Ascension (Facets of Feyrie Book 2)

by Zoe Parker

  He leans close to me, his face a breath from mine. Butterflies go crazy in my stomach. Just like that all my anger and irritation banks itself, placed on the back burner by the straight lust that takes its place.

  It’s not fair that he can make me feel like this so easily.

  His eyes flare, and he closes that small space between us. His lips are cool and soft when they meet mine. Instantly, I feel like I’m on fire. His tongue dips into my mouth and then it’s over, barely a meeting of lips. Part of me is disappointed it’s over, if the thumping of my heart is any indication. It’s not even that it was a passionate kiss; it’s that there was a lot of passion in it.

  I open my eyes and smile sheepishly. “I hate you,” I tease, mostly.

  ‘You taste good.’ His voice is more than just a voice in my mind. It’s a caress to my soul, more intimate than any touch. Did I really just think that shit? Gah, this gooshie romance shit is going to kill me.

  Phobe chokes on his marshmallow.

  My amusement fades when I smell them, feel them. Ancient Magiks. Almost like family.

  “They’re here,” I mumble under my breath. Nothing wrong with trying to bolster myself.

  I go to the edge of the forest, knowing Phobe’s behind me. An older woman, her long orange hair streaked with gray, walks out of the trees, head held high, her shoulders straight and proud.

  Quickly, I process my scattered knowledge.

  Auryn is the first Nightmare, supposedly created by an obscure god, enslaved by the first mortal dark king. I cast a gaze over my shoulder and then back to her. It’s her true shape that’s tattooed on my back.

  But she shouldn’t be an older woman.

  She smiles at me, and it takes my breath away. Why is an immortal creature like her aged? Frowning, I look at her life thread carefully: no disease, no bad Magiks.

  Wait. There is something.

  “We have come to pay tribute to our long-awaited Heart of Darkness,” Auryn states in a strong voice.

  More Nightmares come out of the trees to stand in a half circle behind her.

  “There is no need for that. I should give you tribute for coming,” I say just as formally.

  “I am honored you think that, my lady. But this is something destined to be yours,” Auryn says, waving forward a rather good-looking brown-haired man holding a burlap-wrapped bundle in his hands.

  He passes it to Auryn and then bows at the waist, first to me and then to her, before stepping back. Studying each one of their faces, I frown. Each one of them has the same look, respect. How can these fierce creatures of renown respect me in any way when they’ve never met me before?

  It’s something I’ll ask later, that’s for sure.

  Snapping myself back to the moment at hand, I unwrap the package. It’s a weapon, a sword to be exact. The blade is the bleached white of manipulated bone, with a super sharp black metal edge. This sword was not crafted by mortal hands.

  The handle is unadorned, save for the blood red gem mounted in it. The handle swirls with the Magiks used to create it, but it’s not overly done or too fancy. This sword is beautiful in its simplicity.

  “This was made from a bone of my husband. Magiks shaped it into what it is now, and I have kept it safe, waiting for your arrival.”

  This time I bow my head to her. Immediately, I access the Web again. That’s what’s missing! Licar, her mate. His life thread is still there, though, but faint. Curious, I caress the blade, and something in it caresses me back. Taken aback I do it again.

  Something’s in this sword.

  “I am proud to be right. This is meant to be yours,” Auryn’s amused voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

  “Honestly, I’m just learning how to use swords, but Phobe is teaching me. So, in a couple of hundred years, I might have some skill,” I say with a smile of self-mockery.

  Auryn looks at me with glowing red eyes and then laughs. Blackness crawls up my forearm on my right wrist and engulfs the sword. It vanishes as the darkness receded.

  Well, that’s a neat trick.

  “I doubt it will take so much time like that.” Auryn’s eyes bore into me. “You are so much more than I had hoped, my lady.” She crosses her hand over her heart and I jump to catch her before she goes to her knees.

  “You should kneel to no one ever, Auryn,” I say, holding her arm to make sure she doesn’t try to kneel again.

