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  Falling Ashes

  Ashes to Ashes Book Two

  Annie Anderson

  Falling Ashes (Ashes to Ashes Series)

  © Copyright 2016 Annie Anderson

  Published by Annie Anderson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Falling Ashes is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Editing by Alchemy and Words

  Cover Images by Shutterstock @Martin Capek and @Honored_member

  Cover Art by MadHat Books

  Formatting by Annie Anderson

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all those who think they can’t go on. You can. I know you can. One more minute, one more step, one more breath. You can.

  I believe in you.

  Contents

  Glossary of Terms

  Warning

  Olivia & John - See where they began

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  RISING ASHES

  Are You Part of the Legion Yet?

  Never Miss A Thing!

  About the Author

  Also by Annie Anderson

  Glossary of Terms

  Aegis – A special type of Phoenix outside the Primary’s control. An Aegis can shield themselves against offensive attacks with an electrified shield. Most Aegis have trouble controlling their abilities and are nearly extinct. Because of their shield, Oracles and Seers have trouble locating the Aegis, and, therefore, have trouble seeing their future, penetrating their mind, or predicting their deaths.

  Binding/Bond – The bond between an Oracle and Soldier is similar to an arranged marriage. An Oracle does not choose her Soldier and in most cases is not allowed to see them prior to the blinding ceremony. The Primary decides for her and assigns the Soldier whom she believes is a perfect match.

  Covenant – The rules and laws of the Phoenix as set forth by the original families.

  Fireskin – When phased, a Phoenix can blaze an aura of fire around their body known as Fireskin. It does not damage clothing, but can be used to burn surroundings and enemies when enough concentration is used.

  Gentry – Regular Phoenixes with no additional powers. The main function of the Gentry is to support the Oracles, Soldiers, and Scholars and to receive word from Oracles so they may send souls on to be reborn.

  Guardian – A protector in the Wraith culture.

  Healer – A Phoenix outside the Primary’s control. Healers have extensive medical knowledge and possess abilities that can speed the curative process of wounds inflicted with Morganite.

  Morganite – a rare gemstone of the Beryl family known for its rich orange to pink color. Lethal to Phoenixes.

  Oracle – A Phoenix originally born as a Seer. At maturity, a Seer is transformed into an Oracle by having their eyes permanently removed so their precognitive powers may grow and in turn, have enough advanced warning to change the future.

  Otherside – Be it Heaven or Hell, the place the souls go when they pass on.

  Phasing – A process of transformation from one’s resting form to the ethereal. Phoenixes and Wraiths can only ferry souls in their phased form. One’s phased form is dependent on their species, and partial phases are possible depending on the control of the individual. A Phoenix may partially phase in that their Fireskin may emerge alone. A Wraith’s partial could singularly involve the changes to the teeth, talons, or eyes.

  Phoenix – A perpetually regenerating creature with an indeterminate life span. Appears human when resting, but when fully phased, displays Fireskin and Wings. They can heal from any and all wounds unless the wound comes into contact with Morganite. They congregate in groups known as Legions, led by a Primary Oracle as their leader. There are different types of Phoenixes with added abilities.

  Primary – Among the Phoenix, this is the oldest or most powerful Oracle. The Primary is the leader of the Legion. Presides directly over Oracles and Scholars, cultivating their knowledge for generations to come. A Primary controls what the Oracles under her see. Due to their age, it is possible for the Primary to consult with other ethereal creatures including Witches, sorcerers, mages and the like. After a certain age, a Primary’s power can include the casting of spells, controlling of the minds of her retinue, etc. These actions are against the laws of the Covenant.

  Revenant – If a Wraith becomes ill or insane, they can become a Revenant. A Revenant eats the heart of the evil after they have died. As the madness consumes them, they will begin to eat the hearts of any dead soul they come across. Typically, they do not kill for their meals but eat the flesh of the already dead.

  Scholar – A type of Phoenix with supreme intellect. They record the Oracle’s visions and analyze patterns to avoid threats to the Legion.

  Secondary – The heir to the Primary. Presides directly over Soldiers and performs bonding ceremonies.

  Seer – A type of Phoenix who sees visions of death so that they may direct the Gentry Phoenixes to the dead or dying to send the souls on to be reborn. Seers cannot change the outcome of their visions. They are recognized by the milky consistency to their iris and pupil.

  Selection – The process of assigning a job to young Phoenixes.

  Soldier – A guardian and protector of an Oracle. A Soldier’s role can evolve from protector to lover to husband. During an Oracle’s blinding ceremony, they are bound to a Guardian, thereby nullifying any marriage, and linking the physical and mental from one body to another. If an Oracle is bound and injured, the Guardian is also wounded.

