Blood Red Ashes (Dying Ashes Book 2)

by Annathesa Nikola Darksbane

  I snorted. “Fair enough.”

  “Freedom,” Jason said quietly, staring alertly into the distance. “It’s what freedom feels like.”

  That wasn’t the kind of answer I’d anticipated, and I didn’t really know how to respond. So I gave it a minute and changed the subject again. “Does it hurt? Changing forms?” I grinned. “I mean, I started out expecting some hot half-man half-wolf action like in the movies, but I didn’t even notice you guys change shape back at the hospital.”

  Rain blushed, and Jason chuckled. “Nah,” the older boy replied. “It’s kinda like you’ve got this other you, always sitting there in the back of your head, just watching and waiting, and you…You just kinda swap with it. It’s just a decision; but you have to really want it. Especially the first time. Then poof! Back and forth, whenever you want.” He glanced at his friend, and Rain nodded his agreement.

  “Trading places,” Rain confirmed. “It’s quite a rush, especially in the beginning.”

  “And then everything’s just a little different,” Jason continued. “We’re still the same us, but our priorities shift, and our instincts change…”

  “Some things become more exciting or interesting, and other things become a little less...important, I guess,” Rain added with a smile, gesturing animatedly. “And our senses get way sharper, and we get way faster…”

  “I noticed that one back at the hospital,” I commented. “I could barely keep up.”

  “Yeah, you’re actually the first thing that has kept up,” Jason said. “Caught me off guard, that’s for damn sure.”

  “I mean, we’re pretty quick when we’re in people form but in coyote form?” Rain’s eyes lit up.

  “It’s the same with our senses and our healing,” Jason said, and I raised an eyebrow. “We heal quick in human form. Like cuts, bruises, even sickness doesn't stick around. But all that gets way quicker when we shift.”

  “That’s cool,” I gave them both an approving grin. “I mean, I’ve never met any Changelings before.”

  “Neither have we,” Rain replied quietly.

  “Okay, my turn. Lemme ask you something, chica muerta.” Jason glanced at me.

  I shrugged. “Go for it.” I expected something about what it was like to be dead, what it was like to turn into bats or mist or some other crazy vampire-related stuff.

  “So are you and Tamara a thing?”

  I tripped over the cracked sidewalk, tearing a chunk free and sending it tumbling along the street ahead of us. “What?” I made a choking sound.

  He scrutinized me. “I’m just sayin’, you two sure do flirt a lot.”

  We do?

  “So, are you together? Are you trying to get together?” Jason laughed. “Cause, chica, if you’ve got your sights set on her, I’m sure as shit not gonna get in your way.”

  “I, um, no? I mean, we don’t really…” I would have blushed if it were still physically possible, followed by a sudden rush of guilt. “Well, she’s a…And I’m already…”

  I was saved from continuing to stumble over my own tongue by Rain, who suddenly elbowed Jason sharply in the ribs.

  “Dude! Ow, manito.”

  “Shhhh,” Rain replied. “I think we’re here.” He pointed, the indicated path proceeding down our street before arching toward the junkyard we’d been trying to go around.

  Ahead of us, the road crumbled into disuse, all other buildings seeming to lean away as we approached the junkyard’s rusted maw. I caught a whiff of blood, death, and decaying metal.

  “Smell’s stronger, that’s for sure,” Jason said, his voice dropping low as we approached. “Like we just stumbled onto several trails that all came together at once.” His body language turned outright wary.

  “It’s...a lot fresher, yeah,” Rain added, suppressing a shiver. “We should see what’s in there… Right?” He squared his shoulders, trying to sound tough, but the bravado was lost on me. I could hear the spikes in both of their heart rates, especially Rain’s.

  I patted them both on the shoulder and stepped in front. “Don’t worry. I got this,” I said hoarsely. “Point the way.”

  My confident front seemed to reassure them both, and they led from behind, pointing and nudging me in the right direction. I kept my senses peeled for any sign of danger, even though they’d probably sense trouble long before I ever would.

  It was easy to breach the corrosion-encrusted gates leading into the massive auto graveyard, maybe too easy. A rusted lock crunched in my hand, and I let it thump dully into the dirt before we cracked the gates enough to slip through them. Once inside the crumbling brick and iron of the junkyard’s outer wall, we paused to assess our surroundings.

