Rise From the Embers (Lightness Saga #4)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  “No!” He jumped from a car to my shoulder. I froze inside, scared the stone would notice and make me hurt Sprig. “We’re family, right? I mean, I shared my honey with you…if that’s not love, then I don’t know what is. It’s more than I did for my own mother. That is a bond deeper than blood.”

  “Get. Away,” I muttered, huffing through my nose.

  His hand came to my cheek, the warmth seeping into my skin.

  “Do you need to borrow my cape?” He tugged on the pair of black undies he had around his neck. “What am I talking about? You have superpower tits. Those things can fight anything. They are blessed by the gods.”

  I swear I could hear my heart crack. With my love for him…for all my family.

  Both tiny hands cupped my chin, forcing my face to look at him. He briefly peered down at Ryker, swallowing back the lump in his throat, his gaze coming to mine. “Bhean, I believe in you. Viking believes in you.”

  A sob welled inside, but I knew my face showed nothing.

  “The honey gods are with you. Use them.” He nipped on his lip, nodding toward my bra. “Ummm…they don’t happen to be with you now? I mean, a little burst of sweet energy wouldn’t hurt right now, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “Go. Please,” I whispered hoarsely.

  “No.” He shook his head. “You need me, Bhean. And…I love you. I never thought I would have a home. A family. A place where I belong. After what happened to me, I could never go home, never be accepted again. I thought I would be alone the rest of my life. A super freak. I’m lucky. You found me. Took me with you. You’re my Bhean…” He tipped his head, stressing the last word. “No matter what, I will stand by you. To remind you of what we have.” He dropped his hands away. “Plus, you have ‘hallelujah, praise the gods’ honey dispensers. Why would I ever leave that?”

  “Remember what you have. What we have together. Our family. Us. Fight for that.”

  “It. Can. Offer. You. Nothing.”

  Something clicked inside me at last.

  Holy hell.

  The stone was only truly powerful when it had something to offer someone. Material things. Land. Money. A different life. To be famous. It offered your deepest wish to you, while it sucked you dry, getting its claws into you. At one time, I had wanted more. Family. Love. Friends. But none of it would have been real. Only the illusion of love and friendship. I had all that now. I wanted for nothing. I had my dream life come true. Beyond anything I could imagine. My business, my sisters, my son, my best friends, and the love of my life. And it was all real.

  Ryker. I could wish…

  No. He would not want that. Plus, it wouldn’t be him, just an illusion of the actual man. A dream.

  The stone had nothing to offer me! No power over me, except the agreement, and the mark on my hand. I had tried to cut it away before, but something was telling me to do it again. Except, the stone wouldn’t let me hurt myself.

  “Sprig.” As I tried to get my idea across to Sprig, beads of sweat trickled down my body and my eyes watered from the smoke. “Cut my hand.”

  “What?” He gripped my shirt, eyeing me.

  It took several tries, my head pounding with effort, but I finally lifted my hand, turning my palm to him. “Cut. It. Out.”

  “Is this some kinky stuff I really don’t want to know about you?” His eyes widened. “Like honey-dipped-in-sugar-rolled-in-honey-and-fried-in-honey kind of twisted things?”

  “Do. It,” I croaked, perspiration gliding down my face. The clatter of war clanked around me as if I were in some strange bubble. Stone had probably done it so I wouldn’t let myself get killed. He wanted me around. I tried before, but he wouldn’t let me hurt myself... but even powerful treasures seemed to forget about lesser fae. “Knife. Boot.”

  “Fine. Only because I can never say no to your delicious honey melons.” Sprig shook his head before crawling down my leg, grabbing the blade, and scouring back up. It might do nothing, but I hoped this would break a thread of his power on me.

  “Okay, Bhean.” He gripped the knife near the hilt so he could control it. “You owe me for this. You know I hate blood. Or bananas. Bananas are definitely worse, but blood comes in second. Well, maybe not. I don’t particularly like cucumbers either. Gives me gas.” He sucked in a breath then dug the tip into my palm. A jolt of pain dashed up my arm and zinged across nerves up and down my entire shoulder. “And if we’re being totally honest, your green bean casserole is not my favorite. Salad night is just inhumane. But that triple honey cake you made for my birthday. Loved it! Death by honey is the only way to go.”

