Ink & Fire_A Havenwood Falls Novella

by R. K. Ryals

  In the night before us, Desi begins to vibrate, the mace quivering violently before transforming into the winged lion I first met in the mountains.

  He kneels before us and drops his head.

  “To home,” Lucas says wearily. He assists me up onto the lion’s back even with his injuries, and when he climbs up behind me, I don’t mind that he leans on me for support.

  “We’re not going to fall, are we?” I do get rattled on occasion, and being on top of a winged lion right before taking off into the sky is more than enough reason to get rattled.

  Lucas chuckles. “He’s a fast and smooth flyer, but I won’t let you fall, Harper.”

  Chapter 14

  It’s funny to me how some stories end with more questions than there are answers. There was a time when that frustrated me. Now, it makes sense.

  My aunt is the queen of strange stories. Most of the audiobooks she suggests I listen to—books I just have to read—are crazy, vivid, and full of more symbolism than answers.

  Listening to them, I developed a love for philosophy. A love for looking at the world in a completely different way than most. Quite possibly, my curse has something to do with that, too.

  Except I’m not sure I was ever truly cursed.

  As soon as we land at my cabin, Desi transforms back into the mace, rolls himself up onto my porch, and settles there.

  Inside, Lucas, who seems a little stronger than he did on the ridge, carefully peels away my shirt. Unsnapping my bra, he runs his hands over my skin. Cool heat flares beneath his touch as he heals me. From my back to my stomach.

  He kisses the side of my neck.

  This time, however, isn’t about me.

  Spinning in his embrace, I push him toward my bathroom. “I’d ask you to have sex with me, so this would be a lot less awkward for you, but we’ve already done that.”

  Lucas’s lips twitch, his gaze stroking my face, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he knows my courage only goes so far. If he speaks, I lose it.

  I unbutton his pants, tugging them down over his hips before gently shoving him toward the beveled glass door. “Into the shower with you.”

  Undressing, I step into the space with him. Water blasts, steam rising, and for the first time in hours, I’m not cold.

  I can’t look at his face because I’m still learning to be more open, to be the kind of person who can meet someone’s gaze without looking away.

  Focusing on his skin instead, I run my hands over his chest, over muscle and sinew and healing wounds he seems not to feel. They heal too fast, the water turning a dark shade of blue with the unnatural soot as it washes down the drain. Lucas is too much of everything. Too strong. Too inhuman. He’s even too much of an angel among angels. Water slips like rain, rivulets forming on his flesh, and I lean forward, my lips replacing my fingers.

  His hand slips into my hair.

  No words.

  Steam, water, skin, and heavy breaths. This is how I will remember not dying. This is how I will remember pain and lust. This is how I will remember the moment when Lucas went from being a stranger to someone I could possibly fall for. If given the time.

  I kiss every wound he has on his skin. I can’t heal him the same way he heals me, so I give him what I can as he heals himself. Comfort. Friendship. Understanding.

  He lifts me in the shower, pressing me against the wall, and even though I start to protest because I know his body is weakened, he fills me.

  My hands slide into his hair, and he kisses me.

  Who needs words when lips say things that are too awkward to say out loud? Who needs anything except sensation and fulfillment?

  I’ve often wondered why books say the world explodes and stars rain down when an orgasm hits. Now, I know. It’s not just the unmistakable pleasure ripping through me that makes stars dance before my eyes. It’s the fact that the world really does feel different.

  We leave the shower, dry off, and fall into bed.

  Together.

  Lucas doesn’t sleep, but he does close his eyes. I find myself studying him, my gaze slipping from his golden hair to his rugged face and strong body. Even as muscular as he is, there is a sleek gracefulness to him when he moves. Confidence bred from an eternity of fighting.

  Opening his eyes, Lucas smiles when he realizes I’m staring. “You really do have a nice home.”

  He couldn’t have said anything more perfect.

  “It really is, isn’t it?” I reply.

  He opens his arms, and I tuck myself into them. “You’re making wise, independent choices.”

