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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Griffyn Ink
1409 Rivermont Cir N.
Gallatin, TN 37066
www.griffynink.com
Copyright ©2012 A.J. Scudiere All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Distributed by Emerald Book Company
For ordering information or special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Emerald Book Company at PO Box 91869, Austin, TX 78709, 512.891.6100.
Design and composition by Greenleaf Book Group LLC and Alex Head
Cover illustration by Ruke (www.RukeStudios.com)
Cover design by Greenleaf Book Group LLC
Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9799510-7-7
Ebook Edition
This one is for my Dad, who taught me about the things I can’t see
and the importance of paying attention to them.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Special thanks go out to everyone who helped make this book a reality.
As always, huge amounts of gratitude go to Eli, Matt and Guy (and also James) who make all this possible.
I have always believed in "Ask and so shall ye receive". I studied Latin for this book and realized that I wouldn’t get as far as I needed. I asked around to see if anyone could help. And Beau Henson spoke up. His fluent Latin gave Zachary and Allistair a voice from the other side. He spent hours translating and answering my questions about subtext and nuance. Just like everything else in this book, there’s more than the simple translation in the Latin … I cannot thank you enough, Beau.
Thank you to Rosie Daniel and Andrea Hebert who did beta-readings for me … your red pens are forever appreciated.
JKSCommunications also deserves a shout-out here. They have had my back and are simply a fantastic team to work with.
Daniel Ruke and his considerable talent are responsible for the amazing cover art. You may have seen "Ruke" work on other AJ Scudiere pieces … Check out the Resonance Fan Pack on the Website. Thank yous to Dan for all that and more.
Of course, thank you to all the fans who kept this going and who already have their eyes out for Phoenix!
LET US SEVER THE TIES THAT BIND THE SKY TO THE EARTH.
TEAR ASUNDER THIS GORGEOUS OF CLOUD AND BLUE.
AND HIDE AWAY THE JAGGED PIECES
IN THE SCATTERED CAVERNS OF OUR SOULS.
WE LIFT OUR FACES UP TO THE TRUTH,
AS THOUGH IT IS SOMETHING WE HONESTLY DESIRE TO SEE.
WITH FINE NEEDLES WE SEW TOGETHER THE FABRICS OF OUR FATE
PINS
CHAPTER 1
He pushed his way through the synapse between the spaces. It required more energy than he possessed. It always did. Still, he always made it. For now, he paused and inhaled the searing air deeply into new lungs, holding it in despite the pain. His teeth clenched and his hands grabbed for the edges even though they offered no purchase as he forced his way farther through.
He stopped again to rest and wait … and feel. A small breeze from somewhere brushed his fingers. It didn’t matter where it came from, only that it touched him, and that the sensation produced euphoria. All sensations did. Taking another gulp of air, he exulted at how the fumes trailed into his lungs and produced a raw, not unpleasant scream in his tissues. He pushed farther through the tear in reality he had fought so hard to create. It would last only as long as he needed it to; the fissure would seal itself behind him as he fell the last part of the way. But he wasn’t there yet, wasn’t finished yet.
He inhaled again, taking in the acrid scent of his own burned flesh. He always forgot just how painful it was. The edges sparked tiny friction fires as he forced his way. Tracers of smoke and greasy lines of soot marked his passage as he clawed his way into the abandoned subway station from somewhere most humans only imagined existed.
Zachary paid no attention to the evidence of his passing. He was too busy watching the changes in himself, and besides, he’d done this so many times before. He knew about the black ash that would drift down and pile up where he came through, just as he knew that there was nothing he could do about it anyway.
As he altered, his eyes watched the human skin of his arms knitting into a smooth, pale color that made him smile despite the pain. The color showed just how far he had come. When he reached up and pulled a short lock of his hair forward for inspection, it too was light–a translucent honey color that went with the skin and the mind-altering agony. He would bet on his eyes being blue or green, without the depth of blacker tones. He took immense pride in having earned the pale features he would display on this visit.
With effort, he turned his newly minted brain back to the task at hand and gave the final shove, birthing himself into the human plane. He looked for all the world like he was of it. Appearances were often not just deceiving; sometimes they were downright dishonest. He wondered what his boss would think of the thoughts in his head. He wondered if they were up to snuff. Then Zachary pushed that thought aside, too. His deeds would be what he was measured by.
• • •
Katharine didn’t have a cat. Though the sleek, black creature she chased looked and acted like one, she wasn’t sure it actually was a cat. Because of this, she doubted her own sanity as she chased after it into her bathroom.
The padding of her bare feet was ghastly compared to the ethereal cat. Shouldn’t it have made some sort of sound in the silence of the night? Since that realization only added to Katharine’s disturbing conclusions, she chose to ignore it. She also refused to question why she was running after a creature that she wanted to believe wasn’t real. Without thought, her body followed.
