The Opal Blade (The Ashen Touch Trilogy Book 1)

by Kristy Nicolle

  “I’m sure whatever it is wasn’t more important than your daughter’s funeral.” I continue to grill him, and he frowns.

  “Actually, it is. I’ve been trying to locate The Book of The Dead,” he announces, and I frown, confused.

  “What’s that?” I press him to reveal more information, bored of waiting, and he gives a small smug smile at my lack of knowledge.

  “It’s an ancient Egyptian book of dark rituals and spells. The magic originated from Ra, but was carried out most successfully by Moloch. There are rituals inside that can resurrect the dead.” My eyes widen, lips parting slightly as I feel horror begin to bloom in my stomach.

  “Haedes. No. We can’t. Those things, they used to go wrong all the time. I won’t have her as some reanimated corpse puppet!” I exclaim, and he rolls his eyes.

  “And you think I would? Of course not. I simply want to find the book and discover what can be done.” I gape at him, and he pushes down hard on the accelerator as the lights move from ruby, through amber, to emerald, and we begin moving toward Chicago as the outside world becomes a blur yet again. I feel myself pushed back into the seat as we take another turn and hit the I-90 west towards the airport.

  “Look… I…” I begin to protest some more, but Haedes turns to me, taking his eyes off the road for longer than he probably should as traffic begins to merge.

  “You were right. With what you said before. If it was Demi… I would have raised hell. I owe Sephy this. We need to find out if she can be brought back. I need to exhaust all the options before accepting she’s dead.” He tries to plead with his stare, though I can’t actually see his eyes behind his shades, and I wonder if it really can be done.

  Can Sephy really be resurrected?

  Would she want to be?

  I know what I want… but it’s selfish.

  I want her back. I want her to be here with me. I want a second chance at happiness.

  But do I want to risk her coming back messed up for my own pleasure?

  I can’t, can I? I wonder as we continue to gobble miles beneath the tread of the tyres. The engine roars, and Haedes and I fall into silence as the journey continues and the traffic flow moves on without pause. I look at him, at the way in which he’s seemingly in control, more so than I’ve seen him in a long time.

  “What is the likelihood of this going wrong?” I demand and he frowns, pursing his sculpted lips together and exhaling a heavy sigh as he changes into a higher gear. That’s certainly not the expression of an optimistic man.

  “Honestly? I don’t know. I know resurrection has been done successfully in the past, and I’m talking full resurrection, beating heart, aging, the whole works, not just utilising the flame. But it was performed by Gods of Ancient. I don’t know if it can be done now,” he admits, and I frown.

  “And you’re willing to risk some of your lifespan to find out?” I ask him, and he looks sad, his mouth remaining a firm hard line of determination.

  “I’m here, aren’t I? Though, I’ll be keeping my convecting to a minimum, it’s bad for my crow’s feet.” He looks in the rear-view mirror again, examining himself, and I ponder on the predicament I’m in.

  On the one hand, we could bring her back.

  On the other, we could cause some serious issues for her when she’s at peace already.

  “Do you know where she is?” I enquire, and he frowns.

  “That’s the other thing. Hercules has informed me that Zeus is not allowing her to ascend to Titan status. Says she hasn’t earned it.” His voice is bitter, and I watch the tips of his hair turn orange beneath his hat as his grip tightens on the stitched leather of the steering wheel.

  “So… she’s just floating around in The Nether?” I ask him, and he nods.

  “It would certainly appear that way.”

  At this response, my heart goes cold in my chest. Moving on at the thought Sephy is free from pain, from being hunted, is one thing, but The Nether Realm is… strange, or so I’ve heard, and I can’t bear the thought of her floating around in limbo and not having the peace she’d been searching for.

  The rest of the journey passes in silence. We speed down the freeway, finally reaching O’Hare international airport in a record time of under fifteen minutes.

  Driving around the outside of the building to the runway’s private entrance, we finally pull onto the tarmac, making our way through the barriers after flashing my newly acquired identification.

  The plane is ready and waiting on approach, evidently having just been fuelled as the smell of jet fuel moves through the air conditioning vents and into the car. Haedes pulls up just short of the shiny white aeroplane with people scurrying around the wheels, making checks and carrying out other tasks, which I’m sure are important, though I couldn’t tell you what they are. It’s not a branded jet, I’m sure for privacy’s sake, but it’s definitely sleek and stylish as I’ve come to expect from the Sinclairs.

