Stormfront (Undertow Book 2)

by K. R. Conway

  She had been working with Rillin on something he called blinding, and though she wouldn’t say what it was, she seemed excited about its possibilities. She said it had to do with how the Lunaterra palace stayed so well hidden. I was out-of-my-mind curious.

  Of all of us, however, Rillin spent by far the most time with me. At first Raef had insisted on staying in the training room with me, which was Christian’s stunning library, but I found him to be a distraction. Eventually I asked him to leave, and he did so reluctantly.

  At the moment, however, all I wanted to do was take a nap and maybe raid the chocolate box.

  Rillin had given me a short sword after deciding that my Light throwing style from Sandy Neck favored a blade stroke, which was just laughable.

  He said that before I could command my power, I needed to master a weapon that reflected my fighting style and wasn’t going to end up throwing me into another heart attack.

  I got the logic behind his technique of “training,” but I seemed to be a stumbling klutz while attempting to follow the directions of an ex-Templar knight.

  He had laid out several types of weapons, everything from daggers to knight-styled long swords. He gave me the short sword, which was a mini version of a knight’s blade, and I had proceeded to beat on a headless dummy that was on wheels. Rillin would slide it side to side and I would try to strike it. I missed most of the time, and after 90 minutes, I wanted to aim for Rillin, rather than the dummy.

  He sighed, walking over to me as he untied his shirt from his body, tossing it on the ground.

  I studied his powerful body. The scars extended over his chest, with Elizabeth’s set of three deep slashes tracing his side.

  He took the sword from my hand and stepped to the dummy, planting his feet as wide as his shoulders, facing away from me. Covering almost every inch of his back was an owl, its wings spread wide, with the tips of its feathers curling over the tops of his thick shoulders, its talons flared.

  A silent hunter, not unlike the man it was inked to, and who I wanted to strangle.

  He glanced over his shoulder at me, “Grace, Eila. Don’t over think your move. Let your body understand itself and you will bring forth your power, and channel what strength you have to do the most damage.”

  Not likely, but whatever, Jedi Master.

  I watched as he turned back to the dummy and his muscles flexed as he brought the blade to his side, spinning it by the handle. The sword balanced perfectly in his hand, the hilt counterweighted to the shining steel.

  But then he stepped and spun, a full 360 degree turn, bringing the blade into a deadly angle as it met the side of the dummy, cutting the target completely in half in one lightning-fast movement. Ninety minutes I had been hacking away at that thing, and in one sweeping motion, Rillin had cut it in half.

  The severed upper half hit the floor and wobbled over toward my feet, like a lopsided bowling ball. “Show off,” I muttered.

  Rillin looked back at me as he placed the sword among the others and picked up a shorter, narrower sword that had a subtle curve to the blade. The length of the steel was engraved with flowers, and the handle was wrapped in strips of leather. I sighed, “What’s this one called?” I was resigned that I wasn’t getting a break yet.

  “This is a Katana,” said Rillin, handing the beautiful weapon to me, hilt first. “The Samurai used them in combat. They are lighter and the curve allowed a warrior to unsheathe the blade and slice through their enemy in a single sweeping motion. You cannot swing like a bat with this one, so don’t even try it.”

  I already liked the narrow feel of the Katana in my hand and I straightened my arm, holding the sword horizontally in front of me. The sunlight pouring in from the open library window caught the edge of the steel, sending a streak of light across the high ceiling. “I like this one,” I said. “It feels better to me. Lighter. More natural.”

  Rillin stepped around behind me and suddenly I was very aware of his body in the space of the room.

  He reached out over my arm, laying his own massive bicep on top of mine. He curled his scarred hand over my fingers, gripping the sword along with me, and my nerves began to flare. He brought my other arm up to the hilt, and showed me how to use both my hands to hold the Katana. He then took his free hand and pressed it flat to my lower stomach, pinning my back to his front. I jumped when we made contact, but he seemed unfazed.

  His voice vibrated through me when he spoke, and suddenly every inch of my body was alive. “Now step with me,” he said, and he moved to the left, tightening his grip on my stomach and forcing me to move with him, while his other arm guided the Katana to a sweeping side move.

