Touching Fire (Touch Saga)

by Airicka Phoenix

  As easily as though I was made of paper, he flicked me off. I hit the ground on my hip with a jarring force that made me cry out. Pain splintered up my side and I lay paralyzed for a moment, desperately trying to catch my breath. Only the air seemed to solidify. It crackled with sharp coils of electricity that had all the little hairs along my arms prickle. I twisted onto my back and squinted at the pair only a few feet away.

  Isaiah had gone very still. I wasn’t even sure he was breathing anymore. He stood pressed into the wall, an unstoppable force staring at Ashton as though nothing short of Ashton’s blood was going to satisfy him.

  Blue eyes vanished in a pit of endless black, like the bottom of a wall at night. They rolled passed Ashton’s shoulder to where I lay and his nostrils flared. I felt the slam of fear even before all the air got sucked from the space.

  “Isaiah, wait—”

  He wasn’t listening to me. His focus had found and latched on to Ashton. Lips I had so often longed to feel against mine were curled back over teeth that had become jagged and serrated like wolf fangs. Fingers capped with razor sharp talons flexed, then curled into fists at his sides.

  “Isaiah!” I scrambled to my feet and ran to him, hoping that if he could see my face and see that I was okay, he’d calm down. “Stop!”

  “Fallon!” Ashton grabbed me and, in a single jerk, shoved me just as Isaiah lunched himself.

  The two colliding forces shook the ground. Picture frames toppled off the walls and crashed to the floor. The backlash slashed through the corridor, slamming into me as though a nuclear bomb had gone off. The heat, mangled with the cloud of debris choked the air and I crashed into the wall.

  I coughed, staggering to my feet.

  “Isaiah!” My hoarse cry barely carried over the roar.

  The cloud settled, revealing a tangled mess of arms and legs. Isaiah was perched on top of Ashton, meaty fists slamming into the other man’s face.

  “Isaiah, stop!”

  With a growl, Ashton planted his hands on Isaiah’s chest and shoved. The burst of power behind the single gesture slammed into me seconds before Isaiah slammed into the opposite wall, leaving a crater in the plaster before crumpling to the ground in a heap. I ran to him just as Ashton pushed to his feet, tugging at his torn and rumpled dress shirt and rolling his shoulders. His eyes, the voluminous black of hell bore into Isaiah. He took a dominating stride towards Isaiah.

  I moved to block him, fully prepared to take him down if he took another step when something shot past me with a snarl. It crashed into Ashton and they both plowed into the opposite wall. Bricks and plaster rained down over them, muffling the crack of meat pounding into meat.

  “Enough!” But they were set out to kill the other.

  It was up to me.

  I waited for the perfect moment, that single moment when there was enough room between the two to jump in. No doubt, a very stupid idea. I could get killed, but someone had to do it.

  That moment came when Isaiah, grabbed Ashton by the collar, hoisted him up like a rag doll and drove him into the ground with enough power to carve a winding splinter down the length of the hardwood. I leapt the second he drew back one arm to slam the fisted hand into Ashton’s face.

  I threw myself into his chest, hooking both arms around his neck and clinging on so tight, if he’d been anyone else, I would have choked him to death.

  “Stop,” I whispered into his neck. “I’m okay.”

  His entire body vibrated as tension, rage and power hummed through him. I could feel his heart pounding through his chest, crashing into mine. The coiled muscles along his arms and back flexed, not softening, but bending enough so his arms came around me. Vaguely, I was aware of the scuffling behind me as Ashton scrambled to his feet. But I just kept holding on, not trusting that Isaiah was fully back to himself.

  “Fallon?” His breath burned hot against the side of my neck.

  I nodded.

  Gradually, the stiffness melted off him. His breathing slowed and his heart dropped back to its regular tempo. I didn’t pull away until his hands moved over my back. I drew back to peer into his face, searching.

  There was an angry bruise turning an ugly shade of black along his left cheekbone to the end of his eyebrow. Blood trickled from his chin and dropped onto his shirt from the gash on his bottom lip. But his fangs were gone and his eyes were blue once more. Nevertheless, I asked anyway.