  I figured if someone wanted a place for other people to disappear in, this was it.

  An inconsistent trail forward wound between mounds and mountains of rusting scrap and forgotten debris, branching and doubling back this way and that, turning the massive old scrapyard into a decaying, metal maze. Some scrap piles were low and long, little hills of twisting metal. Others were precarious towers that defied expectation and OSHA regulations alike. The dead automobiles made their own terrain; solid walls of crushed cars, watching us with empty eyes. Here and there, once-proud single specimens stood, forgotten amid mid-cannibalization.

  I paused, settling myself. The police could spend a week searching a place like this and still not find all the potential hiding spots. I could already sense the familiar aura of death and decay, both old and new.

  That aura emanated from somewhere deeper in; I could feel it leaking over from Next Door. Rain and Jason could sense it as well, in the same manner any mortal could. I watched as their body language grew wary, and they started casting paranoid glances into the dark, rusting nooks and crannies that surrounded us. Rain jumped repeatedly at the sudden creak of abandoned metal, corpses of machines that made a mockery of movement, occasionally settling and shifting for no discernible reason. The air itself stirred occasionally as well, as if irritated at our invasion. The wind lazily curled away from us, only to wind its way through the junkyard and bring back to us the briefest hint of something putrid, something so foul as to make the two shifters wince at each fresh whiff.

  We started forward, trying to peer past the initial curtains and mountains of junk, with Rain and Jason understandably hesitant to press deeper inward. I was cautious as well; this gods-forsaken place seemed even bigger on the inside than on the outside and getting lost within its rusted metal intestines wouldn’t help anyone—especially once the sun rose.

  I stopped my advance just as the opening threatened to disappear behind us completely, lost to the twisting paths and jumbles of wreckage. It was as if we were trapped in one of Grimm’s fairy tales, and once lost inside this urban, metal thicket, we might never see the exit again. I gathered the two boys close and whispered, “You two should slip out of here. I’ll go on ahead solo.” I figured I could find what we were looking for on my own at this point, if only because it would probably try to tear my face off when it found me.

  The two Changelings didn’t seem to know whether they wanted to argue or not. Finally, Rain bit his lip and shook his head, then Jason followed suit.

  I frowned. “Look, I don’t think you guys know what—”

  Rain suddenly tensed up, grabbing his companion’s arm tightly, a wordless warning. Jason immediately leaned forward, stopping just shy of actually putting his hand over my mouth. “Cállate,” he hissed, “something’s out there,” nodding back the way we’d come. His eyes were wide, and his voice was so low it took me a moment to figure out what he’d said. I didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean much. “Something big and clumsy,” Jason added, tilting his head to listen.

  As soon as they could indicate a direction, I took point, putting myself in front of the boys. I couldn’t hear what the Changelings heard, but I began to hear the echo of at least one heartbeat. The metal graveyard muffled sound strangely, and it was hard to hear over the noise thuddin
g rapidly from my companions’ chests, but this sound implied a living creature and no conjured monstrosity.

  I let the two boys signal how close our stalker was; I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of wind moaning across metal and constant rusty creaking. Alone, it would have been able to ambush me with impunity, but instead, I crept closer, edging the claws free from one hand. The seconds crawled tensely by before Jason suddenly gestured frantically that it was just on the other side of a stack of flattened SUVs. Finally, I heard it too, something scraping against metal only a few feet away.

  I launched myself around the corner without hesitation, claws bared. Something spun and flashed toward my skull; I raised a hand to block it, and something slapped sharply into my open palm with a searing twinge of pain, shooting along my nerves like lightning. I recoiled in shock and leapt back, my assault aborted.

  “Goddamnit, Charles,” I hissed. “I could have killed you!”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Written in the blood of innocents

  “I was going to say the same,” the tall wizard huffed, stepping back, spinning his magician’s staff with surprising adroitness—especially considering one arm was still in a half cast and his head sported a fresh bandage stuck to it.

