Ascended

by S. Young

  In the end, it was Nikolai who came to the rescue. Reuben called and asked him if he’d ever been to the Prophet’s place in Greece, and surprise, surprise, the Midnight had. Nikolai told Reuben to bring Caia and Saffron to his beach house, and he’d get the Prophet to come back with him to speak with Caia. And that was exactly what he did.

  Caia hadn’t known what she’d been expecting. Okay. So she did know. She’d been expecting some withered old man with a long, white beard, wearing ancient Greek dress and banging around the place with a staff. Pretty much Gandalf, except Greek. The Prophet hadn’t been anything like that. He had been old … like, seventy old, but with a full head of pepper-gray hair and a trim physique. He walked like a man years younger, a handsome older man in white linen trousers and shirt. The dude was less Gandalf and more Sean Connery.

  He’d been a charmer, all right. He’d approached Caia with a careful smile, his light eyes drinking her in from head to foot. Almost tentatively, the Prophet had taken her hand between the palms of both of his and shook it gently.

  “So this is Caia Ribeiro.” He’d smiled, shaking his head in wonder. “You’re just what I imagined.”

  That had amused her. “You’re the only one who pictured me like me. I think people were imagining … taller and, well … just taller.”

  He chuckled warmly and nodded. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “And now you wish to speak with me?”

  Caia gestured to Nikolai’s sofas, and the Prophet followed her to the seating area. He laughed a little at the way Reuben, Saffron, and Nikolai trailed them, barely giving them room to breathe.

  “Nice to see you, Kirios.” The Prophet grinned at Reuben.

  The vampyre narrowed his eyes on him. “Your last bout of information regarding the Septum turned into crap. That’s why you’re here.”

  “Jeez, Reuben, are you always so rude?” Caia admonished and turned politely back to the Prophet. “Ignore him.”

  “Ignore him?” Reuben spluttered. “Old man, you sent us on a twenty-year goose chase.”

  The old man shrugged lazily but his eyes turned serious. “And yet here I am speaking with Caia. And she has something very important to ask me. Something that will matter. So … maybe the goose chase wasn’t really a goose chase after all.”

  Saffron had taken that moment to roll her eyes. “Oh, please, don’t give us that ‘everything happens for a reason’ crap.”

  Their disrespect toward the Cassandrian made Caia uncomfortable, and she gritted her teeth, waiting for him to decide their insults weren’t worth it and just … poof! Leave them with no words of wisdom or plan.

  But he didn’t do any of that. Instead he pinned Saffron with an implacable look and said in a voice that sent shivers down Caia’s spine, “You’re a child of the gods and you don’t believe in fate? If you don’t believe in fate, then what have we been doing for the last seven hundred years, Saffron?”

  She grumbled under her breath and tossed her hair. “I believe in fate,” she finally said and then twitched a little before throwing herself into an armchair. “Sorry. I’m just very anxious and very tired.”

  The Prophet nodded, dismissing Saffron’s childish outburst. And then he turned his attention back to Caia. “My dear, I already know what you wish to ask. You wish to ask me, if you were to become the Head of the Daylight Coven, as Head of both covens, could we ask the gods to take away the trace.”

  Caia gaped at him. “Did Nikolai tell you?”

  “No,” the Prophet and Nikolai replied in unison.

  The Prophet tapped his fingers to his head, smiling kindly as he told her, “Visions, my dear. The gods see all and they communicate through me.”

  Excitement buzzed through them in that moment, all three leaning in toward the old man. “So?” she asked. “Will they? Will they take it away?”

  Disappointingly, the Prophet merely shrugged. “They’re still deliberating.”

  “What do you mean they’re still deliberating? What’s there to deliberate?”

  He let out a gust of laughter, leaving them all bemused, which was pretty much how the entire meeting had gone so far. “My dear girl, we are the gods’ only source of entertainment. They’ll drag this out a little.”

  “And by a little, you mean?”

  “A few days, a few weeks—”

  “Not months.” Caia gasped. “Please don’t say months.”

