Heaven Sent (Lupine Bay Book 1)

by Maribel Fox

  “That kind of spell will have drained her power,” Raj agrees.

  “Anyone gonna ask Ava how she feels?” I say, hiding my impatience best I can. They still don’t get it. They don’t get what she is. What she can do. I’m not sure she does either.

  When all eyes turn to her, Ava’s face warms, and she looks flustered for a moment.

  “I… Well, um… I was feeling kind of drained at the beach, but to be honest, I feel pretty great right now. Like I just got a good night’s sleep and a double-shot espresso, and I can take on the world. I feel… Well, it’s going to sound weird, but I feel connected to the earth? I don’t know how to explain it—”

  “No need to. Yer Fae, the earth’s in your blood.”

  Ava frowns, chewing her lip, twisting her hands in her lap. “I want to fight. This is my home, I should be out there defending it.” She says it with enough conviction to convince me. Might make a well good queen after all.

  “But,” she says, eyes sliding over to the bar where Ian and Rue are in close conversation, whispering while looking our way. “Ian shouldn’t be here. Rue can take him out of town, make sure he’s safe—”

  “Bad idea,” I tell her, shaking my head. “Don’t split up, stay near the heart of your power — right here. That’s where he’ll be safest from harm. Matter o’ fact, Heaven likes to play dirty — should have everyone you care about close by.”

  Ava makes a face. “Isn’t that overkill?”

  “Should we ask Kushiel?” I ask, knowin’ I’m being unnecessarily short with her. Time’s not on our side. “Or would ye rather spare Rue and Alistair the pain of learnin’ that lesson for you?”

  I can tell she doesn’t like the idea, that she wants to argue with me still, and I’m prepared for it. I’ve spent enough time arguing with Ava that it’s practically a pastime between us.

  “Fine,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t like it, but you know more about this than I do. I’ll convince them to stay here.”

  “Ava, as much as I admire your willingness to join our fight, I’m not sure your powers have grown enough. Stifling them for so long could make it difficult to call on them on command without months of practice,” Raj objects.

  “Well, we don’t have months, we have… Maybe a couple of hours? So how am I going to get stronger?” she asks, voice more determined than ever.

  That’s my girl.

  No, that’s my Queen.

  And then it hits me. Like the proverbial apple falling out of the tree, it smacks me and is so damned obvious I can’t believe I didn’t think about it before. Was too concerned with Ava’s denial to think about it, I s’pose.

  “What? What’s that look for?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.

  “You said you were tired after the spell that healed Kushiel?” I ask.

  “Seamus, you know that kind of magic would drain her significantly—” Raj starts, and I hold up a hand.

  “Aye, I do.”

  “Yes,” Ava says nodding, confused yet intrigued. “I was feeling really drained right after, but then it wore off and I feel… better than ever, honestly. Really strong.”

  “Mm,” I say, nodding.

  “What’re you ‘mm’ing about, man?” Kush asks. “What kinda weird ancient Fae shit are you not telling us?”

  “Ava essentially performed an exceptionally high-level spell to help a member of her court — something that could very well power her up as one of the first big displays of her power.”

  “Her court?” Kush asks.

  “He’s not—” Ava protest.

  “Not officially, he’s not,” I agree. “Seems in your heart though…” I shake my head. Can’t believe the blarmy bastard beat me to it without even trying.

  Well, there’s one way to fix that. I can make this thing official.

  I push back from my chair, and drop to one knee, taking Ava’s hand in mine and bowing my head.

  “Seamus,” she hisses. “What are you doing?”

  “My Queen,” I say, heart hammerin’ like mad. “I pledge myself to you. My life, my fealty, before all witnesses present, I pledge myself to your court.” The wallop hits me all at once, like jolting awake from a dream where you fell a great height. I suck in a sharp breath and it feels like coming up for air when I didn’t know I was underwater.

  Ava gasps, pulling her hand back, both of them clutching her stomach.

