The Ascended: The Eight Wings Collection

by Akeroyd, Serena

  Abuela nodded, then, releasing a sharp breath, murmured, “I knew this day was coming, and I’d hoped to be around to catch the fallout for you.”

  I blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “My grandmother, your tatarabuela, had a vision. She had the Sight, and one day, she saw a de Santos del Sol daughter that was a witch with wings. A merging, a blurring of the two races.” She shook her head. “It frightened mi madre. The tale terrified her. She knew what it meant— change. When my grandfather died, she packed up our family and made the move.

  “It was hard to leave, and we had to sneak in. I was only a little girl at the time, but I remember being on that boat for hours on end, staring up at the sky as my mother and I used our powers to evade the Coastguard.” She winced. “We were exhausted. Drained for a week.”

  My eyes widened. “Drained?”

  Abuela nodded. “Yes. It was hard. What we did was difficult, but we did it for you.” She wagged her finger at me again. “I knew it the second you were born. When your mother laid her daughter in my arms, I sensed the truth—”

  “Why didn’t you tell her?” There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that my mother hadn’t known what I was. Her bewilderment and hurt had been too real the day I’d gotten my letter.

  Abuela winced. “You know what she was like. First generation immigrant… she was terrified that if she rocked the boat, she’d get me kicked off the mainland and sent back to Cuba.”

  That had me grimacing too. She was right on the money with that. My mother had calmed down after grandmother’s death, as sad as that was.

  “Anyway, I couldn’t tell her. She’d have responded badly, and I didn’t want her to treat you any differently in case something happened to me. I needed her to pass on all the lessons.”

  I slumped back into the water. “What does it mean, abuelita?”

  Her thin and bony shoulders hitched. “I can’t say, mija. Just knew you were coming, and when you arrived, it clicked who you are.”

  As I gnawed on my bottom lip, I asked, “How are you doing this?”

  “I asked an old friend for a favor.”

  My brow puckered. “What kind of favor?” I knew of no magic that could do this.

  “It kept me suspended between this world and the next until the moment came when you began to recognize your fate.”

  Mouth agape, I questioned, “But I realized it when I was eighteen.”

  She shook her head. “There have been many moments of recognition, but not the one moment that happened today.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What happened today?” Aside from getting felt up by a fairy creep, that is.

  “Your magic manifested.”

  I gaped at her. “The burn?”

  “Sí, mija. The burn. And not just a burn to anyone, but you burned one of your Virgo. Only one of them could have made your magic manifest. It doesn’t work that way in witches normally, but you’re no regular witch. Everything happens a little differently with you.”

  Water splashed over the sides of the tub as I jerked upright. Her face distorted in the waves, making me instantly regret my abrupt movements. “My Virgo? Don’t be crazy. They don’t exist!” I spat.

  “They do, and you’ve known them a while, but it took some time for both sides of your soul to recognize who they are.”

  “I don’t want them.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I don’t need them.”

  She snorted. “Yes. You do. You just don’t know what purpose they serve yet. But…” She paused, a twinkle appearing in her eye that was all the brighter for her presence in the water. “You’ll have great fun with them. That I promise.”

  If my mouth had been wide open before, that was nothing compared to now. Was she saying that she had Virgo too? “Abuela? Did you…?”

  Her lips curved. “Sí, mija. Sí. I met mine.”

  “Where are they then?”

  She winced—not for the first time. “You know they don’t always accept us.”

  I swallowed. No. In all the tales we had on the Virgo, most of the stories were sad. Recounting tales of Virgo who chose to part from us, who chose not to be with us.

  Even if our powers indicated they were our perfect match in all ways, there was no spell that could make another fall for us. No magic that could make love and matters of the heart real.

  They were true soulmates, and yet, there was balance in all things. As was Gaia and Sol’s way.

  “They rejected you?”

