“I see you’ve also inherited your mother’s sense of humor.”
I snorted. “Much to her chagrin. She hated it.”
Ashton quieted as he sat back, still grinning. “Her humor was the first thing that captivated me when we first met.”
“Was that before or after you signed up with Garrison?”
He had the decency to look at his knees. “After.” He raised his chin, tilted his head and fixed me with an unwavering stare. “But I’m not sure I wouldn’t have signed up with him regardless. Terrell is evil in every sense of the word, but I have yet to regret what we did.”
Something about the statement sent a chill through the carriage, or maybe just through me because there was no change in Ashton or Isaiah.
“You helped a madman.” There was no way to say it without letting anger lace each word.
Ashton nodded very slowly. “Yes. I did.”
His calm horrified me. “You don’t regret that?”
His eyes clashed with mine and held, a battle of wills to see which of us would look away first. Neither of us did.
“I don’t,” he replied evenly. “Would you be here if I hadn’t done what I did?”
I didn’t even know what to say for the longest time. A very large, angry part of me wanted to scream and rage, but what would that solve?
“It’s a trap you know,” I blurted finally, wanting to throw something back in his calm face. “Garrison only lets you take the ones he doesn’t want, or the ones he’s using to get to you.”
Ashton was silent for so long I wondered if he’d heard me. “I know,” he said at long last.
Flabbergasted, I shook my head. “Then why do you do it?”
“I don’t. As I mentioned earlier, I haven’t rescued a child in over a year.”
My temples were beginning to throb. “But before…”
He splayed his long fingers, palm up. “Not regretting what I’d done is one thing, leaving innocent lives to suffer is something else.”
“And the children you did rescue? Where are they now?”
The corner of his mouth tilted. “I see you’ve inherited your mother’s wary distrust as well.” The grin vanished. “I only give them a chance to live their lives.”
My eyebrow lifted, cynicism heavy in my voice when I said, “So you’re like a superhero?”
He had the sense to grimace. “Nothing nearly that glamorous. Every child I take away is one less child Terrell can use in his army. That’s how I see it.”
Like me. I didn’t say it.
“What do you do with them?” That was the hundred dollar question, after all.
“I relocate them; move them to different parts of the world. Give them a new identity and a new start.”
My eyes narrowed. “So you’re like the witness relocation guy?”
His eyes rolled up to the lantern swaying above our heads. “I guess you could look at it that way.”
“So why him?” I jerked my head towards Isaiah. “Why did you bring him home?”
“Because I believed he would be useful and he was.”
The bitter tang of resentment thickened at the back of my throat. Beside me, Isaiah stiffened as well.
“Like protecting me,” I spat out.
“Yes,” Ashton said almost immediately. “I helped create him. I knew what he was capable of and I knew he would keep you safe.”
“He was just a baby!” I shot back, disgusted. “Why didn’t you…” I trailed off, realizing just where that train was leading, straight into my angry, abandoned-little-girl place, and it was too soon for that.
“He was and he wasn’t.” He sat back, folded one leg over the other. “As normal as Isaiah might look on the outside, we all know differently.”
I couldn’t argue with him that point. Isaiah had always kept me safe, had always been there, in the shadows keeping an eye on me. But as sound as Ashton’s reasoning, it continued to feel wrong, because while Isaiah looked ten years old, he’d only been alive for a year. It was because he had aged rapidly after birth, growing ten years in the span of one that had made him seem older.
“He was still just a kid,” I muttered vehemently.
“I would have left regardless of his permission,” Isaiah said, speaking for the first time in what felt like forever. “I was created to be a soldier, Fallon. I was programmed to protect you.”
“Stop that!” I snapped at him. “Stop talking about yourself like you’re some damn robot. You’re a person. I’ve seen you bleed, Isaiah.”
“What I’m trying to say,” he said in that same soft, placating tone. “Is that I have always known what my purpose was, even then. You have always been the most important thing in my life. Ashton had nothing to do with that. If anything, he gave me what I needed to keep you safe.”
