Dark Ascension

by J. D. Brown

  “Brinnon’s worried Lilith will come back,” I said.

  “To finish what my father started?” He shrugged. “The Prince is smart to consider it.”

  I grimaced and lowered my gaze. “If she comes back, it won’t be for Apollyon. It would be to finish what she started.”

  Silence stretched between us and I made the mistake of looking at Jesu. His gaze was dark. Contemplative. Accusing.

  “Ema, what do you know?”

  Apparently, I was trying this new thing called honesty. So I told him everything.

  “Lilith was in the underworld with me and Leena. She was just some random old lady we crossed paths with, but she showed us where to find Apollyon. I forgot about her after that, but then she showed up in Berlin and saved me from Enki, and again in Alexandria.”

  “You said it was Valafar that saved you.” Jesu’s eyes were on fire; deep green flames that grew with his temper. I cringed.

  “He was there too. As her muscle.”

  Jesu stood, his hands fisted at his sides.

  “She knew about the babies,” I continued. “Or baby. I don’t think she knows they’re twins. But she knew I was pregnant way before I did. She kept talking about saving the baby, saving my son. That’s why I took a pregnancy test.”

  “Ema...”

  “You don’t get to be mad at me, Jesu. I didn’t know who she was.”

  “And now that you do?”

  “Now that I do...” I wet my lips and looked at him. His stern gaze was an abyss of dark light—the Aurora Borealis against a midnight sun. “I can’t help wondering if she’s protecting me.”

  “Protecting?” Jesu laughed.

  “Oh come on.” I stood and paced in front of the chalkboard. “I know she’s dangerous. You don’t have to tell me that. But so are you and everyone else in this castle.”

  “I didn’t raise my father from the dead to try to kill you.”

  “No, that was me. And Leena. Look, it doesn’t matter anyway. Lilith’s gone. I used my philosopher’s stone to capture her and blackmail Valafar. It was the only way to save everyone. He killed the Saga-giga. If I had only used the stone on Apollyon, those zombies would have still killed us. Valafar was the only one strong enough to stop them all. When it was done, I released Lilith and he took her away. We won’t see them again.”

  Jesu furrowed his brow. He scanned me as though looking at an alien. His knuckles bulged as he took a step forward.

  “If you honestly believed she was gone, you would not have smoked the entire guest wing in Adders Tongue while hiding my father’s ring, and we would not be having this conversation right now.” His gaze searched mine. “So which is it?”

  “Both?” I shrugged. The truth was complicated. A part of me hoped I never saw either of them again—but another part of me, a very significant part of me, wished Lilith would come back to save my children, to free them from Apollyon’s wretched power. Without another alchemist, Lilith was my only hope. But I wasn’t naive. She might have been using Valafar as her muscle, but I didn’t think it had anything to do with her being weak. The more I thought about Lilith, the more she scared me. She was like a deadly storm brewing in the horizon, or the dark unknown at the bottom of the sea. It was possible she’d come back to hurt me. “I don’t really know if she’ll come back or not, but we have to think ahead, right? You said it was smart to consider.”

  The faintest increment of empathy softened Jesu’s temper. He sighed and looked away. “Tell Brinnon.”

  “Tell Brinnon what?”

  He faced me and then looked pointedly at my abdomen. “Tell him everything.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can. The whole point of that preposterous deal with Nikolas was to protect them.” He gestured to my stomach again. Before I could explain that the contract wasn’t official yet—that some of the de Wölfes were against it because of my Romani heritage, and telling Brinnon I was pregnant might make the Prince change his mind—Jesu crossed the room, ripped the impossible solid wood door from its hinges, and stormed out.

  VALAFAR

  More sketches of Ema.

  For an artist of his skill, Jesu sure had a hard time capturing her likeness. I shoved the mess of scrap papers aside while searching the drawer in Jesu’s nightstand. I didn’t really think the ring would be there, among broken bits of charcoal and chewed pens, but I’d searched every nook and cranny in the guest wing twice over, and my temper festered with each failure.

