Contents
Title
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
Thank you for reading
Copyright
Acknowledgments
About the Author
A
Dream
Of
Ashes
Chronicles of the Modern Mystics
By
Orlando A. Sanchez
ONE
BEING A CANDLE is not easy. In order to give light one must first burn.-Rumi
She was dead when I found her. The body, a broken mess, had bled out by the time I arrived. I crouched down in the dark alleyway to examine the victim that lay on the ground, discarded like trash. This was someone’s daughter, her life stolen. The anger rose and my power leaked out, flaming my hands. I extinguished the flames with a thought and examined the body.
She was young, no older than twenty years old, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Several wounds covered her body. Someone had worked her over with a knife, and they had been sloppy. There were no defensive wounds, which meant they surprised her or held her down. The amount of blood around the body told me they had taken their time ending her. The metallic smell wafted up and slammed into my lungs, forcing me to hold my breath for a moment.
“Sometimes I hate this godforsaken city,” I whispered, as I took off my gloves and let my hands hover over the body.
She’s a latent, goddammit. Never stood a chance.
I put on the gloves and looked down at the destroyed promise of life. That’s when I saw it. The placement, the alley. It was all wrong. The girl wasn’t just a victim…she was bait. I heard the footsteps, the heavy breathing, and the pair of heartbeats as they approached. Two men, one on either end of the alleyway boxing me in. I opened my coat. It gave me access to my shoulder holsters. With my back to the wall, I waited.
Shit. I’m getting careless. Should have seen this trap.
“Hello, baby—you lost?” said the one on my right.
He was easily twice my size and filled his end of the alley, but he wasn’t the immediate threat. It was the one on the left that pulled the knife. His pinched face and slicked-backed hair gave him the appearance of an oversized rodent.
“I think she’s lost, Brick,” said rodent-face. “Maybe we should send her home?”
A rumble came from the large man, the sound passing as laughter as he closed his fists. Neither of them were mystics, so I ignored the guns and grabbed the truncheons, my sticks, attached to my thighs. I couldn’t shoot them even though I wanted to...badly. I let my arms hang by my sides and gripped the truncheons loosely. I let some of my ability flow and they gave off a faint violet glow.
“She thinks she’s hard, Mouse,” said Brick as he reached behind his back and pulled out a ka-bar. Its blade gleamed in the night and I upgraded the mountain to primary threat. ““We’ll make it fast, baby. You won’t feel a thing, I promise.”
I pushed off the wall and leaped at the giant, who was closer. He lunged at me and I spun around the thrust, brought a stick down on his hand, and shattered all the bones in it. He howled in pain as he dropped the knife. Another stick to the temple saw him crumple to the ground unconscious.
“You bitch—you hurt Brick!” hissed rodent-face from behind me. He was fast. Faster than I expected, as his blade cut my right leg in a slash. I backpedaled and nearly tripped over the mountainous form of Brick. He closed the distance and slashed again, narrowly missing my midsection and shredding my coat. He gave me a sick smile when he saw the damage he had caused. In that smile, I knew. He had killed the young girl and enjoyed it. I wanted to roast him on the spot, but mystic law prevented us from using our abilities on citizens—those without mystical power. Instead, I gave him pain.
“I’m going to make it fast,” I whispered. “You’’re going to feel it all, I promise.”
He jumped at me blade-first. I intercepted the strike and slammed a stick into his elbow, rendering it useless. His howl echoed through the alley. I slammed the other stick across his mouth, ensuring he would need dentures for the rest of his life as his teeth escaped his mouth. It shut him up for the moment. He switched knife hands and slashed at my face. Reflexively, I flinched back, causing him to miss. It saved my life.
Damn, he’s fast.
An inch closer and it would be me on the ground with a severed carotid, my blood decorating the walls of the alley.
I’m not dying tonight. Not here.
I kicked forward and the sick crunch of bone snapping filled the night as I connected with his knee. He dropped the knife and screamed. He writhed on the ground, grabbing his leg as I punted the side of his head. The kick ended the screaming as he dropped to his side, unconscious. Steel-toed Docs for the win.
The earpiece in my ear chirped. I waved my finger near it, connecting the call.
“What?” I grunted as I bandaged my leg using strips of my now tattered coat. I diverted some of my power to the wound to help accelerate the healing.
“We have a situation,” said the melodious voice. “You need to get on site.”
It was Moira—the South Enclave Director and head of the MID.
“I’m working and I need a unit on my location,” I said.
“Ava, you are the closest mystic to the location and I want you there,” she said. “The PTF is already on the scene.”
“Moira, send someone else,” I said. “I’m working a case here.””
“There is no one else and you were working a case there,” she said. “I’’m sending over Carlo to secure your scene.”
“Carlo?” I said. “He’s barely out of training. He doesn’’t know what he’s doing.”
