Ascension Series Boxset: Books 1 - 3

by Laura Hall

  A warm wind passed through the darkened forest, stirring leaves and giving a sinister aspect to the night. My eyes tracked imaginary beasts among the trees and the swinging shadows cast by Mal’s flashlight. I had the powerful instinct we were being watched.

  “How was your sojourn with the Fae?”

  My trance broke and the forest was just a forest again. “Don’t remember.”

  He chuckled. “That good, huh?”

  “No, really, I don’t remember,” I said bitterly. “The queen or someone wiped my memory. On a brighter note, Lucian said I don’t need my gloves anymore. I haven’t experimented yet, though, so no touching.”

  Mal spoke over his shoulder. “Too late. You hugged me without gloves.” I halted abruptly. He stopped and turned back, expression concerned. “You really don’t remember?”

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I hugged you like I knew I wouldn’t hurt you, but don’t remember how or why. That’s weird, right?”

  My skin prickled, not with electricity as in the past, but with irritation. Missing a chunk of my personal timeline was unacceptable, not to mention unnerving. Especially given the zillion rules and warnings I’d received before calling for Lucian a month ago.

  A plethora of horrible scenarios took shape in my imagination. Had I violated one of the Fae’s precious unspoken rules? Eaten food from the queen’s hand? Made eye contact with her? Had they drugged me? Bespelled me? Enslaved me?

  Was Lucian telling the truth? Did I even trust him? I wouldn’t have had to go into the Sidhe at all if he hadn’t tricked me into making a deal.

  One after the other, emotions piled on as my initial shock wore off. Anger, violation, vulnerability, fear. And anger again. There was no way I was letting the Fae get away with scrambling my brains.

  My charge rose to a hum, but still felt distant. Strangely contained. My skin wasn’t prickling anymore. It was crawling.

  I clenched my hands and pulled electricity into my palms in a heady surge. So far so good. The air around me crackled as it ionized. Instead of dripping sparks, though, luminous blue-white light spilled from between my fingers.

  “That’s new,” said Mal.

  “I’ll say,” I whispered. “I wonder . . .”

  I lifted my right hand and uncurled my index finger, pointing it at a boulder roughly ten feet away. With the slightest flick, a tiny bolt of electricity streaked through the air, sizzling as it connected with rock.

  Trust the training.

  I flexed my finger again, this time a little more forcefully. A thicker but no less targeted bolt struck the boulder.

  Mal whistled softly.

  I took a deep breath and pulled the charge back into my body. My hands went dark. I tapped my fingers together. Nothing. No buildup of power, no overflow. I had no idea where the electricity had gone, but I was fully grounded and safe to laypersons.

  “Neat,” I murmured. I looked at Mal. “Now I just need my memory back. What if the Fae planted a chip in my head or something?”

  Watching me with a resigned look, he said, “Sometimes I wonder if you were cursed by a gypsy in infancy.”

  I frowned. “Seriously?”

  He sighed. “I hate to even suggest this, but you know who might be able to access—”

  “No,” I interjected. “Not inviting Connor into my head. I’ll figure it out myself.”

  There was a weighted pause, then, “Still holding a grudge because he told you how he felt?”

  My body flashed hot, then cold. “That’s not fair.”

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” he asked bluntly. “Frankly, I wasn’t surprised you bailed. Your mother leaving and Michael dying did a number on you.”

  I held onto my composure by the skin of my teeth. “Gee, Dr. Mal, where’d you get your degree?”

  He shook his head sadly. “I just love you and want you to be happy.”

  “Connor Thorne did not make me happy,” I said thinly.

  Mal stared at me.

  I stared back.

  He broke the silence with, “Still a shit liar,” and walked away.

  Three

  Sullivan’s Pub in Silver Lake was mostly unchanged from the last time I’d been inside its hallowed, ale-soaked walls. The biggest difference was I wasn’t tending bar. Neither was Katrina, my former coworker and friend, who unbeknownst to me had been undercover FBI.

