Embers of Darkness (Through the Ashes Book 2)

by J. A. Culican

  Bells shrugged. She wasn't so sure of that. "Did you deserve what Darren did to you? Did Jewels deserve what happened to her?"

  Jaekob cracked one eye open to look at her. "Now you sound like you're defending the hairless monkeys. Well, you always had a much brighter outlook on people than I do. Anyway, I wanted to find those who killed my friend, but even now, I'm struggling to find the anger to stay focused. You might say I've lost my motivation."

  His loss of faith was understandable, his loss of the fire in his blood for justice. What justice could there be when people carried so much darkness in their hearts?

  She said, "I'm so sorry. None of this is fair." When she didn't get a reply, she glanced over and found he had fallen asleep. That sounded like a smart idea. She padded over to the loveseat and lay down, closing her eyes, and began to drift asleep almost immediately. She had a faint hope she was wrong about people and the good outweighed the evil. After all, she was a good person, right? Then again, maybe she was fooling herself.

  Maybe all the villains thought they were the good guys.

  Bells faced the frenzied werewolf as Jaekob wrestled with it, holding it at bay. Its claws threw sparks against Jaekob's scales where they struck, his scales flashing in and out of view with each hit. But the were was pushing him back toward her. Its eyes glowed black like liquid pitch. It growled at her, low and faint, "Bells... Bells, come back to us."

  Then she saw another image superimposed over the struggle—Jaekob and Hawking, both standing over her. Jaekob wore a smirk while Hawking rubbed his eyes, one lock of hair in back standing up comically. Gradually, the fight scene faded out and she realized she'd been dreaming.

  "Mrf. Hum. What? What's going on?" she asked, her tongue tripping over itself as the sleep fought to keep its grip on her.

  Hawking said, "I got a message from the Society. The contagion has stopped."

  She sat upright, leaning on her elbows and blinking sleep sand from her eyes. "What do you mean, stopped?"

  "No one knows why, but the little tendrils that spread it have turned to dust and died away. The masses of vines are still there, but they don't seem to be contagious. An elf threw a fae onto it to check and she didn't get infected."

  Her stomach dropped as she imagined what the poor fae must have felt being thrown into certain death to test a theory. "That's horrible."

  Jaekob nodded. "Yes, you're right. People are starting to come back out onto the streets, though, and that means we're more likely to be spotted with every minute that passes. We have to leave right now if we want to have a chance of getting out of Philadelphia."

  That wasn't what she meant but he had a point. She nodded and rolled off the couch to her feet, running her hands through her hair. She really needed a brush, but then again, none of them looked daisy-fresh at the moment. She tried not to focus her thoughts on her appearance—Jaekob wasn't the superficial sort anyway. Not that she cared what he thought.

  Yeah, right. "Okay, let's go already. Or would you rather keep staring at my mop?" she asked while tearing her 'finger comb' through a knot in her hair.

  "Let's go," Jaekob and Hawking both said, almost together.

  In five minutes, they were out the door. With more people on the roads, their original plan of heading west into the wastelands of the city before turning north made less sense. They split the difference by heading northwest, hoping to avoid most of the Pures as well as any humans.

  They hadn't gone a block before they passed an alley and Bells heard noise from inside. She looked down, squinting her eyes to see better, but then her eyes went wide with disbelief. Five fae had an elf on the ground and were savagely beating him with a stick and what looked like a car antenna. He cried out, "Stop! I'm your foreman, you monsters. I fed you and kept you safe!" The fae laughed, heads back as though it were the funniest thing ever, and kept beating the begging elf.

  Jaekob saw what she was looking at and grabbed her arm, dragging her away from the scene. "That's going to get ugly and you don't need to see it. Chaos brings out the worst."

  She grudgingly let him drag her away. "Why didn't you stop it? That's an elf. Fae can't do that, right?"

  He didn't reply, just clenched his jaw. Apparently, they could. That was a new thought.