  “Thanks for the ride.” I vocalise my lacklustre appreciation, looking to Haedes for a moment, thoughtful, before pushing the door of the car up and stepping out into the cool air of the afternoon.

  As I stand, looking at the plane then back at the car, I have a terrible thought as wind whips around my form, stealing all the heat from my body.

  What if I could bring her back, and I don’t? Can I live with not knowing? Can I go forward in this life without her, knowing I had the opportunity to hold her again, kiss her again?

  I don’t shut the door of the car as I hover in the moment. I take a few seconds thought before bending down and calling through to Haedes.

  “Are you coming then?” I ask him, and his cobalt eyebrows rise on his forehead beneath the brim of his hat. He nods as he takes off his sunglasses, eyes sparkling beneath in victory, as if this is what he wanted all along.

  Stepping out of the car, his gaze travels to mine across the roof of the low vehicle. I examine him, outlined against the grey backdrop of the cloudy sky overhead as he stands, dressed in a black velvet suit with a red silk shirt underneath and a black cravat to match.

  “Thanks,” he calls, breaking the long silence between us. I shrug.

  “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for her,” I remind him, not wanting him to think all is forgiven. I still think he’s an utter jackass, after all.

  We rush towards the jet, making our way up the stairs and into the plush interior as I duck beneath the white metal of the entranceway. The cabin is padded out in deep mahogany woods and dove grey velvet with large seats. Flutes of champagne next to buckets where more bottles on ice are waiting on a small trolley sit at the back of plane, and I look around the multitude of flat screen televisions, kitchen facilities and sleeping cocoons that are held inside this narrow cylindrical tube.

  I’ve been on a plane before, but it was never like this.

  “This is nice,” I comment, and Haedes nods. I inhale the scent of the spring fresh scent of wood polish and carpet cleaner as I duck and proceed forward.

  “Yes, the Sinclairs have always had great taste,” he replies, though I wonder if he’ll maintain this opinion once he learns that I’ve slept with his daughter.

  I guess, though, I’ll leave that little gem of information for later.

  Haedes and I take seats opposing one another and buckle up for take-off. He looks nervous, and I wonder if this is his first time on a plane, though it seems unlikely given his long lifespan.

  “So where are we heading?” I ask him, and he smiles.

  “First stop, Egypt,” he announces.

  “You’d better go inform the pilot of that then,” I express, and he doesn’t reply, simply pressing a call button on the arm rest of his chair as he takes off his hat and speaking clearly into the microphone.

  “Cairo please,” he requests, a few moments after the captain’s feminine voice comes through the speakers.

  “We’ll be taxiing for take-off shortly. Please ensure you are acquainted with all pre-flight emergency procedures.
You can find the safety booklets in the tray under your seats,” she informs us. Haedes and I look at one another and smirk. If this plane did crash, neither one of us would have any intention of following safety procedures, that’s for sure.

  I sit back, looking out of the window and wondering if I’ll ever hold her again. If she’ll be the way she was. Haedes orders some lobster and whiskey from the single flight attendant dressed in a dove grey suit. She has kind eyes, a sweet smile, but she’s not Sephy. No one will ever be Sephy ever again. Not unless…

  I continue to wonder about our prospects as the engine of the plane starts and Haedes relaxes back into his seat, placing a provided gel mask over his eyes as we begin to taxi down the runway. Neither of us have anything to say nor the desire to speak. I look out the window as the world becomes a blur, and when I look down as we begin to soar, I realise how small mortals really are. How fragile.

  It isn’t until the sun is heading towards the horizon that we reach the full height of our ascent into the air, and I cross my legs, staring out of the window as we float above the clouds, leaving the world below us behind.

  I don’t know what lies ahead, whether it be triumph or devastating defeat. I don’t know where we’ll end up or if anything Haedes has suggested is possible.

  I do know one thing though; this being something that Sephy Sinclair taught me from the moment I met her.

  Fortune favours the brave.

