When Ash Rains Down (Kingdom Come #1)

by Cecelia Earl

  The ER parking lot is still full, and just as crazy as the cars stuck on the street behind the accident. I find a spot in a corner under a tree. Its leaves are black in this night and shield my car from the maddening sky. I hop out, feeling naked without any belongings. I left my Folder of Life at Molly's, asking her to guard it with her life. I have keys, my phone, and my purse, which I leave it under the driver’s seat. I huff and slam the door, ready to sprint to my mom. My chest is tight, and there's pain behind my eyes. I need a good Mom-hug and a bit of a cry to release the tension of the day.

  "Julia," a deep voice calls out through the darkness. I crank my head toward the sound, but see nobody. Drawing my arms around my body, I race on.

  "Julia." I stop. The voice sounds familiar. Did Cole make it here before me? I didn't hear the roar of a motorcycle, and the voice doesn't hold his warmth. Then I see the boy Cole fought with, the one who crazily showed up at my apartment, leaning against a dark van. He's nearly hidden by all the black surrounding him, but via lamplight, I can see he's in jeans and a white button up shirt that hangs open over a T-shirt. One foot is crossed over the other, a leisurely pose, as if he has nothing better to do than hang out alone in a hospital parking lot. He pushes off the van and moves toward me.

  "No way," I say, rushing on toward the hospital doors as fast as I can. His words from yesterday come rushing back. He gave me twenty-four hours to decide whether I'd go with him to fight demons.

  But then he's grabbing my arm around my elbow and holding me in place.

  "Julia, it's time to decide."

  "Let go of me!" I tug away, but he's one strong guy. "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet!"

  "I'm sorry about that," he apologizes, his voice calm and tired. "But you need to come now. Your family will be safe here yet, but you're not." His face is illuminated by the parking lot light about forty feet away. His jaw is set, his eyes staring hard into mine, like he's trying to send me subliminal messages. A twig snaps, and the guy's eyes dart around. "What's your decision?”

  I tug at my arm once more then shuffle my feet a few more inches away. "Never."

  He gasps and tightens his hold on my arm. I follow his eyes and see the parking lot fill with black smoke. But then the smoke takes form, like people or animals, before separating and moving over the ground and through the air like a dark fog. It's moving nearer to us, and I hear it.

  "What is that horrible noise?" My necklace is burning and my back between my shoulder blades feels like it's tearing open.

  Suddenly his hands are around my waist, and he's hoisting me up. He's tossed me like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. My head is dangling down his back with my feet swinging and kicking his stomach. I aim lower.

  "Knock it off, Julia," he whispers, scolding.

  He swings open the back of his van and sets me inside, backing away and grabbing the door.

  "Hey, you can't—" I scramble to my feet, but it's too late. He slams the door... and locks it. The handle won't budge from the inside, and there are no windows. I bang with my fists. "Let me out, you monster!"

  Panic, cold and real, washes up from my toes, drenching me in the ice-cold reality that I'm being kidnapped.

  A psychopath has trapped me in a van. With a lurch, I'm knocked to my butt. Through the doors, I think I hear the roar of a motorcycle mix with the thrum of the van's engine.

  Cole was too late to save me.

  I'm a goner.

  -22-

  It's dark in the back of the van, save for a crack of light coming from the front. The ground I'm on is cushioned. Carpeting, maybe. I feel along the walls, but there's nothing. I crawl along every square inch—bracing myself every so often when the van hits a bump—and find it's empty. Nobody does this. Flips another person, a stranger, over his shoulder and tosses her into a van. Nobody.

  This. Can't. Be. Happening.

  My mom and my brother are in a hospital, and this seriously deranged person is making my life even harder. No wonder Cole fought with him. I had let this guy, and that fight completely slip my mind, so now I have no information as to what they were fighting about. Is that why he took me? Does this have something to do with what they were fighting about? This is exactly why I don't get involved with people. I have no time for drama. None.

  I start to bang against the wall behind where the insane guy is driving.

  "This is kidnapping!" I yell. "You won't get away with this."