  “You okay?”

  It was his turn to nod. His gaze dropped to his hand and we watched as the nails sunk back into their cuticles. I didn’t miss the way they trembled before he made a fist to still it.

  “What happened?”

  I looked up into his face. Concern gnawed on my stomach at the terror I could see there.

  “You don’t remember?”

  He grounded the heel of his hand into the back of his eyelid as though staving off a headache.

  “Kind of.” His gaze lifted over my head to fix on the figure behind me. He released me to face my father, the anger returning, but not with as much force. “Don’t you ever touch her like that again,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, yet it cracked through the corridor like a whip. “I respect you and I owe you my life, but I will kill you and I won’t regret it.”

  Ashton’s hands balled into twin fists of violence at his sides, his eyes chips of pure onyx.

  “No!” I put an arm out towards my father when it was very evident that Isaiah was about to get his head torn off with those razor sharp talons the way I’d seen Ashton tear apart the Shadow Brothers. “Please!” I was trembling with fear as the monster prowled inside me, waiting for the chance to rip into Ashton. “Please,” I said again. “You need to stop.”

  Ashton wasn’t even looking at me. The entire surface of his eyes had gone opaque and stayed fixated on Isaiah. “Get out of my way, Fallon.”

  “I can’t!” I cried. “Please, just listen to me. If you hurt him, I’ll kill you. I don’t want to. I don’t, but I won’t be able to stop.”

  At long last, Ashton’s gaze slid away from Isaiah to focus on me. His brows furrowed. “What?”

  Breathing hard, I shook my head. “I can’t control it. You have to believe me. I’m trying to protect you.”

  Ashton stepped back. The color returned to his eyes and he just stared at me. “Control what, Fallon?”

  I wiped my sweaty, shaky palms down the length of my thighs. “I have something inside me, something strong and dangerous and … it won’t let anyone hurt Isaiah. If you touch him … I can’t stop it. I’ll hurt you, or worse. You don’t believe me,” I whispered when he continued to study me.

  He shook his head. “I do.”

  I blinked. “You do?”

  Carefully, he smoothed the wrinkles on his dress shirt before responding. “Yes.” His gaze met mine. “I was witness to it only earlier when you confronted Quain. I thought perhaps it was your Rem coming out, but it wasn’t quite right.”

  It was my turn to stare. “My what?”

  Ashton sighed. “I think we need tea for this conversation and you said there was something you needed to tell me?” His gaze flickered to Isaiah. The anger was still there, but at least he didn’t attack.

  He turned on his heels and starting towards the stairway.

  He led us to the library. It was void of Quain and company. Archer wasn’t there either. The room was completely empty and still in a way only a library could be.

  The first time I’d been there, I hadn’t been given the opportunity to truly marvel at the majestic beauty of the room, the spiraling columns of knowledge and adventure that dominated every nook. Twisted iron, polished oak and gleaming marble constructed a place of dreams. I wanted to live there. I was even tempted to ask if I could transfer my room to this one. I didn’t even need a bed. I could just curl up on the sofa with the hearth roaring at my feet, an afghan thrown over my legs and Isaiah pressed into my back as I read.

  The picture was so clear, I had a hard time climbing back
into reality when Ashton closed the doors behind us and moved to take a seat in the high back chair. He prompted us to take the sofas on either side of him as he used his free hand to ring a small, gold bell that he took up off the round table on his left. I had no idea how he expected anyone to hear that. Not only was the library enormous, but he’d closed the door.

  Nevertheless, I made my way to the sofa on his right and sat. Isaiah followed my lead and took the spot next to me.

  “Now.” Ashton folded one leg over the other, rested both hands on the armrests and watched us with a very controlled expression, like he was waiting for the worst news possible. Way to build my confidence, Dad. “Tell me your news.”

  “Well,” I began slowly. “I guess what we told you was what we were going to tell you. You know, about the whole … monster, thing.”

  Ashton’s eyes widened. “That’s it?”