I ignored him. He was bias. Nothing would ever mar his golden image of Ashton. I didn’t idolize the guy quite as much. If anything, his blind loyalty to a man that could talk about him as though he weren’t there, as though he were nothing, only amplified my anger.
“You used a little kid to do what you should have done yourself.” And there it was. I said it. I voiced the reason behind seventeen years of resentment towards him. And I wasn’t finished. “You abandoned me, not caring if I lived or died. No. I’m sorry. You sent a ten year old when it should have been you. You should have been there to tell me what the hell was inside me, what you did to me. I have lived for seventeen years not know who, or what I am.” I abruptly broke off, realizing with horror and self-disgust that I was two seconds away from bursting into tears.
Damn it! That wasn’t how I wanted things to start between us. I had wanted to be calm and rational. I had wanted to give him a chance to explain before I accused him. But it was out. It was hanging in the semi darkness of the carriage, hovering over us like the flickering lantern. There was no taking it back.
“Fallon…” Isaiah telepathically reached for me even as his hand did the same.
I jerked away. “Don’t.”
I was still pissed at him.
“You have to understand—”
I glowered at him. “What? That I’m nothing more than a job to you?”
He recoiled as though I’d struck him. “That isn’t true! You know it’s not.”
“Would you even be here if it wasn’t for Garrison?”
It was a question I had asked myself countless times. Did Isaiah really love me? Was his love even real? And even as I told myself it had to be, that not even Garrison was capable of manufacturing a love that strong, I doubted our feelings. Especially when he talked the way he was now, like the only reason he was shackled to me was to keep me safe. Nothing else.
“Fallon—” he murmured my name quietly, the plea in his voice heart wrenching.
I shook my head, staring furiously at the curtains cutting me off from whatever world Ashton had brought me to. The sweat on my palms squished the tighter I clenched my fists in my lap.
“We will work everything okay, Fallon,” Ashton assured me. “There are things you don’t understand right now, and you’re right, that is my fault. I wasn’t there when I should have been, but if you will just let me, I swear to explain everything.”
What could I say? No? Turn the carriage around and take me back to earth? I knew he would if I said it, but I wasn’t running, as much as I wanted to. I wanted answers more. I needed to know. There were too many blank pages in my past and I was tired of being blind.
Then he said something that hit me square in the stomach. “You will never be in the dark again.”
I had been in the dark. My entire life was one dark room and I was always stumbling carelessly for a light. I still wasn’t convinced I could trust him; I had a feeling he knew exactly what I was and what had been done to me. But I was willing—cautiously—to give him a chance.
There was a bang on the ceiling and I jumped. It was followed by Archer’s voice. “We’re at the gates!”
The gates, I noticed when As
hton swept back the curtains, were wrought iron black, bent and twisted to forge an elaborate rose. Overhead, arched over dangerously sharp spikes, the words, Peccato Mortale gleamed in the same warped metal. Ivy wove through the spikes, intermingling until it appeared as though nature had forged a second layer of defense to the already impenetrable wall.
“We’re almost home.” Ashton drew my gaze back to him even before he dropped the curtains back into place over the black and blue world outside the window. “I think we should discuss a few things before we get there.” He shifted closer. His gaze went to Isaiah. “Are there any outward abilities I should know about?”
Isaiah shook his head. “Not since the earthquake.”
A deep frown pulled Ashton’s brows together. “You told me that was severe.”
“Only because of Gaston and Mistral,” Isaiah explained. “There was an incident at a McDonalds, but nothing since.”
Ashton’s confusion only seemed to grow with this last bit of information. “Nothing?”
“Is that bad?” I asked, looking from one to the other.
Ashton met my gaze. “I’m just surprised. That’s all.”
Now it was my turn to frown. “Because I haven’t caused anymore earthquakes?”
