The Hour of Dust and Ashes cm-3 Page 5

  She probably would. But to say I was torn was an understatement. On one hand, I wanted Emma to have a simple, normal, human life; to have friends, do well in school, play sports. It was hard enough to deal with all the usual growing pains of preteen and teen years. How much harder would it be if crafting and arcane knowledge were added to the mix?

  I had to weigh the benefits. Had to figure out what would provide the best environment and life experience for my child. What would give her safety, security, confidence, and yet allow her the independence she craved. From the time Emma was born, I envisioned this happy, ideal life she’d have—that I was determined she’d have—but lately, it wasn’t working out the way I’d thought it would.

  We stepped off the path and into the yard. The scent of tangy grass filled the air. While there’d been nsun for the last two months, it was winter and the grass should’ve gone dormant and slightly brown. Yet the park at the Mordecai House flourished.

  “Is this your work?” I asked.

  Bryn looked up from the ground and out over the green field. “Mine and the other earth mages here. We do what we can, maintaining the grounds until the sun comes back.” More hope swept through me. Bryn loved communing with nature. It was easy to imagine her working her magic on the earth, using her gifts to cultivate plants, to give back to nature, even as she drew energy from it.

  Placed sporadically through the grounds in isolated spots were small guest houses that looked more like quaint country cabins or cottages. We skirted a large pond ringed with weeping willows and finally entered the woods, following a small dirt path. I never would’ve found Aaron’s hideaway amid the maze of gardens, orchards, greenhouses, ponds, and outbuildings.

  Bryn was right. Aaron did want his solitude.

  The air was cooler and fresher in the dark woods. The leaves smelled earthy and old, crunching under our feet as we walked. “So, besides him wanting his solitude, how are you guys doing, okay?” I finally asked.

  A bitter snort came from her. “If not talking and walking on eggshells is okay, then, yeah, we’re freaking brilliant. He probably has no idea about the suicides,” she said at length. “This should be interesting.”

  “Maybe you should let me break it to him.”

  “Maybe,” she echoed. “We’re here.”

  In front of us, nestled in a thicket of pines, was a small cabin. Light glowed softly from the two small windows framing a narrow door. If not for the curtains in the windows and the smoke coming from the chimney, I’d think the place was a simple gardener’s shed.

  Bryn stopped. She didn’t make a sound, just stared silently at the building.

  Unlike most nymphs who lived at the Grove downtown under protection of Pendaran, the Druid King, Aaron was a loner. A scholar. A warrior. One who went his own way and didn’t live by the customs and laws of the Kinfolk.

  And it was no wonder he needed time to recuperate. Physically and mentally. The Sons of Dawn had done a number on him. They’d targeted him for his power, had ripped his life force from his body and stuffed it inside the famous ring of their founder, Solomon.

  And they’d used Bryn to help them do it.

  Their sole purpose was to insight a war between the nobles of Charbydon and the Adonai of Elysia. To do that, they had to go deep into ancient off-world mythology to a forgotten history and find proof that the nobles had once ruled the beautiful and heavenly world of Elysia.

  They’d found their proof all right.

  The being lying inside of the sarcophagus was the link, the ancestor to the Charbydon nobles, Elysian Adonai, and humans. A First One. One whose existence alone would prove that the other myths were true and that the nobles had indeed once lived and ruled in Elysia.

  Once the nobles had physical proof, they’d leave the dark world of Charbydon and lay siege to Elysia. Heaven and hell at war again. And we’d be stuck in the middle.

  With the nobles gone from Charbydon, the path would be clear for the jinn to take back control of their home world or worse, use the chaos of war to gain new territory and control here.

  Bryn knocked on the slatted wooden door, pulling me out of my thoughts of war and chaos.

  We waited a few seconds. She knocked again. A soft thud sounded behind us and we both turned in time to see a black wolf jump down from the tree in front of the house.

