Falling Ashes

by Annie Anderson

  “Come on Asher,” Evan says at his elbow, and she escorts him from the room, practically dragging him behind her up the stairs.

  My eyes are on the stairs long after he disappears from my sight. In those moments, I take the time to shore up my heart. I don’t need to rely on Asher. I shouldn’t even rely on Aurelia or Rhys or prey on the hospitality of the Wraiths.

  I should do the right thing. For once, I should do what I’ve always needed to do. But I need to be able to walk to do it. I take a deep breath and turn my eyes to Ian, who is patiently waiting for me to get my shit together enough to let him do his job.

  “Thank you for helping me. I will do my very best to rein in my ability. If you feel uncomfortable putting your hands on me, I will understand,” I say, my words burning me as they haltingly tumble from my mouth.

  “Meh, you haven’t killed anyone yet. I’ll risk it.”

  That flippant comment is like an open-handed slap in the face, so sharp I have to close my eyes to the sting. It takes everything I have in me not to cry, but a hole opens up in my chest all the same. The blistering ache of regret settles in my belly, and I have to grit my teeth against the burn. When I open my eyes again, Ian’s dark brown eyes are compassionate.

  “If I could teach you to do it yourself, I would, but this can’t be done alone,” he whispers, “You’ll just have to try your best, okay?”

  I nod and brace myself more against my abilities than the pain. I feel Ian’s kindness, his happiness. I concentrate on his light, refusing to let the blight that is my powers affect him. He gently places his right hand on the inside of my knee and his left on the outside of my thigh. He locks his eyes with mine and nods. I take a deep breath, nod to him to continue, and he wrenches my leg, pulling it to him first before letting it go. The joint makes a horrible squelching noise before I hear a huge pop and the bone settles back into place.

  And then I promptly empty the contents of my stomach on Ian’s boots.

  “Well, that hurt,” I rasp before passing out right there on the bench.

  * * *

  “You cannot just rely on your abilities, Mena. What if you are drained or injured? You have to learn how to defend yourself, darling girl,” Papa urges, tossing me the blade. I awkwardly catch it, fumbling a little before nearly slipping in the forest bracken beneath my slick shoes. I look at my father’s face; Aurelia and I inherited our sharp cheekbones from our father. Aurelia also got the paleness of her eyes from him.

  My poor sister. Sometimes I just wish I could hug her. She is so alone in this family.

  “Is there some reason I need to train for combat – which is ridiculous in its own right – wearing this silly corset?” I ask, irritated, sorrowful and marginally confused.

  My mother just started making Aurelia and I wear them. She said they were what all respectable young ladies wore, and now that we were becoming women, we needed to dress appropriately. I hate them. They are tight and uncomfortable and completely unnecessary.

  “I am only twelve, can’t I be a child a bit longer before the world falls in?” I only talk this way when no one is around. If my mother or Aurelia heard me be this cheeky, I am sure I would never hear the end of it.

  “No. You cannot,” he nearly shouts, and I am appropriately chastened. My abilities have always been evident, even as a baby, just as Aurelia’s have, but now that our monthlies have started, we are infinitely more potent. This frightens my parents, I think – to have two children so powerful. To trust this big of a secret to a child. I don’t tell them that it frightens me as well.

  That I am scared of myself.

  I need to stop whining and focus on the lesson my father is trying to teach me.

  “I am sorry, Papa. I know you are trying to protect me. I shall focus,” I tell him, my eyes downcast.

  “Good. You know, you sounded like your sister just then,” he says, amused, and it startles me enough to snap my eyes back to him. He seems proud of Aurelia, and I think I love my father just a bit more for that. He so rarely speaks of her to me.

  “All right, Papa. Show me how to use this infernal thing,” I order in my haughtiest tone, giving him a bit of my twin since she can’t be here to do it.

  * * *

  I wake up nestled in the softness of a down comforter, the covers pulled up to my chin, remembering that one happy memory of my father.

