by Sarra Cannon
After making a quick circuit of his room, running her hands under his mattress and below every surface, sliding them over his walls, she returned to his side.
“Vivie’s going to lead us out of the city,” Cianne said, helping him pack spare clothing.
“Do you trust her?” he asked, pausing to fix an intense gaze on her.
“I don’t trust anyone other than you,” she said, which, while gratifying, did nothing to reassure him of the wisdom of placing their trust in Vivie to get them out safely. “However, I mistrust her less than I do the rest of the House.”
Nodding, he decided to be satisfied with that, for the time being. They would be able to reassess later—he hoped.
“It does seem like too elaborate a scheme to capture us,” he said, wondering if he believed the words.
Putting her hand over his, Cianne paused long enough to give him a steadying look. She squeezed his hand. “Me disappearing poses more problems for the House than it does solutions, which means this isn’t an ideal way of ridding themselves of me, especially since the whispers about Toran’s death haven’t completely died down yet. If they really wanted to silence me for good, it would have made more sense for them to send me along with Lach on his voyage. They’re good at making people disappear at sea, after all.”
Giving her a quick kiss, he tried to pull the bitterness from her lips and into his own body, wishing he could do more for her. He would do more for her, he vowed. He would prove to her that not everyone in her life was destined to fail her. She leaned into him for the briefest of instants before they resumed packing.
Something hit his sitting room window, making them both freeze. Dropping to the floor, Cianne motioned to him to do the same, and he complied. She pushed the bag toward him, gesturing, and he understood that she wanted him to continue packing while she went to investigate. He wanted to protest, but he gave her a curt nod and, crouching so low he was all but crawling, made his way into his office, where he began going through his papers, grabbing the notes relevant to the conspiracy.
In anticipation of their spying mission, he had stowed Toran Stowley’s ledger in a new, safer location. They wouldn’t have time to get to it. It would take a long time for the House to track it down, but he had a feeling that with Burl’s help they would find it at some point. He would have to disclose its location to Vivie and hope that Cianne was right about her. His natural inclination was to trust the chief, and, by extension, Vivie, but he wasn’t willing to leave much to inclination at the moment.
He heard no sound from the sitting room, which didn’t make him feel better. On the one hand, the absence of the sounds of a struggle was reassuring, but on the other he couldn’t suppress the worry that someone may have gotten the drop on Cianne. The thought was enough to steal all breath and warmth from his body, and he just barely prevented himself from staggering into his desk.
“I’m here,” she whispered, dispelling his chaotic thoughts. “Vivie’s with me.”
“You have two more minutes, then we go. Anything you can’t grab now you’ll have to leave behind,” Vivie said.
“What about—” he began to ask, gesturing at the room, but she cut him off.
“The chief will take care of it. I’ve sent a runner to her with a message.”
Scribbling a note, he thrust it at Vivie. “You’ll find Toran Stowley’s missing ledger at this location.”
She nodded and tucked the note away.
A million questions sprang to Kila’s mind, but they didn’t have time for any of them. He knew Cianne was in knots at the prospect of meeting her mother, and he would have liked to do his best to smooth the experience for her, but he was going to have plenty to say to Annalith as well.
Stilling himself, he cast a glance over to Cianne and she nodded. Adopting a defensive stance at his back, she protected him while he centered himself with a lightning-quick bit of meditation. He pushed his fears aside, honing his focus, and examined his office with careful, Enforcer eyes. Picking up a few scraps of parchment that had fluttered to the floor, he pinned them to the walls. He rearranged some strings, removed others, taking care to erase all traces of his investigation of the House. He had no intention of making any of this easy for them.
He also seized the opportunity to leave a coded message for Flim. No one else would be able to interpret it, of that he was confident. Burl might be able to put together a few pieces of it, but it wouldn’t make any sense to her. In order to work it out, she would have to have shared the close relationship with Kila that Flim had once shared, back when they were partners. He still wasn’t certain if he trusted either Flim or Vivie, but trying to account for all possibilities struck him as their best bet.
“I’m ready,” he said, grabbing his pack.
“I give you this signal, Cianne, you get yourself up on the nearest roof, but stay as close to us as you can. Kila, you and I will start having a loud, nasty argument,” Vivie said. She folded down her thumb and flashed four fingers at them twice, in rapid succession. “Hopefully that will be enough of a diversion if we run into any trouble. If not, I’ll create a distraction and you two will scatter.”
Cianne’s body was coiled tightly, and she jerked her head in a nod. Flicking a glance at him, they shared a wordless agreement: neither would leave the other behind.
“From this point on, don’t talk unless I tell you to. Stay close to me and focus; you’ll need to be able to retrace our route if something does happen and I have to split from you,” Vivie continued. Kila and Cianne nodded their agreement.
