Empire of Ash: A Passionate Paranormal Romance with Young Adult Appeal (God of Secrets Book 1)

by L. R. W. Lee

  “He kept your secret.” I pray Zeki’s isn’t one of the leaked secrets Harpoc mentioned. “No one knows your operation is illegal. You’ve no doubt made loads of money. Better half of the profits than none at all.”

  Zeki laughs.

  But I’m not done. “You didn’t have to tell him your secret. It’s yourself you should blame, not the King of Roses. You should have known secrecy comes at a steep price.”

  Zeki’s smile turns into a frown.

  Way to go, Pell.

  “As you would know…” He raises a brow. “… the king doesn’t quote a price up front. He forced me to divulge my secret first, before telling me what it would cost, so if I chose not to go through with it, he’d tell all.”

  I stiffen. His confession takes me off guard.

  He forces a laugh. “It seems you don’t know him as well as I presumed.”

  Zeki’s a monster, no way am I taking his word for it. I don’t agree at all with what Harpoc does, but he’s not responsible for what his “clients” do after the fact—yes, I’ve learned a thing or two about responsibility. So I don’t blame Harpoc for my predicament, aka Zeki’s actions. I just wonder how he’ll deal with his scummy clients when he finally tracks me down, because it better be good, or I will go ballistic on him.

  Zeki’s nod toward Eser refocuses my attention in an instant and the boy shuffles toward me, stopping before Gorilla #3 who’s still kneeling, keeping my leg still.

  Eser stares at the ground, refusing to meet my eyes, clearly fearing I’m going to blame him for what Zeki’s about to make him do.

  Harpoc! Damn it, man!

  “I don’t blame you, Eser. It’s not your fault.” I’ve no doubt he’ll receive my stripes if he doesn’t do this. Shit, they might even make me deliver them on the boy, sick bastards.

  Eser looks up, a mixture of guilt and hope pooling in his eyes.

  “Enough talking. Eser, you know what you need to do. Let’s start with ten stripes.”

  He inhales sharply. He knows what this feels like and no doubt no one’s held back on him. His shoulders slump, but he nods, then looks back at me as he raises the stick and brings it down.

  Shit my wound stings! I manage to bite back the pain and keep my features neutral, for Eser.

  “You can do better than that, boy.” Zeki’s tone is gentle, but no one misses the underlying threat.

  This sick bastard deserves to die; they all do, standing here condoning this.

  The corner of Eser’s eyes fill, and I can tell he’s trying to swallow down tears as he brings the stick up, then smashes it on the sole of my foot again.

  I can’t help but close my eyes this time, swallowing a yip.

  “Do you need to feel it, to try harder, boy?”

  Eser shakes his head and brings the stick up again.

  Where’s Harpoc? How long will this continue?

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I can’t hold in a grunt as Eser brings the stick down again, harder this time, as tears run freely down his cheeks.

  Damn it, Harpoc! You told me you’re a god, act like one!

  It’s broad daylight, the white fabric of the tent makes it even brighter, and I close my eyes and clench my jaw, preparing for the next strike.

  I groan as it lands.

  For a kid, Eser’s got some strength in those scrawny arms. But I don’t blame him, we’re both just trying to survive.

  Eser’s dealt four blows, and I open my eyes to see how he’s holding up, then furrow my brows. The light’s playing tricks on me because I swear I see dark shadows beginning to coalesce around the perimeter of the structure.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them again as the next blow lands. I can’t help but cry out.

  Damn, that hurts!

  I’m never getting a foot massage; no one’s ever touching my feet again.

  I scan the perimeter again, hoping.

  Please, be Harpoc.

  The shadows grow thicker, then turn inky black, swirling fast and faster around me.

  “Don’t hurt the boy!” It’s all I can get out before the sound of grown men screaming fills the void my cries leave.

  Harpoc’s essence… I guess that’s what you call it… fills my vision. He’s everywhere, and I’m blind in the pitch-blackness despite it being daytime.

  More shrieking harmonizes with things crashing, glass shattering, and something else smashing.