  “I don’t know. But as soon as I do, I will return with the answer.”

  And then he was gone.

  “Whoa.” Reuben shook his head. “That guy has had some serious work done. Last time I saw him, he was wheezing and banging around with a stick.”

  Nikolai nodded. “He really let himself go during Devlyn’s reign. My Regency did a world of wonders for him.”

  Caia stared at them like they were crazy. Sometimes they were so inappropriately blasé.

  She’d been waiting for a couple of weeks now, slowly going mad as she wandered from room to room. She’d spent her time going for runs on the beach as a human during the day and as a wolf at night. Other than Reuben’s “helpful” training regimen every day, where he tried to get her to focus the unknown energy that made her so special—and they were getting there, slowly but surely—he and Nikolai weren’t much company. When Nikolai wasn’t complaining about furniture and accessories he was losing to Caia’s training (she was successfully turning items to ash by choice), he and Reuben could sit still for hours, staring at nothing and speaking to no one. It was creepy.

  As for Saffron, the faerie came and went as she pleased, and Caia had never envied anyone more for their abilities than during those weeks cooped up in the beach cabin with only a vampyre and a magik for company. With no one to talk to, she found herself dwelling on the pack a lot. At night it was hard not to cry herself to sleep thinking about their loss.

  For her, the biggest hurt was the loss of Dimitri. It wasn’t just that he’d looked out for her or cared for her; it was more how much his loss was hurting the people closest to her—Jaeden, to be exact. Her friend had already suffered through so much. Caia ached for her. And she ached wondering if she would ever have the pack back, admitting only to herself how lonely she was without them, lonely without Lucien to fall asleep with at night.

  On top of that was her trace. It had been tingling all over the place, telling her the Midnights were reorganizing. Two magiks were out in front for leadership—Jack Straton, an Australian, and a Russian woman called Orina Beketov. Caia had been praying for Straton to make the grade since he wanted to find Nikolai first (a task she knew was impossible and would keep them occupied forever) before taking on the Daylights. Beketov wanted to begin where they’d left off, starting with a major attack against the New York Krôls, one of America’s largest vampyre covens.

  The worst day for Caia came when the trace told her Orina had won the votes. She was the new Regent of the Midnight Coven, and the woman was as vicious as they came. Her plans for the attack were set in motion, ready to take off in one month’s time. Of course, Caia had wanted to go straight to the Center to let them know so they could prepare themselves and warn the Krôls.

  But Nikolai and Reuben wouldn’t let her, and by wouldn’t let her, she meant Nikolai had put a spell around her that stopped her from using her communication spell. And she couldn’t find a way around it. Unfortunately, she still had so much to learn.

  It had been a week since she’d learned of the Midnights’ plan for attack. For once they were all together—Saffron, Nikolai, Reuben, and her—sitting around the kitchen, actually participating in conversation.

  “No, it’s definitely a different guy who’s the voice of Kermit the Frog. It has been for years,” Reuben insisted as he sipped from a mug of warm blood.

  Nikolai frowned. “No. We get Sesame Street in Russia too. You can’t fool me … Kermit has sounded the same for decades.”

  Caia tried to hide her snort in her
toast.

  Reuben groaned. “Yeah, because they found a guy who sounds exactly like him.”

  The Russian looked pensive for a moment. “So … how long are we talking?”

  “I dunno … Jim Henson died in 1990.”

  Nikolai shook his head, looking disturbed. “No, that’s not right. I’ve seen Muppet Christmas Carol. That was definitely the original Kermit.”

  “Oh.” Caia grinned, remembering watching that movie during the lonely Christmas holidays she spent with Irini. Obviously they didn’t believe in Christmas and all that stuff, but most supernaturals celebrated it to fit in with the humans. “I love that movie.”

  Saffron leaned back in her chair. “Were you even an egg when that movie came out?”

  “It was 1992.” Reuben nodded. “Caia was just about to hatch.”

  “No,” Nikolai insisted. “Then that can’t be right. You said Henson died in 1990, da?”

