Ascension Series Boxset: Books 1 - 3

by Laura Hall

  The other two scoffed, but couldn’t conceal the spikes of interest in their eyes. Gazing at each of them in turn, I said reassuringly, “Not with the gloves on. So, did your boss mention why he took me into custody illegally?”

  “You’re not under arrest,” growled the werelion.

  I jerked my wrists, making the handcuffs dance. “Oh yeah?”

  “It’s for your protection,” said the mage, though she didn’t sound confident. She and the werelion traded a long look. At length, she turned back to me. “Do you know why?”

  I almost laughed. Almost.

  “I don’t think you’ll appreciate the answer.” When I received blank stares, my jaw clenched in anger. “Maybe it’s because civilian rights have taken a second chair to the race for power. Or because I’m an asset our government wants to claim and use against its enemies.” I huffed out a breath and lowered my voice. “I swear I’m not a threat to you. I’m a bartender from Los Angeles and I just want to find my missing father. Please, uncuff me.”

  The unmistakable chime of a doorbell peeled through the room.

  The agents traded sharp glances. “Who the hell is that?” snarled the werelion.

  My hackles rose even as excitement pounded in my veins. Ethan. I focused just enough to sense him nearby. Relief melted me against the headboard.

  The mage unclipped the holster at her hip as the younger man whipped out his cell phone and made a call. “Are we expecting anyone? No? Yes, she’s secure. All right.” He hung up, eyes showing white around the edges, and jerked his head toward me. “Whitaker says the two mages with her disappeared from the hotel an hour ago. He’s sending a team, but there’s no way they’re here yet.”

  The doorbell rang again.

  “I’ve got this,” snapped the woman, lifting her sidearm free and tabbing off the safety. Emerald light flared around her as she raised defensive spells.

  Icy fear clawed my stomach. “You don’t understand. We just want—”

  “Shut up,” snapped the werelion.

  With a final glance my way, the mage slipped out the door on the right. The men took up positions on either side, guns out and waiting. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. Violet light danced down my gloves.

  An excruciatingly long minute later, the mage reappeared. Sweat glistened on her forehead. Her eyes darted to me, then fixed on the werelion.

  “Not the mages. Some guy I’ve never seen before. Bald. Six-two. Holding a glowing crystal ball. I think . . . I think he’s Liberati.”

  Time slowed to a crawl. Or maybe it was my heart, tripping and struggling to find rhythm. Terror loosened my limbs, made my vision sparkle.

  Finally, I choked out a strangled, “Cuffs!” The agents looked at me. Time stuttered, then raced into hyperdrive. I yelled, “Get me out of these cuffs!”

  There was an odd sucking noise, then the wall facing the street exploded. I screamed, curling into myself just in time to catch a chunk of drywall with my back instead of my face. The pain blacked me out for seconds—or minutes—and I came to coughing.

  Gunshots rang out, echoing strangely through the humming in my ears. There was yelling. Another, smaller explosion.

  Then silence, broken only by a distant car alarm and a lone dog’s barking.

  Footsteps, heavy and measured, approached the mattress. Too late, I grabbed at the edge of my glove with my teeth, hoping to pull it down or tear it off. My depth perception was so whacked from the explosion that I ended up biting my elbow.

  “Ah ah,” said Bald Guy. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  There was a thud near the bed. My eyes snapped open and took in the sight of the man kneeling at the Liberati’s feet, hands cuffed at his waist and a thick, iron collar around his throat.

  “No,” I croaked.

  Blood masked a side of Ethan’s face from temple to jaw. One shoulder sat lower than the other, an unnatural tilt that spoke of dislocation. His eyes were blazing with agony.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered thickly, blood bubbling from a split lip. “I didn’t sense them coming.”

  What about Mal and Katrina? The question must have shown in my eyes, because Ethan nodded infinitesimally. They’d gotten away, then. Thank God.

  I lifted my gaze to the Liberati. “You’ll have to kill me. I’m not going anywhere near your electric chair.”