  I can't tell if the mumbling I hear is from him replying to me, talking to someone in the passenger seat, or in my head. Mostly I hear the roaring and rumbling of the road, the traffic, and the engine, and even that is muffled. In CIA movies, characters are able to decipher outside noises to figure out their location, route, and final destination. Ha! Either the vehicles they're in have paper-thin walls or I am that much dumber. It's so dark I can't even make out the time on my watch, and the noise is so distracting I can't tell whether I'm going over a bridge, riding through a forest, or passing by a train. My phone has zero service, so there's no way to access my GPS app.

  "This sucks!"

  I go back to banging, though my fists must be bruised they ache and throb so badly. My throat is raw and I'm getting no answers. Clearly, I'm not scaring him into pulling over. He doesn't give a flying rip what I think of him or this situation.

  What will he do once he stops this van? Ice fills my veins and lungs. No, I will not freeze up in panic mode. I feel around again, run my hands over the walls and ceiling. There's nothing in my pockets and nothing in this van to fight him with. I consider my options and decide throwing myself from a fleeing vehicle will be better than being tortured by him. I prepare myself, brace my body for pain, practice a crouch and a roll, and then pull the latch on the door. Still locked. I run at it and bang into it with my side. Pain shoots into my shoulder and upper arm. I do it again. I may have broken my elbow. Three times a charm, right? I windmill my arm, warming it up and stretching out the pain, and throw myself. Still the door doesn't budge, but I swear the bones in my arm do. It won't help to injure myself further before having to fight him off and escape.

  That's it. I'll just have to escape. As soon as he throws the doors open, I can stomp on his foot, kick at his knees, poke at his eyes, and knee him where it counts. I will be ready. I sit cross-legged at the doors, a predator waiting for her prey. As soon as the van stops, I'll move to crouch and use my claws, or maybe fists.

  As soon as I escape, my phone will work and I will be able to call the police, get back to my family, get the money, and the contractor, and life will get back on track. I have nothing if not my focus, my will to turn everything around.

  Despite the fear fueling my alertness, my eyes are growing heavy by the time the van finally slows and stops. When it does, though, I shake myself awake, ready. I crouch. I prepare my fists. Anger melts the ice in my veins.

  I am fire.

  The doors open wide. I expect both his hands to grab me and pull me out, roughly wrapping my arms behind my back. Instead, he holds out a hand as if politely offering to help me step out. I do not take it. I spring from my crouch and do some kick-boxing moves, a side kick to his groin, a front kick to his knee, all while trying to take in the details of my surroundings so I can take off in the best direction to escape this madness. Daylight burns through me. How far and how long away from home am I?

  He stands there, unfazed and undamaged. He blocks every move and gently grasps my wrists, holding my arms together.

  We are in a gated area within a forest. A topless cage made of black, iron rods. Only they're not just black. They flash green like my necklace's stone. The forest spreads far beyond what I can see. It's not a normal forest. It's ethereal in a way. Bright. Golden.

  "Here," he says, and hands me a spear. A spear?

  "What the—"

  "You need to train to fight, and I need to train you."

  I narrow my eyes. "The only person I want to fight is you." I grab the spear and aim it at his heart
.

  His lips turn up on the left side and a burst of a breathy laugh escapes him, as though I've surprised him. "Good. I'm the one you need to fight in training."

  A spear materializes in his hands. I gasp.

  His voice is tight and displeased, but he says, "We have time for three questions. Go."

  "Where are we?"

  "Training grounds. Where warriors learn to fight."

  "Who are you?"

  He narrows his eyes at me. Takes a deep breath. "Your guardian angel. Also your trainer."

  "You're my guardian angel?"

  "Yes."

  "What are you training me for?"

  "Sorry, that was your fourth question." He raises his spear. "Have at me," he orders.

  I don't move.

  "Distracted? Not good, Angel."

  "Your spear came out of thin air. That's not possible."

  He lunges, and though I wasn't in a stance ready to fight, I pivot out of harm's way. Then I jab with my spear and cut off another attempt at him stabbing my side.

  "I'm never distracted."

  "Good reflexes." He jabs. "See if you can focus now." The wind picks up and the leaves in the trees rustle, filling the gated forest with thousands of whispers, like the trees are breathing and sighing and critiquing me.

