Dark Ascension

by J. D. Brown

  If I had been born to a different woman—to a vampyre or even a human—if I had been coddled and doted on and kept safe from the world; if I had known words of love and warmth, perhaps then I would’ve known how to help Brinnon.

  Instead, all I had was an infallible ability to seduce.

  I could give humans the most luxurious dreams. I could see into their subconscious and find their deepest most hidden desires; needs they didn’t even know they had. I could pull those wishes forward and make them tangible in the dream realm. I was good at it. The best. For what was sleep if not the ultimate seduction to a more forgiving world; a world where body and soul could be at peace?

  Brinnon covered his face with his hands and groaned into his palms. I was so close to his side now, his heat wrapped me in a vail of emotions I didn’t understand. I wanted him. Skin on skin. Lips on lips. Inside and out. I always wanted him. But it was more than that. I cared about him.

  My essence trembled as I touched a phantom hand to Brinnon’s arm. The softness of his smooth taut muscle felt as though I had dipped my hand into a warm pool. Love poured into me from the simple touch. I drew a phantom breath and held it while lungs, throat, and lips solidified just enough to give voice. My power pulsed through me as I pushed it outward, dousing the room in a soft purple haze.

  “Sleep,” I whispered.

  Brinnon’s eyes closed and his head lulled to this side.

  I solidified fully and stood next to him. He had always looked like a boy to me. Young. Innocent. Cherished. But, looking at him now and studying him while he slept, all walls down and completely vulnerable, he aged somehow. Lines I had never noticed before creased his brows and lips. His jaw seemed more rugged. His frame more sharply cut. The grief and responsibility was already getting to him—and I only fell deeper in lust because of it. Damn me and my tastes for royals. He was dangerously handsome. But what terrified me was that he was also good. Pure. He deserved so much more.

  I pulled my lips between my teeth and steeled myself against whatever I might find in his subconscious. Hesitant, I lifted my fingers to his temple and entered his mind.

  I gasped at what I saw there. His dreams for us. His feelings. The raw, brutal truth. I fought the urge to pull out and run away, determined to see this through. I wanted to be the one to give him a moment of peace, a moment to heal.

  Strengthening my resolve, I turned away from his more recent thoughts of grief and guilt, and dug deeper. I dove hard, submerging myself in his past, absorbing everything about him as I went. I tried not to. I tried to respect his privacy, but it was a thing that couldn’t always be helped. I was a sponge, and bits of Brinnon’s memories became my own. Not stolen. Never stolen. Just shared.

  Intimately.

  His life was everything I ever wanted. Parents who adored him. Siblings who admired him. Holidays and schooling. A future so big and bright he could hardly imagine anything else. I swallowed as envy reared its ugly head. His life wasn’t without pain. He lived in the closet for so long, afraid of what his family would think if they found out he wasn’t perfect. I scoffed. Coward. They were so full of love for him, how could he fear their judgement? He thought he knew pain. He had no idea.

  Stop, I told myself. Because this was getting ugly. I was getting ugly.

  I picked a memory. One I wished I could have shared in real life. I pulled the memory to the forefront of his mind and let it play out in his fantasies.

  On the surface, I could feel his muscles twitch. His subconscious fought against the dream. The man who lit the pyre and watched his father burn just yesterday could not accept the image of the little boy swinging in his father’s arms now.

  I took a deep breath, and then let my magic pool around the edges of his mind, slowly pulling him into a deeper level of sleep. I worked carefully, making sure he didn’t sink too fast or too far. Just the right amount, so as to become the little boy; to feel his father’s hands, strong and protective and sure, lifting him into the air. His subconscious accepted the dream, and his body relaxed, easing into the fantasy.

  I withdrew from his mind, back to the physical world, and removed my hand. Brinnon looked peaceful, and I found myself smiling.

  The smile quickly vanished as I thought about what I had seen. What I had felt.

  Oh Val, what a sodden fool you’ve become.

  I hadn’t meant for it to happen—but the Alpan Prince was in love. Fiercely, irrevocably, over the moon in L-O-V-E.

  It hurt him. I hurt him. Why did it always have to hurt?

  I really should go now.

