Rain of Ash: Skydancer Book 1 (The Zyne Legacy)

by Gwen Mitchell

  “Nothing. Just strengthening your wards.” He brushed off his hands. “I guess I should have asked.”

  “Hm. Nothing. Yet you felt the need to strengthen me wards, which are over fifty years old and strong as can be.”

  He sniffed and looked up at the darkening sky. They had to be off island by sundown. The last thing Bri needed to experience in her current state was a retrieval. “Did you hear about the fire?”

  “Aye.” Her back stiffened. “I suppose t’was his time. All things have their purpose.”

  Typical Oracle-speak. “Guess the purpose was to get Bri into trouble so that Gawain could slap us with a summons and a prohibition.”

  “If Briana’s in trouble, I’m sure she had help gettin’ there. What in hell’s seven winds you three are up to now?”

  “You were right,” he said, “about Bri coming back into the fold. She’s having visions. She saw a man. Whoever he is, he’s to blame for the accident. And the fire. Ce-Ce tried to warn her.”

  Kean sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. His shoulders were tense, his head throbbing, his gut aching. Bri’s visions, the accidents, and now the Synod and a prohibition. He was sick of it all. Sick of being useless. Sick of things getting in his way, holding him back. Unspent power made his hands itch.

  Just give me a target and let me do what I do best.

  “Come over here,” Geri said.

  He sighed and crossed to her in two strides.

  She took hold of his chin and forced him to gaze into her eyes as violet swirled to milky white. “Patience, child. The battle will come to you.”

  She let go of him.

  Kean studied his boot-laces and nodded. It was unnerving that she could read him so easily. His thoughts were shielded, but sometimes even the strongest shields couldn’t hold against an Oracle’s Sight. In fact, they were counting on that.

  “Ye’ll be off to the Arcanum then?”

  He nodded. “Before sundown.”

  “Will ye give this to Briana for me?” Yarn waved from her shawl like the branches of a weeping willow as she reached into her pocket and pulled out an ancient-looking key on a chain. She dropped it into his palm, and magic flared down his arm as if he’d knocked his funny bone. It was heavily charged, as only an artifact of the Arcanum could be.

  The key to Bri’s family vault.

  Kean’s breath caught as he tucked it in his pocket. “You had it?” Why had Ce-Ce given it to Geri? Had she known Briana would come back? Had she foreseen her own death? A hundred questions flooded his brain at once, but he knew he’d be lucky to get even one straight answer. “You knew we were going before you even came outside, didn’t you?” Geri gave him a vacant expression, but poker faces never worked on him. “Did you see anything else?”

  “Oh, aye. Tell Briana to come see me when she’s ready.” Geri patted his shoulder. “Go ahead and finish the wards. They could use some freshening up. But mind the roses — they bite.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rocky Point was an outcropping off the northern tip of the island that created an eternal spitting and churning of water, regardless of the tides. It was the namesake of North Wake, and the best crabbing territory in the whole straight. It was also some of the most treacherous water to navigate. But that’s where Kean’s truck was rattling towards. The three of them were going for a short boat ride, and at the end of that short boat ride, Bri would be standing face to face with Aldric Wright, her last living blood relative, whom she didn’t even count as family.

  She tried to absorb all the information Astrid had heaped on her about the Synod’s summons and prohibition. About the possible outcome of their interview, how the Council could interfere with their plans, what to say and not say. Until her head hurt. Through all of Astrid’s lecture, like birds tethered to a pole, her thoughts kept circling around her last conversation with her father. In the years after her mother’s death, he’d taught her how sharp the blade between love and hatred could be. She’d cut them both deep the last time.

  I wish it had been you instead of her, she’d said.

  So do I, had been his cool reply.

  Thunder echoed across the water on their left. Rows of tiny whitecaps ticked along the charcoal grey sea. The clouds blurred with another downpour that hadn’t yet reached landfall. Bri sighed and leaned her head against the window.

  Astrid and Kean were silent — a rare moment. They’d both retreated to their private thoughts, and while she could practically hear the wheels of strategy grinding in Astrid’s head, all she got from Kean was a sense of agitation. Each breath had a pitch of forced control, and his hands wrung the steering wheel restlessly.