  Epilogue

  PANDORA

  I am sitting, the scrutiny of the Demon Lords burning into my flesh as they stare daggers at me from around the table. It’s been over three weeks since Sephy Sinclair escaped the clutches of the Dark Colosseum, and I’ve been trying to stay out of their way. However, they’ve summoned me here, and I can’t help but wonder if that is not in fact because they fully intend to kill me.

  “I think we can all agree that this has been an utter disaster,” Barbas announces with a gaping feline smile. He’s wearing indigo today, in silk, and it really isn’t his colour, especially because in the red light pouring down from the hole in the roof, it looks sort of neon pink.

  “Yes. I think that is obvious,” I retort, spiteful in tone as my frustration refuses to diminish beneath my usually cool demeanour. The red sky overhead darkens in only seconds as I speak, preparing for another spark shower no doubt.

  Suddenly, as Abraxis opens his mouth to speak next, their gazes move, surprised, to behind where I am sitting.

  I spin in my seat, my eyes resting upon a woman who I never expected to see again, let alone here.

  “Anubis?” I say her name aloud, the glimmering silver of her gown, which is encrusted with emeralds, causing her to stand out like a sore thumb in the crumbling ruins and squalor of this dank place.

  “Yes. That is my name. Was it not you who summoned me?” she asks, and I shake my head, innocent.

  “How did you even get here?” I demand, and she shrugs, the green beads braided into her dark hair clinking against one another with her motion.

  “Chariot of course. Bit of a bumpy ride. It wasn’t you who sent the Gorgonian escort to clear my path across The Ashen Waste?” She interrogates me, and I shake my head again, eyes showing my mystification as I twist back to look over my shoulder at the Demon Lords.

  “What is the meaning of this?” I ask them, and Gorgon leans forward, smiling a knowing smile.

  “I believe Anubis had a rather interesting conversation with Haedes recently, or so my children tell me,” he expresses, and Anubis scowls.

  “No Gorgonians have been inside The Icon. That is ridiculous.” She dismisses the claim immediately, flicking her hand outward as if she’s shooing the insinuation away like a bad odour. Gorgon smirks at her arrogance, and I wonder if he has been sending demons into the city without our knowledge.

  “How?” I ask him, and he smiles.

  “Well, you gave such a wonderful speech about working together, I got some of the Abraxians to pose as guards and let them in.” His explanation makes the corners of my mouth upturn, pleased that at least one of the Lords has taken my advice and done some serious thinking about how to best utilise our forces.

  “That’s really very simplistic. Kind of beautiful, don’t you think?” I ask Anubis, and she folds her arms across her chest, looking warily between us.

  “What do you want, Gorgon?” she barks, clearly not in the mood for small talk or games. Gorgon leans back in his seat, propping his feet up on the stone of the table and placing his arms behind his head in a relaxed pose which reeks of his own special brand of arrogance.

  “I want what every other Demon Lord at this table wants. I want our hunting grounds back. I want the Gods of Ancient to return and rule like they were supposed to. This place belongs to the children of Uranus. Not Gaia.” He licks his bottom lip, his quick forked tongue flicking in and out of the gap between his teeth in a flash.

  “And what does that have to do with me?” I look to Anubis, her eyes flashing a warning as their dark depths, ringed with deep green, shine, though with excitement or threat I cannot tell.

  “Well, I’ll tell you. You know what we need to free the Gods of Ancient, don’t you?” he asks Anubis, and she narrows her eyes.

  “Yes. You need a pure-bred god to conduct the ritual. But you won’t find one in me. I’m merely a Titan. You’ll also have noticed that Zeus has made very sure to have any god or goddess who would even so much as think of undermining his rule killed. I mean, you remember what happened to Prometheus… don’t you Pandora?” She looks to me now, with a warning glance, and I frown. I do remember what happened to him. He was sentenced to die a million times over until Zeus was content with his penance, before his soul, ashes and the flame which he had stolen were separated and stored across three different dimensions. He wasn’t just killed, he was massacred.

  “Yes. I do recall.” I flutter my fingers. Brushing the tale aside as I feel my rage for Zeus growing, the memory bubbling close to the surface.

  “So then, again, I ask, what does this have to do with me?” she demands of Gorgon, who smiles.

  “Haedes’ daughter was murdered, was she not?” he asks, and Anubis gets a sly look.

