Ashes of the Firebird (The Firebird Fairytales Book 2)

by Kuivalainen, Amy

  ***

  Aleksandra was busy folding her clothes and placing them into the newly bought suitcase when Mychal appeared. One minute she was alone, the next he was sitting in the corner of her room.

  She glanced over to her bedside table and the fading white rose had been subtly replaced with a red one. Her heart started hammering. He had never given her a red rose before. They had always been white.

  “You are leaving,” he said finally.

  “How observant of you.” Aleksandra was slightly more sarcastic than she meant to be. He was so infuriatingly blunt sometimes. “Sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “Being a bitch.”

  “You were being a bitch?”

  Aleksandra looked up to see if he was teasing her but he looked genuine. Maybe he hadn’t been taught sarcasm in the priesthood. He’s not a priest though, is he? Her traitorous thoughts betrayed her.

  “Are you going to come with us?” she asked as nonchalantly as she could.

  “Would you like me to?”

  “Your skills would be very helpful. They want you to come along.” Aleksandra focused on the clothes she was folding and was very glad she had something to keep her hands busy. She didn’t hear him move before he was behind her.

  “That wasn’t what I asked. Would you like me to?” Aleksandra straightened but didn’t turn around.

  “Yes, I would.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like to keep my eyes on you. All three of them,” she said, sounding much more calm than she felt. “If I see something about to attack you I like being able to tell you. I can’t really do that unless you’re close by.”

  “Here I was thinking you would miss my company.”

  Aleksandra glanced over her shoulder and saw the teasing gleam in his eye, “I would miss your surly, anti-social company as well.”

  “I’m not that anti-social. I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, but you tend to disappear mid-sentence or whenever any other people show up.”

  “Other people annoy me.”

  “Of course they do. That’s what extended family is all about.” Aleksandra tossed the jacket she was holding on the end of the bed and turned on him, hands firmly on hips. “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say. I want to you to come with us. If you’re waiting for me to beg, I’m not going to. Come if you want. If not, go away from Budapest at least. Do that much for me. Do it soon because I’m not good with painful drawn out goodbyes.”

  All expression on Mychal’s face melted into his classic blank gaze. Aleksandra felt her stomach plummet to her feet. Mychal leaned in and slowly kissed the scar above her eye.

  “Be careful,” he said softly before he headed out the balcony doors. Aleksandra stood speechless for a few moments before she rushed outside. Nothing. As she expected. With a choked sob, she went and lay back on her bed.

  “I should’ve begged.”

  ***

  Anya was still feeling warm and intoxicated when she went to see Silvian. Yvan had carried her to the nearest couch and left her there. He seemed to be upset about something but Anya felt so drunk on power that she couldn’t have asked him about it even if she wanted to.

  She wandered aimlessly through the huge mansion humming to herself and hoping to bump into Silvian. Anya walked past a big carved set of double doors she had never noticed before. With an involuntary giggle, she pushed them open and stepped into another world.

  It was a singular, highly vaulted room. Long banners of all different lengths in shades of reds, oranges and burnt yellows hung down from the ceiling and were fastened to the walls. It gave the feeling of walking under a tented roof. Brightly woven mats covered the floor and large heavily embroidered cushions were arranged into piles next to low tables or on their own.

  Anya looked around in astonished delight as she continued her way in. Darkly varnished poles held up more fabric in areas, adding to the illusion of being inside of a tent. In fact, the further she walked in she forgot that she was in freezing Budapest. Small cast iron braziers filled with coals made the area warm and created a cheery glow.

  “Look who is trespassing in my bedroom,” Silvian said from behind her. She turned and caught sight of him sitting on a mound of pillows, wearing only a pair of loose black pants. His dark, bold hair hung in ringlets and contrasted beautifully with the bright surroundings.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” she stammered as she made her way towards him, “I was looking for you. Do you know this is kind of amazing?” She did a few little ballerina twirls with her arms out wide.

