Obsidian Fire

by Angel Lawson

  But what happens next?

  I know what happened in my life. Nothing good. Nothing interesting, either. My parents died. I moved into a group home for my senior year and then on to college. After that I moved here and my entire life changed.

  But none of that—at least prior to moving here--is book-worthy. Maybe I’m really not supposed to finish. I run over a bridge and past a playground with children zipping down a slide. The more I think on it, the more I consider that maybe I shouldn’t be in the graduate program anymore. It was all a ruse to get me up here anyway, wasn’t it? I know Dr. Christensen will be upset—he seems to be the only one not part of a larger plan, even if he is nosy as hell. But, I think, running around a fountain, if my story is finished, it’s finished.

  I get to a more populated area of the park and I spot what I think is a familiar, long braid of hair. In a pair of nearly non-existent running shorts and a tank top that accentuates her well-defined physique, Hildi stretches her calves against a bench.

  Our last fight ended so oddly, with me winning a second time and her handing it well, I decide I’ve got nothing to lose by approaching the Valkyrie. I slow my jog and stop at the bench, taking a minute to catch my breath.

  “Hi,” I say to the woman as she glances up. The lack of surprise means she’d probably already spotted me.

  “Morgan, how are you?” She straightens her laces and then stands. She’s about three feet taller than me.

  “Okay. I’m just trying to clear my head, you know? Make some life decisions on a run.” I laugh, hoping she’ll think it’s a joke and not a pathetic revelation about my life, but again her steel blue eyes give me the impression she knows more about me than I’d like to admit.

  “Exercise is good for the mind and body.” She looks me up and down. “Are you ready for another round in the ring?”

  “Not yet.” I try my best to keep my face straight. So she doesn’t know I’ve been split from the Morrigan. I’m sure I’ve retained my basic fighting skills, but the magic needed in the ring? I suspect those left with the Darkness. I’m definitely not willing to try it in an environment that may get me killed—or reveal to the entire supernatural world that I’m nothing but a mortal.

  “But you’ll be there tonight, right?”

  “Tonight?” Fuck. If Clinton signed me up again I’m going to kick his ass.

  She smiles, finally realizing I’m clueless. “The Raven Guard is the main event, did they not tell you?”

  “No, no they did not.”

  “They’re keeping secrets. One of their gifts, I think.” She sighs and shakes her head as though this isn’t a big surprise. I wonder again how well she knows my Guardians.

  “I’m sure they forgot. Things have been a little hectic around the house lately.”

  “The Raven Guard are the fight’s biggest draw. Watching them is a testimony to the ancient ways of war.” Her whole expression lights up as she speaks. “You should definitely come and witness the spectacle. The whole arena has a different vibe. The pure energy is raw and everyone ascends to a higher level.”

  Ah, that could be the issue. Me versus the raw energy of my guardians? None of us knows what I am anymore—or what I can do. I’m a liability in a magical environment like that. They’d never risk it. Hildi studies me intently.

  “What?” I ask, uncomfortable under her gaze.

  “Come with me tonight. Be my guest. I think you’ll be interested to see this side of the Guard.” I’m tempted, because I would like to see them in action. But what if I lose control? Hildi nudges me further. “We’ll go in the back door. They’ll never know you’re there.”

  A flock of birds flies over head, alighting from a massive tree. They’re smaller than ravens, but still dark-feathered. I watch them take off against the bright blue sky, their wings flapping fast and hard.

  I’m quitting school. Dropping my book. Helping Dylan conquer his fears. It’s a day for change and being afraid of myself or anyone else is stupid. A total waste. I smile at Hildi and say, “I’ll meet you at nine.”

  Chapter Seven

  Damien

  Through the window of my studio I spot my girl walking in the back gate. Her hair is damp with sweat and her cheeks are flushed pink. A wet spot spreads across her chest from sweat. I’m in the middle of a project but I’m drawn to her anyway. I put down my tools, grab a water from the refrigerator, and head out into the sun.

  Her eyes light up when she sees me and a thrill runs through me.

  “Good morning,” she says, shading her eyes from the sun.

  “Hey, babe.” I go in for a quick kiss before I give her the water. I want to taste the salt on her lips.

  “Ugh, I stink,” she says, shying away. I grab her anyway and wait until she finishes a gulp of water.

  “I don’t mind.” She shakes her head but there’s a look of interest in her eyes. An idea springs to mind. “If it would make you feel better you could take a shower—there’s one in the back of the studio.” I run a hand down her sticky back. “I could join you if you want?”

  She presses her forehead into my chest and groans. “I’d love to. I would. But I promised myself that I’d go into my advisor’s office today. I’ve been avoiding him for weeks.”

  “What’s another day?” I skim a finger down her neck and between her breasts, tugging at the edge of her top. I raise my eyebrows, looking for permission, but her jaw is set with determination. I give it one last shot. “I’m not really sure why we can’t do both? Shower then meeting?”

  She laughs. “Nice try, but I know you. We’d get in there and you’d get all soapy and I’d get all soapy and I think we’ve learned that you like to take your time.”

