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

by Tamar Sloan

  Alden moves into his field of vision, standing in front of Tristan like the soldier he is. “Get up!”

  Using the wall as support, Tristan straightens, every muscle screaming an objection. Beside him, grunts and thumps tell him Alden is fighting off the Skins. Shaking his head, Tristan knows he has to get it together.

  This is the break he needed.

  This is what could save Brielle.

  Throwing his shoulders back, Tristan stumbles forward. He slams his fist into the nearest Skin, relishing the sound of cartilage crunching. The Skin stumbles backward, blood pouring down his face, giving Tristan the opening he needed.

  He steps in beside Alden, instinctively choosing the side with the eye patch. “Brielle’s been taken down the end of the alleyway.”

  “Well, then. We’d better get her back,” Alden mutters, determination hardening his voice.

  “I think I might be in love with you, Alden.”

  There’s no more time to talk as the Skins rush at them. Tristan fights with renewed energy and the first Skin drops quickly. Each punch that gets through his defenses feels like a wrecking ball, but Tristan ignores the pain. He can hurt later.

  When they’ve got Brielle to safety.

  Alden fights as well as Zarius would, making them a formidable team. Punches are dealt with precision, kicks with force. They slowly make their way down the wall, further into the alley. Closer to Brielle.

  But the further they move, the more Skins appear. Tristan feels his burst of energy waning. His fists ache and it hurts to breathe. And judging from the grunts coming from Alden, this is taking its toll on him, too.

  As a Skin lands a punch across Tristan’s jaw, he realizes something. Chardis sent an army along with Adalind. There’s no telling how many Skins there could be.

  “Use your suit!” pants Alden.

  “I can’t. I don’t know how!”

  Doesn’t Alden realize if he could, he’d be all decked out by now?

  Alden jumps forward, taking a Skin by surprise. He spins around, his elbow aiming for the next one’s nose. “You need to—” Alden never has the chance to finish the sentence. He stops mid-spin, facing Tristan as his back arches, his eye widening with shock.

  And agony.

  Tristan watches, horrified, as crimson blood blooms on Alden’s lips, then trickles over the edge. He’s shoved forward, Adalind materializing behind him.

  Holding the bloody knife she just withdrew from Alden’s back.

  Tristan catches Alden before he hits the ground, his bruised body crumpling under the weight. Alden’s mouth works as Tristan feels the gush of warm blood on his hands. “Hang on. We can heal you.”

  But Alden’s shaking his head. The healing potion isn’t going to help anyone because Tristan won’t be able to get it. His house might as well be on Gemini I right now. They’ve lost.

  Tristan’s blood is about to join Alden’s as it pools on the grimy cement.

  Alden lifts a hand only to drop it again. “You need to hold…your stone,” he wheezes. “Then say…Akash.”

  Akash? What does that even mean?

  But that’s the moment that Alden goes limp, his eyes becoming sightless and glassy. Ice floods Tristan’s veins. “No!”

  Adalind’s chuckle creeps down his spine. “Finish him.”

  Tristan watches as her feet turn and head back down the alley to where she left Brielle. So she can bring her to Chardis.

  Tristan straightens, watching Skins appear all around him, knowing there’s more behind him. He grips the gem hanging around his neck.

  This is their last chance. Please let him have heard Alden right. Please don’t let his death have been for nothing.

  The tanzanite digs into his palm. He shouts the single word like it’s a battle cry. “Akash!”

  It’ll either be the last thing he’s ever going to say.

  Or he’ll finally stand a chance.

  Heat blasts from the stone and Tristan releases it as it flares so bright, he has to close his eyes. Suddenly, sensation explodes across his skin. He tries to identify where it starts, but it’s everywhere. All over him.

  Encasing him.

  Tristan looks down to find a metal suit the color of midnight purple enveloping him so fast, he knows he can’t blink. It wraps around his chest, expanding down his legs. Simultaneously, it streaks up his neck and closes around his face.