  “Are you drunk?” Silvian laughed.

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Anya was so dizzy from twirling that she collapsed on the pillows next to him. “I’m better than drunk.”

  “Wait, there is something…” Silvian touched her hand lightly and then pulled back quickly, “What did you do, Anya?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes you do. You are glowing. Even your hair is glowing,” his eyes raked over her.

  “I may have used magic with Aramis and something weird happened and now I feel like I am high.”

  “Aramis…”Silvian muttered, “Bloody stupid bloody Álfr. Tell me what you did.” Anya fell under the spell of his black eyes and spilled everything. When she was done, Silvian was shaking his head.

  “If I may renew my previous sentiments…bloody stupid Álfr!” he hissed.

  “I don’t think he can really be blamed for it. It was my magic that wrapped him tight like a mummy.”

  “Yes, and he was dumb enough to allow his magic to slide into you. When that happens residue is left over. That’s why you have a glow. It has branded you.”

  “Is that why I’m aroused?” Anya asked before her brain could tell her that it was inappropriate.

  “Maybe,” Silvian’s face broke into an irresistibly, dirty grin, “or it could be because you’re around me.”

  “I can’t argue with you there.” Anya let out an embarrassed chuckle. Then she kissed him. Silvian kissed her back strongly and deeply before pulling back.

  “Anya, this is not a good idea. You’re hurting from Trajan and worse than drunk from your magic use. I don’t take advantage of intoxicated or bespelled women. Right now, you could be considered both.”

  “We are leaving Budapest in a few days. I’m so tired of being responsible and under 24 hour supervision.”

  “Taking some of Aramis’s magic was very irresponsible. What you are feeling now is the aftermath of that high. That’s all. When it wears off, you would regret anything that happened between us.”

  “Who would’ve thought an incubus would be such a prude? I don’t care if it is an aftermath of magic usage or your considerable incubus powers.” He reached out and touched her face, feather light.

  “You strike a good argument.”

  “I need to use up all this energy somehow.” Silvian laughed full and rich. It rushed down Anya’s backbone.

  “You had better stop those tricks if you’re hell bent on not giving me what I want,” she warned. Her head was spinning and she felt like twirling again.

  “Aren’t you afraid that I will steal all your life energy away?”

  “Was I worried about it when I had sex with Trajan?”

  “And look how that turned out. I’m not going to take advantage of you, Anya, because sleeping with me will not take the pain of Trajan from your heart. I will keep you company until you come down off your high. Permit me a few incubus tricks? If Aramis is going to break rules then so am I.”

  “Of course.” He smiled again and snapped his fingers. Anya felt her magic spike and she found herself sitting on a large woven blanket spread out on heated sand. A warm desert breeze drifted over her bringing scents of cinnamon and jasmine flowers.

  She was now dressed in a rich purple, Grecian style dress. A band of woven gold was wrapped underneath her breasts and golden clasps held the f
abric up on her shoulders.

  Silvian watched her reactions in a lazy way and smiling to himself. Anya remembered the vision she had when they had first met of their light and dark skin melded together on a bed of sand. Torches were lit and stuck into the sand to cast warm light around them. Anya glanced behind her and saw pandanas palms and coconut trees surrounding dark aquamarine water. They were in the most perfect oasis ever created.

  “Where are we?” she asked finally.

  “Technically, we are in Budapest. Enjoy the illusion; it is one of my best.”

  “I will,” Anya said as she gazed around.

  Silvian ran his hands down her arms very slowly. Anya closed her eyes as the rush of heat and desire enveloped her.

  ***

  Aramis felt the tingle of Silvian’s magic reverberate through the mansion. He also could feel Anya’s and knew instinctively what was happening. He swore viciously and ran as fast as his long legs would carry him.