  He laughed, a weirdly manufactured sound. His eyes stayed flat and dark. Reptilian. If I’d had any prior doubts, I decided then he was completely fucking insane.

  “I admire your gumption, Fiona, but you’ll yield readily enough.” He looked past me. “Bring the syringe.”

  I attacked the glove on my nearest arm again—had just gotten a hold of the fabric with my teeth—when a fist connected with my temple.

  “Never mind,” said a voice, far away. “She’s out.”

  Twelve

  I heard water dripping and classic rock crackling softly from a radio with spotty reception. The nearer I moved to consciousness, the more pain flooded my body. I tried to lift my head but couldn’t. My arms felt weighted down, my ribs tight. It hurt to breathe. I was curled into myself, resting on top of something hard and warm.

  “It’s me,” whispered Ethan.

  My eyes finally opened and I blinked up at Ethan, sitting cross-legged with me in his lap. We were in a ten by ten cage, iron bars enclosing the sides and top. A soft hum issued from the metal. It was almost completely dark, the barest of lights emitting from the outline of a distant doorway.

  “You were thrashing,” he said mutedly.

  I glanced at the bars. “Pfft. Like they could hurt me.”

  He dropped his head to my shoulder. “God, Fiona. He hit you so hard.” He swallowed heavily. “This collar, it’s some sort of magic disruptor. I can’t summon at all. I can’t get us out of here. And we’re not in Henderson. They drove us hours outside the city. Slashed the tires on our car so Mal and Katrina couldn’t follow.”

  He sounded helpless, defeated. My heart squeezed and I lifted my free hand, stroking the back of his head. His hair was incredibly soft.

  “We’ll figure something out. Or Katrina will bust in with a flamethrower, remember?”

  His eyes sought mine in the dark. “Your gloves. They took them.”

  I gave his hair a gentle tug with my bare fingers. “I noticed.”

  “We have maybe an hour before I can’t touch you.”

  The huskiness in his voice clued me in to his meaning.

  Oh.

  “Oh.” The silence thickened and his arms tightened. Awareness flowed through me, a gentle swell. Screw it. “Then I suppose you have to kiss me now, huh?”

  He made a low noise of agreement and lowered his mouth to mine. Our lips met, slightly parted and perfectly aligned. The kiss was soft and tender. And for a few moments, I forgot my pain and our prison.

  With a final, gentle graze, Ethan raised his head. “Please don’t tell me you regret that.”

  “I don’t,” I said honestly. “Do you?”

  “Definitely not. No.”

  I chuckled, shifting a little, and caught his sudden intake of breath. “Oh my God, your shoulder. It must be killing you.” I carefully extracted myself from his arms and knelt beside him on the cement.

  “I popped it back into place,” he said softly. “It’s just tender. How’s your head?”

  I winced. “Throbbing, but it’s not as bad as my ribs. I think I bruised a few when that wall flew into me. Those SIU agents are dead, aren’t they?”

  He nodded shortly. “Not your fault, Fiona. They were doing their jobs.”

  “I know.”

  But it still felt shitty.

  Warm hands framed my face. “As much as I don’t want to ask this, what are the chances Connor will come after you?”

  I considered the question that had already been floating in the back of my mind. “I don’t know. I can’t See him or anyone else. Something’s blocking me.”

  “There’s definitely a master
alchemist here.” He frowned. “What about the bloodbinding? Do you sense anything on your end?”

  I blinked in confusion at the term, then understood. “I have no idea what drinking Connor’s blood did beyond putting a locator chip in me. Does he know I’m hurt? Trapped?” I shrugged helplessly.

  “You didn’t drink enough,” he murmured.

  “Maybe,” I conceded, though he’d probably change his mind if he found out what Connor’s blood did to me. “What did he say to you and Mal?”

  “He told us where the safe house was, and said if a hair on your head was harmed, he’d cut off our legs and feed them to Declan.”

  I coughed a little. “Come again?”

  He nuzzled his nose into my cheek, sighing into my ear. “Whatever his feelings are for you, just know I don’t have any doubts about mine.”