  Her eyelashes fluttered like she was batting back tears. “I was poor and they were not.” She released a breath that made a fine ripple whisper along the surface of the bathwater.

  “They were ashamed of you,” I ground out.

  “They were just as hopeful and as foolish as I was. They had expectations to live up to. Mine were a troupe as well.” She waved a hand that had the water rippling with the movement. “They always are troupes.”

  My throat grew tight. “This can’t be happening.”

  “Can’t it?” My abuela’s smile grew soft, sad. I was used to neither from the fiery cubana. “You’ll see, cariño, you’ll see. We don’t always have a choice, and sometimes, that causes us pain, but sometimes, it can cause great joy. Te amo, mija. Be strong. Be brave. But more importantly, be yourself.”

  “I love you!” I choked out, but it was too late. I was left staring at the water, searching for my grandmother’s beloved features, but she was gone.

  I reached up and rubbed at my forehead, and realized, swiftly, what my grandmother had just told me.

  That, at one point in her life, she’d had four lovers. At the same time.

  Very likely, in the same bed.

  My eyes flared wide at the disturbing image of my stalwart grandmother being in an orgy, and I was ninety-nine percent sure the cackle of laughter that whispered through the room on a breeze wasn’t a figment of my imagination.

  The Virgo thing… she couldn’t be right, could she? But why would she have pulled a favor of that magnitude otherwise? To tell me she’d known since my birth that I was witch born?

  As I sank back into the water once more, I summoned my phone. My magic was getting used to being drawn on, and the device slingshotted its way over to me with little fuss, decelerating at the last moment so it fit snugly in the palm of my hand. As I called up Wisdom of the Ages, our version of Wikipedia, I scoured the site for any info on Virgos.

  The Virgo of the astrological table had nothing to do with this particular Virgo. In fact, never the twain shall meet, and all that.

  For all that Fae and witch kind loathed one another, there were random cases where a set could be linked. Several Fae tied to a single witch. And what had she said? That Virgos were usually troupes, so they were warrior Fae. The most arrogant and difficult of the bunch.

  Sol, of all the Fae to have a bond with, a bond that was…

  My throat closed again.

  Everything.

  In all the tales, the bond took over your life, took over you until you were nothing but that bond.

  To us, it was as quaint a notion as the idea of soul mates to humans. Something that people vaguely wished for, that was written about in books and spoken about wistfully in movies. But in real life? Nope, it didn’t happen.

  At least, I hadn’t thought it was real. Didn’t think it could happen.

  If my abuela thought this was the true moment of recognition, that my magic had manifested for a reason, so much so it was worthy of her visiting me from beyond the grave? That was the kind of confirmation I couldn’t get away from.

  As I thought back over today, thought about the irritating moments and the less irritating ones—because everything was irritating at the Academy—it didn’t take much to figure out what exactly had drawn my grandmother’s spirit to me.

  I just wasn’t sure why.

  Why today of all days.

  I mean, I’d known the three of them since the first day of school. I’d sneered at Joseph who’d eyed me up and
down like I was shit on his shoes.

  Matthew hadn’t exactly looked at me. But then, I noticed he didn’t look at anyone. It was like he saw everything and nothing. His blank gaze filtered the world to the point where he only noticed what mattered to him, and whatever that was, I had no idea. Hadn’t wanted to know either.

  Only Daniel had been friendly. Well, friendly for a Fae. He hadn’t sneered at me like Joseph, hadn’t looked through me like Matthew, and had actually dipped his chin in greeting which was testament to him giving me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

  Just because I thought the three of them were droolworthy, just because I’d drawn a crap ton of pictures of them all, didn’t mean they were particularly nice or that I wanted more from them. If anything, I wanted nothing from them. I was pissed that they’d selected me for their troupe, and had been making my displeasure known ever since.

  For days, we’d been pushed together, and I hadn’t done anything to them.

  So, why, today of all days, had my magic manifested? How had I burned Daniel when I didn’t even know how to do that?

