Ascension (Facets of Feyrie Book 2)

by Zoe Parker

  I slip silently down beside her and slide towards her, sitting close enough to feel her body heat. All the chaotic emotions rolling around in me calm at this small contact with her.

  “You are keeping me out,” I say aloud.

  She tosses a pebble into the water, causing small ripples. “When you’re in my head with me, it’s hard to work things out for myself. This is something I need to work out alone.” She sighs.

  “Do you want to talk the old-fashioned way, then?” I ask.

  The paranoia is not the only reason. I will admit if only to myself, I miss the intimate contact of her mind when she kicks me out. I have gotten used to it and to be cut off from it… bothers me. But I am not quite ready to admit this by demanding the return of it.

  Instead, I go to work, once again, on her shields.

  “You mean out loud?” She gives a small humorless laugh then nods. “It boils down to one thing, Phobe. I feel bad for how these people have suffered. Like those children.” She looks over at me and the lost look in her beautiful eyes pulls on strings I did not know existed until her.

  “It is not your fault they endured such things.” Nor her fault she did as well.

  “When I look at them, I see myself.” She tosses another pebble in the water. “Can I do this?” Her voice is small, quiet.

  She leans her head on my shoulder, and after a moment of being unsure what to do, I lean my head against hers. The smell of her herbal shampoo fills my nose as her hair stirs beneath my face, tickling my cheek.

  “You are already doing it,” I say, kissing her head. Allowing myself this—emotional moment with her.

  She slides her other arm through mine, hugging it to her. She is hugging it so tight that I can feel her heartbeat beating like a small drum against my arm. She is more upset than she is admitting.

  She has been through much, Iza. If she were human, I am not sure she would still be alive. Humans are such fragile things. Iza is not fragile, most of the time.

  “This isn’t the last like him. Feyrie or not they’ll be treated the same as Montgomery was.”

  I nod at her words. Men like Montgomery destroy others. Something I am familiar with—I destroy lives too. Before I met Iza, destruction was the only thing I was capable of.

  I am learning to do more. Slowly.

  “It is how things have to be.” She nods against my arm.

  She looks at these Feyrie with her soul. She does not judge them unfairly.

  “He was an evil asshole, even by our terms. He violated children… imprisoned them for power they didn’t have. I’d kill him again if I could.” Her voice is so quiet, it is barely more than a whisper.

  After a thoughtful, silent moment, she sighs and relaxes against me. It does not indicate that whatever is bothering her is gone. It simply means she has a new way to look at. Iza has peculiar perspectives on things, but she has a very analytical mind.

  It took me time to see that. It will take others even longer.

  “There aren’t many Feyrie children. Do you know why?” she asks.

  I opt to tell her the partial truth. With the Dark Magiks fading, the Feyrie started losing their ability to have many children.”

  In fact, children are so rare that most are teenagers or older. The gorgon children are the youngest true blood Feyrie I have seen in many years.

  “But the gorgons?”

  “They are an exception. It is not well known, but they can share Magiks with family members to have enough to make children. Or sacrifice themselves to give their sisters children.”

  Which the aunts of the three gorgon children did. It is why the mother was the last one in the group, and why the small family was so vulnerable. Had her sisters lived, those children would not be here. Not in the way they arrived.

  Iza’s shields drop a little, allowing me to peek into her mind. Her thoughts whiz through her head, a twisted mess of past and present, possibilities to come. I admire the chaos that is her mind.

  Carefully, I peel back another layer, exposing more of her thoughts.

  How did she ever believe she had human in her? There is nothing human about her thought processes. Parts of it are comprised of simpler thoughts—food, clothing, and home. But the rest of it is as complex as anyone I have encountered, and downright intriguing at times.

  Her information processing abilities are odd, perhaps, but effective. She weighs each possibility and works them out in every direction. Iza sees their reactions and behavior from a place of experience and sometimes pure imagination. And responds to it. But she is not infallible.

  Just a clever, clever woman.

  “So, if the Magiks grow stronger, they can have children again?”

  “Yes. Already it is strengthening them. Before you know it, there will be babies everywhere for you to coddle,” I assure her.

  It is the truth, and there is no reason to not share it with her.

  Children are a soft spot for her. Iza is fully aware she cannot have children of her own, which makes all children more precious to her. Something she does not know that I know about her.

  This I discovered while she slept. I do not have any qualms about eavesdropping in her mind while she is vulnerable.

  “It’s very strange, caring about people and having people care about me,” she muses.

  I read the thoughts that prompt that comment. She is not used to having the closeness and support of family or even friends. In between the age of eight and now, there has been no one to care.

  Except me. That surprises me a little.

  “You have gotten their loyalty and respect simply by being yourself. Continue to do this, Iza, and you will be successful.”

  She turns her face to look at me. “We will, Phobe,” she corrects.

  A small part of me likes that correction.

  “You do not mind the stains on my soul, Iza?” I surprise myself by asking.

  She smiles her sharp smile, her eyes soft and full of something I cannot define. Something that makes my heart beat faster in my chest.

  “You don’t mind the scars on mine?” she asks, then kisses my chin.