  I laugh. “I’m assuming that means you were a wise, first-choice decision of mine.”

  “The best.”

  “Long term or short term?” I ask, because it needs to be asked.

  Lucas doesn’t reply.

  “What happened tonight?” I try again. I’ve puzzled out most of what I’ve learned. The revelations about who I am. “Shadows came to me, and Desi called me a summoner?”

  Lucas turns his head, his gaze running over my face. “Those weren’t shadows. Those were ghosts. Specifically, Hell ghosts, which are a little different from earth ghosts but essentially the same.” Pulling me tighter against him, he breathes, “A summoner conjures demons and spirits. It’s not unlike what psychics do. Except psychics only channel spirits while a summoner controls them. Summoners can even conjure lower caste fallen angels, although if you ask them to do your bidding, you may regret it.”

  I stare at him. “How am . . . I mean, I don’t—”

  “Gillian was a summoner,” Lucas reveals. He runs his fingers down the side of my face. I’ve noticed he likes touching, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s with me or because he doesn’t get enough of it as a Seraph. “By saving your mother’s pregnancy, Gillian made you a part of her. You share her gifts.” His brows furrow. “And because Gillian was drawing so much on your energy for the ritual to help Levi escape, she created a connection between you and the Infernum. Which is why I can’t read all of your thoughts.”

  My fingers capture his against my face. “I’ve had dreams. Most of them make sense now, but . . . but there was one . . .” I cringe. “There was one of me on top of a mountain, overlooking the town. A man, who I assumed was Levi, threatened Havenwood Falls. I’m not sure it was Levi now.”

  Leaning forward, Lucas kisses me gently on the lips, his face close when he answers, “Being a psychic summoner can either be dangerous or powerful. Now that you know, you can learn to control it. Without control, spirits can use you. You don’t want that. You have a bright future, Harper. The dream is a warning that this town, because of what it is, is always in danger. That’s why you have the Court. That’s why having people like you they can call on is so important. You are going to be an asset here.”

  He smiles. “I have to admit, you confuse me. That takes power. Some of the things that happened to you were Levi. Some were your powers waking up. I have theories, but maybe all Levi needed was your energy and blood and Gillian’s ritual. The Court is going to want to register you as a supernatural. Mortal blood flows through your veins, but you have the ability to call on spirits who would serve you. Who would kill for you if you asked.”

  “And Gillian?” I ask.

  “I don’t see them letting her live,” Lucas replies. Discomfort lines my eyes and face with troubled thoughts, and Lucas leans his forehead against mine. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let her live. Not only did she perform black magic on your mother, but she devised a way and a ritual to help a powerful demon escape a supernatural prison. That’s dangerous information.”

  He pulls back and lifts my chin. “It took me and a legion of angels and demons to take down Levi hundreds of years ago. If I hadn’t fought him here straight after he escaped the prison and while his powers were weak, this wouldn’t have been an easy fight. Revenge blinded him. He wanted to imprison me in the Infernum, and he didn’t have the patience to wait years for his power to grow. Lack of patience
has always been Levi’s downfall.”

  His fingers tighten on my chin. “I want you to remember something. I came into this town prepared for the worst because that’s what truly great warriors do. It doesn’t matter how easy a fight seems, it can always turn. There are too many variables in battle. Be confident, but don’t let confidence blind you.”

  “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

  The smile he gives me is sad. “I have a lot more enemies than just Levi. I am a risk the Court is not going to want to take, and I don’t blame them.”

  My thoughts go immediately to the mountain man on the ridge. “There are other angels here.”

  “Not my kind. Not with my history.”

  I start to speak, but he stops me. “If you’re going where I think you’re going in your head, don’t. You just bought your first house. You have a new beginning here. A place where you’ll be safe, where you can finally be the psychic you were meant to be. There are people here you may finally be comfortable enough to get to know. People who need your help. Places you should go. Words won’t be dangerous for you anymore. Not once you learn how to control them.”