  I glanced at Isaiah, then back at Ashton and shrugged. “Yeah … what did you think we were going to tell you?”

  He waved his hand in a circular motion. “I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way you both behave around each other and all the whispering. I suppose I assumed it would be something a little more distressing.”

  “Distressing?”

  He seemed incredibly uncomfortable as he alternated between dusting invisible particles off his knee and avoiding my gaze.

  “You were sharing a bed for the last several weeks,” was all he said, which explained nothing to me. “Perhaps we should talk about what you wanted to talk about? You said it was serious.”

  I glanced to Isaiah again, hoping maybe he had some idea of what Ashton was talking about, but he was staring at his knees, a faint flush on his cheeks.

  “Well, it is kind of serious,” I began, deciding to just let it go for the time being. “I mean, I have this thing inside me that likes killing people.”

  “And you think that means there’s a monster inside you?”

  “I kill people,” I stressed. “What do you call it?”

  “Instinct,” he said without hesitation. “Even humans have that primal drive inside them, the one that propels them to survive and protect. Does that make them monsters?”

  I gave my head a hard shake. “You don’t understand. I kill them with my bare … hands.” I trailed off even before Ashton’s eyebrow winged up in an almost amused gesture. “Like you…”

  He chuckled. “You have gotten quite a few things from me by the looks of it.”

  “No,” I said. “It doesn’t work like that. It only comes out when Isaiah’s in danger. I lose control and black out. I can’t be stopped.”

  He splayed his long fingers. “You need to be taught control that’s all. There is nothing wrong with you.”

  He wasn’t getting it. I hated that he was downplaying something so evil. How could he not see what a danger I was?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Isaiah reach for me. But he stopped before his hand could touch mine and drew away. I was both relieved and disappointed.

  “Is that all?” Ashton asked when no one said anything for a moment.

  I shook my head slowly. “No, but I need you to tell me what I am first. I need to know…” why I’m like this, I finished in my head.

  Ashton straightened a little. He unfolded his legs and turned to the silver tray gleaming under the natural light spilling through the magnificent windows. Unhurriedly, he poured himself a cup of tea. Added sugar, cream and stirred delicately before turning to us again. But now I was no longer curious about my question.

  “Where did that come from?” I glanced at the enormous doors.

  How had someone snuck in, crossed the room with a tray loaded with tea and cakes, and then left again without any of us noticing?

  Ashton still in his stirring and blinked up at me. “You didn’t see it?”

  I darted a glance over the empty space. “See what?” I glanced at Isaiah. “Did you see it?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Ashton lowered his teacup bearing arm and stared. “The hallow.”

  I exchanged a glance with Isaiah and was relieved to see he looked as bemused as I felt. “Uh, no, no, we must have missed that. What’s a hallow?”

  He took a sip of his tea, then set the cup down on the tray. “They’re not really a what, but more of a … who.” He met my gaze squarely. “They are an echo of the human soul.”

  Now what does one say to that? Stunned silence seemed to be the only thing I could muster.

  “Souls,” I said finally, slowly … cautiously. “You have souls just … wandering, around the place?”

  A grin touched his lips, but it was quickly concealed. Yet it continued to sparkle behind his eyes. “Where did you expect souls to go?”

  Well, not to my dad’s house.

  “Heaven? Hell…” I trailed off, my heart sinking into my gut. “Are we in hell?”

  Ashton burst out laughing. He laughed so hard and for so long, I didn’t think he’d ever stop. And really, my question wasn’t that funny! Excuse me for being concerned.

  Slowly, he sobered, but barely. “Now why would you assume that?”

  I looked over the place. “Well…” I waved a hand at the Goth motif. “It’s either that, or you need to fire your decorator. This place doesn’t exactly scream … heavenly. Also, you keep referring to my world as the topside, making me think we’re underside.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “You are not in hell, or heaven,” he added when my eyebrows went up.

  “I think that’s a relief.” I exhaled. “So where are we and why do you have souls?”

