held it back and bit her lip until she tasted blood.
He stayed exactly where he was, blocking out the deeper shadows in the small passage, tracking her reaction with those piercing grey eyes. The aura of ease and good-humor he’d charmed her with upon their first meeting had fallen away. He looked as though he’d aged a decade in the days since. The lines and hollows of his face were etched and worn by time and worry. Tiny flames burned in his pupils. Or was that a trick of her memory?
At least there were no claws or fangs.
He seemed to be lost too, then blinked and scanned the room, his nostrils flaring.
She examined his profile, squinting to place together all the glimpses she’d had of him in her visions, to somehow match them to the jumble of emotions his presence stirred. He caught her gaze, and that small contact lashed them together. She couldn’t look away, even if she wanted to. It was so odd. Overpowering. Wrong.
He was a stranger. An immortal being. A killer. And he was coming closer, with slow, intent movements.
“Lucas.” She managed to sound calm, though her tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of her mouth.
He halted his advance and stared at her face, unblinking.
She studied him right back. He had changed some in however many centuries, both inside and out. But then she remembered that she was in a whole new body. They both had mental adjustments to make. She found herself instinctually reaching out with her powers to get a feel for him. He wasn’t the cold blank spot of a Hohlwen, but just as unreachable as the best-shielded Zyne. Though, at the moment, his feelings were plain on his face: wonder, sadness, excitement. Restraint.
He swallowed thickly and rested his large hand on the back of the nearest chair. “How much do you remember?”
His already stern brow forged an ominous crease down the center. No hellos. No pleasantries. He picked up their conversation from before as if it had been sitting on a shelf, waiting. The timing could not have been worse.
All Bri wanted was to get out of there — powers and memory intact — and put the brakes on the disaster she might have unwittingly set into motion. But a voice inside told her Lucas would not be dissuaded from his purpose, whatever that was.
And he might be your ticket out of here. Life had to be pretty dire if her best option was escaping with a half-demon lover from a past life, who could slice people in half as quick as she could blink. She didn’t want to remember any more…
Bri let out a deep breath and eased into the chair farthest from him. She made a point not to look at him fully. She couldn’t risk losing her head, and she couldn’t help the urge to drink in the vision of him in the flesh, reassure herself he was real. But she didn’t trust the voice inside compelling her to leap into Lucas’s arms. Frowning, she said, “I remember some.”
“You understand who I am to you?” His tone dangled somewhere between caution and hope.
“Would you like to sit down?” She clasped her hands together in her lap to keep them from trembling.
He eased silently into the chair on her left.
“Before tonight, I knew who you were. I recalled a few things about Vivianne’s life. I had dreamed about her death.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his posture stiffen. “Re-lived it, you mean.”
The way he said that made her look up in surprise. He hadn’t asked it as a question, but simply corrected her. With a faint smile playing at one corner of his mouth.
She gaped at him, momentarily off her guard. “Some of my visions have been very life-like.”
Lucas narrowed his eyes. Light and shadow dueled in their gray depths. It was so mesmerizing. “What you’re experiencing is more than mere visions or dreams.” He sounded unnervingly sure of himself.
“How would you know?”
“I’ve dedicated a good part of the last four centuries to studying the ways of Zyne souls.”
Her indignation flamed into embarrassment, hot and heavy in her cheeks. “Oh.”
Four hundred years…?
“You must remember your feelings for me. I know you can sense the bond we share. That has not changed at all.” He scooted to the edge of his chair and leaned forward, bringing his overpowering frame that much closer to her personal space. That tingling, like a live wire tangled around every nerve in her body, surged in response to his closeness.
Bri jumped up and started her circuit through the room again, walking a wide circle around his chair. She spun on her heel. “Can you get me out of here?”
“Why?” he asked, as if it were a perfectly reasonable response.
“Didn’t you hear why I’m here? There’s a Soul Eater on a rampage for me.”
He sat up straighter. “Then you are in the safest place you can be.”
“You don’t understand. He’s coming for me, but first he’s going to kill everyone I love. I’ve seen it. Please…I have to save them.” She let her anguish sink into her voice until it broke.
Lucas’s brow creased again. “If your friends are here, I’m sure they are safe too. No demon could penetrate our defenses without the Synod knowing. Have you not seen their eyes everywhere?”
Rain of Ash: Skydancer Book 1 (The Zyne Legacy) Page 26
