Ascent: Book 3 of the Scorched Trilogy

by Lizzy Prince

  “I think I just wanted to have a good memory of her. One thing that wasn’t tainted by the terrible things she did.” His words ruffled my hair as he tipped his head down, resting his cheek on my head.

  “Maybe you really do remember,” my voice whispered through the night, weaving between the fog as I fumbled my way around how to offer words that I wasn’t sure he wanted. “And whether or not the memory is real, the moment was.”

  We stood there a few more moments before Munro released a deep breath and kissed the top of my head. “Let’s get back to the others.”

  I nodded, and we made our way back to the road, side-by-side. We didn’t talk, but sometimes there is comfort in the very nearness of a person, more than any words we could have spoken. I still felt a pull in the direction of the Mound, but I shoved it away, knowing now was not the time to go on a sightseeing tour of the burial site.

  By the time we made it back to the car, Butch was just returning from putting back the borrowed shovel. Everyone climbed into the car without speaking. I could tell that Theo was dying to diffuse the tension with a joke, but even he was restraining himself. Lola was the first person to speak when Ryan pulled onto the road and started driving.

  “Where are we going?”

  I was glad she’d asked because I was wondering the same thing. A quick look at the clock on the dash of the van showed that it was just after midnight. That meant that we’d all been up for over twenty-four hours, and it wasn’t like we’d just been lounging around in a hotel room. Everyone was hanging on by barely a thread. Mari’s head kept tipping down like she was nodding off to sleep only to wake up when her chin would hit her chest. Lola was slumped against Theo, and Butch looked far too rigid in the passenger's seat up front, as if he was afraid he’d fall asleep if he let himself relax. I could feel myself swaying slightly in my seat, like my body was trying to lull me into falling asleep by rocking in little circles.

  “I know someone not far from here in Dunshaughlin. We’ll stop there and see if we can crash with him for the night.”

  My forehead was perched on the seat in front of me when I woke to a car door slamming. Springing back upright, I looked around, confused and disoriented. Peering out the window, I saw we were parked in front of a pub called the Fox and Flame and blinked wearily. I had no idea how I’d fallen asleep and stayed that way with my head smushed against the seat in front of me.

  I felt worse now that I’d had a twenty-minute nap but tried to shake off the almost nauseous feeling that came with being overly tired. Mari and I climbed out of the back row of the van and gathered with everyone else on the sidewalk.

  The pub was closed, but there was a doorway just to the left with stairs leading up. Ryan started up them, and the rest of us followed, too tired to ask any more questions. I was the second to last one up the stairs with only Munro behind me. I think he was afraid I’d fall down the steps if someone wasn’t behind me to catch me if I stumbled. He probably wasn’t wrong.

  I heard voices on the landing above us, and they sounded annoyed, but I couldn’t see around everyone else to find out what was going on.

  “Jesus, Ryan, a little warning next time.” A deeply accented Irish voice reached my ears when I finally hit the landing.

  Ryan was standing off to the side talking to a giant wall of a man. That was the only way to describe him. He was huge. He was at least six foot five and full of muscles like he was Jason Momoa’s body double. The only difference was that his dark hair was much shorter. It was cropped close on the sides but longer on top and since it looked like we’d woken him up, it was messy. He was wearing a white tank top that displayed an almost obscene number of tattoos running up and down his arms and covering what I could see of his chest. From my very limited knowledge, they looked like runes. Everywhere. Interesting.

  If I had to guess, I’d say he was about Ryan’s age, and he didn’t look overly excited to be hosting a random party of people in his apartment with no notice.

  “Sorry, Roark. I’ll fill you in on everything in a few.”

  I shuffled by him, like I could sneak by without him noticing me, but he just frowned down at me before his eyes shifted to Munro behind me.

  “Hey, squirt,” the mountain said, and I turned around to give a confused look to Munro. Squirt, really? Munro wasn’t six foot five, but he was a lean mass of muscle and well over six foot.