  “What was— What did you do?” she asks suspiciously, flexing her hands in front of her eyes now. “That felt weird.”

  “Surge o’ power,” I say, whole body thrumming with the new strengthened connection with her. Never had anything like a court connection before. There’ll be time to marvel over my feeling of rejuvenation later. “Establishing a true court is the fastest way to grow your power — something we all need right now.”

  “Well shit, I’m already in this, right?” Kush asks, standing up and circling the table. “Pledging loyalty to her is all I need to do?”

  “And mean it,” I say with a nod.

  “Ava,” Kush says, taking her hand and dropping into a kneel. “You’re dope as hell, and I knew that before you saved my life and restored my wings. Don’t ever doubt that you have my unwavering loyalty. I’d be honored to be in your court.”

  She gasps again, her face flushed with the rush of new power coursing through her veins.

  “That’s… wow,” she whispers, hugging herself. Kush feels the connection too, but I’ve no clue what it feels like to a non-Fae. It’s highly unorthodox.

  I wait for the others to join, to offer themselves to her as well, but it’s a fruitless wait. Neither of them makes a move to join in. Micah looks uneasy about the whole thing — probably fighting his training to slaughter the lot of us blasphemers — and Raj is staring out a window, expressionless, appearing not to notice the expectant way Kush and I both look at him

  They’re already sworn to others, their loyalties are not up for grabs, even now.

  “Has that giant tree always been in the backyard?” Raj asks, an odd non sequitur if I’ve ever heard one. And they say Fae are the ones touched in the head.

  29

  Ava

  “We ought to take it outside,” Seamus says, frowning at the potted ivy that we’re both staring at. It’s the simplest of tasks — make the ivy respond — and I’m still not able to do it.

  Some Faerie Queen.

  “You sure this is something I should be able to do?” I ask skeptically, glaring at the lightly-striped leaves. English ivy — always such a pain, always doing whatever the hell it wants to do.

  “Flora in your domain should respond to your commands,” he says, scratching at his ginger beard thoughtfully. At least he looks as perplexed about this as I am. He’s the one that found the information on what I should be able to do, and while our only plan is ‘hold our defenses’ it seems like a good time to be wrangling my magic and figuring out how to work it to my advantage.

  Only it’s not working, and it’s getting on my nerves.

  “You’re a woodland Fae, bein’ outside’ll help,” Seamus says, grabbing the pot from the table in front of us and carrying it outside without waiting for a response from me. Whatever happened to queens being in charge?

  I groan, and trudge after him, dragging my feet across the bar floor. Being outside is better. I know he’s right. The moment I’m outdoors, I feel my magic surge, it’s like the earth is reaching up to greet me, the plants are happy to lend me their energy.

  But The Shamrock is safe. It’s my dark little cave where the shit that’s going on outside can’t get to me.

  Seamus doesn’t seem to care about that. He’s determined to see me succeed, the asshole. And while he’s helping me figure out my magic, the other guys are scouting the property, looking for any vulnerabilities in our defenses. Charging in is dumb, reckless, and suicidal and we all know it. At this point, we have to hope that Heaven either decides to talk to us like reasonable people, or they make a dumb move. Othe
rwise, I’m not sure what’s happening here, how long we’re expected to hold our breaths while they claim to be innocently camping an army outside my door.

  “There, that’s better already, innit?” Seamus asks, inhaling the sweet scent of pine from the air. The sky’s still misty gray, but there’s sun shimmering through layers of gauzy clouds, and I feel so much more alive.

  “Yeah, yeah, shut up,” I grumble, giving him a conciliatory grin.

  “Try to see if ye can’t get it to wiggle about a bit,” he says, putting the ivy on the ground in front of me, then shimmying his fingers as if I needed a demonstration. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so freaking annoyed with this plant right now. I swear, any other day of the week, you can see it growing. Rue’s forever horrified by how fast it takes over the back of the bar and has to be pruned back. Generally, I love that it’s got its own spunky little spirit, but right now, its attitude is pissing me off.

