Ashes

by Sophie H. Morgan

  Unlike Edward, who dressed in simple, fine linen, the man who’d joined him was flamboyant in every way. An outfit of pure indigo silk strained across his bulky frame, a court-pigeon image added to by the many chins wagging at his throat. His hair, a shade that leaned toward ginger, ruffled the collar of his shirt as he cocked his head.

  Cade drifted near the hover-limo, eyes sharpening on Edward’s closest advisor. Before Alana’s disappearance, before his contract with the Blades, before he’d soiled the purest thing in his life with a panic-driven rejection, Cade, in his role as Alana’s bodyguard, had often butted horns with Jonah. The human had been sent in Edward’s place more times than not when the High Lands had opened its boundaries to the six other territories, for royal functions and dinners and the like.

  Cade had never trusted the man. Though Jonah might play the fool, his heart beat like a ruthless spy. Often he had observed Alana with a dark glint in those dirt-brown eyes, something that had never failed to raise the jackal’s blood-thirst. And when Alana’s arranged engagement to Edward had been announced, Jonah had been the first to offer his sickly sweet congratulations with a lingering kiss on her hand.

  A growl coiled through Cade’s chest. His jackal prowled within his skin, claws pricking in a near-painful manner, wanting out, wanting to bite. He clamped down on the need with a firm hand. He needed to be smart. Jonah would immediately recognize the princess’s old bodyguard without Shade’s trademark silk demimask concealing his face.

  Alana was already clouding his thoughts, smoking out his logic and enticing his cold blood into heating for the first time in a decade.

  He closed his eyes, nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath.

  His hands relaxed as his jackal receded with a grumpy huff.

  Cade slipped the battered pack off his back, flipping up the flap to rummage inside for his spare mask, cotton this time. Still black. He barely managed to tie the knot before the ruler and his advisor came into hearing distance.

  “I arranged it myself,” Jonah was saying, voice even. Low.

  “Good, good.” Edward’s hand rose to wave at somebody leaning out of an upper window. “No mishaps?”

  “Have I ever disappointed you, Your Eminence?”

  Edward’s eyes flattened. “As I recall, on occasion I have been immensely disappointed with your…shall we say, creative thinking?”

  Jonah blinked. “It was all done as you asked, Eminence.”

  “Good.”

  They reached the hover-limo, pausing by the back. The flame demon stood far enough away to afford privacy. Cade pressed against the cold metal structure on the far side, pricking his ears. Edward’s scent, pure sugar, coiled on the breeze.

  “The, ah, shipment,” Jonah was saying, “should arrive sometime in the next two days.”

  “Take it straight to the location and alert me when it comes through.” Enthusiasm bubbled in Edward’s voice. “This could be a breakthrough for humans, Jonah.”

  “The Circle will praise—”

  “Hush,” Edward hissed. His next words were cutting. “Theirs is not a name to spread around.”

  Cade’s mind latched on to the term, spinning it through his various databases. He’d never heard of a group called such, but he could always run it through the Blades’ research team.

  “My apologies, sire. I only meant to say it is a stroke of genius.”

  “Let us hope so, Jonah. Before the human race has to weather another storm they are ill-equipped to battle.”

  Sensing their talk was winding down, Cade depressed the small silver button hidden beneath the flapped door handle to slide it open. He’d already dispensed with the driver after Edward had first arrived, allowing the human to have a well-earned sleep in the tiny café’s trash pile.

  The back door shut with a metallic swish. Before the bodyguard could walk around to his customary seat with the driver, Cade pressed the white button on the control panel, typing in the hover-limo’s signature code. He tilted the switch from idle to drive.

  Its wheels slid from the parked position into its metallic body as it hovered above the ground and soundlessly sped off.

  The howl of an angry flame demon trailed them.

  “Kerick, you seem to have left Maj behind.” Edward’s voice was arch. “I’d advise you return immediately.”

  Cade operated the standard steering wheel with one hand as he flicked the button that allowed the privacy screen to disengage. He dropped his voice an octave to disguise it. “Not before we have a chat, Edward.”

