The Hour of Dust and Ashes

A faint smile tugged on her full lips, but didn’t reach her eyes. “Haven’t had nachos for breakfast in a while … What did Alessandra have to say?”

Emma had stayed with Bryn last night so Rex and I could go to Underground and see the oracle. My visit wasn’t exactly a secret. And, though it was unspoken between us, we both knew I couldn’t share details with someone who might still be possessed. I hated that part … Hated to think there was something else inside of my little sister pulling the strings, wanting to know what Alessandra said, wanting to get to the hidden sarcophagus …

It was clear from Bryn’s look that she understood the direction of my thoughts. “Don’t worry about it.” She pushed away from the wall. “Come on, I’ll take you to see Aaron.”

Bryn turned to the guard. I’d tagged him the minute I walked into her temporary living space. Human. Midthirties. Typical mage aura—a wash of intelligent greens. Warlock tattoo—a black dragon swallowing its tail, and always placed around the right wrist. It all equated to a bodyguard more than capable for the job. “Charlie and I are going outside,” she told him in a robotic tone.

“She’ll be fine with me.” His dark eyes met mine. “Why don’t you go take a break? We’ll be back in a little while.”

He stood, clipping his phone on his hip. “I’ll follow behind.”

Ah. Yes. It would be just like Aaron to give the orders where Bryn was concerned. Orders that’d be followed to the letter. I nodded in reply.

No doubt, every single one of her guards was a warlock.

Since warlocks were the warrior sect of the mage class, Aaron’s decision made perfect sense. Not only were they skilled mages dedicated to study, craft, and knowledge, but they trained regularly in the art of warfare. And since Aaron was a warlock himself, it made even more sense. He’d trust them more than any other. Even if they knew Bryn had a hand in his death, they’d still put their lives on the line for her, because Aaron had asked them to. Simple as that. Warlocks were a very tight band of brothers.

Bryn took the lead, going down the wide second-floor hallway toward the service stairs at the back of the house, instead of the main, sweeping staircase that commanded the front. Her blue tri-colored skirt swished around her legs and her ankle bracelets tinkled like wind chimes in a slow breeze as we went; the sound so normal and comforting. So … Bryn-like that it gave me renewed hope.

The warlock stayed true to his word and trailed us at a leisurely pace.

Once we were through the massive kitchen and out the side door into large herb and vegetable garden, Bryn slowed enough for me to walk on the stone path beside her. “I’ve never been in the back before,” I said in a low voice. “It’s huge.”

“It’s hard to see everything with the darkness, but there’s a swimming pool, veranda, gazebo, patio … The grounds and gardens make up about seven acres. The woods, or the park as the League calls it, make up another three. And then the school”—she flung a gentle hand to her right—“makes up another five.”

If she hadn’t sounded like an emotionless robot, the tour guide bit would’ve been interesting. As it was, it only cemented the fact that she was changing.

“Wasn’t always like this,” she said.

After buying the old Mordecai House a few years ago, the League set about buying up property around the mansion. They cleared the land, put their earth mages to work, and created a park-like setting within downtown city limits.

Even though it was morning, the sky was dark, the kind of deep ominous color that heralded thunderstorms and tornadoes. Every once in a while a green flash would snake like otherworldly lightning through the churning mass of gray and bathe the ground in a fleeting, eerie glow.

There was enough outdoor lighting to see over the lawn dotted with old oak trees to the school where street lamps illuminated the massive, gray stone church and monastery, which had been converted into the League’s private school. One of the most exclusive in the country. One that Emma begged to attend, now that her secret was out and her abilities known.

“So how’s the school coping with the darkness?” I asked, wondering if attendance had been affected.

Bryn shrugged. “The kids are on break now. Maybe some won’t come back. I don’t know. We just installed sunlamps in the classrooms. Our teachers are scholars and crafters, so to them the darkness is fascinating, an opportunity to study and learn. Before break, they were teaching Abuse of Power. Rituals. Properties of Raw Energy. History of Charbydon, et cetera … They take full advantage of this new development. It’s a good school. Emma would do well here.”

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