Libra Ascending: An Epic Urban Fantasy Romance (Zodiac Guardians Book 1)

by Tamar Sloan

  As Cassandra stared at Brielle, her usually sunny amber eyes darkened. Her smile faded. She dropped Brielle’s hands and stepped back. Cassandra was well-known for her quick temper, and Brielle had clearly set it off.

  Drawing her hands down her face, Brielle looks at Adalind. “She wouldn’t believe me. She thought I was jealous.”

  “Why are you trying to ruin this for me?” Cassandra had accused, her tone deep, angry. “You can’t get adopted so you’re trying to make sure I don’t either?”

  “No! I want you to have every happiness in the world. I want to get adopted just as much as I want it for myself. But the Sinclairs are bad news. I’m just trying to protect you, you’re my best friend.”

  Cassandra’s golden curls ruffled around her face as her body tensed. The explosion was imminent. “So that’s what this is about. I got a new friend and suddenly you’ll do everything you can to keep me around. Even make up lies about my new parents. I can’t believe you could be so selfish as to try to mess this up for me!” Her pitch rose with each word, amping Brielle’s desperation higher, too.

  “I love you like a sister, you have to know that,” Brielle pleaded. “I swear this has nothing to do with jealousy or selfishness or anything that petty. I would never keep you from achieving the dream we both have, but if you go with the Sinclairs, that dream will become a nightmare.”

  Cassandra shook her head, stalking closer. “You don’t think I know what happened? I heard from the other girls that the Sinclairs were interested in you first, and that they rejected you. I had hoped I could change their minds, plead on your behalf and they’d take both of us. But now… Now that I see you’d go to such lengths to ruin this for me because you ruined your own chances… I’m glad I’m getting out of here, and leaving you behind.”

  Brielle had no other choice. She had to confess. If she didn’t tell Cassandra, so much more than just their friendship would be destroyed.

  “You want to know the truth?” Brielle yelled, stomping her foot in aggravation. “They didn’t reject me, I rejected them. I saw the horrible things that Mr. Sinclair had done. He hurts women, Cass! He likes inflicting pain. I didn’t want to have to live with a father like that, so I outed him and begged Sister Agatha not to let him adopt anyone here. He’s dangerous.”

  Cassandra narrowed her eyes into slits. “What do you mean, you saw?”

  A lump instinctively constricted Brielle’s throat, her body’s natural defense against spilling her secret. She’d never told anyone, not even Cassandra. She didn’t want Cassandra to think she was crazy. But now, she had to, to save her friend.

  “I get…visions,” Brielle confessed, the soft volume of her voice such a contrast to the yelling of a moment ago that her ears rang. “I see the bad things people have done, things they feel guilty about. You know how I can always tell when you’re lying? Well, it’s not always just a sense. Sometimes, I see the truth, like it’s happening to me.”

  Cassandra’s eyes gradually widened as Brielle spoke, her head shaking harder and harder. “You’re crazy,” she whispered. “The other girls always told me things about you, but I never believed it. I defended you. I don’t know you at all.” Her doll face furrowed into the nastiest snarl Brielle had ever seen. “You’re not my sister, you’re not my friend, and I truly hope the Sinclairs move me far away from here because I never want to see you again.”

  The sheer hatred in Cassandra’s voice took Brielle’s breath away, and she’d stood frozen, heartbroken, as Cassandra grabbed the bag she’d been packing and stormed out of the room for the last time.

  Brielle shrugs. “I think in the end, Cassandra was happy that they didn’t move her far away, because it meant she got to torture me every day.”

  “That’s awful,” Adalind says, the fry she’s been holding during the story likely cold and dry now. “So the folks that adopted her are bad news? She seems happy with them. Or at least with their money.”

  Brielle nods. “I’m glad I was wrong about them. I really am. I worried about her for a long time. But after a year or so of the hazing and turning everyone at school against me, I got over it. I just wish things had gone differently.”

  “Why? You actually wish you were friends with that hateful cow?” Adalind throws her fry onto her tray.