  She hated the way they’d left things. Those stolen moments in the kitchen had been more than an escape from her depressing reality. For those few precious minutes in Kean’s arms, she’d felt…joy. The fact that she hadn’t recognized the feeling immediately was jarring. Like a shot of adrenaline to the heart, she had come alive. Now, all she could think about was that she wanted—needed more. But first the grim business of facing her father, and the Synod’s inquiry. She shivered.

  Lightning flashed in the distance, and Bri rubbed her thumb across the key in her pocket. Another riddle to be solved. When Kean had given it to her, she’d recognized it immediately from her regression. There was no doubt in her mind it was the very same. It even felt the same in an energy way she couldn’t totally understand. How and why had she dreamed about giving this key away just as it returned to her in this life? She was hoping the vault the key unlocked held some answers. Astrid said it contained her bloodline’s Legacy. The very thing Ce-Ce wanted her to protect. Once she became a fully-initiated Zyne, it would pass to her.

  Assuming you’re still sane after you unbind your powers.

  The more ensnared she became in the Zyne world, the more she felt as if she were powerless to stop it from swallowing her. Even tendrils of her past lives were reaching from the deep to coil about her legs. And she knew just enough about who she was to understand what she felt was Fate. Despite her upbringing, Bri had never believed in Cosmic forces before. How could she believe that everything happens for a reason? That would mean her mother was supposed to die. That she was supposed to have these nightmares, be haunted by death. That she was supposed to be here, now, unbinding her powers.

  It would mean no choice she had ever made was real. That no matter what she did, she was not affecting the outcome of her life in any substantial way. She refused to accept that. But she couldn’t deny that those very forces she’d wanted to deny were at play here, and when they were through, her life would probably be twisted into something unrecognizable.

  She bounced in her seat as they skidded to an ungraceful stop in the marina parking lot. Kean threw the truck into park and stared straight ahead, still gripping the wheel, keys swinging in the ignition. Bri leaned forward to look past Astrid and studied his face. His honey brown hair had dried haphazardly in every direction. Lines of strain shadowed his normally bright hazel eyes.

  “You can’t tell her,” Astrid said quietly, her hand resting on his leg. Neither of them would look at Bri, as if she’d gone invisible. A silent argument charged the air currents in the truck’s cab.

  “Tell me what?” Bri clutched her sweater and turtleneck in one hand and the vault key in the other. She was already on edge, she didn’t need any more surprises.

  Kean let out another frustrated sigh. “There are vows we take when we become initiated as Zyne. Punishment is harsh and swift when they are broken. One of the most important vows we make is to protect the Legacy.”

  Astrid relaxed by inches beside her. “What he’s trying to say, Bri, is you’re about to see some freaky shit that we are magically forbidden to reveal to mundanes. Just try to stay cool, okay?”

  Bri studied both of their faces, Kean’s marred with worry, Astrid’s tinged with hope. How could it get any freakier than the things she’d already seen? She shrugged. “Okay…”


  Kean took a deep breath as if he would say more, then exhaled slowly. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  They walked to the far inland end of the sickle-shaped marina, where most of the local fisherman moored, safely removed from view of the high-profile yachters. The grayed wood planking was rotted and creaky, the pilings covered in barnacles and algae up to the high-tide line. The boats lining either side were older still, some held together by nothing more than paint and a few well-tied knots. The smells of diesel fuel and fish guts overpowered even the low tide reek. At least this time she’d worn sensible shoes.

  The three of them crowded close as they approached the end of the dock. Kean hopped over the railing of the navy blue cabin cruiser in the last slip — the Sea Kettle, circa 1979. He rapped on the sideboard. “Peterson, you in there?”

  A grumble echoed from the bowels below deck, followed by a slam and some stomping that made the boat sway from side to side. A wiry, bristle-faced man emerged through the plastic door. Bri recognized him from the pub earlier. He wore a plaid shirt and grungy jeans. A navy ski cap was pulled low over his eyes, and a cigarette hung out the side of his mouth. When he saw Briana, he jolted with surprise, then scowled.

  “Whatdya want Fitzgerald?” Spit flew out of his mouth on the Fitz and the gerald sounded slurred.