  Damn, this woman knows me well, and the idea of her being soaped up isn’t helping her argument. I sigh and rub my head. “All right, go shower and I’ll give you a ride to your advisor’s office, okay?”

  “Thank you,” she replies, pushing up on her toes to kiss me again. I clench my hands around her waist and fight the urge to toss her in the shower anyway. “I’ll be back down in an hour.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  She pulls away slowly, her fingers lingering in mine. With a tilt of her head she says, “And that shower idea? I’ll keep that in mind, okay?”

  She walks off and I head back into the shop to take a cold shower of my own.

  Chapter Eight

  Morgan

  I don’t release my grip around Damien’s waist until the motorcycle comes to a complete stop. Even then I’m reluctant to let go, as I like the way his body feels against mine and to be honest, I’m not looking forward to speaking to Christensen. I have a feeling he’s not going to take my announcement well.

  Damien squeezes my hand and then lifts off his helmet and then mine. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m just dreading this meeting.”

  He frowns. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m quitting the program.”

  Okay, what I saw before on his face wasn’t a frown. The expression on his face is an actual frown. “You’re what?” he asks as though he didn’t hear me. He totally heard me.

  “I’m quitting the program. I never should have been in it in the first place. That story wasn’t my creative mind, it was a memory—sort of--and a painful one at that. Now that we’re caught up to the present I’ve got nothing left to tell. My writer’s block is not going away and I realized today that it’s not a block. It’s that the story is finished.”

  Damien is my wild Guardian. Free-spirited and independent. He doesn’t care about rules or feel bound by the same internal struggle as the others. But he touches my chin and holds my eyes with his strange, intense, violet ones and says, “That story is far from complete, Morgan. The day your parents died and we changed to human form is another chapter entirely. The things we did. What we saw. It’s a story for Dylan’s history books.”

  “But it’s not my story. It’s yours. It’s not Maverick’s, my main character. None o
f this makes sense.”

  “Give it time and I think it will become clearer. You’ve been through a lot. Think about when you first got here and how the gates of your memory opened. You received a wealth of detail.”

  The simple fact Damien knows all of this and cares enough to say it rattles me. “I’ll consider it, but even so, I have to go in and talk to him.”

  He nods. “I’ll wait here.”

  I slide off the bike and he grabs me by the jacket, giving me a powerful kiss. The Morrigan may be gone but I still feel a burst of hunger from his touch. Even a mortal can’t help but get a boost from Damien’s raw sexual energy.

  I take a deep breath and walk away, hoping I can figure out my next move.

  *

  The professor makes me wait.

  I suppose I deserve it after forcing him to follow up on me for a month. I sit for twenty minutes in the lobby before the receptionist escorts me back to his office. Even then, he’s not there. I’m instructed to wait a little longer.

  Alone, I glance around the room, realizing I’ve never been alone in here before. The wall behind the desk is covered in certificates and three large, framed diplomas. A bookshelf flanks one wall and photos line the other. Curiosity grabs me and I stand, looking over the pictures. Professor Christensen seems to be quite the world traveler. There are images of him all over the world, mostly at ancient ruins. Egypt, Rome, Greece, among many others. My eyes skim over his desk and land on a file with the name Anita Cross on the edge.

  Anita.

  I’d assumed she’d also left the program after her brother’s death and the bizarre announcement that she’d been part of the plan for the Morrigan all along. Xavier was nothing but a sacrifice to the Goddess of War. But again, all of that was shut down when I split from the Darkness. What would Anita do now?

  As much as I wanted to hate the girl, I still felt guilt for taking her brother’s life—planned or not. I’d let the Darkness win and it will go down as my weakest moment.

  I slip a finger under the edge of the file, desperately wanting to know what’s inside, but I hear voices down the hall, followed by quick footsteps. I step back and move to my seat. My heart races even though I’ve done nothing wrong.

  “Morgan, what a surprise.” Dr. Christensen walks into the room behind me and circles the desk. He lays a stack of papers on top of the file folder and pushes back his chair to sit across from me. “I’m glad you came in.”

  “I apologize for my behavior lately. It’s been incredibly unprofessional.”

  He looks back at me with kind eyes. “I know Xavier’s death hit you hard.”

  “It was a shock, yes.”

  “And then Anita disappearing. I never expected that but you just don’t know what people will do in a period of grief.”

  I sit up in my seat. “Anita did what?”

  “You didn’t know? I thought she must have contacted you. It’s one of the reasons I needed to speak to you so desperately.”

  “No, she didn’t. Why would she?”

  He shrugs. “Professional courtesy? Friendship?”

  “I don’t think we really had much of either of those, sir.”

  I’d like to say he looks surprised at my comment but he doesn’t—more resigned. He shuffles the papers on his desk and I see my incomplete manuscript on the top. I feel a pang of sadness and confusion. Do I quit or is Damien right? Is there more to the story?

  “I regret that this has been an odd start to your program, Morgan. There are always little bumps in the road but this is extreme. I’ve spoken to the board of directors, they’re willing to overlook the critique portion of your assignment for the rest of this semester as long as you continue working in good faith.”

  “No more partners?”

