“Basta! Enough! You are a de Santos del Sol, are you not?”
“Claro. Of course.”
A soft chuckle, the exact opposite of the harsh bark that had stopped any further words from spilling from my lips, fell into the depths of the darkness. “The clue is in your name, querida. Sol. Your line is one of the oldest in the world, one of the strongest too. Our power merely grows and grows as our line continues—”
“Why?” I interrupted, curious.
“Because we have only one daughter per generation. The magic is never sullied, never spread too thin.” Another chuckle. “Your mother tried, Gaia love her, but she failed. She was destined to fail. You were her greatest accomplishment, and she didn’t even know it.”
My mouth pursed at that, because she was right. My mother didn’t know it, wouldn’t know it if it bit her on the ass.
“You are born of two lines, two families, but more than that, you are Sol-forged and Gaia-blessed—”
“There are many out there like me. My abuelos told me that themselves,” I blurted out.
“Of course there are, but there are no de Santos del Sol daughters who have the wings of an angel, are there?”
My eyes narrowed as I strained to see in the lightless darkness. I needed to look upon the woman who was telling me all this, who was trying to pass on my—cue gulp—importance in this matter, but no matter how hard I tried, I saw nothing. There was nothing to see.
“Why me?” I rattled out.
“Destinies are complex things, too complex to explain in a single conversation,” she chided. “I’m not here to explain, I’m here to instruct. To tell you what your next move must be.”
I disregarded that, discarded it like it was trash because that answer was a non-answer if ever I’d heard one. “Just try! Por favor, you say I don’t need to understand, but I have to. I need to. You can’t send me back from wherever the Sol we are without telling me something after changing everything.”
A sigh soughed into the gloom. “You’re, as they say, witch born, but more importantly, you have Virgo. Your abuelos weren’t wrong. No, witch born Fae aren’t unique, but what is are your Virgo.
“At no time, none whatsoever, in the past five hundred years, has a witch born Fae been gifted Virgo.
“The decisions of your ancestors, those living and dead, those born of witches and human and Fae alike, have brought you to this point. You represent every single decision and every single choice your line has made for hundreds of years.
“That is why. You are us. Walking, breathing, living us. We exist through you, and it is you who will change things. Who will bring power back to us.”
My mouth worked. “Who is ‘us?’”
“Why, everyone, of course.” She sighed. “Sol’s stone brings peace, not war, but to connect with it, on the islands our daughter must be.” Before I could butt in to question what that meant, before I could say another word, her voice changed, shifted from lilting notes of amusement to a dark whisper that told me she was no longer my tatarabuela, but the witch. The de Santos del Sol witch who had Seen my present when to her, it had been only a hazy future. “Where Kou morphed into a harbor forged of pearls, she will surge into the air, her wings aloft, her magic at the ready.
“Gaia’s gift to her will drain the well of her power, but her reward will be worth the loss.
“She will change, but that change is a catalyst for more than we ever dared hope.
“The balance to be redressed, Gaia’s Way to overpower Sol’s with his blessing, but only with the second angel of our line.
“So mote it be.”
And like that, as soon as the words drifted toward me, the darkness was replaced with a blinding light, and I was tossed out of wherever it was my ancestor had dragged me and back into a world where, somehow, I was a catalyst.
I wasn’t allowed to rail at a fate I didn’t want, couldn’t scream or freakout or have a meltdown—I wasn’t given a choice. One second I was with her, my dead ancestor, and the next? I was back.
With them. My Virgo.
First, I heard their voices, and then, second, as the darkness receded, I saw him. He wasn’t mine, wasn’t someone I knew and he was a danger to us. My wits were muddled, and I wasn’t sure how I knew he was dangerous, just knew that I did. He was in the distance. Miles away, so far away I shouldn’t have been able to see him in the sky, but I did.
His wings were a beacon.
