“What idea?”
“Of…you know.”
“A dead guy living in her house?”
She scrutinized his body. He was walking better, without a limp like before. “Have you healed at all?”
He shook his head.
“Well, are you still in pain? You don’t seem to be.” She stepped toward him.
He backed away.
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He shrugged. “I’m just…I don’t know.”
“You can talk to me, Jay.”
“Yeah. I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Do you think it’s true, what they said about me?”
She let out a long sigh. “I really don’t know. All of us are a little—”
“Freaked out?”
“I was going to say confused, but thanks for putting words in my mouth.”
He dropped his shoulders. “Sorry.”
“Can I take a look?” She gestured to his chest.
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” She reached toward him. “I just want to see—”
He stepped back. “Stay away from me, Zanya. I mean it. I don’t want to hurt you.” He hung his head. “I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Never mind.”
“To hell with that. I dragged your ass back from the underworld and then vouched for you to Renato. So if there’s something I should know, you need to tell me.”
He exhaled. “I…” He swallowed. “Look.” He slowly dragged his sleeve up his arm, exposing long, deep gashes.
Zanya gasped. “What did you do?”
“Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt.” He yanked his sleeve back down. “Nothing hurts. Not anymore. I’m a monster, Zanya. I’m not even alive.” His jaw flexed. “I had to find out for myself.”
“You did that?” She pressed her fingers over her mouth.
“It only hurt at first, but when I stopped thinking about it…” He shook his head. “It just didn’t anymore. Do you think I’ll…?” He avoided eye contact for a moment, and then gathered the courage to meet her gaze. “Do you think I’ll start to…?” He rubbed his eyes. “Damn it. Do you think I’ll start to rot or something?”
Zanya’s lips parted. “Oh, that wouldn’t be good.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“Um…I…” Jayden had always been so confident, usually to the point of arrogance. Now he was like a child who needed to be shielded from the world. He was searching for some kind of comfort, and all she could do was sputter like a moron. “Look.” She took his hand. His fingers were like ice, and she resisted the urge to pull away. “I know you’re scared, but everything’s going to be okay. I’ll keep healing you. Every day if I have to.”
His features softened. “Thanks, Zanya.”
“Of course.” She yawned. “You want to crash out in my room tonight? You can sleep on the weird, curvy couch thing over there.” She pointed toward the white chaise on the far side of her room.
He grinned. “As tempting as that is, I think I’ll sleep in my bed. Besides, I’m sure Arnie and the healer will wonder where I am if I’m not in the west wing where they can keep an eye on me.”
He had a point. Everyone was on edge. “All right. Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yep.” He opened the door and moved into the hall. “So, that healing session you mentioned. Tomorrow morning?” His grin widened.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Milk it, because it’s only going to last so long.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
“Good-bye, Jay.”
When she tried to shut the door, he stopped it and stuck his head back in her room. “Hey. One more thing.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “Thanks for coming for me.”
She smirked. “You owe me. You know that, right?”
He withdrew his hand, winked, and shut the door, leaving her alone in her room. Thank God, because she needed to get some rest. Tomorrow would be a big day—the day they started on their to-do list.
One. Go to Drina’s house and ask her to examine the pages from the Popol Vuh.
Two. Find out how and why Jayden had become the walking dead.
Three. Train.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, Zanya stretched in the sun beaming through her bedroom window, buried beneath down blankets. She sat up and twisted her hair into a bun. They’d spent so much time traveling and sleeping in strange places, it was good to wake up somewhere that was simply hers. She stood and slipped on her robe before heading downstairs.
Everything about the house was familiar. Nostalgia filled her as she wove through the halls and down the winding staircase.
The French doors creaked open in the kitchen. Maybe it was Tara. If Zanya were lucky, she was late enough to have missed Peter’s horrible daily pancake breakfast.
