Son of Saints: A Dark YA Fantasy Adventure: Renegade Guardians: Book Two

by Kyra Quinn

The tiny flicker of crimson light bloomed in the center of the ruby, then spread its way throughout the gem. Soon the jewel bathed the entire room in a soft crimson glow. The fresh wound on the back of my neck sizzled. My hands flew to the injury, but Aster pulled them away.

  “Not yet. Give the ward time to root itself.”

  I pressed my fist against my mouth. When I spoke, the sharp edge to my voice surprised me. “How long?”

  “Not long.”

  A heavy silence fell over the room. My muscles burned as the ward spread over my body. I gritted my teeth and pressed my eyes closed. The pain subsided, and my limbs tingled with warmth.

  “That should do,” Morrigan said. I opened my eyes to find her studying the fresh scar on my skin. “No one will discover you unless you wish them to.”

  Aster shot Morrigan a quick glance. “I’m going to have Morrigan take over your training today while I dig through some of these books. Why don’t you go change into something warm?”

  No one had to ask me twice. I sprinted away up the stairs as if my feet had caught fire. I didn’t want to give Aster a chance to object or change Morrigan’s mind. Another day trapped in her altar room alone would be torture. Morrigan didn’t have the most interesting personality in Astryae, but at least she’d buy me time away from Aster. When a pair of black leather trousers and a loose cotton shirt replaced my sleepwear, I scurried downstairs with more bounce in my step than I’d felt in weeks.

  * * *

  For as much as Morrigan adored Aster, a few minutes alone with her convinced me the two had little in common. Aster’s former lover moved with a feminine grace I’d never noticed in Aster. Morrigan’s smiles came with the ease of someone who’d never known loss or struggle. When she spoke, her speech was unburdened with Aster’s snark and defensiveness. To call Aster rough around the edges was an understatement. What the sinless saint saw in the girl who was all edges I had yet to figure out.

  Morrigan did not possess Aster’s boldness. The moment the front door closed behind us, Morrigan fixed me with a grave expression and said, “We need to find somewhere we can practice in private. This is the worst time in history to flaunt your powers in front of the passives.”

  “But I want to use my powers to help them—”

  “The best intentions won’t save you, sweetness. Unfortunately, only results matter. And things won’t end well for us if something happens to you before the war comes.”

  She took me by the wrist and marched me out of the gate, away from Aster’s building and into the blinding morning sunlight. Thin vapors like smoke trailed from our lips with every breath. Morrigan led me further from town and into the forest. We hiked for what felt like hours, until the noises and commotion of town had disappeared and only the gentle hum of nature remained. When we stopped, Morrigan straightened her dress and rubbed her hands together.

  “Close your eyes and concentrate on what you can feel inside of your body.” She rested a hand on my shoulder, her voice a soft whisper in my ear. “Allow any other thoughts to roll over you and fall away like raindrops.”

  I sucked in a greedy breath and allowed my eyes to drift shut. No wonder Aster had questioned Morrigan’s methods. As useless as the books proved, Morrigan’s strange guided thinking made less sense.

  “It may take a moment to get out of your head and settle into your body,” she said as if sensing my thoughts. “Be patient with yourself. Start with your fingertips and move inward.”

  How she and Aster had dated for any length of time was beyond me. Still, I licked my lips and tried to focus my thoughts into my fingertips. A slight breeze tickled my face. Birds sang in the branches above. Dogs barked and howled behind us. Nothing I noticed related to my body. The world around me had too much to say when I stopped to listen.

  I contemplated telling Morrigan we needed to give up when I noticed a gentle buzz of energy in my fingertips. My heart fluttered like a butterfly trapped beneath my ribs as the vibrations crept up my hand and through my arms. It filled my body until I worried my chest might swell and burst open. For the first time in weeks, I was bursting with life and possibility.

  “See?” Morrigan whispered from behind me. “It’s amazing how much more we’re capable of when we slow down and take the time to notice it. How do you feel?”

  “Amazing,” I said, my voice breathy. “What do I do now?”

  “Open your eyes. Focus on the target, but don’t strike it. Not yet.”