  Before the training started in earnest. Before Aurelia was shunned. Before I killed him. I wish I would have known. I’m pretty sure I would have left back then. Saved them from the cancer that is my very existence.

  A faint sizzle and crack of a fire hisses in the periphery of my consciousness, and I am aware of my body for the first time in a long time. I wish I could go back to the painless state I was in before because this is awful.

  My first thought is how hungry I am followed directly by an ache in my joints so fierce my appetite dies a quick death. A soft rap on the door pulls my focus from my bones to the blonde oak door. The doorknob turns, and Aurelia’s head pops around it to check on me. Her eyes are wary, but she shoulders the door open, a tray laden with every bland breakfast food imaginable in her hands. There is toast and scrambled eggs and small golden brown cubes of potatoes.

  “I figured you’d be hungry, and I brought some over the counter painkillers to help with the remnants of the pain,” she says. “We had Ian check you over while you were passed out. He didn’t find anything else during his exam, and you should be healed up in a few more hours.”

  Her voice sounds like she’s saying she’s sorry, but I have no idea what she has to apologize for. As always with my twin, I never have to wait to know what’s on her mind. She sets the tray down on a wide mahogany nightstand. She sits next to me in the crook of my hip, handing me two white pills and a glass of water. I promptly pop them in my mouth and take a swig of water to wash them down.

  “I’m sorry I left you to deal with that by yourself. I know it can’t be easy being here, and it’s my responsibility to make you safe. I didn’t see you before. I-I should have seen you in that hell. I should have go-gotten you out,” she says, her voice clogged with tears and guilt, the sound giving me a strange ache deep in my chest.

  “Why would it be your responsibility? You didn’t shove me in that cell. As far as I can see, all you’ve ever wanted from me is to be a sister to you. I’m the one who failed you. More than you know. I have done things… Things that I wish I could take back,” I end on a whisper.

  Well, isn’t that the understatement of the century?

  I bite my tongue so I don’t just blurt out my sins to her. As hard as our parents were, as much as she went through with all of us, I still have no doubt she would hate me forever for what I’ve done.

  “I think we’ve all done things we’re not proud of. We’ve all done things we wish we could take back. My sins are no different than yours. No matter what you think you’ve done, no matter what sins you think you have on your soul, I’ll still love you.”

  All I can do is nod. Sure, she says that now, but I can’t know how she’ll react when I tell her. I can’t know… And I can’t lose her before I’m ready. I need these last few days. I look at her face. Memorizing what is already burned into my brain. The shape of her eyes, the slope of her nose, the sharp cut of her cheekbones. My eyes drift to the colorful swirls on her arms. The artist who created them makes me almost weep at their beauty. I look closer and notice slight ridges hidden underneath the pictures.

  Scars.

  “Your tattoos are beautiful,” I say as I reach out to touch her arm. It is a testament to how much she trusts me that she doesn’t flinch when my fingers make contact. I haven’t seen ink like this. As a Phoenix, I am no stranger to tribal markings, but these are something else. Realistic pictures mixed with brilliant splashes of color cover every available millimeter of skin from her wrist to the crown of her shoulder.

  “Thank you. I drew most of them, and I had my friend Max ink them.”

  “Do you thin
k I should get my scars covered?” I ask, but I don’t care either way. I haven’t inspected my body in ages, not after the first few scars. I was vain before my incarceration. I knew I was beautiful, and it was a solace to me when my life turned from simply lonely to completely solitary. Well, I’m not vain now. I haven’t seen a mirror in half a century, and I’m not sure I want to. I look down to the exposed skin of my arms and run a single finger over the crosshatched raised flesh. I know my abdomen and legs are worse. Iva left my face alone at least.

  There isn’t enough ink in the world to cover this much skin.

  “I think you should do what feels right. I covered them because I needed to, but ink may not be the right answer for you. You’ll have to decide for yourself,” she tells me, drawing my eyes from my ruined skin to her face.

  “When did you get so smart?” I ask.

