Blaze Ignites (Scourge Survivor Series Book 1)

by J. L. Madore

  In the centre of the room was a large round table with eight chairs. It looked like a do-it-yourself craft bomb had gone off, leaving behind glitter and paisley shrapnel. The table, carpet, wooden floor and every other surface was covered in either sparkles or tassels.

  "A slice of heaven . . . isn't it?" Amanda said, sweeping her hand through the air in front of her. "It screams serenity, don't you think?"

  It screams something.

  The Queens took their places and once I was settled opposite them, Galan sat beside me and Reign and Samuel sat on the other side of him. Cara laid her hands flat on the table. Clare and Amanda, sitting on either side of her, each took a hand in theirs.

  "What do you know about your history, Cookie?" Cara asked.

  Galan leaned forward, his leg bouncing under the table against mine. "Solely what we were taught through our lore. Ten thousand years ago, my ancestors were guardians to Queen Rheagan, immortal half-sister to Castian Latheron. He appointed her as a Fae matriarch to oversee the mortals of the Realm of the Fair. She was to govern yet remain impartial and allow the realm to decide its own fate. Two millennia later my Highborne ancestors realized they had unknowingly become part of her plan to control the existence of all races. Though they endeavored to stop her, they were exiled for their part in her destruction."

  "Basically, your average dysfunctional family." Amanda winked. "Every family has a few bats flying loose in the attic."

  "Ours is Stinky Uncle Pete," Clare said, looking sympathetic.

  Cara smiled at her sister and continued. "That's true, but Rheagan was incredibly powerful even though she was bat-shit crazy. She truly believed weeding out the weaker races would preserve the arcane energies of the Fae. What you might not know is that when she clued in that her noble children didn't have the stones for her plans, she struck up an unholy alliance with a few of the Dark races."

  Amanda nodded. "Even then, some were well on the way to becoming the scum sucking Scourge we know and abhor today."

  "When Castian kicked Rheagan's scrawny tukis out of the Pantheon," Cara said, "she gathered what supporters she had and formed a secret society—the Aina Ohtar." She paused and looked at Galan. "Did I pronounce that correctly, Cookie?"

  Galan's hair swung loose as he nodded. "Holy Warriors."

  Cara beamed, obviously pleased with herself. "So, she held clandestine meetings cultivating plans to skim the scum off the Realm, letting the cream rise to power. It was very 'Illuminati-esque', wouldn't you say sisters?"

  "Absolutely," they chimed in.

  "Her Holy Warriors gained strength as the uprising progressed. She knew her brother would never stand for a member of the Fae gods altering the lives of his mortal charges and she didn't have the juice she needed to defeat Castian head on, so she devised her come-back tour."

  I gasped. "Do you really think Rheagan could come back?"

  "We do," Cara said. "She's been banished and cursed, yet retains her immortality. In theory, the Aina Ohtar could free her from the depths to help her reclaim her throne."

  "How?" Reign asked.

  Cara leaned forward and raised a brow. "Well, we're just speculating on that. At the time of the final uprising, the Highbornes had taken control of the palace. The Queen had no allies. We believe she embedded a resurrection spell amongst an innocuous incantation in her spellbook. According to the records of the Highbornes' sentencing, Aduial, General of the Royal Guard took that spellbook with him into exile."

  "Why would she trust him with it if she knew they were against her?" Galan asked.

  "Well, for one thing, she didn't tell him about the spell. And also, for centuries Aduial had been not only her personal bodyguard, but her voracious lover. Legend says his endurance and prowess in battle translated to other areas of their relationship. He caught the wanton eye of the Queen and she never looked back."

  Amanda smiled. "From what we hear he rocked her like nobody's business."

  "Oh," Clare sighed, "we need to find us one of those men, don't we, sisters?"

  "From your lips to the Fates' ears," Cara said, clasping her hands. "Light a candle and say a prayer, girls."