  I sat back on my heels. “Ethan . . .”

  He found my hand, threading our fingers together. “I know, I’m sorry. This is the worst possible time for this conversation. I just—I know you care for him, maybe even love him.” He looked away momentarily, and when his eyes came back to mine I saw their determined gleam. “I’ll wait for you to figure it out. I think there’s something here, between us, that deserves a shot.”

  I studied him for a few moments, letting his words filter in and take root. I knew he was a proud man. Knew it had cost him to admit what he just had.

  “I don’t deserve you,” I whispered.

  He kissed me softly. “Let me be the judge of that.”

  Light blinded us as overhead beams flipped on. I cried out, covering my eyes. Ethan tugged me back into his lap, his arms encircling me protectively.

  A light, familiar voice said, “That was unbelievably touching. I even teared up a little.”

  I was on my feet before the thought of rising had fully formed. “Rosie,” I snarled. My vision adjusted slowly, painfully, and I saw her, standing beside the bald Liberati ten feet away. And behind them . . .

  “God have mercy,” I breathed.

  Cages. Stacked four high, they lined the walls of the gutted warehouse. Close to sixty percent of them had occupants. I scanned the nearest with mounting horror, seeing naked bodies and larger-than-natural animals.

  I didn’t see a bear, or my dad.

  “Frank Sullivan!” I screamed. “Dad!”

  “Shut her up!” snapped Rosie.

  The bald man strode toward our cage, the only freestanding enclosure, and drove a long, dark stick between the bars. The forked tip jabbed my thigh, tingling faintly on contact. For a stunned beat, I looked down at my leg, then met the startled gaze of the Liberati.

  “A cattle prod?” I hollered. “Are you stupid?”

  Heat flowed down my arms, sizzling and welcome. I clenched my hands, pulling the charge into my palms.

  “Do it and he dies.”

  I whipped toward the voice. A new man, stocky and with a face like melted candle wax, had a revolver pointed at Ethan’s head, the barrel angled between two bars. He pulled back the hammer and it clicked menacingly.

  I froze, hissing as my charge built to painful heights.

  Ethan’s face was a mask of calm. “Give the charge to the ground,” he murmured.

  “It’s too much,” I said through my teeth.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  But he might not be, not with the gun so close. Not when last time I’d generated an earthquake. And the supernaturals in the cages . . . there was no telling what casualties would occur.

  I spun toward Rosie. “What do you want me to do?” I cried.

  Her expression twisted, becoming ugly. “Don’t be dramatic, Fiona. I’ve seen you ground your charge. Do it.”

  She had no idea what she was asking.

  “Do it,” whispered Ethan.

  Static lifted my hair. Sparks dripped from my fingers. I had a handful of seconds before the lightning was out of my hands. I couldn’t release it upward without fear of bringing the roof down. Couldn’t send it outward with the threat to Ethan.

  That left one option.

  I grabbed the electric bars.

  The circuit closed, and with nowhere to go, the lightning gleefully tore through me.

  Thirteen

  I dreamed of Ascension Day. Bonfire smoke and pine resin. But instead of the usual scene, I was standing alone amidst empty camping chairs. A pack of graham crackers lay discarded on the ground, not yet scouted by ants. A bag of marshmallows listed on a nearby log.

  “Michael?” I asked, and my voice was tinny and small.

  Branches rustled and I spun, then choked on a gasp. Standing between two tall pines was Lucian, looking perfectly cool and collected. His gray uniform was gone, replaced by earth-toned clothes, snug and elegant. If not for his pale skin and white hair, he’d blend perfectly into the forest.

  “We call this domhan, the shared dream,” he said, stepping over several rocks. “Had you not been here before with the vampire, the way would have been much harder for me. You are very lucky I’ve come.”

  I’d never been accused of being slow on the uptake, but alas, there was a first for everything. I shook my head slowly. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

  He stopped several feet away, tilting his head curiously. “You don’t remember?”

  I thought back, trying to recall the time before arriving here. My last memory was seeing the gun pointed at Ethan’s head.

  “What happened?” I asked sharply.