Leading them through the back door, Vivie stole through the garden, making her body as small as possible. When they reached the wall she nodded at Cianne, who vaulted up to the top of it with an ease that made Kila embarrassed of his own physical abilities. Spreading herself flat on her belly, Cianne extended a hand, and Kila boosted Vivie up. Once Vivie was on top of the wall, Kila climbed, the two women grabbing onto his coat, hauling him up to the top.
They ran through his neighbor’s garden at a crouch, slipping out through a gate that wasn’t intended for public use, judging by the shattered, rusty lock hanging from it. Plunging down a black alleyway, they kept their backs to the wall, deliberately placing each foot as they slid along. They startled a cat, which hissed at them before darting away with an indignant cry so loud it rent the still air. They made statues of themselves, and a drop of sweat trickled along Kila’s temple as he tried to ignore the first fingers of gray light that signaled dawn’s imminent arrival.
No one came to investigate the sound, and Vivie gestured them forward. Kila was dreading going out into the street, where they would be exposed, but Vivie dropped to a knee and tugged at a sewer grate, which gave with a low, rasping groan of metal against stone. Cianne plunged down first without hesitating, and Kila followed suit. He wondered if she had ever made her way through the city via sewer before, and he couldn’t help but hope that she had. He did not like the idea of being trapped down there.
Taking advantage of the brief second before Vivie joined them, Cianne grabbed his arm and yanked him to her. “I know where we are,” she said into his ear, setting his mind at ease.
Of course. The city was laid out rather well, particularly in comparison with other cities in the realm. A fairly straightforward grid of streets cut regular swathes through Cearova, which would make the sewers easy enough for Cianne to navigate, given the mental map of the city she had long since established in her head.
Indeed, as they walked, trying to ignore the squelching beneath their feet, as well as the muffled squeaks of rats, Kila noticed that Cianne was paying close attention to their heading, mentally ticking off every turn they made. They were still far from safety, but it did reassure him to know that they could ditch Vivie should it become necessary.
“This is as far as I go,” she announced abruptly. “I must get back to the manor before anyone notices my absence. Continue north. Keep walking, and you’ll eventually find yourself—”
Vivie examined her with shrewd eyes. “The old map your father thought he burned a few years ago?”
“The same one you memorized, I imagine.”
“They never did give you enough credit, your father and the Elders,” Vivie said, shaking her head with an awed expression of approval.
“Where do we go from there?” Kila asked.
“Someone will be waiting for you outside. He’ll take you to a cart, drive you out to the forest. You’ll have to lie under sacks and pretend to be cargo, I’m afraid, but it’ll ensure no one spots you on your way out. I don’t know where you’ll go from that point; he’ll have instructions for you. Give him this.” She gave Cianne a small token, which Cianne palmed. “Remember what I told you about your mother.”
“I will,” Cianne said. The two women nodded at one another, then Vivie saluted Kila and hurried off.
“Are we going to follow that plan?” he asked.
“For now,” Cianne said. She handed him the token Vivie had given her. He didn’t have enough light to make out the details, but he could see a rough outline, and running his thumb over it confirmed his suspicion.
“It’s a ship, like the one on your mother’s pendant.”
“Yes.”
He returned the token to her and she slipped it into one of the pockets on her tight breeches.
“Do you think your mother is the uniting force behind all this?”
She shook her head. “Do you?”
“No. I have little to go on at this point, but everything is too organized, too well-run and well-concealed to have sprung up recently. My guess is that a resistance had formed long before your mother disappeared, and they felt she would be an excellent asset.”
“That makes sense.”
“What you said earlier, about not trusting anyone else, Cianne, I… I don’t know how to say this,” he said, frustrated with himself for fumbling the words.
“You don’t need to say anything,” she said softly, laying a hand on his arm. “I meant what I said. I don’t trust anyone other than you, and I don’t intend for that to change any time in the foreseeable future. Vivie claims that my mother had her reasons for leaving me behind, but I’ll draw my own conclusions once I’ve had a chance to speak with her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I know I can count on you, and that’s all I need to know.”
It wasn’t exactly the most romantic spot in the realm, but that didn’t stop him from running a thumb over her cheekbone. He gave her a warm kiss, sheltering her in his arms, and she lingered there for a moment.
“Into the breach?” she asked at last, pulling away just far enough to tilt her head back and look up into his face.
“As long as I’m going in with you,” he said.
Hand-in-hand, they forged a path through the sewer, heading for Cianne’s mother.
The End
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Nicole has progressed from scribbling in notebooks to banging on keyboards, but she’s never managed to stop daydreaming at inappropriate moments. Author of the popular Fairytale Collection series, as well as the YA dystopian Contributor trilogy, and several contemporary women’s fiction novels, she lives in Michigan with her family, where she’s hard at work on the next book in the Astoran Asunder series.
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Escaping Forever (Immortal Chronicles #1)
By Diana St. Gabriel
Heat rating: Sensual
Paranormal Romance
What happens when your first love is both fated and forbidden?
