by Laura Hall
“Why do you need more, anyway?” I asked. “I know at least two drums were filled before you assholes split. Did the Liberati use all my ether already?”
In the ensuing silence, I tried not to think about how many alchemical weapons had been catalyzed with my ether, or how many people had died or were going to die when those weapons went off. I hoped I’d never know. The CIA and FBI had been complicit in the transfer—I simply had to believe they knew what they were doing. That they were tracking the weapons and stopping planned attacks.
The alternative was living with overwhelming guilt, and I was pretty maxed out in that category.
Newberry, apparently done tinkering with the helmet, finally answered my question. “The Liberati are a joke. A group of egomaniacal pissants playing at revolution. I work for a much purer cause.”
The unmistakable ring of crazy was in his voice, and for the first time, I considered the possibility that this was a suicide-revenge mission. Or that he was off his psych meds.
To confirm, I asked, “How are you planning on getting my ether out of here?” My gaze darted around the lab. “I don’t see any containers.”
“Not so smart, after all,” he said, then held up the helmet.
It took me a few seconds, but I eventually realized it wasn’t engineered to connect to anything. The conical attachments weren’t conduits, they were amplifiers.
As simple as that, his crazy was confirmed. He didn’t want to bring the building down. He wanted to bring Denver down.
Fine tremors ran through my body, either mortal fear or the drug’s first kiss. Probably both. In a last ditch effort, I looked at Valcourt. “What’s your stake in this?”
The little man’s face lit up. “I get to be famous.”
Well, shit.
I thought I heard a rumble outside the vault door. Valcourt heard it, too, because he darted to the keypad and pressed a button, activating a small monitoring screen. I expected to see Connor, but the hallway was empty. An overhead light flickered. The elevator doors were open, sparks from a live wire drifting inside the compartment.
I tried to reach out through the compagno bond, in case Connor had reactivated it, but Newberry’s drug was in the way. And on the heels of that disappointment, I felt the first, unmistakable effects of the Lodestone in the deepest root of my being, where my power lived. Like a slumbering beast poked with an iron, my core began to heat and twist.
“Nothing’s there,” Valcourt said.
“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Newberry, striding toward me with the Helmet of Death. “Her vampire boyfriend is likely minutes from getting past the Opal wards. Thankfully, we don’t need that long.”
A new voice, cold and clipped, said, “Actually, time’s up.”
Two muted concussions sounded. I jerked, craning my neck to find the speaker, and instead seeing Valcourt slide to the floor, a neat black mark on his forehead. A crash turned my head the other way in time to watch Newberry collapsing onto a countertop, then thumping onto the ground. The helmet hit the floor with a pop. I couldn’t see the alchemist’s face, but his fingers twitched spastically in a widening pool of blood.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”
“Fiona, shut up.”
I yelped as a man appeared out of nothing beside the gurney. Dark hair, dark eyes. Black fatigues and a gun with a silencer on it. Aura of brilliant white.
“Ethan?”
He went to work on my bindings, shaking his head. “Always causing trouble. It’s a bad habit of yours.” He freed me and helped me sit up, wincing as our skin touched. He stared at his hand, surprised. “I should be immune.” His gaze snapped to me in horror. “I’m too late, aren’t I? They already dosed you.”
I jumped to my feet. “Yes. This is really bad. Remember that earthquake I made in the Nevada desert? It’s about to be a thousand times worse. Where’s Connor? He needs to get me out of here.” I ran for the door and began mindlessly pounding on it. “Connor!”
Ethan grabbed me from behind. I tried to fight him off, but he was stronger and shoved me aside just as the vault door exploded inward. It clipped his shoulder and he spun away, hitting the wall with a grunt.
“Connor,” I gasped. My chest heaved as he appeared, but relief was short-lived. Shimmering bands of silver laced the edges of my vision. Glancing down, I saw my body lit up like a glowstick. Heat moved in waves from my feet to my crown, pulsing in higher and higher frequency.
I met Connor’s black gaze. An eternity seemed to pass in a second. “Get Ethan out of here,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I love you.”
Ethan snapped. “Go, Connor. I can contain it.” He scrambled to his feet and ran toward me.
“No!” I cried.
Opal mage or not, there was no way he could make a ward strong enough to buffer the building from what was happening to me.
I was going to die.
Innocent people were going to die.