  In the mirror that allowed Cade an unblocked view of the backseat, Edward’s head jerked up, his skin pale from lack of sun and weathered from the stresses of ruling a territory. Eyes the color of murky seaweed narrowed. “A low power play from you, Shade.”

  “Necessary. I needed to get you alone.”

  “Now you have me.” Edward stretched out his arms along the genuine leather seats, relaxed pose belying the irritated tic under his left eye. “I presume this is about the message I sent?”

  A message that had arrived at Cade’s secure PO box under his alter ego’s name, on thick parchment and printed with words that whispered of rebellion.

  “You knew I would come.”

  “Hoped. I never presume with you, Shade. Even in all the years we’ve known each other, you remain a mystery.”

  “Your message said only that there’s a rebel leader named Liberty hunting your men and blowing up your hospitals.” Cade ignored the ruler’s hint for his secrets.

  Edward’s fingers tapped leather, digits callused from war. “It began about five years ago. Hospitals targeted, my loyal people hunted and butchered. Whispers stirred in the Maze, the one place I am never permitted to enter.”

  “You’re not ‘permitted’?” Cade’s eyes flicked from mirror to street as he took a corner too fast. Fortunately the hover-limo’s technology, slaved over by the crystal palace’s own scientists, corrected the imbalance immediately. “Who can stop you?”

  “If I were to chance opening a hospital within their perimeter, do you understand what would happen to it? There are factions forming who despise the hope I nurture in our youth. They wish to keep the human race downtrodden.” Edward’s voice rose. “Because I believe in a brighter, more hopeful future, they wish to destroy me and everything I stand for. Like this technology.” He waved a hand at the plush interior. “Would they allow me to input helpful technology in the Maze, or would they see it as a sign of advancement and therefore evil? Minds get twisted in the Maze, Shade. I do all I can, but I can only help those who’ll allow me to.”

  That meshed with what he had seen in his day sniffing around the brutal neighborhood. Maze-dwellers not only bit the hand that helped, they mauled it, chewed it off and devoured every morsel.

  “Do you have anybody in the streets?”

  “Prosecution sends its bravest members every so often, but can I send my people to death when they are without equal power?” A lift of one shoulder. “Judge me, but I prefer to keep innocents alive than send them into that hell.”

  This stuck like corn between Cade’s teeth. In his view the men and women who joined Prosecution took a vow to help no matter the cost. They should insist on aiding those innocents who were as trapped in the Maze as if lodged in quicksand.

  Cade checked the landscape, saw the magnificent structure of the crystal palace rising up and calculated only another few minutes of privacy. “And when I find her?”

  “You’re an assassin, Shade. Do I need to tell you?”

  “She must really threaten you.”

  “Believe me, I don’t wish death on anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” In the mirror, Edward’s eyes hardened. “But too many men have died. When you unearth this leader, mark my words, she will be too volatile to be contained. Better a swift death for her than a messy hunt that kills many.”

>   “Understood.” Cade steered around the last corner. The crystal palace beamed in the straggling light, an uncut gem formed through the leader’s vision. Words trembled on Cade’s lips as he pulled up behind the tree line that marked the beginning of Edward’s property. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about missing kids?”

  “Missing children?” Edward’s face smoothed to a blank sheet. “I haven’t been informed of any missing.”

  “Maze children, mostly, though some taken from the Outer Boundary and beyond.”

  Edward’s lips pressed together. “I’m ashamed to say that it happens frequently. The Maze has long tendrils of darkness that we do our best to cut off, but it does occasionally touch the public. I’ll send some officers to investigate.”

  Cade nodded. The jackal butted its nose against his skin, growling softly at the easy acceptance of Maze-dwellers’ disappearances. Cade ignored it. “I’ll be seeing you.”

  He’d disappeared out the door before Edward had time to reply.

  Ana strode into the lounging area of the Hoods’ HQ, her entire being itching for some action. She’d been lying low, or as Trick had termed it, keeping-your-fucking-head-down, for the past three days as news of Shade kept coming up empty.