  “Well, I’m actually serious,” I grumbled, shaking off the lingering flicker of pain from my hand’s contact with his staff. “And you were supposed to stay in bed.” I looked past the wizard and his bulky coat toward Tamara.

  She just shrugged a perfect shoulder. She looked battle ready; she’d traded in her half-mesh shirt and hip-hugger leather pants for a tight leather jacket zipped up to the neck, fingerless combat gloves, and corseted jeans of a thick, dark fabric. “To be honest, Ashes, neither of us really wanted to be left behind.”

  Charles nodded. “I told you I’d be good enough, soon enough,” he said. “But you decided to go ahead and come out here and tackle this thing by yourself—”

  “Hey!” Jason protested.

  “—And fight only God knows what, with Salvatore still out there, and Christ knows what else...” He continued, shaking his head. “Thought even you’d know better than that.”

  My shoulders slumped as I became acutely aware of the full weight of my own idiocy. I’d tried to do the right thing, or what I’d thought was the right thing, but I hadn’t thought it through enough.

  “Hey.” Slipping fluidly around Charles, Tamara put an arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick hug. “Don’t feel bad. Your heart’s in the right place, just,” she smiled, “this is our fight, too.”

  I nodded. “You’re right,” I rasped.

  She grinned, but her bright blue eyes glinted with an undercurrent of anger. “Now where are we? I wanna go kick someone a new asshole.”

  I snorted. “How’d you even find this place?”

  Charles rolled his cinnamon eyes. “I didn’t. I found you.”

  “Oh.” The idiocy continued. “That’s right, my blood vial.”

  He grunted. “Soon, everyone will have one.”

  I shook my head. “As for where we are, your guess is as good as mine. We just walked in. I think it’s pretty clear that this is no normal junkyard though.”

  “You’re right.” Tamara shifted, stepping a little closer to me, her eyes starting to gleam a bit in the dark and dim. “This place feels…”

  “Profane,” interrupted Charles.

  “Foul,” Jason commented.

  “Just wrong,” Rain supplied, shivering.

  “Dangerous?” I added, and Charles nodded approvingly.

  “All of the above, I think.” Tamara turned her face toward the depths of the junkyard, luminously pale skin framing her glittering, liquid sapphire eyes—a not-so-subtle hint that her Moroi nature stirred. “Something happened here. Something awful. I can feel the echoes of strong emotions…Pain. Fear. And something more, something…Inhuman.” To my surprise, she shivered a little. “We should go if we’re going. Standing here talking feels like a bad idea.” She pulled her whip, a coiled length of entwined silver, iron, and steel, from her stylish hip pack.

  “Last chance for anyone to stay behind?” I rasped hopefully. Tamara and the two young shifters shook their heads. Charles rolled his eyes at me. “No takers? Whelp, alrighty then.” I turned and took point once more, leading us into the depths of the scrapyard, past piles of twisted, rusting metal and dead machines, poised and frozen in place like entropy’s attempts at modern art.

  An odd fog rose unbidden from the ground as we pressed on, clinging at our bodies with pleading hands. The lingering, deathly quality to the air steadily empowered me and led me ever onward, making the whole place less of a maze than just an obstacle course. Does anyone even maintain this hellscape? Or frequent it for legitimate business purposes? It doesn't even seem—

  —Safe. With a deafening cry of wrenching metal, the crowning chunk of a towering pile of scrap unseated and came tumbling toward us, several hundred pounds of tangled, corroded chassis falling with a deadly purpose.

  With a unified yelp, both of the shifters dove out of the way, as did the agile Moroi vampire. I could have too, but I didn’t. Charles had just enough time to duck down as I let the mass of metal slam into me. I caught the warped chunk of twisted steel on my arms and chest, gripped it with both hands, and matter-of-factly heaved it off the path and into another scrap pile.

  It crashed into the other junk mound with a brief clamor and clash, and I shrugged. “Methinks they know we’re here,” I commented. I knew Maggie’s poltergeist handiwork when I was hit by it. “Gonna have to do better than that, though.” I grinned. Discreetly, I settled the bone in my cracked forearm back into place, feeling the slow dribble of blood running along my arm from the wound the impact had reopened. Charles gave me a quick nod of thanks as he rose to his feet.