When she turned into the kitchen, the doors leading to the veranda hung open. “Hello?” She walked toward them and poked her head outside. Gulls screamed in the sky and the waves crashed on the coast. “Tara?”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
She sensed someone behind her. Someone who shouldn’t be there. Electricity sparked over her skin when the light in her chest jumped to life.
“I see you’re still learning to control your abilities.” The woman’s voice was familiar.
Zanya’s breath stalled. She swallowed and then slowly turned. The heat drained from her cheeks at the sight of the woman with brown hair and wolf-gray eyes standing in the kitchen. She stood like a warrior, her stance gaped and chin tilted up. Her dark hair was pulled back, showcasing sharp cheekbones and long lashes. Her fitted shirt and pants were ordinary enough, except the armored shields on her forearms, thighs, and shins. Were the shields made of…rubber?
Zanya dropped her hand from the doorknob. This couldn’t be happening. Her mother was dead—killed by Sarian years ago.
A rush of sick heat tore through her gut. There was another possibility—the only other possibility.
Contessa.
Zanya curled her fingers into a fist, charging an electrical pulse in her palm. “You must think I’m really stupid.” She’d shock the temptress bitch until she couldn’t breathe.
The woman raised her hands. “I know this is a shock to you.”
“Not as much as it’ll be to you.” She spun and swung a heavy right hook.
The woman leapt to the side and pulled a baton from her belt. “You need to calm down.”
Zanya snarled and shot an electric orb straight at the impostor’s chest. The woman used a shield mounted to her forearm to deflect the attack. “Zanya, stop it. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You shouldn’t have come here, Contessa.” Zanya gathered tension in her muscles to strike with deadly force. She still hadn’t mastered the strength Renato held, but she was sure she could pound the witch into the ground if she tried.
The woman ground her teeth and gripped her weapon tighter. “I’m not Contessa, and I’m not here to hurt you. Believe me.”
“Go to hell!” Zanya swung hard, barely missing the witch when she ducked out of the way.
The woman struck Zanya in the stomach with her baton. The blow knocked the air from her lungs and doubled her over. Zanya gasped and coughed, forcing herself to draw in a breath as she looked up.
“Damn it!” The woman lowered her weapon, staring down at Zanya with a sharp gaze. “I didn’t want to do that.”
Renato skidded into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway, gawking at them with wide eyes. “Ellie?”
The woman stepped in front of Zanya in a defensive posture.
“No!” Zanya wheezed, reaching for Renato. “It’s not her.”
The woman spun around and glared down at Zanya. “Search my mind if you don’t believe it’s me.” She extended her hand. “Use your abilities, and it’ll prove I’m not that black-hearted whore.�
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The room fell silent as Zanya slowly stood up straight. She searched the woman’s face. “Fine.” If she were lying, Zanya would shock her hard enough to stop her heart.
Zanya grasped the woman’s forearm and opened her mind, peering into the woman’s eyes. So far, she had only used her mental abilities to seek like Jayden and communicate like Marzena. With her stone tucked away upstairs, she would have to pull this off on her own.
It took focus, but Zanya found the power deep within. She pushed through the mental barrier into the woman’s subconscious.
The memory of her mother’s gentle smile washed over her. Her calm, confident gaze. Her gentle touch. Her mother’s spirit shone bright from behind the woman’s now-cold, calculating stare.
Zanya gasped and yanked her hand back.
“There.” Her mother nodded and slid the baton back into its holder. “Now you can stop trying to kill me.” She stepped around Zanya and shut the French doors, then pulled the curtains closed.
“Wait.” Zanya swallowed, anxiety bubbling in her chest. “How is this—?”
“Are we safe here?” She turned to Renato, who seemed even more stunned than Zanya. “Where are the others?”
Her mother seemed so different—her features sleek and sharp, and her hair pulled back in a high ponytail. It was really her, but Zanya hardly recognized this woman compared to the mother she had once met.