  Munro looked pleased and not the least bit bothered by the moniker and gave him a man hug—the manly kind with one arm and loud back slapping.

  “Squirt?” I whispered with a raised brow. Munro just gave me a cheeky smile but didn’t bother responding.

  My attention had been focused on Munro but now that he was in the apartment, I took a moment to look around and was surprised by how large it was. Below was the bar, but the upstairs was all living space, occupying the second floor, and possibly the third, since there was a set of open, floating stairs that headed up somewhere I couldn’t see. The whole place was modern and open, the living room, kitchen and dining area all one large space that flowed into each other.

  The kitchen was full of chrome appliances, dark cabinets and slate countertops. It would have been too dark if the lighter walls and hanging industrial-looking lighting didn’t soften it up. There were hardwood floors throughout with large area rugs to warm the dining and living room sections. The living room held a huge sectional couch that I barely resisted diving into. It looked like the perfect place to nap. But seeing as I didn’t know this guy from a stranger on the street, I was sure he wouldn’t appreciate the move.

  Now that we were all standing uncomfortably in various parts of the living room, Roark closed and locked the door and then flopped down on the coach. Damn, that looked inviting. My feet were swollen and throbbing, my skin felt greasy and gritty, and I needed to have a date with my toothbrush real soon. But none of that felt more important than sleep. Maybe I could find a blanket, curl up, and sleep for about twenty hours. Hell, I’d even take a spot on the floor. I just wanted to stop moving.

  “Alright, Ryan, we’ve got a party started here, so what the hell is going on?”

  Ryan dropped the bag he was carrying by the front door and wandered over to sit on the other side of the couch, leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling with a long groan.

  “We need a place to stay for the night.”

  “Yeah, I gathered that much what with all of you showing up at my front door with your bags,” Roark replied, barely reigning in his annoyance.

  I set my own bag down after I realized I was still carrying the weight. I was so tired that I’d forgotten I’d been holding it. Now that I didn’t have the extra weight, I felt slightly unanchored, like I might float away. That was just how tired I was. The warmth of the apartment was getting to me, and I pulled my sweatshirt off and tossed it on my bag. I caught Roark’s gaze locked on the rune that marked my arm before his glance darted up to my face. Still, I didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed slightly in thought as though he was considering me what to make of me.

  If the runes on his body were any indication, this guy knew something about magic, but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him what was happening. This was Ryan’s parade. He could share as much or as little as he wanted.

  “Hattie’s dead,” Ryan stated, and Roark turned his face from me and looked at Ryan and then Munro with concern clearly etched on his features.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally replied. And I sensed the conflicting emotions in his eyes. He must know about their past and what Hattie had done. Really, there was no good response to Ryan’s comment. That message was really beating itself into my psyche. Got it, universe, shitty things happen. It’s out of our control, and we just have to deal with it. Point taken.

  This was such a messed-up situation that there were no clear parameters for how to feel. I was relieved, and that made me feel bad, because Ryan and Munro might be hurting from this loss. Or at the very least, they were struggling with their own feeli
ngs and knowing how to best mourn, or not mourn. Bottom line was that it was fucking complicated.

  “Yeah, well, shit just hit the fan. Hattie’s been off the deep end for a while, but she tried to bring back Cailleach tonight.”

  “What?!” Roark laughed like Ryan had told him a crazy joke, and all the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. Without even realizing it, I took a step toward Munro until my shoulder was pressed against him. It wasn’t that I was afraid of this guy, but there was definitely something animalistic about him. I didn’t want to be on the opposite side of him in a fight.

  Ryan lifted his head up from the back of the couch and looked at Roark, who’s laughter died off. “It worked.”

  “Impossible,” Roark snapped back.

  “Hattie raised her and then Cailleach killed her.”

  “Fuck. Where is she now?” Roark was rubbing the thumb of his right hand over the runes running up his left forearm. He was tracing the shapes without looking at them, like he had them memorized. I got the feeling that this was a mindless movement that he did a lot.

