Heart of Ash

by Kim Liggett

  “This could take a while,” I said as I glanced up at the shop, dreading going inside. “You know . . . women and their shopping. You might want to go get lunch or something . . .”

  But he just stood there, stone-faced.

  Letting out a deep sigh, I turned and trudged up the stairs.

  As I entered the shop, the smell of synthetic rose hit me, giving me an instant headache. There was classical music, Vivaldi. The bras and panties were on blush-colored, silk-padded hangers, strung out around the store like dainty confections. I glanced at the price tag on one of the bras and nearly gasped out loud. Four hundred euros for a bra? Oh yeah. Dane was definitely paying for this.

  A slim, well-kept woman in her fifties approached. She looked me up and down like she was trying to decide if I was going to steal anything. I must’ve passed inspection because she started going on and on about my breasts having the proper support and air and whatever else she was spewing. I pretended to listen, but I really just needed an exit plan.

  I thought about trying to do the whole small-talk thing, but I didn’t have the time or the patience to go through the pretense.

  “Here.” I handed her Dane’s credit card. “I need all the basics.”

  She glanced down at the name on the card and her eyes lit up. “I thought you looked familiar.”

  Familiar? I’d never seen this woman in my life. Had she been to Coronado’s house and seen the portrait? Did she know about him and his “voracious appetite”? I wouldn’t be surprised.

  “My name is Camila,” she said as she waved her hands around and two assistants came rushing over. “If you’d like to relax in the private lounge, we have champagne. Anything you need before I start showing you pieces?”

  “No, no, I trust your judgment. Completely. But I really need to run some errands. Do you have a back entrance, somewhere I could sneak away for a bit?”

  She winked at me. Actually winked. “We pride ourselves on our discretion.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I murmured as she showed me to a back door that lead to an alleyway full of reeking garbage and other ancient smells. “This is perfect.”

  She raised her expertly sculpted brow.

  “If anyone asks, just tell them I’m in the dressing room. And take your time . . . like . . . hours.”

  “Do you have sunglasses?”

  “No, why?”

  “If you’re planning on going unnoticed, I think you’ll need a pair. Your eyes are very distinctive,” she said as she ducked inside, coming back with a pair of designer shades.

  “I’ll bring them back,” I said.

  “I know you will,” she said, flashing Dane’s credit card. This woman was slick.

  Putting on the sunglasses, I sprinted down the alleyway, trying to look for any kind of monument so I could get my bearings.

  I glanced at a clock in a nearby square. I had fifteen minutes to get to the café.

  Following the bulk of the tourists, they led me to the Ramblas and from there I knew where I needed to go.

  People were staring as I passed, gawking even. I didn’t think I looked that different from everyone else. I was wearing black jeans and a blouse with a fitted blazer and flats. Maybe it was the fancy sunglasses.

  As I rounded the corner, I let out a huge sigh of relief when I saw Timmons sitting at the café.

  “Thank God you’re okay,” he blurted when he saw me. “I was just plotting how I was going to get you away from a heavily armed castle. What happened? I tried texting you and never heard back.”

  “Lucinda,” I said as I sat down next to him. “I think she found my phone and took it.”

  “Ash, she’s not to be tangled with.”

  “I’m getting that loud and clear, but what did you find out?”

  “Not only were Coronado and Lucinda brother and sister, twins, but they were also lovers—”

  “What?” I hunched over as if I’d been struck in the gut. “They’re twins?”

  “I didn’t think that was the shocking part of the equation, but yes.”

  That’s why Lucinda seemed so familiar to me. She looked like Coronado. The same brow, the same refined, but stern features. No wonder she acted so strangely when I spoke of my brother. And in her room, the etching of Coronado as a young man. Lucinda telling Beth a scary story about her brother . . . about true love. Dane had to have known about this.

  “Ash, you really need to focus. Did anyone follow you here?” he asked.

  “Dane sent guards with me, but I think they’re back at the lingerie shop.”

  “Lingerie shop?”

  “Forget it.” I felt a flush spread to my cheeks.

  A girl stepped in front of the table, giggled, and then snapped a photo of me with her cell phone.

  “What the hell’s going on?” I asked.

  “This,” he said as he slid a local paper in my direction. Front page. A photo of me and Dane from the Patrons Ball in New York City.

  Mystery woman revealed!

  Meet Ash Larkin, the average girl from New York City who’s stolen billionaire playboy Dane Coronado’s heart.

  And there was another picture of my brother and me.

  Her twin brother, Rhys Larkin, couldn’t be reached for comment, but her classmates at Broughton Hall said she and her brother were inseparable and that she was an excellent lacrosse player.

  Here are the results to the online poll: 32% are in favor of this Cinderella story, while 68% think he deserves better.

  All I could think was that I left Dane alone at the estate and they knew. They knew who I was. That the immortal killer was my brother, my twin. “I have to warn Dane about this. If they see this, if they know, he’s in as much danger as I am—maybe more.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s the least of our problems.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lucinda. She’s the one who leaked your identity to the press.”

  “Conniving bitch,” I said as I studied the paper.