  A block later, a vast indie merchant shop came into view as Bells rounded the street corner. Weres, elves, and even fae were climbing into the store through one shattered bay window and then leaving through the other shattered window, always with arms loaded down with loot. The merchant himself was nowhere to be found. Hopefully hiding.

  Jaekob let out a low whistle. "I can't believe they'd risk stealing from an indie merchant. Not worth it."

  Bells nodded. Indies had to be tough as iron to trade between the White King and Black Court, and they were often protected by both sides since they provided a valuable service both sides needed. "I guess it's hard to deliver punishment to hundreds of random strangers. I hope he's hiding, not dead."

  Hawking stared at the scene even longer than Bells did. He had his own big shop to worry about, though he was a White King merchant and his store was right on the market quarter, where it would probably be well protected.

  She said, "I'm sure your shop is fine, cousin."

  He didn't reply.

  They walked on in silence, and the tension was palpable. She was just as happy not to talk—the doubts she'd had before taking her long nap, about any of this being worth it, were only stronger now.

  A part of her realized she didn't actually care much what happened with the sword, the infection, Darren... None of it seemed important anymore. Ant colonies fighting over a trash can, just following their instincts and pretending it all had some nobler, higher purpose. But they were all just ants.

  Even her.

  For the rest of the trip to Philadelphia's outer edge, Jaekob and Hawking tried some half-hearted small talk, but Bells didn't join in. It was like she'd been hollowed out inside—empty spiritually and emotionally. When she realized she'd have gone home right then and awaited the end with her family if she hadn't committed herself to this sword nonsense, she suddenly felt lost, as well. Which way was the right way? Normally, she just listened to her heart. Today, it wasn't telling her what to do and so she just put one foot in front of the other, a robot following the heels of the person in front of her.

  They reached the edge a few hours later, where the thick suburbs faded out into half-rural neighborhoods. Bells' feet hurt, and Hawking's aura was screaming at her that he was in pain, too. He wasn't used to the hard work of a farmer or a warrior, so the journey was rough on him. Whether or not the world deserved saving, Hawking was her cousin and he'd been good to her and even stuck his neck way out. He was too proud, perhaps, to ask for a rest break, but Bells wasn't.

  "Jaekob, my legs and feet are killing me” she said. “My back, too, from this pack. I need to stop and rest. I could even catch a nap if we can spare the time now that we're clear of the city."

  Jaekob didn't slow down. "No time. Only the sword can stop the chaos going on back there and around the world. Kalvin would never forgive me if I gave up."

  "Kalvin is beyond the Veil, Jaekob. His spirit is waiting in a Spirit Pool for his turn to be reborn."

  "You think you know how it works for dragons?" he snapped, but then his shoulders hunched and he said more softly, "But you're right. It's not him I owe, but his memory."

  Hawking winced with each step and said, "I... think the young woman is... right, Jaekob. She could do... with a rest." He flashed her a faint smile, which turned into another grimace as he walked.

  "Fine," Jaekob said. He didn't sound irritated, though, but indifferent. "We can shelter in that building over there," he added, pointing at a nice-looking house. It was almost identical to all the other houses on that long street, the only difference between the various houses being simply the sizes of their yards.

  Their spacing told Bells that the houses on the smaller end of the spectrum had one-quarter
acre, while the bigger properties were perhaps half an acre. The three of them would be able to see anyone coming from quite a long way away. The house he’d indicated had no lights from candles or lanterns, nor did the houses on either side of it.

  "That looks good," she said and headed toward the house.

  Jaekob and Hawking fell into step behind her and then Jaekob scrambled to get in front of her, intent on going in first in case there was any danger inside. It was good to know there were people who cared whether she lived or died.

  Jaekob

  Jaekob led the way going in and saw that it looked abandoned inside, just as it had from the outside. The old human owner was long gone and no Pures had claimed it. It didn't even look like a were pack had used it for a den, as the smaller, break-away packs were known to do in abandoned buildings in this part of the city.

