Falling Ashes Read online

  Mena’s spoon clatters in her bowl and she lets out a giant yawn.

  “Okay, Princess, why don’t you grab a shower, Ian can examine me, and then we can get some more rest? Sound like a plan?”

  “Yeah,” she says sleepily, slowly moving from the bed and padding sluggishly to the en-suite bath. She doesn’t take any clothes with her, and Aurelia rolls her eyes as she snatches Mena’s bag from a leather armchair and trails after her.

  “Did anyone ask John about it?” I ask, and I wish I hadn’t. Ian’s face falls, and I know it’s bad.

  “He’s not doing so great, Ash,” he says as he opens his med kit and takes out a stethoscope fitting it in his ears before placing the cold metal over my heart. He listens in several locations and then switches to my back.

  “Deep breath,” he instructs, and I comply.

  “Your heart sounds good, and your lungs are clear. I’m pretty sure you’re completely healed. You don’t even have a scar.”

  “How bad is he?” I murmur, ignoring my clean bill of health, and Ian shrugs, swallowing hard as he grits his teeth.

  “He’s got maybe a week,” he croaks, “And Voyt is coming here to talk about succession. Since he’s the next male in the bloodline – however slight his claim to that bloodline might be – he wants to speak to John about handing over the reins early. He says there is a call for war with the Phoenixes and he’s been recruiting. Evan is beside herself, she’s so pissed, and West can’t calm her down.”

  Like he could if she decided she didn’t want to be calm. Evan isn’t one to just sit there and take some distant third cousin twice removed stealing her father’s throne. Not to mention, we all know that if Wraiths are behind Olivia’s poisoning, Voyt is at the top of the list of suspects.

  “Voyt— that fucking douchebag. He makes Cam look like Mr. Congeniality. I haven’t had a single conversation with that asshole that didn’t make me want to punch him in his smarmy fucking face,” I growl. “West is going to bail isn’t he?” I ask, less like a question and more like a statement. I know how this is going to go. Bad.

  “Probably. You know how he feels about being a leader,” Ian grouses.

  “It’s bullshit, is what it is. He’s been the only one John has truly trusted. West knows everything. Every family, every transgression. He knows who to trust and who to kill. Hell, ninety-eight percent of the people who needed killing, West is the one who killed them.”

  “And that’s the problem,” Ian whispers and it occurs to me that West might hate himself more than he hates the throne.

  This has horrible fucking idea written all over it.

  20

  Dressing for War

  MENA

  No one needs this right now. Not me. Not Ash. Certainly not John, and especially not Evan.

  “This is such a waste of time,” Aurelia grouses as she shrugs into a black suit jacket to cover the loaded shoulder holster under her right arm and spine holster at her back. “You know how this is going to go,” she complains as she adjusts her black silk tank to cover a bit more of her generous bosom. She fiddles with the jacket at the point of her shoulder and the pin-tucked ruffle at her back. Aurelia’s long, black hair is pulled up off her neck and secured in a full topknot with several deadly-looking metal spikes, and her makeup is done up to full smoke, highlighting the paleness of her pupilless eyes and the sharpness of her cheekbones.

  She moves to re-secure the throwing knives in her boot and then flips the wide leg of her black trousers over the holster. This is the third time she’s checked her weapons, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was nervous. But I do know better. She’s not the least bit nervous; she’s pissed. She’d rather go on an assassination mission than sit and play politics with someone she plans on killing anyway.

  “You know the last time I wore a suit around you, shit went awry,” she grumbles to Evan. “This time will be no fucking different. Bad shit is coming, Evan. Bad, bad shit.”

  “And that is why I need you armed, but you need to look professional, and your weapons need to be concealed. You have to represent your people. I can’t find Nicola; she isn’t answering us, and headquarters has gone silent. I can’t find Kyle anywhere, and I haven’t seen him since he left with her before the house was attacked. We are on the brink of a major shit storm. I need to feel Voyt out. Dad needs to know what we’re dealing with to buy us some time to diffuse the situation. I can’t just lop his head off and say ‘nanny-nanny-foo-foo.’ I need to be diplomatic - until diplomacy shits the bed and then I can make him die slowly,” Evan explains, and her voice has taken a lively quality that I hadn’t heard from her in the last week.

