The Siren (Laments of Angels & Dark Chemistry Book 1)

by Meg Xuemei X

  But they both knew without Ashburn’s lightning, she’d never have put down Seraphen.

  Ashburn looked at Lucienne, then his protector, and back to her again. A blur of emotions ripped across his face—fear, enchantment, remorse, self-loathing, desire, and then pain. She had never seen him so vulnerable, and in such pain. She’d lost people she loved over the course of her life, but she knew it was the first time he had lost someone. Even though that someone was her fatal enemy, she respected his sadness.

  She owed him her life. This boy believed she would be his ultimate demise, and yet he let her see into his dark memories. He had exposed his weakness to her. Choosing her cost the life of his only protector, the one who could shield him from any danger, from the world itself. From everyone but her. At the brink of life and death, he put her above himself. And he called himself a monster.

  Lucienne sat on her heels beside Ashburn. All her walls tumbled down. She leaned toward him, reaching for him. “Ash,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

  Ashburn dropped his resistance and pulled Lucienne into his arms. The magnetic forces finally pulled them together.

  Her body arched and curved toward him, responding to his touch like a fiddle under its masterful fingers. Wind, light, and heat pushed through her, and then the world, the battlefield, her wounded soldiers, her fear and responsibilities fell behind her. Right here, right now, Lucienne saw only Ashburn Fury.

  “I feel I’ve been waiting for you my whole life,” Ashburn said as he leaned down to kiss her.

  Fear and desire seized Lucienne. She remembered another kiss, the kiss of disaster. “No, I can’t . . . you can’t,” she said, but she wanted that kiss more than anything—at that moment she wanted it more than her life and his life together.

  “Trust me,” Ashburn said. His lips met hers, pressed hard. There was little tenderness, only raw passion. His mouth scorched hers, demanding, powerful, and desperate, amid the smoke and fire and bodies that littered the battlefield around them.

  Lucienne slid a hand through Ashburn’s silvery hair. A bridge of light flew across the wild river, connecting the two sides. Lucienne sensed what Ashburn sensed, and his wanting and needing became hers. Everything was clear now—he had always wanted her, from first sight, from the beginning. Ashburn’s kiss deepened; his desire ignited hers. It was the kiss of the fires from heaven and hell, and with it, she felt all the rightness, and at the same time, all the wrongness of it.

  Lucienne felt she was going to go up in flames. Still, she clung to him. She had lost herself and didn’t care. All she ever wanted was to want Ashburn, and that unleashed want, so intense and unnatural, made her every nerve begin to burn and ache.

  And most wonderful of all was that Ashburn didn’t collapse. Her kiss was meant for him, reserved for him. For him alone.

  Someone called her name, a voice like a drowning man adrift in the ocean. Lucienne sensed a deep shadow, and in its center was a newly conscious mind that contained great pain. A beating heart bled amid broken pieces. Its anguish was so enormous and bottomless that it shot to her like arrows of ice.

  Vladimir, bloody, rose in time to see the passionate kiss.

  The world swirled back to Lucienne.

  “Vlad?” Her joy soared. Her Vladimir was alive! Then shame and guilt bombarded her like a rain shower, drenching her cold and wet. How was it possible for her to forget about Vladimir, Kian, and her men lying dead and injured in the middle of the battlefield while losing herself in Ashburn’s smoldering kiss?

  Mortified, Lucienne touched the bottom of her swollen lip and wrenched away from Ashburn with the heat of passion still coursing through her veins.

  Vladimir looked at her as if she had just eaten his heart. The light in his hazel eyes went out completely. They looked as dead as Seraphen’s. Vladimir averted his lifeless gaze from Lucienne as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her, but reserved one last glance of pure hatred for Ashburn, before stumbling away.

  Worse than the kiss of betrayal was learning the brutal fact that she could kiss another boy without injuring him. “Vlad, I . . . I’m sorry.” The words tore out of Lucienne’s burning throat. Her hands reaching out, she moved toward him. “I can . . . explain.”