  “Yeah, and Steve Whitmire took over for him. He’s the voice of Kermit the Frog in the Muppet Christmas Carol.”

  This seemed to upset Nikolai, and Caia shared an amused look with Saffron. He shook his head again. “I could have sworn Kermit has always been Kermit. What I want to know is how he sounds so much like the other man?”

  Caia grunted into her juice this time. “What I want to know is how Reuben knows so much about this stuff?”

  The vampyre scowled at her. “Photographic memory.”

  “And the Jim Henson Company was one of the institutions you felt necessary to study up on?” Saffron asked, deadpan.

  Caia choked on a bite of toast.

  “Isn’t anyone going to rescue Caia from the toast?” a familiar voice intruded. Caia was suddenly whacked on the back (hard) by Nikolai, and the toast dislodged itself. She looked up to see the Prophet standing over the table.

  “Better?” he asked softly.

  She winced at the sting Nikolai’s hand had left but thanked him nonetheless before turning back on the Prophet. She gazed up at him. “Please tell me you have news.”

  He grinned back at her. “Finally, I have news.”

  “Well?” Saffron snapped.

  The Prophet’s grin grew wider. “Looks like the apocalypse is coming, children. The gods will take away the trace if Caia succeeds in becoming the Head of both covens.”

  Relief swept through her like a tidal wave, and for the first time in weeks, she felt as alive as a surfer crashing under it.

  “Ahhhh haa haaaa!” Caia jumped up happily and threw her arms around the old guy. He hugged her back tight, laughing at her excitement. After a moment, he drew back from her, his expression serious.

  “Now all you have to do is convince the Daylights of your plan and start your witch hunt for Marita.”

  She was sobered by the thought. To do this, to free them all from the trace, she was still going to have to kill someone. Yes, it was the evil bitch who’d murdered members of her pack, tortured innocent children, and inevitably caused the death of her mentor, Marion. Hmm, when she thought about it like that, maybe taking her out wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

  “The hard part is explaining all this to the Council.” Saffron sighed.

  Reuben shook his head. “Not necessarily. Vanne will believe us.”

  “Maybe.” Nikolai nodded. “But if you don’t mind, for now I’ll stay here. I don’t want to be imprisoned just for being of Midnight blood.”

  “Fair enough.” Reuben patted him on the shoulder. He looked up at the Prophet. “Thank you. Again.”

  The Prophet smiled. “It’s always a pleasure, Kirios.”

  And then he was gone.

  Caia stared a moment at the spot where he’d been standing before spinning around to face the weird trio that had become her trustworthy companions (which wasn’t saying much). “OK. So … the Center it is, then.”

  Reuben nodded in agreement. He didn’t smile but there was a new light in his dark eyes. “The Center it is.”

  19

  Blood Oath

  The atmosphere at the Center was different from before. There had always been this tension, this sense of everyone being wound tight, but also a sense of security, of feeling powerful and protected at the same time. The stressful tension, however, had unfortunately been replaced by a heightened sense of expectation, and the worst of it was, it was kind of like that butterfly-in-the-belly feeling when one was unsure of a situation. Moreover, Caia discerned a new uneasiness among the Center’s inhabitants—a paranoid awareness of one’s own surroundings, as if awaiting imminent attack.

  Reuben had called Vanne, and after explaining what Caia needed to discuss, Vanne had granted them entry to the Center. Caia hadn’t been expecting a reception, but on the other side of the portal stood Vanne, Alfred Doukas, and Penelope Argyros, and they were surrounded by other magiks acting as bodyguards. The Center was electrified with the news of Caia’s return, and she could feel the stares heating the back of her neck as she was taken through corridors she’d never walked before. Disappearing behind the group were the cold magnolia walls and tough tiled floors she’d thought made up most of the Center’s décor and appearing before them were plush carpeted corridors and mahogany-paneled walls.

  Finally, they came to what looked like a waiting room with eight-foot grand double doors beyond it. Caia stopped apprehensively. Something didn’t seem right. No one had spoken since they were greeted at the portal, and … what was this place?

