Ascension, Laura Hall [black books to read .txt] 📗

The morning dawned clear and bright, with birds chirping and breezes blowing. From a window in my pretty prison, I watched six large and beautiful wolves streak from the compound toward the forest. I envied them. Even hated them, a little.

I was in a mood.

Upon returning to my room the previous night, I’d spent the better part of six excruciating hours twiddling my thumbs. I’d rearranged the furniture before the fireplace, thumbed through two extremely dry tomes on European history, and unpacked my meager belongings into a dresser. I’d even searched every pocket of my overnight bag twice, in case I missed something Mal had snuck in for me. A cell phone. A pack of gum. Even a deck of cards would have been welcome.

Sleep finally claimed me a few hours before dawn, only to abandon me at the first touch of light in the sky. After another marathon shower, I’d spent an inordinate amount of time staring at myself in the mirror.

You look just like your mother.

Maybe I did. I wouldn’t know, as she’d left just after my birth and my father hadn’t kept any pictures of her. At a young age, I’d been sworn to silence on the subject, though Mal had given me a few nuggets over the years.

She’d been beautiful and troubled. Charming and selfish. Emotionally volatile. Before her marriage to my father, Delilah Greer had been a self-professed bohemian, never staying in one city long. Mal had told me that when she’d been pregnant with me, she’d sometimes disappeared for days at a time.

But despite her varied and hurtful idiosyncrasies, my father had been nuts about her. When she’d left him with a newborn and no word, he’d been inconsolable. If it hadn’t been for Mal, and eventually me, he might have gone off the deep end.

Once, I’d come home from college on a surprise visit. When I’d let myself into the house, I’d found my dad drunk in his recliner. Misled by booze and darkness, he’d mistaken me for my long lost mother. My strong, proud father had cried out and fallen to his knees. The following day, it was understood we would never mention the incident.

Outside, leaves swirled across a courtyard of gray stone. The shadows of wolves darted inside the forest line.

I decided to go for a run.

Not giving myself time for second thoughts, I stuffed my feet in sneakers, grabbed the metal keycard from the dresser, and headed out the door. The hallway was silent and empty. As I waited for the elevator, I ignored the itch between my shoulder blades, as well as the impulse to glance behind me every few seconds.

The paneled doors opened without incident. I hurried inside, jabbing the button for the ground floor while glancing periodically down the hall. By the time the elevator started moving, my heart was pounding.

When the doors opened again, I was almost relieved to see Adam’s familiar face. He blinked in surprise. “Where are you going?”

I squared my shoulders. “For a run.”

He took in my sockless, sneakered feet. “Uh-huh.”

Behind him was what looked like the lobby of an expensive hotel. Lofty ceiling, navy walls, glassy, dark wood floors, and elaborate crown molding. An immense, intricate chandelier dominated the central space, hundreds of glimmering crystal strands dripping downward like frozen rain. Artwork hung in intervals along the walls, bold and impressionistic, massive pieces like those you saw in museums but never in private homes. Corridors with arched entries lined both sides of the hall, branching off to God only knew where.

And there were people. A lot of them. Milling around, crossing to and from adjacent hallways. A good number were currently staring at me.

My expression wasn’t as controlled as I thought, because Adam sighed and said, “Come with me. I’ll show you the trailhead.”

I tried to take a deep breath, but it stuck in my throat. “Thanks,” I croaked, but he’d already turned away and was striding toward a set of gargantuan wooden doors. They were, of course, on the far side of the lobby, and reaching them was going to be the equivalent of walking through a minefield of auras.

Sure enough, by the time I caught up with Adam, I was twitching. Fiona Sullivan, Supernatural Punching Bag. Maybe I should have business cards made up.

There were a few daywalker vamps and at least fifteen shifters, and while their auras were invasive, those radiating from the dozen or so mages were plain unsettling. The Ruby, Amber, and Topaz Mages weren’t so bad, but there were seven Emerald and three Sapphire. None of them were bothering to dampen their coronas, as Adam and Mal did.

I’d never taken LSD, but could imagine the effect was something like what I was seeing.

Maybe the repression of my lightning had enhanced my sensitivity, or Mal’s spells had been protecting me more than I’d thought, but I was seriously out of my depth.

By chance, I glanced aside as we passed another archway. Standing beside a familiar, poster-perfect blonde was the Prime. Samantha was glaring at me, while the Prime watched me with half-lidded eyes. His lips curved as I caught his gaze. He gave me a short nod, then returned his attention to his crazy girlfriend.

“Fiona!”

I looked around and saw Declan striding toward us. At the sight of his smiling face, a knot inside me loosened. The closer he came, the more relaxed I felt, until I was virtually purring in his warm, pulsing energy. Just ahead of me, Adam stopped and turned, nodding a greeting to the Alpha.

Declan returned the nod, then grinned down at me. “Where are you off to?”

I returned his smile. “I thought I’d go for a run. You know, plot my escape.”

He laughed and glanced skeptically at my feet. “Without socks?”

I shrugged. “I’ve done it before.”

He nodded perfunctorily. “I had you pegged for a runner.”

My brows went up—he might as well have said nice legs. Declan seemed to arrive at the same conclusion and blushed, which only made me smile wider.

He glanced at Adam. “I’ll take her from here.”

Adam looked between us, expression implacable, then nodded and walked away. A few moments later, I realized that the Western Alpha and I were standing completely still, grinning at each other, while an audience of thirty looked on.

“Waiting on you, buddy,” I said through my teeth.

Declan glanced around, smile fading a little. “Typical,” he muttered, then waved me forward.

September in the Pacific Northwest had a different definition than it did in Southern California. It was freaking cold. I jumped in place to warm my muscles as I waited for Declan to return in running clothes. He’d left me at a trailhead and sprinted back to the sprawling, modern palace that was the Prime’s compound.