  She pats my hand, her eyes slightly moist, and then bows at the waist. From someone like her, this is a lifetime pledge of loyalty. My gut tells me that much. “You have given me a great honor, my lady. I will never forget it, and neither shall my children.”

  “It is an honor I will always give you, Auryn.” It’s the truth.

  Movement in the woods catches my attention. Something is hiding just out of sight, watching me. My eyes narrow. I can feel him in my Web, but he can almost make his physical presence invisible. Almost.

  Not nearly as good as Phobe, but better than the others.

  Intrigued, I walk towards him with determined steps. I can smell him now. His smell is somewhat like dragons, that deep earthy dirt smell. But it’s different in a way I’m not quite sure of.

  My Magiks move forward to touch his.

  Unlike most of the other Nightmares, his Magiks run deeper. Almost as deep as his mother’s. Perhaps one day even more than hers.

  “Come out,” I urge. If he doesn’t, I’m going in to get him.

  There’s a rustle of branches and leaves as something big moves around, and then a slim, dark-haired man steps into the clearing. He looks at me intently, with reptilian green eyes. As he blinks, his eyelid moves sideways.

  “Why were you hiding?”

  At my question, he moves closer to me. I think he’s used to people running away and is surprised I’m not. “I cannot completely hide like the others. I don’t want to scare you.”

  I snort, letting him see my special eyelids. “I don’t scare easily. What’s your name?” I already know it, but I’m learning that people like to be asked.

  I like him instantly. He’s young looking like most Feyrie are, but he has a sinewy look to him, stronger—older in the way he carries himself.

  He’s firstborn.

  His face is gorgeous. Only a blind person wouldn’t notice. Strongly resembling that aqua man actor in the movies, the mouthwatering one, Jason something. But that isn’t what makes him stand out, although it doesn’t hurt either.

  Those eyes even if you take away the impossible green color, they stand out. His eyes lashes are longer than mine, giving him that dark, brooding look that women fall all over themselves for. Such a good- looking little devil.

  He stops in front of me. I look up, well maybe not so little.

  “I am Adriem.” He smiles as he speaks, exposing one perfect dimple in his left cheek.

  “I’m Iza. Nice to meet you,” I answer, amused despite myself.

  That smile of his is dangerous. Luckily for me, I’m hooked on two dimples, not just one.

  The smell of food overrules any thoughts I consider randomly sharing. Saved by my stomach again. I pat it in appreciation.

  “We are all monsters here, Adriem. Let’s go eat.” I walk back towards the lake and wave for them to follow me.

  There’s a lot to think about and eating usually helps me think quite well. Maybe it’s the chewing that gives me that extra bit of thought processing power. The feeling of everyone staring at me drags me out of my thoughts. I sigh. I bet I’m talking out loud again.

  “What?” I ask all of those around me who are staring with amused expressions. I eye a grill that is full of ribs, not self-conscious, just impatient to eat. “I’m hungry,” I say in explanation of my moment of crazy.

  “That’s the dragon in her,” Alagard says proudly as Auryn regally walks past me to sit at the same table as him.

  Auryn’s brow arches up as she ponders him, but then the facade of cool elegance disappears as a plate of still-bloody beef is placed in front of
her. Her eyes flash red as she dives in.

  Oh, I’m going to like her. A lot.

  Seeking out Ruthie, Michael, and Knox, I plop down next to Knox, who has sauce all over his cheeks. He smiles and hands me a rib.

  We fall into conversation as easily as if it’s been happening every day for years. Alagard and Nika regale me with stories of my parent’s mishaps, and some of my own. This amuses the kids quite a bit.

  Apparently, me setting a courtier on fire is funny.

  My mother was quite the rebel too, and I can see where I get some of my quirks and stubbornness.

  Auryn, quiet at first, starts to share her own stories. And soon her children join in, even the reserved Adriem. It’s the first time since I was a kid that I can remember feeling this sort of contentment. And it takes me a moment to put a name to it.

  Family. This is my family.

  I smile—I can’t help it. This is a marvelous thing to behold.