  A waiter came over to our table, placing espressos in front of us. “Gaudeix.”

  “Bless you,” Timmons replied, taking a huge gulp. “I thought you didn’t want me drinking too much caffeine, but I’m not complaining. Good looking out.”

  I took a sip. “I didn’t ask for it. Maybe they remembered your order from last time.”

  Looking around for the waiter, I caught a glimpse of him taking off his apron and walking briskly across the square. It took me a second to process where I knew him from, but I recognized his profile. It was the same guard from the castle who looked away from me when he was carrying the blood bags to the ballroom. The guard who’d come to Lucinda’s room. The guard who’d found Max Pinter’s body.

  “Timmons, I don’t know wh—”

  When I turned back, there was a trail of blood streaming from Timmons’s nostril. “Are you okay?”

  He put his napkin to his nose to stop it, but then the blood started seeping from his eye sockets, his mouth, his pores. He grabbed the file in front of him, shoving it into my hands before he toppled to the ground.

  “Oh God, no! Timmons, no!” I said as I crouched over him.

  “The plans,” he gurgled from his blood-filled mouth.

  As I reached up to grab a butter knife from the table so I could cut open my wrist to try to save him, an Arcanum guard appeared out of nowhere, lifting me to my feet. “Mr. Coronado needs you,” he said as he hurried me away from the square to a car waiting in an alleyway.

  But as we got closer, Lucinda emerged from the backseat. “I’ve just come from the alchemist. I’m the only person who can help you now.”

  I dug in my heels as the guard tried to force me in the car.Jabbing my elbow into his ribs, I slipped out of his grasp and ran as fast as I could through swarms of tourists, weaving in and out of narrow streets
. I was trying to figure out what to do, where to go, when I caught the scent of Dane’s blood, along with the overwhelming stench of death.

  “No,” I whispered. “Not Dane.”

  30

  LOCKING ON TO Dane’s scent, I ran until I hit a dead end.

  I was standing in front of the apothecary. The same place Lucinda said she’d just been. No lights were on. There was no welcome sign. But the scent of Dane’s blood was everywhere.

  With each step forward, the darkness inside of me raged, like a crow trapped inside my rib cage, battling for release.

  As I opened the door, the scent hit me like a tidal wave. Dane was slumped over a body, black blood seeping into the grooves of the light wood floors, sprawling out like roots. As if it were reaching out for me.

  “Dane,” I gasped.

  He didn’t answer, but when I saw his shoulders tremble, I rushed toward him.

  “I tried to save him, but it didn’t work.”

  I looked down at the alchemist, who had black blood oozing from every orifice.

  “I thought I might be able to heal him, the way you healed Beth.”

  “Dane.” I turned his face toward mine. “Why would you think that? Why are you here?”

  “I followed Lucinda.” He clenched his jaw. “She killed him.”

  “I know. She killed Timmons, too,” I said, desperately trying to hold it together for both of our sakes. “I was with him when he died . . . at the café.”

  “The café? Wait,” he said in alarm. “Did you eat or drink anything at the café?”

  “I . . . I’m not sure.”

  “Think.” He shook me.

  I was trying to remember, trying to picture anything other than Timmons’s bleeding out, but I didn’t need to remember—I could taste the coffee on my lips. “The waiter brought us coffee, but it wasn’t a waiter. It was one of your guards. Lucinda’s—”

  “Pino. I knew they were close, but I had no idea she’d dragged him into this. Did you both drink it?”

  “Yes. I had a sip, but I don’t see how that matters. You know Rhys’s blood won’t affect me.”

  He dragged his fingers through his hair, looking completely distraught. “And now they know it, too. She wants to get rid of you, no matter the cost. Not only has your identity been revealed, but now they know you’re immune. They’ll want to drain you . . . use you however they see fit. They’ll be coming for you.”

  “They already did. A guard tried to force me into Lucinda’s car. She told me she’d seen the alchemist and that she was the only one who could help me. I ran—I caught the scent of your blood and death, and I thought—” I couldn’t even finish the thought without breaking down in tears.

  “I’m okay. We’re together now,” he said as he held me.

  “Did you know Lucinda and Coronado were brother and sister?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No . . . and they . . .”

  “Believe me, I have the full picture. It’s awful, but how did Lucinda even know about Timmons and Rennert? Where you would be?”

  “She found a phone hidden in my room. The texts would have told her about my meeting with Timmons and about Rennert.”

  “You didn’t trust me,” he said, his eyes misting over.

  “Timmons insisted. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you, but—”

  Someone tapped on the front window, making me jump.

  It was Dane’s personal guard, the one who accompanied me to Barcelona. He entered, carrying a fresh set of clothes for Dane.

  “Will you be okay for a moment?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  As Dane spoke with his guard and took a phone call, I couldn’t help looking at Rennert, remembering everything he said to me . . . about twins and vessels, the light my mother gave to me, how I would have to give it away and step into darkness to find redemption. What did he mean? And now that he was gone, I was afraid I’d never find out.