A low roar filled my ears.
“Get out of here!” I yelled at Connor.
He shook his head, lips moving. I couldn’t hear him over the ringing vibration in my body. The pressure inside me built and built. My hair lifted from my shoulders. Searing heat shimmered along my limbs, star-bright. Excruciating.
I screamed.
Directly before me, space tore, dazzling light piercing my eyes. Then darkness, a million miles wide and deep, smothered me like a blanket.
Thank you for reading! Turn the page for a preview of Rebirth, the fourth installment of the Ascension Series.
Rebirth
book 4 of the ascension series
Chapter One
Softness cradled my aching body. Cool air bathed my skin, which felt feverish and scraped raw. Voices drifted around me, pitched low and indistinct. Three of them I knew—Connor, Ethan, and Lucian. The final two were women. One voice was soft and lilting, the other crisp and cutting.
As I neared full consciousness, mumbles turned to words. Ethan, sounding more annoyed than angry, said, “I’m fine, really.”
“My apologies,” said the gentle female voice.
“You did the right thing,” murmured Lucian, his voice near my head.
Connor, on the other side of me, said tiredly, “That remains to be seen.”
Fabric rustled. The crisp voice said, “I expect to be informed when she regains her mind. As for the other, I hold little hope.” A pause. “What an unconscionable waste.”
“Yes, my queen,” said the other woman.
“Vampire, your hour of reprieve is drawing to an end. Be gone or—”
“You’ll kill me, I know,” Connor said flatly.
I wondered if the queen could hear his derision, or if it was just me. Somehow I thought that if she had, she wouldn’t have let it slide. Her heels clicked in an unhurried pace, moving away. A door closed.
“She’s gone, Fiona,” murmured Connor.
I opened my eyes on a room done entirely in shades of gold. Instead of tacky, the effect was bright and joyful. To my left, a bank of open windows displayed a lively, blooming garden. The air was fresh and sweet.
I already had an inkling, but I asked, “How?”
Connor nodded at Lucian, who looked rather worse for wear, his usually neat braid in disarray. “He pulled us into the Sidhe before your charge released.”
Lucian cleared his throat. “As the Sidhe is magic, there is no magic that can harm it.”
“In fact,” said the remaining woman, smiling softly, “you caused several forests to expand by nearly a third, and an entire field of crops to spontaneously harvest. Not to mention the beautiful storms. It’s still raining, I believe.”
She looked like a more refined version of Lucian, with the same white hair and speckled gray eyes. I glanced between them. “Siblings?”
She laughed, a light tinkle. “How flattering. No, Lucian is my son. My name is Greta.”
“Nice to meet you, Greta,” I said and let my head fall back onto the pillow of a cushy di
van. My eyelids drifted closed. “Just a moment,” I whispered, “I’m going . . .”
“Rest, child,” said Greta.
“Mmm,” was my reply.
Connor and I stood side by side on our domhan beach. The sea was placid this time, slate gray under an overcast sky. The breeze tasted faintly metallic. For the first time, I realized there were no birds.
“You forgot the birds,” I said, nudging him with my shoulder. A seagull squawked, soaring into my line of sight. I took a deep, salty breath. “Much better.”
He said softly, “I know you should be resting, but there’s something I need to tell you.”
I glanced up at him. “I figured. Honestly, I don’t really care about anything except what Ethan’s told you about the connection between Valcourt, Newberry, and our missing L.A. socialites.”
He smiled tiredly, lifting fingers to the hair over my ear. “The CIA has been watching Valcourt for a few years. Aside from his government conspiracy theories, he'd recently been attending meetings with some known dissidents, many of them foreign.”
“The Liberati?” I guessed.
“No, although Thomas Newberry was among them. These players operate much more subtly than the Liberati. And they aren’t exclusively ciphers.”
I shrugged to cover my unease. “I can’t say I’m surprised. There have always been people trying to overthrow the government. It’s a pastime, like baseball.”
His smile was fleeting. “Ethan also informed me that undetermined amounts of the Lodestone drug left Denver yesterday. The FBI lost all but three trucks.”
I stared at him unblinking. “How many trucks total?”
“Twenty-five.” My mouth dropped open; he shook his head in frustration. “It’s impossible to know how much of the drug was on each truck, or even if every truck was carrying it.”