  Aaron had been in the tree. Odd. Since when do wolves climb trees? But then, this was no ordinary wolf, was it?

  Emerald eyes regarded us in a quiet, predatory way before the wolf padded past us and shifted en route, clothes following in a blur as wolf became a masculine, black-haired nymph male. Without a word, he opened the door and went inside.

  “Joy,” Bryn muttered, following him.

  The interior of the cottage was cozy, with two timber beams running the length of a low ceiling. Aaron went to the fireplace and poked at the red coals before placing a stick of wood on the fire. His bare feet peeked out from the ends of frayed jeans. Reflected flames danced on an untucked black silk shirt. A couple days’ worth of beard covered his jaw, and the emerald green aura that was usually so vivid appeared dull.

  As he set the poker down and turned to us, I noticed shadows curving beneath his solemn eyes. Black eyebrows were drawn together in a thoughtful frown and his hair was in need of a cut.

  Aaron put me in mind of a rugged, ancient Celt, and now he looked the part more than ever. Battle weary, too, with his gaunt expression and noticeable weight loss.

  I met his gaze. The intelligent light usually there was muted. A sigh of regret went through me.

  “Have a seat.” He gestured to the old floral-print sofa against the wall.

  Aaron took the chair by the fire as I sat down. Bryn perched next to me on the arm of the couch. An uncomfortable silence descended, which brought the tension between them into stark relief.

  “So what is this place?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Looks like you’re renting it from the seven dwarves.”

  A brief smile crossed his face. “It’s sanctuary. I find the house too loud, too busy this time of year with all the decorating and planning.”

  “Oh, right. The New Year’s Eve shindig.” The League threw one of the biggest New Year’s Eve parties in the city, going on four years now. Emma, Rex, and I had been invited and it would be our first League party. “Emma can’t wait. She’s already got her dress, shoes, and jewelry …” Unlike her mother. I had no clue what I was going to wear.

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Bryn said suddenly. “She wants to help decorate the ballroom. I told her it was okay with me if it was with you. She can come early the night of and help with last-minute details, too.”

  “Should be okay,” I said. “Rex will want to come, too, and make a nuisance of himself in the kitchen.” And no one could argue with that—one of Rex’s undying passions was cooking.

  “While we’re on the subject of your daughter,” Aaron said, “have you given any more thought to her request to attend the League’s school?”

  My eyebrow lifted. “She’s gotten to you, too, huh?”

  “She did speak to me last night during her visit with Bryn.”

  I went right to the biggest obstacle when it came to Emma attending the League’s school. “Honestly? I can’t afford it.” Not on my salary. Not since Will was no longer working and the child support had gone out the window. I was barely able to pay Emma’s tuition at Hope Ridge; there was no way in hell I could make the League’s astronomical tuition.

  “We do take on a small number of scholarship students every year,” Aaron said. “Students who show promise academically as well as in crafting. I’ve taken the liberty of submitting my recommendation to have her considered. All you have to do is fill out the application and sign the release form so we can get a copy of her current school records. Then we can set the ball rolling.”

  I blinked, totally caught off guard. Part of me was glad I couldn’t afford it because the decision was made for me.

  “I
can see you hadn’t expected this. I hope I didn’t overstep. My thinking was that if you knew attendance was possible … well, at least then you have options.”

  “It’s fine.” Unexpected, but fine.

  “She has a special gift, Charlie. Allowing her to explore it will only benefit her, challenge her, and serve as a measure of protection for her.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair and sat back, staring up at the low ceiling for a moment. “I know. I just never thought my own child would be gifted like she is. I mean, my mother isn’t; I wasn’t really, not like Bryn. Will certainly wasn’t.”

  “Ah, but you were. Both of you. You were able to communicate without words with Connor, your twin brother. And let’s not forget the very reason your body accepted the introduction of Charbydon and Elysian DNA was because your female line contains long-ago ancestors from both worlds. And Will demonstrated his aptitude for learning crafting, even though it was black crafting and behind your back. Gifts can skip generations, but, Charlie, I would’ve been surprised if your daughter wasn’t affected in some way.”