“Yes,” he replied simply. “We’ll deal with that later.” He was pressing on before I could ask what exactly we needed to deal with. “No one can know who you are. They cannot know where you come from, or who your mother was, but most importantly, no one can ever know about Terrell. That is so important.”
I frowned. “What am I supposed to say? Who am I?”
He shrugged carelessly. “You are Fallon. Anything beyond that is no one’s concern. It is crucial that your origin remains concealed … for your own safety,” he tacked on as though as an enticement. “You will learn quickly that this world is nothing like yours. You must be careful who you trust. I can’t conceal the scent of your blood—”
“Wait!” I interrupted, putting up a hand. “The scent of my blood? My blood smells?”
“Of course,” he said as though I were an idiot for not realizing it. “You are half human after all and your human half gives off a unique…” he trailed off as he made circular motions with his hand. “Scent,” he finished lamely. “It’s not repulsive, just not something anyone here is used to. At least not directly.”
“And is that a bad thing?” I wondered.
“It can be, but I’m hoping we will remedy the situation soon.” He raised a hand to stop my new flood of questions. “For now, we must focus on Terrell and the importance of keeping him our little secret. If anyone were to ever learn of his existence, of what he can do, both our worlds will cease to exist.”
“What does that even mean?” I wondered.
“It means that there are those amongst us who will see your existence as the key to a war none of us are ready for.” Those dark, intense eyes shot to Isaiah. “As for you, I will find a safe transport back—”
I felt Isaiah stiffen a split second before I did. “Back? Why am I going back?”
Ashton’s tone was razor sharp and serrated with arctic winds. “Because you do not belong here, Isaiah. This is not your world.”
Anger shot through me. “Then you might as well find a way back for both of us, because if he goes, I go.”
“He is mortal, Fallon,” Ashton stressed. “His kind cannot survive here, nor is it allowed. It will be hard enough shielding you with your human half, but him…” He shook his head. “The guard will come for him. They will kill him.”
“It’s fine.” Isaiah put a hand over mine, but his gaze remained firmly fixed on Ashton. “I understand.”
“You do?” I sputtered in disbelief. “Because I don’t.”
Isaiah turned to me. “My mission was to bring you home safely. Nothing else matters.”
There it was again. He was making me sound like a job he couldn’t wait to chuck off.
“That isn’t what I meant,” he muttered darkly.
“Isn’t it? You seem perfectly happy to just dump me here and walk away.”
“Stop putting words in my mouth!” he snapped. “If I can’t stay, what am I supposed to—”
The carriage came to a jerking halt. The horses outside whinnied with displeasure. Their hooves cracked on cobblestone as they reared back.
“Archer?” Ashton called.
A second ticked by, then another. Then Archer’s voice, filled with tight apprehension. “Guards!”
Chapter 5
Ashton was out of his seat in a flash. His eyes were big and bright as they rounded on me. “Stay here. Stay down. Keep quiet.”
He swung the door open before I could think to speak and vanished through. It closed with a resounding click.
Isaiah caught my hand when I reached for the curtain over the window. I shook him off, but didn’t try again, nor did I look at him.
“What is the meaning of this?” we heard Ashton demand from a short distance away. “These are restricted grounds. You have no authority here.”
There was the gritting sound of rusty iron scraping together, the squeal of corroded hinges and parts moving. The ground rumbled. The carriage rattled. Above our heads, the lantern swayed dangerously. I gulped.
“Human traces were detected through the nexus,” came a hollow, tinny voice. It was close. Too close.
“That’s ridiculous,” Ashton replied airily. “What need would I have to transport humans?”
“Human traces were detected through the nexus,” the thing repeated with the same nearly robotic tone.
There was a crunch of weight hitting cobblestone, a muffled grunt and then the rustle of moving leather and clipped footsteps.
“You clearly have no idea who you’re talking to.” It was Archer. He must have leapt down from the bench. “This is an imperial coach and you are trespassing on restricted, unauthorized grounds.”
“Human traces—” I was beginning to think that was the only thing they knew how to say.