  I slipped my head under the water, trying to figure out what had happened.

  As my lungs burned with the need to breathe, I raised myself from the depths of the bath in a contemplative frame of mind.

  Perhaps burning Daniel hadn’t meant anything…

  Yeah. Because that would make sense, right? Talk about wishful thinking. Magic might have seemed like chaos to humans, but it wasn’t. It did everything for a reason.

  Like, maybe, making me pass an exam I’d purposely failed.

  Like, maybe, making a troupe of guys select me as their final member because they were my Virgo.

  It made sense and was all the more terrifying for it.

  As I thought over the events of today, pieces started to click into place. Leopold had patted me on the ass a few times, but the final straw had been when he’d managed to cup my tit as he’d shown me the proper stance to hold on to a sword while landing after taking flight. It had always been evident that he was just as prejudiced as the rest of the bastards here—I was human born and therefore easy pickings. I wasn’t sure why I’d expected shit to change now I was in a troupe, but it definitely hadn’t. If anything, his moves had become even more assertive.

  Rage had been simmering in my veins as a result throughout the entirety of his pathetic lesson, and when he’d managed to grope me again, I’d had enough. Using my magic to subtly add weight to the weapon and to make sure it aligned with his foot, I dropped the heavy sword onto his boot.

  Even as satisfaction had filled me, I’d still felt the remnants of rage. Up to the point where the troupe had approached me.

  I’d expected bullshit.

  What I’d received was them realizing the facade I presented to the Academy wasn’t the real me.

  That Matthew had seen me?

  Was that what had done it?

  Was that the trigger point?

  Then, after watching them train and knowing I’d never be as good as them, when Daniel had surged into my face? When he’d told me my attitude stank when they were fucking lucky I was being nice to them when all I wanted to do was whoop their asses with my magic for daring to pick me for their troupe?

  My temper had imploded. He was lucky all I’d done was burn him.

  Sol, why was this happening? I didn’t want any of it. Not the power that came from being a warrior, not the gift that Virgos were supposed to be. I didn’t want to be witch born, didn’t even really want to be a witch.

  I wanted to be a fashion designer.

  I wanted to live in the human world.

  Was that really so much to ask?

  Apparently so.

  I let my arms explode into the water. It bubbled over, splashing onto the ground either side of the bath with a violence that soothed me, but getting angry solved nothing.

  I was still a warrior. Still a part of a troupe. And still had three Virgos.

  What had my grandmother said?

  That she’d been waiting on me to accept my fate?

  My chin wobbled and I sunk under the shallow surface of the water, hating that she was right.

  This was my future. Whether I liked it or not.

  ❖

  Joseph

  “Father, all is well,” I assured him, perplexed at his continued stay on Skype.

  Usually, it was a three-minute call. That was how important I was to him. Three minutes to determine I was doing the family proud, passing all my exams, and that the faculty and the students were impressed with my skills on the field—prestige and pomp mattered more than anything to my parents, after all. That was something I’d learned as a child, and something my siblings seemed to understand and empathize with.

  At least, that was why they were robots, I reasoned.

  For myself?

  I found the formality of life in my line, the harsh structures and formal rigidity of the relationship between my parents and myself, harder to fathom.

  It made me wonder if I was soft to need some semblance of a relationship with them. But if I was or wasn’t, my desires would never be realized, and I knew that like I knew my name was Joseph vil der Luir.

  “I felt something this evening.”

  My father’s musing tone had me rearing back. Noa was many things. A harsh taskmaster, yes. A brilliant strategist, to be sure. An Assemblyman with more power than the human President, for definite.

  Musing?

  Thoughtful?

  Never.

  “What kind of something?” I questioned warily, uncertain if a punishment loomed. It didn’t matter that I’d seen twenty-five years. He’d still punish me like I was a fledgling if I didn’t do as he asked.