He held them aloft as he flew toward us, and they were so bright and sparkled a white in the sunlight that they dazzled me until my eyes stung. I felt them drip with tears as my senses acclimated to the rays of Sol’s sun after that endless, impenetrable darkness I’d just endured.
For a second, I just tried to figure out the male’s features, tried to reconcile them with someone I knew, but when I continued not recognizing him, every single piece of my being went on red alert.
I surged upright into a sitting position, and I felt the muted conversation all around me stagger to a halt. My movements were slow, almost like my limbs were wading through oatmeal instead of air, but when I finally managed to point at the enemy in our midst, their attention turned to him and they leaped into the fray.
Knowing the threat was being dealt with, knowing that, for the moment, we were safe as my Virgo would deal with him, I allowed myself to sink back into unconsciousness.
“Duerme bien, mija, and do not fear the change. It will be the making of you and the undoing of the Assembly,” a voice whispered in my ear. It didn’t belong to anyone on this realm, but in another.
My tatarabuela.
I didn’t even have it in me to whisper my thanks for her reassurance, for the fact she’d brought me back to protect my family from a threat, just slumped on the ground and allowed my males to protect me.
As they’d been born to.
❖
Daniel
One second we were in Hawaii, and the next we were elsewhere. It was a bright and sunny place, however, the exact opposite of green and lush. We were surrounded by the bluest ocean, but it was like a concrete jungle. Well, one that was made up of dust too. Dust and sparse green brush that formed an obviously uninhabited and isolated island.
“Why are we here?” Matthew demanded of Linford.
Under my breath, I muttered, “When are we here?”
Seph grunted. “We jumped time too.”
That made sense. It had been pitch black back in Honolulu. I doubted we’d traveled far, but somehow, it was daytime too.
“Something went wrong with the portal,” Gabriella replied uneasily, and I turned to face my mate’s grandmother. She was watching Linford who, in turn, was staring up at the sky like it held the answers.
I peered upward also, but my damnable sensitive eyesight worked against me. We’d gone from the dark of night to the brightness of a midsummer day. I’d had no idea Linford could do that, and by the looks of him and his confusion, he hadn’t known he could either.
“What’s going on?” I rasped, feeling on edge because I could see how damn concerned Linford was. I didn’t like the man, thought he was rude and abrasive, but he was family now and that meant I had to put up with him. Still, from the little time I’d spent with him, I knew he had his poker face down pat.
After a lifetime as a warrior, a lifetime staving off war crimes and having to deal with the Assembly, it was no small wonder, but his poker face was nonexistent now.
In fact, he was downright worried. I could see that as easily as I could see the ocean surrounding me. Yeah, that was how small this island was. The sea was all around us in a 360-degree angle.
“What is it?” Seph demanded, evidently sensing Linford’s distress too.
“Someone hijacked the portal,” he grated eventually.
As a troupe, our blades sang as we retrieved our swords from our belts. With them aloft, we moved into a tight triangular formation, each of us having the other’s back while we treaded in a slow circle to gain perspective of all
angles.
The light was working against us, though. It made it difficult to see that far ahead, meaning we were blinded from whoever had hijacked the portal Linford had crafted for our getaway from a Fae battalion.
My eyes ached and stung from just how much the sun glittered, making it seem as though we’d walked from a dark room and out into the yard on a bright summer’s day. Worse still, of course, was the fact that since our eyes were more sensitive than a human’s, capable of seeing farther and with vivid detail, it made the pain more acute as we squinted into the blurring sky above, seeking a threat.
I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or not that Riel ruptured our focus by moaning, but the instant she did, we broke formation and turned to face her. She’d been slumped on the ground in the same position as when Linford had crafted the portal, but now she was trying to sit up. Her eyes were dazed, her face slack, and her body was limp except for where she was trying to force herself to sit up.
She reminded me of a newborn pup who had no starch to her bones, flopping this way and that. Her eyes flared wide and finally, she managed to shove her arm upright. When she pointed, we twisted, and saw the male. Still dozens of miles away, his arms were aloft, his wings held wide open as he plunged, diving toward us at high speed as though we were a mouse and he an eagle.
