Ascension (The Gryphon Series)

by Rourke, Stacey

  I moved with him, pressing firm to the discus. It blackened in my hand, sucking Barnabus’s vile energy out like a hungry tick. The spastic convulsing seemed to drag on forever. Finally, with one last shudder, he stilled, his glassy eyes open with the unseeing calm of the dead.

  Crouched beside him, I prayed for a sign that it had worked, that I wasn’t too late. I leaned closer and blinked hard, unsure if the green glow was playing tricks or if his dead eyes had really just lightened in hue. A slow smile spread across my face as the darkness drained from his hair, brightening it to its original strawberry-blond hue.

  Alec awoke with a start. Hungrily, he gulped in a lungful of air. His blinks came furious and rapid as he gazed around the room in startled confusion. Finally, his stare settled on me. A smile, as fresh and jubilant as the first bud of spring, bloomed on his face.

  “Celeste?” He scrambled to get his feet under him. I wrapped his arm around my neck to help him up on wobbly legs. “Where are we? I … I can’t remember. I was at the hospital then … nothing.”

  For so long I’d carried the guilt of Alec’s possession as my own cross to bear. Now he was free, and so was I. I didn’t love him—not in that way, I never had. Even so, as he peered down at me with those crystal blue eyes I was overcome with relief. I’d given my friend his life back. No matter the price, I’d done the right thing.

  “I promise I’ll get you caught up,” I hooked one arm around his waist and shuffled him toward Rowan—our mystical taxi, “just as soon as we get you home.”

  “Oh, there is one more matter before you go.” A powerful chill prompted a rash of goose bumps to spread across my arms at the cold malice in the Countess’s voice.

  Alec craned his neck in her direction. “Who’s that? Do I know her?”

  “She’s no one. Rowan, would you please help Alec back to the truck?” Row nodded and reached for Alec whose grip on me tightened when I tried to shrug out from under his arm.

  “No, I don’t trust her. I … can’t explain why, but I know I’m not leaving you here alone.”

  Prickles across my neck and down my arms alerted me that trouble was brewing. She was the hungry Great White and all three of us were injured, bleeding harp seals. “Alec, I forgot just how stubborn you can be. Even in moments when that’s really not an asset.”

  “Come now,” the Countess’s red painted lips curled into a wide smile as she flipped her hair over her shoulder, “the boy is just looking out for you. He’s so noble, and considerate … it’s almost a waste.” With one dangerously sharp finger-nail, she made a slicing motion across her own neck.

  “You won’t touch h—” My words were cut off by warmth dripping down my arm.

  “Celeste?” Alec’s voice came out as nothing more than a gurgled croak.

  Time slowed to a crawl. A crimson line split Alec’s neck. Blood gushed from the wound, soaking us both in a shower of inky red. My arms tightened around him as his eyes rolled back and his legs buckled. All I could do was hold tight to prevent his head from smacking against the ground as he crumpled.

  “Alec!” My pulse drummed in my head loud enough to muffle my own voice. “Alec!”

  Rowan knelt beside me and reached for Alec. I slapped his hand away, worried any touch would harm him more. He forcibly shoved me aside and clamped his hand around Alec’s wrist. “Celeste?”

  “We … we have to get him to Big Mike. Now!”

  “Celeste.”

  I shook my head in a proactive denial of the terrible words I feared were about to spout from his lips. “He can heal him, but we have to hurry! He’s already lost so much blood.”

  My voice betrayed me by cracking. That momentary display of weakness allowed the tears I’d been holding at bay to breakthrough. With tears falling in torrents, I laid my hands against the wound, silently praying this would be the moment the Gryphon would grant me the ability to heal, just as Keni could. No glowing warmth came. Just a nonstop flow of red that seeped between my fingers and stained my skin. “There’s so much blood …”

  “Celeste!” Rowan pulled my trembling hands away and pressed them to his chest. “It’s too late. He’s gone, Mo Chroi. You need to pull it together now or we’ll be joinin’ him in the hereafter, sooner rather than later. Do you understand me?”