  This kissing thing is still new to me. My memories say it is an expression of affection that’s not sexual.

  I like it.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Iza

  When I wake up in the back of a truck, I’m only a little surprised. I fell asleep against his shoulder on the dock. And I’m assuming he put me to bed like a little kid. Right now, I’m toasty and comfortable and not in a hurry to get up. Around me, I can hear the murmur of voices and muted laughter. The clearing flickers with the lights of fires and lanterns.

  I vaguely remember a warm body behind me, but he’s no longer there. If he was to begin with.

  “He went on patrol, my lady.” Auryn’s quiet voice precedes her poking her head over the side of the truck.

  “You’re not a mind reader too, are you? Because I’ve got enough of those in my life.”

  “No, no. I merely heard you stirring.”

  Thank god. Another freaking mind reader might put me in a bad mood. Running a hand down my face, I sit up. It feels like I haven’t slept for days, which isn’t completely wrong. But I did just wake up from a nap.

  “Do you need anything?” Auryn asks, sitting on the tailgate at my feet. I stare at her, frowning. “Like a drink or some food?”

  Oh.

  “Sure. But I can—” I start to say, but Adriem steps out of the shadows and nods to his mother. He is gone before I can call him back. Well, I guess that means I can sit here in this nest for a little while longer.

  Auryn stays quiet while I eat the barbeque Adriem brings me. She’s watching me with a small smile playing about her mouth. I’m curious about it but not enough to ask.

  Finally full, I sit the plate aside, chug a cold soda and lean back against the back of the truck bed and stare right back at her.

  “I have served rulers before but never in all of my years have I met someo
ne quite like you.” I remain quiet while she speaks. “Phobe said that you do not wish for all the formality. We have agreed to be more relaxed around you.”

  Well, thank you, Phobe.

  “Yeah, this ‘my lady’ shit freaks me out. So, tell me about you, Auryn. I know all the folklore, but I want to know the real story.”

  “When I was a girl, I worked for the King as a milk-maid.”

  “Milk-maid? That was an actual thing?” I can’t help but ask. I mean, seriously, milk-maid?

  “Yes, it was. My job was to milk the cows twice a day and deliver the milk to the castle. But one day, the king saw me and being noticed by the him was never good.”

  I tucked my feet further into the blanket. I love a good story.

  “My father wanted sons but had all girls. Still, he made sure to teach us how to use a sword…”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Phobe

  A while ago, the children crawled up in the truck with her, and now Iza is reading a bedtime story to them. Knox and Cadey are both currently asleep with their heads on her lap.

  The older ones, including Ruthie and Michael, are looking at Iza in rapt attention. She is reading them their history, and they have not realized it yet because she is making it so entertaining.

  Clever. And not something I imagined her doing.

  My eyes linger a moment longer and then move to the other man watching from the shadows. Adriem. His green eyes are only on one person, Iza.

  My stomach tenses but I fight the emotion. I know it for what it is now— jealousy. It is not something I enjoy feeling, nor is it something I will let myself continue to feel.

  My shadows brush against him, there is no reason for jealousy.

  I understand my place in things. And he understands his.

  Knowing she is safe, especially guarded by the Nightmares, I turn away and head towards the human town. My skin tingles as the glamour coats me.

  I am wearing an unrecognizable face. After putting some thought into it, I opted for one that no one has seen: a child, or at least a form that looks like a child. He was male, black hair, blue eyes. He looked Michael’s age. Now I do too.

  He was a lange, a shapeshifter of sorts. They favor inanimate objects like trees and shrubs that they entangle their victims with, feeding on their essences. They do not age past puberty. The body of this one was over a thousand years old when I ate him.

  So long ago.

  Choosing to walk, instead of taking on a form I can move more quickly with, I find myself enjoying the night. I cannot recall the last time I did so. For a few moments I admire the brightness of the moon in the sky, the stars twinkling brightly in the background and the smell of the the crisp night air.

  Soon this place will be blanketed in white when the snow that I can smell in the air finally reaches here. A month at the most. Iza’s children will like the snow. Some of them have not seen it before.

  I am not sure how she will feel about snow. She takes wonder in the strangest things, though. I know she is looking forward to the human holidays.

  Humans have many holidays, some of which make no sense—or are based off obscure gods who never existed to begin with. Although they did get one thing right.

  There is a god here. A creator. There were three at the beginning of all. The creator is one of them. Iza calls him the All-Father.

  Ahead of me a human steps out of the shadows.

  “Kid, are you lost?”

  The smell of gun oil is carried on the breeze towards me. His clothes are too clean, in too good of condition to belong to the dredge he is trying to portray.

  This is one of the humans that are watching Iza.

  “My friends kicked me out of their car up the road,” I say in a voice much younger than my own. I take on the mannerisms of the form.

  My Forlorn prowl the shadows around him, looking for others, but this man is alone.

  “Anything I can help you with?”

  My shadows brush him, and I say, “Oh, yes sir. Do you have a phone I can borrow?”

  “I don’t, but why don’t you come on over here and get warm. I have some hot chocolate.”