  “Fairly recently, if you can believe it. Rhys has helped me get my shit together. I wasn’t doing so well for a while there. Now that Iva is out of the picture and my Aegis finally came back, I’m doing much better.”

  “Did you lose it?”

  “My Aegis? Yes. Iva did something to me - suppressing it or draining me – I’m not sure which, and I was in real pain for a while. I was beginning to see why Oracles cut their eyes out if you catch my drift. When she died, it started coming back. Now, I’m as strong as I was before.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” I whisper, dropping my eyes.

  “We’ll figure it out, Mena. You’re not alone anymore,” she says as she reaches for the tray piled with food and places it on my lap.

  “Now eat until you can’t fit in another bite. I actually cooked, so be happy. It’s a rare occurrence.”

  I choose a piece of toast, tearing off a piece and popping it into my mouth, relishing in the buttery goodness.

  “Well, the toast passes inspection,” I say with food still in my mouth.

  “Good. Eat up and then you can have a nice Epsom salt bath. It’ll help loosen your muscles and ease your joints. Then we get to try walking. It’ll be a hoot,” she says with a smile and cute scrunch of her nose.

  I can’t be the cold one anymore. I can’t be stoic or aloof when this great surge of gratitude steals through me. I lurch forward to give her a hug hard enough to startle an ‘oof’ out of her.

  “Love you,” I murmur.

  “Love you back.”

  I squeeze her for a second before pulling back and stuffing my face, earning me a brilliant smile.

  I’m going to miss her so much.

  8

  Slipping Through My Fingers

  ASHER

  I’m losing it.

  I’m losing everything, and as much as I claw and scrape and grab, time is slipping through my fingers. John is fading away.

  Mena.

  She is the one thing I never had ahold of. The one thing I wanted the most. But she isn’t a thing. She isn’t a toy I can’t play with, some inanimate object I just can’t grasp. She is a person, a woman, probably the strongest person I have ever met. And the one person I will never, ever have.

  As soon as Evan dragged me from the gym, I went to my quarters and systematically destroyed every breakable object I could get my hands on. Lamps, tables, mirrors… I even ripped apart the books and smashed my favorite reading chair. I needed to release all my helpless anger, my righteous indignation at the unfairness of this whole mess. I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t take her pain away. I couldn’t rip her tormentor to shreds. I couldn’t do anything.

  I need to let her go.

  But as much as I have to release her from my heart and mind, my selfish heart refuses to let her go. I gave up on my destruction, and went to the King’s chambers, looking for a reason to not crawl in a hole and die, maybe. Looking for a reason to matter. Looking for anything that will keep me from staring death in the face.

  I caught John trying to travel – the smoke swirling around him in great churning arches, but never taking him anywhere. A piece of my heart withered at that moment, and I had to grit my teeth against the burn. In the beginning, traveling is difficult – almost unbearable for a young one to achieve. It takes so much out of us, but the pain eventually goes away. At the end of our lives… it becomes impossible.

  John is at the end.

  I knew where he wanted to go, so against my better judgment, I called Cam – who now seems to have a permanent crook to his nose – and we took him to Olivia.

  And here we sit, Cam and I, perched on dainty chintz chairs in the sitting room outside the royal suite. Cam looks ravaged, pain stark on his face, and I realize - like me – he is losing a father figure, a mentor, a friend. It is so easy for me to discount Cam, to take the fact that he’s a flaming asshole most of the time for granted. But he is losing his life – just like me.

  I can’t take the silence anymore, and I gingerly rise from the fragile chair and go to the sideboard to partake of the bourbon stash. I’m even nice and pour Cam a healthy measure, and hand him the glass without a word. His eyes are almost grateful as he accepts the tumbler. He doesn’t sip the amber liquid, though. He gently rolls the glass in his hands, staring into the mouth of the tumbler as if it holds the secrets we’ve all been searching for.

  I study him for a moment before I realize he has rivulets of tears running down his face. He is silent, his face void of emotion.