The second we spotted him, the second we registered the threat, Riel sank to the ground.
“Go! We can protect her,” Gabriella ground out.
There would be time later to ask Linford what the Sol had gone wrong, but I heard Gabriella’s confusion and irritation too, knew she was just as bewildered by the situation as we were.
He’d said that someone had hijacked the portal, so that meant one of two things. That Linford had forged a portal that had dragged us to this place because he’d sensed someone’s interference. Or, the interference itself had brought us here—dragging us to a location where he could stalk us. I had no way of knowing which was the case, nor did I have any time to figure it out with this bastard intent on a cat-and-mouse chase as he hunted us from above.
Knowing this wasn’t an exercise, well aware this fight would be to the death, I hollered as, wings apart, I surged into the air with my Virgo and troupe brethren beside me. Our war cries merged, forming into a single song that had the soldier staggering midflight.
There was no time to be surprised by his response, no time to even wonder how in Gaia’s name our cries had harmonized like we were a choir, instead, we took advantage.
Yes, we were three-on-one, and yes, Matt and Seph had been fighting since they were children, but I was late to the party—had only picked up a sword when I was fourteen and I’d plagued my mother for lessons until she’d caved in. We’d trained and trained, been instructed on the art of fighting, but we’d never engaged in a real battle. Had never had to sink our swords into another’s gut and end their time on this realm.
Though Sol was the God to seek protection from in time of battle, I didn’t plead with him for his aid. Instead, I sought calm from Gaia, requested her gentle nurturing, and begged her to protect us all for Riel’s sake.
With that prayer whispering in my mind on repeat, we converged on the male. He had two swords in his hands and he wielded them like the expert he was. Looking upon his wings, I felt his age and experience slash at me, for a Fae warrior in his prime was worth ten fledgling troupes.
The blades sang in the air as he whipped them around, his hands circling as he spun them in a wide arc. The motion was one we mimicked as we prepared our wrists for the fight ahead.
For a second, no one moved save for the circling of our hands. We just took the other’s measure. From his whiter than white wings and the faint crinkles around his eyes, I’d already registered that he was in his prime, maybe advancing toward retirement, truth be told, but that didn’t diminish his powers.
Maybe because I was studying him, I saw the arrogant smirk ahead of the others. That faint twist of his lips told me what he was about. Before he could raise his sword, I darted forward, drawing his attention toward me. I stabbed at the air, whispering the tip of the blade near his chest, drawing both of his swords toward mine. When he used his in a scissor motion, the clang of metal against metal made my ears ring, but I felt Seph shift closer, and in a wide arc, batter him from the side with the flat of his sword.
The warrior didn’t even grunt as he dragged his blade against mine to release them, but I dropped mine, letting it fall so I could jab forward, watching as Matt circled the warrior and approached him from the back. He lunged forth and, in a quick flurry of thrusts, had the warrior twisting around to engage us all. I knew the biggest danger here was to ourselves, with five swords in play, we could easily be injured in the melee if we weren’t careful.
Our blades issued haunting cries as they jolted with each clash. The male held us off as we spun around him, turning the warrior in a circle he had no alternative but to follow as we messed with his composure. I wasn’t sure how we knew what to do, not when we’d mostly parried against one another—not having trained as a troupe to fight another since that didn’t happen until after we’d won our first trial—but somehow, we were in sync.
The male wasn’t even sweating, he showed no signs of fatigue, and yet, I could sense his surprise. Each jab he made, each hit he took, he absorbed with slight exasperation, as though he wasn’t sure why he was allowing this to continue. We were weaker than him, less experienced in an art that took decades of warfare to hone, yet we managed to hold him off.