  He banged on Silvian’s bedroom doors but there was no answer. He tried to kick the door down but Silvian’s magic was holding it shut. He placed his palm on the door, sending his power through it, feeling the shape of Silvian’s illusion. Aramis was going to have to find a way in before Silvian managed to take advantage of her.

  He was reluctant to do any magic after what had happened in the garden but he had no choice. He shut his eyes, summoned his magic, and reached for the trace elements of Anya’s that remained inside of him. He was going in.

  ***

  Silvian’s mouth was on Anya’s neck when she felt her power surge. There was something different about her magic. She could sense Aramis’s in it even though they weren’t touching. Those pieces were starting to burn hotter than the rest.

  She sat up, “What is that?” A star that twinkled above her was growing fiercely bright and descending. Silvian looked up and groaned.

  “We are about to be in a lot of trouble,” he said as he watched it fall. It landed on the horizon, hovering above the sand. The ball of light was growing brighter and larger. It was moving towards them. Anya shielded her eyes and waited until they could adjust. When they did, she saw that it was Aramis. He was dressed in grey and silver armour and looked beyond furious. His blue eyes, the only real colour about him, glowed with anger.

  “Silvian, how could you?” he asked severely.

  “Do not blame Silvian. I’m the one who is to blame. I instigated it,” Anya said as she got to her feet. Aramis’s fearsome gaze bore down on her. She looked away from him, feeling like she was the lowliest of whores. He snapped his fingers and she was dressed back in her jeans and tee shirt. Silvian started laughing loud and cruel.

  “Are you playing whose illusion is strongest?”

  “Be quiet. You knew what you were doing. She didn’t. How could you use her like that?” Silvian climbed to his feet and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

  “How could you put the elvianth on her!” he shouted. “I thought after that massive law breaking that I could play some tricks of my own.” Aramis looked lost for words.

  “I didn’t…”

  “Yes, you did! Look at her, Aramis! She is glowing with your frođleikr.”

  “I knew some her magic was still inside of me but I didn’t think…”

  “How dare you accuse me of misconduct,” Silvian snapped. “What you have done is unforgivable. And what was so terrible about what I was about to do? Give her a good night before her life becomes even more ruined.” Anya looked from one to the next and hot tears started rolling down her cheeks. Her magic buzz was fading and she was frustrated and angry.

  “Enough!” she screamed as they kept berating each other. She needed to get out of this illusion right NOW! She released her power in every direction. The parts of Aramis’ magic inside of her bolstered her own strength.

  There was a high-pitched sound and Silvian screamed. The illusion shattered like a glass bowl and they were back in Silvian’s bedroom. He was lying on the floor cradling his head. Aramis stumbled before he threw up all over the Persian rugs.

  “Anya, you shouldn’t have done that. You could have broken his mind completely.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me about what I should’ve done.” Anya slapped him hard across the cheek. Silvian climbed to his feet laughing at the red mark on the Álfr’s perfect face. Anya brought her left hand around and slapped him too.

  “What was that for?” he whinged as he rubbed his cheek.

  “You lied to me!” Anya pointed a finger at Silvian before moving onto Aramis. “And you have put some Álfr curse on me as well as rushing in to stop Silvian stealing my honour. The pair of you disgust me.” She stared them down a moment longer before she strode from the room, slamming the door on the way out.

  “You handled that well, didn’t you?” Silvian commented after Anya had left. Aramis turned to give him an earful but noticed how much the incubus was shaking. It had been a very strong illusion that she had torn apart.

  “I couldn’t have put the elvianth on her,” he shook his head in disbelief. “It’s not possible.”

  “She is glowing with your magic, Aramis. You can be as angry with me as you like. I am not the one you have to worry about. What if the Álfr finds out and doesn’t warm to her like you have? They could very well get one of the Dauđi Dómr onto her. Or worse still, send Søren after her!” Aramis’s legs couldn’t hold him up. He sank to his knees and clutched his head. Silvian wasn’t the only one Anya had hurt from breaking the illusion.

