Rise From the Embers (Lightness Saga #4)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  “Fionna, what’s wrong?” Kennedy’s hands touched my arms, zapping an electric jolt through my arms.

  “Don’t. Touch,” I gritted out, sweat trailing down my temple.

  Struggling, I tried to take a slow breath to ease the intensity. Relax, I demanded my body. Breathe in. Breathe out. Over and over my chest moved methodically, easing the tension in my muscles. Slowly the pain eased, my soul winding protectively around Lars. Mine, it purred.

  My lids opened, my vision hazy, but gradually I could make out faces hovering over me. Brows furrowed, concern crinkling the corners of their eyes.

  “Fi?” Kennedy hesitated to touch my arm.

  “I’m okay.” I groaned, my limbs stiff as I sat up.

  “What the hell just happened?” Ember grabbed my other hand, helping me to my feet. “Seriously, I didn’t know if you were dying or having the best sex of your life.”

  Fatigued, I leaned against the wall, touching my head to keep the room from spinning. “Both.” My hands went to my chest, feeling the weight of his presence. “This is going to sound really unbelievable and strange.”

  “Nothing is ever too strange here.” Eli snorted. “That’s what we deal with best.”

  “Well. Um.” I sucked in oxygen like it was helping me prepare. I pressed my shoulders back into the stone. “Lars is here.”

  “Where is he?” Ember looked around.

  “He’s not here floating around the room, but here.” I tapped at my belly and rib cage.

  “Come again, darlin’?” West folded his arms, cocking an eyebrow.

  “You’re pregnant?” Kennedy’s eyes widened.

  “No!” I responded. “Ah feck, I hope not.” I shook my head. I was not ready for something like that. I needed to be a mother to Piper first. And look how well I was doing with her.

  I cleared my throat, I was usually pretty blunt, but this was personal. Private. “Lars and I aren’t simply together. We…linked…you can say. Found our match. And I guess when demons do that, their souls connect. And I don’t mean figuratively. The bastard is using me as a vessel. I think when he died just now he…entered me.” I smiled, my heart beating in my chest again, the sense of him soothing me. I didn’t want to think about whether this was permanent. If we could get him out or if he would fade away. I was simply happy he was fighting. If he couldn’t do it in his body, he could sure as hell have mine.

  “So…there is a chance he’s still alive.” Ember blinked rapidly, face pointing to the side, her hand going to her necklace, running it back and forth.

  “I think so.” I pushed off the wall. “I will find a way. Whatever I have to do. That demon thinks he can squat here without paying rent?”

  A tiny laugh escaped Ember’s mouth. “And whatever you need. I will do anything to bring him back to us.”

  A strange pulse of love flickered inside me.

  “Okay, that’s going to be frickin’ weird.” My eyes widened.

  “What?” Em asked.

  “Pretty sure Lars just sent his love right back.” Feck, if it didn’t feel as though I were pregnant in some twisted way.

  Everyone eyed me as though I were a freak then dropped their eyes to my stomach.

  “Stop staring at my belly. It’s not as though his head is going to pop out like in Alien.” I stabbed a finger at my gut. “You better not, arsehole.”

  The tension in the room eased, but most looked confused or dazed, as if they were trying come to terms with what just happened. A turmoil of emotions.

  Lars’s sudden presence inside me calmed me. It didn’t feel as odd as it should have. He was home with me. That was all that mattered at the moment.

  “My lady?” Torin stepped into the doorway. “Olivia woke me and said you might need me.”

  “You never get a night off.” Kennedy waggled her head.

  “I took this position to protect you, not to have a night off.” He stood up taller. “Plus, it is almost dawn. My shift starts in a couple of hours anyway.”

  Kennedy stepped for the entry. “Breakfast. Coffee. And planning in fifteen minutes?”

  We all nodded; no one was going to get back to sleep now.