  My eyes snapped open. A crimson orb of energy floated through the air between the trees in the distance, undisturbed by our presence. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

  Morrigan came to stand beside me, her full lips curled into a sinister smile not unlike Aster’s. “Aster has focused most of your training on destruction and chaos. But you’re part Archangel as well. If my theory is correct, your powers allow you to nourish and create as easily as you obliterate.”

  “You want me to create another light ball?”

  Morrigan laughed, the whimsical sound only more irritating. “At some point. That ‘light ball’ is made up of pure astral energy. I want you to give it life.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Not human life. There isn’t enough of it there. But I want you to try to give it physical form. Breathe life into it.”

  Her relationship with Aster suddenly made perfect sense. Morrigan played the part of the good girl in public for the sake of the coven. Deep down, however, she had as many screws loose as the spunky mage inside.

  I wrapped my arms around my waist. “Isn’t there a more useful skill we could work on?”

  Morrigan’s face scrunched. “If the angels and demons bring their war to Astryae, our world will suffer the consequences. The people’s suffering will extend long after the fighting has finished. The druids and forest Fey will do what they can to heal the devastation, but it won’t be enough.”

  “Assuming we survive the war. With the target on my back, I don’t see how that’s possible if I don’t learn to fight.”

  “Not every soldier belongs on the front line. There will be plenty of time for death and destruction, I promise. For now, let’s spend a little time focused on creation and restoration.”

  I clenched my jaw and shot a glance towards Aster’s front door. “Fine. But I think our time would be better spent on skills that might protect us when the war hits.”

  “And we’ll work on those, too. For now, clear your mind of those dark thoughts. Tap into your angelic side and whisper life into the world around you.”

  The orb of light as it danced back and forth, taunting me. As if the weight on my shoulders wasn’t heavy enough, Morrigan expected me to heal the broken world after the war ended. What differentiated her request from the necromancy which ruined Aster’s life? What if we discovered my hands incapable of creating life, only destroying it?

  Morrigan’s eyes burned into my back as she waited for me to act. Out of time and excuses, I straightened my spine and reached my arms out in front of me. My hands shook as I held my palms open towards the orb. I tried to picture my hands wrapped around the sphere as the light seeped through the cracks in my fingers.

  The orb jerked to a halt. My stomach clenched. Had I destroyed the delicate ball of energy? If I had, it shouldn’t have surprised anyone. Everything I touched turned to ash.

  But the orb didn’t explode. Instead, it weaved through the air towards my open palms until the warmth blistered my fingertips. I winced, but Morrigan gave a nod of encouragement and beamed.

  “Wonderful, Lili. Now, try to channel your energy on a physical form.”

  A million thoughts raced through my mind. Legend said Cimera only created life in Astryae after Rhayer crafted the sun to cast light on her wonders. What could I do with Morrigan’s little ball of light? It didn’t have the strength or intensity of the sun, but it could still make something beautiful.

  I closed my eyes and allowed the energy in my fingertips to flow from me. A gentle weight against
my shoulders pressed me down until my palms were flat against the snowy soil. Morrigan gasped, but I blocked her voice out and concentrated on the warm tingle spreading through my palms and up my arm. When my skin no longer prickled, I rose to my feet and opened my eyes.

  I’d expected to find the orb still levitating in front of me. Or gone all together. Instead, a narrow stick supporting three tiny sage leaves poked through the inches of white powder where I’d rested my hands. Satisfaction bubbled inside of me until I bounced on my heels.

  “Well done.” Morrigan clapped a hand over my shoulder. “I had full faith you could do it.”

  I crouched down and eyed the plant with suspicion. “How?”

  “Your abilities can heal as much as they harm. It’s up to you to decide how to apply them.”

  Morrigan’s vague explanation offered little comfort, but I forced a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  “Again,” Morrigan encouraged, her voice breathy. “What else can you create?”

  I opened my mouth to ask for more specific instructions when a branch behind us snapped. Morrigan’s hand flew into her cloak and retrieved the aged oak wand tucked in her waistband. My blood turned to ice. I had forgotten to bring a weapon.

