Hidden Ashes
Reigning Fae Book 1
AC Washer
HIDDEN ASHES
Copyright © 2021 by A. C. Washer
Cover design by Miblart
Edited by Jennifer Rees
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any number whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historic events is entirely coincidental.
acwasher.com
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To Mrs. Davenport and Dr. Parrish, the teachers whose words keep me going after all these years.
Contents
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
Afterword
About the Author
Chapter 1
I wiped my busted lips with the back of my hand. My caseworker stood over me, holding my brown frizz like someone would hold a dead pet hamster.
“You okay, Kella?”
I spat into a clump of dried-up weeds, trying to get the sour taste out of my mouth.
No. I wasn’t okay. No one would be after driving down a bumpy dirt road for thirty minutes straight. Or upchucking with a bruised rib. Pain meds were great, but they weren’t that great.
“Here, let me get you a mint.” Deena rummaged through her boat-sized black and white purse she’d grabbed in the mad dash from the car to the side of the road.
After a few moments, she yanked out a couple of headscarves and crammed them into the crook of her elbow, digging further in.
“Has to be here somewhere,” Deena muttered.
Deena didn’t look up as I slowly straightened from a crouch. I walked over a few clumps of Colorado’s sun-scorched grass before the rural road’s red dirt puffed up onto the white rubber of my shoes. Aside from the green pine trees flanking this stretch of the road, rural Colorado didn’t look at all like Denver. The overgrown weeds and wildflowers were decked out in all things pointy—spiked tops, thorns, little needles poking out between dried-out leaves. They threatened to impale anyone stupid enough to hike through them.
But once we turned onto the dirt road, the surroundings greened up to where someone thought the place warranted building the campsite we passed a few miles back. There had to be a river or something nearby, otherwise no one would waste their time coming here.
Deena kept telling me that we were close, but each mile we drove made my stomach clench even more. I didn’t realize I’d be so far from Caleb, and guilt had been eating me up inside for ever agreeing to this.
When I got to the open van door, I jerked to a stop.
Keys swung in the van’s ignition, hypnotizing me as they arced back and forth. All of Deena’s promises of financial help after I aged out and getting scholarships because I’d have been in foster care—of it only being for eight months—all of that evaporated.
Sure, all of that had sounded good in the hospital, but Caleb needed me—I felt it in my core. I couldn’t abandon him like this.
And right now, the only thing keeping me from Caleb was freedom.
From my perspective, cars and freedom were pretty much the same thing.
I licked my lips and glanced at Deena, her face still buried in her bag only a couple of yards away. I looked back at the keys dangling from the dash. Normally, I drove stick. An automatic? Too easy.
My heart sped up. Any other time, I’d torpedo my way across the seats and be out of there in five seconds flat, rolled-down window or no.
But bruised ribs kind of put a damper on things like fast escapes. Thanks, Dad.
Slowly, I lowered myself into the car, grabbing my soda and some fast-food napkins as props just in case Deena looked up.
She didn’t.
As gently as I could, I shut the van door. The window was rolled all the way down, and I cursed myself for trying to get some air just a few minutes before. The thunk of the car door locks sounded like a bomb detonating. I glanced back up. Deena was still at the side of the road, digging through her purse.
My leg slid over the center console until I straddled it. I moved my butt over…
“Found them!”
Deena looked up at the same time I whipped my head around. Our eyes met for one long second.
We moved at the same time. I grabbed the wheel, turning the keys in the ignition, and yanked the gear stick into drive. My left foot slipped as I tried to slam on the gas, giving Deena time to slingshot herself to the van.
If I’d been in my dad’s convertible, I could have floored it right then, ripping away from Deena without a hitch. But no. I was in a minivan—a green slug on wheels that let Deena grab onto the door and push her torso through the passenger window before I even got to 5 mph.
I swerved, hoping her rear would drag her back outside of the van. Instead, Deena lurched forward and grabbed the steering wheel, her hands latching onto it like suction cups.
The van jerked right and left as I tried to pry Deena’s hands off even as she wriggled her legs the rest of the way through.
I knew it was over even before Deena shoved me behind her and slammed on the brakes. Pain shot through my ribs, exploding in my eyes like bright pinpricks of light. I didn’t even notice when she killed the engine.
Breath ragged, Deena eyes were glued to a pine tree about a foot away from us. I moaned, clutching my sides… again.
Bit by bit, I eased myself back into the passenger seat.
A few more minutes passed before Deena turned