Her long bare legs halted, toes digging into the plush carpeting as she came through the open doorway. Katharine caught a glimpse of the flick of a midnight tail as the creature slipped behind the toilet.
Her breathing stopped, her nose crinkled against the smell she did not want to identify as familiar. But her brain, usually so adept at pushing aside what she disliked, was hard-pressed to deny the odor.
Ash.
Cautiously now, she stalked her way around the toilet. It was the latest in plumbing innovations, a sleek, low-volume-flush model that sat directly against the wall. There was no place for the cat to duck out when she stepped around, no opening behind the bowl to dart through. She should have had the cat trapped–but knew she didn’t. The smell told her what she’d see when she peered around to check the once-pristine carpeting on the concealed side of the toilet.
Still, Katharine stepped across the expanse. Blinking slowly, she forced in a full breath to fortify herself, then immediately wished she hadn’t. The remnants of fire burned her lungs, but she pushed on.
As she had suspected–known–there was no cat. Katharine would have been grateful to chalk the experience up to a bad dream. But dreams ended when the dreamer woke. That was when hers had begun.
The small cat had been sweet, rubbing his unbelievably soft head against her hand, demanding the petting that was surely a cat’s due. Katharine had obliged. Half-asleep, her fingers had stroked silky ears and s
pine, all of it overwhelmingly real, even after she had woken fully to the knowledge that she had no cat, that she had closed and locked all the doors and windows because she had feared something like this might happen. She had convinced herself that it had been her fault the last time it had happened. Her fault meant her fix, so she had sealed the condo before bed.
Tonight, when her brain had recognized the cat, she bolted upright, her nose already detecting the faint scent of fire that accompanied her visitors. Her lungs had gasped for air; she had known something was wrong. It was her movement as she awoke that had startled the cat into its mad flight.
Katharine blinked now. Her eyes might be deceiving her, but she had begun to doubt even her doubt.
Slashed across the bathroom carpet in the corner behind the toilet was a dark stain of soot. It was about a foot long, lighter at the end of the streak closer to her and thick enough near the wall that there was actually a tiny pile of burnt ash.
She didn’t want to touch it, but some part of her was compelled to. For a while, she had believed she was hallucinating all of it, until her maid had asked what created the black messes. Katharine didn’t know, but the maid’s question told her that she wasn’t the only one who saw it. The soot was on the deep, pale carpeting, not in her brain.
That was more disturbing than the thought that she was going crazy. If the things she had seen were real, then she was playing a game in which she had no idea of the rules or the stakes. Real meant that the cat had not been within the confines of her definitions. That she could pet and stroke the cat meant it wasn’t merely a ghost, an idea she was pretty certain she could find a way to deal with. No, this was worse.
From what she had seen before, and from the way she had cornered the cat behind the toilet tonight, she had to believe that the creatures could pass through walls and floors. That would mean the large black dog of two weeks ago had passed through her closet into her living room, then somehow escaped from there. But she hadn’t found him in her living room, or in the common hallway. Nor had any of her neighbors complained. There had been just enough time between the last visit and this one to make her believe maybe it had simply ended. Clearly it hadn’t–the black ash on her floor now said otherwise.
If her previous theory was correct, this cat had dropped through the bathroom floor into the unit below. The soot was the remnant left as the beings passed through physical matter–the carpet or wall or barrier remained unchanged once the mark was washed away. But she didn’t believe the dog had passed into the neighbors’ unit, and she was certain the cat hadn’t dropped to the condo one floor down, which meant that she didn’t know where they had gone. Katharine didn’t want to know. Taking a deep breath, she let the smell be a reminder that she was no longer allowed the luxury of ignorance. Her only recourse was to learn what she could. So she knelt down and stuck her finger into the soot.
• • •
As she opened the door to her office, Katharine winced at the stab of pain and made a note to keep her finger from touching anything. Mostly it was an easy lesson–when she forgot and touched something, the pain served as a strong punishment even through the thick bandage.
It was also a constant reminder of what she had seen the night before.
Turning her thoughts back to the task at hand, Katharine slid behind her desk again, gingerly setting down the stack of files she had pulled from the library. Not much remained on paper at Light & Geryon. The library had been a constantly expanding force in her younger days, but the firm’s computerized programs had slowly edged out the old paper filing systems. Still, her research required that she check all angles and see what had been invested in before, so she pulled paper and electronic files alike, wondering when her duties would change again.
She didn’t have long to wait. The change came that very afternoon as she was wincing again at the pain in her finger. Katharine knew she must have bumped it to make it flare up, but she was just as certain that she hadn’t hit it at all. The knock at the door distracted her and she stood as two people entered; she met her new trainee with her left hand grasping her right wrist, her bandaged finger held high, and her face scrunched in an expression her mother would frown upon even from heaven.