  “If we’d stayed friends, she might not be so hateful,” Brielle says.

  “Or you might be just as nasty as she is. That’s not a trade I’d make.”

  Brielle smiles, wondering if Adalind is right.

  “How did you know the guy was bad?” Adalind asks, the familiar spark of intrigue in her narrowed eyes. “Cassandra’s father? You said you found out what he’d done and told on him, but how did you find out?”

  Brielle had vowed to never tell another friend about her curse, and she isn’t going to start now. “Just rumors I’d heard,” she lied. “And when I got close to him, I don’t know, I just sensed he was dangerous. I like to think I’m a good judge of character.”

  “Well, no offense, but you don’t have such a great track record so far,” Adalind teases. “First, you were best friends with the most heinous girl I’ve ever met. Then you got the hots for the new guy who’s clearly a weirdo.”

  Brielle chuckles. “You do have a point.”

  She remembers her burger, whose top bun is still off, so she places it on top of the condiment-smothered patty and takes a bite. Of course, it’s cold. Figures.

  “I am curious, though,” Adalind says, crossing her arms in front of her tray. “Ever get a sense about me?” She flares a playful eyebrow.

  Brielle smiles with her mouth full of cold burger, then swallows. “I haven’t, but I’m pretty sure you’re a good egg.”

  Adalind puts her hands against her chest and blows out a breath through tight lips. “Good, I was afraid I was going to turn out to be some villain.”

  Brielle laughs. Adalind is the furthest thing from a villain she’s ever known, and she’s so grateful to have her as a friend. Glancing over at Cassandra at the popular table, Brielle is sure that the best friend change is an upgrade.

  11

  Tristan

  As he strides to the front doors, Tristan knows he just went up a notch on Brielle’s crazy meter. Considering he’s supposed to pretend such an instrument doesn’t exist, making sure she’s safe then hightailing it is the last thing he should’ve done.

  At least he didn’t mention that humans possessed by dark matter intent on killing anyone they suspect is a Zodiac Heir could be after her…

  But he had to make sure she and Cassandra were okay. Cassandra had readily agreed to a date.

  Brielle agreed to being friends out of politeness.

  Knowing he’s done all he can for the moment, Tristan climbs back into the truck.

  Tess glances at him, gripping her cell like it might ring any second. “They’re both here?”

  Tristan jams the truck into gear. “Both accounted for, both at school.”

  “Good.” Tess lets out a breath. “Once we get Zarius back, we can figure out what to do.”

  Once we get Zarius back.

  Pulling out of the school parking lot, Tristan sets his jaw. Damn straight they’re going to get Zarius back.

  The drive to the warehouse is a tense one. Zarius’s cell has gone straight to voicemail since midnight. Tristan knows there’s no way he’d let it go flat without contacting them.

  If he’s not here, they have no idea where he is.

  If he is, it’s hard not to worry about what they’re going to find.

  Tess’s hands are a tight knot in her lap. She keeps glancing at the map on her cell as they head there, as if she’s worried the little red pin is going to disappear any moment. Tristan focuses on the road. No matter what, they’re getting Zarius back.

  The houses of Mirror Point fall away as green farmland stretches around them. There’s the odd tree, a few more cows, but little else. Isolated is good, Tristan tells himself. Less witnesses.

  �
��We’re getting close,” Tess murmurs tensely.

  Dust billows up on top of the rise ahead and Tristan slows. Tess glances around. “What’s wrong?”

  Tristan points to the particles slowly dissipating in the breeze. “There are others ahead.”

  And they haven’t seen anyone for ages.

  Pulling over, he turns the engine off. “I think we walk the rest of the way.”

  Tess nods, not questioning his decision. They haven’t verbalized it, but they’ve both thought it—this could be a trap.

  Parking the car among some bushes, they hike up the small hill. Tristan reaches the top first, and the moment he does, he jerks Tess back. “Skins,” he hisses.

  Tess nods and they go down to all fours, creeping back up and dropping to their stomachs. Three cars are parked haphazardly around a large warehouse.