He raised one of his swords and slashed downward. Seph groaned as the blade connected with his body. Twisting to face him, I saw the blood blossoming on his chest, the thick, dark blue liquid blooming through his shirt, almost purple in its hue. That the wound was deep was a given, especially when he cupped his arm against him, holding it pressed to his chest in a protective stance.
The warrior, taking advantage of his first hit, leaped forward, his swords slashing at Seph in an attempt to take him out. Matt, spying this, thrust his blade at the warrior’s swords, knocking him off target. With his attention split in two, I charged forward and, with a move I was starting to think of as my signature, thrust the blade deep into his belly.
As I plunged it all the way to the hilt, the warrior’s wings stopped fluttering. His body tensed, his entire being rejecting what had happened to him, almost as though he couldn’t understand why we had bested him, but best him we had, and in a shameless amount of time considering our youth in the face of his experience.
With a smirk, I withdrew my blade, enjoying his cry of pain since his intent to harm us had been evident. Matt, feeling the bloodlust as well, grabbed the male’s hair and tugged it back. The white-blond locks spilled over Matt’s chest, as did the blood that gurgled from the warrior’s mouth as his body began to shut down from the fatal blow I’d granted him.
“Did you bring us here?” Matt demanded, and I frowned at him.
Of all the questions we could ask the warrior, that was the first he went with?
The warrior’s eyes glazed. “Yes.”
“How?” Seph quizzed, and though he should have been in as bad a state as this male, he evidently wasn’t. He was no longer bracing himself, his wings weren’t stuttering, and the bright blue blood wasn’t seeping through his shirt.
Before I could eye that overlong, I turned back to the male who sputtered out a laugh. “The meteors bring gifts, gifts that are impossible for the imagination to even comprehend. You’ll see.” Another wet gurgle of laughter. “You’ll get the lion’s share, lucky bastar—”
“Charming last words,” I muttered, watching as Matthew released the male’s hair and ceased holding him up.
The warrior’s wings created some drag, but without any movement behind them, they were torn about in the wind as gravity took a firm hold of him. When he plummeted to the ground, his body a distinctly blue splat thanks to the height from which he’d dropped, I eyed him then turned to Seph.
“You�
�re well?”
He lifted his shirt, revealing a blood-smeared abdomen, but no cut.
I frowned at the sight. “He almost gutted you.” Tucking my sword back in its sheath, I rushed forward and pressed a hand against his perfectly healed belly. “How’s that possible?”
Matt’s focus was on the downed male. “He said it himself. The meteors bring gifts.”
“Not even the healers can redress an injury that bad without requiring some time to recover,” I pointed out.
Seph nodded. “I feel like I wasn’t hit.”
“The lion’s share, he said,” Matt murmured, but then he twisted about and looked at the small circle of people who had become kin to us all. “But we all know Riel got most of it.”
“Her magic—”
“Exactly,” I interjected, breaking off Seph’s words. “The net she cast had to have absorbed the majority of it.”
Seph’s jaw tensed. “We can’t lose her.”
“She isn’t dead,” Matt rasped. “She’s the one who warned us about the warrior.”
My brow furrowed. “She was unconscious. How in Sol’s name did she do that?”
Matt’s unease was evident. He rubbed the back of his neck, inadvertently dredging himself in the warrior’s blood as he mumbled, “I don’t know, and I’m not even sure I want to find out.”
Seph blew out a breath. “Me either.” He twisted around and asked, “Where the Sol are we, anyway? Why did he bring us here?”
From this height, we could see the span of the island and it was beyond tiny. There was a long runway and it was dotted on either side with abandoned buildings.
“I could be wrong,” Matt started, “but I read about an atoll in the Pacific. It’s one of a chain of minority islands that’s U.S. territory. I saw a picture once—” He shook his head, reached up to rub his temple, and caused more blood to decorate his skin—he looked like a warrior of old painted in his enemy’s blood. “Johnson Island… maybe? Something like that anyway.”
The Ascended: The Eight Wings Collection Page 40