  "What on earth? Did you...?" I narrow my eyes. No, I am focused.

  I get in an athletic stance, crouch down, and creep forward, ready. I try to lift the heavy spear over my head, tip aimed at him. Up, up, it goes. Ugh. I get ready to throw it, and am almost knocked off my feet. This thing is weighted. It’s as heavy as the beam I lifted in the diner, though it's a fifth of the width. Even with my recent newfound muscular strength, I can barely hold it up for more than a few seconds, much less launch it. I want to hurt him. I want to run.

  "Seriously?" he taunts, all traces of laughter gone. He looks as though I'm the imbecile child he's been left to babysit, when what he really wants to do is go off with his friends. "Focus won't be enough to get you through this fight. You have zero know-how. Zero skill."

  "Well, it is my first time with a spear! And I think I deserve way more than three questions. Are you afraid to say too much, or what?" I let the spear drop down, holding it in front of me like a barbell, my arms on fire from ramming them on the van walls and the exertion of jabbing it at him twice already. "What fight are you even talking about? Who the heck fights with spears? And what about the choice you gave me? Not that you care, but I. Chose. No! You kidnapped me."

  He walks over, ignores my words, sets his spear down, and reaches for my arms. I jolt and step back. No way is he going to touch me. He's all black hair, flashing eyes, and sure movements. He's my age and yet ancient all at once, impatient and irritated. I can't stand him.

  "Relax." He reaches again. "I didn't kidnap you. I saved you." Frozen with confusion, I hesitate, and he takes my wrists to reposition my hands on the spear.

  "Saved me? You threw me in the back of a van. Ever heard of a passenger seat? It seems to me the only person I'm in danger from is you. Let me go home. My family needs me."

  His eyes rise from my hands to my face. His hands are cool and firm on mine. Calm, confident. He's got these olive-green eyes, and right now they are looking deeply into mine, like he's trying to talk to me without using words. "Did you not see the demons swarm us in the parking lot? They're after you, Angel. The full ER, the accidents, the violence? It's because of you. The inside of the hospital is guarded well enough for now, and your family is safe, more than I can say for the rest of your town, or this world." His face shows nothing, no emotion. A moment later, however, anger washes over it and he squeezes my hands, pushing at me before walking away with his spear. Over his shoulder, he says, "My name is Nicholas. Your family needs you here. When you're ready to take care of them the way you need to, I'll take you home."

  I narrow my eyes and tighten my lips, glaring at him. "You're trying to scare me with nonsense." Though there was something in the parking lot. "In case you didn't notice, I have no home to go home to, and if you keep me here, it won't get rebuilt. My family needs me there."

  "You need to stop talking and do what I say." He aims his spear at me.

  "How is it you know Cole again? How are you related?" Nicholas. A stranger. A familiar stranger. So odd, so frightening. My guardian angel? Ha! I'm in more danger now that I've met him than I ever was before.

  The only thing he and Cole seem to have in common is their apparent perfection. Not a scar, not a freckle anywhere on their skin. Where Cole is playful, Nicholas is stern. His eyebrows are perpetually furrowed, drawn down toward his eyes like they're attached to the turned-down ends of his lips. If ever I saw his face brighten, I'd fear the end of the world.

  Something flashes in his eyes at the mention of Cole. "Cole doesn't want you to know any of this. If you're confused, you can blame him. Enough. Talking. Hold the spear with your hands positioned like that. Follow my motions."

  How is Cole involved? This guy is infuriating. "Grr." I follow his motions and learn quickly. I'm strong and I'm focused. He never needs to repeat an instruction. The trees have long since hushed and the sun changed position in the sky, but I'm jabbing at him with the spear. It feels good when he needs to move faster and faster to block my throws.

  Yet, he doesn't look impressed.

  "Now, my turn to be on the offensive." His voice is flat, all business.

  Whatever. I can take him. The faster I get through this, the faster I can steal away from him. Take the van and drive myself home. Even if that means knocking him unconscious. I've got this.

