When Fate Aligns: Book One of The Mortals and Mystics Series

by A. K. Koonce

  Why did I let him kiss me?

  It wasn’t the same as when Ayden kissed me. I thought the simple, relaxed feeling I felt with Ayden was normal, but, after experiencing the opposite of relaxed last night, I know there’s more than just friendship between Asher and myself. Why did I even allow myself to become close to him?

  “Have you always loved my mother?” I blurt out, attempting to distract the building anxiety in my chest.

  “Always,” he says without hesitation or thought.

  I try to sift through the emotional mess that swarms my mind and body.

  “How did you know?”

  Ky stops and thinks for a moment, his eyes shining under the sun like he’s lost in a memory. A smile threatens to form on his lips. He rests his arm on my shoulders, and I lean into him as I listen.

  “I knew the moment I had to walk away from her. It tore me apart leaving her in that camp when I entered the military. The feelings only grew when I returned and realized nothing would ever change for us. Not life and not love. But she makes this world we have to live in so much brighter just by being here. There’s a spark in me that she put there.”

  He stops walking and looks at me as his words hammer into my chest. “Don’t ever ignore that spark, Fallon. If it’s there, hold on to it. Some people go their whole lives stumbling alone through the darkness.”

  He smirks at me, knowing I’m processing his advice. He shakes his hand over my hair like he did when I was a kid.

  What he said wasn’t at all what I expected. It’s like he loves my mother more than the friendship they’ve always kept with each other. Do I feel that way with Asher? My heart thrums in my chest. Is this what a spark feels like?

  I think about confusing sparks and darkness as we continue to walk in silence. After another mile, we stop for a short break again. My mind is a mess and not even a five-minute break will help clear it. I walk away from Ky and try to act like my life isn’t teetering on the edge of a cliff on a windy day.

  Sunlight filters in through the dry leaves clinging to the branches above. Ky takes a spot on a boulder, his metal prosthetic laying at his side while he massages his limb just below his knee. Pain is etched across the strong angles of his face, but he doesn’t say a word.

  My mother leans her head against his shoulder, her light skin to his dark. They’re opposites in every way and complement each other perfectly. Worry marks her face as she watches him. Her worry is consuming her the way Ky’s unspoken hurt is consuming him.

  We’re close to our destination. No one has actually said this, but I can feel it. We’ve stopped running as much, and we’ve taken more breaks over the last two days.

  My mother leaves Ky’s side and slowly walks toward me, leaves crunching under her boots. Asher, who stands at my side, seems to take note of the closeness my mother has created as she leans against a tree next to me. Asher looks from me to her. He walks a few yards and turn away from us. Near enough to hear us with his heightened senses, but far enough away to give the illusion of privacy.

  “I need to be honest with you.” She pauses, not looking at me, but touching my arm gently. “I know I’ve gone about all of this in a strange way. I just wanted you to have an open mind. To not feel pressured into your future.”

  My future? She’s now looking intently at me, searching my eyes for acceptance and kindness for what she’s about to confess.

  “What are you saying, Mom?” I ask in a whisper.

  Ky tilts his head up subtly, watching us. Asher hasn’t moved from within the forest. Ripper gives a low growl from where he’s curled up at my feet. Everyone takes notice and stands on edge for what she’s about to say.

  “Asher’s twin brother was Micah,” she says slowly, searching my eyes. “I helped Asher escape in hopes to forge your union papers and give you the chance at a real future. A choice of your own.”

  Her words drill into me all at once, and the air leaves my lungs.

  “Micah was assigned to work on a farm and you were assigned to be a veterinarian. It would be simple for the two of you to live a happy and secluded life alone. I didn’t tell you the plan because I didn’t want to force a union on you the way our government does everyone else. I wanted you to have the choice to like Asher. If you two hated each other, we would still take him home to his family. But if you liked him, if you two formed a bond together, then there are possibilities for you both.”