  But it dawned on me that I couldn’t leave the Prince alone in this state. It was one thing to knock out a few guards—quite another thing altogether for anyone to find the Crown Prince bewitched to sleep. I had to stay to wake him in case anyone came knocking.

  So I wandered the room, unsure of what to do for the next half hour. I couldn’t sit still. Sitting led to thinking. Thinking led to overanalyzing. I didn’t want to examine everything I had just learned about Brinnon. I wanted to forget it. Not just because it was none of my business, but because thinking about it would force me to admit to myself that I...

  Love him, too.

  That was too much. I hadn’t felt this way since...

  Yumil.

  Just remembering his name set my fingers to curl. My fists trembled. I eyed the stuffed grizzly bear in the corner and fought the urge to use it as a punching bag. No—I would not let what happened to Yumil repeat itself ever again. I’d kept that promise for two thousand years. I would keep it for two thousand more.

  I should just wake Brinnon and leave.

  I went to his side to do exactly that, and reached out.

  Brinnon grabbed me first. His hand leaped up and snatched my wrist in a firm grip. My breath hitched as his lashes fanned open, and his bright yellow irises blinked at me from beneath narrowed slits.

  “What is this?” he murmured.

  My lips moved to explain, but before I could get the words out, Brinnon reached into his pocket and produced a cellphone. It wasn’t his. This one had a bubble-gum pink Beatles case with little rhinestone hearts. Brinnon pressed a few buttons and then angled the screen toward me. I already knew what waited there. I saw the confrontation in his thoughts—the crack of disappointment in his heart.

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

  I should’ve been mortified. Guilty. Instead, I was just relieved that Sara was still loyal to her brother. He would need her. A smile tugged one side of my mouth. “She told you.”

  “No. I borrowed her phone after mine mysteriously moved. I guess I had a hunch.”

  My smile fell.

  Brinnon stood, forcing me to take a few steps back. “I thought it was Jalmari. Hell, I wanted to believe it was him. But he’s locked up. You’re the only person who could access my phone.”

  I took another step back and lifted my chin, but I said nothing. What could I say? What use was there in lying? It was better this way.

  “Why?” he said through clenched teeth. “What does Lilith want with it? What did she want with Ema’s parents? What is she planning?”

  I couldn’t answer any of that, so I just stared at him, my heart breaking.

  Brinnon slammed the phone down on the desk. Claws sprouted from his fingernails, along with golden fur, and the phone lay shattered beneath a heavy paw. Feral eyes glared at me and he breathed hard, until the initial temper passed. After a moment, the claws retracted. Chewed fingernails and pale knuckles replaced them. He sighed deeply, and the breath shuddered through his core as he looked away. I did not see this outcome in his thoughts. Perhaps he hadn’t considered it yet himself, but I knew a breakup when I saw one.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered, almost to himself. “I’m going crazy second-guessing your motives. Second-guessing my own. I wish...” He swallowed hard. “I just can’t anymore, Val. I’m s—”

  I scoffed loudly. “Don’t flatter y
ourself, love. You were just an easy lay. A way to pass the time while following a rat.”

  He looked at me, wide-eyed, jaw slacked. I glanced away, unsure how long I could keep up the façade. I’ll never forget the hurt in his eyes or the tension in his Adam’s apple. It would haunt me, but I could handle it. I was a scumbag with nothing to lose, and I deserved to feel like a scumbag. I deserved every reminder of why I didn’t fall in love. Why I couldn’t.

  I blinked back the heat rising just behind my eyes, and then phased out of the castle.

  CHAPTER 7

  As I paced in the dimness, the door opened and my parents stepped into the room.

  Round two.

  I wasn’t mad at Anthony. How could I be? He was completely ignorant of the vampyre world; manipulated and used. But my parents? Their lies? I was so angry I could hardly look at them.

  Dad closed the door then stood slightly behind Mom. His gaze met mine then quickly lowered to his feet. Was it me, or did he look three kinds of guilty? He sure as heck chose the wrong time to start walking Mom around like they were high school sweethearts. I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “I guess you’re leaving now.”

  “Leaving?” Dad looked at me.

  “Brinnon said you were free to go once you answered his questions. So, bye.”