  I’m not asking much. And yet it’s not offering anything.

  “I’ll try…” I mutter, narrowing my eyes at the ivy, its long tendrils snaked out over the ground. I focus on one of them in particular, even pointing at it for good measure. “Just… do it,” I growl, but the ivy’s staying obstinate as ever.

  “This is hopeless, Seamus. If I can’t even get this to work… and you and Kush have both already added so much to my power… What the hell am I really supposed to be able to do?”

  Seamus is on the other side of the ivy, arms folded, face grim. I’m not sure if he’s looking at me or the ivy, but whichever it is, he’s disappointed as hell in what he’s looking at.

  Probably me.

  “How are things progressing?” Micah asks, approaching from around the house. The flat line of his mouth says I don’t really need to answer.

  “They’re not,” I say anyway, needing to vent. Seamus isn’t a good ear for that. He’s got little sympathy, and right now, he’s as confused and annoyed as I am about the whole thing. Maybe it’s a Fae thing, but Seamus does the opposite of calm me down. If anything, he makes me more keyed up and restless, and right now that’s not helping.

  “What is the matter?” Micah asks, stepping closer. I look down, frowning, remembering the other night when he said he’s no good at emotions and doesn’t know how to comfort people.

  It’s funny though, because he’s the one I think of first when I’m looking for comfort. He’s the calming, reasonable influence I feel I need to soothe the burning flames of my temper. I lick my lips and shake my head, flapping my hand at the ivy.

  “I can’t make it do anything.”

  Startled, I look up when he takes my hand, his is so much bigger, warmer, enveloping mine in his strong, gentle grasp.

  “That I understand, what is the matter with you?” he asks, dark eyes warming to gold, layered and deep unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I could get lost in his look, in the serious slant of his brow and the chiseled planes of his face. There’s something different about him, something I think he might only be letting out for the first time.

  This whole thing with Heaven has been really hard for him. I’ve been so caught up with my own problems and how to handle everything, that it’s been easy to forget that everyone else here has their own stakes, their own backgrounds that make this worse.

  Micah’s giving up everything to be here. He’s left his job, his people, he’s basically deserted the Celestial Army and is conspiring to commit high treason.

  That’s pretty big. And he’s doing all that for me. They’re all doing so much for me.

  A choked cry breaks from my lips and I swallow it back, sucking in a deep breath.

  “I don’t think I can do it. Everyone’s counting on me, everyone’s sacrificed so much for me… too much. Everyone’s got so much faith in me and I’m afraid I’m going to fail you all. I can’t… I can’t do that,” I say, swallowing thickly, pushing back tears. My heart’s racing, and it feels like there’s a swarm of bees in my lungs, but then Micah squeezes my hand and draws me away from the ivy, pulling my attention away from the glaring reminder of my failure.

  “Ava, that is not productive thinking. You cannot allow your mind to rule over you, you cannot allow it to run wild like that. You must tame it — and your power.” With his free hand, Micah threads his fingers through my hair, gently pushing it out of my face, behind my ear. “If you allow your fear to reign, it will lead to paranoia, self-doubt, dark, insidious thoughts. I do not tell you this to alarm you, Ava — I believe in you. That is not enough alone. You must believe in yourself and make your magic take heed. It must respect you, view you as the authority.”

  I laugh at the thought that brings up, and Micah gives me a confused look.

  “You just made me imagine my magic as a bratty toddler,” I say, still chuckling at the image. “After Mom… When I started being in charge of Ian… It wasn’t easy at first, you know? He’s always been a good kid, but I was his sister, not his parent. There was a lot of boundary-pushing — still is sometimes since I can’t be everywhere at once. But Alistair told me back then that Ian was never going to believe I had the authority to punish him unless I believed it, because he could sense that I still felt like an impostor.”

  Micah smiles, and it’s such a rare sight that it surprises me. A good surprise though. A really good one.