  She dusts imaginary lint from her dark wine-colored evening gown and adjusts the beaded sleeve. I admire the design of the dress; the bodice is a high crew neck, but mostly see-through mesh with slashes of beading that protects her modesty. One sleeve is the same fabric of her long flowing skirt, but the other is the mesh and beaded design of the bodice. What tips the sexy scales is the hip-height slit that exposes one shapely leg and one of the five-inch, suede, platform peep-toes adorning her dainty feet.

  We abandoned the cabin in Grand Lake for the cliff-top house two days ago. In that time, I have procured funeral clothing, an extra black tailored suit, and an evening dress that remarkably covers me from neck to wrists to toes and still makes me feel beautiful. Today, I get to wear the suit. Evan and Aurelia said these clothes were necessary for the coming meetings. Other than the one today, I’m unsure of what other meetings I’ll need to attend and don’t know why I even need to go to this one.

  “And I have to be there because?” I ask for maybe the hundredth time in the last six hours. I don’t need to be here, I don’t think. I have already helped as much as I am able.

  After Ash awoke, I did what I needed to. After a full twenty-four hours of sleep, I gave some of my energy to Olivia and John. I didn’t even need a spell – not that I couldn’t cast one. I’ve heard the spell roughly a million times in the last fifty years. All I had to do was touch their hands, and their bodies hungrily pulled the excess from my bones without the agony of draining me dry. It felt organic, and I relished a use for my Aegis besides destruction. Olivia’s eyes opened for the first time in a week and John’s color came back. It won’t sustain them, and I didn’t cure them, but it will stave off death for a little while.

  I just wish I could do more.

  “We need you as a show of strength. You and I both know that it’s likely that Voyt’s men are the ones who attacked Asher’s house,” Aurelia says as she adjusts the jacket of my suit.

  While her suit has a bit more coverage so she can conceal her weapons, my jacket has a deep v neckline prominently displaying the lightening bolt Aegis marking on my neck. I think showing my mark would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull, but what do I know? The suit also displays the relatively minor scarring on my chest, but I actually don’t mind it, mostly because of the nude beaded camisole I’m wearing underneath. I feel sexy in this outfit. My jacket is a slim cut with exposed velvet pockets on the front, and the ankle-length trousers showing off my height and the four-inch, thin-heeled, pointed-toe pumps.

  “We want him to know you are alive, and you’re strong, and you support us. You do support us, right?” Evan asks as she fidgets and then masks it by smoothing her already meticulously coifed hair styled in a delicately messy chignon.

  “You know I support you. You know Ash does too. Don’t ask dumb questions. You may not know me as well as my twin, but on the real stuff, our beliefs have always been the same.” Evan looks from me to Aurelia, and Aurelia nods in agreement.

  “What she said. Quit being dumb. Okay, I’m ready. I’m going to find my husband, kiss him and see if there is any other prep we need to do,” Aurelia says as she opens the bathroom door and flounces out of it. Evan goes to follow her, but I gently clutch her elbow. I’m not shocking people anymore, and that scares me as much as it makes me smile. I worry I won’t h
ave enough in me to be an offensive weapon. That I cannot protect them.

  “A little red-haired birdie told me a very long time ago that you would be instrumental in taking Iva out. She told me I had to do whatever I could to help you. So that’s what I’m doing.”

  Evan nods, raising her eyebrows and asks, “Nicola?”

  “Yep. So if she can’t be reached it is either because she has a reason or they have done something to her. She wants you to be Queen, she told me herself.” Evan inhales a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “How are you doing?” I press.

  “I’ve been better, but I’m standing, right? I’m doing better than my Dad and a fuck ton better than my Mom. And I love a man who will not keep me. Even if marrying me – a woman he claims to love – means saving our race from that evil, twisted, murdering son of a bitch. So, I’m super,” she says sarcastically with a half shrug and a bitter smile.

  “I have no advice to give you, Evan, but I can say this: you are a survivor. It may be the worst time in your life, but you will survive this. I promise. Even if I have to kill everyone in that room myself,” I say waggling my eyebrows at the last bit. Evan huffs out a laugh and gives me a wan smile.