  For a second, Tristan feels suffocated. What if he can’t breathe in here? But then his lungs fill with air. He looks around, registering details he hadn’t noticed before. A moldy lettuce leaf protruding from a trash can. A scar on a Skin’s cheek. The scent of Adalind’s fear as she runs back down the alley.

  Tristan flexes his arm—whatever the suit is made of, it’s hard…yet flexible. He looks down, realizing the energy of the shift has him levitating a few inches off the ground. He’s surrounded in armor. His senses are heightened.

  And it’s possible he can fly.

  He looks at the open-mouthed Skins around him. “It’s time for a new game.”

  22

  Brielle

  Brielle has never been more terrified in her whole life as she watches her once best friend stab a man in the back while Skins tug her out of the alley and toward a waiting car.

  Things couldn’t possibly get any worse. Tristan is being attacked by invisible foes, Eye Patch Guy just got murdered, and the one person she trusted most has been working against her all along.

  Wait, no. Things can get worse. And they will, whenever they get to where the Skins are taking her.

  She doesn’t want to find out!

  But she’s useless. No matter how much strength she puts into her jerks against her captors, they don’t budge, and every futile effort inflicts more and more pain, and soon-to-be bruises. How are her so-called powers supposed to help her now? How could they possibly help Tristan?

  Her panic spikes when she hears the sound of the car door opening behind her and her feet are lifted up off the ground.

  No, no, no!

  She can’t tell if she’s screaming the words in her head or out loud as every muscle in her body clenches in refusal to be put into that car, her eyelids sealing as if believing the bad things aren’t happening if she can’t see them.

  Then suddenly, everything stops moving, and even behind her tightly closed eyelids a blinding light flashes not far ahead.

  Brielle hesitantly squints her eyes open, looking up at the Skins that have hold of her arms and legs. They’ve gone still as stone, their stunned faces all aimed down the alley at the fading flash. Her eyes follow theirs to the source of that light, wondering what could be enough to surprise them.

  Tristan is at the end of the alley, surrounded by Skins that are ducking as if from an explosion. But it’s not a blast that let out such bright light.

  As the glow implodes on the stone hanging from Tristan’s neck, some dark and shimmering purple material seeps out of it, covering Tristan’s body in a pixelated kind of way. From this distance, the substance looks both inky and metallic, mercurial yet scaly.

  What have they done to him?

  “Tristan!” she cries, certain she is about to watch her potential soulmate die.

  But the looks on every visible face that’s frozen in his direction are not expressions of victory, but of dread.

  The inky purple has completely covered Tristan from head to toe, and he stands tall, flexing his fingers.

  It’s not poison or some alien biological weapon.

  It’s a hi-tech suit of armor!

  Looking like Iron Man, Tristan slams his fist into the closest Skin, the man’s body flying backward and smashing through the Skins behind him.

  Instinctively, Brielle takes advantage of her captors’ distraction and puts every ounce of force she can muster into one final buck. Her arms and legs slip from their grasp, and she scrambles out of reach as they try to snatch her back up.

  She sprints at full speed back into the alley, swerving through and
leaping over Skins, knowing only that her place right now is at Tristan’s side. She slides on the dirty ground behind him like a baseball player who just made a home run.

  Eye Patch Guy’s body lays beside her. Her heart tugs for him, but there’s no time for tears or questions now.

  As Tristan uses the body of one Skin as a sling shot against the rest of them, she scans the alley floor for anything she can use to help him. There’s a dumpster, dozens of old wrappers and fallen leaves of all colors. Then something catches her eye. A dented pipe that’s a little over a foot long. That’ll do.

  She grabs it and gets into a batter’s pose, ready to swing with all her might at any Skin who gets close. She refuses to be the damsel in distress, or let Tristan take on this burden alone.

  Not that Tristan needs her help now that he’s in his suit.

  He’s incredible to watch. She’d seen glimpses of the fight before when the Skins were carrying her away, enough to know that the suit isn’t responsible for the skill and grace she’s witnessing.