  He slid the blade deeper into my hand. I felt everything, but the cries of pain were on the inside, still making my brain flutter with dizziness. “If we get out of this, you are taking me to Izel’s. I’ve been telling Cal about it. Oh man, the pancakes! She will be so happy to see us. She’ll make me a dozen.” He sliced deeper, blood pooling up and around the wound. “Ohhh…I’m gonna throw up… I’ll need honey to recover. I’m not picky. If you happen to have one of those granola bars? Oh, how about those mango chips? Churros? I would never turn down one of those Inca Colas!”

  “Keep. Going,” I hissed. Each cut, I could sense it, like weeds being pulled in a garden, a connection to the stone being pruned. It was tiny, but optimism still curled inside with hope my leash could get a little longer.

  “Zoey!” My name rang through the air, jerking my eyes to the side. Dressed in dark clothes, her hair in a signature Annabeth fishtail braid, my sister came running through the gate, cuts and blood covering her exposed skin. Lexie. My heart surged, but my body did not move an inch. “Oh my god…it’s you, right?”

  Lexie moved surprisingly quickly on her mechanical legs, Croygen yards behind her, jumping into the fight, slicing into anyone that hinted at leaping at her.

  Oh, hell. If Stone saw my sister, he’d get another piece of his revenge.

  “No,” I growled, shaking my head. “Stay back.” I’m still not me. Please, run away from me.

  Her eyebrows furrowed, looking at Sprig, then at me. “But?”

  A scream twisted my gaze away from my sister, landing on another. Amara stood a few yards away, her sword limp in hands, her eyes on the body behind me, agony etched across her features, her chest heaving.

  Ryker.

  He was the only one Amara seemed to care about beside herself. The one person she wanted so badly after so long despite his continued rejection.

  Fury rolled over her, twisting her mouth, hate finding me. Abhorrence flashed in her eyes, locking on me.

  “You fucking bitch,” she seethed, her lip curling up. “You did this, didn’t you? I always knew you would be his end. I loved him, and you took him from me. And now I will thoroughly enjoy ending your life.” She took large strides toward me, raising her sword, her tongue sliding over her lips, like she could already taste my blood.

  “Please,” I choked out a whisper, “do it.”

  She halted, her forehead scrunching at my plea. She could hear I begged her to kill me, not to give me passage. Her sword was still poised to swing at me, but she tilted her head.

  “Please, Amara.” Please kill me.

  Amara sucked in, skeptical of my motives. It was the first time I had ever seen her falter. And it was the first time I wished she wouldn’t.

  “Bhean?” I could hear Sprig call me. My energy was weak, but I dropped my arm, forcing Sprig to the ground, where droplets of blood pelted the concrete, the mark on my hand a marred bloody mess.

  “Zoey?” Lexie took another tentative step to me. My eyes narrowed in warning, stopping her in place. She gulped. “Sprig.” She motioned for the sprite to move to her.

  “No.” He still clung to the knife, staying near my leg. “Bhean needs me to keep reminding her to fight.”

  Well, well…I can’t leave you alone for a moment. Stone’s voice slithered through my head, wrapping around my throat. I can feel you, Zoey. You think you can fight me. Think there is nothing I
have that you want. You don’t think I know your deepest wishes? I think there is one thing you will still want...

  Visons flashed in front of me, the battle disappearing in front of me, filling with the backyard of the house I used to see as my dream home. Again, I was draped in a long black silky off-the-shoulder wrap and sunglasses. The nondescript friends I used to fill my imagination with were now all the people fighting for freedom next to me. Ember, Eli, Kennedy, Lorcan, Fionna, and even Lars surrounded the table. Others played in the pool or lounged by the grill, laughing and joking. The table was full of food and drinks. Annabeth brought another tray of food from the house, the blond dark dweller at her side, his hands unable to stay off her.

  There were no more imaginary parents, and this time Lexie was no longer a little girl playing in the pool. She and Croygen lay on the lounge chairs, whispering and smiling, like two on the verge of falling in love.