  “No.”

  “To be honest, Dr. Christensen, I was planning on coming here today to leave the program. I’ve been struggling with my writing.”

  “I’m not surprised. The chaotic events of late are not conducive to creativity. But I would be against you quitting entirely.” He picks up my book. “This is stellar work. You have me hooked. This isn’t a book that will go on a shelf for three weeks in a bookstore and then disappear. This is a book that will become a classic and reside on important desks for future generations.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Absolutely. Take your time. Rest your mind and when you’re ready the words will come back.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Positive,” he says without missing a beat. “I have faith in you, Morgan, and you have work to complete. Some events in life are not an option. They’re an obligation. Remember that.”

  The comment is strange but coming off the heels of Damien’s thoughts I feel a little more confident that I can get my writing mojo back. “I’ll do my best,” I say, standing up. “So you haven’t heard from Anita at all?”

  “No. Not since the visitation.”

  Shortly before we performed the separation spell. Maybe she felt it and left. Or maybe her role in all of this is over. Either way, I’m not sad she’s gone.

  Chapter Nine

  Morgan

  After an uneventful dinner, I patiently wait for the men to leave The Nead. They don’t make a fuss about it and if I hadn’t been warned I never would have noticed them slipping down to the garage.

  Davis doesn’t question when I ask him to call me a taxi, but the glint in his eye tells me he’s no fool and already knows where I’m headed. Maybe it’s my casual outfit. Not quite workout clothes, but jeans and a t-shirt.

  “Stay safe, Ms. Morgan.”

  “I will, Davis. Have a good night.”

  Hildi sent me the address and I ask the driver to take me around back. The alley is dark but there are people milling around. I hop out of the car and am happy to find the Valkyrie waiting for me. She’s also dressed in normal clothing—she’s not fighting, either.

  “You made it,” she says, giving me a smile. Somehow we’ve become friends, I think.

  “I snuck out after the guys left.”

  She raises a perfectly sculpted blonde eyebrow. “You’re not allowed to leave?”

  “Oh, no. I can, but they like to keep track of me. You know, guardian stuff, but they still never told me they were coming tonight. I decided I’d surprise them.”

  Her grin widens. “I like it. Sneaky. And they deserve it.”

  The bouncer watching the back door lets us in and we’re immediately engulfed by the massive crowd. It’s way more crowded than the last time I was here. And just like Hildi said at the park, the Raven Guard is definitely a draw. A huge banner hangs over the ring with an image of a black crow, talons extended.

  I can’t stop staring at the banner and Hildi tugs on my arm. “What?”

  “I guess I didn’t realize they were that well known.”

  “The Raven Guard?” she laughs. “They’re legendary. Literally. Legends are written about them.” She winks. “You, too.”

  Of course I know this, I’ve read the lore—the myths—there are books about it back at The Nead, but it’s weird to know that others know about it, too. I squeeze down a row of spectators and sit next to Hildi. When we’re settled I ask, “So tell me what you know about them? What makes them so special?”

  “Their sheer power for one thing,” she declares. “You’ll see that tonight. The fights will be epic, I assure you. But beyond that it’s the mystery, I think. It’s well known they were created by the hands of gods, molded to protect the earth from the Darkness that lurks beneath the surface.”

  “You know about the Darkness?” I ask, feeling a little exposed.

  “Everyone in here knows about the Darkness, sweetheart. We know who you are. What those boys are doing for you.” She nods toward a door on the far side of the room. I see a glimpse of Clinton. “You realize every woman and a few men in here have tried to lure them into bed?”

  “I gathered as much last time I was here. Before our fight.”

  There
’s a moment of silence and I sense that Hildi has something else to say. Finally she blurts, “Is it true? That you’ve taken them all for mates? Not just one as intended?”

  “How do you know this?”

  She laughs. “There’s more gossip in the supernatural world than in the human world. News travels fast. Especially when it has to do with the fates.” I must look confused (as well as a little horrified) to learn that everyone in here knows about me and the Guardians so she says, “There are decisions in our world that can affect everyone. When the Morrigan chooses five mates instead of one, people notice.”

  “I’m not the Morrigan anymore, everyone knows that too, right?”

  She watches me closely but says nothing. The lights flicker overhead and the loud buzzer sounds, signaling the beginning of the events. Hildi leans in close and says, “Another time you’ll tell me how they are in bed. I assume they’re legendary in that respect as well.”

  “Uh, okay,” I say, wondering what she would think about me not having sex with two of the Guardians yet. I suspect that news would travel faster than a bolt of lightning.

  The shaman/referee strides across the ring carrying a microphone. His voice is deep with a slight accent when he begins to speak. “Welcome to our main event! The night you’ve all been waiting for! The return of the Raven Guard!”

  The crowd jumps to their feet, cheering and shouting for my Guardians. A light flashes over the audience and that’s when I see many are holding up signs—each declaring support for one of the men.

  I lean into Hildi, “So when you said this was a big deal, you meant it was a big deal.”

  “Oh yeah. These guys are so quiet and elusive that when they finally come out of that hidey-hole you’ve got, the community loses their minds.”