  I sat forward again, bracing my elbows on my thighs and rubbing both hands down my face, letting out another loud breath. “She would be safer here.”

  “Safer than anywhere else.”

  “And learning crafting will help her protect herself and strengthen her abilities,” Bryn joined in.

  “Defense and offense,” Aaron said. “She’ll study them both.”

  “You do have a good academic program.”

  “The best in the country. Our academic pgoes back eight years. And when we moved our headquarters here to Atlanta, the school moved locations with us. The last four years have elevated the school to one of the best in the country. Think on it … She can start spring semester, after the first of the year.”

  I nodded, still a bit dazed by the turn of the conversation and the scholarship.

  “So,” Bryn began after a long moment of silence. “As you know, Charlie saw the oracle last night …”

  “The exorcists have all fled, left on their own or forced out,” I told him. “I think we have Grigori Tennin to thank for that.”

  “If he’s the one in charge,” Aaron mused.

  “Well, there’s no doubt Tennin is a key player. If the nobles were to leave Charbydon, Tennin would become High Chief of all the jinn tribes.”

  “True. But we mustn’t forget that there are nobles out there who believe in the old myths and who want war with Elysia. The Sons of Dawn might have started out as a jinn cult, with a jinn goal, but others, like Mynogan, believed.”

  To most nobles it was near heresy to imply that they were related to the Adonai, that they once lived in the heaven-like world of Elysia, and were cast out into Charbydon by the Creator. That myth was so old and obscure, most people didn’t even know about it and the ones who did simply believed it was fiction. Only a small few knew it for what it was. The truth.

  “Elysia is light. Charbydon is dark. Unpleasant,” Aaron said. “All it would take is exposing the First One as truth, not fiction, and the nobles will wage war for a better home, a more abundant home.”

  Aaron was right. It was possible that Tennin might not be the leader of the cult. It could be a noble. Hell, Mynogan had been a noble from the royal House of Abaddon. You didn’t get much higher in status than that. He was dead, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more like him.

  “Did the oracle say anything about the ash victims?” Bryn asked. “If she believed they’re possessed?”

  “No,” I answered truthfully. “But we should assume they are.” And I hated to say it but added, “Even you, Bryn. It’s the only way to keep everyone safe.”

  “And to that effect,” Aaron said, “the cult certainly won’t want an exorcist around to reveal the truth. They’ll want to maneuver the victims, use them …”

  “Use me,” Bryn added, gaze fixed on Aaron, her words ringing with a touch of steel.

  The strain between them increased with frightening speed.

  Just when I thought things might escalate into something more, Bryn shrugged. “Unless they decide I’ve outlived my usefulness and have me jump off a building instead.”

  Oh boy.

  Hot rage mushroomed like an atom bomb, then spread out to swamp the room. An eerie, dead silence seemed to stretch for eons. Aaron went completely still, so poised it made me a little uneasy. The light was back in his eyes, making the green color brilliant. I’d never seen him like this before, this … inflamed.

  But then, I’d never witnessed my sister purposefully provoke a Magnus Level warlock. I wanted to grab her hand and get her out of there before things escalated any further. And then give her a good lecture.

  “What do you mean by that?” Aaron asked in a steely tone.

  A smug smile twitched at the corner of Bryn’s lip. I glanced up, shot her a scolding look, and elbowed her in the thigh, jumping in before she could make things worse and start the fight she obviously wanted. “Two ash victims jumped from the Healey Building last night. We don’t know why they did it. I’ll be doing the rounds after this, talking to family, checking their homes … See if they left anything behind, a note, a reason …”

  Aaron placed his elbows on his knees, putting his hands together to make a teepee with his fingers and resting his chin on top. “Murder?” His head cocked, eyes glittering, the word slipping from his lips like a threat.