  Trick had personally returned to her house four blocks from their HQ the night she’d admitted the attack, and had reported that the so-called justice assassin had disappeared, leaving behind shattered chains and a splintered headboard. As Ana took it, a nonverbal fuck you.

  With a little luck, he’d returned to his master, tail between his legs, lying through his teeth. Surely he knew that if he ratted on her, she’d rat on him. It was the code of the streets; it was the one thing saving her from breaking.

  Faer sat on the moth-eaten gray couch they’d liberated from a ’crat’s leavings last year, booted feet planted on the dusty concrete floor. The black-on-black pants and sweater he wore emphasized his bulky, muscular frame, the standard uniform of a Hood out on patrol. Even his long dark hair had been clubbed back into a no-nonsense braid.

  His bicolored eyes glimmered with doubt, probably as he absorbed the fact that, unlike on the past three nights, she, too, wore the customary uniform of black on black.

  “What?” she demanded. Her hands flexed by her sides as she paused in front of him.

  Faer lifted the antique dagger he’d been polishing and tested the point against one of his fingers. Ana admired the faded silver blade, the navy jewel set in the hilt, even while she waited for his response. Battle-caste demons like Faer adored antique weaponry more than the latest advancements, such as flash-guns. While some demons could operate the magical-and-science technology, after a length of time it tended to blow up their heads.

  Ana shrugged. One way to kill a demon.

  Tossing the dagger in the air, Faer smoothly caught the hilt. “Trick’s gonna be pissed.” He tucked the dagger in the back of his trousers, checking it was secure.

  “Trick’s always pissed.” She flicked her claws in his direction. He acted as if Trick were her keeper. Aware that a spiral of irritated flame had begun to spark in the pit of her belly, Ana let loose a slow breath. “He can suck it. I’m good to go.”

  Faer scratched at his jaw where bristles bloomed. “Why’s he taken you off active detail, anyways?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  Ana headed for the weapons wall that lay to the right of the couch. They’d left all the exposed brick walls bare except for this one, plastering it so their assorted weapons could have a designated spot. Organized, efficient, a touch anal. Trick to a tee.

  Undiscouraged, Faer’s eyes were searching as she selected her bow from its slot, as her fingers smoothed over the old, carved wood. “Must’ve been pretty bad.”

  When she began to retort, Sapphy and Vander walked in, both already sporting greatswords. They were bickering, as always, the fae lecturing Vander on the correct way to sharpen swords.

  Vander had his resting on his neck, but he swung it in a large arc when he noticed Ana with her bow in hand. “All right,” he whooped, interrupting Sapphy. An immature fist pump accompanied the hoot. “The huntress is back on active detail.”

  “We missed you, girl.” Sapphy hefted her sword without difficulty—doubtless due to her affinity with air as a fae Elemental. Rare even in fae culture, it was a power that marked its owner as one to beware. Her eyes shone a rich blue, even as they rolled at Vander’s antics. “Being the only woman meant being surrounded by people who don’t know how to clean themselves.”

  Vander put a hand to his chest. “I wash.”

  “You dab.” Sapphy flicked her braid over her shoulder, where it hit the small of her back. The points of her fae ears peeked through the wispy strands. “You have to actually rub the cloth. With soap.”

  “Is that where I’m going wrong?”

  “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a bit of manly odor,” Faer interjected, lifting his arm for a good sniff at his armpit. Nearby, Ana pretended to gag. He scowled at her. “It tells other demons I’m not a chickenshit to be messed with.”

  “I’m not sure that’s right,” Vander mused.

  “Whatever, it’s enough to ward off a fight.” Ana stuffed a few arrows from the wall in her flame-retardant quiver. “They smell Faer; they run a mile. Works for me.”

  Trick’s entry at that juncture was timely, prompting Faer to swallow whatever retort he would have made. His dress was elegant yet efficient, a hugging sweater and trousers. No boots for Trick; he wore handmade, genuine leather shoes.

  His eyes rested on her with significance. “No.”