  Before she’s even had a chance to swing her pipe, Tristan dispatches the last Skin standing, slamming his head into the ground so hard it cracks.

  Tristan gets back to his feet and turns all around, looking for his next opponent. After a moment, he realizes there isn’t one.

  The alley in front of them is scattered with bodies, and from what Brielle can tell, most if not all of them are dead. She finds herself searching the lifeless faces. Adalind isn’t among them. She must have fled.

  Tristan approaches her, putting his armored hands on her upper arms.

  “Are you alright?” His voice doesn’t sound muffled as she imagined it would. It sounds crystal clear, as if there isn’t a layer of protective metal over his face.

  She can’t see his eyes, only a black glass-like cover over where they should be, but she knows they’re blazing with concern.

  She nods rapidly, too flooded with adrenaline to speak.

  He exhales heavily and lowers his shoulders. “Thank pitch!” He pulls her into a relieved hug, and she’s surprised by how firm yet flexible the metal is against her exposed arms. What could it possibly be made of?

  Her motor skills a second behind reality, she hugs him back, a wave of relief and amazement that they’re both alive washing over her.

  When Tristan eventually pulls away, she finds her voice. “I can’t see your face. Are you alright?”

  “I am for now,” he says. “We need to get to my house asap before I realize I’m not.”

  She peers down the alley. “Do you think it’s safe?”

  “I think I killed every Skin who foolishly stayed behind. The rest fled. Along with Adalind.” He says her name through clenched teeth.

  “I’m so sorry, Tristan,” Brielle confesses, her heart aching with betrayal. “This is all my fault.”

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s not. Adalind had us both fooled. I should have been able to sniff her out from the beginning.”

  Brielle looks away, knowing the truth—that if anyone should have been able to see through Adalind, it’s her. She never pushed her lie-detection with Adalind. Maybe if she had, she’d have known long ago that the great pretender was just that.

  Her wandering eyes fall on Eye Patch Guy’s corpse. “So, he was with you after all.”

  “What do you mean, ‘after all’?”

  The memory from last night flashes in her mind. “He came by the orphanage last night, told me I was in danger. It scared the crap out of me. I didn’t know if he was crazy or…” She slowly turns her head toward Tristan. “...if the danger he was warning me of was you.”

  “I didn’t know until last night that he was a royal Gemini guard sent to help Zarius. He must have come by our house right after he scared you at the orphanage. Alden was a good man.”

  Alden. Much better than Eye Patch Guy.

  Tristan kneels near Alden’s face, then looks up at Brielle. “He cared about you, you know. I know you only knew him as the crazy librarian, but he’s been watching over you your whole life, keeping you safe from a distance.”

  Blood floods Brielle’s face, neck and shoulders, a fresh heat steaming the sweat beads on her skin. Some deep, longing part of her heart breaks.

  This strange man she never really knew was the closest thing to family she had on this planet. How different would things have been if he’d gone the route of Zarius and adopted her, raised her as his own? She could have known her purpose all her life, could have understood the powers she always believed were a curse. And she’d have had a dad, or something like it.

  Now he’s dead and she’ll never get to know him, never get to ask the questions that are buzzing through her mind.

  Never get to thank him for watching over her.

  Tristan must see her tears building because he turns back to Alden and closes his lifeless eyes with his fingertips. “Rest in peace, Alden of Gemini I.”

  Brielle is on the verge of breaking down, succumbing to the sorrow that’s suddenly overwhelming her. And if she doesn’t get a hold of herself soon, she’ll crumble and be useless.

  She turns her back on the two, wipes her eyes and sniffles, taking a wobbly breath. “What are we going to do with them? We can’t just leave all these bodies here.”