  “Let’s go, Short Stuff.” We link arms and head from Evan’s opulent bathroom through an equally sumptuous bedroom down a posh and regal hallway all the way to a sitting area filled with heavy furniture, crystal lamps, and priceless Ming vases. It is also filled with large men in very sharp suits. My eyes immediately go to Asher, and I release Evan to go to my husband.

  Husband.

  Who would have thought I could have this much, this quickly? Ash is everything I ever wanted for myself, and I need to keep him safe. To keep him safe, I need to present a front of a leader, even if that is the last thing I am.

  “You look beautiful, Princess,” Ash murmurs in my ear as he dips his head to kiss the tender spot right underneath my ear. With my heels on, I’m eye to eye with him, and I love it. I run my hands over the arms of his suit jacket, admiring the way it clings to his broad shoulders and highlights his slim waist. I want to peel him out of it, but I refrain from doing so by a very thin margin. “I love this suit. I’m going to have a grand time taking it off you later,” he murmurs in my ear inciting a shiver from me.

  The ring of the doorbell comes before I’m ready, and I feel a horrible chill steal its way down my spine. John steps into the room before the door opens for our guests and takes his place, sitting in a large, cream linen wingback chair. Evan positions herself in the seat at her father’s right; Asher leaves me to stand behind John’s chair, and Cam joins him. Aurelia and I take the loveseat to John’s left with me sitting closest to Ash. Rhys stands behind Aurelia and West behind Evan despite the irritated purse to her lips. Ian moves to the shadows and Aidan goes to answer the door.

  Here we go.

  Three men stalk into the sitting room behind Aidan, and I can tell already how this will unfold. One man is leading the trio of newcomers. His perfectly coifed dark hair is swept back from his angular face. He has the face of a model, all sharp cheekbones and full lips, thick slashes of eyebrows highlighting pale eyes. He’s tall, taller than Ash, and I dislike him on sight. It’s not just the horrible timing of his visit or the almost forced politeness I see on his face – it is the underlying expression, the one behind the fake remorse and false loyalty. It’s the hunger. Either for the throne or power – it’s there.

  He looks like an asshole.

  The two men trailing behind him are both dark haired and dark eyed, looking similar enough in features that they could be brothers or close cousins. They share the angle of their cheekbones and square of their jaws. Both dressed in dark suits, the one on the left is only marginally distinguished from his counterpart by the long hair pulled back from his face into a low ponytail.

  Asher told me that news of John and Olivia’s condition started filtering through the Wraith community about a month ago. Just whispers at first, and that is how John knew there had to be either eyes in the house or eyes on it. That’s when they started to move, and he hid Olivia away in a house even Asher had no idea where it was located. Her Guardians were left in the dark, sent to the far reaches of the earth to find a cure for their mistress. After Javier had taken Aurelia, it was clear who the eyes belonged to, but unclear how far his reach was.

  John stands to greet Voyt, reaching to shake his guest’s hand before retaking his seat. Voyt sits in the wingback opposite John, his minions standing at his back, mirroring Asher and Cam. Even though the room is tense, every person seems to be lounging in their seats or standing idly waiting for this farce to begin.

  “Voyt, I have some people I need to introduce you to before we begin our discussion of succession.” He gestures to me first, “This is Mena Constantine, the last living full-blooded Aegis and rightful leader of the Phoenixes.” I let my Aegis free for a moment waggling my sparking fingers at our guests. He then gestures to my sister, “And this is Aurelia Constantine, the last living Seer, the only Aegis hybrid, and the woman who turned Iva to ash.”

  Then, John stands.

  “And I’m sure you’ve met my wife,” he says as Olivia strides into the room.

  21

  Ashes to Ashes

  MENA

  Olivia is a small woman, not much taller than Evan, her stark white – once blonde – hair is pulled back from her face in a delicate twist, and she’s impeccably dressed in a blood-red chiffon evening gown. The dress is a Grecian, one-shoulder design with a fitted bodice and thigh-high slit. She looks beautiful and elegant and regal, and I think I love her a little bit that she has pulled off such a coup without looking the least bit ruffled.