Eleuia’s brow turned down. “Why isn’t anyone answering me?” She rested her hands on Zanya’s shoulders. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“Hurt? No.” Her mind reeled. “Mom…how are you here?”
Her mother paused. “It’s a long story, but right now we have to secure the house.”
Zanya threw her arms around her mother and hugged her as tight as she could. “I thought I’d never see you again.” Her voice quivered as she held back tears.
Her mom hugged her back, though only briefly. “We have to move. We’re in danger.”
Zanya pulled away. “Why?”
Renato scooped her off the floor with a hug. “My God, it’s a miracle.”
“I’m afraid not,” Eleuia said as Renato set her back down. “We need to get Zanya to a safe place.”
“How are you here? What’s going on?” Zanya said, desperate for an explanation.
“Do you have the stone?” her mother asked.
“It’s in my bedroom.”
Eleuia’s jaw flexed. “You should carry it with you at all times. We have to get it, then get out of here as quickly as we can.” She grabbed Zanya’s wrist.
Zanya glanced over her shoulder at Renato as her mother dragged her toward the stairs. “She doesn’t know,” Zanya said, glancing over her shoulder at Renato. She dug her heels into the ground and stopped her mother from pulling her any farther. “Mom, Sarian is dead.”
Her mother froze. “Dead?”
Zanya nodded. “He was killed right in front of me.”
Her face paled. “This is worse than I thought.”
Zanya’s eyebrows arched. “I don’t understand. I thought you’d be—”
Arwan walked into the foyer.
Her mother pulled a blade from a scabbard tucked in her boot and extended the knife. “You.”
Zanya moved between them. “What are you doing? He’s not—”
“Get out of the way, Zanya!” Her mother jerked her back and lunged at Arwan with the blade. “I’ll kill you!”
Arwan’s eyes widened, and he leaped to the side. Renato grasped at Eleuia. “Ellie, no!”
She sliced at Arwan, her eyes lit with fury. “You bastard!” She lunged at him again. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched it back, locking her arm behind her. The knife clattered to the floor. Ellie spun and kicked him in the chest, and Arwan slammed into the railing. He grabbed on to the wood and pulled himself upright as Renato snatched the knife from the floor. “Ellie, stop this!”
She reached to her belt for a black handle. It was a gun—one Zanya hadn’t noticed until now.
Her lips parted. She really meant to kill him.
Her mother pulled the pistol and took aim. Zanya threw out a shield, knocking Eleuia to the floor and Arwan even harder against the far wall. The gun skidded across the hardwood to Zanya’s feet, and she picked it up. The weight of the cold metal made her heart race even faster.
“Let me take that.” Renato slowly removed the pistol from her hand.
Arwan righted himself, his gaze flickering between Zanya and her mother.
The chaos was just too much. She’d just woken up. She hadn’t even had her first cup of coffee, for God’s sake. “Someone better tell me what the hell is going on!” Zanya should have been able to enjoy the fact that her mother was back from the dead. Instead, Eleuia had come back as a cold woman with a chip on her shoulder.
Eleuia slowly picked herself off the floor, and the sharpness in her gaze deepened Zanya’s guilt. “I’m sorry, Mom, but you almost killed him.”
“I’d be doing you a favor.” Eleuia grabbed the knife from Renato’s hand and shoved it back into its sheath. She extended her hand, waiting for her gun.
Renato ejected the clip and cocked it, releasing the single bullet from the chamber. He slowly set the piece in her hand.
She snatched it, glaring. “Mind telling me why the hell that thing is in our house, near my daughter? You were supposed to protect her from his kind.”
“Ellie, he isn’t who you believe him to be.”
“Oh really?” She let out a haughty laugh. “So he’s not the heir to the underworld? He’s not a monster?” Her eyes narrowed. “I know, Renato. I know much more than you’re giving me credit for.”
Zanya’s gut rolled and pitched. Her gaze rested on Arwan as her stomach clenched. She swallowed down the saliva pooled under her tongue. “What is she talking about?”