  That means at least six. The bastards always travel in pairs.

  “Zarius,” Tess whispers hoarsely.

  Tristan scans the countryside, planning his entry. “I’ll go down, you have the car ready to go.”

  Tess opens her mouth only to shut it. She might’ve learned to defend herself, but she’s not an offensive fighter. Her shoulders sag. “Be careful.”

  Tristan grins. “We both know that’s not my strong point.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Or the waffle tradition ends.”

  His grin dies. Who knows how many schools he’ll have to enroll in yet. “Fine, then,” he mutters. “But if Zarius goes full soldier on them, then you can’t blame me for any bruises.”

  Tess relaxes just like Tristan knew she would. Talking about finding Zarius alive is the reassurance she needs right now.

  Planting a hard kiss on her forehead, Tristan sprints for the first tree. Heart thumping, he presses himself against the rough bark. But there are no shouts of alarm, no shots fired. Crouching down, he watches the warehouse. There’s no movement, but he didn’t expect there to be. If there are Skins patrolling the outside, they’d be invisible.

  All he needs is a sign…

  A leaf flutters toward one of the walls, flicking and dancing on the wind. Tristan watches it with narrowed eyes. It trips up on an eddy then slams to a stop.

  Bingo.

  The Skin must flick it off, because it flips, trembles and resumes its random flight. One Skin beside the door. That means another on the opposite side. Holding his breath, Tristan counts. One, two.

  And the bastard would be around the corner.

  Another frantic run and he plasters himself against the next tree.

  He waits to discover whether he’s been seen. Nothing.

  Five. Six. Seven.

  Only a few yards to go. Please let these Skins be ambling like he’s counting on.

  Keeping his breathing under control, Tristan lines up the water tank nestled against the side of the warehouse. Silently, he streaks over the grass.

  He reaches it, his whole body wired and tense. Waiting for a bullet to penetrate it. The breeze caresses his hair, cooling the sweat at his temple. Silence.

  Holding still, Tristan angles his head. Zarius would spend hours having him stand in their constantly changing backyards, listening for crickets. Once he’d heard one, he’d have to locate it with nothing but sound.

  And then he’d have to tell Zarius when it had started munching on a blade of grass.

  It means Tristan hears the almost silent scrape of a shoe on gravel. The Skin’s coming around the corner of the warehouse.

  Slipping a hand into his pocket, he grips the contents.

  He leaps, throwing a handful of chalk dust at where the Skin should be and the outline of a broad shouldered man instantly appears. It’s all Tristan needs as he slams his arm into the man’s neck. The man crumples, becoming visible as he loses consciousness, and Tristan catches him before he can hit the ground.

  Dragging him around the back of the water tank, Tristan waits to repeat the process.

  Dust. Strike to the neck. Make him disappear.

  Another few precious minutes to make sure he hasn’t miscalculated and there are more Skins patrolling the outside, Tristan studies the timber door. Probably creaky. Who knows what’s on the other side.

  Apart from at least another four Skins.

  Invisibility sure would be good right now.

  Actually, what would be better is his suit.

  Every Zodiac Guardian possesses one, stored within their gem with advanced technology Tristan will never understand. Covering him from head to toe in a molded, protective shell, it would mean he could storm this warehouse wearing his own personalized shield.

  But Zarius is a soldier, not royalty. There was no time to learn how to unlock the suit trapped inside Tristan’s tanzanite gem before he jumped in the pod and left the exploding space station.

  Zarius has been able to teach him everything but that.

  Turning the door handle slowly and evenly, Tristan waits for the inevitable creak. When it fails to fracture the tense silence, he doesn’t let out his pent up breath. He needs to get inside undetected first.

  Slipping through, Tristan silently enters. And stops.

  On the other side of the warehouse, Zarius is tied to a chair. Head drooping as blood drips onto his lap, six Skins circle him. Here in the warehouse, they haven’t bothered with their invisibility. Their hands flex as they pace, their backs to Tristan.

  They don’t know he’s here, which is a good thing.

  But there’s more than he’d hoped. Not such a good thing.

