Rising Ashes

by Annie Anderson

  10

  Can I Pass Out Now?

  VOYT

  Traveling injured is not my favorite thing in the world to do. It isn’t even in the top ten. Or twenty. Or three million. Traveling injured is taking an already agonizing activity and making it black-out-from-pain awful. Three weeks in Walter’s care is probably what hell feels like. It makes me never ever want to fuck up so royally that I have to go to hell, because fuck. I think I’d rather intentionally set myself on fire.

  It’s my own fault. I should have been better at the stealth. I should have been able to talk these guys around, and if I couldn’t do that, then I had to figure out what the game was and see what I could do to stop it since West was stuck in that cell because of me. I had a week. One single week to try and get as much info as I could to give to Evangeline.

  I failed and got myself caught.

  Now that I’m out, I have no idea what I am supposed to do other than tell Evangeline everything. And pray she doesn’t kill me.

  Jesus Christ on a fucking crutch, Kyle is the heaviest person I have ever carried, and I pray I never have to do it again. It took me three tries to get myself and Kyle to Mena and fifteen to reach that fucking doorbell once I got us to her front fucking porch. I’m just lucky I remembered where she was looking to buy a house, or I would be worse than fucked.

  I’d be dead.

  It’s freezing this high up the mountain, and given the fact that I’m wearing a pair of three-weeks-long soiled jeans and nothing else does absolutely zilch in the way of making this any better. The door opens after what seems like an eternity on this damn porch and Asher sees Kyle and immediately drags him inside.

  What the fuck am I, chopped liver?

  It’s hard for me to talk and has been for some time. I’d been screaming quite a bit over the last few weeks, and the last time I screamed it felt like I was swallowing glass. I haven’t tried talking, and I don’t want to. I’ve had enough pain thank you very much.

  It takes me ten more tries to reach the damn doorbell from my slumped position on rust-colored porch planks. They’re half-hearted swats at the freaking thing, but I can’t bring myself to try harder. My light is going out, but I need to figure out a way to tell them what happened.

  I need to figure out where West went.

  I need to…

  I need to…

  When the door opens again, Mena is the one to grab me under my armpits and drag me into the foyer of a modest, but elegant mountain house. But the foyer floor is freezing – still warmer than the frigid temperature outside – and I need to tell her…

  When her burning hot hand touches my shoulder, I flinch away from the warmth. My body so cold it can’t handle even the slight heat of her hand. But then the warmth floods through me – easing aches I’d long forgotten about, loosening my throat and mending the awful tearing of my vocal chords. Her enormous power is not enough – not right now anyway – to heal all of it, and the ease of so many aches and so long without sleep and nourishment takes its toll, and I speak the first words that have passed my lips in weeks.

  “Get Evangeline,” I say, my voice odd to my own ears, and that is all I am able to get out before my consciousness dims into nothing and I pass out right there on that cold fucking tile.

  MENA

  Not one, but two Wraiths passed out in my foyer.

  Fuck a damn duck.

  “Rally everyone. Bring them here. Can you call Aurelia? She and Rhys can drive over. I don’t like her traveling in her condition,” I tell Asher before he even has to ask. I love when I don’t need him to ask, I can just read the expression on his face. It helps when the shit hits the fan.

  Kinda like right about now.

  I get a nod and a brief but scorching kiss before he smokes out from the room, off to get the rest of the family here.

  I loathe that I am not able to communicate in this modern world. There has to be something I can do that won’t A) burn the house down or B) fry every electronic component this side of the Colorado River. Maybe if I bleed enough healing, I could do something… The thought has merit, and it couldn’t hurt Kyle or Voyt. By the looks of them, they need it.

  Kyle is the better off of the two, but not by very much. The slice in his cheek started closing as soon as I touched him, so the loss of consciousness is probably the dire need for sleep. If there were anyone who knows what prolonged torture is like, it is me.