  That particular memory made it hard to feel nostalgic for the old days. Since revealing herself last fall, Katrina had done her best to prove herself still a friend and always an ally. But a friendship built on lies was . . . built on lies. Her cousin Ethan had run the same scam on me. Maybe it was a family thing.

  Mal found me a baseball cap to conceal my hair before leading me through the back door of the pub. The crowd was mellow for a Sunday, so I was able to find a table surrounded by empty tables. I settled in a chair that put my back to a wall and kept both exits in my line of sight.

  I wasn’t generally a paranoid person, but without my amulets I felt naked. Exposed. It wasn’t that long ago my face had been splashed on every major news network in the nation.

  In a world of nouveau-freaks, I was an anomaly. All of us were changed by Ascension, but whereas the rest of the population fell into five specific classes—vampire, shifter, mage, cipher, or null—I was a bastard child of the Fae. And for most, the Fae remained within the purview of fairy tales.

  Last year, I’d been outed to the media as an Elemental, supposedly the first of a new supernatural species. I wasn’t the first or the only. I was, however, the only one of my kind linked to the most popular, powerful, eligible vampire bachelor in the United States.

  I knew now that Connor had exposed me to protect me. At least two government agencies had been sniffing around, and eventually the FBI had done its best to remand me into custody. Connor had merely ensured I’d be missed if I suddenly disappeared.

  But had he let me in on his plan? Any of his plans last fall? Nope. He’d let me fumble and scramble around in the dark, a puppet fighting unknown puppeteers.

  Was I condemning the man for wanting to take care of me? Maybe.

  Every time the front door opened I twitched, expecting a six-and-a-half-foot Celtic vampire to appear. He’d been a farmer in his youth, raised by loving parents who’d taught him the value of loyalty and honor—

  “Deep thoughts?”

  I jerked in place, then glared at a grinning Mal as he offered me a pint. “Just figuring out how I’m getting back to Montana. I don’t have any ID. And I need to call Dad and let him know I survived the Fae.”

  “Already did. He said you should stay in Los Angeles with me for a few weeks. He’ll fly out at the end of the month and you’ll drive back together.”

  I blinked a few times. “What? No way. I’m not staying in L.A. It’s too . . .”

  “Close?”

  I took a deep pull on my ale. “I hate you.”

  His lips twitched. “You can stay upstairs with me and help tend bar. A bartender quit last week.”

  “What an amazing coincidence.”

  His hands lifted in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t know you’d end up here. This afternoon I got a computerized voicemail telling me to fetch you at the site of your Ascension with a time.”

  “Really?” I gaped.

  He nodded. “Strange, I know.”

  The implications of his statement made my head spin. If the Fae understood and used human technology, it meant they were spending time in our world, outside their precious Sidhes. A terrifying thought, because either they were living among us unnoticed, or had allies. Or slaves.

  As a part of my preparation for the Sidhe, Delilah—my power-hungry megalomaniac of a mother—had told me to never, ever, under any circumstances trust the Fae. Call me a sucker, but I believed her. She had valid reasons for mistrusting them.

  Although it was true the Fae couldn’t tell an outright lie, they made an art of manipulating the truth to suit their purposes. So when Lucian ha
d said my memory lapse was in the best interest of the Fae, he could have been implying that my best interests had been violated. But that was assuming he hadn’t been able to speak plainly.

  Perhaps another Fae had been listening, which would explain the spooky vibe I’d gotten leaving the forest. Another theory only plausible if Lucian was my ally. Which wasn’t at all certain.

  I squinted at Mal. “I don’t suppose you can replicate Adam’s hair color amulet?”

  He grunted. “I’m good but not that good. Should I call him, see if he can send down another?”

  My muscles locked. “Definitely not.”

  Adam Gibbs was Connor’s right-hand man, Omega to Prime. He was also an Opal Mage, the highest level of magic user. There were only six in the United States and under fifty worldwide, as most mages who made the final transition to Opal tended to go insane or off themselves. Sometimes both, sometimes with mass casualties. There were a lot of theories why, but no definitive answers. Opals either went bananas or they didn’t. Personally, I thought coping with the power to kill with your mind required a special kind of crazy.