  My parents glanced at each other, and Dad sighed. “I’m not going anywhere, pumpkin.”

  “Well you’re not staying here. How were you at Mom’s house when Anthony brought Lilith? How did you know to be there?”

  “I called him,” said Mom, as though it were a completely normal thing to do.

  I balked at her. “You... what?”

  “I told him you were missing and asked him to come over.” She shrugged. “Honestly, Ema, your behavior—”

  “My behavior?”

  Dad cleared his throat and placed a hand on Mom’s shoulder. “Helena, can I speak to Ema alone for a minute?”

  “Don’t bother. I can’t stand to listen to either of you right now.” I shoved past them and yanked the door open.

  “Ema Marx, you do not speak to your father that way.”

  “Let her go,” said Dad.

  I stomped into the hall and slammed the door shut.

  Mom always told me Dad had left in the middle of the night, for no reason at all. Of course, I eventually realized there must have been some reason—and I figured that reason was Mom. She was insufferable to live with, and wasn’t that why people got divorced or separated? I always thought Dad was gone. Like really gone—no address or phone number. Just out of our lives forever. He abandoned us, Ema. That’s what Mom had said, but she obviously had some way of contacting him. Why the lies? Why the turmoil? Why keep me in the dark about who I was or what I was?

  I went across the hall and pounded on Maria’s bedroom door. When she didn’t answer, I took the back set of stairs two at a time, to the dining hall. It was about noon, which usually meant the dining room was deserted, but the opposite proved true today. My steps slowed to a stop as I reached the landing and took in the cacophony of activity. Two additional tables had been added to the original. Teams of servants carried in matching chairs, table clothes, silverware, candlesticks, and wine glasses. I hedged around the perimeter of the room, not wanting to get in the way, and then ducked into the kitchen.

  Princess Sara stood in front of the stove, where a medium sized pot sat on one of the burners.

  “Oh, hello.” She smiled. Then her cheeks tinged pink, and her gaze dropped to the contents of the pot. I spotted an empty pea soup can on the counter.

  “Smells good,” I lied. “Have you seen Maria?”

  Sara nodded. “She is in the drawing room with a new mountain of books.”

  Maria had been using the drawing room adjacent to one of the foyer’s numerous parlors as a private space to conduct her search.

  Rudo stood near the sink, washing dishes. It was a nice double-wide that made me think of the country.

  “How’s the Queen?” I asked him, but it was Sara who answered.

  “Mother is well. Sad, of course, but keeping busy with the decorations for the ball.”

  My brow lifted. “Ball?”

  “Oh, yes.” She nodded. “What good is a coronation without dinner and dancing?”

  I didn’t know. I had never been to a coronation of any kind. A smile slowly spread across my face. “Do you have a date?”

  The self-proclaimed spinster turned bright red. “Goodness no!”

  “Why not? There’s obviously someone you have in mind, or you wouldn’t be a lovely shade of ripe tomato.”

  Rudo scoffed softly, and I eyed him. I knew he understood English.

  “Oh no, there’s no one, I swear.” She stirred the soup, but the movement was jittery.

  “It’s the twenty-first century, you know?” I poked her in the ribs, earning a shrill squeak. “Ask him.”

  She winced and rubbed her side.

  I felt a little bad. I didn’t know why Sara was so painfully shy, but it wasn’t my place to prod. Besides, she had just lost her father, no thanks to me. “Alright, I won’t push. I just thought one of us ought to have a date.”

  “Won’t Prince Jesu escort you?”

  I bit my lip. Jesu and I didn’t exactly announce our breakup to everyone. He probably would be my date—even platonically—if I asked. But I told Bridget to seduce him, and it wouldn’t be fair to cockblock them now. No, Jesu would not be escorting me. No way.

  “I’m sure he’ll be there,” I said lamely.

  “He’ll look very handsome in a tuxedo.” Sara sighed wistfully as she took the spoon for another whirl in the green soup.

  I nodded in agreement. Jesu would most definitely look good in a tux. In fact, Jesu in a tux would probably be the death of me.

  “Well, I should go find Maria. Guess I’ll see you guys later.” I waved and then dashed to the other end of the dining room, where the arched opening led to the ballroom.