  Both shirtless, it is easy to see that the starvation torture tactic was favored which just pisses me off. I’ve never met Kyle before, but I can tell he used to be something. His height is probably closer to seven feet than six and by the look at his bare feet, he’d need a shoe the size of a damn boat. Jet black hair and beard that has gone long past mountain-man and straight into hermit in the woods land. For such a large man, he shouldn’t be as emaciated as he is. I’ll get Aurelia started on that as soon as she gets here.

  Voyt, however, is in a bad way. The slight beard on his face and the fact that I just saw him three weeks ago tells me he was interred for a much shorter time than Kyle, but the damage done to him is significant. Voyt had much less meat to lose, and he looks like a skeleton. His already sharp cheekbones have turned knife-edged, and when he spoke, I could tell his time screaming must have been considerable.

  I remember screaming. I remember ripping my vocal chords to shit but being unable to stop screaming anyway. I fucking hate evil people.

  His skin is nearly freezing, and I need to move them both from the cold tile and get them somewhere warm. I take Voyt first because he has so much less meat on his bones and needs the warmth first. I’m so happy no one is here to see me pick him up and cradle him like a baby in my arms as I carry him to the right side of the sectional in the living room. I would hate for anyone to see him in this state, and I would hate for anyone to make fun of him.

  No one knows better than me the power you lose. The shame you feel at not only being caught in a spider’s web but all the things you begged for, all the things you promised the Fates you’d do to get out, all the things you swore you’d never do just to be free. Those are the wounds that never heal. Those are the ones that when even the slightest offhand insult can cause a world of hurt.

  And I can’t have that for these men.

  I pick up Kyle next and due to his size and considerable weight – even emaciated as he is – I need to fireman carry him to the couch. Once I have them positioned as comfortably as I can, I scurry to find our thick mink blankets and pillows. Then I start a fire. I’m sweating and the house is nearly sweltering, but they need it. Starting a fire is easy for me, obviously, but it took some time to control my Fireskin enough to not have it run all over my body. Aurelia knew how to control hers before we were even at maturity. Controlling anything other than my Aegis as a child was something I lacked.

  Aurelia and Rhys are the first to arrive, and since they live less than ten minutes away, this isn’t surprising. She barely bundled up to the elements outside, wearing only black leggings and a thin sapphire, open-weave sweater tunic over a black camisole and I give Rhys my best ‘are you fucking kidding me’ glare. Mostly because she’s not wearing any shoes or socks.

  “I know. I tried,” he says as he holds up his arm which is laden down with her parka, thick, woolen socks, and boots.

  That’s it.

  “Aurelia Corrine Constantine, I swear to all that is holy if you do not start making sure your health is priority number one, I’m going to make you regret it! You. Are. Pregnant. You know it. Rhys knows it. Everyone fucking knows it. Phoenixes don’t get sick. We don’t get the flu or food poisoning or goddamn car sickness. There is no other reason you’d be throwing up so much. Stop being in damn denial and accept the fact that you are carrying a child and need to tailor your behaviors accordingly. Now, put on the fucking socks,” I yell, finishing my tirade on a scream loud enough to rattle the windows and wake the dead.

  Her surprised face tells me she didn’t even consider this a possibil
ity, but she holds her hand out to Rhys for the socks, unseeingly sitting on the closest armchair to slip them on her feet.

  Mission accomplished.

  I go over to her, crouching down in front of her chair to see her face better. I grasp her shoulders until her eyes come to me, and when they finally meet mine they are filled with tears.

  “You’re sure?” she says in a small voice, and it is a voice laced with hope.

  “Yes, big sister. I’m sure. But we can have Ian check if you need him too.”

  “That would be great,” she says nodding.

  I feel her body draw on my Aegis a bit, not a lot, just a tiny bit, and it hits me. She’s tired and stressed, and this little pull tells me more about her health than any silly blood test or sonogram would.

  “And I don’t know how to break this to you, but I’m pretty sure you’re having twins,” I whisper lowly, but not low enough.

  “What?” Rhys breathes before his eyes roll back in his head, and he falls out, luckily landing on the plush area rug and barely avoiding the hand-carved solid oak end table Asher carved last week.