  Munro answered, “We don’t know. Annie put up a shield, and we stayed hidden until she was gone. There was no way we could go up against her after what she did to Hattie.”

  Roark made an indecipherable noise in response, but at that point, I was so tired that I didn’t care if I was being rude. Frankly, it was rude that Roark hadn’t invited any of us to sit yet. I stumbled over to the couch, close to Ryan, and nearly fell into the seat. My movements brought Roark’s eyes back to me, and I saw them flicker over my mark again.

  “Who’s your entourage?” he asked without looking away from me. And I got the feeling he was really asking who I was.

  Munro took a seat next to me, and I sagged into his side, desperate for the comfort of his touch. His arm eased behind me so that I could rest against his side without trapping his arm, and I almost shivered when I inhaled the deep forest scent and sandalwood that was uniquely him. Ryan took over the introductions, going around the room to naming our mad little crew. Roark nodded to himself like the introductions made perfect sense, but we still had no idea who he was.

  “And who are you?” The words slipped out of my mouth before I realized I’d spoken. Damn tired brain. Or mouth. Or whatever the hell should stop me from talking.

  Roark leaned forward on the couch, resting his forearms on his knees and tilting his head to look at me critically. “I’m the guy who’s wondering why the hell you have the mark of the two sisters on your arm.”

  Chapter 4

  “Um…” I lost all ability to speak because I just let that word hang in a drawn-out noise while I looked down at my rune, completely confused. “What?”

  Roark narrowed his eyes at me and made a small humming noise in the back of his throat.

  “Listen, Roark, I know we’ve got a lot to talk about, but we have been awake for over twenty-four hours. We’ve traveled across the country, seen someone get the life sucked out of them, and we’re really fucking exhausted. Can all of this wait until the morning? We’re not going to sneak out in the middle of the night. Hell, I’m pretty sure no one is moving once they close their eyes,” Ryan said gruffly, rubbing his hand over his face.

  I pulled my lower lip into my mouth, biting at it as I struggled to figure out what was more important. Pressing Roark on what the hell he was talking about, or face planting into the couch. I was so tired my eyes were watering like there was wind blowing dust into them, only we were inside, and there wasn’t any wind. My body was just starting to shut down in a giant FU for having pushed it for so long.

  Roark grunted out a response and pushed himself up off the couch. “I’ll get blankets. There’s only one bedroom in this place, and it’s mine, so you lot will have to grab whatever cushion or square of floor is available.”

  I closed my eyes and had no idea if Roark came back out with blankets because I was dead to the world.

  My body was pressed against something cold and damp, and I shivered uncontrollably as my teeth started to chatter. I was slowly waking up from a deep sleep and forced my eyes to open but squinted into the darkness when I couldn’t make out my surroundings. Little by little, my eyes adjusted as light filtered from up above. My heart started beating erratically as I realized that I was no longer in Roark’s apartment. No, I was laying directly in front of the Mound of Hostages, back at the Hill of Tara, where the cluster fuck of Hattie releasing Cailleach had happened only hours before. Or at least, I thought it was hours before. Who the hell knew how long ago it had been? I mean, what the hell was I doing there? How had I gotten back there? What the hell was going on?

  Sitting up, I looked down and saw that I was still in the t-shirt and jeans I’d fallen asleep in. There were socks on my feet, but no shoes. Someone must have taken them off me at Roark’s apartment. Or, maybe not. Hell, I had no idea. The side of my shirt and jeans were soaked where I had been laying on the ground, and I was freezing. It wasn’t exactly a balmy night out. It was December for Christ sakes. As if to prove the point, the wind whipped around me, and the cold went so deep that it settled in my bones, making me feel like a human popsicle.

  “Asshole,” I muttered to the wind, even as I realized it was idiotic to be talking to the wind. Then I remembered how I had unknowingly been affecting the weather with my mood and realized that I was probably the one to blame for the wind.