  His mouth tightened, and his lined face puckered as though he’d eaten something sour. When he raised his hand to rub his bottom lip, I saw his house bands. They were scratched with age, as if his wrinkles weren’t a big enough give away that he was getting on in years.

  The Fae’s lifespan wasn’t endless, not like the stories would have humans believe. We had double a witch’s lifespan of a hundred, and almost three times what a human could live—around two centuries. A little longer if we were blessed by Sol.

  My father was approaching his one hundred and eighty-sixth year. I didn’t have much time left with him, and it saddened me that I wouldn’t particularly miss him in death since, in life, we hadn’t known one another all that well.

  Still, his expression was a reminder of that as it revealed every single proof of his age—the wrinkles that cascaded along his features like lines forming in a piece of shattered glass.

  “A kind of ripple in my being.”

  I scowled at him—had he been smoking pot? The Fae weren’t supposed to imbibe marijuana. It made us do strange things, and I knew his joints acted up from time to time—not even the medics could cure the various pains and agues that came from old age. But talk of rippling?

  That went beyond strange, even for a doobie-smoking Fae.

  “What kind of ripple?” I questioned dubiously. “Were you swimming?”

  He grunted. “No, foolish boy.” His eyes flashed with temper, a flare I felt the wave of even with this distance between us—his magic was unusual. The lines of power he could tap into scared even me. “I wasn’t swimming. I was in my office, and I felt it.” A shaky breath escaped him. “I felt her.”

  “Who?” I asked quietly, surprised he was sharing this with me. I didn’t want to discourage him from opening up, but I knew I had to be careful—if I said the wrong thing again, he’d just cut the line.

  “Once upon a time…” He grunted, then cut me a look from eyes I’d inherited. They were violet, bright, and striated with silver. Proof of our regal lineage. “Why am I telling you this?”

  Hurt hit me. “I don’t know,” was all I said, honest to the last.

  He reached up and rubbed his furrowed brow. “You know what a Virgo is, boy?”

  I blinked at him. “Of course.”r />
  “You know how rare they are?”

  Shrugging, I admitted, “Very.”

  “I had one.”

  Taken aback, I hazarded a guess, “Not my mother?”

  Father released a bark of laughter. “No. Not Elyza. She was a match my father forced on me.” His lips pursed. “Did you know that Landgow Manor was once a wreckage?”

  “No, I didn’t.” As far as I knew, the ancestral home had always been a beacon for our family, a welcoming lighthouse for all in our line.

  “It was.” Another grunt. “Back when your grandfather headed the line, he made foolish decisions. They were aided by generational incompetence until finally, the buck landed on me. I had to pay the price for their stupidity.”

  I gaped at him. “You mean, you rejected your Virgo?”

  He gritted his teeth. “Aye.”

  But… “Your troupe—you mean Uncles Darvich, Lysanda, and James walked away as well?” My father had a twin, Darvich, and Lysanda and James were also vil der Luirs—cousins of the same age.

  “They weren’t a part of my original troupe. Darvich was. He suffered along with me. You know how it works. Without one, there is none. The troupe made the best of it. As have I.”

  Had he though?

  My father was constantly miserable, with a perennial scowl on his face. I’d never seen him happy. Ever. Not once. And if this was making the best of it? I dreaded to think what the worst of it was.

  “Your mother came with a lucrative dowry that put Landgow back where it should have always been—safe.”

  Dowries weren’t padded with money. Money wasn’t what we required to maintain our homes, to fight in duels. We needed a greater tithe of magic from the Assembly. My mother was the last of her line, and her father had been in the Assembly too. Two massive tithes of magic would be more than enough to resuscitate a manor like Landgow.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Perhaps another child might have been hurt on his mother’s behalf, but I was a vil der Luir through and through.

  My mother had married into a regal line, and that came at a cost. There was no love lost between either of my parents, and the truth was, I had no idea how they’d managed to have as many children as they had.