  Beaming, I look around at all the Feyrie present, happy with my world, with barbeque sauce on my chin. I like this, and I’ll gladly get used to it.

  ‘You are happy?’ Phobe’s tone is questioning.

  ‘I gotta take it when I get it, ya know?’

  ‘They love you, and will follow you anywhere.’

  ‘I think it’s because you scare everyone into submission,’ I tease, partially. There’s no doubt in my mind there’ll be instances where Phobe being scary is exactly what I’ll need.

  Plus, it’s hot.

  ‘It is not me they are afraid of.’’

  I giggle. I can’t help it. I’m fully aware of who the scary one is between the two of us. Besides, I’m not scary at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Iza

  The second they hit Sidhe land, I know. A few minutes later, I look over my shoulder to watch the three vans pull into the driveway between the house and the lake. I figure they’ll approach when they’re ready to approach. So I stay seated and keep eating, and encourage everyone else to do so.

  Maybe they’re hungry and will grab some food?

  “Why are the servants eating at the only tables in this awful place?” The raised voice cuts right through the laughter.

  Frowning, I look up at the speaker.

  Silence falls heavily throughout, and several sets of eyes turn to look at the imp woman standing with her nose in the air like she’s surrounded by smelly garbage. If the woman puts her petite nose any further into the air, she’ll pull a muscle in her neck.

  Crap, it’s another snotty one. Sighing, I let the rib in my hand fall to my paper plate. My Magiks push out and touch the newcomers.

  “Perhaps the Shepherd is away, Jiquelle. Servants are notorious for taking advantage of their betters,” says a rather plump man, stepping up beside her.

  Schoth and lingire seem to have a thing for looking like walking candy. This one is wearing horizontal stripes—bright pink and green ones. I bite my lip to keep from saying one of the many smart-ass remarks floating around in my head. My luck, one comment and they’ll throw a fit about it and give me a headache.

  Like the whole thing with the lingire.

  The Web pulls me inwards. The Dark isn’t connected to either one of them as deeply as it should be. Which is strange, because I sensed them approaching.

  Or perhaps the assumption it’s from these two idiots is wrong.

  ‘The male is Montgomery,’ Phobe supplies in my mind.

  Phobe knows them. This isn’t a good sign.

  A third man steps up beside them looking decidedly uncomfortable. Without hesitation, his eyes go right to me. He’s a little cleverer than his companions. This one I can feel completely—his strand on the Web is bright and shining. The Web’s notes of emotion float through my mind rapidly and I work to decipher them as quickly as possible.

  Ducard’s one of the ones I sense, but somewhere in this group, there’s more. I climb to my feet, and his eyes widen. Apprehension is stamped all over his face. I can feel it, smell it. The imp moves to the side away from his traveling companions, his eyes staying on me.

  “Remove yourselves so we can break our fast, servants,” Montgomery orders the occupants at the table in front of him.

  Oh, the headache is building already. It’s another one talking about servants and shit. This is going to put me straight into a bad mood. Jameson shoves a napkin in my hand, and I take the hint and wipe off my face and hands while watching Montgomery with curiosity.

  No one at the table moves, which isn’t surprising. No one knows who the hell he is.

  Montgomery’s face reddens with anger. “Guards, remove them.”

  At his words, I step in between him and the table.

  These imps aren’t deeply connected to the Web either. When your service is bought and paid for, your only loyalty is money. I’m seeing a trend with some of these people. One I don’t like.

  A, they’re mostly cowards hiding behind guards. B, somehow, they have money in a world full of poverty to afford said guards.

  Yep, there goes my good mood.

  A dozen men walk towards us, their intentions expressed clearly on their faces. These guys don’t look like they’re going to say, ‘pass the ketchup.’ They’re going to try and physically remove my family—yes, my family—from their tables.

  Phobe vanishes from my side and reappears in the center of the group. Immediately, two men fall onto the ground. They won’t be getting up. I wonder what’s was on their minds for him to kill them that quickly? I raise a brow at him.

  He just looks at me. That bad, huh?