  “At your hand, I have no doubt.” This time her gaze falls, hot, to me.

  “Actually no; a happy coincidence, but not my doing,” I confess, still irritated that some unknown mortal has achieved what I could not.

  “Regardless, my children tell me Haedes is trying to find that which my Master lost. A little text known as The Book of The Dead.” Gorgon unleashes this information, and the Demon Lords around the table mutter amongst themselves, shifting with interest as they listen in closer.

  “That is correct. Not that he’ll find it. It’s been lost to us for eons. You know that.” Anubis says this like Gorgon is stupid, but I know she underestimates him.

  “If he should find it, by chance, what would you say to trying to bring back Ra?” he asks, and Anubis inhales breath in a sudden gasp. I watch her with interest as she shifts in her heels, eyes narrowing in on each Demon Lord in turn.

  “To what purpose?” she enquires, and Gorgon laughs.

  “I thought that would be obvious – to bring your god and our gods back to power.” He smiles, and Anubis looks thoughtful, if not a little aggravated by the way in which this plan has been brought to her attention.

  “It’s a nice plan. A wonderful plan. But I think you’re overestimating Haedes. He is merely putting off his grief. He will never find that book. I’ve been searching for it for years and have come up empty. I told him where to start looking, but I doubt he’ll find anything where I could not. I am not even entirely sure that it still exists. Then, even if it does, nobody around here has the kind of dark magic required to actually perform those rituals anyway.” She is certain of his failure, and is also making me aware that as ever, the odds are stacked against us. It causes my anxiety to heighten. We are quickly running out of options.

  “Regardless, I assume if you’re inv
ested in the idea, you’ll keep us informed of his progress?” Gorgon asks her, turning his face sideways slightly so the light catches his sharp cheekbones.

  “I may do. If I feel it wise.” Anubis looks between us with a wary glance. I take this opportunity to speak up, smoothing the plum silk of my gown beneath my nervous fingers.

  “I would expect you to think it wise. After all, I might just find myself a little loose tongued. Wouldn’t want Haedes knowing it was you who handed over his daughter on a silver platter now, would we?” Her eyes narrow at me as she takes a few steps back from the table. I get to my feet.

  “It wouldn’t be wise to threaten a Titan, Pandora,” Anubis warns me, turning on her heel and moving to exit the building.

  As she goes, I place a hand in my pocket, wrapping my fingers around the edges of my power. The box. It warms at my touch, and I smile as I hear Anubis’ steps ring out into the chasmic hallway that leads to the exit.

  Nothing is certain, but if everything aligns in our favour, then we may just have a chance to claim back Mortaria yet. Claim it back and bring forth a force so powerful that even Zeus will quake at their presence.

  “Bring it on,” I call after Anubis, voice echoing out in a loud staccato before turning back to the meeting chamber and the Demon Lords, hopeful, as ever, that fate will be kind.

  END OF BOOK 1

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  It feels like only yesterday that Sephy Sinlair, Haedes and Mortaria first popped into my head and now the first third of The Ashen Touch trilogy is done! I can hardly believe how fast it all seems to be going, and the next novel in this trilogy marks the half way point in the Queens of Fantasy Saga which is INSANE! A huge thanks, as always, to my wonderful partner Mark who has suffered through my doubt yet again as well as agreeing to put his mugshot forward for my Xion promos. I think that’s fair, seeing as Xion is basically you! Thanks to my Nanny, Mum, Dad… that barista at starbucks who spells my name right on my coffee cup, I couldn’t have done it without you either! A huge shout out to my fabulous editor Jaimie Cordall, who in spite of moving and finding out she was pregnant, all in the space of about five minutes I might add, still found time to trek through this monster! I also want to say an enormous thank you to Winters Rage, my fantastic Alpha Reader who constantly puts my neurosis to bed, and my fabulous beta readers, Emma Harrison, Dawn Yacovetta and ESPECIALLY Leeah Minick who has gone above and beyond in the amount of time she has spent letting me bounce ideas off of her and searching for plot bunnies! I have such a phenomenal team behind me, and honestly not a single one of my books would be out there floating around if it weren’t for them! It takes a village to raise a child, but also to help put a book out, so thank you to my village, it wouldn’t be half as much fun without you!