  Vladimir held his bleeding hand in the air as if warding off the fiend from hell and fled from her. New hurt sailed to Lucienne’s eyes. She quickened her pace, going after Vladimir, but then, stirring arose around her—groans of pain and angry curses. Some of the survivors had gained consciousness and struggled to get up. This wasn’t the time to chase after Vladimir and beg him to listen, to forgive her. The wounded warriors needed her now. Some managed to stand and stagger toward her, still endeavoring to protect her. Some lay dead; others dying.

  Lucienne watched Vladimir head toward the smoke-covered mountain and decided it would be best to try to talk to him later. It’d be a long conversation. She turned to Ashburn, who didn’t look sorry at all. He watched her watching Vladimir with a grim expression, then averted his dusky gray eyes to Seraphen. Unable to bear looking at his protector’s corpse either, he rested his eyes upon the mountains.

  Lucienne bit her lip. She would not let boy trouble get in the way of caring for her warriors. She dropped to Duncan’s side to check on him. “Reinforcements are coming,” she said, removing his impact vest to help him breathe easier. “I order you to hang in there!”

  “As long as it takes!” Duncan’s eyes glazed over Lucienne’s. “Is Orlando . . . really gone?”

  “And Cam, too. And others,” Lucienne said remorsefully, turning away as tears blurred her sight.

  “Vladimir?” Duncan asked.

  “He is . . .” Lucienne said as blocks of ice submerged her heart. “He’s okay.” She gently squeezed the warrior’s uninjured hand. “I’ll come back after I’ve checked on the others.”

  Ashburn drew near Lucienne. “I have a medical databank inside me. I can help.”

  “If you want to help, find Kian for me,” Lucienne said. “Do you have his memory?” She grabbed Ashburn’s sleeve in desperation.

  “He’s coming to you.” Ashburn pointed at a mountain. Lucienne followed the line of his finger and saw Kian, tattered and bloody, limping down the mountain.

  “Kian!” Lucienne choked, breaking into a dead run toward him. Kian dragged himself down the mountain trail as fast as he could manage.

  An approaching aircraft boomed in the mountains. A second later, a fighter emerged. Lucienne stopped in her tracks. “It’s a MiG-25, one of the fastest fighter planes in the world,” she whispered, and her face went white. “But it’s not ours. How does it know about us here? And how could it have gotten here so quickly?” She waved at the warriors frantically. “Take cover!”

  “It came for Vladimir,” Ashburn called. “He’s leaving you.”

  Of course, Vladimir’s thoughts had turned to memories, and Ashburn had read them. Blood drained from Lucienne’s face. She looked around for Vladimir and finally spotted him, a small figure now, at the far end of the plain. Lucienne raced toward him, but her legs weren’t fast enough to get to him before the MiG-25 did.

  “Vlad, no! Wait! Vladimir Blazek, you can’t! You can’t just leave!” Lucienne screamed, willing her legs to move faster. Vladimir turned to look at her, but he was too far away for her to see his expression. Helplessly, she watched him climb into the co-pilot’s seat.

  “Vlad, please don’t. Don’t leave me behind!” Lucienne begged. She’d do anything to make him stay. She was so sorry for what she had done to him. She wanted to tell him that she’d wronged him greatly and would make up to him. The fighter’s metal canopy sealed shut. The silvery bird took off and vanished from view.

  Lucienne crumpled to the ground, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed in utter heartbreak. The world before her now was formlessly bleak. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but Kian was at her side, pulling her into his arms, stroking her hair, as she wept.

  “
Shush, let him go,” Kian coaxed. “He needs some space.”

  “He can have his space in Sphinxes.”

  “He cannot, not after he saw—”

  Lucienne then realized Kian had also seen her and Ashburn kissing from the mountain. “I’ll get him back.” She jerked away from Kian, looking up at him, clench-jawed. “We never leave a soldier behind!”

  “That’s a mission for another day, kid,” Kian said.

  “Who is his secret ally?” Lucienne demanded, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

  “You do know Vladimir had his own connections before he joined forces with you, don’t you?” Kian said. “And consider his uncle’s network. The old duke would be very happy to welcome his heir back, especially after the boy spent the past three years inside the Siren’s tight circle. The intel he has is highly valuable to any party.”

  “You think he’ll betray me?”

  “He might think you betrayed him.”

  “Even so, he’ll not sell me out,” Lucienne said. “I know Vladimir.” She also realized her team trusted him enough to let him go.