  She hears Tristan stand and come up behind her. “The Skins will clean this up. They always do. Their secret is as great as ours. Alden will disappear without a trace,” he says, his voice heavy. Tristan straightens his shoulders. “But he’d want us to get you safe and for you to be reunited with your stone, there’s nothing else we can do for him. That’s our top priority.” He offers his hand. “Come on, they might come back with reinforcements. We need to get in and out of my house before that happens.”

  Brielle places her hand in his, hurting that Alden doesn’t even get a proper burial, but knowing that there’s no other choice. Together, they sprint out of the alley and down the road to his house. As they move, she still doesn’t trust the shadows surrounding them, fearing one might jump out at them the moment she turns her back.

  They approach his house with caution, wary of any Skins still hiding in the darkness. They tiptoe up the walkway, Tristan using his armored body as a shield in front of Brielle. He grabs the doorknob, hesitantly turns it and pushes the door open.

  The house looks fine, nothing seems out of place. Tristan seems surprised by that fact, but proceeds forward anyway.

  “Everything is too quiet, too perfect,” he whispers as he tucks Brielle behind him. “Keep your eyes open.”

  Brielle follows close behind him. Despite the caution that sizzles through every inch of her body, it’s anticipation that drives her forward. This is the moment that will truly change her life forever. The moment she’ll find out who she really is.

  As they make their way down the dark stairs of the basement, she holds onto one silly hope—that she is, indeed, the lost Gemini Princess Tristan has been looking for.

  23

  Tristan

  Tristan opens the door, not sure why he’s still so edgy. Maybe it was the fight. Maybe it was seeing Alden killed. But whatever it is, it means he keeps his suit on as he pushes the door open.

  That, and he’s not entirely sure how to get it off, yet.

  Although, the thing is so cool he’s thinking it might be his new go-to outfit. A couple of days practice, and Tristan’s pretty sure he’ll be joining Superman in the sky.

  Keeping Brielle’s hand firmly in his, Tristan pauses as he listens. All the lessons with Zarius on hearing the tiniest of sounds have become obsolete. Although the suit protected him from all but the biggest hits the Skins could throw at him, it’s like walking around in a super-sensitive skin. Everything’s in high definition.

  But Tristan doesn’t hear a sound coming from the basement, let alone anywhere else in the house.

  “Zarius? Tess?” he calls out. Maybe that’s why he’s nervous. If they aren’t at home, where are they?

  There’s no answer,
but Tristan didn’t really expect one. Maybe the silence is a good thing. Maybe Zarius and Tess escaped before the hordes of Skins surrounded the place…

  Two steps down and Tristan freezes.

  “What is it?” Brielle whispers, panic creeping into her voice.

  Tristan looks around the basement, his heightened vision taking in every shattered piece of furniture, every hole in the wall, every inch of destruction.

  “Bastards,” he mutters.

  The Skins have annihilated the basement.

  The next thought has Tristan releasing Brielle’s hand and shooting down the stairs. “Zarius! Tess!”

  Please don’t let them be among the carnage.

  Tristan reaches the bottom of the stairs, scanning frantically. There’s broken glass, wood splintered everywhere, but no sign of his parents. Tristan lets out his breath, the panic seeping from his body.

  They’re not here. They got away in time.

  Brielle appears on the stairs. “Tristan?”

  “It’s all safe. For a second there I was worried that Zarius and Tess…” He shakes his head. “But they’re not here.”

  Brielle looks around, taking in the destruction. “The Skins, they’ve been here.”

  Tristan kicks at a chair leg and it skitters only to lodge into a pile of smashed who-knows-what. “Yep. They redecorated.”

  It’s then that Tristan sees his pod. Or what’s left of it.

  He rushes over, falling to his knees as he picks up the largest piece remaining. Looking like an overgrown piece of eggshell, it’s no bigger than his hand. Brielle comes to stand behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. How odd that the suit protects him from damage, but he can feel that gentle offer of comfort. “What was it?”

  Tristan’s body sags. “My pod.” He looks up at Brielle. “We all arrived in one of these.”

  But his has been annihilated.

  “I’m so sorry, Tristan.”