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

by Gwen Mitchell

  She blew out a nervous breath. “Yes.”

  Geri began chanting the spell. Bri kept her mind empty. Thoughts of Geri’s face dripping with blood wanted to creep in, but she shoved them back, imagining her mind a clean black slate, like the mirror itself. Her fingers dug into the sharp edges through the leather, and it began to vibrate. The vibration grew stronger as the chanting continued, and the bundle in her hands grew heavy and warm.

  Finally, Geri uttered the last line of the spell for the third time. Bri let the wash of the password fill her mind like ocean water surging into a beach cave. She chanted it three times loud in her head, and the weight and heat and vibration vanished.

  She looked at her empty hands, and then around her feet. “Is it really gone?”

  Geri nodded. “Aye. It’s safe enough for now. You should get the vault back to the Arcanum as soon as you can, and don’t remove the mirror from its cache unless it’s to put it back directly.”

  Bri picked up her purse absent-mindedly, then shook her head as if trying to clear it. She hugged Geri tight, swaying ever so slightly on legs still wobbly from the rush and drain of the spellwork. “Thank you, Aunt Geri. A million times, thank you.”

  “Of course, dearie.” Geri patted her shoulder. “I’m proud of ye. That was quite a lot of magic for a novice to handle. Are you sure you’re fit to drive? Perhaps you should rest a bit.”

  “No.” Bri straightened and checked her gold watch. She smoothed her makeup in the dresser mirror and pulled on a stately expression, though she felt like a great big fake. “I can’t. I have to go. I’ll check in with you later, all right?”

  She wasn’t going to admit to Geri that she had touched the mirror after being warned off of it, but she had to find some way to warn her. But first, she had another performance to make.

  North Wake island was essentially a big bowled valley — the saddle of underwater mountains. Most of the island’s produce, meat, and dairy were raised on local farms and nurseries. Sinclair Airfield cut a perfectly rectangular strip through the center of the valley, paved on the two far ends. A small cement building sprouting antennas like weeds covered one of the pads, and three small passenger planes were parked on the other. At the halfway point, a stretch limousine waited, like a glossy black beetle in the grass.

  Thanks to Geri’s whiskey cure-all and the confusing signage, Bri had to circle the field’s gravel track twice before she found the visitor parking along a chain-link fence. She hiked what seemed like a mile through ankle-deep mud to reach the landing spot.

  Eric’s helicopter swooped in and lowered gracefully, whipping her hair into a mess and ensuring her clothes were spattered with mud. The whorl of the blades slowed, and the engine ceased as Eric climbed from the side door, looking utterly perfect, and angrier than she’d ever seen him. His tan skin was flushed red, his aqua blue eyes charged with electric heat.

  “Briana,” he practically shouted as he snatched her elbow in a hard grip.

  Startled by his lack of composure, she took a moment to re-engage her brain. “Eric.”

  “My god. What the hell is going on?” He shook her as he spoke, and then crushed her against his chest.

  “Everything is fine.” She forced herself to sound calm. She’d never heard him so upset. She had thought that, just like the rest of his tight-lipped family, nothing ever fazed him. She winced when he unknowingly squeezed the bruises she’d received in her attempt to rescue Earl from the fire.

  “Everything is not fine.” Eric gentled his touch and lifted her hands to examine the scrapes on her palms, then turned her head and stared at the cut on her temple. His expression darkened and he pulled her close again. “You need to tell me what’s going on. Right. Bloody. Now.”

  Bri summoned a reassuring smile and smoothed his collar, making her arm a buffer between their bodies. “I’m okay.”

  He released her with a tired sigh, but took her hand and led her to the limousine. He held the door, then climbed in after and turned the heat on full blast before settling beside her. The scents of fresh car leather and Eric’s citrusy cologne were so familiar she could almost feel the heat of the Australian sun kissing her skin. The hard, tanned body covered in expensive silk beside her used to make her pulse race. The burnished gold of his hair and teal flecks in his eyes had been endlessly fascinating — just like the world he came from, where Happily Ever Afters happened all the time. Now he covered her knee with his soft, manicured hand and she shifted away, feeling unfaithful on too many levels to count.