  I went to look for a tablecloth or a sheet to cover him with, when I noticed the blood-covered file spilled out across the floor. “Timmons,” I whispered. I couldn’t believe I forgot about that. Whatever was in there, I knew it was important. Important enough for him to shove it into my hands before dying.

  Grabbing the file, I opened it to find a set of blueprints. S. M. Residence with a string of numbers printed on the top.

  Laying them out on the counter, at first I thought maybe they were the same numbers I’d scrawled in the wax at the dinner party, but they were slightly off.

  “What’s this?” Dane asked as he draped the clothes over a chair, and washed his hands in a small copper sink.

  “Timmons gave it to me,” I said, sliding them over. “What does it mean? Why would he have these?”

  “This is why,” Dane said, pointing to a section of the drawing. “Here, below the ground level, there’s a windowless room with a medical-grade air filtration system. This is the place.”

  “The plans.” I swallowed hard. “S. M., that could be for Spencer Mendoza.”

  “And look at the stamp,” Dane said as he pointed to the MP stamp on the bottom. “That’s Max Pinter’s company logo.”

  “Pinter designed this?” I asked. “He was screaming, ‘Look at the plans,’ right before Lucinda called the guards on him. She must’ve known he was getting ready to confess.”

  Dane’s brow furrowed in anguish. “He must’ve been trying to come clean about his involvement in all this, and I sent him away. To be slaughtered.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” I said. “You were only trying to protect me. But where is this? There’s no address.”

  Dane got out his phone and took a picture of the file number and sent it to someone. Along with a text, I just sent you a file number. Max Pinter was the architect. I need the address of this project, ASAP. “I have my best man on it,” he said as he put his phone away. “We should have everything we need soon. We’re going to find him.” He took off his bloodstained shirt to change into a fresh one his guard brought. I tried not to look, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “In the meantime, I have a plan,” he said as he slowly fastened the buttons. “But I need to know that you trust me.”

  He had me at a bit of a disadvantage, but Dane had been nothing but forthright with me since I arrived in Spain. I made a decision to clear the slate, give him another chance, but in order to do that, I needed to step off the precipice and let him prove to be my equal.

  “I trust you,” I said.

  I felt a sense of relief rush through him, through me.

  “I’ll tell you everything, but first we need to get you cleaned up,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “All you need to know is that by tomorrow morning, you, me, Beth, and Rhys will all be together, and nothing—I mean nothing—will get in our way again.”

  31

  BY THE TIME we returned to the lingerie store, it was swarming with paparazzi.

  “We need to get out of here,” I said as I sank down in the backseat of Dane’s car.

  “No. This is exactly what we want. There’s nothing the council hates more than publicity, but Lucinda’s not the only one with media connections,” Dane said as he put on his cuff links.

  “You did this?”

  “We’re making a statement.”

  I glanced down at the blood on my clothes, smeared all over my hands and neck. “But look at me—”

  “Already taken care of. While I distract them out front, my driver will take you around back. I have people waiting inside. They know what to do.”

  “Dane,” I said as I squeezed his hand.

  “You can do this,” he assured me as he arranged my hair around my shoulders, giving me a breathless kiss full of blood and sorrow, lust and remorse, and all I wanted to do in that moment was to give myself over a
nd get lost in him, but he pulled away, emerging from the car with a broad smile on his face.

  It brought a lump to my throat, watching him work the crowd. He was putting everything on the line for my brother and me. I didn’t really deserve his devotion, especially after the way I’d behaved with Coronado, but we were going to have to lean on each other to get through this. To get Rhys back.

  The driver pulled around to the alleyway. The door unlocked, and it startled me. As much as I wanted to curl up in a ball and hide from the world, I took a deep breath and got out of the car, running to the back door of the shop. I had to be brave for Dane . . . for Rhys.

  The moment I stepped inside, Camila introduced me to a team of stylists, and I was rushed to the bathroom. They took off my clothes, threw them in the trash, and then they washed me up. No questions asked.

  They went to work on my hair and makeup. Normally, I would’ve hated this much attention, this much fuss, but I was in a daze. I was so tired of fighting everything all the time—fighting my feelings for Dane, fighting my fear about Rhys, fighting the other immortals—and the truth was I couldn’t do this alone.

  They dressed me in a nude balconette bra with matching panties and a cream-colored fitted tank dress with a pair of beige heels and a jeweled clutch. When they were finished, I looked in the mirror and realized this was what a Dane Coronado love interest should look like. Polished and buffed to perfection.

  After piling up exquisitely wrapped boxes into the two Arcanum guards’ arms, Camila handed me a small bag with their logo prominently displayed. I got it. It was a nice plug for their store. And God only knows how much Dane had to fork over for this degree of discretion, but I was grateful. “Oh, your sunglasses,” I said as I started to give them back, but she placed them firmly on my face.

  “Keep them. They look better on you anyway.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s reflected in the bill,” she said as she tucked his credit card and a receipt as long as my body length inside the bag. “Little tip,” she whispered. “When you reach the bottom of the stairs, take off the glasses. They’ll want to see those eyes.”