  “Oh, and Fionna?” Kennedy peeked over her shoulder at me. “Bring Lars if you want.”

  “Hilarious.” Like I had a choice.

  “Good morning, Uncle.” Ember touched my stomach with a wink before walking out, emptying the room.

  Another pulse responded inside. This time I could fully feel how Lars felt about her. He wanted her to be his daughter. They both wanted that, but neither wanted to step on any toes or disrespect those who were dead.

  Fuck that, I said. You’re her father. Stop being a wanker and just admit it.

  Pulse.

  “Stubborn arse.”

  Pulse.

  “Okay, you’re getting awfully lippy. Isn’t it time for your nap?”

  I took a step toward the pants I dropped, the room swaying. I gripped the bed frame, keeping myself from falling over again. My legs wobbled with fatigue and my head spun.

  It had been a tough night, emotionally and physically draining. I had slept terribly since the evening the stone took over Lars.

  To rest, I needed Stavros dead, the stone destroyed, my daughter back in my arms, food, Lars returned to his body, in my bed, and a swimming tank full of coffee.

  Nothing out of the ordinary.

  I rubbed my throbbing head. The crisp bite of air kissing the icy lake and surging up to the castle walk filled my lungs but did very little to wake my knackered body.

  The gathering of minds went into the afternoon, planning, plotting, and getting the fuck nowhere. We went around and round, scheming ideas we had no way to control or confront, and planning for alliances’ help we had yet to hear from.

  Lily’s skulk was the only group that responded to the plea and was heading our way from Canada. Rez had yet to hear from the sirens, and there was only radio silence from anyone left of the DLR. Not that I blamed any of them who survived. They’d been through so much loss and anger, much of which was probably pointed at me. Me, the leader against the fae, the one trying to give Druids their voice back, had since fallen in with the exact beings the DLR used to fight against. A traitor to my own cause.

  No matter what I felt for Lars, it still bothered me how easily I had fallen in with the fae. I liked them. I could see now how quick I was to lump them all together. To blame wholly for the atrocities of a few. Hating them was easier—no lines, no gray area.

  Now everything was gray.

  I traveled along the wall, the sky spotted with threatening clouds. The late-spring sun only took a nip off the chilly afternoon air, not that I minded the cold; I was Irish, born and bred. Dreary, rainy, and cold were embedded in my DNA. It usually woke me up, made me feel alive. Today fatigue trailed after me like a shadow.

  Piper.

  Lars.

  The stone.

  Stavros.

  Every one laid upon my shoulders.

  Sounds of men training pounded from the valley. I could feel the tension of guards milling around on constant watch, their hands on their weapons, their bodies alert. The castle guard was wound like a clock, coiled to near snapping.

  All of it ticked inside me as if a bomb were ready to explode. My body was knackered, my mind unable to shut down, my skin itching, as though my bones were trying to dig their way out.

  Gulping in air, I moved across the cobblestones, seeking a place of refuge. A figure in the distance caught my eye as he stood on the bridge, overlooking the deep lake below.

  Goran.

  He stared longingly at the gushing water, his hands gripping the railing, as though at any moment he would impel himself over it.

  “Goran?” I took slow steps toward him. He did not respond to my call. “Goran.” I tried again.

  His fingers tightened around the bar, but otherwise he didn’t react. The aura around him swirled like a melancholy fog—only one emotion I experienced coming from
him. Gloom.

  I stopped beside him, peering over the bridge to the distant churning waterfall; sharp rocks cracked over the surface, slicing the cascading water.

  “You did this to me,” Goran said, his voice low and detached.

  Responsibility for what I had done settled heavily upon me like a weighted blanket. “Yes.” I continued to watch the water. “I did.”

  He was silent for a long time before he spoke again.

  “I long to die. I dream of it. It calls to me every second. With each passing day, the invitation becomes stronger. Every second of life is painful.” Though his statements were intense, no emotion existed behind them, which chilled me. “I am not supposed to be here. I breathe, but I do not live. I should have died next to Rimmon, but I cannot have the thing I desire.”