  Three men down.

  Fuck a damn duck.

  11

  Absolutely Not

  EVAN

  I’m going to lose my fucking mind.

  Nope.

  I’m sure I’ve already lost it.

  I’m standing in the middle of Mena and Asher’s new house with my hands on my hips waiting for someone to start talking sense. Voyt and Kyle are finally awake and propped up on several pillows on the wide-cushioned dark, buttery leather sectional. They are shoveling in heaping spoonfuls of Aurelia’s broccoli-cheddar-bacon-chicken soup, and as soon as she sees the bottom of their bowls, she whisks them away before they can ask for a refill. She has gone into full-scale mother hen mode, and I know why.

  In this room, I am one of the few who haven’t undergone torture. I’m one of the lucky ones and burns in the back of my throat that these men were treated this way. That they were hurt on my fucking watch. It also makes me wish I would have ripped Walter’s throat out when I had the chance.

  But the more they try and talk me into going to get West, the more I want to scream. The more I hear why he was doing what he was doing, the more I want to slap the shit out of him. In the back of my mind, I know he did this out of love.

  I know this. I do.

  Maybe.

  But it just shows how little he valued what I had to say. How little he trusted me to know what was best. How little he believed I could handle this throne on my own.

  “He was doing it to keep you safe, Evangeline. That’s why he wouldn’t mate you,” Voyt pleads, his voice a sharp gravel he didn’t have before.

  “No. He did this because he didn’t trust me. He never has,” I whisper the painful truth, and it is the most honest thing I’ve ever said about him. Because if he wanted to wait, why did he just say that? Why didn’t he tell me why instead of just changing the subject or putting me off?

  It’s not like I’m some ring-starved co-ed begging their boyfriend of three months to put a damn ring on it. I’m his fucking mate.

  But he didn’t trust me with the truth. Not really.

  West Carmichael has never trusted me, and that pill is the hardest to swallow. Never. No matter that I gave him everything in me. My thoughts, my dreams, my ideas, my body, my love. Everything I had to give.

  And now there is nothing left.

  “He did. I swear. He just wanted you safe,” Rhys’ voice rumbles behind me.

  “I didn’t need him to keep me safe. I can do that for myself. I just needed him to trust. Just once know that I could do it myself. You can’t love someone you don’t trust, and this is once again proof that he never loved me.”

  “Are you just going to let him rot?” Voyt asks incredulously, ripping the blanket off his legs and moving to stand. Aurelia nips it in the bud before he can put a hand to the cushion to heft himself up, leveling him with a look that could fry the paint off a car. She’s not letting him go anywhere.

  “No, she isn’t going to let him rot. Sit your skinny ass down and eat some bread,” she says handing him a chunk of fresh sourdough. The smell of it must be good because he begrudgingly takes and bite while giving her a petulant look.

  “All this bitching about West is not getting me my mate back,” Kyle’s pissed off growl resonates through the room.

  His face is gaunt behind months of beard growth and filth, but his eyes are bright and shining. He has hope for her, and my sad eyes just piss him off.

  “She’s not dead. My Nicola is a fighter. No way is she going to let that bitch win. We might have disrupted them. She might be okay. She has to be. I’d feel it. I would. I’d feel it if she were gone,” his voice frantic with blind hope. He doesn’t even believe himself, though, because this big bear of a man breaks – great gasping howls of agony rip up from his throat. Cam puts a comforting hand on his shoulder in a show of support, and it just proves once again that Cam is someone who knows loss.

  “She did it for me, you know? That slimy fucker said he was going to kill me, and she knew. She knew he meant it. That’s the only reason she’d do that. The only reason she’d allow it. She’s been watching them torture me for months. But I told her. I told her I would take it. I would take it to my end if it meant she didn’t let them put that fucking monster in her. But they were going to kill me… I told her no. I told her no. Why did she do that?” he asks, and I know the answer.

  Because she loved him.