  “Guess I’m the asshole.” I sighed, feeling pretty crazy talking to myself and also because I’d somehow ended up miles away from where I’d fallen asleep. Well, shit. I wasn’t sure I remembered the way back to Roark’s apartment, and even if I wanted to start walking, it wasn’t like it was a one-mile jaunt. It was a good half hour away by car.

  Hauling myself up off the ground, I looked around for the road but stopped when I caught a soft glow flaring up out of the corner of my eye. My pulse immediately went wild, thumping so hard that the swish of my blood was the only sound I heard for a few moments. Turning slowly, like I was afraid to spook an animal and not scared of seeing some spooky ass shit, I found myself staring at the entrance to the Mound of Hostages.

  The soft glow was making its way down the passage like a lantern bobbing down a corridor, getting farther away from me. I knew I should be terrified. What if Cailleach had made her way back and was in there trying to lure me into a trap like some kind of evil will-o’-the-wisp? Still, I didn’t have that feeling of dread and panic that I’d had in her presence earlier. That feeling of wrongness that permeated the air when Hattie had resurrected her. No, the feeling I had now was one of peace, balance, and familiarity. There was something inside the Mound, and I was pretty sure I was going to be dumb enough to find out what it was.

  I tried to recall what the tour guide had said about the Mound earlier, that it had been a burial site built over five thousand years ago. There was something other worldly about this entire site and there was a pull coming from the Mound that was telling me I needed to be inside the passageway. Now that I was standing there in front of the entrance, I remembered how I’d felt that same pull earlier in the day when we’d buried Hattie. I’d felt this desperate need, almost a compulsion, to come back to this spot because something was calling to me.

  My socks were soaked and clung to my feet in a way that felt so gross that I almost ripped them off. I debated whether my feet would be colder with or without the wet socks and opted to leave them on. At least the tops of the socks were dry and if nothing else, they provided a little barrier between my feet and God only knew what on the ground.

  I approached the gated entrance to the Mound and frowned, wondering how I was supposed to get into the passageway if it was locked. As if it were answering my question, the gate clanged gently, like someone had just walked through it so that it bounced against the closure. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the lock was dangling and unhooked. Either someone had forgotten to lock up at the end of the day, or there was something magical going on. Gee, I wonder which one it was.<
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  Feeling like a criminal, I removed the lock since it was still hooked on the gate, even though it wasn’t locked. The metal screeched loudly as I shifted the gate open, and I cringed, freezing in place abruptly. My eyes darted around frantically to see if anyone was around to hear the God-awful sound. I was expecting the police to show up any minute now, screaming that I was desecrating a national monument. Once it appeared that no one was going to jump out at me with guns loaded, I released a breath and opened the gate a few more inches.

  Damn it, why didn’t I know how to create a soundproofing magic spell? Surely that was a thing. So far, I was only able to do magic reactively, not anything with any intent, besides what little Munro had taught me. Even that had been a cluster. My magic had taken over the simple requests I’d made of it and blown it way out of proportion. If I tried to do some kind of mute or quiet spell, I’d probably make myself deaf or turn off all the sound in the world. With a resigned sigh, I tried to open the gate as slowly as possible to minimize the noise.

  When I had the gate open wide enough to squeeze through, I made my way into the passage. Standing just on the other side of the gate, I paused, wondering once again what the hell I was doing. The passage was made of stone and actually felt a little warmer than outside, probably because any wind was blocked by the structure. There was a faint smell of damp earth and stone, but it didn’t smell stale, just earthy.

  The little flicker of light I’d seen earlier had disappeared, so I couldn’t see a thing in front of me. As if a lightbulb went off in my head, I searched the back pocket of my jeans and almost cried in relief when I found my phone. Usually I threw it in the pocket of my hoodie and could have wept when I found it in my pants instead.

  Clicking on the flashlight, I blinked a few times while my eyes adjusted to the overly bright light. Shining it down the narrow passage, I began to walk toward the center of the Mound, knowing that whatever I needed to see, that’s where it would be.