  The man thinks I am vulnerable. He knows I came from the Sidhe. He does not know what it is. He and his superiors do know that it is not humans that reside there.

  Kael has been telling tales.

  The human plans to lure me further into the shadows and incapacitate me, a trick that has worked for him before.

  “It is pretty cold.” I feign snuggling down into the light jacket I am wearing and follow behind him. I do not miss his sly smile either.

  “I might have something to eat, too. Let’s have a look.” He waves me past him.

  Oh, he has something I can eat. Him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Iza

  I stare up into the night sky. The stars are bright, shining like gemstones on the pitch-black backdrop. The moon is a beacon to my gaze and is already half-full. I shiver, but not from the cold. The cold isn’t what’s bothering me.

  What does bother me is the emotion-filled bubble—full of all the junk I keep locked up inside—rising quickly to the surface. I wondered when it would happen. I expected it sooner. I hate it regardless.

  The Sidhe made this tower room for me on a whim. It looks just like one out of storybook. The ledge I’m perched on is the perfect size for me to sit on—another tweak by the Sidhe.

  I move a little closer to the corner of the stone ledge and brace myself for emotional impact. It hits me with the force of a tsunami. I close my eyes as wave after wave of grief, fear, sadness, and pain tear at that one soft spot left in my heart.

  This shit sucks.

  “Foolish clutter in your brain, Dove.” My father’s voice pulls me from my emotional self-punishment.

  I turn to look towards him, blinking rapidly to clear my blurry vision. Seeing him in living color, I hurry and wipe my face.

  He surprises me by crawling in the small cubby hole on the ledge with me. He puts his crossed legs underneath mine and rubs my knees to comfort me.

  “I still don’t see the flaw in my thinking process, foolish or not,” I finally say.

  A handkerchief appears in front of me, and I use it to wipe my face and blow my nose.

  “You’re not a human, Iza, so stop punishing yourself like one. This war is something you can fight, but only as the creature you are.” As he talks, he rubs my legs until all the tears stop. “You’ve seen things in your life so dark and awful that—” He takes a deep breath. “Use that rage inside of you, Dove. Let it free.” Exhaling, his voice more gentle he says, “You’re doing better than you think you are.”

  “It’s very hard to go from who I was to who I am, to who I’ll become—whatever that will be.”

  Truthfully, I’m afraid of losing who I am now.

  “Silly girl, you’re blooming. I bet you’ve laughed and smiled more since you met Phobe and those kids than you have in the last 21 years combined.”

  I nod, it’s the truth. “Don’t forget you too, Dad.”

  His smile flashes big and bright, and then he continues. “You can’t change the events unfolding in your life. You can only shape them.”

  It’s not your typical father-daughter speech, but the father and daughter aren’t exactly typical either.

  I sigh.

  “It’s going to get worse before it gets better. I won’t demean you and what you’re doing by telling you otherwise. But your enemy? They can only be defeated by someone who can meet them equally. You’re that someone. Don’t ever think you’re not.”

  I lean forward and hug my father.

  “Thanks, Dad.” I feel him smile against my cheek. With one of my own I say, “So about your girlfriend situation.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Iza

  A few days later, the mood in the Sidhe is lighter. The children are running around, causing a ruckus everywhere. Ruthie is on their shirttails, a smile on her face. The gorgons ha
ve practically transformed overnight. Amazing what good food and safety can do for a child’s disposition.

  Nika and Jameson also spent hours healing their injuries. Some were from abuse and some from malnutrition. Good food will fix the latter. The soft growth of hair that has appeared on Lissa’s head is nice to see, especially when its moving around.

  Now that is fantastic.

  Standing at the entrance to the dining room, with an oddly shy Knox hanging at my side, I watch Cadey giggle as he tries to hide behind a tapestry from my Dad, who’s pretending like he can’t see the little taloned feet sticking out at the bottom.

  “Where did Cadey go? Anyone see him?” Dad calls, winking at me as he passes.

  Lissa and Louise come to stand on either side of Knox, who blushes adorably, and even the solemn Lissa is laughing at her brother’s antics.

  “What do you guys want for breakfast? I’m starving.” I pat my stomach and, taking a page out of my Dad’s book, wink at Lissa, who dares to wink back.

  I laugh, unable to help myself. She’s going to be a force to reckon with when she’s grown. Probably before.

  “Bacon,” Cadey exclaims running straight for me from his hiding place.

  I stare at him a moment, finding it weird he said bacon, all things considering. Intelligence is a bright sparkle in the blue depths of his eyes. I raise an eyebrow at him. He puts his arms out to be picked up, and I snatch him up, spinning him around.

  “Bacon it is. Let us ask the goblins if they can make us some.” I walk into the dining room and greet people as we pass by their tables.

  “Good morn, my lady. How is your day so far?” Jameson asks coming to stand just to the side. I wish he, at least, would stop the ‘my lady’ shit.

  “Cadey wants bacon.”

  He turns to study the children, who solemnly study him back. “Look there. An entire plateful just appeared at your table,” he says, pointing at the steaming platter of perfectly crisp bacon.