Ascension

by Sable Grace

With a sigh, he dropped the duffel and turned his back to her.

  A moment later, she tapped his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  “You sure he’s here?”

  Kyana nodded. “Yeah, but Haven’s not with him.”

  “Good. Then we don’t have to worry about her getting hurt when we take the bastard down.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The poor prick was drunk and barely coherent when Ryker and Kyana finally reached the top of the lighthouse. Drake had been waiting for Haven to show up, and, apparently when she’d stood him up, he’d lost his misery in a case of Sam Adams. As they’d dragged him down the spiral staircase, he’d tried to fight back, but his rubbery arms and legs hadn’t done him much good. The fact that he hadn’t even asked why they were taking him in for questioning was enough for Ryker to suspect the ass was a hundred percent guilty of the charges that were about to fall on his head. Still, Drake needed to be questioned, and Ryker doubted he’d spill anything useful with his brain as muddled with booze as it was.

  As they passed through the Castillo de San Marcos and into Below, they were greeted by several groups of gawkers, shocked, no doubt, to see a Mystic—ex or not—being dragged like a common criminal by Ares’s general. But Ryker kept a firm grip on the back of Drake’s neck, shoving him through the crowds Below toward the street of town house–looking dwellings where Jordan Faye was residing while she trained. Geoff was waiting on the doorstep of Jordan’s place.

  “ ’Bout damned time,” he grumbled, snatching Drake’s arm as though he thought he might take over the capture. Ryker yanked Drake back, receiving a howl of pain from Drake.

  “How did you know we were coming here?” Kyana asked.

  Geoffrey shrugged, the tick in his jaw as tense as the grip Ryker was using to keep Drake pinned to his side. He knew, if given half a chance, Kyana and Geoff would tear into his catch without worrying whether they got any of their questions answered. It was up to Ryker to make sure they didn’t fuck this up. He narrowed his eyes, silently warning Geoff to cool his temper.

  “We get him to Jordan with all his fingers and toes,” he said, pushing past Geoff and Kyana to shove open Jordan’s door. “We question him, and if he isn’t helpful, we see if she can read him. Until I have my answers, he’s off-limits. Got it?”

  He wanted the bastard beat down as much as they did, but he was too well trained to let his emotions get the better of him, and he knew from experience that any punishment Kyana or Geoffrey could deliver to Drake would pale in comparison to what the Order could do. He wanted justice for all the murders Drake had committed. Death was just too easy. If either of them stepped over the lines of the law, he was going to have to take them down. While knocking the hell out of Geoffrey might brighten his day, Ryker didn’t want to delve into round two with Kyana. Not after he’d worked so hard to find a peaceful existence between them.

  “If he gets away—”

  “He won’t.” Ryker cut Kyana off before she could deliver yet another empty threat. “Everybody inside. Now.”

  Shoving Drake through the doorway first, Ryker slipped inside Jordan’s temporary quarters. The Chosen Fate gasped at the intrusion, and stumbled onto the worn sofa behind her. She wasn’t alone. A round Latina woman sat in the chair opposite, her dark brown eyes wide with fear, and standing behind the sofa were Lachesis and Clotho. Neither Fate looked the least bit taken aback by the sudden intrusion.

  Drake shoved his weight backward, slamming into Ryker’s chest. Ryker didn’t so much as rock against the weight. Drake’s frantic gaze bounced between the Fates. “Tell him to let me go. I’m still protected by the laws of the Order.”

  Fear seemed to have sobered him. His slur was gone and the glazed look coating his eyes had cleared.

  “Answer their questions and no one will hurt you.”

  Drake jutted his chin toward the Fates. “I don’t want them touching me!”

  “Then talk. If we get what we need from your lips, they won’t have to dig through your skull.”

  Drake’s eyes bulged and his face turned tomato red. He seemed to consider his options for a second. “I’m not answering shit.”

  Lachesis stepped forward. “What has this man done? Is he the one?”

  Ryker nodded. “One of them, yes. You can read him and get us the answers he’s refusing to give?”

  Lachesis gestured toward Jordan, who had gone as pale as the moon. The Latina woman had eased into the corner of the room.