  Bri clenched her teeth, expecting Kean to rise to the bait, but he was calm when he spoke, his voice brittle, like a twig in the heart of winter. “You know damn well. Now fire it up, and get us on our way.”

  Mr. Perterson’s puffy eyes narrowed to slits and he breathed a cloud of smoke into Kean’s face. “Sheriff know about this?”

  Kean turned to help Astrid and Bri onto the deck. “Sure does. Slapped a prohibition on us. But that won’t stop me from wringing your hide out if you don’t get your ass in gear and do your job.”

  He flicked his cigarette over the side. His gaze swiveled to Astrid, then lingered on Bri. “Prohibition, huh? ‘Bout time he did something about her being here. Something ain’t right about it.” He sniffed, and continued mumbling to himself as he climbed into the cabin and started the engine. Bri could only make out a few words, but it was enough to gather their captain wasn’t feeling very hospitable. Gawain hadn’t been exaggerating what the townsfolk thought of her.

  By the time they hit the open water, rain spattered the roof, and a hint of sunset was bleeding into the grey-washed sky. The bow bounced and dove over the large, rolling whitecaps. Bri’s stomach lurched, and she decided even with the rain, fresh air was better than the beer and tobacco infused cabin. She slipped through the zippered door and took a seat on the stern, gripping the slick railing as the wind and rain sliced at her skin.

  Clean salt air filled her lungs. She shivered, only to feel Kean’s protective shields fold around her like invisible wings, cocooning her in warmth. He held the arms of his parka as she slipped into it, zipped it up for her, and cinched the hood tight. Bundled in a hooded sweatshirt, he braced his arms on either side of hers.

  They passed through a thick curtain of fog. Bri couldn’t even see their hands on the railing. Kean’s shields hushed the rain and muffled the engine, making it feel like they were enclosed in a private nest of clouds. She turned in his arms but could barely make out his profile. He braced her lower back and pulled her closer. Lips forged through the mist, only inches away. She held her breath.

  He whispered in her ear, “Don’t be afraid.”

  Not a seduction, but a warning.

  “W-What?” she said, and then white lightning tore through the sky and ripped reality in half. Her vision went black, and she scrunched her eyes closed. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as her insides withered. She collapsed into Kean’s arms, gripping his sweatshirt with all her strength.

  Chaotic images and memories clawed at her mind: the ground littered with bodies and limbs, drenched with blood. A bright-eyed baby with a halo of golden hair and a two-toothed grin. A wolf running through the woods, one with the moonlight. Grey eyes, the color of a midnight storm…

  The pain released its grip on Bri as suddenly as it had taken hold, and feeling returned to her numb extremities in a sharp throb. She blinked open her eyes and gazed up at Kean. Several black holes appeared in the monochrome dome of sky behind him. Thinking her vision was still spotty, she blinked again. The spots grew larger, like balls of black flame falling to earth at unnatural speed. They swooped towards the boat as it forged through the churning waves.

  Bri gasped, her nails digging into Kean’s arm. “Kean…what is that?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, cursed, and shifted until his body was practically wrapped around hers. “Hohlwen.”

  The Hollow Ones. Immortal eyes and ears of the Synod. She’d thought they were just a bedtime story that Zyne mothers used to keep their children from misusing magic.

  Watchers in the dark, through the night they fly.

  If they happen on a witch, her power they drink dry.

  One of the shadows dipped just feet over their heads and then flitted away too quick to track. Bri choked on a dry swallow, searching overhead. “They’re real?”

  Kean craned his neck to check the sky as he hefted her to her feet. “That’s what we couldn’t tell you before. We just crossed the Synod’s wards. The Hohlwen patrol every inch on this side. Watch what you say. And think. Come on, let’s get out of the rain.”

  Another shadow flickered in the corner of Bri’s vision, but when she looked, it was gone. She stared into the blanketing fog. Her scalp prickled. Her nightmares were memories from past lives, her grandmother was talking to her from beyond the grave, and the bogeymen of her childhood were real.

  Freaky shit. Riiiiight. Astrid was a master of understatement.