  Ky begins humming a low melody as if he’s oblivious to us. Ripper continues with his low growl; the dog’s throaty vibrating noise is filling my mind as my mother’s information streams in like a flood.

  Asher was willing to falsify his identity to help me?

  “It wouldn’t be an easy life, but it’d be more of a life than the camp or compound will ever be for either of you. It could be a happy life. A hopeful life,” she says, still trying to trigger a response.

  Hope. It’s the one thing that stands out among all her words. Asher and I could build a life together out of hope. Hope could hold us together against the rules and the laws of our lives, but it would be a weak foundation. A teetering, balancing act. We would have to be strong together to make it work. But we are already strong together.

  Asher makes me a less weak person. A better person.

  His first words come swinging back to me. Be sure. Be sure of my choices. Be sure of us. Be sure of myself.

  I look back at where Asher stands; the morning sun casts around him in an ethereal way. He’s listening, waiting for my response.

  The panes of his back are tense, stretching the fabric of his shirt. The muted orange lighting of the sun shines over him. The angel God sent to save me. The broken angel I’ve risked everything for. I was willing to waste my life for his, and all this time he’s been risking his own for me.

  A smile tugs at my lips, and I’m just about to respond to my mother when Ripper’s bark echoes loudly off the surrounding cliff walls.

  My eyes flash to the little animal barking aggressively at my feet, teeth bared. I turn, searching the deadly silent woods to find something that stills my heart in my chest.

  An elongated figure stands on the rocks, its thin human-like body appears unnaturally stretched, making its presence loom over us. Its gray skin is stretched over long limbs, its odd coloring allowing it to blend into its surroundings. Big fly-like eyes fill its face.

  It only takes seconds. With the time it takes me to realize hope is no longer something floating through my mind, the creature takes one long, clawed hand and picks up Ky’s metal running blade from beside him and rams the curved, blunt edge through the back of Ky’s neck. It bursts through his throat.

  Ky’s kind eyes widen alarmingly at the running blade protruding through his bloody and mangled throat in front of his face. His mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out.

  I watch in horror as the pain leaves Ky’s face, a sense of relaxation settling into his lifeless body. My mother’s shuddering scream is heard next to me, but I can’t take my eyes off of Ky or the willowy beast before me, its head tilting to one side as it inspects its work.

  It takes me a moment to realize Asher has brushed passed me, the Crimson Sword held low in his steady hand.

  In one swift leap, the creature is on Asher, bringing with it another veil that crawls down the cliff with spider-like movements. Asher plummets to the forest floor with the veil, the creature’s long limbs pulling him down to the ground.

  I look to my mother for guidance, but her tearful eyes never leave Ky’s lifeless body. Reaching for the gun at my hip, I aim and fire at the veil climbing quickly down the cliff. My aim is perfect, hitting it square in the back, but it has the opposite effect I was hoping for. Instead of killing the creature, it falls immediately to the ground and gets right back up with just a small shriek as it turns toward us.

  My heart stumbles in my chest the closer it comes to us.

  Asher sees the other monster just as another begins to climb down the jagged rock wall. Terror fills m
y mind as I fire uselessly into the veil’s chest with little effect.

  As panic strangles my lungs, Gabriel falls from the cliff in a stumbling and harsh landing. I can’t help but wonder if he’ll assist in killing his friend.

  The veil thrashes through the dry leaves, and I lift my arms protectively as its claws rise to strike me. But it shrieks out in pain, its mouth wide open as its voice grows smaller by the second. It falls strangely to the ground, and just behind it stands Gabriel with a large, inky-black heart in his fist.

  I stare in horror at the gaping and bloody hole in the veil’s back where its soul once was.

  “Fallon, take your mother and run,” Asher says as he plunges his sword into the veil’s chest. Another creature makes its way quickly toward us. “Don’t stop running.” k`1~2

  I grab my mother’s shaking hand and fumble backward a few steps, forcing her to move with me, before racing through the trees at a pace I wasn’t aware I could manage. The two of us fling dirt and leaves in our wake, and my mother’s sobbing is all I can hear. Ky’s shocked expression keeps flashing in my mind with every step I take.