  Pale lashes lowered slightly, shadowing radiant eyes. “Instead of providing an outlet for your lightning, you nearly committed suicide.”

  Sudden, total recall pulled a groan from my throat. My knees weakened and I sat unceremoniously on a log. I remembered grabbing the metal bars. And lightning, searing through me without surcease, circling around, and around, until it felt like my skin was melting off, my bones turning to dust.

  “Am I okay? Is it bad?”

  “There are no outward effects.” Lucian paced closer and settled into an empty chair, the one that had been Michael’s. “I’d like to offer assistance. Ask me now, and I will pull your physical flesh through domhan.”

  My mind raced. “You can do that?” He nodded airily. “What about Ethan and my dad, can you bring them too?”

  “No.”

  The simple word doused my hope.

  “Then no, thanks.” I stood and walked around the fire, which was flickering oddly, like a video on loop. “How do I get out of here?”

  “You cannot leave yet,” said Lucian softly.

  I turned on him. “Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

  For all his alienness, his sigh of frustration was quintessentially human. “Before a lightning strike in nature, there is a polarization of positive and negative charges. This process occurs continuously inside us. Because you discharged plasma into the perfect, closed environment of your body, you turned yourself into an electrical current equivalent of many hundreds of volts. Right now, you are lethal to the touch.” At the look on my face, he added, “No, I don’t know whether anyone has touched you. Domhan is shared lucid dreaming, not Sight.”

  I rubbed my face roughly. “You’re somehow keeping me here, so I don’t wake up?”

  “Yes. Again, you’re lucky I had not yet returned to the Sidhe.”

  Like the first time, I ignored his play for gratitude. I didn’t feel grateful. Annoyed and scared, definitely.

  “If I wake up now, I’ll die?” He hesitated a beat too long and I jabbed a finger in his direction. “Ah ha! It’s true, the Fae can’t lie?”

  His lips thinned. “We cannot. But it would be dangerous to awaken now. You are partially human. I don’t know that your mind would be able to assimilate the current.”

  “Thanks for the input. How do I wake up?”

  “I’m not telling you.”

  “Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll figure it out myself.”

  My first and best idea was to pinch my arm, which hurt but didn’t yield result
s. I followed it up with a temper tantrum, complete with feet stomping and hollering at the sky. All the while, Lucian watched me, his lovely eyes widened in awe as if viewing the rituals of an exotic beast.

  Finally, I rounded on him and growled, “What will it take?”

  Interest flared in his eyes. “You seek a bargain?”

  A bell of warning rang in my mind, but I said, “Two weeks, consecutive days, spent in the Western Sidhe doing the bidding of your White Queen. Timeframe of my choosing, but to be completed within two years of this date.”

  He smiled slowly, the unfeigned enjoyment of the expression catching me off guard. “You are not as unskilled as I imagined.”

  “Thank my dad,” I said shortly. “Do you agree?”

  “Six months, consecutive days, to be completed within a year and a half.”

  “Not a chance. Three weeks.”

  “Two months within a year.”

  “One month.” I pointed a finger at him. “In human time, mind you.”

  Lucian grinned wolfishly. “Done.”

  He rose sinuously and offered me his hand. The secretive glimmer in his eyes didn’t bode well for me. Not at all. But I needed out of here.

  I placed my hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he tugged me forward until I lost my balance and fell against him. An arm steadied me around my waist. Only a few inches taller than me, our faces were nearly touching.

  “The Fae seal bargains with a kiss, little one.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” When he just stared at me, I snapped, “Get on with it, then.”

  Our lips touched.

  Thunder rolled.

  . . . and pain exploded through every inch of me.

  I woke up screaming. On fire.

  There was a woman’s voice—familiar, but not Rosie—speaking in a low, urgent tone. I caught, “. . . double the dose.”

  No, wait!

  But the thought was useless. I didn’t feel the prick in my arm, but the drug moved swiftly through my bloodstream.

  I had a moment to realize Lucian had played me before darkness rose like a tidal wave and sucked me under.

  Fourteen