  I stared down at Alec—or the empty shell where he’d once lived—and nodded. Rowan released his hold on me. I rose to my feet on shaky legs. In one hand I held tight to the now blood covered discus. The numb void of loss twisted and churned itself inside me into an ugly rage.

  Slowly, my head rose. “Why?” I growled.

  “I said you could save him, I never said I’d let him live,” she answered with a warm, maternal smile that was set slightly askew by the malicious gleam in her crimson eyes. “I had to ensure Barnabus was truly gone. Couldn’t have old enemies wandering back, now could we? Your betrayal would make you as much a target for him as I am.” Her longing gaze flicked to the discus. “Now, I’m going to need one little drop of your blood and that device. After which it would be wise for you to get the hell out of my way … quickly.”

  I weighed the discus in my palm. Outwardly, it seemed such an insignificant lump of nothing, just useless glass. Yet this lone artifact could bring the Countess face to face with the being that betrayed her. One drop of my blood could free me and make her the lethal burden of the Spirit Plane.

  Rowan stepped closer. His breath warmed my ear as he coaxed softly, “Don’t do anything rash, lass. We still want to walk out of here, aye?”

  No more pain. No more loss. The payment? One droplet of life’s essence.

  “Slide it back into your pocket. I’ll poof us out of here before she can follow.”

  “I wouldn’t listen to your back-up boyfriend if I were you.” Her stiletto boots clicked against the floor as she sauntered closer. Her crimson waves bobbed with each step. “Then again, I doubt sound reasoning is what draws you to him. Tell me, have you tasted both him and the Irishman? I bet this one taps into your darker, more animalistic urges, doesn’t he? Well, this night is still salvageable. Give me what I want and the two of you can scurry off for a naughty little rebound romp to clear the last of the thoughts of Caleb from your mind.”

  A sharp bark of laughter bubbled up from my chest. It held no humor, but signified the death of the last shred of sanity this horrific day had left me with. I didn’t pause—didn’t think—but reared back and whipped the discus at the ground with all my might. It broke into three pieces: one large and two small shards. For good measure I stomped down on the largest piece hard enough for it to shatter.

  The Countess gasped.

  Rowan uttered an expletive.

  I breathed in the stillness that rushed over me as a sign I’d done the right thing.

  Fury sharpened the Countess’s pin-up features. Combined with the green haze hanging over the room and she looked every bit the part of the wicked witch. “You have no idea the hell you just brought down on yourself, you naïve little twit,” she snarled.

  I threw my arms out wide and spun in a circle. “Do you see my sword or my shield here? This is your big chance. Let’s end it. Right here, right now. Bleed me dry and the Gryphon will be weakened enough not to maintain the cloaked entrance.”

  She didn’t advance, but laid her hands on her hips and peered at me with devilish delight. Her cavalier attitude only fueled my rage.

  “What are you waiting for?” I yelled hard enough to strain my throat.

  From behind me came Rowan’s exasperated mumble, “Oh, bugger.”

  The Countess dismissed me altogether and focused her attention on my pirate cohort. “I think the rubber band of your friend’s sanity has finally snapped. It is funny, though, that she thinks I would let her out of this so easily. Nevertheless, we both know how this works. Don’t we, pet?”

  Rowan’s entire frame tensed at her conspiratorial wink. If there was anything I’d learned in all my experiences, it was that nothing good ever followed a dem
on getting nervous. I spun back toward the Countess, wondering what I was missing in this highly charged exchange.

  If she noticed his change in demeanor she didn’t acknowledge it, but caught one of the glow sticks with the toe of her shoe and rolled it under her boot. “Our minds work differently. We tread the more twisted path; to go for the hurt, before the kill. That’s why we will always be the survivors—the victors—while the rest perish in our wake.”

  “I’m nothing like you,” Rowan hissed through his teeth.

  Her head fell back and laughter rang through the Gateway, taunting us with its echo. In a blink she stood directly in front of Rowan at a proximity reserved for lovers … or murderers.