  “Jordan has my powers now, but with my help, she might be ready to do as you ask.”

  “No way. I want to hear him say it. I want his admission.” Kyana leaned into Drake and growled. “We know your hands are bloody. We know you’re responsible for killing off some of the Chosen. What we don’t know is who you’re working with, Drake. Who has the key to Tartarus?”

  “Jesus, you have no idea who you’re messing with, do you?”

  Kyana smiled. “Do you mean you? Or maybe Cronos?”

  When Drake’s eyes widened in surprise, satisfaction filled Ryker’s gut. “That’s right. We know all about Cronos’s attempt to come back. He waited. He knew, just as all the gods knew, of the prophecy about the gods losing their powers. It’s no coincidence that the gates of Tartarus opened just when the gods are their weakest, is it? It was planned this way. But you’ve murdered people for no reason, Drake, because we’re going to stop whatever scheme Cronos has cooked up. If you want any leniency at all, you’ll give us the name of the one Cronos has been contacting.”

  A glimmer of insanity flickered in Drake’s eyes. “Let’s say you’re right and I’m working for Cronos. You expect me to be so afraid of what you might do to me that I’d double-cross him? How stupid are you people?”

  “You’re a damned coward,” Kyana hissed. “What the hell did Haven ever see in you?”

  “You shut the hell up about me and Haven.” Drake’s face reddened but just as quickly paled again. A smirk replaced his scowl. “Is that what this is really about? Trying to eliminate the competition? I always suspected Geoff had a thing for Haven, but you, Kyana? Are you a dyk—”

  Ryker watched as Geoffrey’s fist slammed into Drake’s nose, but was too angered by Drake’s smugness to stop it. Drake fell against Ryker, his hands covering his face as he let out a scream.

  This was getting them nowhere. Ryker adjusted his grip on Drake and shoved him toward Jordan. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Wait. Who’s she?” Kyana asked, thrusting her chin toward the chubby, cute Latina. “Whatever he tells us should probably be heard only by a few.”

  “She is Carmen,” Clotho said, her tone bitter. “My Chosen. And she can hear whatever is said here.”

  Kyana watched Ryker drag Drake toward Jordan and force him to his knees. When she stepped farther into the room, she noticed that each of the Fates and the Chosen had tearstains on their cheeks.

  “Is something going on? Something that might prohibit Jordan from performing? She looks upset.”

  Clotho moved to the corner of the room and pulled Carmen into her arms. “We’ve just found out another Chosen was murdered.”

  “Whose?”

  “Artemis’s.” Clotho sniffed. “We’ve had several more deaths recently, but Artemis is in need of a replacement soon. I’m not certain we’ll find one in time, but we’re working on it.”

  Artemis? Her powers must be fading more rapidly than Kyana had realized for the Fates to be so worried. No wonder the goddess had been less than useful on the hunt for the key.

  “The sooner you get answers from him,” Kyana said, thrusting her thumb toward Drake, “the sooner we can stop these deaths.”

  “What should I ask him?” Jordan asked. Her body had taken on the aura of the Fates since Kyana had last seen her. She was all shimmery and glowy. A far cry from the filth-covered body Kyana had recovered from the trash.

  Unwilling to stand by as a silent spectator, Kyana stepped forward. “We need to know who he’s working with
.”

  “He can lead us to the next Chosen marked for death,” Ryker added. “If we know who else is out there killing the Chosen and who their next target is, we can finally stop the killings and get back your key.”

  Jordan stood and rested her hand on Ryker’s arm. She smiled up at him, a lovesick puppy. “I’ll try.”

  “Whatever you think you can do, it’s too late.” Panic or fear caused Drake’s voice to quiver.

  With a furtive glance at her mentor, Jordan clenched her fists and closed her eyes. Then, reaching out, she placed her palms on either side of Drake’s head. He jerked, attempted to scramble out of her reach, but Ryker simply kicked him back into obedience.

  “You’ll regret this,” Drake seethed. “Whatever you find out will put you in danger. He’ll kill you all faster than you can fucking blink!”

