The Hour of Dust and Ashes

the Aeva buns were their highest achievement. I handed Emma one and took one for myself, biting into the soft, cloud-like creation, so sweet and light that it melted in your mouth.

Rex came down the hall. “I smell Aeva buns.”

My gaze stayed on Hank. I managed a thank-you through my stuffed cheeks. He gave me a small nod and a half-smile, yet so much swam in his expression—satisfaction, relief—something that spoke of vulnerability. If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d been just as nervous as me about the gift. Christ. That realization disarmed me completely and my heart gave a hard knock.

8

After Hank left, I sat on the porch swing and stared into space. Despite the last hour of fun, I couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that descended after all the distractions had gone.

I pulled one knee up and chewed on my pinky nail.

Em’s head poked out of the front door. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re chewing on your nails and you only do that when you’re worried about something.”

Smart aleck. “Just thinking about Aunt Bryn. And I’m tired. As usual.”

“Go to bed, then. I’ll send Brim up with you. Trust me, having him in the room makes you feel better.”

Before I could turn down the offer, she whistled for the enormous beast, opening the door wider and telling him to stay with me. That was all she had to say and that damn beast would stay with me until she told him otherwise. It was uncanny, their bond; the way they communicated with each other. She didn’t just order him around; she loved that ugly beast. And he loved her right back, enough to run all the way downtown, up fifty flights of stairs, and onto the roof of Helios Tower to save my life.

Brim stuck his big, goofy face in mine, sniffing my breath. I ruffled his ears affectionately.

“Thanks, kid.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The door closed and I smiled to myself. Sometimes she sounded just like me. Other times like Bryn. Always trying out new sayings, trying to grow and figure out who she wanted to be, and how she wanted to present herself to others. It was fascinating to watch. But I worried, too; I worried about this special talent she had for communicating with Brim. Hell, she’d even sent me flying through the air with only the force of her will.

Emma had raw, and apparently very strong, abilities. And more than anything I prayed they wouldn’t hurt her.

I stayed on the swing for another ten minutes or so. “Wbeasty boy, you ready for bed?” He turned away from the screen with a whine. Poor Brim, he looked so lost when Emma left him. “Come on, let’s go in.”

Dutifully, he climbed the stairs and then circled repeatedly in the corner of my bedroom before lying down and settling into relaxed yet watchful guard dog mode. It was like having a gray, bald tiger in the corner, only this one had the jaws of an oversized pit bull and eyes that reflected red in the light.

And for some odd reason, I was starting to think the thing was cute.

I chuckled at that thought, lifted the down comforter, and slid into my cool bed.

I am on the rooftop of Helios Tower watching a sporadic replay of last week’s events. Dawn of the winter solstice. Llyran parts the darkness churning above and then uses its power to slide the lid off the agate sarcophagus.

The agate no longer masks the power inside. An enormous surge radiates over the tower, a pulse of energy so heavy and thick that it steals my breath, a surge that flows through every fiber of my being, so deep and powerful and stunning.

There is fighting all around me. It comes in broken flashes.

Brimstone attacks Llyran.

My chest tightens painfully. I know what comes next. Tears sting my eyes as Llyran kills my daughter’s beloved hellhound.

Then I am crawling toward the sarcophagus, pulling myself up, and grabbing the only weapon I can find. I hold the sword aloft, over Llyran’s head. The hilt sears my hand, but I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Tears slip hot and fat from my eyes as I bring down the weapon with every bit of strength I have left.

And then suddenly, they are gone and I am standing alone beside the agate tomb, gazing down in wonder at what it contains. Llyran is dead. My hand is useless, but I am transfixed as I stare at one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen. A divine being. A First One. Ahkneri. The Creator’s Chosen One. His Star, and then, later, His instrument of Vengeance, Retribution, and Punishment. The sword is back in her grip as though I never touched it, held between her breasts. It is a named weapon, a divine weapon called Urzenamelech, “Anguish by fire.”

And now I understand why because my hand and even my arm burn from the inside out.

The scene shifts in a blur.

Gray landscape. Valleys. Mountains. Cloud-laden sky. Mist-covered ground. All moving by at great speed. Down over foothills covered in grass to flatlands that eventually turn to sand. To a desert and a sparkling river under a blazing white sun. To the walls of a massive temple rearing up on the other side.

Straight up the face of the wall and over the balcony. Between massive columns, so high their tops are lost in shadows. To a courtyard.

“No!” A voice pleads. Feminine. Familiar. And I know immediately who this is. Ahkneri. She speaks in an ancient language that somehow I understand.

Then another voice. “Our purpose is at an end. Our lives here, in this state, are over. It was always meant to be like this. You know is.”

Another denial. Anger. Shouting.

And then the scene is speeding away again back through the columns and out over the land to a dark place, a place of mist and jagged mountains that scrape the sky.

Then inside a tunnel of light so blinding.

Darkness. Inside of the mountains. Into blackness. Earth.

An eye blinks open.

My eyes flew open. A cold, heart-pounding sweat covered me. Foreboding tensed every muscle and dried out my mouth. That dream, or whatever the hell I’d just experienced, struck me with bleak fear.

Brim’s sudden whine made goose bumps spread over my skin.

My sight quickly adjusted to the dark room, and I stayed beneath the covers, moving only my head so I could see the shadow of the hellhound—still lying down, but his head was up, short ears pointed.

His soft panting was the only sound in the room. But still I hesitated to move. I could detect auras, sense presences, and those senses were telling me there was nothing else here. Nothing. Yet it didn’t feel right; something wasn’t right.

Slowly, I turned my head to the other side. The street lamp from outside faintly illuminated my dark curtains. There was nothing in the bedroom. I drew in a deep breath and let it out. It had to have been the odd dream. And Brim’s response could be due in part to the vibes I was giving off.

Just as I decided to turn over and go back to sleep, a small hand slapped down on my right arm in a bruising grip. A second hand landed flat between my breasts, shoving me back into the mattress.

A body materialized into a pert-nosed waif with clear blue eyes, white hair in two long braids, dressed in some type of silvery, body-hugging tube around her flat chest and a matching miniskirt. Her midriff was bare and sported a belly button ring. Oh, and she was floating—I squeezed my eyes closed and opened them again—yep, still hovering over me.

“Do you accept my gift?” she asked vehemently, producing a giant syringe and pressing it against my skin.