  Adam and I had a complex, sibling-like relationship. Or as close to one as I knew, given I was an only child. Our last dialogue had consisted of him telling me what a selfish bitch I was for leaving Connor without word. And for making him complicit in my betrayal, as a formerly sworn vow had bound him to helping my dad and me disappear. The only reason he’d given me the amulet was because he didn’t want Connor tortured with rumors of me being spotted.

  “I still have Ethan Accosi’s number,” Mal offered.

  I grimaced. One Opal was bad enough; I was either lucky or cursed to know three. “I’d rather call Alisande, and you know how much I loathe that old bat.” At Mal’s worried expression, I reached across the table and squeezed his hand, then kept holding it for the sheer relief of touching someone without danger. “Like you said, it’s been six months. I’m sure the world has moved on to more interesting stories than some freak who throws lightning bolts.”

  He nodded. “Sure, kiddo. You hungry?”

  I forced a grin. “Always.”

  Without the arrowhead protecting my mind, sleep was more dangerous than the Fae. After settling upstairs in Mal’s second bedroom, I fought growing fatigue with coffee and infomercials.

  For only ten payments of twenty-nine dollars, I could be the proud owner of a cutting edge personal chef module. With adaptive spells embedded in its circuitry, the machine would learn my routines and generate in advance of my requests. Neat idea, but a little steep for what in my case would be a glorified coffee maker.

  Around 3:00 a.m., I started feeling wonky. I somehow made it through an hour long presentation on a makeup line by a cosmetologist to the stars. A Sapphire Mage, she’d developed a spell—wearable as a ring or necklace, customizable to your birth stone—that kept your face airbrushed and camera ready for days. The combination of sleep deprivation and the sheer earnestness of the actors made it difficult to resist. It was a good thing I didn’t have a cell phone or credit card on me.

  As the next infomercial began, my eyes started to cross. The ad was for the newest driverless car, only affordable if your other car was a private jet. I almost changed the channel, but fell prey to the voyeuristic need to see how the 1 percent lived.

  Nearly half the world’s population was capable of magic since Ascension, but everyday life had barely changed. The rich were still rich, the poor still poor. Advances in technology due to magic were rarely seen outside mansions of the uber wealthy and the occasional sensational news story. Or 4:00 a.m. infomercial.

  According to Mal, the continued exclusivity of magic-enhanced luxury had a simple cause. Despite Ascension granting magical talent to so many, spellcasting didn’t come naturally to everyone. It was a skill mages learned, and like any skill it required discipline and hard work. The vast majority of mages were lower levels—Ruby, Amber, and Topaz—whose skills never grew past needing elaborate formulas and tools. Only those gifted with intuitive magic by Ascension, like Mal, or those motivated and steadfast, managed to reach the ranks of Emerald and Sapphire.

  I’d heard a rumor once that Adam Gibbs was the only Opal Mage to have become one purely by Ascension. Prior to that fateful day, he’d been an army medic and magical null. But those were just rumors, and I doubted I’d have the opportunity to ask him. Not without crossing paths with—

  “If you’re that curious, just pick up a phone,” said a low, ironic voice. “I’m sure Adam would tell you the story of his Ascension.”

  Four

  Sonofabitch.

  I opened my eyes in domhan, the world of shared lucid dreaming. Gone was the flickering television and promise of easy payment plans. I stood in a familiar, comforting space, smelling of old books, leather, and the subtle tang of liquor. Beyond the library’s windows was a lush forest, obscured now by night. The glass reflected candlelight from the room and highlighted the figure of a man.

  Staring into the darkness was Connor.

  A disorienting mix of panic and desire had me grabbing the back of a chair to steady myself. I blurted, “I’m sorry.”

  There was a slight pause. “I’m not interested in your apologies,” he said mildly. His head tilted. “Until you can control your thoughts, you should invest in sleeping pills.”

  Perfect. He was saying this was my fault. As usual, I’d been thinking of him as I drifted off. And without the amulet’s protection, my thoughts had been giant, flashing arrows of invitation.

  “H-how are you?” I stammered.