  Jordan opened her eyes, wiggled her fingers. “Nothing. I was, however, able to sense the truth of his words. He is not working alone, and he most certainly fears this person more than he fears any of us.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you got?” Kyana demanded.

  Jordan looked pleadingly to Lachesis. “I don’t understand. He’s somehow able to block me from reaching deeper to uncover the answers you seek.”

  A self-satisfied smirk crossed Drake’s face. His crooked, bent-out-of-shape nose had finally stopped bleeding, but the crusty red liquid still covered it. Kyana couldn’t tell if the sight made her hungry or nauseated.

  “I told you. He’s beyond your reach. And he’s not alone. There are dozens more like me. Hundreds. Thousands even. If you kill me, someone else will take my place.”

  Kyana hated the smugness of his challenge and wished, more than anything, that she could take him up on it and break his pale neck.

  “I told you, she is not ready. She’ll need my help.” Lachesis stepped forward and placed her hands on her Chosen’s shoulders. With light force, she pushed Jordan to her knees so that the woman knelt eye to eye with Drake. “Keep your hands upon him, Jordan. When he speaks, I want you to find the truth or lies in his words.”

  As Jordan nervously nodded, her tongue flicked over her dry lips. With stiff legs, Lachesis circled Jordan and came to stand at Drake’s back. She placed her fingertips to the back of his skull and closed her eyes.

  Drake looked ready to jump out of his skin, his gaze darting frantically about the room, no doubt looking for escape. Good luck, Chuck. Kyana stood between him and the door, and the chances of him reaching a window before she or Ryker caught him, well, Drake wasn’t quick or spry enough for that.

  “You are taking orders from someone else?” Lachesis asked, her airy voice filling the small house like a ghostly moan. Kyana leaned against the wall near the door, her body alert for any sudden movement from Drake.

  “Drake rubbed his palms down his dirty jeans. “I don’t have to answer your questions. You hold no power here. None of you do.”

  The smile livening up Lachesis’s face was far more sincere than Drake’s. She was loving this, being able to use her powers, even if it was through Jordan, who looked ready to vomit or faint.

  “Remain silent if you wish,” the Fate cooed. “We have no need for words to know your truth.”

  A bead of sweat rolled from his hairline down his broken nose. “Liar.”

  “Shall we test it?” Lachesis nodded at Jordan, who once again closed her eyes. “Is the person you work for a member of the Order?”

  “He is not,” Jordan answered on behalf of Drake. “Though he once was.”

  Leaning over Drake the slightest bit, Lachesis whispered, “See? Remain silent. We will speak for you.”

  “Does he mean Cronos?” Kyana’s question earned her a startled glance from Lachesis. She obviously wanted to question Kyana’s mention of the feared god, but didn’t want to risk losing her link to Drake.

  “No, not Cronos,” Jordan answered. “Another, the most loyal of worshippers.”

  “Damn it, give me a name!”

  Ryker’s fingers bit into Kyana’s arm in response to her outburst. He leaned into her back and whispered in her ear, “Give them a chance, Ky.”

  A gentle smile covered Lachesis’s face.

  “No.” Drake struggled to get away. “I won’t tell you. I won’t.”

  Jordan wiggled her fingers and set them to either side of Drake’s head once again. This time, his head slumped forward, the fight in him gone as Jordan’s magic penetrated his blood.

  The door burst open. Jordan gave a squeak of alarm and jumped away from Drake, her connection to him broken. Drake collapsed onto his side, unconscious and barely breathing from the sudden sap of magic draining his mind.

  Kyana turned to shout at their intruder, only to find Atropos standing in the entryway. She held a steady glare on Kyana as she drifted across the room to stand behind Clotho and rested her hands on her sister’s shoulders.

  “You brought it?” Clotho asked, reaching up to clasp her sister’s hand.

  Atropos nodded. “What is going on here?”

  “We were about to find out who has the key,” Kyana snapped, her gaze falling on Drake. “Can we finish now? Or is he going to be out like that for a while?”

  “A moment please,” Clotho said, her voice steady and calm even while Atropos’s gaze was wild and scolding. She took a scroll from Atropos and scanned it. “Have we located a tracer for these?”

  “Not yet,” Atropos said. “Geoffrey, maybe.”

