by T. G. Ayer
Resonance
The Irin Chronicles #3
T.G. Ayer
Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
The Irin Chronicles
Also by T.G. Ayer
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Author’s Note
The DarkWorld Universe, currently the SkinWalker Series and the SoulTracker series, also includes the Irin Chronicles. The Irin Brotherhood act under a veil of secrecy, and have done so for centuries. The various councils within the DarkWorld are aware of the existence of the Irin operatives but the regular guy on the street has no clue.
So Kailin and Logan, Melisande and Saleem, and the rest of the characters from the DarkWorld—who you have probably already met—are going about their merry way with no clue that Evie and her team are also working to keep the world safe.
As yet, their paths have not crossed, but they do later in the Irin series.
If you haven’t picked up the SkinWalker or SoulTracker books yet, you may want to start with Skin Deep to get a feel for the Universe.
Alternatively, you could read Irin 1 & 2 — Retribution & Requiem and then run through the other DarkWorld books bearing in mind that both the SkinWalker and the SoulTracker series have active crossover scenes.
There will be more to come in the DarkWorld Universe—DeathTalker soon and the MindMelder Series after that, telling Nerina & Darcy’s’ stories from their own points of view, and shining a light on who they are and what their own lives look like.
T.G. Ayer
The DarkWorld Universe
Chapter 1
Darkness encased Evie, the stone walls of her cell exuding a moist iciness that burrowed deep into her bones. Even a Nephilim could feel this kind of cold, a cold arising both from the world around her and from her very spirit.
She was still unsure of how she’d ended up in the dungeons beneath Greylock Estate, the seat of the Brotherhood of the Irin. And a part of Evie’s mind kept whispering that this was all just a bad dream. A part of her suggested quite adamantly that she’d simply fallen and hit her head when she’d arrived back into the EarthWorld from Hades.
Then she chuckled, the sound dark and filled with a humorless mirth. How idiotic that she’d given in to wishful thinking? She’d never been the flighty sort, the kind of female partial to plucking elaborate explanations out of thin air and actually believing those excuses.
Perhaps she was losing her mind. That whole adventure in Hades must have addled her brains. Perhaps her journey to the underworld, her initiation as the new Hades, even the deliciously sexy Julian--who was now her co-ruler of the Underworld--had been a convoluted construction of her overly active imagination.
Evie blinked, plucked from her reverie as the loud thunking of boots on stone echoed along the corridor outside her door, two sets of the thick rubber soles pounding hard onto the rock floor, as though the sound was made in a deliberate attempt to instill fear in the hearts of the prisoners within the cells.
Or rather, in Evie herself--she was pretty certain that she was currently the only occupant of the ancient dungeons. Not an unusual state, though in Evie’s mind it was incredibly unacceptable that the most powerful of all the nephilim in the employment of the Irin Brotherhood was currently in jail, entirely ignorant of the identity of her apparent murder victim.
So she’d have to settle for waiting patiently until someone came to tell her what in Hades was going on.
Besides, even if she wanted to drum up the cooperation of the rest of the incarcerated captives occupying the cells along the corridors, she knew all too well how hard that would be. Especially since there were no other captives.
Evie was the only occupant of the dungeons, as far as she could tell. And she wasn’t sure if she should be honored or if she ought to panic.
One thing had struck Evie as unusual though--other than the fact that she was in jail of course--and the gargoyle Team was the new security within the dungeons.
The Gargoyle Guard appeared to now be responsible for patrolling the dungeons--a role previously held by the Level 2 Nephilim team.
And anyone imprisoned in the Greylock dungeon would remain within their cells until such time as the Masters decided on their fates.
And if Evie knew anything, it was that the gargoyles were damned good at their jobs. Lethally good—should the need arise. And she was dead certain that the gargoyle guard would not give a nephilim a break. At the slightest sound, the coldest of whispers, the gargoyles would descend upon the dungeons, gleaming Elvin steel knives and daggers at the ready. The very sight of their inky tattooed skin would send any prisoner into a quiet fear.
The Nephilim weren’t supposed to be afraid of anything really--other than the Supreme Being himself--but the gargoyle guard had never inspired any of the Irin warriors with trust. There was always a reason to wonder if, when the chips fell, would the gargoyle protect the Nephilim or use that opportunity to eliminate an ancient enemy.
It probably wasn’t the best idea ever to use gargoyles to provide protection for Nephilim—an age-old war would keep them at odds with each other no matter the century or the realm. Although, if Evie were to be honest, gargoyles tended to be at odds with a variety of species anyway, so the Nephilim weren’t exclusive recipients of gargoyle hatred.