  “You’re fighting the fluidity of it, Eila. You have to trust yourself and your body,” said Rillin, forcing me to step the other way and rotate the blade again.

  “Close your eyes,” he said softly. “Feel your way through the movement, of how your body flexes, and how the air sweeps across the blade.” I did as he said, closing my eyes, and feeling Rillin’s body molded to mine as we stepped back and forth, smoothly like a cat. “Block out the world, Eila. Focus on what you want and what you feel. Command your body to move the way you wish. You are a lyrical form of death. Graceful, precise, and committed to the kill.”

  I did as he said, relaxing into his movements and focusing on my own body. Believing I was like the wind and water, my movements became more fluid, more natural.

  Even with my eyes closed, I began to see the room about me – of how the blade was turning in my hands and how my feet flexed to the floor. I could feel the sun when I stepped into its glorious path, but also the darkened corner of the room, shadowed by the books.

  The edge of my vision began to glitter, like cut crystal, and with my eyes still tightly closed the room came into view, like an artist’s charcoal sketch. It was hauntingly beautiful and my breath caught as my head turned to scan the room, somehow seeing without my eyes. I could even see the remainder of the dummy, standing near me, half destroyed.

  “Do you feel yourself within the space? Can you see yourself moving?” asked Rillin, his voice nearly a whisper.

  I nodded slowly and he carefully released me, but I kept moving side to side, sweeping the blade in a slow, deliberate arc.

  I stepped forward, still moving in the light-footed motion, both my hands gripped tightly to the leather handle and turning in unison. I focused on what I felt, on what I saw even with my eyes closed.

  I was one with the air, with the ground, and with the energy that began to skate across my skin. And then, without conscious decision or command, I took a bold lunge and hauled the blade in a perfect arc, cutting clean through a swath of space in front of me.

  I eased out of my stance and slowly opened my eyes and the near blinding light of the room faded. In front of me was just the pole the dummy had been on, shuddering slightly. Beside it lay my target, completely severed from the stand.

  I turned back to Rillin, breathless with the effort I didn’t realize I had used. “Like that?” I asked, catching my reflection in a massive mirror. The edge of my eyes glowed a brilliant gold, like the outer edge of a solar eclipse.

  “Exactly like that,” said Rillin, and he studied me, as if he was seeing someone else.

  As if he was once again facing Elizabeth.

  59 Raef

  Eila lay in my arms as we watched the subtle movement of her bed’s canopy sway with the night breeze that drifted in through the open balcony doors. The house was quiet, everyone having gone to bed, or tucked into their rooms, reading.

  I listened to the sound of the palm trees rustle and the ocean roll not far from the house, while I twisted a strand of her wet hair through my fingers. We had all gone for a night swim in the glowing pool, trying to unwind from a day of training, and we ended up betting one another which constellations we could identify. At one point, Ana climbed onto Kian’s back and just held on, using him as her own floatation device.

  Eila yawned, rolling more into my c
hest, and I pressed my arm firmly around her back, kissing the top of her head. “You’re tired,” I whispered.

  “Mmm - I’m tired from training and, well, other things,” she replied, drawing circles over my chest that still held faint traces of the Fallen marks. They had been black as ebony a little while ago because of what we had done, and this time Eila hadn’t felt pain. She had let herself go completely as we made love, and I had felt the rush of her heartbeat rocket through my chest, pacing my own.

  I leaned down, kissing her softly on the lips. She sighed and I couldn’t help my need to bring her body into tighter contact with my own. I rolled myself on top of her, careful to keep my weight off of her as I caged in her head with my arms. She was going to attempt to throw her power tomorrow, and it hung like a cloud of doom over my head.

  “Are you sure you want to throw the Light already? There is no rush, you know?” I asked, sweeping her hair back from her face. I knew every one of her freckles and where her skin would flush when she was embarrassed. I knew how she slept, how she laughed, and where her tears tracked when she cried. I knew her, all of her, and adored everything about her.