  Lachesis snapped her head up. “Not Geoffrey. He has other tasks to see to.”

  “What do you need a tracer for?” Kyana asked.

  Lachesis’s gaze fell upon Drake, who appeared almost paralyzed. “Best not to be spoken of in detail before unwanted company.”

  Clotho passed the scroll to Ryker. “New Chosen for those murdered yesterday and today. Among them, Artemis’s. They’ll need to be brought in quickly.”

  “Later,” Kyana said, pressing her boot to Drake’s back. She gave him a little kick. He didn’t move but she still didn’t feel comfortable speaking freely with him in the room. “Don’t let him so much as breathe in that scroll’s direction.”

  “We’re not so irresponsible, you insolent—”

  “Atropos, please.” Clotho turned her attention away from her sister and focused on Ryker. “Artemis is weak. She cannot assign her tracers to their duties. As Ares’s second, I trust you can do it for her?”

  Ryker nodded. “Of course.”

  Her gaze held Ryker’s. “Instruct them to be swift, Ryker. We’re running out of souls.”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt this party, but isn’t it more important to finish dealing with Drake so we can solve your problem of dwindling souls?”

  Clotho leaned in toward Ryker, pressing her face close to his, and whispered. “We’ve had to start pulling from the Order. The humans holding the souls are dying too quickly. We need stronger bodies now.”

  Kyana watched Ryker scan the list. He paled, and his gaze flickered to Kyana.

  “What?”

  He shook his head and started to roll the scroll closed, but Kyana snatched it from him, determined to see what had him so panicked.

  “Kyana, don’t—”

  She swung around, putting her back to him, and read. Nearly fifty names glittered in golden ink and she scanned them quickly looking for anything that might stand out as odd. When she reached the end of the list, her gaze locked on two names. One goddess. One Chosen.

  Her heart stopped beating, her cold hands warmed.

  “The new Artemis . . . is Haven.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Panic gripped Kyana’s heart. Haven, the new Artemis? Any other time, this would have evoked an insane amount of envy, but right now, it only evoked terror. She stood, wiping her damp palms on her jeans. “We need to get to Haven. Now. If it gets out that she’s a Chosen . . .”

  Drake rolled onto his side, his brown eyes heavy with magical residue, but his lips were curved in a sinister sneer. “
The moment her name was written on that scroll, she was as good as dead. Look for her if you want, but the ones who want her already know.”

  Kyana lifted her foot to kick the bastard in the ribs, but Ryker seized her arm and dragged her to the door. “There’s no time for that, Ky. Let’s go.”

  She sprinted beside him, her brain reeling as they flew down the steps and onto the streets Below. There was no time to request that a god locate Haven via beacon. All she could do was pray the scent of Haven was fresh and that she wasn’t following a week-old trail. They spent so much time here, it was difficult to tell if the weak scent was simply residual effects. She could shift, and maybe the smell would be stronger, but if she did so and found Haven in trouble, she’d be too weak to be of much help when she shifted back.

  “Which way?”

  Kyana sniffed the air. Haven’s pheromones were strongest to the east and so she headed that way without bothering to make sure Ryker still followed.

  “He was bluffing, right?” she asked, shoving her way through a crowd spilling out of an emporium. “How could Cronos’s followers already know? The Fates just created that damned list.”

  “No idea. But we’re dealing with Cronos and I’m not sure any of us know what he is capable of.”

  The steady beat of her boots against the cobblestone blocked out the thoughts screaming through her mind. Haven was okay. She had to be okay.

  They swung around the corner and Haven’s scent hit Kyana like a sledgehammer to the nose. This was fresh. Minutes fresh. Kyana looked up to find herself staring at the door to Spirits.

  “Here.” She shoved open the door and the air-conditioned bar instantly dried her damp skin. The oak-based scent of Haven’s perfume lingered strongly among the smell of hookah and overcooked meat. So did that flippin’ foul sulfuric stench that she’d picked up on the lock and on the island. Haven’s fear was as pungent as the hookah smoke. “She’s not okay.”

  The room swayed and Ryker’s hand slipped to the small of Kyana’s back as the knowledge that they were too late struck her numb.