I looked down at the ribbons of pale foam near my feet. “How do you think Daphne and the women got their hands on it? Or better yet—why?”
He didn't answer several moments. “I have a theory, but I’m not very fond of it. You won’t be fond of it, either.” My brows went up and he sighed. “The amount of plasma the Lodestone forced you to generate would have been catastrophic.”
I hugged my arms to my chest. “Bye-bye Denver?”
His eyes met mine. “Goodbye Colorado.”
I swallowed air down the wrong pipe and bent sharply over, coughing my lungs out. Connor stroked my back until I could breathe again. Straightening, I said, “Tell me you’re not implying that the missing women were bait to lure me to Denver.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” he said mutedly. “But they didn’t expect me to be with you. Or Ethan, for that matter.”
I shook my head, then kept shaking it. “Nope. Not buying it. That’s . . . beyond elaborate. Too much could have gone wrong or differently. How would they know I would say yes to helping Charlie? That I’d make the Lodestone connection and reach out to Valcourt? That I’d be in Los Angeles at the right time? Unless . . .” My stomach sank. “You think my mother is involved?”
“No,” he replied. “But you’re right, yesterday’s events stink of predetermination.”
My mind jumped on its hamster wheel. “They’ve got someone on the inside. Someone in the LAPD or in the Prime’s Office feeding them information.”
“It would appear so.”
I thought of Charlie, then Lola. And finally of Katrina.
“It’s not Katrina,” he said firmly. “My vetting methods are foolproof. But when we return to Los Angeles, I will have chats with Detective Ramirez and his partner.”
I said tensely, “There are bound to be others in the police department with access to the case. My phone is one of theirs. Probably tapped.”
“Occam’s Razor,” he murmured, “The simplest answer . . .”
“Is usually the one that sucks the most,” I finished. He opened his arms and I stepped into them, mumbling, “I know it cost you to ask the Fae for help, but thank you for saving me. And Colorado.” He grunted; I looked up, catching the tail-end of his smile. “Also, the White Queen seems like a real bitch. I’m sort of glad I don’t remember her.”
His humor faded. “The Fae are the least of my concerns. Fiona—”
“Don’t,” I said softly. The truth was there, in his eyes, but I still said, “I don’t want to know.”
“You need to face it, mo spréach,” he said gently. “It is a drastic loss. Face it so we can begin searching for a way to heal you.”
I tensed. “Why bother? Without my power, the Fae will leave me alone. Terrorists will leave me alone. I’ll just be another null.”
I can have a normal life again.
“You’ll be defenseless,” he said.
I shrugged. “I’m still your compagno, so vampires can’t bite me. Do you think Adam would consider warding me against spells?”
Sensing my stubbornness rising, he backed down. “Of course he will.” He clasped my shoulders, gently moving me to arm’s length. “You must be sure. If I take you from the Sidhe now, I don’t know the odds of you ever recovering your power.”
I held his gaze and asked, “Does it matter to you?”
“Not in the least.” His thumb grazed my jaw. “But perhaps you’d like some time to think it over.”
He thought I was in shock, but I wasn’t. Shock, when present, served as a beautiful buffer between me and emotional pain, and no such buffer existed. There was loss—a whole boatload of it—but there was also an emotion I could barely stand to acknowledge. Immense and sweet.
Relief.
“I will support you in whatever decision you make,” Connor said, kissing my brow. “I simply don’t want you to suffer regret.”
I stayed silent, allowing my chaotic emotions to settle. Relief, though, stayed dominant within me. “I don’t need Fae lightning to use my brain,” I said finally. “We need to get back to Los Angeles and find Daphne Banks. And I have some questions for Ethan.”
Connor hugged me tightly. “Very well, my love.”
“Mmm, that has a nice ring to it.”
I felt his lips near my temple, then nothing.
Rebirth is available now as a single title, but will be in Kindle Unlimited in August 2021 as a part of the final series boxset.
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Also by Laura Hall
The Ascension Series
Ascension
Reckoning
Unraveling
Rebirth
Tribulation
Revelation*
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About the Author
Laura Hall is the alter-ego of contemporary romance author, L.M. Halloran. When not writing or reading, the author can be found gardening barefoot or chasing her spirited daughter. Some of her favorite things are puzzles, podcasts, and small dogs that resemble Ewoks.
Home is Portland, Oregon.
[email protected]
authorlaurahall.com