  "Anyhoo," Cara said, shaking her head, "although Aduial lay beside her in the sheets, he couldn't stand by her side in her quest for power no matter how much he enjoyed the canoodling. Unknown to all but the two of them, Aduial and Rheagan had a secret love child. A baby girl named Ezra. They hid the pregnancy but with her coming fate, Rheagan spilled the beans about the birth to the Aina Ohtar. She claimed her daughter was the key to her resurrection to power."

  "What happened to Ezra?" Reign asked.

  "She was exiled with her Highborne daddy and the spellbook. The Aina Ohtar had no way of breaking Castian's spell and couldn't resurrect their Queen until he pardoned their sentence and released the exiles."

  "Which has happened," I said. "So, what became of the Aina Ohtar?"

  "Oh, it's still around. It's governed by the leaders of the faction uniting the Dark rogues of the realm. In short, it's the foundation of the Scourge hierarchy.

  Fabulous. The possibilities of what they were saying flopped in my belly like a knot of eels. "Assuming the spell is secured, could they still resurrect her?"

  "From what we've seen in the cards, no, but sorcerers are a tricky, sticky bunch."

  Galan slid a sideways glare toward Samuel and then shook his head. "How could they know which one of us was Ezra's heir? After eight thousand years, we have no knowledge of who that might be."

  Amanda brushed a blonde wisp from in front of her eyes and her Adam's apple dipped as she swallowed. "Ezra was known for a rare genetic characteristic which set her apart from other Highbornes. It was said to be a gift from Castian to his niece at the time of her birth."

  "And what was that?" Galan waited, fingers drumming the table. I covered the hand closest to me and squeezed.

  Amanda looked to her sisters and let the words tumble in a rush. "Ezra and her heirs were the only Highborne females who were ever, and always, born with silver hair."

  Galan's face drained. "Lia?"

  "Lia." Cara repeated. "I'm sorry, Cookie, but your sister is the living heir to the Queen and her lover. And there's more." She waited for his attention, her gaze locked on his. "From the time of her rule until now, all male offspring in Rheagan's bloodline have had flaxen hair. Are you aware you're the first male to ever have silver like the females?"

  Galan nodded. "My mother said I was a gift from the gods, that never did she expect to be given the blessing of a silver son."

  Clare's eyes were filled with compassion. "I received a poem of prophesy yesterday." She pushed a sheet of parchment across the wide, round table.

  Though I couldn't make out the words, the poem flowed across the thick sheet in a flourish of calligraphy. He drew it closer. I'd studied most of the languages of the Realm enough to identify them. This was something I'd never set eyes on.

  "What does it say?" I asked.

  Galan's stare moved from the black ink, to me, then to the three women. His lips were pressed tight together as he dragged his fingers through his hair.

  "I'm just a messenger," Clare said. "The gist of the images I got while writing it were that there is an uprising coming. From what I gather the man at the helm of the resistance is you, the silver Highborne male."

  Cara leaned closer, her face lined with shadow. "I'm sorry, Cookie, but if Lia is the key to freeing Rheagan . . . we believe you are the key to stopping her."

  Galan jacked out of his chair and paced the glittery rug. "It is a mistake. Lia is a sapling and I . . . I am no warrior. I have no instinct for rebellion. It is ludicrous."

  The three oracles looked on steadily as he swirled and spun and paced. "Cookie, you've gone an unsightly shade of mint. Can we get you some tea?" Cara said. "We have a lovely Chamomile that might sooth you."

  "No. Grati—"

  "Galan." I stomped my foot, unclear if he was even aware of what he'd almost done.

&nbs
p; Galan clenched his hands into fists, crumpling the parchment in his grip. "Apologies, I need a moment." Whirling toward the door, Galan made his escape and I followed.

  A few feet down the hall he braced his hands on his knees. After all I'd lived through, the battles, the healings and the death of my parents, I thought I'd be immune to this level of suffering. Not even close. One look in those ocean blues and my heart shattered like crystal, nothing but a million shards hitting a slime green runner. "What can I do?"

  Galan's breathing hitched as his lungs took in shallow breaths much too quickly in a disjointed rhythm. His head must be spinning. Before I could get under him, his legs caved and he fell to his knees, his expression blanking out.