  If Nicola didn’t survive it, how could West? They said he was the worst off of the lot. He could be gone…

  The thought runs through my brain, and the stab of fiery pain rips through my chest. He may have never loved me, but I still love him despite my best efforts.

  No. I won’t let him rot. Whether he loves me or not, I still love him, and that is enough to pull his ass out of the flames.

  “We’ll get them back, Kyle. I’ll do everything in my power to get them back. I swear to you. I will,” I promise as I kneel down in front of his perch on the couch.

  “This might make me the pragmatic asshole of the group, but the question has to be asked. Have they passed? Because I’m not risking the Queen’s life for a dead man, I don’t care if I have to hog tie you and stuff you in a closet,” Aidan says, his eyes boring into mine with enough force that I know he means it.

  It doesn’t matter if he means it or not, and it doesn’t matter if West is alive or dead. Walter Emerson is going to fucking die tonight, that is for damn certain. I flash my fangs at Aidan, so he knows I don’t take kindly to his threat.

  To help stave off the fight that is about to break out in the middle of the living room, Aurelia butts in.

  “I haven’t seen them pass if that helps,” she says.

  “Good. We’re going. Get your shit and let’s go,” I order and almost everyone starts moving – including Kyle.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa there, hoss. You’re going nowhere. Sit your big ass down,” Aurelia tells him, crossing the room to put a hand on his shoulder, holding him down and he’s having a hard time not throwing it off of him and leaving. His face isn’t petulant – it is lethal.

  A feral growl rips up Rhys’ throat, but Aurelia lays a calming hand on his chest holding him off as she turns back to Kyle.

  “Don’t look at me like that, mister. I can’t go either.”

  “Why can’t you go?” I ask, hearing the thread of panic in my own voice. I need her. I need her with me. I need her so much right now.

  “I’m knocked up, kiddo. I love you more than anyone, but I’m not risking my children for anyone or anything. Sorry, baby girl,” Aurelia explains, her eyes pleading me to understand.

  And I do.

  She wouldn’t ever say it, but losing her child was the worst day of her life. She would have gladly taken torture, death, anything. And now that she…

  “Wait, what? Pregnant? Child-ren?” I ask baffled. I knew she was sick, but I ju
st thought… I don’t know what I thought, but pregnancy never crossed my mind.

  “Evidently, Phoenixes don’t get sick. Ever. The only reason I’d be throwing up is if I either broke a bone – which I haven’t – or if I’m knocked up. I have it on good authority I am expecting twins. You missed it when Rhys passed out. It was hilarious,” she explains, smiling this beaming grin. Huh. My bestie is having babies. I love it.

  “That… makes sense,” I say, nodding, a smile stretching across my face so fast I think it might crack and I look to Mena. “We’re sharing auntie duties. I don’t want to hear any guff, got it?” I inform her pointing so she knows I mean business. My comment is met with an insolent ‘no shit, Sherlock’ look that is similar to Aurelia’s, it makes me smile. But it fades as soon as the problem at hand comes back to me. West. Nicola. Iva.

  “Glad we got that cleared up. Plan B. Who’s coming?” Cam says irritably.

  “Not me,” Rhys pipes up. “If I get a scratch, she gets a scratch. If I die, I lose both her and the babies. I’m not risking it.”

  Rhys has been her shadow, watching her with more than his usual intensity, and it is starting to make sense. He never thought he would get that with her. Now that the dream is within reach, he’ll do anything not to lose it.

  I don’t blame him, but that leaves us two warriors down. Myself, Aidan, Cam, Carver, Ian, and hopefully Mena and Asher are helping.

  “Everyone else besides Voyt, Kyle, Aurelia & Rhys is coming, right? Anyone else bowing out?” I ask looking around the room. Mena meets my eyes, and I didn’t realize that her expressions are nearly identical to her twin’s. This one says ‘I’m ready to fuck shit up.’ God, I love these women.

  Voyt and Kyle give us a rundown of what they knew of the layout and security measures, and then we load up with the scary amount of blades, firearms, body armor and ammunition stocked in Mena and Asher’s basement.