  "Odd this hasn't been torn up," Hawking said, mirroring Jaekob's thoughts. He looked around the living room, nodding, and said, "Let's make sure it's empty before we rack out for some sleep, though. After you, mighty dragon."

  The truth was that Jaekob didn't actually mind Hawking's good-natured sarcasm, but it entertained him to make the fae believe it riled him up. It had become kind of a game to see how outrageously irritated he could appear before Hawking looked uncomfortable, but if he saw Hawking smiling, he pretended not to notice the comments.

  In a completely deadpan voice, he replied, "Of course. If there are any weres upstairs hiding, it's best to have a warrior in front." He paused for only a moment, just long enough to see the edges of Hawking's lips begin to purse together, then spun and headed upstairs.

  Once they got up there, however, he was all business; surprises could be lethal, and he intended to see any threats coming in time to react. They checked each room, Jaekob going in first and Hawking staying by the door to watch his back. If a were was in the room and attacked, the fae would be close enough to join the fight. All in all, they found three regular-sized bedrooms, one master bedroom with its own bathroom, and a large room with couches, a huge television, a pool table, and a bar. He checked the bar for alcohol, but it was empty. The regular sized rooms had normal beds, but the master bedroom had a California King. No doubt about it, the big mattress would be his—rank had its privileges, and he outranked the two fae.

  Once they were satisfied the upstairs was clear, he said, "Some of the houses in this area had basements. Let's see if this had one.”

  Hawking nodded. "Good idea. And the older the house, the more likely there will be one. I think these houses are pretty old by human standards."

  As Jaekob headed downstairs he replied, "It was definitely made after the last big human war against the Germans, I think about eighty years ago."

  "I stayed beyond the Veil the last time your people woke up. I haven't actually been on Earth since the industrial revolution."

  Jaekob frowned. The man was a merchant, not a warrior, but it was still a bit of a disappointment. "Interesting. You were lucky to be over there. It got bad, here."

  He didn't bring up his mother dying in his arms during that war. He didn't even want to think about it, but thankfully, he spotted a door under the stairwell. "What is it humans say when they find something? Yahtzee?"

  From the couch, Bells said, "No, it's 'bingo,' I think. Yeah, that's it."

  She smiled, and it seemed like the whole room lit up. The way her dimples showed up in her cheeks when she was smiling for real, but not when she was being polite, was the secret to what made her smile so charming.

  "You coming, big guy?" Hawking asked from where he stood in front of the closed basement door.

  Good. The fae merchant could be impulsive to the point of risk, sometimes. So could Bells. It was charming on her, amusing on him, and worth paying attention to it on both of them to make sure they didn't get into trouble. "The house isn't cleared until we do, so yeah. You open the door and I'll charge through, because anyone inside would surely have heard us by now and will be as ready as they can be. Basements only have one way in and out, usually."

  On the signal, Hawking opened the door and Jaekob leaped down the stairs, landing in a crouch, and scanned the new room. It was mostly dirt, with one wall covered by cinder blocks. Piles of cinder blocks were neatly stacked all around, waiting for a homeowner who would never be back to finish the project. Otherwise, it was essentially empty.

  Hawking let out a low whistle, sounding impressed. Jaekob turned to see what was so exciting and found the fae standing in front of the back wall below the staircase. That entire wall was covered with an odd shelf that looked like rows of short tubes set up from the floor to near the ceiling. Half the spaces were full of wine bottles. He wasn't very excited about wine, though Hawking clearly was.

  Jaekob sneered, "Only wine? You have to drink it straight like a Visigoth to feel it. Real warriors prefer harder drinks to unwind, and watered wine in polite company."

  Hawking took a bottle out from one of the tubes and peered at it intently, nodding. "Well, look at it this way. Bells' family is all farmers, right? They grow the things people used to make wine. I'm sure she'd rather enjoy a bottle of good wine than to get liquored up while we hide out in the middle of an elf neighborhood." The way Hawking looked at him made Jaekob uncomfortable, almost looking right through him and seeing something surprising for the first time.