  Penelope spun in her kitten heels, smiling gently at Caia, and she felt a little better. It seemed Alfred and Penelope genuinely liked her, so maybe convincing the Council wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

  “Caia.” Penelope nodded to the waiting room. “If you would like to take a seat while Saffron and Reuben follow me. We’ll be back for you in a few minutes.”

  Caia looked to Reuben, and she noted the look of realization on his face as he shared a glance with Saffron. They knew what was happening. Why the hell didn’t she?

  “What’s going on?” she asked warily.

  “You’ll understand in a moment,” Alfred assured her.

  Saffron scowled at him. “Mr. Doukas, can you not tell her? It could come as a shock.”

  What could come as a shock? Holy Artemis, what on Gaia’s green earth was going on here? Do not hyperventilate. “Yeah.” She bobbed her head. “Tell me.”

  Doukas shook his head after throwing Saffron a reproving look. “It’s not the way it’s done, Caia. I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait. Reuben, Saffron … please follow us.”

  It was only then that Caia noticed the insignificant-looking side door on the adjacent wall to the double doors. Just as they were all about to disappear through it (and no, she couldn’t get a look beyond them to see what the Hades was on the other side), she threw up a hand. “Uh, Saffron, tell them about the Krôls.”

  The faerie nodded and bent to speak with Penelope as they disappeared through the door; Caia gathered she was imparting the pivotal information.

  It felt like forever, sitting there, waiting, gradually growing so anxious, she was sure she was going to upchuck all over the waiting-room floor. Nothing had ever seemed to take as long as this wait did.

  Dear goddess, she was actually going mad from the wait. Her eyes bored into the double doors, wishing (and not for the first time) if she had superpowers, why couldn’t they include X-ray vision? Seriously, what was going on behind those damn doors, and why was it so damn quiet out here?

  Her heart jolted at a loud creaking and her eyes widened as the double doors slowly opened out toward her. She stood on trembling legs and gaped as a tall, young magik she recognized as a member of the Council stared at her pensively. His name was Derren. He was the magik who had gone undercover to discover the labs.

  “Caia Ribeiro,” his voice echoed behind and beyond him. “Please enter the Court of the Council.”

  The what of the what?

  There was no time to ask; he was already spinning on his heel. Caia hurried to f
ollow, only seeing a high, dark wooden wall carved with images of warfare. As she drew past the doors, however, her heart nearly exploded in her chest. At either side were stairs leading up into a room with the highest ceiling she’d ever seen, a ceiling so grand it could’ve been painted by Michelangelo himself.

  But the heart thudding had more to do with the faces she could see peering down at her from above the stairs. Derren waited at the top of the set to her left. Tentatively, Caia climbed them and as she did so, she saw over the carved wooden wall. The stairs led up to a massive circular room. In the center was a round platform ringed by rows of benches that rose away from the floor at a steep gradient. The rows were filled with inquisitive Daylights peering at her in a mixture of anxiety and excitement. At the farthest end of the hall, in the front row benches, sat the Council, waiting expectantly. Reuben and Saffron were seated with them beside Vanne.

  “Follow me,” Derren demanded, and Caia crossed the platform, surprised her legs didn’t buckle. The hush that filled the hall was crippling, all eyes burning into her. Was the entire Center here? She felt her cheeks heat under their watchful eyes. The funny thing was, she thought she might be able to cope better if she were in wolf form.

  Instead she straightened her spine and followed Derren until he stopped in the center of the room.

  Am I on trial?

  She really wanted to ask but was frightened of messing up this ceremony—or whatever it was.

  Once Derren was seated with the others, an elegant man stood. Caia recognized him as the guy who hadn’t seemed to like her much when she’d first met with the Council to tell them about the underground labs. He should be fun.

  Like Derren, his voice boomed around the entire court. “Caia Ribeiro, allow me to introduce myself.” His dark stare wasn’t at all friendly. “I am Benedict De Jong, a member of the Council. We have just spent the last thirty minutes—”

  Thirty minutes? That was all?