  The rest turn towards him, weapons drawn. Well, look there—they have guns. I cross my arms. They’re still not going to last long, guns or not. As I walk towards him, two more fall just as quickly as the first ones. Approaching the group, I pause only long enough to toe one of the fallen men.

  Oh yeah, dead as a doornail.

  ‘Don’t let them shoot. I don’t want them to hit someone with a stray bullet,’ I ask.

  He doesn’t answer, again.

  Walking around the men left alive, I ignore their presence entirely. Life is now a temporary state for them. My attention is completely focused on the imp I can feel.

  Ducard La Rounte, whose father was a member of the inner council before the Dark Kingdom fell. His father was executed for his loyalty to the Crown, for refusing to abandon or betray his King.

  Very honorable, and in this case, the son did not fall far from the tree.

  As I near him, something else tickles my Magikal senses. My eyes move past him to the middle van. It’s more beat up than the others, but there’s this big blank spot where it sits. One that shouldn’t be there. My Magiks feel around it with caution, and to my irritation find that it’s saturated in Light Magiks.

  Now, why are a bunch of Imps traveling with a van saturated with Light Magiks?

  “What’s in the van?” I ask quietly, knowing in my gut it’s going to be something bad.

  Ducard is the only one of three standing in front of me that knows who I am. He alone knows what I can do to him if he lies, or at least has an idea. He straightens his shoulders, showing he does have some pride and then bows his head respectfully.

  “I am not sure, my lady. I am not allowed near it.”

  I stare hard at him, looking deeper than his skin.

  “Whatever it is, he sends food and water to it, occasionally.” He speaks the truth. I’d know a lie from him a mile away.

  So, the contents of the van are alive.

  Looking at him just long enough to make him uncomfortable, I walk past him, heading for the van. I can’t see through the Magiks hiding whatever is in it. Those are strong spells for a something so innocuous -looking. The best money can buy, I’m sure.

  Dark Magiks do not affect me. In fact, I null them out, which isn’t normal, by any means. I also discovered, by trial and error, that I can absorb some Light Magiks—change them, but at a cost. It hurts like a sonofabitch and too much will probably kil
l me.

  This much Light Magiks at once—yeah, I’ll need some aspirin after this mess. If I can get through it. Big if.

  Putting my hand out in front of me, inches from the van, I concentrate on the invisible shield that covers every inch of it. A flare of pain races through my entire arm when I connect with it. Gritting my teeth, I pull the Magiks into myself. The backlash is more painful than I expected.

  Within a few minutes, I’m sweating a bit but feeling good enough to keep going. I need to keep going; something inside of it is calling to me. I’m on my knees by the time I reach the last bit of barrier. Pain wrenches my stomach so hard that I can taste vomit in the back of my throat.

  There’s a loud pop, and with the sudden relief of pressure, I’m through.

  The pain is awful, but the protective shield is gone.

  Climbing stiffly to my feet, I pull the side door open, staring into the dimly lit van. Instantly, I notice that the seats are missing, and in their place sits three small beings.

  Three bedraggled heads lift to look at me, their eyes lighting with recognition. Bright blue eyes, unnaturally bright, in small bruised dirty faces—two girls and one boy. The oldest one not a day over twelve. Hell, they’re children. I crawl into the van, uncaring of the mess and filth around them.

  Their little faces are gaunt from hunger. Tiny bodies bruised and cut from repeated beatings. What’s left of their clothes are torn and stained with god knows what. In them, I see the child I was, and it absolutely infuriates me.

  Why is it always the children that suffer so much in our world?

  Pushing the anger off my face I replace it with the gentlest look I can manage. I have very few soft spots and children are the top one.

  Dirty bastard abused them… in many ways. The evidence is on their little bodies and in the ghosts now haunting their eyes. I clench my jaw harder.

  I’m going to kill someone.

  “Hello there, lovelies. I’m Iza and if you give me just a few minutes—I’ll get these chains off you, okay?”

  They nod solemnly at my words.

  I focus on the chains holding them, but the pain forces a hiss from between my teeth. A clawed hand moves past me and grabs the chains, which simply dissolve at his touch.