  I slammed the drawer shut, put my hands on my hips, and scanned the room at large. All the guest rooms looked alike. Cream and gold marble floors, powder blue bedclothes, expensive paintings, lavish stone hearths, and posh settees with silk cushions. Jesu’s chamber was a little less together than the others. He had a very bachelor-like habit of leaving clothes wherever they landed, and a blind eye for all the rubbish piling up on the vanity—empty cans of shaving gel, used dishes, the occasional dagger and mismatched sock. Not that I was a neat-freak. In fact, my current urge was to destroy the place further; to take a knife to the mattress and a jackhammer to the walls. Maybe then I’d find the blasted ring.

  You know where it is.

  The one place I couldn’t look. Not without blowing my cover. Lightning streaks pierced the backs of my eyes and I grimaced.

  Logan’s room...

  The thought set my feet in motion. I crossed the room to the door. Two, maybe three steps down the hall was all it would take. I reached for the knob then stopped myself. I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Pain zinged through my head, strong enough to knock me to my knees.

  Find the ring.

  Find the ring.

  Find the ring.

  “She won’t be happy if you get caught,” I grunted to myself.

  It didn’t matter if Logan was asleep or even gone... his room was likely booby-trapped with spells. The Hunter would know the moment I invaded his space, and I wasn’t entirely sure he had the ring. I didn’t think Ema had any idea what her father was, so she wouldn’t have any reason to believe the jewel would be safe with him—although, I supposed anything could have transpired during the week she had smoked the guest wing. What safer place from an incubus than in the hands of an incubus killer?

  Shut up, I told myself. Check the other rooms again. Check Helena. After all, Ema’s mum was the safest way to spy on her husband.

  Still, the headaches would only worsen unless I did something to placate Lilith’s command. My hands shook as I reached for the door knob and pulled myself to my feet. Then I felt it; the static-shock sensation of my senses going on high alert, warning me of a presence. I focused on the door and listened carefully to the activity on the other side.

  Jesu’s heavy boots crunched against the carpet fibers as he entered the guest wing and then marched down the hall. I prepared to phase, but he stopped short of his chambers and knocked on a door that was not the one I pressed against now.

  The other door opened. Logan’s voice answered, “Everything okay?”

  “No,” said Jesu. “We need to talk.”

  Footsteps shuffled aside. Then the door closed. I pushed my senses further, trying to hear what was being said beyond Logan’s door—but I was met with a proverbial brick wall. Or, more likely, some kind of privacy barrier. I could hear any conversation, anywhere in the castle, if I focused hard enough. It was no accident that I couldn’t hear a single word past a single door across the hall.

  I reeled in my senses and sighed. Tension pressed against my brow. The need to learn what Logan was up to—what he might know about the ring—conflicted with my requirement for stealth. I could’ve burst into the room with them, guns a’ blazing, but then my time with Brinnon would be over. Or at least much more strained.

  Still, pain was a great motivator.

  I phased past Jesu’s bedroom door and slinked along the corridor wall, invisible to the guards as I brushed past them, until I was outside Logan’s room. The soldier stationed there turned and look
at me, but his gaze went right through mine. He shrugged off his suspicion. I turned my attention to the door and tried to listen another way. I reached out with my oscillatory perception, feeling for soundwaves in the air, but it was like trying to feel rain while sitting at the bottom of an ocean. My essence was blocked.

  The sire bond cracked through my skull in a temperamental fit, causing a shiver so strong my body solidified of its own accord. I knocked into the nearest guard. Panicked, I threw out a pulse of purple light then disappeared again before anyone saw me.

  I popped down into the deep, dank underbelly of the castle dungeon and solidified with all ten fingers buried in my hair, palms pressed against my eyelids. “Son of a bitch.” That was too close. I’d nearly given myself away. What was I saying, I did give myself away! Whoever found the three guards sleeping on duty would know I’d been by. “Shit.”

  “Bad day?” Sarcasm dripped from within the shadows of the jail cell at the far end of the dungeon.