  Wings – Phoenixes can fly and display wings when they have phased. Phasing and displaying of wings is initially an agonizing very painful process but loses its agony after full maturity. The wings can damage clothing and nearby objects. Every Phoenix’s wings differ, and bonded mates’ wings usually match. When a Phoenix is sick, near death or if their soul has turned evil, the wings will begin to molt, shedding their feathers rapidly.

  Wraith – A perpetually regenerating creature with indeterminate lifespan. A Wraith appears human when resting, but when fully phased the iris and sclera of their eyes bleed to black, they grow talons and fangs and can hiss like snakes. Most Wraiths can move from one place to another on a wisp of smoke after they reach maturity. As they age the distances, they can travel increase. A Wraith’s main function is to ferry the souls of the evil to hell.


  Warning

  This book is intended for readers aged 18 and older. Within these pages are situations containing effluent cursing, torture, blood, guts, gore, sex, love, despair, war, corruption and death.

  If you are unable to handle these situations, I would advise putting this book down immediately.

  Because shit’s about to get real.

  Olivia & John - See where they began

  John Black’s throne has been stolen from beneath him. Olivia Theroux was never meant to meet him. In the midst of a coming war, these two wandering souls find love in the least likely of places - in the heart of an enemy.

  * * *

  Grab the thrilling prequel to the Ashes to Ashes series by Annie Anderson for FREE. Are you ready to burn?

  Prologue

  MENA - 1965

  Mama always told me never to use my power.

  Never, ever.

  Because using it could get me killed. Or worse, she would say, because death is not the worst thing.

  Death is just a step in life.

  I roll my mother’s words over in my mind as I try to move without being touched through the throng of teenagers hell-bent on getting to the movie theater just behind me. One little shock, one little slip, and it’s all over.

  No more disguise.

  No more hiding.

  No more normal life – or normal for me anyway.

  It is so hard to keep my power leashed. Holding it inside me for days and days, waiting until I can get to a secluded spot in the desert to release this pent up urge. Like the revving of an engine just before the green light, my body thrums, waiting for the press of the pedal.

  Since maturity, it’s getting harder and harder to hold it, harder to keep inside. That’s all I’ve been doing. Since birth, I’ve been playing normal, while my twin lived a normal life. She never had to bite her tongue or mask her natural reactions. Never had to watch every single step as if one mistake would tip her hand. She never had to hide, and that’s all I’ve ever done.

  We were born of the same womb, but couldn’t be more different. I’m tall, she’s short. I’m quiet, she’s loud. I think before I speak, she doesn’t.

  She’s a Seer.

  I’m an Aegis.

  I turn my thoughts from my twin, who left me in the hell of my own solitude so many years ago, and try and tamp my emotions down.

  The bulbs in the marquee are shiny and new, the adolescents giggle and push as they move past. The times change so quickly. Just ten years ago, the girls were wearing poodle skirts and saddle shoes, now they are wearing miniskirts and tall boots. Strange how quickly things can turn on a dime.

  I hasten my steps but do my best to appear calm and unaffected. To appear like I’m not aware someone is watching me. I’ve felt eyes on me for days now. I know someone is out there, lurking in the shadows.

  I’ve been good, fulfilling my duties as a Gentry with aplomb. I don’t deserve to be checked up on like a child. I’m practically living at the funeral home where I work evenings masquerading as a mortician’s apprentice. It’s not like I have friends, or a lover, or a life. There’s too much to risk, and I have too much to hide.

  I tug on the Peter Pan collar of my navy blue polka-dotted shift dress. It’s still hot here in Phoenix, Arizona; it never does get very cool, especially compared to the cold, wet of the Oregon wilderness I used to call home. Every time I think of my city’s name I chuckle a little. A Phoenix living in Phoenix. My lips turn up into a smile, and I forget the eyes that are watching me for a moment.

  I shouldn’t have.

  I should have been paying attention to the alley to my left, but stupid me, I was trying too hard not to shock the kids pushing past.

  I should have known my time was up. I should have left a long time ago, but I so foolishly held out hope that one day my family would be together again. That one day, my sister would be home, and I wouldn’t have to hide who I was from the other half of my soul. That one day, my parents would trust us to keep ourselves safe.

  I should have remembered that as soon as I made my first squalling wail in this world, I was never going to get what I wanted. But I forgot, for a moment. I let my guard down for a single second. At that moment, as I pass a darkened alley on a hot Arizona evening, hard, cold hands wrap around my throat and snap my neck.