  “Did you really think I was going to offer to go with you?” I ask, exaggerating the hurt expression I give him. “That’s a really high opinion you have of yourself.”

  He cocks a brow.

  “Okay,” I smile, “maybe I was going to suggest it, but I don’t think I would have meant it. I just hate,” my gaze drops, “that there’s no chance to see what this could have been. That there’s no chance to get to know you.”

  “You’ve seen more of what I am outside of being an angel in the past couple of days than I’ve let anyone else see in a long time.”

  I look at him, and this time, I make myself hold his gaze. “You remind me of a falling star. Something beautiful I saw fall from the sky, and then bam, gone.”

  He grins, apparently okay with the analogy. “Did I make wishes come true before I left, at least?”

  I nod.

  He wraps me in his arms, our bodies pressed close. No barriers. Skin to skin. Beating heart against beating heart.

  In the still room, he whispers, “Mortals can be falling stars, too.”

  Chapter 15

  When I wake the next day, Lucas is gone, and even though I expected the absence, my heart clenches like a fist inside my chest.

  The house is too silent.

  After I dress, I make hot chocolate, the smell rich and deep when I lift the cup to my lips. It doesn’t permeate the air quite the same way coffee does, the same way my aunt’s apartment always smelled in the morning, but the chocolate is my smell. My scent in the morning.

  The sun has already risen, leaving the world white and beautiful. Clean. Shadows climb the walls as the sun climbs in the sky, and I watch them over the rim of my cup. They remind me of the night before.

  A psychic summoner. Someone who can both channel spirits and use them. My aunt is a conduit for spirits. She allows them to use her body to send messages to others, but she can’t control them. I can. Not only can they use me to send messages, I can call them forth and use them to do my bidding. I can use them as an army, although I have no desire to do it.

  A mortal supernatural.

  I smile into my cup. Maybe Lucas is right. Mortals can be falling stars, too. I don’t make sense as a person, but I do make sense as something in between human and make believe.

  Maybe I’m the fairy tale I always tried to make my mother.

  “Boy, he sure leaves a big empty feeling behind for having been here for such a short time,” I tell the silence.

  “That’s Lucas for you.”

  I almost drop my cup of cocoa, my gaze flying to the floor. Desi. “What the hell?”

  The mace shudders. “He told me to stay here with you until you’re stronger.”

  The cocoa suddenly doesn’t seem like a strong enough morning drink. “And how long will that be?”

  “I’ll know when,” he replies cryptically.

  “Great.” Now I really do have a pet baseball bat. A talking one.

  Despite my sarcastic tone, my heart melts. Lucas may have left, but he didn’t leave me alone.

  “You are not allowed to go into town with me,” I tell Desi firmly. “There’s no way I can explain you and your nasty looking bronze thorns.”

  “I don’t have to be with you. All you have to do is call me. I’ll hear you.”

  Thank God! I’m not sure I have a backpack big enough to hold him in public.

  Speaking of public, I may not have gotten more than a sip from the cup Lucas brought me the other day, but I know Coffee Haven makes really good hot cocoa.

  It’s time to be brave.

  Chapter 16

  My camera bag slung over my shoulder, I exit Coffee Haven onto the streets of Havenwood Falls with a smile on my face and a second cup of hot cocoa in my hands. In a cup with a logo. It’s the small things.

  On the sidewalk, an elderly woman with a walker meanders by in fancy sweatpants and a pair of sneakers. Big glasses cover most of her face, her lips painted a delicious shade of red. Irene Beckett, a retired schoolteacher and the town’s biggest gossip. Even though she’s a mortal woman, she knows all about the supernaturals in town, and it doesn’t faze her a bit. Maybe that’s why the Court lets her knowledge slide. Or maybe they’re all as afraid of her as I am. There’s something acutely honest and intimidating about Irene. As if, despite her age, she’d give anyone a good fight if challenged.

  Even now, her head bent close to a lady I don’t recognize, but who I feel is a supe, her words play on the breeze like naughty children looking to stir up trouble.