  “Cam?”

  “I don’t know if you ever realized this, but my mother was a horrible woman,” he begins; his voice sounding like it has been run over broken glass. I am so shocked that Cam is speaking about his mother that I can’t say another word. Cam has always hated talking about his parents. Struck dumb, I simply nod for him to continue.

  “She was violent and mean, and I’ve never met someone who could be so evil and not be a Revenant at the same time. She drilled it into our heads that Phoenixes were a blight on this world, and it only got worse after your parents turned. Father tried so hard to temper her, but… It is the hardest thing in the world to hate someone who is already dead. To have to send your mother to hell because she was just that evil. To know my father stuck by her even though she was such an awful woman. And I am so angry that Olivia is none of that, and I can’t figure out what is killing her. Olivia has been nicer to me than my own mother. She has loved me and treated me like I was special even though I am probably the biggest asshole in the known universe. I know we won’t live much longer after they go, but it’s going to be worse than losing a limb for me. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you before it’s too late. You are my family, and I have been no better to you than the woman who bore me. I am sorry, cousin,” he ends on a whisper, the poison he’s been holding onto finally pouring out of him.

  I say the only thing I can.

  “I forgive you,” I tell him, amazed he has divulged this much about himself. Cam has always been almost one-dimensional to me, but now I can see he is more than the foul-tempered jerk he presents himself as. This hurts my heart more. I have discounted him as nothing more than a nuisance, and I am soundly ashamed to know he has endured probably more than he will ever say.

  “We should have been like brothers, Cam,” I murmur. “Better late than never, yeah?”

  He nods and sips his bourbon for a moment. We lapse into a comfortable silence for a while before John opens the double doors to the bedroom. His face is destroyed – there is no better word for it.

  “I need both of you to get Aurelia for me,” he rasps, and Cam and I spring to our feet.

  “She’s not—” Cam starts but his voice catches.

  “No. Not yet. But I haven’t even asked for her help. If she can see what’s hurting her, if she can help… we need to utilize her gifts. I have kept this under wraps too long,” John explains.

  Why didn’t we think of this earlier?

  “Is West still with you and Evan?” I ask, making sure John is covered while we are gone, my Guardian instincts kicking in even at the end.


  “Evan is sacked out on the chaise, and West is passed out on the floor beside her. I’ll wake him up if that’ll make you feel better.”

  “If you wish, Sir,” Cam concedes.

  “Oh, please. I’ve been putting you boys through hell for these last few months. The least I can do is make sure I’m covered.”

  “Come on, we knew you were an asshole before we signed up. Comes with the job,” Cam fires back.

  John nods with a wan smile and turns, heading back into the bedroom. I look at Cam and we both nod, blackness surrounding us as we travel back to the house in Grand Lake. I have traveled this path so many times over the last few months; I don’t need to concentrate on getting there. In just a few moments, we appear in the middle of the game room next to John’s favorite chair.

  “Are you going to be cool?” I ask Cam. He grimaces in chagrin and nods with a grumbled “yeah.” Since the game room is empty, we search the rest of the house, looking for Aurelia. Well, Cam is searching for Aurelia. I am thoroughly failing in my endeavor to keep away from Mena, and I can’t help but search for her instead. My body’s pull - the clawing need – to find her courses through my veins, overriding every other thought.

  My resolve to leave her alone lasted all of two hours.

  I am a fucking pillar of strength.

  It’s instinct that helps me find her. Like an ironclad fist wrapped around my heart, it pulls me, tugs me through the house to the pale wooden door of a bedroom. I know she’s there. It takes all my strength not to travel to her side, not to break this door in, to calm myself down and politely knock on the rough pine boards that make the handsomely crafted door. I rest my forehead on the cool wood.

  My first knock is faint; no one would hear it even in the stillness of the house. My second one a minute later is only marginally louder, but the door opens and I am unbalanced for a moment. Not just from the door moving from in front of me, but the sight of Mena upright and walking nearly slays me.