  The teacup was lifted again, but left in its saucer. “You are in Luxuria, my … our home.”

  “Okay, but I doubt I’ll find Luxuria on any mortal map, so where exactly are we?”

  He took a timid sip as he stared into the empty hearth. With a flick of his long fingers, a roaring blaze erupted on the grate, snapping and crackling like it had been lit for hours. I hated that I actually jumped in surprise. How could I still possess the ability to be surprised? Hadn’t I seen stranger things?

  “Luxuria,” Ashton began, rising to his feet, “Is one region of seven.” He reached into his pocket with his free hand while simultaneously setting his cup down with the other. A moment later, he withdrew the long rod thing Archer had given him the day we met, the magical portal making quill. But it was gold. “This is a rawel,” he said, holding the object up for us to see. It was no bigger than a thick pen. “It’s a key of sorts,” he explained, moving to the coffee table between us. “Each one is unique to the owner and cannot be used by another, unless that other person is a Sire. It is embedded with the owner’s blood.” He flipped the little notch and it shot to full length.

  “You used Archer’s,” I said. “Does that make you—?”

  “A Sire? Yes.”

  “His was silver,” I observed.

  Ashton nodded, taking great care not to look up from the item in his hand. “Yes. He isn’t a Sire. Not yet and thus does not yet wield the same level of power I do.”

  My eyes narrowed. “But his father is a Sire.”

  “Yes.” Without another word, he delicately set the pointy end on the smooth glass. It wobbled, but remained upright. He waved a hand over the rod and shimmering lights erupted from the end. They spilled down in curls until they hovered an inch off the glass in a circle around the rod. One by one, the lights took shape, forming symbols I didn’t recognize. There were seven and as I watched, they each took on individual hues. Green. Violet. Red. Light blue. Yellow. Orange. Blue.

  “Our region.” He pointed to the blue one shaped like a waning crescent with an arrow speared through the back. “The rest are the other regions.”

  His hands moved clockwise over the other symbols, stopping at each one to name them.

  There were six, not including Luxuria. Hybris was the violet symbol shaped like a barbell shot through with a squiggly line. Aumon was yellow, shaped like an upright triangle broken at t
he bottom so the flat part sharpened to pointy legs. An upside down crescent moon hung from the top point like a domed roof. Beram was green and shaped like a box without the top. A line was cut down the center to stop at a small triangle at the bottom. Toran was orange and the most elaborate of the lot with a cross cut into the center of a triangle. The ends stuck out the bottom and sides and a ring haloed the middle. The red one, Ira, was a U with a line down the center and a crescent moon at the middle point. Finally, the light blue one represented the Acedia region, an upside down point with a star in the center.

  “We are part of Agartha,” Ashton went on, gesturing to the entire diagram. “If Luxuria were a province or a state, then Agartha would be our country,” he explained when I frowned in confusion.

  “How did we get here?” I asked. “And where exactly is here? Are we still on earth?”

  Ashton shrugged. “Yes and no.” He set his hand on top of the rawel. “We arrived through the nexus.” The image shimmered. The glowing light weaved together to form an elaborate maze.

  “The corridor of doors!” I exclaimed, recognizing the millions of doors.

  “The nexus,” Ashton corrected. “It leads to places even I haven’t explored. It is the gateway to all things in-between. Like us.”

  “In-between what?” I wondered.

  Ashton gave a careless wave of his free hand. “Worlds. Realms. Space and time. It’s all the same place. You have to pass through the nexus to get there.”

  I shifted to the edge of the sofa to better observe the elaborate display of winding tunnels and corridors. “So why haven’t humans found it?”

  “The nexus, theoretically, cannot actually be used,” he said with great deliberation. “It is not in a place that one can find, be you human, or none. It can only be found if they wield a rawel. We,” he gestured between himself and me. “And the guards are the only creatures with the abilities to see the nexus for what it is, and only because the creator of the rawel built the guards to protect the nexus.”

  “Sir?” Isaiah leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What are you?”

  I felt stupid for not having asked that question myself. Instead, I was asking about doors.