  I looked over my shoulder at the man I loved. Ryker’s white eyes danced playfully as he wrapped his arms around my middle, kissing my neck. “Just wait until I have you alone. Think the Chevelle needs to be taken for a ride.”

  This was everything I wished for, wanted. But it wasn’t real. What I had was real. I no longer needed a huge house or nice things. Ryker and I had created an even better dream.

  The splat of my blood hitting the stone echoed in my ears, pulling me back to reality, clearing my vision. The castle grounds drenched in blood filtered up my nose, centering my boots on the pavement. It had a strangely clarifying effect on me.

  “No,” I drove the response out of my throat.

  “Excuse me?” Lars’s image stepped through the fog of the battle. Not one blade or weapon touched him but moved around him like magnets repelling each other. Stone tilted his head, his black eyes clenched on me, then dropped to my hand. “You think cutting out my mark will stop me? You are so naïve.”

  “Not completely,” I spit out. “Filing back the claws. You have nothing to offer me.”

  “Your lover is dead. Most of your friends will follow. You need me, Zoey. You always have. Even when you denied me, you still dreamed of me. Sometimes longed to have me back.”

  “The problem with being an object depending on people to live is that you need us, not the other way around.” Every word came out stronger, my body still stiff, but I could feel prickling in my hand near the wound. And it felt like my hand. It hurt like a bitch, but the external pain was welcome, reminding me what was real. What was me. “Nothing you offer is real. Even if you showed me Ryker alive again. He’s only a shadow of the man I had. An impression of the real family and love I have now.”

  This was what Lars was trying to tell me before he died. I had the power. Good or bad, it was real. I no longer dreamed of a better life, nor did I want power or money. I wasn’t willing to live in a made-up world just to have family and friends surround me.

  “Zoey…” Stone clicked his tongue, strolling over to me.

  My mind drifted to Kennedy, wondering where she was and what he had done to her, but the sensation of his magic seeping in centered me in the here and now. I rolled my shoulders back, my head high. “You have no power over me.”

  Stone stopped, his eyes narrowing. Like a gust of wind, he shoved his magic at me. I stumbled back, the force burning my skin, his virtual claws digging back in.

  I gritted my teeth, repeating my motto in my head at him, knowing he heard every word.

  Stone took methodical steps toward me, his black pupils narrowing on me.

  “Lars? What is going on?” Amara sputtered, looking between us, not understanding. She saw Lars. Lars attacking one of his own. Slowly he curved his head to her; a strange smirk tugged the side of his mouth too far up to be normal.

  “Ah. Margo. Or is it Amara now? The woman who craved me so bad I could taste her desperation with every pulse. The years you longed for my power, not knowing how close I really was.” Stone walked straight to Amara, taking her face in his hand. “Watching Ryker keeping you from me was my only entertainment. You were so desperate it was pathetic. And deep down all you really wanted me for was to help you keep him. You knew he never loved you.”

  “What are you talking about? I did not long for you. You were a means to an end. I was using you.” She tried to jerk back out of his grip, but her body didn’t move an inch. Fear opened her eyes bigger as she tried to move unsuccessfully again. Her mouth opened but immediately slammed shut in an audible crunch.

  “You still think you’re talking to Lars. How pitiable, Amara.” Stone gripped the back of her neck, tugging her roughly to him. “You are such a small player; I should kill you for fun. There is no question why Ryker and I both chose Zoey.”

  She didn’t speak, but it looked as though someone had slapped Amara across the face. Her cheek muscles tightened, her eyes widened, and hurt transformed her expression.

  “Didn’t you already have a chance to bed her, nephew?” A man’s voice came through the fog, twisting all of us to the person who resembled Lars. “Seems an odd time and place, but desperation does strange things to men, huh?” Stavros, covered in dirt, his clothes torn and bloody, sauntered up, his arms open, as if he were the master of his domain. He acted like he didn’t have a care in the world; he honestly thought he was the most powerful here.

  Stone dropped his hand from Amara and stepped back, not looking at the Demon King. His mouth twitched as though he were amused. Amara’s chest fluttered hastily. Her panic-filled eyes darted to Stavros, and she froze in place. Just as I did.