He analyzed her apprehensive stance, and nodded. “It’s true. I am.” A tremor ran up his arm. “I am all of those things. And worse.”
“See.” Eleuia stepped beside Zanya. “He’s not even trying to deny it.” She looked toward Renato. “And you knew all along. This is how you protect her?”
Renato analyzed Eleuia with a sober stare. “You are out of line, Ellie. He may be the rightful heir, but he is not like them. He never has been. You have no idea—”
“Heir to what, exactly?” Zanya’s gaze darted between them.
Renato shook his head. “It’s not how it sounds.”
“Yes.” Arwan clenched and unclenched his fist. “Yes it is. Zanya has the right to know who I am.” He met her gaze. “I should tell her myself. I should have told her a long time ago.” When he stepped forward, Zanya’s breath caught in her throat. “She deserves that much.”
“Arwan…” Her heart ached as she hoped this was all a huge mistake.
“I wanted to tell you, to be honest with you from the start.” His chest rose as he drew in a breath. “I’m so sorry, Zanya. I am who they say I am. Heir to the throne of the underworld, son of the king. I hate it—hate myself for it—but I can’t keep running away.”
“It’s too late for confessions, you mongrel half-breed.” Eleuia’s arms were thin and lean, but the armor made her look fierce. “You have never belonged here, and I’ll be damned to the world you came from if I escaped Sarian’s capture just to watch you pollute my only daughter.” She pulled a second pistol from a hidden holster in her belt.
“Mom.” Zanya extended her hands. “You can’t be serious.”
“Try to stop me again, Zanya, and I’ll put a hole in his heart.” She glared at Arwan. “Apparently I’m the only one left with any sense. This boy—this creature—is only going to destroy you. He’s dark. Riyata and underworlders have been enemies since time began, and for good reason.”
“He’s not like that.” She inched forward. Maybe she could snatch the gun from her mother’s grip before it was too late.
Eleuia took aim.
“No!” Renato jumped into the path of the bullet just before
the gunshot rang through the house. The bullet struck him in the shoulder but didn’t stop him from tackling her mother to the floor.
“Let go of me!” Eleuia screamed, struggling to twist out of Renato’s grasp as blood tricked down his arm. “You let him in here! You let that thing in our house!”
“So help me, Ellie. If you do not calm down, I will be forced to do something I would otherwise never do.”
Zanya turned back to Arwan, but he was gone. The French door in the kitchen hung open, the breeze tossing the curtains side to side.
Chapter Eighteen
Zanya sat near Renato’s desk, listening to her mom and Renato bicker in the back of the study. It had been almost impossible to sleep the night before while knowing her mother was in the house and Arwan still hadn’t returned. She had so many questions, but she’d have to wait until they stopped arguing to get a word in edgewise.
“How could you let this happen?” Eleuia whispered harshly.
“Now wait a moment.” Renato lifted his hand, but Eleuia slapped it away.
“I’m the guardian for centuries, and as soon as I leave, there is an underworld half-breed living in my house?”
She’d had just about enough of this “underworld half-breed” crap. If they weren’t going to offer her the answers she needed, she’d have to take them.
Zanya stood and stalked toward them. Of course they were so focused on each other, they didn’t even notice her approach. If only she could go back to the first time she’d met her mother—back when Arwan had bent time and risked his life to save Tara and retrieve the stone. Her mother should have been thanking him.
Zanya paused beside the bickering pair and waiting for her opportunity to speak. She eyed Renato’s shoulder. The wound seemed to be healing quickly, thanks to Peter’s handiwork. The fact it was only a flesh wound helped. Still, her mother didn’t seem at all apologetic for the accident.
Her uncle pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you would stop being so stubborn and just listen to what I have to say—”
“Hey, guys…” Neither of them looked at her.
“Right, so you can keep telling me how he’s really a good guy?”
Lights of Aurora (The Stone Legacy Series Book 3) Page 13