But, with a nephilim imprisoned without having the opportunity to defend herself, and with a new guard in place, Evie had a feeling something dark and sinister was afoot, something that reached for her with icy fingers ready to reassure her that nobody within the walls of the estate was going to come to her aid.
Something had turned the loyalties of the Brotherhood as well as her fellow warriors.
Evie had been left in the cold cell since the previous night having returned from her sojourn within the multiple hells that was Hades. After Mykia Goodwin, Grand Master of the Irin, had left, Evie had found plenty of time to ponder her situation. She’d wanted to speak to someone, to find out more about who she was meant to have killed, but nobody had come.
She’d come home with an interesting story to tell the masters, news that would set everything within the brotherhood on its head. But instead of revealing Marcellus’ greed and Daniel’s betrayal, Evie was in jail.
Funny how that had worked out.
Still, Evie was changed now; more powerful, more knowledgeable. More...different.
Her skin still tingled where the dark shadow-tattoos skimmed the surface of her skin, a silent constant reminder of who she was now...Hades. Evangeline was ruler of the Underworld, though she held that position alongside the previous and current owner of the title. For which she was supremely grateful.
Julian. Ancient prince of Rome, current holder of the title of Hades, and probably one of the sexiest males Evie had had the pleasure to encounter in all of the centuries she’d lived. And she’d left Julian behind in Hades, with far more reluctance than she’d felt at her departure from the Underworld itself.
She still felt a magnetic pull toward him, a deep longing to return to his side, a sense that she’d only ever be whole again if she went back t
o him. Could sharing the Marks of Hades be pulling her to him, the spirit of the power ever needing to be joined together? Or was her need more to do with her feelings for Julian?
But returning didn’t appear to be an option in the near future. Not until she got herself out of this particular mess.
Evie sighed, scanning the stone walls around her. A scene played over and over in her mind, a replay of the moment she’d returned to the EarthWorld. She’d embraced the feeling of the sun’s warm rays on her face, and she’d felt the lilt of joy in her heart when she thought of her sister—no, her sisters--and she’d steeled her determination to search the ends of the EarthWorld to find them.
And then the joy had been cruelly doused by a blow to her head, and then the ice of murder charge, ending quite aptly with the chill of the stone cells of the Irin dungeons.
Chapter 2
Evie had returned to Greylock, sad to have left Julian behind, concerned with what her future held especially with being part-ruler of the underworld, worried about the powerful reach of the Control and if they had her in their sights at all.
But someone had already been after Evie, and that same someone had knocked her out with a blow to her head.
Not much can fell an angel, that much was true--full or half-blood didn’t matter.
Alcohol did nothing, so as with many shifters like skinwalkers, Evie would have to resort to specially drafted fae spirits in order to reach a satisfactory state of inebriation.
Hence her attacker’s resorting to the use of blunt force--a blow hard enough to knock her out and yet positioned just right to ensure she sustained no physical injury as a result. A method of felling an angel that wasn’t all that well-known either.
The sunlight had vanished in an instant, golden shimmers replaced by darkness and shadows. What a perfect metaphor for both her mood and the reality she had to now face.
When Evie had finally returned to consciousness, she’d been greeted with darkness and discomfort. Moments later, securely cuffed to a wooden interrogation chair, she’d registered the blindfold shielding her eyes, understood that the cool air and the whistling drafts were those dancing within the depths of the Greylock dungeons.
It had been a long time since Evie had felt pain.
Nephilim were built stronger, harder than the humans who birthed them, and Evie, just like all the other spawn of the fallen angels, possessed a strength incomparable to mortals.
And yet, her head had ached--throbbed with the kind of pain she’d rarely felt in her long lifetime. Even her eyeballs had hurt. But weak patches of light had soon revealed she’d been blindfolded, which was an odd thing to do since she’d also been chained to a chair and locked up in a dungeon. Even her hands had been bound, preventing her from massaging the sore spot on the back of her head.
A little bit of overkill there in imprisoning her.
Evie’s first visitor had been more than a surprise, though she had taken joy in the identity of the new Master of the Irin. The standard issue hooded cape had shielded the woman’s face when she’d spoken and Evie had been surprised at first. But the Irin Warrior’s reputation had preceded her.
Mykia Goodwin was an arresting sight, with her shock of ebony spiral curls, her rich brown skin and almost-golden eyes. And like Evie, she was a warrior with a reputation. But, where Evie’s warrior skills and Father Patrick’s patronage were spoken of across the Brotherhood in awe and envy, Mikya’s gentle and just nature had been both lauded and criticized.
Seemed people were never happy no matter what they were given.
Despite her pleasure at a woman being appointed Master, Evie’s doubts refused to be quashed. What if Mykia were merely a mouthpiece--like Marcellus had been, simply doing someone else's bidding, with no real power or control?