  "Galan, breathe slower. You're going to faint." I knelt behind him, not sure he even heard me. "Deep breaths." Rubbing my hands across his back I connected with him and sent out a wave of warmth. It permeated deep into his lungs until they eased open and let in oxygen. As his breathing slowed, his dizzy panic faded. He leaned heavy against my chest and tilted his head into the curve of my neck. I wrapped my arms around his chest and held tight. "It's all right. We'll figure this out. We'll find her and figure this all out."

  "Can you be certain?" he whispered. "They expect to use her to release their Queen. Even if we find her, she will forever be hunted by Dark members of the realm. How do I protect her?"

  My arms constricted tighter. "The two of you will live at Haven until we figure this out. You'll stay there and be safe."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Back on Richmond Street, Galan lowered the brim of his hat, lifted the collar of his jacket and pushed his Ray-Ban's tighter against his face. The stiffness in his body was making me nuts. I opened my mouth a couple times. No words came. What the hell do you say to someone who finds out he's a descendant of a maniacal Fae goddess and his sister has been kidnapped to resurrect her? Is there a Hallmark card for that?

  Fucking Fates. They had a way of kinking the road ahead so you never saw what was coming. Your life would go careening over the cliff and land in a fiery ball of mangled steel at the bottom of some out-of-the-way ravine. Even the best laid plans blew sky high when those women got bored with their day-to-day.

  In one afternoon Galan was devastated and Samuel and Reign were stewing about something I missed while Galan and I were in the hall. Turmoil hemorrhaged from the group but I couldn't do a damn thing to help any of them. Yippee.

  I caught Galan's arm and hung back. "Are you all right?"

  "No," he muttered, his honesty catching me off guard. "My life is aflame. Fire bursts all around me, yet I have no way to extinguish it." While Galan spoke, Reign and Samuel crossed the street and headed down the alley to the antique shop.

  "Give yourself a sec to catch up," I said. "Two weeks ago you were packing for your Ambar Lenn. I've been dealing with this insanity for decades and it still swamps me at times."

  He reached under the glasses and rubbed his eyes. "What will they do if she refuses them? Lia can be strong willed, trying even."

  "She's valuable to them. That will probably keep her safe. I bet they consider her royalty already." Goosebumps covered my arms and my body was suddenly tingling all over. What the hell? I scanned the crosswalk and street. Nothing. "Let's get home. Reign and Samuel are probably already waiting at the shop."

  Tires screeched and two Escalades with blacked-out windows blocked us from the alley. When the passenger doors swung open, half-a-dozen men in black oozed onto the sidewalk. The looked human enough, but the warm summer breeze carried the faint scent of skunk and rot.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  "It's a glamour." Without thinking I reached for my whip, right, not a weapon for the city. Sending off jolts of magical energy here was a no-go too; we'd be noticed for sure. Truth was, the Scourge didn't attack in the Modern Realm. What the hell was going on? Stopped in our tracks I searched for an out. In the split-second I glanced away, the tallest of the group grabbed something out of his belt. A metallic edge glinted blue in the evening sun.

  With sickening speed the man unleashed the dagger into the air. We didn't have time to avoid being hit. All I could do was throw up a quick veil of secrecy and hope it would be enough to conceal our actions from Mundane eyes.

  Galan was a silver blur, his reflex nothing short of lightning. Caging me into his arms he spun us out of the path of the approaching blade. He flinched for a split second and in that same instant turned with the blade of the dagger in his hand. He'd plucked it out of the air and without hesitation sent it end over end back to its owner.

  The blade sunk true. The attacker's hands grasped at the weapon lodged into his throat as he crumpled. Blood fountained through clenched fingers, pooling like oil onto the concrete. Three others stepped over him and advanced.

  "Are you hurt?"

  "I shall do." Galan stepped back. "We need to leave this place."

  I grabbed Galan's outstretched hand and wove through evening traffic. Dodging cars, cabs and delivery trucks, angry drivers honked and threw hand gestures. When we turned a corner, a bike messenger almost rammed into Galan. We kept running. By the way he was cursing there was a real possibility he was going to come after us too.