  I’m worried about the boy as the sounds of destruction and agony go on and on. I pray Harpoc heard me.

  Pained cries finally die.

  The darkness ebbs as Harpoc’s dark swirls gather as if a giant vacuum sucks them up, and he steps out.

  Our eyes lock, and I give him a small smile. My conquering hero.

  Harpoc’s on the ground beside me in an instant and my bonds vanish in the next, then he’s pulling me up and into his arms and hugging me tight, panting. No doubt reassuring himself as much as me, judging by the fierceness of his hug.

  Only now do I let tears come, releasing the terror I feel.

  Harpoc rocks me in his lap, his arms never easing until I push back after a minute and spot Eser watching us. His eyes are wide where he still cowers, as small as he can make himself, not far away.

  I swipe at my cheeks and motion him forward. “It’s okay, Eser.”

  The sun shines down on us, the tent is gone. It looks like what I envision a war zone to resemble with unrecognizable shrapnel and red everywhere. There’s a stench that turns my stomach, and it’s not weed.

  “Where’d the gorillas go?” I rub my aching wrists as Eser shuffles to a skittish stop beside us, his eyes taking in every inch of Harpoc.

  “They won’t bother us again.” It’s all Harpoc says, but his scowl as he sees me rub my arms tells me he’s pissed at my treatment.

  “King of Roses,” I say because I don’t know if we’re breaking cover. “I’d like you to meet Eser. He… helped me.”

  Eser stiffens.

  “Looked like he was doing anything but,” Harpoc replies, a growl in his voice.

  The boy bites his lip, then, staring at the ground, says, “I’m… I’m sorry, lady.” It’s the first words I’ve heard out of him.

  My heart breaks. “Eser, it’s not your fault.”

  He looks over at me, eyebrow raised.

  I glance at Harpoc. “Eser, don’t take responsibility for things that aren’t your choice.”

  Harpoc tilts his head and I can practically hear him say, “Grasshopper is learning.”

  Eser gives me a conflicted look.

  “Would you have struck me if Zeki hadn’t forced you to?”

  “No. Never. I would never hurt you, lady.” Determination shines in his eyes.

  I smile. “I know.”

  “Don’t feel bad, then. He would have beaten you.”

  Eser slowly nods as if he doesn’t want to agree, then keeps glancing between me and the ground, clearly having a hard time accepting that I’m not mad at him.

  A horrific thought strikes me, and I have to know. “King of Roses, did you know they abducted Eser?”

  “They didn’t.” His voice is firm.

  My eyes go wide.

  “His father traded him for pot. To support his habit.”

  My mouth drops open.

  “You knew?” I push against his chest, wanting nothing to do with someone who would not only condone such a secret, but hide it.

  Margo, now this? Betrayal and disgust wash over me, and I try to scramble away, but Harpoc holds me in place.

  “How could you agree to hide such a secret? How could you?”

  “It wasn’t a secret.” Harpoc tenses, no doubt scorched by the fury in my eyes.

  I do a double take, and my voice rises. “How could it not be a secret?”

  “It’s true, miss.” Eser squats, still eyeing Harpoc.

  “You think your upbringing was hard, Pell.” Harpoc bobs his chin at the boy.

  My skin tingles. I can’t get my brain
around it. His father sold him for pot, and everybody knew it?

  My parents gave me away… because they loved me—it’s what I always tell myself—not to pay for a habit they couldn’t afford, and not to some abuser.

  “While I don’t approve, it’s better than him becoming a child soldier, begging, or being trafficked for pornography by the mafia.”

  I shake my head. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Stories like that should only be on the news, not real.

  “So what happens to him now?”

  “Eser, how would you like to go back to your family?” Harpoc asks.

  A smile breeches the boy’s face.

  “No, you can’t send him back,” I protest. “He’ll just end up someplace worse.”

  Eser’s shoulder’s slump, telling me he knows the truth of it.

  Harpoc smiles, then holds up a finger and I furrow my brow.

  “Eser, if I could hide you from your father, how would you like to go home?”

  That gets the boy’s attention and his eyes open wider. “Could you bring my brother and sister back, too?”