  “I hope so. If he turns on you, I’ll hunt him to the corners of the earth.”

  “I can’t think straight. My mind is like messy threads. Can’t find the beginning. Can’t find the end. Can’t—”

  “Then don’t find anything, and don’t worry about the Czech boy for now.” Kian looked around. Two aircrafts from Sphinxes landed not far from them. “The reinforcements have arrived. We need to tend to our wounded.”

  “Orlando is gone, so are Cam, Gideon, Matthew . . .” Lucienne said, and her tears came back in full force. “The strike was meant for me. Orlando took it.” She looked at Kian desperately, as if by staring into the eyes of her mentor, she could bring Orlando and others back.

  The muscles in Kian’s jaw twisted tightly. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. The grief in his hard sapphire eyes weighed heavier than the war.

  “You killed Seraphen, the angel?” he finally said.

  “Yes, but he’s no angel.”

  “Doesn’t matter. He’s dead. Well done, my Siren.” But the pride in Kian’s eyes didn’t lessen his pain and grief. The wound in his head opened again, blood streaming down the side of his face.

  That brought Lucienne’s sense of reality back. She looked him over. He had severe burns across his shoulders, and he’d been wounded from the side of his left thigh to his knee. His ragged pants couldn’t cover the injury. Lucienne had shut everything out once Vladimir left her. How could she be so selfish as to focus only on her own anguish?

  She turned and shouted. “Medics!”

  A military medic rushed toward Kian and Lucienne with emergency kits in his hands. Two commandos followed him. Ziyi, in her shiny qipao and high heels, sprang after them.

  “I’m all right.” Kian waved the medic away. “Look for those who are worse.”

  “Nonsense!” Lucienne said. “You’re wounded badly. I don’t want you to lose too much blood or get an infection.”

  The medic knelt beside Kian, checking him. “It’s bad, Mr. McQuillen. We’ll need to get you to the surgical room in Sphinxes.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Kian glared at the medic.

  “Take him now. And ship anyone who needs immediate care to Sphinxes too,” Lucienne ordered. “And I swear on my life, Kian McQuillen, you’ll be the first one on that plane.”

  The two commandos supported Kian by his shoulders and carried him to the Snow Eagle, supervised by Lucienne. “You’re no use to me here with an injury like that,” she said. “And, remember, when a warrior is injured in the field, he must stay in bed and listen to his doctor.” She planted a kiss on Kian’s forehead before the soldiers dragged him aboard the plane. “Make no more trouble.”

  When the injured had been taken care of, Lucienne turned to Ziyi. The girl had been strangely quiet. “Why did you come, Ziyi? You can’t stand the sight of blood.”

  “I wanted to be here for you,” Ziyi said. “I couldn’t stand seeing you . . . broken like that.”

  “Why didn’t you warn me an aircraft was coming for Vladimir?” Lucienne asked. Her anger had resided, but the sharp pain stayed. It was like a blunt force tearing away parts of her, and she wondered if this wound would ever heal. “I know Ashburn didn’t block Dragonfly. If you had told me, I could have stopped Vlad from leaving.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ziyi choked with a sob. “But he was a train wreck. I’ve never seen him like that. I know it broke your heart, but it won’t help if he stayed.”

  “How do you know if it helps or not?” Lucienne hissed. “It’s not for you to decide. It’s not for anyone to decide. It’s for me to decide!”

  “I consulted Kian. I told him I wouldn’t tell you about Vladimir’s departure. It’s for the best, for both you and Vladimir. He’ll need space. No matter how many times you break his heart, he’d still come back to you. That’s how in love he is with you. And to be fair, it was his decision. We all saw you and . . .” Ziyi’s eyes darted toward Ashburn, who was watching Lucienne.

  Even after the battle, even amid all the wreckage, he still looked incredible and otherworldly beautiful. Ziyi stared at Ashburn in wonder, lost in thoughts and lacking words. When Lucienne tapped the girl’s shoulder to bring her back to reality, Ziyi stuttered, “Don’t be mad at me, Lucia. I can’t bear it. This is the saddest day. So many of our people died.” She moved closer to Lucienne and hugged the regal girl.