Worse, during her conversation with Mykia, Evie had ended up losing her temper. A small show of her latent fury, but it had been enough. Even that tiny loss of control was a bad beginning for her, but the news she was awaiting trial for murder hadn’t been an easy thing to accept.
Master Goodwin had been firm and aloof though she’d seemed open to hearing Evie’s side of the story. A story that Evie was still waiting to tell.
Mykia had then left with a promise of another meeting to clear a few things up.
Evie was still waiting to find out what those things were, and who she’d been accused of killing--which was more important in the greater scheme of things.
Evie held onto the belief that Mykia wouldn’t send Evie to her death without allowing Evie to prove her innocence.
But she hated the vulnerable position the bindings put her in.
Tension had built within her gut for every second she’d spent within the cell, for every alternate scenario of the moment she’d been struck unconscious, all the possible ways she could have defended herself so she wouldn't be in this position right now. But, she knew well enough it was pointless.
Hindsight and all that.
Now, long hours later, Evie paced the uneven stone floor, ears straining to catch the slightest hint of the Master’s return. She’d been released from the wooden chair and the straps around her ankles had been removed. The silent guards had allowed her to eat a simple meal of stew and fresh bread. They’d also given her water, and a weak cider which she’d found an odd luxury for an inmate of Greylock’s jail.
Other than the food, she had received no more information, no visitors, no further explanation, and no meeting with Mykia.
Head still throbbing, Evie felt like she was slowly losing her mind.
She had to come up with a plan. If she could get word to Barry, her Demon Overlord friend, or even to Julian perhaps, they’d surely help her get out of this mess. Desperation and worry grabbed hard at Evie’s heart, slowly strangling a little more of her hope. She forced herself to breathe, to blink away the sting of tears behind her eyes. Then her gaze fell on her cuffed wrists, giving her something else other than despair to add to her pile of troubles.
The SHC held the spelled cuffs in a secret location, one which even angel eyes cannot find. And, as the only organization to manage the nephilim in current times, the Irin Brotherhood had been given access to the Angel Bonds. The only thing was, the Irin Master would have had to make a formal request for its use, a submission so strong and irrefutable that none of the Supreme High Council members would rule against its use.
Evie's blood stilled. If this was a plan to contain her for some reason, or to get rid of her, the plot must have gone all the way up to the highest level. If not, the people responsible were smart enough to cover all their tracks so the members of the SHC would not be able to detect the lies behind such a submission.
Of course, even a supernatural on the SHC was capable of betrayal if they were self-serving enough, dishonest enough. Far too many people would break the rules should it benefit them in some way.
Which brought Evie back to the first of her questions: what was she accused of and why was someone after her?
And now she couldn’t stop staring at the angelic script burned into the leather straps binding her wrists, cuffs that trapped her here in the dungeons beneath the estate which was her home. She swallowed hard to stop the hiss of pain that threatened to spill out. Was Greylock home to Evie anymore?
How easily life turned around and punched you in the gut.
Chapter 3
Evie had been released from her bonds when she’d received a second small meal--cheese and fruit and a goblet of orange juice--delivered by an armed gargoyle guard.
Afterward, the silent guard had strapped her again to the wooden chair, though she wasn’t at all sure what difference it would make. It wasn’t as if she was capable of leaving the cell without outside help anyway.
Though he hadn’t spoken to her, he’d held her gaze a moment or two longer than was necessary, silvery eyes sending her a message, though its contents were unknown to her.
Was he warning her? Comforting her?
If he’d meant to
convey his utter dislike of Evie and her kind, he needn’t have bothered because she knew all too well what gargoyles felt toward angels. But at least his presence had provided her with some company, a sense that she existed, that she was still alive.
Even though the Marks of Hades still swam across her skin, a constant reminder that when it came to those strange shadows, she wasn’t at all alone, Evie didn’t feel comforted.
The guard had been careful to avoid making his eye-contact with Evie too obvious though she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though the cell had CCTV operation or something.
When the guard left, the entire dungeons had fallen silent. Only the drafts kept her company, rushing through cracks and crannies and filling the cells with keening cries, suitably mournful background music for Evie’s current predicament.
Evie had been relieved when he’d left. But, even though she was alone again, her skin still crawled as though someone was watching her.
Another sense inside her, an almost instinctive awareness began to swirl inside Evie, consuming her slowly from her solar plexus outwards. And, with the markings on her skin now also acting up, Evie found herself even more uncomfortable.
Heat surged and undulated on her skin as the Marks of Hades began to shift around on her forearm. Why they were agitated, Evie wasn’t sure, and that uncertainty only made her worries even worse. She shook her head, trying to focus, her mind and her emotions a mess right now.