  Not. I am on my back within three seconds, spearhead to my throat. I thrust my spear at his to move it away, but it's no use. His strength is so much greater than mine. He tugs at my spear to pull me to my feet. We repeat five more times, each with the same result. I suppose if he were going to hurt me, he would have by now.

  Lying on dirt with stones digging into my back, I look up at him. A backdrop of leafy greens and white sunlight float behind his head. His expression isn't that of victory, but of consternation. He touches the spearhead to my throat.

  "Now, if I were your enemy, you'd be dead. This would be thrust through your throat and I'd pull you up, your head like a marshmallow on a stick." He makes a swift movement and the spear is pushed into the ground, the stick still touching my neck. I tremble. "You don't need to trust me, though this should prove to you, you can, but you do need to listen to me. I'm here to keep you alive. To teach you how to stay alive, and how to keep those you love alive. Even those you don't, who need protecting."

  Once the shock of the spearhead narrowly missing my jugular fades, I'm royally ticked off. I jump to my feet, arrow aimed. I'm sweaty and hungry and beyond furious. I launch my spear and am surprised when it lands in the trunk of a tree. Trying not to show the small speck of pride at my strength, I put my hands on my hips.

  I turn to Nicholas. "I. Am. Done. This is crazy. You are crazy. I have no enemies. You either live in an alternate world, one that I'm not a part of, or you've got the wrong girl."

  He steps up to me slowly until his nose touches my forehead when he tips his face down. "Oh, I have the right girl, and you do have enemies."

  -23-

  No sooner does he say this than we are knocked into darkness. The cage is surrounded by black smoke that covers the white sun's rays. It swirls, gathers together, and separates out, as if waltzing outside the black iron. The shadows and smoke lower to the ground until tendrils wrap around the rods, like hands prying and poking to get in.

  "Let me guess," I say dryly, belying my anxiety and confusion. "My enemies?"

  He moves to shield me so I am between him and the van. His spear takes on a fiery glow, as does mine sticking out of the tree. "Some of them." The look he throws me shows no fear, but beyond that I can't read it.

  I don't know if this shenanigan is more of his games, like the whispering trees, or a real threat. Am I on some movie set? He's totally playing
with me. That has to be it. And yet, this feels real enough I can't stop the fear from shaking my bones.

  The rods of our cage also take on a glow that grows into brilliant yellow-golden flames.

  "Wha—" I whisper, as the shrieks and groans of the near-infiltrating smoke sounds, echoing and throbbing in my brain. I cover my ears. My shoulder blades twinge again, pain stabbing through my back like daggers. I cringe.

  "Don't fight the pain, Julia. Relax and it will help you fight with me," Nicholas, in ready-stance, whispers. I know how well I do on the defensive, so I can't wait to fight all this black smoke, when I couldn't even fight a guy I could see and touch. Quicker than a flash, Nicholas flits to the tree and back again with my spear in hand. "Take this." He thrusts the fiery weapon at me.

  I grab it, flinching, expecting it to be hot. It's surprisingly cool despite its blaze. "What's going on? What is that black stuff?"

  "They can't get in. Don't worry."

  They? I don't see anything even remotely human in form. "You're worried." I check the perimeter to see we're still alone in this part of the forest near the tall iron rods. "And your worry is worrying me." Knowing that he is my only ally right now does nothing to ease the fear creeping through my veins. "Besides, this is your fault. You're the one who brought me here. Save me, my ass. Besides, if they can't get in, why are we ready to fight them?"

  "Something's not right. They shouldn't be able to be here. To get in. They're getting stronger." He looks at me. "Like I told Cole, it was time for you to know and to train."

  He turns his face away. In the shadowy light, I see his jaw clench. He mumbles words I can't hear, either because his tone is so low or because he speaks a language I can't understand. Whatever he said, we are joined by others. Men, boys, and women, all wielding flaming swords, spears, and arrows. They surround us. I'm the center of a circle of warriors. Some wear clothing out of a history museum, like ancient Spartans, others athletic clothing from any modern sporting store. They are all six feet or larger, covered in muscle and looks of fury. Their lips snarl, and I am truly hoping the right side of this war has claimed me for its own.