  I covered my face with my hands. There was no apology card for bringing someone back to life. In the moment, I thought I was doing the best thing. I hadn’t wanted Lars to deal with the fact he had killed his own man. His friend.

  “I live in hell. Every moment.”

  I had kept Olwyn alive decades past her natural life. I had also saved people from almost death, but I had never actually brought someone back from the dead. I didn’t understand the repercussions until now or how the people would suffer.

  “I am sorry.”

  “Your apologies are nothing to me.” He tipped closer into the railing. “I wish you had let me die. At least then it would have been on my own terms.”

  My lids blinked, shoving back the tears filling them.

  “I have tried to end the agony. But I wake up again. My hell does not let me go.”

  “What?” I swiveled to him. “You tried to kill yourself?”

  “To end this nightmare, I would do anything.” His empty blue eyes met mine. “But you have linked me to the earth. To you. I cannot end my own misery.”

  “Shite.” My hand went to my mouth. “I-I didn’t realize.”

  “No. You. Didn’t.”

  Black magic, the art of bringing back a life already lost, was unnatural. Wrong. It went against a Druid’s nature. Yet my family had raised me in black magic, justifying that we had to use every tool to survive when the world tried to destroy us. At the time, I cared very little for the repercussions, especially against fae.

  “I still owe my King what is left of my life, to return him home. Then we will be even. My debt paid.” He turned back to watch the water. “You will kill me after. You owe me that, Druid.”

  I swallowed and nodded. “I do.”

  Goran let out a small breath, as though it were the first bit of relief he had felt in a long time.

  “I see him,” he said absently, his gaze tracking the falls.

  “What?” I squinted over at the huge guy.

  “My King. His aura is around you.” A single nerve jumped around his eye. “And he is killing you.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I walk with one foot already in the grave. I can see death all around me. He is dragging you into one as well… My liege is too much for you to bear. You are not meant to hold two souls, especially one as heavy as his.” He gave me a vacant glance, then his gaze returned to the water.

  A distressed pulse filled my stomach as if Lars validated Goran’s words. “Of course.” The lump in my throat expanded, my head bowing down.

  “Find a way to get him back to his body, or he will destroy yours,” Goran said, then abruptly turned and walked away.

  I watched him go, the weight on my shoulders becoming boulders.

  “Shite!” I screamed into the water, one hand pressed to my stomach. If I die, he dies. “What do I do?” I asked over and over, hoping for anything to answer me: the universe, Lars, the fae gods. I didn’t care. “Please…” My legs grew weak, bending me to the cobblestones, my hands gripping the curved design of the stone railing, placing my head on it.

  You are strong, Fionna. You can do this, I imagined Lars saying to me.

  How? How do I get the stone out of power and you back in before it’s too late? I asked back. Even if I couldn’t actually talk to him, it helped. Anything for me to not lose my bloody mind right now.

  Think. Use that incredible sharp mind of yours, Druid. You have the answers right in front of you.

  What? I can’t seem to find my own arse presently.

  Come on, I know you have more ability than that. You had the power to outwit a Demon King. You can figure this out too… I conjured his soothing sexy voice in my head. What does the stone fear? What is its biggest weakness?

  The cauldron… But it is dead, useless. We broke it.

  Perhaps. However, if anyone has the power to reconstruct it, it would be a Cathbad, the bloodline that created it. Your blood is in it, Fionna. Your family’s magic.

  I jerked my head up. “Holy shite.” Could it be possible? Could I bring it back to life? Rebuild the only weapon which could fight the stone? The treasures were so old; it was as if they were created from some mystical family before time. But they weren’t. They were created by Druids the same as me, from my family blood. Why couldn’t I restore it? I had to at least try. It might be our only hope to beat the stone and get Lars back.