“You are now working the case on Fourteenth and Eighth,” she said. “That’’s not a request. The unit is on its way. You said something about a victim?”
“Latent mystic,” I said. “If she had known about her ability she would still be breathing.”
“Are the suspects alive?”
“For now.”
“Make sure they remain that way,” she said. “Restrain them and head to the scene. Keep your power in check, Ava. Do we understand each other?””
“Understood,” I said. “Don’t vaporize the neighborhood or the PTF. I’ll do my best.”
“Do better than that,” she said and sighed. “For once, try to be a professional. You are representing the Enclave.”
I ended the call, zip-tied the two men at the wrist and ankles, using three ties for the giant. I lingered a moment over the dead girl’s body and whispered a silent prayer.
I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time.
I limped to the end of the alley, jumped into the Rhino, my ‘62 Chevy Camaro, and pulled away as the wails of the unit screamed in the distance.
TWO
WHEN OUR POWERS manifest we also get a heightened sense. It hits you aro
und puberty and if you don’t have a teacher or mentor, someone who has walked this path before you—it can drive you insane. For me it was hearing. It took a few years to get it under control. I gave a silent thanks to my grandfather every day. He trained me to control my heightened hearing. Now I could hear a heartbeat across the street if I focused enough. Mostly I just shut out all the white noise, though.
I turned the Rhino on Seventh Avenue and headed down to the scene. Fourteenth Street and Eighth Avenue was a flurry of activity. Para vans blocked traffic in both directions like a pod of beached whales as the uniformed officers cordoned the area off.
A Shadow, the Enclave variant of Lamborghini’s Aventador, had just pulled up to the edge of the cordon. I saw two men exit the vehicle.
What are Enforcers doing here?
I parked up the block, out of direct line of sight, and focused on the Shadow.
It wasn’t Enforcers. It was Franco and Lewis—PTF. It was serious if they were here. I could tell Lewis was in his usual good mood as I eavesdropped.
“They get me out of bed at this ungodly hour—for a body?” Lewis said. He was the shorter of the two. “This couldn’t wait until morning? What in God’s name is that?”
Lewis was short and stocky, built like a plug. His salt-and-pepper hair, cut close, made him appear like the military man he once was. The stubble on his face meant he had been awake for a few hours. He stomped against the cold as the two men approached the cordon.
“That…was a mystic,” Franco said matter-of-factly.
“Not much left,” Lewis said. “Looks like some kind of fireball fell on this guy.”
I was closer now and managed to get a closer look around one of the Para vans. Lewis was right. What was left of the body rested in the center of an impact crater.
Franco wore his Para uniform: dark blue with silver striping and covering this, a thick coat he pulled tight to his body. It bore the silver fist on the left side and denoted his rank as vice-commander. He walked under the cordon and approached the crater of devastation in the center of the street with Lewis in tow. He crouched near the body that lay in the center, and pinched some of the ashes between his gloved fingers. He pulled out a notebook and began writing.
“You know Canus is either on his way or expecting the call,” Franco said. “Which of those two scenarios do you prefer?””
“Fine…Shit,” Lewis said. “We’’ll make the call. I just don’t understand the commotion. One less mystic on the streets is my idea of a good day.”
“Lewis,” Franco said, “that is why you will never be promoted above sergeant. I don’t know how you got promoted at all.”
“My charm,” Lewis said as he lit a cigarette. “MID send anyone? Freezing my ass off out here.”
“This far down is South Enclave,” Franco said. “I’m sure they’’ll send someone. Moira is efficient about these things.”
“Good,” Lewis said. “As long as it isn’t that……Shit.”
I stepped around the Para van and Lewis saw me approach the cordon.
I must have made quite the impression as I limped over. My coat was shredded in two sections along the front and I wore a bandage on the one leg as I ducked under the cordon. I wasn’t stopped. They let me through once the Paras saw the inverted silver sword, the emblem of the Mystic Investigative Division, resting on my left side. My Doc Martens crunched on the ice as I approached them. The wind whipped my short hair around. I let it partially cover my eyes as I drew up close to the body and examined the scene closely. Ash fell lightly to the ground, a black snow carried by the wind. It reminded me of the first time my power had burned someone alive.
Lewis cursed under his breath. I smiled. He didn’t like me, and I returned the sentiment.
“Morning, Ava,” Franco said and gave me a slight nod. “Did you have some trouble or is this the new fashion?”
I returned the nod and looked down at the tattered front of my coat.
“Conversation that got out of hand,” I said.
“Looks like a violent one,” Franco said, looking at the bandage on my leg.
“A shame they didn’t finish the job,” Lewis said. “Maybe next time.””
“Since when does the Paranormal Task Force get a Shadow?” I said, ignoring Lewis. “Those are Enforcer-class vehicles.””
“Since Canus requested one, flamer,” Lewis said. “Better than the jalopy you get around in.”
I turned as if seeing him for the first time, narrowed my eyes, and gave him my best fake smile.