  A feathered onyx wing appeared first, the rest of the angel second behind. He had little in common with Remiel or the monsters who had slaughtered my father. Though he clutched a flaming sword in front of his chest, his bony hands trembled. He crept closer to where they stood, his posture lean and lanky. A forest green tunic and trousers covered skin so pale the moon itself had to envy him.

  Morrigan swore under her breath. “A scout from the Gardens. He must have sensed your light magic.”

  My heart hammered, each rapid beat filling my ears to muffle the sounds of the forest. Lightness flooded my head. I couldn’t imagine surviving an angelic assault without Aster.

  Instead I whispered, “What now?”

  The angel continued to advance, indifferent to our conversation. He spun the flaming sword in a rapid circle, but his eyes never left my face. The closer he approached, the more his cold smile grew.

  “The infamous camphelem,” he said, his fangs bared and ready to pounce. “Imagine how Samael will reward me when I toss your body at his feet.”

  Morrigan sliced the ruby tip of her wand through the center of her palm until blood dripped from her hand down to the soil. She aimed the bloody gem at the angel and shouted, “Lentesco!”

  Bright magenta light shot from the end of her wand and into the scout’s chest. The angel threw his head back and howled in frustration. Saliva dribbled from his thin lips, his pale blue eyes wild.

  Morrigan grabbed my arm. “That spell won’t last long against an angel. Run, Lili!”

  But I didn’t run. I stood frozen in front of the angel scout, my chest still heavy. “What is it you want from me?”

  The angel sneered. “Is it not obvious? Samael sent dozens of us to find you. I suspect he wishes to wipe you from existence.”

  Morrigan’s brows furrowed. She aimed her wand at the angel’s face and yelled, “Occido!” A sharp magenta light shot out from the tip of the wand and circled the angel, wrapping around his body in a spiral. He slumped over with a heavy thud.

  I had expected Morrigan to tear up. Instead, she glared down at the body and wrinkled her nose. “Lunkhead.”

  “Is he—”

  “No. None of the spells I’ve learned have the power to kill an angel. But I suggest we hurry back to Aster’s before he wakes.”

  * * *

  Aster stood in front of her altar with a pensive frown. She had relocated the stack of books from the table to a neat pile on the floor next to her boots. Her hands gripped the corners of the table. An open book was perched in front of her, the pages browned and wrinkled. Five candles flickered around the small iron cauldron in the center of the table despite the sunlight pouring in through the windows, the contents bubbling.

  To say Aster had used her magic conservatively since our narrow escape from the shadows would have been an understatement. Though Morrigan had stolen a temporary stave from the coven in Starbright, I could count on one hand the number of times Aster had bothered to touch the flimsy magic stick. A thin layer of dust covered the altar table, a reminder of her recent neglect. She lifted her head as Morrigan and I ascended the final few steps and joined her on the mezzanine in front of her altar.

  “How did it go?” she asked indifferently. She had changed out of her sleepwear in our absence. A pair of tight leather trousers hugged her hips and petite legs. A half-corset hugged her waist over her thin white blouse. Her hair fell down her back in lush, bouncy waves I envied.

  “She did well.” Morrigan gave my back a gentle pat. She turned her attention to Aster’s cauldron. “Are you performing a scrying spell?”

  “A loose variation of one. It isn’t as easy without my soul gem, but I can’t stand feeling trapped in the dark.”

  Morrigan’s lips tightened. “Where did you find blood? Tell me you aren’t foolish enough to offer up your own with no way to monitor the effects.”

  Aster rolled her eyes. “I caught a wild boar in the forest a few days ago. The meat went towards dinners, but I drained the blood for spell work. Waste no part of the animal’s sacrifice, right?”

  Morrigan nodded, but the way her lips twisted down in the corners suggested she wasn’t convinced. “Who are you spying on?”

  “Viktor.” The name fell from my lips. His smug smirk and musky scent sprang into my mind unbidden, twisting the invisible knife he’d left in my chest the night he kissed me and disappeared.

  “The wolf and the angel, yes. I have a gut feeling those two will play an important role in the war to come.”