  Without warning, one of the Skins steps in, slamming his fist into Zarius’s face. A low groan slides through the warehouse and Tristan winces. Things must be bad for Zarius to be showing pain.

  “Tell us where the Gemini Prince is,” growls the Skin.

  Zarius raises his bloody face to glare at the Skin. He spits a glob of blood at the man’s feet. “Go. To. Hell.”

  A second Skin steps in, this time with an uppercut. And then another one. And another. “And once you tell us about his location, you can tell us about the others.”

  Tristan skims over the wall to a stack of wooden crates and slips behind them. The sound of fist hitting flesh assaults him again and he knows he doesn’t have much time.

  His only option is to take as many of them out before they know he’s here.

  He skitters a pebble from the opposite corner of the stack of crates and waits.

  “Go check it out,” mutters a voice.

  Which tells Tristan babkas about how many are heading over.

  He’s already in fighting stance when a Skin rounds the corner. Tristan grabs his shirt, snaps the man’s head back then jerks him down. Pain ricochets through Tristan as he slams the crown of his head into the Skin’s nose and the man crumples.

  The second Skin rushes around having heard the commotion. Tristan jams the palm of his hand into the man’s chin. He collapses on top of his comrade.

  There’s silence and Tristan knows the other Skins are now suspicious.

  Two down. Four to go.

  “Dan? Ivan?”

  Tristan takes two steps back, allowing him to keep a better eye on the two sides of the crate stack. If they’re smart, they’ll come around both sides at the same time.

  The first man launches from the left, his face twisted in fury.

  Angry. But not smart.

  Three punches and the man is unconscious.

  This time though, two men rush from both sides. Tristan runs and leaps onto the stack, takes two running steps then launches off the other side. The momentum flips him through the air and he lands on the ground on the other side.

  Several startled faces stare at him.

  Including Zarius. He mouths one word. “Tristan.”

  Tristan grins. “To the rescue.”

  From his left, a Skin snaps into motion, running at him. Tristan grabs the man, spins him to gain momentum, then releases him at Zarius.

  Zarius’s eyes widen as he sees the human projectile coming at him, b
ut then does what Tristan hoped he would. At the last moment, Zarius stands and spins around. The Skin slams into the chair, knocking Zarius over, but also smashing the timber to pieces.

  Zarius is on all fours on the ground, but free.

  Tristan hears the swing at his head and he spins around, his return strike already in motion. It hits the Skin’s chest, yanking out an oomph but it’s not enough to down him. He staggers back, the desire for retribution twisting his face.

  Tristan raises his fists, watching as a second Skin joins the first. The more who are on him, the fewer are on Zarius.

  “I’m glad you brought a friend,” Tristan growls. “It’s more fun this way.”

  The Skins glance at each other before simultaneously launching at him. Tristan is ready for them. Fists connect with flesh, kicks aim for vulnerable gaps. He lands a few good shots, but so do they. A blow to his ribs reminds him they only recently took a knock from these guys. Pain spirals through his chest but he ignores it. Broken ribs can be healed.

  Death can’t.

  Behind him, Tristan hears the sounds of more fighting. Zarius is up, dealing with the other two. It’s only a matter of time before they get to victory dance.

  When one of the Skins lands a second jab into Tristan’s ribs he grits his teeth. Time to end this. He doubles over like the pain wants him to, seeing the glint of satisfaction in one of the Skin’s eyes.

  They both move in, faces lighting with the prospect of triumph.

  But they never get to taste it, let alone see it. Tristan jumps, spins, and spears out his leg. Both men slam to the ground as, one after the other, as his foot connects with their jaw.

  Tristan straightens, breathing heavily. The sound of another body hitting the ground almost has him smiling. Zarius has taken another Skin out.

  That leaves one more.

  Tristan spins around to see the Skin slowly stepping backward. The coward is retreating. For every step back, Zarius takes a step forward, not losing any ground. His face is swollen and purple and one hand looks like it won’t be making a fist any time soon, but he doesn’t take his gaze from his prey.