  He graced me with a hint of profile. Curve of cheekbone. Slight bump in an otherwise perfect nose. Full lips currently thinned. “Fine, thank you. And you?”

  “Good, thanks.”

  This wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare.

  Doubt and insecurity clogged my throat. There was so much I wanted to tell him, to share with him about the last six months. I’d learned to gut a fish and ride a horse. I was getting pretty good at a roundhouse kick. But I couldn’t. There was nothing to say except I was sorry.

  And I was. I was sorry for leaving without word, for camouflaging my presence so he wouldn’t know if I was alive or dead. I was sorry for not trusting him, for not being strong enough to love him back.

  To admit I loved him back.

  I wished he would turn around. God, I’d missed his face. The mercurial eyes that changed with his emotions. His voice and smile. I’d give anything right now to hear him laugh.

  Candlelight flickered madly as shadowy wings rose from his shoulders and dropped sharply. “Stop,” he said on a sigh. “Please, think of something else.”

  Flushing, I dropped my chin and forcefully pictured three easy payments of twenty-nine dollars . . . and he grunted with familiar, exasperated amusement.

  I glanced up to find him watching me. My heart pounded hard, suddenly too big for my chest. He looked subtly different, features sharper without the framing of dark hair. What was left was trimmed close to his skull, enhancing the lines of his jaw and cheekbones. His eyes were changed as well. Distant. Darker. He was still unreasonably beautiful, in a way that evoked half-formed thoughts of ancient, shadowed forests and long-forgotten battle cries.

  I took an involuntary step forward, a puppet on strings. He lifted a staying hand and my muscles locked, freezing me in place. Fear punched me in the gut.

  “Connor?” I whispered.

  “It’s the compagno bond,” he said evenly. “I’m doing my best to regulate it, but your proximity after such a long absence is challenging.”

  I swallowed hard. “Sorry.”

  “As I said—”

  “Gotcha. Not sorry.” I took several steps backward just to prove I could. The farther away from him I moved, the easier it was to breathe. Suddenly, I really wanted to be somewhere else. “Can you send me back to single occupant dreamland?”

  As I was staring at the floor, I missed his expression, but heard frustration as he said, “I didn’t
volunteer to have my current activities interrupted. Janelle forgot to warn me the compulsion went both ways.”

  Well, at least some of his frustration was for the Midwestern Prime. Did he know she’d been the one to give me the means to cloak my presence? Had Adam cracked and told him where I’d gone?

  “He didn’t tell me until today and I’m likewise newly aware of Janelle’s role in your . . .” He trailed off, then finished wryly, “Liberation? Escape? Now please stop thinking so loudly. I’m trying to work out how to release us from domhan.”

  I nodded, then kept nodding because I felt like an awkward teenager. When I realized what I was doing, I traded the head jerking for lip chewing.

  Telling me not to think loudly was like telling a toddler not to yank the cat’s tail. He said I’d interrupted his current activities. If he hadn’t been sleeping, what the hell had he been doing at four in the morning? Being an Ancient, he wasn’t nocturnal. Unless by current activities, he’d meant . . .

  I froze again, this time of my own volition.

  I hadn't imagined him celibate, but it still hurt. More than I expected. Now that I was faced with evidence that he’d moved on, I realized I’d been harboring hope that he’d waited. That he still had feelings for me. Stupid. It might as well have been twenty years ago he’d told me he loved me, that I’d left his bed and walked out of his life like a scared, immature fool.

  Connor sighed. “Fiona . . .”

  In spite of my embarrassment, I met his gaze unflinching. “Just get me out of here. I’ll buy sleeping pills.”

  I still couldn't make out the color of his eyes, but was nevertheless certain they were bleeding from green to black. “I’m almost there.”

  The edges of my vision began to blur. As the dream spiraled inward, I couldn’t help saying a final time, “I’m sorry.”

  Phantom lips trailed along my jaw to tease the sensitive skin beneath my ear. In a voice of midnight, fathomless and chilling, he murmured, “I am unbelievably angry with you.” I shuddered, due more to his nearness than his words. Unhealthy though it was, I’d never been afraid of him.