  “Well, like I said. We won’t know until—”

  “It is either murder,” he interrupted in a dangerous tone, “the cult having possessed those two people and then deciding to get rid of them. Or it is the effects of the drug, creating depression deep enough to make suicide an option.”

  Obviously, he didn’t appreciate my attempt at downplaying the situation. He wanted to hear it like it was, and I couldn’t blame him; I was the same way. “All right,” I said. “Here’s what I don’t get. If they were possessed, why would the spirits inside of them listen to that kind of order? I mean, without bodies and without being strong enough to take an un-addicted person, they’re releasing themselves to the afterlife, giving up a life, a body. So … why would the spirits allow that to happen?”

  Aaron scratched his stubbly jaw. “Depends on how devout a cult member they were in life. You have to remember, they’ve been kept in those spirit jars perhaps for thousands of years. They likely chose to await a new life, to serve the cult in this way. This is a cult that has lasted over two thousand years, Charlie. Even in spirit form, those members would follow orders. True that maybe some wouldn’t, but these two obviously did.”

  “I don’t know … It’s not like Tennin to throw away a mole, you know? It’s not his style.”

  “Then perhaps it’s not him issuing this particular order.”

  Aaron turned to Bryn, his expression analytical and cold and totally not the approach she needed right now. Removed. Unfeeling. “Have you been having suicidal thoughts? Bad dreams, visions? Are you more depressed than usual?”

  An inward sigh went through me. If only he’d injected some feeling behind his hard eyes, a little concern into those questions …

  I didn’t need to be in her line of sight to know her eyes were spitting copper fire. “Only when I’m around you.”

  Ouch.

  The tension came roaring back to life.

  “Careful, Bryn,” Aaron responded with a hint of arrogance. “Your youth is showing.”

  Oh shit. That was the one thing Bryn hated about her relationship with Aaron—the fact that she was twenty-seven and he was a couple hundred years old.

  “And for all your years and supposed knowledge,” she said, standing, “you know very little about females.” Her back was rigid, shoulders back, chin up. But below this show of anger, there existed a wealth of hurt. “I’ll take this as my cue to leave. Wouldn’t want me listening in on whatever the oracle said. Might use it against somebody …”

  I watched her go, hoping that Aaron would call her back, to show
her he cared, but he remained silent until the door was closed. “I’ll double up her guards,” he said. “I want someone by her even while she sleeps, while she’s in the bathroom, while she’s working in the garden. Every moment of every day and night, she’ll be protected …”

  Now why in the hell didn’t he say that when she was here?

  “Did the oracle say anything else to help us?” he asked.

  “She’s arranging an introduction with a creature she believes can see inside of a person and tell whether they’re possessed or not. Called it a sylph. You ever hear of it?”

  Aaron blinked, his surprise slowly replaced by scholarly interest. “A sylph. They are little more than legend, even to us.”

  “Well, apparently it’s real, so says the all-knowing Sandra.”

  “It’s not an it, Charlie. It’s a she. Sylphs are said to be female.”

  “Oh. What else do you know about them?”

  “I only know what the legends say.”

  “And what do those say?”

  “Some say that sylphs are a distant relation to the nymphs, that somewhere in our prehistory, they left Elysia for this world, first making their homes in the lakes, glens, mountains, and deep woods of what you now know as the British Isles. It’s said that during this time they evolved, diverged, and developed into shifters of the earth, of this world and its elements.

  “Supposedly they eventually mated with male Picts and Celts of the area, sent the male children back to their fathers or killed them, and kept the females. It’s the females who have the ability to shift. Earth, air, fire, water. I’d guess they draw energy from their surroundings; develop a kind of symbiotic relationship with earth. I have long believed that this is where legends of your nature spirits come from. The Lady of the Lake, I assume you have heard of her?”

  “The one from the King Arthur stories, sure.”

  “Perhaps not fiction, perhaps a water sylph tied to a particular lake. Perhaps, even, still there today.”