  “It is very much the same, yes. I can see why you would make that connection. Would you like me to share a meditation trick of mine? It may help you to calm your mind and quiet the doubting voices.” The suggestion brings up memories of his soothing back rub and poetry recital the other day, warmth flushing through me with an illicit shimmy.

  “I’d love that,” I say softly, hoping he doesn’t see how turned on I am at the thought of his hands on me again. He’s being perfectly respectable and I’m being a crazed horndog. Good job, Ava.

  He nods, lips still curled into a soft smile.

  “Find a place that speaks to you and we will begin.”

  I take a deep breath, shaking off the jittery feeling his closeness give me, and look around, finally spotting a spot of dappled shade under a western red cedar. The grass beneath is overly long, dotted with wildflowers, and the knobbly roots of the cedar have made burrows for various little critters. It’s a peaceful little part of the yard that I’ve always liked.

  “Good,” he says, sitting in the grass, tugging me down with him.

  Here in the shade, this close to Micah, I smell his clean classic scent — linen, leather, even parchment, as odd as that is — and with it, a wisp of ozone, the singe of electricity in the air right after a lightning strike.

  He may appear calm on the outside, but I think underneath Micah is much more. He radiates the kind of energy I crave, restrained, controlled, but the power — there’s no doubt there’s power there.

  “Close your eyes,” he instructs, “and listen.”

  “Listen to—”

  “Close your eyes,” he says, firm yet gentle, still smirking, gold flecks in his eyes. They’re still sparkling behind my eyelids when I oblige and close my eyes.

  “Now, listen,” he says, practically a whisper.

  I don’t ask again for what I’m supposed to be listening to, I don’t think that’s going to get me anywhere. Micah’s a man of few words.

  At first, I don’t hear anything but my own thoughts. I hear the mean voice in my head telling me this is stupid, this isn’t going to help, nothing’s going to help because this whole thing is helpless.

  It’s the same voice that’s been playing on a loop for probably my whole life. Every single time something comes up, there’s an obstacle in my way, I panic. I panic, and I run. I’ve always run.

  But not this time.

  This is my home.

  My land.

  No — my domain. And no one, not even from Heaven or Hell themselves, is going to make me run away from my rightful claim. No one.

  Once I stop listening to that stupid little voice, I start to hear other things — birds singing in
the distance, insects buzzing around the flowers — I hear the beat of my own pulse, breath moving through my airways. Then I hear Micah’s breathing, slow and steady, not at all like my shallow quick breath.

  Without thinking about it, I match my breathing to his, falling into a sort of trance where the only thing I’m really paying attention to is the sound of our breaths commingling in the air between us.

  It’s an oddly intimate moment. With my eyes closed, with this feeling of disembodiment, it’s easy to forget that we’re two separate entities. When we’re breathing as one, it feels like Micah and I are one. It’s a closeness I never even knew was possible, and the way it has magic surging up inside of me, bubbling forth like a science fair volcano eruption, makes my eyes fly open.

  Micah’s open too, and we’re staring at each other, not a breath between us.

  “There is something I must tell you, Ava,” he says, voice so soft and quiet it almost doesn’t seem real.

  I can’t speak, tongue-tied by the surge of conflicting feelings inside of me. Part of me is confused, part of me doesn’t care. Part of me wants to jump his bones, part of me knows now’s not the time. There’s this war between my rational brain and my insistent magic, but I’ve got to be the parent here. It’s going to have to learn how to take no for an answer.

  “The reason I did not swear myself to you earlier is not because I doubt you in any way. I could not honestly think of a finer group of outcasts to die alongside.”

  “Micah, you don’t have to explain—”

  “I wish to,” he says, wetting his full lips, the cloak of uncertainty still draped heavily around his shoulders. “I want you to understand. For centuries, I gave my loyalty blindly. I fought for a cause I believed I understood. Only to find out everything I thought I knew was a lie. The cause I killed so many for, the sins I rationalized…”

  He shakes his head, looking off into the distant grasses, swaying in the late afternoon light, turning golden as the sun drops under the clouds’ cover.