  Jason rose from the dirt, a strange gleam in his eye. “Yeah, someone’s gotta bleed for that, ese.” I frowned, but to my surprise, Rain nodded vigorously.

  Oh well. An odd reaction, but it probably wasn't anything important.

  We kept moving and passed under the shadowed arm of a tall crane, its top visible to me alone in the dim, fog-diluted light. At its base, a pair of dull red lights showing active power gleamed through the ruddy fog like demon’s eyes, unsettling even though I knew what they actually were.

  I rubbed at my arm as it burned, cold and strange, an idle but minor curiosity.

  Despite the seeming lack of need for haste, I was forced to speed up as the two changelings and the wizard both quickened their pace, seeming eager to get this trek over with. None of them seemed too concerned with the fact that something unseen had tried its hand at turning us all into paste.

  It wasn’t the best or last attempt, either.

  We stepped into a long, wide clearing, right in the middle of the forest of endless rusting junk. Immediately, the fog swirled hungrily, closing in ominously around us. We shuffled closer together to avoid it; it stank of death and decay and defied physics.

  I could only watch as the wind picked up, rattling the surrounding piles of debris like an army of marching skeletons. All around us, piles of inert junk suddenly became looming threats as dozens of pieces of metal began to shudder and shake as if having some sort of fit reserved specifically for inanimate objects. Sharp-edged steel suddenly ripped free of its respective resting places, multiple shrieks of metal on metal blending into a single, extended cry as they hung suspended in the air, then encircled us.

  Faster and faster they spun, as more deadly metal was drawn into the vortex. We were caught in the middle of a ghastly blender, set to “puree the intruders.”

  “Stupid ghost,” Charles growled. “I’ve got this.”

  I didn’t know what the magician could see that the rest of us couldn’t, because this looked bad. I mean, I wasn’t too worried, since mere steel typically bounced off my dead skin. But it was really going to suck for everyone else.

  Meanwhile, Charles matched the pace of the wind with
blurring gestures from his one good arm and a continuous, increasingly insistent chant in his native Hopi tongue.

  I knew there wasn’t much I could do, but I tried to step in front of Rain and Jason anyway, noting that they seemed more agitated than afraid. I glanced around; this manifestation had all of the earmarks of action by a tremendously powerful specter, but I couldn’t spot little Maggie’s ragged form anywhere in the chaos to try and grab her.

  Oh well. It had been a good run.

  Without further warning, shards and shafts of steel shot at us in impossibly rapid succession, a collection of tarnished spears seeking our mutual flesh.

  Charles’ chant reached a crescendo between one instant and the next, his staff striking the ground and releasing a torrent of power that surged out like a shockwave. I could feel it roll past just Next Door, striking animate scrap and ghostly wind alike with a ripple of invisible force.

  Inert, sharp-edged trash dropped to the ground all around us in a expansive ring, clattering to the packed dirt. Charles slumped and gasped in the aftermath, taking in a breath as Tamara moved to support him, but he shooed her away. “I’m...fine,” he breathed irritably. “Ghost should be gone—for now. I can’t hurt her from here, only disrupt her and drive her away.” He straightened with obvious effort. “Now let’s go destroy her creator.” His sharp cinnamon eyes glimmered with something dark.

  I lost my place at the front of the group as the Charles and both changelings pushed past me, more eager to move forward than I was. As the gap widened, bit by bit, Tamara stepped comfortably close to me, a luminous, warm figure in a too-cold, uncaring world. I smiled.

  “You notice it, right?” she whispered in my ear. “How they’re acting. It’s not natural.”

  “Hmmm?” I blinked, looking over at the Moroi. “I dunno. I figure they just want to get this over with. No big deal.” I shrugged.

  Tamara leaned away from me again, studying me with a worried frown. I wondered what I’d said.

  “Are you two coming or not?” Charles snapped from up ahead. Without waiting for an answer, he broke into a jog, followed closely by the two boys. At Tamara’s insistence, we followed suit. We hustled our way out of the long, jagged, junk-strewn clearing; we passed the cab of the crane I’d noted earlier, its door open and its chassis rusted, the first object I’d seen in this entire place that looked like it’d seen some use in the last quarter century.