  My stomach tenses. His father’s a wretch. Selling other children, too? Castrate the bastard.

  Harpoc laughs. “Yes, and I’ll do you one better, I’ll protect your younger siblings from him, too… and no one will ever know. How would that be?”

  Eser beams.

  But I hold up a hand. “You’re making a deal with him. What are you going to charge?”

  Harpoc gazes into my eyes. “What should I charge for keeping him and his siblings secret from their father?”

  My nostrils flare. “Not a damn thing.”

  Harpoc makes like he’s thinking on it, tapping his lips and tipping his head this way and that. He thinks he’s being cute.

  He’s anything but in my book, and I growl, my anger at him and what he allows, getting the better of me.

  That stops him in an instant. “I wasn’t going to charge him.”

  His long look tells me he knows there’s something more I’m not saying. He’s right. But unlike him, it won’t remain a secret as soon as I figure out what to do about it.

  Eser’s trying to play it cool, but he’s practically jumping up and down.

  “Before we take him home, Pell, let’s have a look at your foot,” Harpoc says, and guilt again overwhelms the boy.

  “Eser, stop. Don’t feel guilty,” I say.

  Harpoc takes my foot and frowns when he gets a good look. Between dirt, blood from the rock piercing it earlier, and stripes from that damn stick, it’s a lovely mess.

  I wince when he covers my sole with his hand.

  Eser’s eyes pivot between me and Harpoc, watching intently as I feel the tingling of Harpoc’s healing penetrate, then soothe my wounds until there’s no pain left.

  He does the same to my wrists.

  “Better?” he asks a minute later as he removes his hand and inspects his work.

  I move my wrists and wiggle my toes, examining all. “I suppose it’ll do.”

  Eser laughs. Harpoc forces a chuckle.

  “What about the boy?” I ask.

  The boy looks at me, then at the ground, and I can’t read him, but he shakes his head. Maybe it’s the closeness that scares him, I don’t know, but at least his stripes aren’t raw.

  “Wear them with pride,” Harpoc says.

  Eser looks up with furrowed brows.

  “You were stronger than the bad men, never forget that.”

  Understanding dawns and Eser nods, then smiles.

  “You’re a strong boy,” I add.

  Eser doesn’t reply, but squares his shoulders.

  I hope this experience has made him stronger because his life will still be hard, no doubt.

  “Shall we then?” Harpoc asks, pulling me up to standing.

  “Do you know where his family lives?”

  “I do. We’ll tripskip since there’s three of us.”

  Eser’s forehead wrinkles.

  “I threw up one of my first times tripskipping, Eser.”

  The boy bites his lip.

  “You’re not helping.” Harpoc eyes me.

  “It’s the wildest thing you’ve ever felt, but it only lasts a couple seconds.”

  Eser shuffles his feet.

  Harpoc clears his throat. Loudly. “And on that note.”

  I step into Harpoc’s side and draw an arm around his waist. After a long look, Eser mirrors me on Harpoc’s other side, and I wrap my arm around Eser’s.

  “There’s one thing I need to do before we go,” Harpoc says.

  I glance up in time to see him gaze across the debris field, then nod.

  Flames ignite. Everywhere. As far as I can see.

  Then everything goes dark and disorientation grabs me.

  Eser’s no worse for wear when we reappear. In fact, he practically skips the instant we set down.

  I swallow. Hard. I can’t let a little kid best me.

  Harpoc chuckles.

  We drop Eser and his elder siblings off at home to many tears and much rejoicing from their mother. Their father is stoned out of his mind.

  Harpoc reassures me that the bastard will never again know of the existence of his children, and when I press about how that’s possible, all he says is, “You have to sense someone, to know they exist.”

  It’s not an answer, surprise, surprise, but what do I expect from the god of secrets.

  “By the way, how did you find me?” I ask, readying to head wherever we’re going next.

  He gives me a long look and a myriad of emotions—happiness, anxiety, confusion, and more—war across his face. There’s such variety and diversity to them that I can’t make heads or tails of what it means, before he looks away.