  “Why?” Morrigan shot a skeptical glance towards the cauldron. “They were pleasant enough, but plenty of strapping young gentlemen might help us.”

  “Not like those two.” Aster reached for a pinch of dried lavender leaves and dropped them into the thick inky contents of the pot. “Even if we train Lili’s powers as well as we can, the three of us don’t stand much chance against the forces of both Zanox and the Elysian Gardens. We need the strength of numbers.”

  Morrigan snorted. “Coming from the girl who abandoned our coven and insisted she had no use for a family? That’s rich.”

  “And what is Madre or the coven doing to stop this madness? Are they out in the streets pushing back against the demons or throwing protection spells on every building? Or have they locked themselves away in the Grove to wait things out while the passives suffer the worst of the damage? I have no obligation to a family more concerned about self-preservation than morality.”

  A tense silence hung between us. I held my breath and waited for Morrigan to respond, but no one seemed to know what to say. Morrigan shuffled her weight and rubbed her arm as Aster fixed her with an icy glare.

  “Our obligation to this world should be stronger than our loyalty to the coven.”

  Morrigan sighed. “It’s more complicated than that—”

  Aster pressed a finger to her lips. The wet bubbles of the cauldron had stopped, the surface still. The spell was ready. Aster scurried closer and leaned her face over the pot. Morrigan’s worried tawny eyes darted between me and Aster as she chewed her thumb.

  I opened my mouth to ask what was happening, but a faint murmur of conversation filled the air. My heart stopped the moment I recognized Viktor’s warm, husky voice.

  “The king won’t help us,” he growled. “Last I checked, the crown isn’t fond of Feyfolk.”

  “You haven’t checked in a long time,” a gruff voice answered. “Passives haven’t occupied the throne in half a century.”

  I crept closer to Aster and the talking liquid. A thousand questions raced through my head. What would Viktor say if he knew we were spying on him? Did he think of me as often as I did him? Or was he grateful he’d left and escaped me before he ended up dead like every other man in my life?

  I held my br
eath and peeked into the cauldron. Viktor’s shirtless reflection rippled across the surface, his mouth twisted into a scowl. An older man stood across from him and frowned. Whatever their disagreement, neither appeared ready to surrender.

  “The King has no more access to the Shadowrealm than we do,” Viktor said. “A trip to Wyvenmere is nothing but an elaborate waste of time.”

  “So any plan that isn’t yours must be a bad one?” The other man folded his arms over his chest. “We have tried it your way for weeks, Viktor. We’re no closer to finding the veil now than we were when you came to me. It’s time you let someone with more experience lead.”

  “Lead where?” Viktor snorted. “To kneel at the King’s feet and beg for his assistance? I’d rather die.”

  “A real possibility if you don’t change your approach.”

  The cauldron went dark once more, the conversation over. I blinked and wiped my sweaty palms down my sides.

  “What happened? Where did he go?” I asked, my tone a little edgier than I would have liked.

  Aster shook her head. “We have a limited supply of blood before the spell burns out. Less since the sacrifice came from an unclean source. We must move over to Remiel now.”

  Heat rushed through me, but I swallowed down my selfish whimpers of protest. Aster had done me a kindness by checking in on Viktor at all. It was Remiel who needed our help.

  Morrigan wrapped her arms around her midsection. She shrank back away from the table and into the shadow behind the altar. “Will the Dark Mother sense you watching?”

  “Not if we mind ourselves and stay silent.” Aster plucked an ivory feather from the table and dropped it into the concoction in front of her. She placed her palms down on either side of the table and closed her eyes. The cauldron boiled and rolled once more. Thick black liquid sloshed around the pot. When she removed her hands from the table, the cauldron continued to bubble.

  “Give it a moment,” she said, her voice breathy. “Remiel may take longer to find since he’s outside of our realm.”

  Aster’s definition of a moment felt more like an eternity. The knots in my chest tightened and loosened. I held my breath and rocked on my heels. The more seconds ticked by, the more the dark thoughts inside of my head swirled. When the cauldron stilled and Remiel’s face rippled across the surface, my heart shattered beneath my ribs as if made from glass.