“Lewis, my Rhino would eat your Shadow for a light snack.”
Lewis snorted in derision.
“In your dreams.”
“You wouldn’t want to visit my dreams, Lewis,” I said with an edge, and then turned to Franco. “Do we know who this mystic was?”
“No ID,” Franco said. “Will try to run prints, if we can get any. I will have forensics get dentals.”
On the ground before us, the charred remains of the mystic stared lifelessly at the approaching dawn. He rested face-up in the middle of the street, with his arms outstretched, as if waiting for a hug. The lower half of the body was gone and the wound cauterized. Only ash remained. The size of the crater meant that whoever had done this possessed an enormous amount of power.
The nature of the burn and the fact that the mystic was half ash told me the death was quick. Only a Fire Mystic could finish someone like this. Whoever it was, they had to be at least first degree, if not higher. I checked the back of the victim’s hands—only one symbol, so no higher than a primary.
The symbol was a triquetra, like mine, but stylistically distinct. Where mine had three points, his was comprised of three interlocked circles. I didn’t recognize it. Every symbol was unique, denoting lineage, but no one outside the Enclave was given that information.
“Did the cameras get anything?” I asked.
Franco shook his head. “Someone is sending us a message with this killing,” he said. “There’s a symbol over here drawn in the ashes.”
Franco pointed over to the side, and my breath seized. I recognized this one. It was present all throughout my youth in Japan. It was my grandfather’s mon, or crest. It was the same symbol I had on the backs of both my hands—a Musubi Mitsugashiwa.
“You recognize it?” Franco asked.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice.
Why would this symbol be here?
“It’s different from the one on his hand,” Franco said.
I cleared my throat and looked over the symbol carefully.
“It’s the typical mystic symbol—we all have it,” I said, thankful I hadn’t removed my gloves.
“I thought they all meant something, like some kind of classification or ID?” Franco said.
“It just signifies who we are, so they’re like birthmarks,” I answered. “Nothing really special about them.”
“Well, whoever did this wanted us to see this and the mystic,” he said. “You use fire, right? Can your ability do something like this?”
“My ability isn’t this precise,” I said and looked at the wound. “Whoever did this needed a focus, something to channel the power through.”
“They certainly focused on this mystic,” Franco said.
“You mean half a mystic,” Lewis said and then chuckled. “Someone wanted this guy dead in the worst way.”
“Lewis, get a copy of that image to run through the database and check for residuals,” Franco said. “I have to debrief the chief in thirty minutes and he’’s not going to be happy.”
Lewis pulled out a small device—an auric calibrator. It looked like a small hard-drive with a screen. He held it over the body until it gave off a chirp.
“Is Pitbull going to be on the scene?” I asked. “Or are you running this one?”
“I have lead and no one calls him that…to his face,” Franco said. “Canus won’t be on the scene. We’ll call it in.”
“Moira will want the readings,�
� I said. “Can you handle that, Lewis?”
Lewis cursed under his breath as he looked down at the calibrator.
“What is it?” Franco asked. “Something wrong?”
“This thing says he was a Water Mystic,” Lewis said. “No other reading in the area, besides her. Must be malfunctioning or getting interference.””
Lewis gave me a sidelong glance.
“A Water Mystic killed by fire?” Franco asked. “That doesn’t track. What’s your take on this, Ava?”
“No way would a Water Mystic let himself be killed like this,” I said. “Your calibrator must be off. You sure you know how to use that thing, Lewis?””
He shot me a dark look before running a second analysis.
“It’s working just fine,” he said and tossed it to me.
I caught it and looked down at the readings, confirming he was right. But it made no sense.
Water Mystics are not roasted like this.
“Why would the South Enclave send us a goddamn rookie, Franco?” Lewis said. “Especially this one? What’s the matter? All the real investigators asleep?”
My face flushed as the temperature around us rose. The cigarette Lewis held in his lips instantly became ash. The symbols on the backs of my hands flared bright orange through my gloves as the calibrator gave off a high-pitched whine. Lewis brought his hand to his face. I had given him an instant tan.
“You bitch!” he yelled. “She burned me!”
“You look better with a little color,” I said.
He reached for his gun as I opened my trench coat and placed a hand on one of my truncheons.
“Lewis…” Franco said. “Back off.”
“She’s a goddamn flamer,” Lewis said. “Maybe she knows who did this. Hell, for all we know it was her.”
“If I had done this, there wouldn’t be a body to find,”
I said, and tossed back the calibrator a little harder than necessary.
“That supposed to scare me?” he said. “You threatening me? All of you mystic investigators are full of—”
“Enough, Lewis,” Franco said. “Take the readings back to the van so we can analyze them later, and make a copy for the Director of the MID.””
A Dream of Ashes: An Ava James Mystery (Chronicles of the Modern Mystics Book 1) Page 1