  Jaekob didn't care for the exposed feeling and had to struggle to shove back his irritation. Hawking hadn't meant any harm, and Jaekob was well aware that anger was a secondary emotion, a reaction to the real emotion. In the back of his mind, sort of semi-conscious of it, Jaekob wondered whether the knowing look was about something other than wine. He crossed his arms and planted his feet about shoulder width apart. "Farmers also raise berries on bushes, most of which are meant to feed the birds to encourage them to gather on the farm. Which means, of course, lots of berries that aren't good for much except for making liquor."

  He grinned, somewhat surprised that he remembered that bit about fruit bushes from one of his conversations with Bells. She could talk endlessly about plants and all their varieties, how to get them to grow well, how to harvest them for food and medicine, almost like a walking encyclopedia. "You're a merchant, but I'm curious to know, do all fae know a lot about farming?"

  Hawking let his arms fall to his sides, the bottle still clutched in one hand, his cheeks reddening. "Not all fae are born knowing how to raise every plant, you know. Sure, most of us have plant magic, but that's different than being a farmer. That's like saying that because all dragons have wings, they automatically know how to fly from birth."

  Ouch. That made it a lot clearer. Sure, it was easy for any dragon to learn to fly with just a little practice and maybe a few tips, but some had never Risen if they were born after the last German war, and having never been outside the Warrens, they'd had few opportunities to fly until the Rising. Jaekob said, "We're getting too philosophical. Grab another bottle and let's head up." He smiled, just to let Hawking know all was well between them.

  Well, two bottles and three people—that math didn't add up. Jaekob went to the wall and grabbed two more bottles. The math still didn't add up, but at least he had an extra bottle of wine to show for it. Besides, he kept feeling dark, cold glimpses from Bells, thanks to the connection they would now always share. Whatever was wrong with her, she could use a bit more to drink. If she couldn't, then he sure could.

  "Ooh," Bells said, feeling excited. She scrambled to her feet and headed toward the kitchen. "Have a seat on the couch and I'll go find a bottle opener and glasses."

  She found a corkscrew in the silverware drawer and wineglasses hanging from a wooden rack over one counter. What a lucky find! She practically ran back to the living room and set the glasses down, then handed the corkscrew to Hawking. "You do the honors," she said, smiling. His find, his to open.

  She glanced at Jaekob and when she saw him looking at her with a bemused expression, she felt a little buzz zip down her spine. Oh well, let
him be entertained. She had wine! And judging by the bottle, it would be better than most of the wines she had ever had. Back in her village, any of the really good wines they found or made went to the elf foreman.

  As they drank, they talked about anything and everything, but nothing too deep or heavy. It was all just small talk. That was a human term, but a very good one. Humans seemed to think of small talk as a bad thing, but among the Pures, it was all part of the social traditions when people got together to unwind and bond.

  The next thing she knew, she glanced at the table and saw two empty bottles and a third one standing half-full. By Creation, how long had they been sitting there? She yawned suddenly, and Hawking yawned next as he scowled at her. Jaekob chuckled, but then it caught him, too, and she thought his jaw might unhinge with how wide he yawned.

  It was an amusing sight. Too bad she was having such a hard time enjoying it. An hour ago, she might even have laughed, but at the moment all she felt was... Well, she wasn't entirely sure. Numb, maybe. Her thoughts had drifted darker as they'd talked and drank.

  "And on that note," she said, "I think it's time to call it a night. I'll see you in the morning." Actually, though, her melancholy feelings were beginning to get on her nerves and she wanted to be alone for a while.

  She set her empty wine glass on the coffee table and stood, stretched—a good, long, full-body stretch—and then padded toward the stairwell. The floor shifted slightly beneath her. At first, she thought it was an earthquake. Then, she remembered they didn't really have earthquakes in Philadelphia. The entire bottle of wine she'd finished off in what probably was a very short time was the more likely culprit. She made sure to grip the wooden banister as she climbed up the stairs and the living room crept out of view behind a wall.