  “Were you going to feed off her?”

  “No, I wasn’t,” Silvian sat down next to him. “I never tried to seduce her. Maybe I should have fed on her to try to get rid of the elvianth.”

  “You can’t get rid of the stigma like that,” Aramis shook his head. “I never meant to do it. I have never been able to do it before. Our frođleikr did it of its own accord.”

  “Do you think the council will see it that way?”

  “You mean if I tell them?”

  “Aramis, they will know. They always do. They will sense that bit of Álfr power in her now. The question is what are you going to tell her?”

  “Nothing, for now.”

  “That is a bad idea. She is smart, so she will want to know.”

  “I’m hoping she will be too angry to want to talk to me for a while.” They sat in a heavy silence for a long time.

  “Are you going to clean that up?” Silvian asked as he pointed to the puddle of vomit. Aramis snapped his fingers and it disappeared.

  ***

  They left Budapest and Silvian’s opulent hospitality the following day. Anya was still fuming at Aramis. He stood tall and solemn in a dark blue three-piece suit with a pale blue shirt, his dark leather trench setting off the ensemble. Anya wished she wasn’t so angry at him so she could tell him how great he looked in a suit. Instead, she tried not to look at him and kept quiet. Yvan had tried coaxing conversation out of her without success.

  Trajan stuck close to Cerise talking quietly. Katya, Izrayl, Hamish and Isabelle were loud and rowdy but it seemed to be a little put on to cover the other’s awkwardness. Aleksandra kept to herself and said nothing. Anya wanted to ask what was wrong but she didn’t want to accidentally take her bad mood out on someone else.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” Silvian said as he pulled Anya aside. He looked as fabulous as ever in a royal purple silk shirt and black jeans.

  “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to hurt you when I broke that illusion.”

  “I know. Know that you’re welcome here any time you like.” He took her in his arms and kissed her with a wild abandon. Anya heard a few polite coughs from behind her and Hamish’s full body laughter. She didn’t care.

  “I will miss you even more now,” Anya teased him. He smiled his charming, filthy smile and handed her an envelope.

  “Read it on the plane,” he whispered, “away from the Álfr.”

  “That won’t be hard. I want to stay as far away from him as I ca
n.”

  “Forgive him, Anya. He didn’t know it was going to happen. The consequences are hurting him a lot more than you.”

  “Things are going to get really bad, aren’t they?” she asked, sounding very much like the scared little girl she was.

  “Yes, my darling. Be wary of strange, beautiful Álfr and your grandmother. She was a scary lady when she walked the earth and I doubt her temper has improved much.” He opened the door of the taxi for her and she climbed in. She watched Silvian’s striking figure disappear from view. Aleksandra sat beside her, staring out of the window at nothing.

  “We are a sorry pair,” Anya commented. It was then she noticed the absence of Mychal and knew what was bothering Aleksandra. “He decided not to come?”

  “He didn’t want to leave Budapest,” Aleksandra confirmed before she broke down in tears. Anya unclipped her seat belt, slid across to the middle so she could hug her. “Don’t tell Katya I was like this. She thinks that Mychal and I have some kind of silly relationship. It’s not that at all. If the demons attack him and I see it, I won’t be able to warn him.”

  “You managed to warn him all the way from Skazki,” Anya pointed out.

  “And got demon marked for my troubles.” Aleksandra wiped her eyes and looked embarrassed, “God, I’m an idiot. I don’t even know why I’m crying. So stupid.” She reached into her handbag and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. Anya took one and they sat and smoked in silence all the way to the airport.

  Chapter Twenty-Five- Abélard

  “Isabelle is coming!” Harley said excitedly as Fox entered the workshop.

  “Awesome, you got any Red Bull?” Fox said unenthusiastically as she dumped her backpack on the ground. She opened the grubby fridge and pulled out a can.

  “What’s up, little Fox?”