“Miss Geryon.” The voice was crisp and modulated and the expression, much like Katharine’s, was held steady, but Lisa Breu was clearly agitated. “Mr. Light has decided that you need an additional assistant. This is Mr. West.”
Katharine rushed to assure her young associate that it was no failing of her own that brought about the second assistant. Though she couldn’t be entirely sure that was the case, she didn’t think Lisa was getting pushed out or passed over; her own position at Light & Geryon was held by the strong but slim thread of her lineage. She reminded herself to reassure Lisa before the day was out that neither one of them was at fault for this maneuver. “Thank you,”
Pushing Lisa to the back of her mind, she shifted her focus to the young man standing before her. He was of indeterminate age, but everything else about his looks was more easily definable: he was dark in every way. Katharine stuck out her hand and braced for the pain. “Mr. West.”
“Allistair, please.” He grasped her fingers firmly and etiquette demanded equal pressure.
The sting did not come. Somehow, Allistair managed the solid clasp without triggering the sensitive nerve endings in her finger. Katharine nodded, too impressed by the lack of pain to add that he should call her Katharine.
She spent the rest of her morning showing him around the building and ignoring Lisa’s pointed looks each time they passed in and out of the office. Lisa sat at the desk situated just outside Katharine’s door, but Mr. West was to have a desk in her office, an arrangement Lisa clearly considered an omen of her own replacement.
Katharine thought no such thing. While her office certainly had space enough for a second desk, the situation was demeaning. The first time Mr. West had excused himself for a moment she had called her father, demanding explanations. In hushed whispers, she argued with the man who held all the strings to her life. In his standard overpowering and dismissive way, he replied that training other, newer employees was merely the next step for her.
The next step in what? Katharine remained forever unaware.
As the last Geryon, she was supposed to take her father’s place at the helm along with whomever the Light position was granted to. After her mother’s death, though, it became more apparent that Arthur Geryon would not retire; he would have to die before he let another take his post–even his own daughter. So Katharine had been shuffled from position to position, following some grand scheme that had never been laid out before her.
She reminded herself that the money made the uncertainty far more than bearable, and that the top position should be hers when it was vacated. She was pointedly not thinking of just how it would be vacated when Mr. West returned. With a tight smile, she greeted him and returned to explaining the file system, using his computer to show him how to review old purchases and see the percentages assigned to particular stocks. She walked him through projections and statistical analyses, all the way through to the actual purchase of the chosen shares. The computer balked at the command to finalize the transaction. “We don’t have access to actually put the order through,” she explained. “That has to come from another division–acquisitions. It doesn’t occur in research.”
West nodded yet again, never asking any questions, and Katharine wondered whether he truly absorbed it all or only wanted to look like he did.
She set him free at 6:00 p.m., and then stopped by Lisa’s desk on her way out of the building. Her reception was chilly. Katharine leaned low, bringing her face level to her underling’s, a trick she had learned in one of the management seminars her father forced on some of his employees and always on her. “I did not ask for another assistant in any way, shape, or form. I believe the point is merely for me to train someone, since you seem to need no further training from me.”
Lisa’
s expression did not change; her only acknowledgment was a slight nod as her fingers continued their rapid staccato across her keyboard.
Katharine had expected nothing less. She walked away, her heels clicking along the marble hallway. In her usual practiced movements and sure steps, she made her way down to the parking garage and slid into her BMW. A male employee in a full three-piece suit gave a small nod accompanied by a smile that did not reach his eyes, as he too climbed into his car. She knew what he thought, what they all thought. But, contrary to their belief, she didn’t own the building or the firm. No matter how the security guards might bow before her, she was nothing more than Mr. Geryon’s daughter. Indeed, it seemed to her that little had changed since she was in the pigtails and pinafores her mother had insisted upon.
Yes, the only true difference was that the employees no longer thought she was cute–now they thought she was competition. Which was about as wrong as they could be. She lacked the ambition required to wrest anything away from them, and even if they did try to compete with her, there was no way any of them could prevent her from becoming co-CEO.
As the only child the Geryons would produce, Katharine was both son and daughter–equally schooled in business and deportment. She offered her own tight smile in response to the guard’s as she pulled out and down the ramp. She merely waved at the entrance, never having needed the ID required of other employees.
Making sleek, tight turns in the falling dusk, the car’s dark color mingled with the night. Katharine’s eyes blinked and scanned, paying minimal attention to the road. Her mind wandered, not wanting to worry about what might greet her when she arrived home, but she was unable to keep the thoughts entirely at bay.
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