  “Oh, sweetness, you really believe that don’t you?” Her hand wandered up to stroke his chest. He flinched at her touch, but stood firm. “You think you can be the good guy, just because you want to? I hate to break that sexy heart of yours, but it doesn’t work that way. Perhaps I’ll do you a favor and prove it? Spare you from living in this childish fantasy?”

  “Try. Please,” he growled the statement as a dare, not a plea.

  The Countess molded herself to him, whispering loud enough for me to hear, “I could’ve let her walk away, until she crossed me. Now she has to learn what you already know.” Black nails snaked through his hair. She grasped a handful of his golden locks in a tight grip and wrenched his head back hard enough to make him yelp. Her pink tongue darted out and licked across the pulse of his jugular. “I’ll make her watch as I kill every single person she loves. Then, I’ll bring the pain in ways her innocent mind can’t even fathom, until she begs me to kill her. And you know how effective my methods are …”

  She pushed off his chest and sashayed away, pausing by Alec’s lifeless body long enough to nudge him with the side of her boot. Her touching him at all awoke my deep-seeded lust to tear her head off. I lunged for her, but was snagged mid-motion by Rowan. Absolute terror branded its mark across his handsome face as he fervently shook his head in warning.

  “I gave you a choice once before to join me. That same offer stands now. Rejoin my ranks in the Dark Army and avoid the agony this paltry human and all those that stand with her will suffer … or die alongside them.” She cast him a spiteful grin over her porcelain shoulder. “In case you were confused, this is definitely one of those ‘right hand of the devil’ moments.”

  Rowan’s hands fell as if I’d suddenly become scalding to the touch. Confusion and doubt swirled in his gaze. My blood ran cold. I knew that look. I’d seen it before—on him. Rowan had already made his decision. The only way I would get out of here alive was to fight my way out against the same guy that led me in.

  Trepidation crept through me as a fresh resolve settled over the pirate. “Mo Chroi, I truly am sorry. For absolutely everything I’ve done to ya.”

  “Don’t be,” I stated with a condescending huff. “I’ve known for quite some time what kind of guy you truly are. I can’t even pretend to be surprised this time.”

  His smile faltered. Blond waves fell forward, framing his face as he lowered his chin and stared up at me from under his furrowed brow. “Sometimes a man can only be defined by the choices he makes.”

  With that he turned and strode toward the Countess.

  “You’re not a man!” I shouted at his back. “You’re a worthless, despicable pirate! One I should’ve killed the very day I met you. Even that was staged, wasn’t it? You controlled that little puff ball dog’s mind and made it chase me so you could look like a hero. But it was all a show. There’s no hero in you. There never was, because compassion can’t survive in your cold, black heart.”

  Rowan didn’t look back or acknowledge my rant at all. He kept on course, his stride steady and determined. I was so wrapped up in my verbal purging and colorful use of expletives that I almost missed the puff of smoke behind his wrist. A ornate dagger fell into his hand, carefully concealed from the Countess’s sight by his arm.

  Rowan gripped the hilt of the dagger and sprung. The tip of the blade dented a pinpoint mark in the Countess’s leather bustier, but made it no further. One raised palm was all it took for the Countess to halt him. She wiggled two fingers in a playful wave. Rowan obediently retracted the dagger, flipped it over in his hands, and plunged it deep into his gut.

  For the second time that night, I watched in horror as one of mine fell in a bloody heap.

  Chapter 13

  Blood pooling.

  Seeping.

  Merging.

  Swirling together to form a detailed map of carnage.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The Countess pursed her full lips in a mock pout. “And to think he was trying to save you. You must feel simply dreadful right now.”

  Anger quickened my breath, making each word come out a breathless gasp. “Shut … up.”

  “Why’s that?” She rested her palms on her ample hips and let her head fall to the side in a flowing curtain of scarlet. “Don’t feel like talking about it? Can’t say that I blame you. Here he was, marching over here so gallantly to protect you, while you called him names and berated him. That’s evil even by my standards and I make a viable vocation out of this.”

  One stride into a forward charge toward certain death, I froze. My shocked heart lurched into an awkward stutter beat. The cause of my surprise? Rowan, rolling to his side and yanking the dagger from his gut. The Countess’s painted lips pulled back in a sneer.