  I felt Lars rub against me, his pride thumping against my soul.

  I would fight to the death to get him back.

  “Probably the only time you’re going hear me say this, demon, but it’s time to get you the fuck out of me.”

  Chapter17

  Kennedy

  “Fuck. Shite!” My sister’s Irish poured through the corridor like syrup, sticky with anger. “Bloody rubbish.”

  I was learning the thicker the accent, the more pissed off she was.

  “Fi?” I poked my head around the doorway of her room. “What are you doing?”

  Fionna stood in the middle of the room, the Treasures of Tuatha Dé Danann strewn over the floor, as if she played a game.

  “Are you using the most powerful weapons in the world as soccer balls?” I stepped into the room, my mouth dropping.

  “Footie.” She put her hands on her hips, glaring at the objects. “You Americans are the only ones in the world who name a sport football that has hardly any contact with the foot, and we’re the odd ones.”

  “Pretty sure that was not my point.” My gaze followed her glower, which was poised on the cauldron. “Why are you tossing them around?”

  They were all devoid of magic, but I still felt cautious and nervous around the items that at one time could destroy the world.

  “I am trying to bring the cauldron back to life. The other ones just had the cheek to be in chucking distance.”

  My mouth parted. “Y-you’re doing what?”

  Fionna’s turned her face to me, her lips pinched, determination setting her jaw. “I have to try. For him. For my little girl.”

  “You think bringing back the cauldron will rein in the stone?” I glanced at the black metal bowl. It appeared so harmless, like an old pot from the past being used to cook soup or something mundane. Not something that had the power to control magical forces beyond your comprehension.

  Fionna licked her lip and stared back at the vessel, sadness brushing against her aura. My eyes narrowed, taking in a deep gray color bleeding around her edges, consuming the color of her life.

  “Fi?” I whispered. I blinked, making sure I was not mistaken.

  “I’m dying.” She sighed, her shoulders dropping. Weary. “Guess there’s a price for carrying a demon’s soul inside you.”

  My hand went to my mouth as I tried to absorb her statement. It didn’t take long for me to gain the truth of it. A human body, even with a Druid’s powers, could not contain two souls, especially one of Lars’s magnitude.

  “If I get him back to his body and bring the cauldron back,” she rubbed her forehead, “we might have a chance. It’s our fault we are even in this mess. Our selfishness to not let go of each other.”

  “No.” I bolted to her, touching her arm. She had told me how she was su
pposed to die in that cave and strengthen the cauldron so it could fight the stone. But Lars had made the ultimate sacrifice—love. In doing so, it splintered the cauldron, nullifying its powers. I couldn’t be more grateful to Lars for choosing Fionna. “I don’t care. You are meant to be here. For Piper, for Lars.” She swallowed. “For me. I do not want to lose you, Fionna. Not when I just found you.”

  Fionna’s lashes fluttered as she tilted to look at me.

  “A Cathbad made the cauldron. Our family bloodline is woven into it. Blood, sweat, and tears. If anyone should be able to bring it back, it’s me. I must keep trying to pour everything I have left in it. To save us.”

  “Seriously?” I set myself in front of her, my head shaking.

  “What?”

  “You are not the only Cathbad in this room. That blood runs through me too. My magic might help.” I gripped her hands. “The power of two is better than one.”

  “I can’t let you do this,” she responded. “You have enough to worry about… And this will drain you to nothing. You need to lead.”

  “Yes, but our chances suck nerf-herding ass as of late. If there is a possibility we could negate the stone and get Lars and Zoey back, I’m willing to take the chance.”

  Fionna’s lips tweaked into a frown. “You know it still might not be enough. Two is better, but it’s not the power we need.”

  Unfortunately, three was the rule in Druid magic. Three was a dominant and powerful number in nature.

  “Unless, you want to bring Grandpa Cathbad back to life, we’re working with what we have here.”

  “This is really going to be shite. Agonizing.”