  Eric tensed, then slumped into his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, what is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? I told you not to come here alone.”

  Bri smoothed her skirt. “I know. I’m sorry I worried you. I’m fine, I just had more to take care of than I realized.”

  “And it didn’t occur to you to pick up the damn phone and tell me that? Maybe I could help. Why won’t you ever let me be there for you?” Anger simmered in his hot-blue gaze, but there was hurt there too, and a loneliness she’d never noticed before. Or perhaps she hadn’t wanted to see it — a reflection of her own.

  It was true that any time in the last three years she might have needed him, she made a point not to reach out. Whatever the failings in their relationship, she couldn’t lay them at Eric’s feet. No matter what, he had always tried. Now that she was with Kean, she realized that was precisely the problem. You shouldn’t have to try to be in love with someone, it should just happen naturally. Inevitably.

  Sometimes despite your best intentions.

  She cleared the building thickness from her throat. “It turns out I have more ties here than I thought. My friends have been very good to me. And I saw my father.” Cloaked in half-truths, her excuses sounded almost reasonable.

  “What about your album?” Eric had control of his tone again and sounded as suave and cultured as ever, his posture falsely relaxed. “You’ve worked so hard for this.”

  “I’m not going to blow off the deal altogether, just postpone it. I’m sorry this ruined our plans. I know you were looking forward to celebrating in New York.” She trailed off, knowing full well all of this had spoiled his intentions for the perfect proposal, among so many other hopes she was crushing with her casual lies. She stared out the tinted window. “I’m not really in a celebratory mood.”

  Eric sighed again and leaned forward to take her hand. “Of course, I understand. I’m sorry to vent on you. Now that I’m here, let’s just get this business settled and go back home, alright?”

  A heavy silence filled the air in the limo, until breathing felt like swallowing cotton.

  He dropped her hand. “I see.”

  “I’m sorry, Eric.” Bri silently begged him to see in her eyes how genuinely she meant it. She had never wanted to hurt him, to cause such an uproar, or a scandal. He would undoubtedly be in the eye of the press more than ever now, with his promising young pianist girlfriend suddenly up and relocating. Re-crowning him as Oz’s most eligible bachelor and wreathing him in the speculation he loathed.

  She never should have gone down that path in the first place — lying to herself and to everyone else about where she belonged. She did not belong in Eric’s world. Happily Ever After never worked out for people like her. She was Zyne. And she’d turned out to be more the small town fireman’s woman than she’d ever wanted to admit. “I’m so sorry.”

  “What has happened to you?” Eric asked in a thick whisper. His gaze traced her disheveled appearance, her wild, wind-blown hair, the bruises and cuts. She didn’t doubt his keen attention saw the bigger cracks too, the ones she’d been so careful to lacquer over for so many years.

  The idea of falling from grace in Eric’s eyes had never been so freeing when she’d imagined it before, but now an invisible weight lifted from her chest. Bri stared into his beautiful eyes and knew she was doing the right thing, even if it caused him pain. “I still have people here who love me. I’ve turned my back
on them long enough. It’s time to heal what’s between us and move forward.”

  He frowned, seeming disarmed by her bluntness. “There’s no room to count me among those people?”

  The words were matter-of-fact, cold. The feeling behind them wasn’t. This would be so much easier if he would just be an asshole. Bri stared at her lap. “You deserve better than me.”

  He was silent for several heartbeats and she thought he might not speak again. But he finally said, “I know you’ve never let me all the way in. You’ve never let yourself rely on me. But I had hoped it was only because you were waiting for some assurance, a firm commitment. I can give you that. I want to give you that.”

  Bri’s breath hitched and she shot him a pained look. “No, that wasn’t it. I closed myself off from everyone, not just you.”

  “And now you’re open again?”

  She let out a deep breath. “Yes. Thanks to the people here.”

  “Is there someone here who—”

  “Yes,” Bri answered a little too quickly, then cringed. It would have been wise to leave male pride out of it. Damn that whiskey, but she just kept going, like a trapped animal that scents freedom and bolts. “I love him. I’ve always loved him. I’m so sorry.”