  “The black bear kingdom has a new queen, and she . . .” Looking up, she lowers her voice, the words trailing into something too soft to hear. Excitement lights up her face, and her volume rises with it. “Oh, and that Xandru,” she shakes her head, tsking, “he and Michaela are on the outs again. Tase is ruining yet another thing in that girl’s life, but what can you expect from those Rocas?”

  Irene catches me looking and shakes her finger at my face. “Don’t be staring at me like that, Harper Sinclair. It’s not as if you aren’t in on the action in this town. I heard all about your little dalliance with an angel. Shame, shame. A one-night stand? What has the youth come to? There’s no such thing as committed relationships anymore.”

  Technically, it was a two-night stand, but I don’t correct her.

  I smile. “Commitment would give you nothing to talk about, Mrs. Beckett.”

  She stops dead in her tracks, the tennis balls on the bottom of her walker resting in snow flurries. “Well . . . oh, my. I’ll be damned! You just greeted me like a normal human being. Maybe the sexual awakening did you a little good.” She grins. “I hear you may be a force to be reckoned with before long.”

  “I don’t know what scares me the most,” I reply. “The way you know things so quickly or hearing you talk about sexual awakenings.”

  She grunts. “I’m old, not dead, child.”

  With that, she continues past, head bent, whispering furiously once more.

  On her heels, a familiar beard-covered face approaches the door, with shoulders hunched up near his ears and hands deep in the pockets of his pullover shirt. He stomps the snow off of his work boots onto the sidewalk, his eyes catching mine. Elias.

  He nods.

  I nod back.

  He starts to brush past me, but then stops, his voice raspy and low when he asks, “He left?”

  I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat.

  “It’s for the best,” he tells me. “Especially with his kind. He’ll never age, and he’ll never die. You’ll do both.” He glances down at me. “He’s marked you, though.”

  “Marked me?”

  Elias smiles a slow smile. “Something angels do to let other angels know someone is under his protection.” His gaze swings to the street, and then back to me. “It doesn’t mean you’re his. It means he will pr
otect you and that other angels are expected to do the same.”

  I let his words process in my head before suddenly blurting, “You could be a friend, right? My friend.”

  Elias raises his brows. “Are you asking me to be one?”

  “I’m trying out this list of ‘first time for everything’ stuff. So far, my friend pool has been limited to Court members and my aunt.” I shrug. “I’m branching out.”

  Elias chuckles. “I’ll be a first then.” Nodding one final time, he enters Coffee Haven.

  I hug my cup. Christmas music spills out of the shops down the street, the end of Thanksgiving a welcome reminder that jollier things are on the air. Big ribbons are tied on lampposts and lights are strung along the buildings, mostly unlit until night falls. This is my favorite time of year—the gap between the holiday spent giving thanks and the holiday spent sharing love and friendship.

  This is a holiday season meant for magic . . . and maybe a little courage, too. Eggnog spiked with liquor from my aunt’s collection would help, but I was never good at relying on liquid courage.

  I rely on me.

  Inhaling deeply, I turn and face the one place I’ve spent a lifetime avoiding—Shelf Indulgence. The bookstore is lit up, the inside a mixture of books and cushy furniture that invites customers to stay a while. The big showcase window is empty, a stack of decorations piled against it, and I know by the way the owner scurries back and forth beyond the glass that she has huge plans for her Christmas exhibit.

  Books displayed at the front of the store glare at me, the words scrawled on their covers mocking me. Voices whisper in my head, and I clench my jaw.

  Not without my permission, I growl inwardly.

  “Squeeze any harder, and you’re going to break your cup.” Elias appears next to me, a fresh cup of coffee cradled in his hands. He’s not as tall as Lucas, but he’s broader. He has the frame of a bodybuilder with short, messy dark brown hair and full lips that would bring him a lot of attention if he didn’t have the beard. Releasing his cup with one hand, he tugs on the brim of a baseball cap he wears pulled low, a Havenwood Falls Ski-ventures logo printed on the front. “It will get easier over time. All powers are like that.”