  “Still better than your lot.” My gaze slid to the metal bars and found the silhouette of a man sitting cross-legged against the grimy stone wall. I took a step closer and examined the Prince. His pants were torn, stiff, and filthy; but his shirt was a perfect stark white, his hands clean, his face neat. Even hunched in the muck, Jalmari looked like sex on a stick; all hard lines and piercing come-hither eyes with attitude to spare. Too bad he wasn’t even the least bit bi-curious.

  I noticed a pile of books next to the Prince and scanned some of the titles. My brow arched. “Tristen and Isolde. Wuthering Heights. Pride and Prejudice.” I scoffed. “What, no Gone with the Wind?”

  “Did you need something, incubus?”

  I rubbed my temples and muttered to myself. “Ought to rip ‘em off like a Band-Aid, mate.”

  Jalmari’s gaze narrowed.

  “Unrequited love.” I pointed to the pile of books. “Best nick it in the bud before it festers. But of course, you wouldn’t want to put the Princess off too soon. Then you’ll never get your father’s precious ring.” I was babbling; picking at Jalmari’s nerves to placate my own—but mentioning Sara and the ring gave me an idea. A very bad idea. The headaches zinged to the forefront of my brain, lancing me with the need to act. I winced to the side.

  Jalmari stood, causing his chains to rattle. “If you touch her—”

  “I’m sorry, what? I’m having trouble hearing, can you come closer?”

  Jalmari’s hands fisted at his sides and his mouth curled back with a low growl.

  “Oh, wait. That’s right—you’re locked up, mate. Looks like you can’t stop me.”

  “You’re dead, incubus. I’m going to kill you.”

  “Yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “We’ve all heard that song before. You’re going to kill me, you’re going to kill Ema, you’re going to kill your unborn children. Don’t you ever get tired of making empty threats?”

  Jalmari’s features screwed themselves into something I couldn’t quite read. Like a photograph snapped mid-movement, Jalmari’s scowl froze somewhere between bitter anger and petrified doubt. “What did you say?”

  My cellphone chose that moment to vibrate in my pocket. “Hold that thought.” I fished out the device and checked the screen. One new text message from Pookie Bear.

  Witness claims Apollyon is your uncle. Care to comment?

  Nope. I turned the phone off and shoved it into my pocket. “Where was I?”

  “Children,” Jalmari seethed. His jade-colored eyes traced my form, and he lifted his chin. “Surely you meant child.”

  My brow shot upward and I full-on laughed. “Nah mate, you’re having twins. Guess no one told you. You might want to start a college fund in case their mum wants to school them in her homeland.” I winked and then dispersed.

  This time I went to Brinnon’s room, but I did not solidify. I could sense him in the shower. Running water sounded from behind the closed bathroom door. I ached to join him. To see his perfect, pale flesh slick with moisture, to fall into his golden irises and stay lost in his heat. But I had no time for pleasure. I was in need of damage control. So I stayed phased and slipped past the door into the bleary humidity, where I searched the bathroom for Brinnon’s cellphone. Technology had a sharpness all its own, different from the sleek vibrations of the tile floor or the chrome sink. I found the device, phased it, and then slipped back into the Prince’s chambers. I became whole and, with a quick glance over my shoulder, found Sara’s contact information. I sent her a text:

  I know about the ring. Search Logan’s room. Bring it to me. Tell no one.

  I waited a moment for the message to deliver then I deleted it from Brinnon’s phone. Logan had no reason to suspect ill from the Princess. No one did. When she wasn’t playing nurse with Jalmari, she was the one who delivered the humans their meals. She was already using the excuse to search through Ema’s room. Sara would assume her brother wanted the ring for safe-keeping or some other such harmless reason. When she found it, she would either give it to Brinnon, or betray her brother and give it to Jalmari. Either way, I would get what I needed.

  CHAPTER 5

  I stayed in the abandoned schoolroom a while longer, watching the glow of the candlewick flicker over the faded wallpaper. It was nice to have a few moments alone. Unfortunately, my knees soon began to ache, and the Nephilim in my blood craved movement. Plus, I needed to tell my parents, and Anthony, that Brinnon wanted to question them.