  I glance back at our guests, and their expressions are not what I expected. I expected Voyt to be angry, to show some sign of distress that Olivia is not quite on her deathbed, but he’s not. He seems pleased that his Queen appears to be on the mend. However, it’s his Guardians that seem angry.

  Interesting.

  “Olivia, my Queen, I am so happy to see you,” Voyt says as he stands, reaching for her hand and bringing his mouth to her fingers in a full bow. He rises from his position saying, “I am delighted to see that you are feeling better. When I received word that you were ill, I wanted to take a meeting to show my support and to propose a few ideas to you and your husband.” No one in this room misses the fact he said husband instead of King, or that he is deferring to Olivia instead of John. Voyt releases Olivia’s hand and returns to his seat, and she takes the open spot on the love seat next to Evan.

  “I am happy to see you as well, Voyt. How is your mother? I haven’t spoken to Madeline in ages,” she croons, her naturally upturned midnight blue eyes turn soft.

  “She is wonderful, ma’am. She speaks of you often.”

  “Oh, that is wonderful. Thank you so much for thinking of us. We appreciate you taking the time to come to see us. Especially given the circumstances in the community,” Olivia says, her voice and expression like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  “Yes, ma’am. It is a dark time. I wanted to discuss plans for the future. While I am technically the rightful male heir, I do not wish to step on anyone’s toes. I want to make sure a leader is chosen and appropriately trained, but now that I see you are both so healthy, I would rather talk about your intentions to settle the unrest in our community.”

  John then reaches out and takes Evan’s hand, “We do, in fact, have a plan for succession and a way to quell the Wraith unrest, but they do have some issues. Mena, here, should be the leader of the Phoenixes. As she is mated to a Wraith, I am certain, once she takes her rightful position, Phoenix-Wraith relations should heal rather quickly. And as far as succession, I’m not sure if you have met my daughter, Evangeline.”

  “I have seen her in passing, but we had not been formally introduced,” he says to John before addressing Evan, “And I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Evangeline.” His voice isn’t quite a purr but almost, and his face is hungry.r />
  I realize that his hunger before wasn’t necessarily for the throne or power, but it might be for Evan. Voyt smiles earnestly at her, almost sheepish, and his expression earns him a menacing growl from West. West looks three seconds away from losing his ever-loving mind, and his phase is almost immediate. His sharp talons rip into the upholstery of the couch creating gaping gashes in the fabric.

  “Oh! My apologies. I had no idea you were mated,” Voyt says abashed, and his face turns immediately from hopeful to crestfallen.

  “I’m not,” Evan insists, glancing back at West with enough venom in her gaze to melt him on sight. Something passes between them, and I realize that Voyt – if he’s not a plotting, treasonous murderer – could be a viable option for Evan. West has not claimed her, has no plans to, and from what I’m guessing, this has been going on a very long time. Asher waited approximately two days to claim me. I could not imagine waiting for someone to deign to accept me. That would burn my soul so badly; I’m not sure I would recover.

  “He is my Guardian,” she says not taking her eyes away from West, and his face seems to turn to stone. Before the shutters fall, I can see the agony for a moment, and then the moment is gone.

  “Evangeline is not mated,” John cuts in, “Nor does she have any plans to change that fact. As my only living heir, it was against the covenant for her to take the position of Queen without a husband – a rather archaic custom now that we are in the twenty-first century. However, I have written amendments to certain rules of the covenant, and when I pass she will be Queen. With or without a husband.”

  “While this is most irregular, I can see why you would choose that path,” Voyt responds, and since he seems one of the most diplomatic people I’ve ever met, I almost don’t notice he did not give his opinion one way or the other regarding John’s pronouncement. Instead, Voyt, who seems to be an expert at avoiding thorny topics, moves to continue the introductions. “Please allow me to introduce my Guardians, Segundo,” Voyt points to ponytail guy, “and Guillermo,” he gestures to the gentleman with shorter hair. “They are brothers to your Javier. They haven’t spoken to him in weeks. Is he here? We would love to see him and Carver as well.”