  She fisted a hand at her hip, gestured with her quiver. The arrows shook like a roll of thunder. “Notice I didn’t ask permission.”

  “Because you correctly assumed I’d say no.”

  “No.” Maybe.

  “It’s too dangerous.” He loomed up, his half a foot advantage making it an easy threat. “You were already foolish enough to get caught.”

  “Foolish?”

  “Shade made you. Smart coin says he remains in the area, and he’s already found you once. He isn’t likely to surrender; Liberty’s too juicy a plum. Word is the bounty Edward’s set is at five hundred thousand.”

  “Not even a mil?” At Trick’s stony-faced glower, Ana bit back the smile. “Relax, Trick. I’ll be a ghost.”

  “No.”

  Ana fought the urge to stamp her foot, ignoring the interest pulsing from Sapphy and Vander. Faer continued to sharpen his sword, a task he’d taken up as soon as the fight had started.

  “You can’t stop me.” Her hands fisted and relaxed in an edgy rhythm.

  “Yes, I damn well can.” He was suddenly gripping one of her wrists.

  She called the flames temper had stirred, her skin leaching heat. Her smile was without humor when he swore aloud and retreated, his hands reddened. “Don’t treat me like a defenseless moron. I know the risks.”

  Trick’s eyes drilled into her, dirty, seething. Without a word, he left the room.

  Ana released the breath she’d been holding, upper body as taut as a tripwire. She absently rubbed the side of her neck with her free hand.

  Why can’t he understand…?

  She had to go out, had to save people. It was a way to relieve some of the guilt that festered like a sore.

  A gentle tap on wooden panels. The door swinging into darkness. Cold, oozing puddles that cling stickily to bare feet.

  “He does it ’cause he cares,” Faer muttered, interrupting the memory.

  Ana moistened dry lips, dragging her attention back to the demon as he placed his sharpening tools on a table held together with putty and prayers. Beneath the calm exterior, her heart throbbed in jerky beats. Fire flared in brilliant jewel tones, pulsing under her skin.

  Her hands curled into fists. Back in the room.


  Faer’s chin jerked toward the door Trick had used. He arched his eyebrows, eyes searching. Still, he echoed his earlier statement. “He don’t want to lose you.”

  Ana ruffled her cap of hair as Sapphy and Vander tactfully headed out, sniping at each other as they went. Their taunts faded, unlike the smarting hurt that constricted Ana’s belly like a band. “He needs to get that I’m not that little girl he trained,” she said, concentrating on the now. The past faded, buried beneath the woman’s will. “I’m a leader, not a pet.”

  “Vamps don’t think in black and white. Shades of gray, baby.” Faer hefted his sword. The muscles in his arms shifted gracefully. “He don’t see a warrior; he sees his protégée, his family, a woman—no matter what you do, he’s always gonna see that,” he interrupted as she began to protest. “He don’t care ’bout a lotta people.” He swung his sword. The sound it made was like a high-pitched whistle. “Sometimes, he don’t know how to handle it.”

  Ana absorbed this with a resentful grunt, knowing Faer had a point and not liking it one damn bit. She slung her quiver across her body, adjusting the soft strap with agitated fingers. “He’s still a jackass.”

  “Yep,” Faer easily agreed and began to stride toward the door. He winked at her over his shoulder. “Huge one.”

  Ana grinned at his retreating back, gentling her hand’s death grip on the bow. Glancing down at it, she smoothed her fingers over the mark carved into the genuine oak. The size of a small coin, it was a simple design of two flames interlocking in a circle, similar to the humans’ yin and yang symbol.

  The royal crest. It was a reminder to all phoenixes to remain balanced in their emotions, lest their power overcome reason.

  It was the single object she’d brought with her. A silly decision, as anyone could see the crest and work out her identity, but somehow she hadn’t been able to part with this one fragment from her past. And that had more to do with the fact that it reminded her to stay grounded than with the fact that Cade had given her lessons on how to shoot.

  Waves crashed over her head as nostalgia pounded her, a thousand small cuts across the breadth of her heart.