  She followed Kean inside. When his shields slipped away, the thrash of the storm and the rumble of the engine roared through her head, making it throb. Wipers squealed across the windshield, and the bow slammed rhythmically into the breakers. And then the fog pulled back like a curtain, as if they’d crossed some invisible barrier. The storm fell behind them. The water calmed.

  They entered a small bay, surrounded on all sides by slick, jagged cliffs. Tall evergreens disappeared into a veil of low clouds. Black streaks blurred a crisscross pattern through the sky into the thick forest. Bri’s neck tingled to the point of itching, but she followed Kean and Astrid onto the outer deck.

  Mr. Peterson motored up beside the single dock that cut into the turquoise water. There were no gulls, oddly. No wind either. Just the lazy rhythm of water lapping on rocks.

  Kean squeezed her hand, and the world turned inside out and left her heart somewhere around her ankles. She was standing on the dock, and her sea legs nearly gave out beneath her.

  “Holy hell, Kean!” She heaved in a breath, swaying. “Warn me before you do that again.” She’d preferred being unconscious when he faded with her.

  By the time they’d walked to the base of the dock, there was no sign of the Sea Kettle. They seemed utterly alone, except for the prickling on Bri’s skin. Even unseen, the Hohlwen were still watching. She sensed their focus, tinged with an almost penetrating hunger. She huddled closer to her friends. Stay cool. “What now?”

  Kean pulled his hood back, revealing the tautness of his clenched jaw. “Now we go inside.”

  Bri followed his gaze and looked up to find a burst of sunlight breaking through the clouds. The light didn’t reach them at foot of the cliff, but the mist hugging the peak dissipated to reveal a dozen spires thrusting into a scrap of coral sky. The spires sat atop towers of gleaming wet stone. Domes of stained glass painted sun-reflected rainbows on the clouds, and what seemed like miles of marble, granite, and brick of every shape grew out of the stone cliffs.

  The Arcanum.

  Hohlwen perched along rooftops and balconies, staring back with shining black eyes. Her blood stirred with a familiar hum, like an extra pulse chasing her own to a tune she somehow knew. She wasn’t surprised when three cloaked figures appeare
d from the shadows nearby; her senses were already growing attuned to their silent presence. But she wasn’t prepared for how excruciatingly beautiful they were up close. It squeezed the breath from her chest.

  All of them were statuesque and flawless. They didn’t seem real. Starbursts popped in Bri’s vision as her eyes trailed along the shining hoops and glittering studs that accentuated, rather than detracted from their already stunning effect. And those eyes… they were a fathomless, empty black. Someone could get lost in them…

  Hollow Ones. In the stories, they could drain a witch of all her life force if they wanted to. Seeing — feeling — them in real life, she didn’t doubt it was possible. Bri shuddered.

  “We’ve come to escort you to the main level,” said the tall blonde with the goatee. His lips barely moved, but his voice carried. “Councilor Wright is expecting you.” He bowed to Bri, which caught her further off guard.

  “Uh.”

  “We don’t need any escort. We’ll make our own way,” Kean said gruffly. “Tell the Councilor he can wait.”

  Without warning — again — he faded them to a ledge twenty feet up the cliff. And again. And again.

  Her first glimpse of the Arcanum up close was whirling and flashing between purple and green. Bri tore her arm out of Kean’s grasp, staggered one step, and then snagged her foot on something. She tumbled forward. A strong arm caught and righted her before she hit the ground.

  She straightened to find herself face-to-chest with the man who had saved her from doing a face-plant. She hadn’t seen him move. His hands were clasped behind his back, making the slab of his broad chest flex in its well-tailored, three-button jacket. His shoulders were massive, his neck and throat thickly muscled. She actually had to tilt her head back to see his face, which didn’t happen often — she wasn’t a short woman. He was wearing sunglasses, despite the gloom. So were his companions.

  Her reflexive thank you died on her lips, and she took a cautious step back. Four other official-looking muscle-men ranged on either side of him. They all looked very much the same in their security garb, but she couldn’t stop staring at her would-be rescuer. She had the strangest sensation that she’d seen him somewhere before. Something was so familiar about those sensuous lips, the tiny smirk at the corner.