  “I see. I…see. I suppose I should just wish you luck then, Briana.” Eric barely squeezed the words out. He climbed from the car and stood beside the door waiting for her.

  Bri knew it must be costing him something to keep up the cool façade that was his family’s trademark. In that instant she wanted very badly to hug him, to stroke his feathery blond hair and reassure him that it was nothing he’d done. He’d always been perfect, just not perfect for her.

  She wasn’t sure where the instinct came from, but it tore at her chest. Three years of her life had been spent trying to love this man, and she had never truly seen him until this moment — the vulnerable boy just looking for someone to accept him for more than his name and his money.

  She climbed from the limo and clutched his arm, tears building in her eyes. She closed them, in case they turned white when she tried to get a glimpse of his future. A flash of vibrant images unreeled in less than a few heartbeats. “You will have a long and happy life. Your son will be an adventurer and he will make you proud. Your daughters will adore you. One will be a great leader, one will have a beautiful family and drape you with grandbabies.”

  She blinked her eyes open to see the startled expression on his face contort to confusion, then…relief.

  She’d saved him. She’d done something right, at last! The future she saw for Eric was long and full of joy. She tried to reflect some of that happiness as she stared at his face for the last time, but her face felt like stone. “Your wife will love you deeply until the day you die. But trust me when I say you’ll find none of those things here. Go home, Eric.”

  His handsome features twisted into a scowl, and he tore his sleeve from her grip. The happiness of her vision was sucked into a vortex of ugly reality. The havoc she’d just wreaked on this man’s heart was visible like a weeping wound. Without a word, he ducked into the limo, another chapter of her life disappearing behind black glass. The car pulled away, and Bri felt certain he would get off of North Wake Island as soon as possible.

  She carefully navigated the field to her Lexus. All she needed was rain to make the misery complete. She was lower than pond scum for the way she’d treated Eric. Even if she was saving his life. She deserved all the talk, and rumors, and every nasty name the Australian tabloids would invent for her.

  It would be easier if she could take the noble road and say she’d done what was right because it was right. Of course she didn’t want to see Eric hurt any worse, but she couldn’t shake the nagging guilt that chased and swallowed her relief. She hadn’t done it just for Eric. Cutting him loose had only come so easy because, in her heart, she was freeing them both.

  Kean had never been subtle, but the unmistakable intent in his gaze when he walked through the door that evening halted her breath and heated her blood. All thought evaporated at the sight of him coming home…to her.

  She’d spent the rest of her afternoon cleaning Kean’s house from top to bottom, burning off some of her anxiety. She couldn’t cook — couldn’t even figure out how to turn on the oven — but the antique floors were gleaming, every flat surface was free of dust, and the carpet was three shades brighter. The place was practically unrecognizable.

  He took notice of none of it. The heavy tread of his boots left muddy prints as he crossed the kitchen to where she stood before the table. She’d arranged two place settings for their matching microwave meals and set out a bottle of white wine. His coat dropped to the floor a breath before the solid warmth of his body wrapped around her.

  She sank into his embrace and let his desire stir up a luscious inferno of passion she could happily lose herself in. His lips captured and held her, a willing prisoner. She was free to surrender everything to him now, guilt-free, and didn’t hold back.

  The dishes and napkins slid to one side of the polished tabletop. The wine bottle tipped, rolled to the floor, and kept rolling. Kean’s hands danced up her body. His fingers tangled in her hair. He lifted one of her legs, wrapped it around his hip, and dragged her against the roughness of his jeans and over the bulge underneath.

  She gasped as his tongue spilled down the front of her throat. “I guess you’re not hungry.”

  He grunted in answer as his calloused palms slid up her thighs under her skirt. If she’d known he’d react like this, she wouldn’t be wearing anything at all.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” The words pressed hotly against her neck. His chest heaved, his shoulders tense under her clutching fingers. “All alone in my house, waiting for me.”