  Glancing back, there were three men right behind us and two more behind them.

  "Castian, come to me." A warm breeze swirled around my face. "Wind, carry my message. Reign, seal the gate. We've got company. We'll find another way. Trust me." When the comfort of the breeze left me, my warning had been sent. Reign's first instinct was always to protect his girls, but he knew I could take care of myself. I think. I dodged a row of street vendors and almost took out a couple ladies with enough shopping bags to fill the fourth floor closet. "Thank you, wind. Castian stay with me, we're in danger."

  I pulled Galan down an open concrete staircase leading from the street to the concourse. "I need my backpack," I said. Grabbing it on the fly, I pushed through the glass door dividing the stairwell from the shops below. Urging it closed behind us, I flattened my hand over the handles and locked them with my powers.

  "Will that stop them?"

  I shook my head. "Just slow them down." We hustled down the polished passageways of people while I rummaged through the pack.

  "Where are we?" he asked, eyes wide.

  "In the PATH. It's an underground extension of the city's major streets and businesses." The sound of shattering glass had me glance over my shoulder. "Dammit." Closer than I thought.

  After a brief pause to orient myself, I grabbed his wrist and led him through another maze of corridors, restaurants and shops. "There." I pointed to the dark shadows down a long dead-end service corridor. "This will do."

  When we turned the corner I began to hum, weaving the incantation. Galan's jaw dropped slack when he turned back and an identical image of the two of us was standing at the opening of the hallway. With the wave of my hand, the conjured doppelgangers continued up the main corridor the way we'd been running.

  "What was that?"

  "Not now." I recited an invisibility chant, keeping us shielded.

  The door to my right was marked Storage. With the pass of my hand a soft, metallic click sounded from the lock. We slipped in, but it was tight. The space was nothing more than a reach in closet. Galan's hips pressed against my butt as I faced the door to close it. After a small struggle, I managed to slide the tumbler back in place and close us in. It was pitch. At the soft rustle of Galan's reach, I caught his arm.

  "No lights," I whispered.

  I pressed my palms against the cold steel of the door. The tremors were already building. My eyes darted through the black void in front of me. Nothing. I'm not going to lose it. I'm not trapped . . . I'm not alone. I'm not going to lose it.

  "Jade?" A firm grip on my hips had me turning in place. He secured my face in his palms. "What is it? Your heart races like a hare in flight and your fear burns bitter in the air."

  Memories overtook logic and that storage closet became a dank, root
cellar. Childhood nightmares boiled in my gut and expanded. As the pressure built, I tried desperately not to let a scream peal from my throat. My hands. They were shaking like the wings of a hummingbird.

  "Blossom, what can I do?" Galan's voice was grounded, calm. He gathered my hands in his. He wasn't rattled. He was just . . . there with me. The heat coming off his body was incredible. It barely touched the ice circulating through my veins. Barely. I locked my knees and tried to focus on reining in this fall-apart. The last thing I needed was to buckle to the floor when we were being hounded.

  "Jade." His breath warmed my ear. "Tell me what is happening and I swear to make it right for you."

  Instinct demanded I curl up on the floor and wrap my arms around my knees. I swallowed hard trying to draw oxygen into frozen lungs. "Tight, dark spaces. I, uh, hate—"

  Galan tightened his hold on me and stroked my cheek. "Close your eyes and focus on my voice. You are not alone in that terrible place, Jade. The sapling you once were has grown into a force of nature, an incredible, powerful female." He took my wrist and pressed my hand flat on his chest. "Slow your heart to match the rhythm of mine."

  His heart beat against my palm, racing. Too fast. This wasn't working. "Galan, I—"

  His lips were soft and warm against mine as he pinned me to the steel of the door. The metallic chill behind me seeped through my clothes. The scent of him, his clean, manly spice inched inside me and calmed my nerves. Silky fingers slipped behind my jaw, securing me in his kiss. This was the best diversion ever. His arms twined around me, ivy reaching for the warmth of the sun's rays. I seized the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric, crushing my body to his. He kissed me in that powerful, possessive way he had.

  The stuff of legends.