  A high shriek is heard in the distance behind us, but my feet never falter. My cluttered mind doesn’t affect my physical instinct to survive. Asher’s command controls my body with each mile we run.

  I’ll never stop running.

  Chapter Twelve

  Coming Home

  Asher’s body slams into mine, halting my scrambling limbs and pulling my body to his. My reaction is brash. I respond instinctually without thought. Out of fear, I punch him, my fist striking against his perfect face. Pain rushes into my fist as soon as I make contact. I stumble away from his grip, my feet slipping against the leaves to get away just as realization sets in.

  My mother stands unmoving behind me, her uneven breath filled with unshed tears. Ripper pants at my feet. Asher’s tongue darts out and licks his lip where I hit him, the split in his bottom lip already healing before blood even appears.

  Guilt reaches the edges of my mind for a moment for hitting him, but the hurt of what happened to Ky washes all other emotions away. The hurt fills my lungs and pushes against the cavity of my chest. My throat is tight, and tears burn my eyes.

  Asher slowly reaches out for me, my arms hanging at my sides, the pain in my fist completely forgotten. His body envelopes mine. His arms wrap around me, his warmth pushing the pain to the edges, trying to fade it away, but my mind won’t allow it. He pushes strands of hair from my face and holds me to him.

  His white shirt is torn and dirty. Black blood drips down the length of the sword at his narrow waist; the thick tarry substance splatters against his dark boots. I try to focus on the details of his appearance rather than the memory of Ky.

  I take a deep breath, tears still streaming down my face, and release his embrace. He searches my eyes, but slowly lets me go. My feet gravitate toward my mother, who looks around the forest like the trees might tell her how to move forward, might guide her through life without her best friend.

  Her body trembles for breath. She bites her lip as tears streak her face. In that moment, I realize how young she really is. How broken the world has left her. I wrap my arms around her delicate shoulders. She shakes her head against mine, not agreeing with what has already happened.

  I stroke her tangled hair through my fingers as we cry as two women who have lost the only man who’s ever cared about them. He was like a father to me. And now he’s gone. An emptiness grows in my chest, knowing I’ll never see him again. He’ll never see me grow up, grow into the woman he helped me become.

  “I …” Her voice shakes; her heavy, trembling breath is warm against my shoulder. She takes a deep uneven breath into my shirt. “I loved him.” Her voice is like a muffled realization.

  I loved him, too. But it’s the first time my mother has ever said it, and I know what she means. She was in love with her best friend. Her friend who risked, and lost, his life because he supported her in everything she did. Because he was always there for her. Because he’d do anything for us, for her. Because he loved her.

  ***

  Somehow we manage to start moving and continue on. We don’t run. We walk in trudging steps, the ground pulling our boots with every small step we take. We don’t speak. I don’t ask Asher if the veil is still out there, though based on the unhuman blood all over him, I don’t think it is. A satisfying feeling washes over me at the thought of Asher killing the creature that took Ky away from us.

  I swallow hard at the thought of Ky’s lifeless body left alone within the woods. The last memory I have of him is tainted and dark.

  My mother and I walk side by side. Her arms are wrapped around herself, but her face is tense. She’s determined, and her strength shows in every step she takes.

  Asher walks at my side. I catch him glancing down at me from time to time, but no one dares to break the silence. We let it grow into a living thing that follows us around. If we spoke, we might fall apart. If words had to replace the focus I have in keeping my feet moving, I might actually fall. A warm hand slips into mine; Asher’s fingers laces through mine. A vague comfort settles in my chest from the small contact.

  The sun has started to set on the horizon. Our steps become slower and slower. I want to ask how much farther we have to go to get Asher home, but I’m too tired to speak.

  We should just stop. What’s the point of a union? Why obey the law at all? I’ve followed the rules my entire life and what a waste of life it has been. My eyes fill with water again, and I blink back the tears.