  It was all an illusion. The power of our own minds working against us. The stone told our brains we couldn’t move or speak, and our brains believed it. It was harder to fight yourself than an outside force.

  Was there a way I could trick my mind out of it? Force it to push beyond?

  “You will let everyone die for you, Lars?” Stavros waved at the rubble and bodies on the ground. Some of them were Rapava’s creatures. My own children. Though I felt relieved there were fewer of them. “This could end now. But I doubt you could ever sacrifice yourself for others. It’s not in our blood is it? In the end, demons will give up everyone they love to be the last standing.” Stavros placed his hands on his hips. “Guess it makes it more exciting. I will probably be a little bored once you are dead. There will be no one to see me torture your lover or her child.”

  “Demon.” Stone swiveled gradually to Stavros. “It’s as if you are not even trying to make this challenging for me. I preferred the other High Demon King.”

  Stavros’s brows furrowed as he dropped his arms and rolled his fists into balls. “I think the game is over. Time to die, boy.”

  Magic flowed from Stavros directly at Stone, the energy skating over my skin. I had been subjected to Lars’s power before. It was crippling and painful. If Stavros had even more, I couldn’t imagine the anguish he could cause…to a normal fae.

  The potency of Stavros’s power slammed into the bubble, but Stone bounced it right back into Stavros. Stavros stumbled, his forehead crinkling with deep lines as his own magic crackled against his skin. All humor and cockiness dropped away as fury rolled his lips into a snarl like a feral dog, thrusting more energy at the stone. Once again his energy slipped by or ricocheted back, Lars’s body unharmed.

  “What?” Stavros glanced around like he was being tricked. “What is going on? You have no power left.”

  Stone let his head drop back, an empty laugh chilling the already hostile air. Then the humor ended as his jaw clamped down. The shift to anger was just as abrupt and unsettling as the laugh.

  Stone strode up to Stavros and wrapped his hand around his throat. Stavros’s expression morphed into complete shock. “You are not speaking with your nephew. If you were any kind of demon, you would have known that. He is dead.”

  “Dead?” Stavros sputtered. “But I still feel him—”

  “Stop. Talking.” The rest of Stavros’s words died away in his throat, though my brain latched on to his final words. He
still felt him? Is that what he was going to say? It didn’t make sense; I was there when Lars was expelled from his body. He couldn’t live outside of it. That wasn’t possible, right?

  “You know the only weapon in the world which can kill a High Demon King is the spear?” Stone’s voice was cruel and cold. It was the same one that haunted so many of my nightmares, vowing it would find me and make me pay. “Well, actually the magic of the spear. And guess who holds those powers as well.” Stone lifted a lip in a grotesque sneer. “You are so far out of your element; this will be like stepping on a bug. Stupid, greedy, gluttonous, arrogant... with no reason to be. Do you know how many of you I’ve run into in my time? Thousands. Kings, CEOs, presidents. No different from the last. At first, I fed off your type, since you were never satisfied, always wanting more. I could suck you dry of life, and you’d come back again, your greed a drug. It outweighed any intelligence.” He gripped his throat tighter. “I don’t consume pig slop anymore.”

  Watch, dear Zoey. This one you might enjoy. The air shifted, and the prickle of death rolled over me, heading toward the Demon King. Stone’s mouth parted, ready to order his death.

  “Darz!” A little girl’s voice cut through the middle of our little bubble, my heart dropping to my feet. I swung around just as Piper’s tiny frame barreled through the battling men and objects on fire, running up to us.

  Oh. God. No.

  I wanted to scream, to jump to her, to cover her with my body. What was she doing out here?

  Stone held Stavros’s neck but stared at the little girl as if she were an alien, his nostrils flaring. I could hear Lexie and someone else screaming for her, but everything became white noise in the background, my attention tunneling on the girl.

  She lifted her chin, looking so much like her mother, but with a certainty only a child could possess. She didn’t flinch.

  “Don’t worry, okay?” Her Irish accent danced along with her toes, as though she had no doubt. “I will save you.”

  Chapter 28