  Damn it, Harpoc, it’s a simple question.

  “Ready to visit King Midas?” he says, at length, like that last discussion is over.

  “No.” Frustration laces my words.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  At this moment, I can care less about King Midas. I’m ready to throttle Harpoc, damn god of secrets.

  It’s a f-ing simple question, how did you find me?

  Hurt wars with reason.

  Between this and my pent-up frustration over what he does, I only barely leash my irritation. I’d hoped, at a minimum after yesterday, there’d be no more secrets.

  Clearly, I’m wrong. Trust is a one-way street, it seems.

  “Perhaps we should rest for the remainder of the day,” he says, changing course.

  I level a look at him.

  “Yes, rest. Definitely.” He smiles.

  I cross my arms, tapping my fingers against one.

  “Will you at least let me take you to lodgings?” He looks earnest and hopeful, and even though I’m thoroughly pissed at him, it’s hard to resist his charm.

  Suck. Ker… I hear my inner self yell.

  I know, I know, so shoot me.

  “Fine,” I finally reply, lacing it with more than a hint of pissiness.

  He grimaces. At least he realizes things are not cool with me. I feel like a bully, but at this moment I’m too ticked to care.

  Imagine, little ol’ me bullying a god. The thought nearly makes me laugh and break my badassiness—yes, a new word. But I won’t. Harpoc needs to learn. I drown all levity.

  “Fly or tripskip?”

  When I give him another long look, arms still crossed, he says, “Yes, fly. Definitely.”

  I surrender to his arms without a word, and for the next hour I hear only the sounds of travel, well that and another damn flock of geese gives us grief, but Harpoc shows them the ferocity of a god and they buzz off—or hiss off, I should say—several feathers shorter.

  Serves ’em right.

  Funny enough, I’ve no inclination to play with the buckles on his duster as I sit, arms still crossed, in his arms. I suppose I look a bit silly trying to be tough in bare feet and sweats, but it doesn’t seem to matter because I’m clearly communicating.

/>   Harpoc finally sets us down on the far side of a huge parking lot, and I take in the sight of Morrion Hotel.

  The place looks like someone’s interpretation of a landlocked cruise ship with all the rooms stacked, making up an overlarge version of that funnel tower that sticks up above everything.

  From the immaculately manicured shrubs we pass as we walk up the drive, I presume it’s as lovely as the other two hotels we’ve stayed in.

  A periwinkle-blue uniformed man glances at my feet but refrains from comment as he opens the door for us, and my attention is immediately drawn to the honking crystal chandelier. It’s a wonder it doesn’t rip the floor above from its moorings.

  Harpoc heads for the check-in desk, and I hurry to keep up because we… need an intervention.

  “We’d like a room for one night,” he says, smiling at the similarly uniformed woman behind the desk.

  I’m struck by her arresting steel-gray eyes. Against her olive skin and jet-black hair, they’re beautiful. What is it with me and that complexion palate?

  “We’d like two double beds, please,” I add, grabbing my navy hoodie’s strings and running them through my hands.

  A corner of Harpoc’s mouth turns up as he glances over at me. The leather of his duster squeaks against the counter as he leans in.

  “Oh, certainly. Let me see what we have.” She takes to tapping on the computer’s keys and after a minute, furrows her brow then starts tapping all the harder, as if that’s sure to dig up something she misses in her first pass.

  I know what’s coming before she looks up a couple minutes later. Sure Harpoc’s magic can’t manipulate their system.

  “I’m so sorry, but all of our rooms with double beds are sold out. May I offer you one with a foldout couch instead?”

  Elbows on the counter, I give Harpoc a pointed frown.

  He turns his hands palms up and shrugs, to which I roll my eyes, making sure he sees me.

  “One king will be fine then,” I say, relenting.

  A god fits in only a king-size bed. I laugh to myself, what’s that say about… size of other parts?

  That’s a good one, Pell. My inner voice is enjoying my pissiness.

  Several minutes later, Harpoc holds the door to our room open for me, and I stride in to find the promised king-size bed against a pale-lilac wall that’s inlaid with contrasting panels.