  Asher leads us up to an abandoned house on a hill. We’re not in a town; it’s just a few yards from the tree line. All the windows are busted out, and there are gaping holes in the siding, allowing us to see the interior walls. A tree has taken root through the concrete porch, cracking and pushing at the angled foundation. Its bare limbs reach out to us, cryptically inviting us in. Not even a door welcomes us from the rusty hinges.

  I look around nervously, unsure if the structure is safe enough for us to take shelter in, even for just a few hours.

  Asher wraps his arm around my waist, his body warming mine. The gesture is sweet, but my mind doesn’t really process it at all and my arms just hang loosely at my sides. He pulls me closer as he guides me into the run-down house. My mother doesn’t seem worried and walks into the house without hesitation, Ripper following at her heels.

  I look around at the dark setting. The dirty wall paper is torn in long shreds and hangs haphazardly from the wall. Some walls are bare to the studs, and there are holes in the wooden floor large enough for a person to fit through. A tangle of weeds is visible below. I keep an eye on Ripper as he clings close to my feet. My steps echo mutely through the dark, hollow house, my unsure steps brushing against the dirty boards.

  Asher pulls me through the eerie house to the back where a lone refrigerator stands in an empty kitchen. It’s an old style—all one tall piece without any separation for the freezer or refrigerator. The room is void of any other appliances, and the whole house appears to have been stripped of any other possessions long ago.

  However, one forgotten memento stands out starkly within the decaying home. There, on the front of the refrigerator door, are little multi-colored magnetic alphabet letters. Arbitrarily written out of colorful plastic letters are the words “Home is wherever I’m with you.”

  A chill runs down my sweaty spine as the words echo in my memory; something familiar tugs at my mind.

  How strange.

  Asher squeezes my hand and pulls me closer to his side, but I trip over my unwilling feet. He raises his hand hesitantly before knocking on the white, stained refrigerator door.

  I stare up at him like he’s lost his mind. I glance back at my mother who is absent in her own mind, staring at the dusty, rotting floor. My mouth hangs open, wanting to say something, but unable to find words that might seem appropriate for this peculiar situation.

  How hard did I hit him earlier?

/>   I touch his shoulder, ready to ask him if he has any signs of a concussion when the refrigerator door cracks open an inch. I jump back at the movement, clinging closer to Asher. My fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt. I look up at him. A smile breaks across his face, and I start to wonder if I might have a concussion.

  The door swings open without a sound and a small, gray-haired woman greets us. She stands on carpeted stairs within the appliance. Picture frames decorate the hallway wall behind her.

  Her lined face is kind and creased with a sweet smile consuming her features. Her long gray hair is in swooping piles on her head.

  “Ashby!” she says in a shrill. “What are you all standing around for? Get in here.” She waves her arm at us to enter the refrigerator with her. I blink repeatedly at the bizarre woman within the refrigerator. “It’s not every day your grandson comes home.” She tilts her head back to smile up at Asher, her eyes glistening. He mirrors her affection, his eyes lighting up with the first genuine happiness I’ve ever seen in him.

  All this time, all the days we’ve run. All the unanswered questions and confusion. All the years he’s been in the compound, sedated and used. All we’ve risked and lost. Asher was coming home.

  ***

  Asher follows the woman through the appliance. My mother also brushes past me, a vacant but profound look in her sad eyes. Her steps are confident despite her emotions.

  They leave me standing with a confused Ripper in the quiet and destitute remains of this house.

  My head dips out of reflex as I step cautiously into the well-lit appliance. A crystal light fixture is centered in the entry way. I awkwardly pull the plastic door closed behind us. Ripper and I tiptoe down the short set of stairs to a modestly furnished living room. To my surprise, it’s the nicest home I’ve ever been in.

  There are two tan armchairs along one wall. An elderly man in gray button-down pajamas sits in the chair farthest from us, taking in the sight of us with inquisitive dark eyes behind thin black glasses. He must be Asher’s grandpa.