  Eila nodded and rolled her soft body under mine and my Fallen marks darkened once again. “You worry too much,” she whispered, bringing her lips in contact with mine, quickly escalating a polite kiss into a fiery one. God, I could never get enough of her, but even with her pinned under me, her safety was paramount.

  “I can never worry enough about you,” I replied, locking her delicate wrists in my hand and dragging them slowly above her head, kissing the ticklish spot on her smooth neck. She laughed and squirmed against me, effectively revving my need into high gear. Her giggles faded into deep, slow drags of air as I trekked my lips down from her neck to her scar.

  I drew my hand down her body to her hip as she breathed my name, but then a door slammed in the direction of Ana’s room. We snapped out of our moment and glanced to the bedroom door, listening. Then I heard delicate footsteps marching past Eila’s door, heading for the third floor staircase . . . and Ana, softly crying. E heard it too, causing her to scramble out from under me, and I quickly pulled on a pair of pants while she flung on a top and boxers.

  We managed to get out the bedroom door and nearly collided with Rillin, who must have also heard Ana with his supernatural hearing. He gave me a knowing glare, but kept his mouth shut.

  “Where’s Christian?” I asked. I wasn’t going to hide the fact that I was sleeping with Eila, nor was I ashamed of making love to the girl I adored, but this was not the way for Christian to find out.

  “He went back to Freeport to try and pick off Garrett’s nephew,” said Rillin. He motioned in the direction Ana had gone, “Are you two checking on her?” We both nodded, leaving Rillin standing in the hall as we jogged for the stairs and whatever was going on above us.

  As we reached the third floor hallway, Eila yanked me back and put a finger to her lips to signal me to be quiet. Ana had not seen us, and she stood before Kian’s door holding a piece of paper in her hands, as if debating whether or not to knock.

  She roughly rubbed away her tears and raised her hand to the door, but it suddenly opened. Kian, dressed only in a pair of cotton pants, stepped out to her the moment he saw her wet cheeks. “Pix? What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

  Ana fingered the paper in her hand, looking down at it as she gave a small sniff, “I was using the laptop in my room just now. The one from Cerberus. And I saw this picture.”

  Kian swallowed and slowly took the paper from her, looking down at whatever was printed on the page. “I, uh, meant to tell you. I was going to take you by the cemetery to see it, but things got messed up so fast, and we had to leave. I’ll have the workers remove it if you don’t like it,” he said, shifting on his feet, as if guilty of a crime. “I’m sorry I upset you. That wasn’t my intention. The cemetery said that it was going to take so long to replace his stone and I knew I could get it done faster. I knew I could give your Dad a nice stone like you always wanted to.” Kian carefully folded the paper and handed it back to Ana, who nodded slowly.

  I realized then that they were discussing Ana’s father’s headstone, which Kian had apparently replaced. I was stunned he had done such a thing. To honor a man who had treated her so badly must have been the hardest thing for Kian to do, but he did it, for Ana. He did it because he would walk through fire if she asked.

  “I’m not upset,” said Ana drawing a trembling breath.

  Kian reached out and gently wrapped his hand around her narrow wrist. “Pix – but you’re crying,” he whispered.

  She nodded, reaching her hand up to his brow and tracing down the side of his face as he watched her intently. She rose up on her tip-toes and cautiously pulled him down to her as she brought her lips to his, and I felt Eila’s hand grip mine. Kian seemed too stunned to react for a moment, but then he finally gathered his arms around her, lifting her off the ground as he kissed her back. But then Ana began to cry freely.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered through her gasps, beginning to truly sob. She told him she was sorry for blaming him for her father’s death. Sorry that she sent him away and treated him so badly when he had returned.

  Kian gently tried to calm her, telling her it was okay. That everything would be all right and that he loved her. He pressed his back against the edge of the doorframe and slowly sank to the floor with Ana in his arms, holding her tightly as he kissed her tears and her lips.

  I pulled Eila carefully to my side and she rested her head against my shoulder, wiping a stray tear from her own face. As we quietly backed down the stairs, leaving Ana and Kian alone in one another’s arms, I heard Ana whisper to my brother that she loved him.