  Heels clicked across the floor with sharp snaps as she strode straight for him. “I hate it when people don’t have the courtesy to die the first time you kill them.”

  With the stiletto heel of her boot, she pinned Rowan’s wrist to the floor … then stomped. Rowan howled and writhed as blood spurted from his wound. His injured hand loosened around the hilt. Before the blade could clank to the ground, the vile enchantress scooped it up. Flipping it in her hand, she arched back for the death blow.

  “Nooooo!!” I channeled everything inside me. Pulling every emotion that ravaged me throughout this god-awful day into my core, I raised both hands and hit her with the full force of my telepathic fury.

  The dagger flew from her hand as she pinwheeled into the darkness.

  I rushed to Rowan’s side and eased him to a sitting position. “Row? Rowan?”

  It took a minute for his sleepy gaze to find me. Even then, his dilated pupils hinted consciousness would be fleeting. In the distance came a soft thud. The Countess must’ve found the other side of this massive hall. My little stunt bought us seconds only.

  “Row?” My fingers dug into his shoulders as I attempted to shake him awake. “Can you teleport? I don’t know any other way out of here and we need to go now!”

  In place of an answer, his eyes rolled back and his head lulled to the side.

  Like rapid-fire gunshots, her heels clicked closer, building around us in an ominous echo.

  I slapped Rowan softly once, then a second time with more vigor. “Rowan! Come on! One little poof, then you can pass out! I promise! Just get us out of here!”

  He woke with a jerk, a protective passion rising on his face. His tensed features sharpened. Turquoise eyes blazed as his injured hand weaved into my hair and pulled me to him. Blood dripped down the back of my neck and dampened my hair, yet pulling away never occurred to me. His lips brushed mine with a tentative question—a plea for acceptance. I hesitated for a fraction of a second before consenting with a resounding mutual urgency. Locked in each other’s embrace, we disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

  It took me longer than society would deem acceptable to realize Rowan had passed out again somewhere mid-kiss. With a self-deprecating cringe, I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and glanced around to see where we’d landed. The sun had just begun to raise its head, casting its long beams out to chase away night’s hold. A lone sunbeam fell across my little white S-10, illuminating it with a heavenly spotlight.

  “Only a few yards away, not too shabby for an unconscious guy,” I murmured and hooked his
arm around my neck to haul him the remaining distance.

  Quick as I could, I dumped him in the passenger seat. Then I buckled myself in and drove like the devil was chasing us—which she may have been—to get back to Gram’s. Through frequent glances his way, I watched Rowan’s golden complexion drain to a milky white. A blue hue encircled those lips that I could still taste on my own.

  “Don’t you dare die. Do you hear me?” I gnawed on my lower lip and slammed the accelerator to the floor.

  “You … kissed me back,” he rasped in an almost inaudible whisper.

  “I did.” My heart did a herky jerky beat of happiness that he was conscious, at least momentarily. “I thought you were dying. Seemed rude to refuse your last request.”

  He winced in pain and struggled to speak through his visible agony. “I’ve … died … a little … every … day since the … moment … you walked into my life.”

  I took my eyes off the road long enough to shoot him a cynical glare from under my lowered brow. “What the heck does that mean?”

  “I don’t know … but I managed to say it with a straight face.” His snort of laughter morphed into a hacking cough that racked his body.

  “Only you could manage to be an ass on the brink of death.”

  “Aye. It’s … a gift.” His voice wavered and trailed off as his bloody hand fell limp on the seat beside him.

  Getting Rowan out of the truck was considerably more challenging than shoving him in. His dead weight combined with the neighbors buzzing around, busily starting their days, increased the difficulty tenfold. Once I hoisted him up, the watchful eye of Mr. Dover across the street made it mandatory for me to grab a handful of hair at the back of the sleeping pirate’s head and prop his head up Weekend at Bernie’s style. Granted, I probably didn’t have to bump Rowan’s hand up in a makeshift wave, but sleep deprivation made selling the scene seem of dire importance.

  “Grams!” I hollered as soon as I burst through the front door.