  Dozens of servants milled about there as well, with a few of Brinnon’s family members. Some of them helped each other carry a thickly rolled tapestry. Others stood atop dangerously tall ladders where they switched out the candles in the chandeliers. Most of them arranged flower bouquets and crystal garlands. Queen Cecelia stood in the center of it all, shouting orders. She seemed completely in her element. I even caught her smiling to herself as I carefully bypassed the busy servants.

  The foyer was less eventful, but just as crowded. A maid dusted the tabletops and shelves while a few well-dressed vampyres lounged on the settees devouring books. Thankfully, Auda was not among them. She didn’t strike me as a reader.

  I found the drawing room tucked into a shallow corridor near the right staircase, and let myself inside. Maria sat crossed-legged on a red velvet chaise, her coarse black hair a mass of frizzy fly-a-ways attempting escape from the bun at the nape of her slender neck. She had pulled three of the four cushioned armchairs close to her and piled them each a mile high with thick, weathered tomes and yellowed parchments. She hunched ravenously over the book currently in her lap, its sepia-colored pages open to show tiny hand-written script in blotchy black ink.

  She didn’t even bat an eye as I closed the door and crossed the room to look over her shoulder. “How’s the search going?”

  “Useless,” she muttered.

  “I see you gave up on the internet.” An antique writing desk stood near the hearth, on top of which rested an equally outdated laptop.

  “Bunch of con-artists. A real alchemist would never advertise.”

  “Sure.” I nodded. The logic did make sense, given how secretive vampyres were with their own existence. “So,” I gestured to the surrounding books, “what’s all this?”

  Maria glanced up and scowled. “Nothing. I was following a lead, but it doesn’t seem to go anywhere. None of them do.” She snapped the cover of the tome in her lap shut and sighed. “Might as well return them to the Council.”

  “You got all th
ese from the Alpan Council?”

  “Don’t be silly.” She smoothed a hand over her hair, but the frizz just sprang forward again as soon as her palm lowered. “These journals are from Tibet.”

  My eyes widened. “There’s a vampyre clan in Tibet?” I traced the soft leather of a spine with my fingertip. The gold fringe lettering was too worn to make out the title. “Who’s the author?”

  Maria gently swatted my hand away. “Careful, darling, that one is priceless. They belonged to an Indonesian scholar who found himself a little too close to the truths of our world.”

  “Poor guy.”

  Maria nodded and then added the tome in her lap to the stack. “Is everything all right?”

  I rubbed my arms and looked at the room. “I don’t know. I mean... I guess I just needed a break from my parents. They’re driving me nuts.”

  Maria stood, pushed one of the loaded chairs back a bit to make a path, and then stretched her arms up and cracked her knuckles. She kept her gaze down, thoughtful. I lowered into the velvet chaise and sighed. A million jumbled concerns spun around my mind.

  “I don’t suppose you know how to track down Lilith,” I murmured.

  “Lilith?” Maria faced me. “Whatever for?”

  I laid back and looked at the fancy molding on the ceiling. The cement had been expertly shaped into a pattern of loops. “Did you know Apollyon had a half-sister?”

  Maria was silent beside me. I looked at her from the corner of my vision. She was studying me, but shook her head. “No, I did not. Where did you hear such a thing?”

  “Bridget overheard Apollyon call Lilith his sister while she was imprisoned on the island.”

  Maria lifted one suspecting eyebrow. “Bridget did?”

  “It really doesn’t matter if it’s true, it’s just that...” I pushed upright and then faced her. “There’s more going on here. Lilith used Anthony, my ex-boyfriend, to... well, I don’t know what for exactly. I mean, why would she want to break a stranger’s heart? Or even if she is my great, great, great, however-many greats, aunt, what would be the point of hurting me? And it’s not just my ex. Lilith and Valafar kidnapped my parents and brought them to Apollyon. But that makes no sense at all. After all the times she and Valafar saved me from Apollyon, after she practically told me I was pregnant and needed to be more careful, why drag my parents into it? Why risk them? What does she want with me?” I paused for much needed oxygen. The words had rushed out of me like a geyser.