  Forever.

  60 Eila

  I watched as the pieces of literary confetti floated down around us, and cringed. I had correctly thrown the Light for the first time in my life, and had a pretty solid command of the energy.

  Unfortunately, Rillin underestimated the damage I was capable of, and Christian’s wall of books paid the ultimate price. I had called the Light, remembering the feeling of the Katana sword in my hand from the day before and how I saw without really seeing. I felt the energy travel through my body and thunder to my palms as I swung my hands as if I was slicing the air with the sword.

  The Light had exploded from my hands, like a curved blade, and Rillin dove for the floor when it flew past him, smashing into the bookcase, causing the classics to explode. The ornate bookshelf had groaned as it leaned, and the entire top section tipped over and crashed to the ground.

  Rillin was getting to his feet just as Raef and my friends burst through the library doors. They had all been waiting outside at my request, and now they took in the destruction of the room, with Rillin and I standing in the center. “What in the heck happened?” demanded MJ, picking up a torn page that had fluttered to the ground near him.

  Ana slid some of the broken books aside with her bare foot, “Jeez, Eila! You just murdered Steinbeck!”

  “Hey! I didn’t know I could do that!” I said defensively, pointing to the now obliterated bookshelf. I turned to Rillin, “Did YOU know I could do that?”

  Rillin shook his head as he dusted more paper shreds from his shoulder. “No. That was, well, unexpected.”

  “Unexpected? UNEXPECTED! I just destroyed Christian’s friggin’ library! Mae will be here in a few hours and look at this place!” I yelled. Raef came up next to me and seemed to be looking me over for any damage. He placed his hand to my neck, checking my pulse. “I just burned books,” I mumbled and Raef smiled.

  “We will replace them and I can fix the bookshelf. Were you able to control it?” he asked, somewhat dubious given the room’s current state of destruction.

  “I was able to form it and throw it, if that’s what you mean. I just didn’t think it would wreck the house.” I turned to Rillin, who was inspecting the broken bookshelf. “How did I do this type of damage? I thought my abil
ity was limited to damaging soul thieves, not demolition work.”

  Rillin turned back to me, “You took out a sizable portion of the Breakers.”

  “Yeah, but that was a Core Collapse. Isn’t that standard when that happens?” I asked.

  Rillin shook his head. “No, but I wasn’t sure what exactly went down in the Breakers – if there was another aspect to your light show that I didn’t quite understand. But this . . . ,” he gestured to the destruction. “This is a different kind of power and it has to be related to what you are as a hybrid. I suspect you channel more than the Web of Souls. More than simply the energy living souls give off to one another. Like your scar, however, I suspect Light casting might be a bit more complicated for you. As both a Mortis and a Lunaterra, you basically damage yourself when you correctly wield the Light. My guess is that is why your hands are now bleeding.”

  I took a startled step back and Raef grabbed my hands, “Eila! You are bleeding!”

  He uncurled my fingers to reveal a knife-like slash across the palm of each hand. Raef yanked his shirt over his head and pressed the fabric into my palms to stop the bleeding and I winced.

  “Sorry,” he said to me, quietly, then turned angrily at Rillin. “Did you know this would happen?”

  “I wasn’t sure. It was a possibility. It should heal quickly, but I need to figure out if there is a way to keep her power from rebounding on her,” replied Rillin, pushing aside a tattered book with his foot.

  “Damaging my granddaughter was not part of the training deal, Mr. Blackwood,” said Christian from the library entrance. I didn’t even realize he had come back from Freeport.

  “Uh, sorry about your books. Did you get your guy?” I asked him.

  “I did, but we have a problem. The FBI is in Freeport investigating the beheading of Mr. Garrett, who they had been watching for his drug-trafficking connections. Howe is with them, which is not a good sign. If he has been reinstated, and he is part of the investigation, then there must be a connection back to you two! Which one of you two saw fit to rip the man’s head off?” demanded Christian, glaring at Kian and Raef.