  And the perfect shiny lights of that brand new movie theater were the last good things I see for a very long time.

  1

  Prison Sucks

  MENA

  Consciousness and I aren’t friends. Every time I wake up, Iva finds a new way to torture me. I stopped feeling the pain a long time ago, but it’s not just the physical pain for her. She likes to break me down, tear at my mind, my soul – hammering the rock to rubble and starting all over again. I guess I should be proud. I’ve never broken. Not completely.

  Except that once, my mind snidely whispers, but I try to ignore it. Losing it just that once was enough to remind me never to break again. But I try not to think about it since dwelling on that once is enough to make me lose what’s left of my mind. I need to keep sharp right now. I keep my eyes closed and pray for a reprieve that I know will never come.

  I sense two people in my new cell.

  Iva moved me here herself just a week ago. To bring me closer and draw the pain out longer and longer until I smashed my head in on the stone wall just to get a break. If prison taught me anything, it was how easily a skull can be crushed.

  Even with my eyes closed, I can see the dank, dark stone tomb Iva has me housed in. No windows, no light. Little bigger than a broom closet, these rough walls are different than the cinderblock ones I have grown so used to. They look much older than the rest of the house, or what little I’ve seen of it. I can imagine the visitor’s placement, near the heavy oak and steel door. The people I sense are foreign to me. Iva must be stepping up her game, bringing in new players.

  I hear a rumble of a man’s low voice and then a pained gasp. Then, I hear a voice I haven’t heard in over one hundred years.

  “That’s Mena. That’s my sister.”

  At her gasping sob, my eyes flash open, and I see a small blurry hand hesitate before brushing the crusted hair that is stuck to my cheek. My eyes haven’t quite figured out how to focus.

  “Mena-girl, can you hear me?” Aurelia asks as she touches my shoulder. She pulls her hand back in surprise; she doesn’t expect me to flinch away from her or scurry in a backward crab walk off the cot, putting my back against the closest wall. But that’s what I do even when I tell my mouth to open, and my voice to say hello. Apparently my body is working independently of my brain on this one.

  Especially when, instead of the greeting I mean to say, I start hissing at her instead. My breaths speed up, and my eyes roll in my head.

  So much for keeping my mind sharp.

  I hear a thud… thud… thud… my body moves of its own volition, slamming me into the wall, trying to smash its way through the stone, I guess. My body is doing what it used to do in the beginning: flee. And then Aurelia is rushing me. She grips my arms and yanks me away from the wall.

  “Stop hurting yourself. Please, Mena-girl. No one is going to harm you,” she says soothingly. She cradles me in her warm arms, oblivious to the stink and dirt and dried blood on my skin. She doesn’t seem to care that I probably smell like a sewer. She whispers soft platitudes in my ear and eventually my breaths ease and my eyes focus.

  And all the while my brain is clear, but my body sings another tune. But my twin knows, she knows what torture is like.

  Iva bragged about ripping the skin off of her hide so many times. She told me of the cuts she made and the blood she drew. Other than wielding the blade on me — that was her favorite pastime — telling me of my twin and her mate’s torture was a close second. So I know she can feel my pain. She feels that terrible ache along with me.

  “Mena-girl, I know you’re in there, and I know it’s hard for you to talk. Do you remember the yellow flowers we used
to pick when we were kids? I can’t remember their name, but we would pick them for Mama and put them in that green glass pitcher that sat on the kitchen windowsill. And she would sneeze. Remember? She would sneeze the house down since she was allergic to the flowers, but she wouldn’t move them because we gave them to her. Remember, little sister?”

  That comment seems to be the key to unlocking my lips because I fire back, “You’re only fifteen minutes older than me.” My voice is awful, hoarse and cracking like a chain-smoking grandmother.

  “There she is. You with me, little sister? It’s just you in there, right?” Aurelia asks, tilting her head so she can see my face.

  Most people would shudder at the sight of my twin’s pale pupilless eyes, but they are a balm to me. I’ve dreamed of seeing her for so long, I can’t begin to fathom what her actually being here might mean for me. Her black hair is longer than I remember, and it lies wild and loose around her shoulders. Her skin is decorated with beautiful bright colors and pictures. Maybe when we have time, she’ll show me.

  If we have time.

  I frown for a moment when I contemplate her question before I realize she’s talking about Iva. I’ve heard the whispers in the halls. The Gentry’s quiet, fearful whispering of Iva taking over minds, making Soldiers into puppets, bending once-strong Phoenixes to her will. I’d hate to tell her that Iva tried. She tried so hard to get into my head.