One hundred and fifty years ago, Matthew fell in love with the wrong girl. An Immortal Guardian assigned to protect his small southern town, and one young woman in particular, he was given one rule: stay away from her. As if it’s possible to help who we fall in love with. As punishment for his weakness, he was cursed to a life of solitude. His only escape is death, which can only be delivered by the soul who marked him so deeply, all those years ago… if he can find her. A soul who remembers nothing of the love they shared and lost.
For Hallie, loneliness isn’t a condition or a curse—it’s a survival skill. Now in college after years of struggle and abandonment, her world tilts on its axis again: a freak ice storm sends her van hurtling into a tree—and Hallie into the arms of a tall stranger whose embrace feels hauntingly familiar…
With a vengeful Guardian on their tail, she can’t fall for him. But in this coming of age tale that blends paranormal romance, historical mystery, and one whirlwind road trip, Hallie will have to come to terms with her past, Matthew’s secret, and the fact that some lives are like true love… eternal.
Chapter 1
Matthew heard the screams from the road and woke with a start. His living room was pitch dark. He'd fallen asleep again with an old photo album on his chest, and it slid to the floor as he rolled off the couch, fumbling for his shoes, his heart pounding. He seized his cell phone from the end table, dialed 911 as he tugged on his boots, and told the operator his address – that he didn’t know what had happened, that the curve of the road by his house was dangerous, that they should come quickly.
His yard was a steep hill and he panted as he raced toward the screams, towards the mangled pink VW bus he saw silhouetted on the road, wrapped around the tree, one of its doors hanging off the hinges.
There were two girls, one lying in the road, the other kneeling beside her. He neared, his shoes crunching and slipping in the ice—freakish, for this time of year. It had been an unseasonably cold spring in Abingford. He crouched next to them and tried to keep his voice calm, though the sight of them made his heart stop.
The girl lying on the ground was shuddering, her chest impaled by a tree branch. Her eyes were wide but vacant as she stared up at her friend, who had stopped screaming and was instead crying softly, whispering something under her breath. Neither of them noticed Matthew. He shifted and touched the kneeling girl’s elbow gently.
“I called 911. The police and paramedics are on their way.”
She didn’t seem to hear him. “It's my fault,” she told him desperately. “All my fault. She's cold. It’s too cold out here. She gets cold really easily.”
Matthew shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over the dying girl’s curled, crumpled body. “There,” he murmured. “She’s going to be all right. Everything’s going to be all right.”
He’d always been calm in these situations. In scenes of terror, fear, and destruction, he always became laser-focused, efficient, quick-thinking. And this time was no different - until the moment the crying girl looked up at him.
He'd never seen her before, but the soul peering out from her swollen brown eyes was undeniably hers. Emmaline's. His heart seized in his chest and he gasped, gutted by the sight of her. His ears rang as though someone had shot a gun beside his ear. At last, he’d found her.
Or she’d found him. He didn’t know which. All he could do in that moment was feel the urgent longing, the ache inside him, the unbearable restlessness that her proximity stirred in his soul, and the overwhelming need to protect her, to shelter her.
“You’re bleeding,” he said gently, his hand shaking as he lifted his sleeve to wipe the blood from her temple. “Sit down over here… you might have a concussion.” He felt the need to keep talking, as if somehow it would make her recognize him. “Don’t worry. The paramedics will be here soon.”
“I don’t know what happened,” she kept saying, her voice pitchy and trembling. “I don’t understand. I was driving slowly and carefully but then—the bus—I couldn’t control it—“
“It’s a hard curve, and it sneaks up on
you. It was the ice. It’s not your fault.”
“We were arguing, and I—” She broke off as something seemed to hit her, and her breathing grew rapid.
He touched her forearm. “Tell me your name.”
“What?”
He needed to hear it. “Your name, angel.”
“Ha-Hallie.”
“Come here, Hallie. Let’s get off the road.” He eased her from the road into the grass, then off of her knees, which were wet. The ice was soaking through his jeans, too, but it didn’t matter. He looked at her and tried to keep his voice low and soothing.
“This was an accident, Hallie. It could have happened to anyone—it’s not your fault. And—look at me, Hallie. Look at me.”
He gathered both of her hands in one of his own, then reached out to rub a tear from her cheek with the other.
“You will get through this,” he said. “I promise that you will get through this.”
Her breath hitched as her face crumpled and the frantic energy left her small, soft frame. She collapsed against him, and he felt the soft cry rise from her chest before he heard it. In the distance, sirens blared. He gathered his arms around her, his heart bounding, his soul singing with joy at having found its partner, yet aching with sadness at her pain.
She shivered in his arms, and he reached back and pulled his jacket off of the unconscious girl. Hallie needed it more. He wrapped it around her as the ambulance rolled slowly around the dangerous curve.
Before he knew it, paramedics were tugging her away from him, asking him if he was hurt. His body rebelled at the loss of her, and he brushed off the paramedics urgently, scrambling to his feet to find her, to follow her. He saw her in the back of the ambulance, crying over the stretcher that carried her friend while a paramedic tried to strap her onto a backboard.