  He pulled her shirt off. His followed. Another smoldering kiss, and her panties were dangling off one ankle. Another breath, and he was inside her, hot and urgent.

  She moaned and dropped her head back, letting him support more of her weight as he leaned them against the table and thrust deeper, her body already accommodating his need, warming, moistening, welcoming.

  “You missed me too,” he said with a wicked smile and an even wickeder flex of his taut muscles.

  Bri nodded senselessly and urged him on, pulling him over her. The bouquet of lust and desire pouring off of Kean in waves of smoky flavored steam soaked through her pores, into her bloodstream. It stretched her heart to bursting. With their bodies joined, skin sliding, lips locked… it was so easy to live in the now. To want nothing but that moment.

  No tragic past weighing her down, no morbid future stalking her.

  Only hours since the last time, but her hunger for him only grew stronger the more they were together. His anxious plunge into her body told Bri he felt the same.

  “Kean.” Her breath hitched on the word, on the emotion behind it.

  “You’re all mine, baby,” he rasped. “I’ll never let you go.”

  She felt a tug just below her navel, like having the wind knocked out of her, and then everything went black. A second later, the smooth table was gone. Rough fabric slid against her naked back, Kean still deep within, gliding with single-minded purpose.

  He’d faded them to the couch.

  She didn’t have enough sense to do anything but hold on. He knew her body too well, had already kindled a relentless rush of desire. Heat roared through her, until all she could do was cry out. He drove her hard to the edge of pleasure, then ploughed her over it and followed her down, fell into her, filled her up.

  Once they were sprawled on the sofa, still breathing hard, Bri stroked a few locks of sweaty hair from his forehead. “Rough day at the office, honey?”

  He didn’t open his eyes, but one side of his mouth curled up. “No fires ‘cept the one you just put out.”

  She smirked. “Hope I didn’t put it all the way out.”

  Kean shook his head, pressed a kiss to her collarbone, and rolled them both over so that he sank
into the cushions with her straddling his lap. “I’m sure it could be coaxed back to life.”

  The feel of him already stirring again confirmed it, and Bri let out a gratified sigh as she settled closer. “What about dinner?”

  “Not hungry for food. Come here to me.”

  He pulled her close and showed her that a small town fireman’s woman had a multitude of things to look forward to, and none of them involved using the oven.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sirens woke Kean from a dead sleep. He tripped over two German Shepherd-sized lumps on his way out of the room, dressed in jeans he didn’t remember pulling on. In the distance, the horn of Engine One blared as it careened up Front Street. He had three minutes until the second truck followed, maybe less. Luckily, he only lived half a mile from the station.

  He stumbled down the stairs and yanked on his boots. By the time he was reaching for his keys, he could finally hold his eyes open. He blinked at the door, a hollow ache in his gut freezing him in place. He was forgetting something important. His brain slowly shifted from pre-dawn cruise control to idle. He had a bad feeling about this alarm — a quiver in the pit of his stomach.

  “Where are you going?” Bri yawned at the top of the stairs.

  “There’s a fire.” He threw the door open, then slammed it again and stared up at her. His instincts were shouting not to leave her alone. What if the fire was a distraction?

  “But I thought you had the night shift tonight.” Bri rubbed her eyes. She looked so delectable in just her panties and one of his t-shirts, her hair mussed and make-up smeared from a night in his bed. He wanted to go back there and hole up with her until they disappeared, but he had a duty to fulfill.

  He faded to her side, wrapped her in his arms, and took enough of a taste to tide him over. Letting go seemed impossible, much less letting her out of his sight. “Put some pants on. You’re coming with me.”

  They followed the second engine in Kean’s truck. When they veered off Mill Pike Road and onto the un-marked private drive leading to the Zyne Guild, Kean’s forehead broke out in a sweat. He cursed as they crossed through the broken gate and over the deviation wards used to keep away curious trespassers. A huge column of black smoke greeted them as they entered the clearing. With the sky still lightening at the edges, it looked more like darkness pouring in than smoke billowing out. A crowd gathered on the ocean side of the glen. Red emergency lights swirled over the grass field, streaking their horrified faces.