  Sighing, I stood and pinched out the flame. The room wasn’t nearly as dark with the door ripped off. It lay diagonally within the rectangular opening, and I held on to the molding while stretching one leg across, then the other. I wished, not for the first time since discovering the occupancy in my womb, I could phase to my bedroom. But Doctor Gordon had a strict no-phasing-no-shifting policy. So I suffered through the stares and whispers while dragging my feet through the corridors and stairways. At least I didn’t run into Auda.

  Yet, something stranger waited at the top of the tower steps. Jesu, Dad, and the Alpan guards stood close together, murmuring in quick disgruntled tones. They stopped before I could figure out if their words were English or German, but the looks on their faces weren’t comforting.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” said Jesu.

  Dad looked at him with a slight furrow, then looked at me and seemed to decide not to argue. The guards returned to their stations without another word, but I caught a few odd side glances. Something was up, but Jesu was clearly still too miffed with me to talk about it.

  “Okay,” I said, taking a step toward my father. “Brinnon wants to question you later. About Panama.”

  Jesu crossed the hall to his bedroom door, but he paused when I mentioned Brinnon. I thought he might say something, but he just disappeared into his room and shut the door.

  Dad touched my arm. “We need to talk, pumpkin.”

  I shuddered at the thought and hugged myself. “I’m kind of busy right now. I need to go warn Anthony and Mom.”

  “I can help explain things to them, you know. I have some practice.”

  Really? Like how you explained to your own daughter? Oh wait, you didn’t. I cleared my throat so my tone wouldn’t give away my feelings.

  “Actually, this is something I need to do on my own.” I went to Anthony’s door and knocked. I could feel Dad watching me and could see him in the side of my vision. After a moment, he sighed and then disappeared into his room, leaving me alone with the guards.

  When Anthony didn’t answer, I knocked again. “Hey, it’s me,” I called out. “Are you sleeping?”

  No answer. I looked at the guard. The man shrugged. With a sigh, I gripped the knob and let myself in. The bedcovers were rumpled but empty. I glanced around the vacant room and cast my acute senses outward. He couldn’t have escaped. There were no windows. The only way out was the door. He had to be hiding somewhere. The bathroom, maybe?

  I went to the private restroom and was about to knock on the door when
a strained grunt sounded somewhere behind me. I turned, facing the mantel, but there was nothing there. My gaze narrowed to slits and I listened carefully. Little clicks sounded from the fireplace. Tiny pebbles and flakes of black ash fell from within the chimney. The pebbles bounced off the iron log rack in the hearth before landing on the charred brick platform beneath.

  He can’t be, I thought while stepping toward the mantel. Can he?

  I bent low and leaned into the hearth, twisting slightly to glance up into the dark chimney. All of Anthony’s six-foot-three-inches frame was awkwardly bunched into the four-by-four cubic space of the flute. He looked down, the whites of his eyes a beacon against the black shadows and soot. I pulled both lips between my teeth and bit back the urge to laugh, but it only resulted in a bursting chortle. Anthony rolled his eyes.

  “Need a little help?” I asked.

  “No.” He pushed against the stone confides, grunting with the strain, to no avail. I couldn’t even tell if he was trying to go up or down.

  “Can I ask what you’re doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” The words punched from gritted teeth.

  “Well,” I stepped away from the hearth and straightened my spine. “It looks like you got yourself stuck in the chimney.”

  “I’m not stuck. I’m just... taking a break.”

  Ash floated to the ground, disturbed by the echo of his voice. I crossed my arms and jutted my hip to the side. “It won’t work. The castle is at least ten stories tall.” Actually, I had no idea how tall the castle was, but neither did Anthony.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m—oh shit!”

  A shower of debris fell from the chimney, along with a flailing Anthony. He landed with a crash and a mushroom cloud of black soot. The bedroom door flung open. Jesu and the guard ran into the room and glanced at the two of us. I shooed them away and closed the door.