“I was topside,” Ashton broke in. “It’s possible I could have picked the trace up by accident.”
“We must be thorough.” I was wrong. Apparently it wasn’t the only thing it could say.
“Absolutely not,” Ashton barked.
“We must be thorough.”
I felt Isaiah stiffen beside me. His fingers closed around my wrist and I was tugged before I could hear the rest of the argument. I looked at him and the urgency on his face. He tugged again and I was dragged off the bench towards the other door. He put a finger to his lips and I wanted to roll my eyes. Like seriously? Did he think I was going to break out in a cabaret song and dance?
With daft fingers, he flipped the little gold lever and pried open the door. He slipped out quietly, glanced left then right before motioning me down. We shut the door behind us and glanced at our surroundings.
We were on a narrow strip of what could have been mistaken for a highway if I hadn’t seen highways all my life. This wasn’t one. It was too unused. The cobblestone trail wound its way through the murky darkness like a pale snake cutting across the ground. Miles of forestry stood guard on either side, hulking black figures rustling in the breeze. The air was muggy and thick with the scent of pine, wet dirt and grease.
I looked at Isaiah. “What now?” I mouthed.
He glanced in the direction of the woods and I knew what he was thinking. We could make a run for it. We could even possibly make it without getting seen. But not when the flaming horses were lighting up the area like the fourth of July. The safest place was the small patch of shadow cast at the back of the carriage were we stood.
We heard the distinct clang of metal feet, the grind of gears as those guard things moved closer. We were running out of time.
Isaiah grabbed my hand and tugged me down until we were kneeling. He nudged me under the carriage. Why not, I thought. It wasn’t like my dress could get any more wrecked than it already was.
I took hold of the copper pipe running
along the base, just beneath the foothold and hefted myself under, monkey-style. Stones cut my thighs and arms, but I ignored it, paying much more attention to not getting seen. Isaiah slipped in after me, the gun grasped tightly in his hand. He slipped that arm over me, aiming it at the three pairs of feet standing mere inches from my face. I edged backward and came up against Isaiah.
The feet closest to me were clad in scuffed boots and I recognized them as Archer’s. Next to him were Ashton’s glossy loafers. Across from them was a pair of shiny, black metal shoes attached to metal legs in the same glossy black. But what caught my attention was the crimson glow that seemed to radiate from beneath the metal. It moved and flickered like a firefly beneath a piece of paper, or the reflection water made on the walls and ceilings of a swimming arena. It seemed to ripple.
“You have no authority here,” Archer was saying when I focused again.
“Human traces were detected through the nexus,” the thing announced once again.
They were never going away, I realized with growing annoyance. The ground was cold and wet and it was soaking into my dress. I was covered in blood, my foot hurt, I had the mother of all headaches drumming between my ears and I was hungry. I was starving, which was driving all the other pains. Everything hurt and the thrum was making me agitated. I hadn’t had Isaiah’s blood in over a month. It was beginning to get to me and I couldn’t allow that.
Careful not to make a sound, I reached up and poked the back of Archer’s boot with a finger. I was putting a lot of stock in the hope that he was smart enough to get that we weren’t in the carriage.
For a moment, he didn’t move or react. He continued to stand there and I wondered if maybe I should poke him again … with a knife. Lucky for him, I didn’t have a knife, but also that he was smarter than he looked.
“Fine.” He shifted aside. A second later, we heard the carriage door swing open. “See? Nothing. Now, can we get on our way?”
The creature drew forward, its every footstep making the pebbles on the ground tremble.
That close, I could feel the heat coming off him. It was like standing too close to an open flame. It was scalding. I nearly hissed as the sting of it burned my face. I squinted at the metal feet inches from my noise and frowned. That close, I could finally see what the glow was and I couldn’t believe it. The metal suit was just that, a suit and it was encasing a body of fire. That’s what the flickering was. The creature was made of fire.
Touching Fire (Touch Saga) Page 6