  Lucienne’s body was stiff, and she tried to shove Ziyi off, but her friend clung to her as if holding on for dear life, until the Siren stopped pushing. Lucienne bent down and buried her face in Ziyi’s purple hair and cried with her friend.

  When Lucienne recomposed herself, she went to each dead soldier to say farewell. She knelt beside each one, her hand closing his eyes if they were open, and quietly mourned. At each, Ashburn crouched beside her, telling her each of her warrior’s happiest memories.

  Lucienne stayed with Orlando the longest.

  CHAPTER 23

  Her hands hugging her legs, Lucienne sat on the rooftop of the Ghost House, watching the sun slowly drop toward the distant ring of mountains. The roof was made of the same material as the pillar entrance to the Rabbit Hole. Its ice-like sheen gave the illusion that one might fall through it.

  The town stretched under her feet. Its gardens had regained some of their previous colors, powered by Ashburn’s TimeDust, but the faded greens and oranges indicated that Nirvana would never fully return to its former glory. Everything had changed.

  She had lost thirty-nine good, loyal men. The warriors’ bodies were shipped back to Sphinxes. The mechanics and engineers were wrapping up the repairs on BL7—in a few hours, it would be good enough to take off, and Lucienne and the remaining team would go home in the wake of bitter memories.

  Her mind drifted to the voice that came to her through her Siren’s mark twice—once, when she almost killed Ashburn and again when she was nearly killed by Seraphen. Whatever the force represented, it wanted to preserve both her and Ashburn. Ashburn’s words resonated in her head. “It’s how the TimeDust was designed—to put us together, so we’ll bring the end to the world.”

  She doubted it. What was the significance of her and Ashburn being together? She was meant to introduce Eterne to Earth. But what if opening the portal unleashed the ultimate evil, and she led humankind to a slaughterhouse instead of quantum evolution?

  A movement behind her shattered her train of thought. She knew who it was without turning to look. The pulse of energy in the air told her.

  Ashburn had come to say goodbye.

  Lucienne had finally chosen to let him go. If she could have done that in the beginning, her warriors would still be alive, and Orlando wouldn’t be buried under six feet of Sphinxes’ soil. Jed said sacrifice was necessary. The Siren had to do whatever it took to get things done and needed to make impossibly tough decisions. But to what end?

  “It’s not all your fault.” Ash
burn said beside her. “No matter what you did, you would cross paths with Seraphen. You’re the Siren, and his assignment is to protect me by erasing you.”

  “After the sunset,” Lucienne said, “my men and I will leave for good.”

  “I know,” Ashburn said, looking sidelong at her, and Lucienne felt his body heat. It called her to respond, but she remained still. “I’m going with you,” he added.

  Lucienne held her breath for several seconds and exhaled. “Okay,” she said.

  “Aren’t you going to ask why?” he asked. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

  Despite everything, a smile floated to Lucienne’s lips. “I guess you finally decided it isn’t such a bad idea to see the outside world.”

  “I have the entire world, from antiquity till now, in my head, and Spike can take me anywhere I want to go,” Ashburn said. “I choose to go with you because I can’t bear not to see you. I tried to stay away from you before, but it didn’t end well. Even though the subprogram still warns me, all I can think of is you. I’m going to try to let my feelings run their course, so my desire won’t drive me mad. I hope it’ll wear off if I don’t fight it so hard.”

  “I tried to kill you, Ash.”

  “You stopped at the last moment. You couldn’t do it,” he said. “And when I had to watch Seraphen try to kill you and I could do nothing about it, I felt—” He looked away, as if he was experiencing the agony again.

  Lucienne angled her body toward Ashburn and put her hand in his. The shock of desire immediately rose in her. Lucienne jerked her hand away. She couldn’t withstand another temptation. She’d learned she wasn’t half as strong as she thought. “Ash—”

  “If you die, the whole world won’t matter anymore,” Ashburn continued. “I know it’s horrible and selfish to think like that. How can one girl outweigh every life on this planet? But I just can’t help it. I’ll fight the TimeDust by your side. Besides,” he paused, a wistful look on his face, “my parents are better off without me.”

  A wave of feeling came to Lucienne like a rainstorm striking a glass pane. It was hard to say it, but she must. “You know I won’t get involved with you romantically, right?”