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

wouldn’t be so sure,” grumbled Adam. “Besides, it’s not that I distrust Fiona, it’s that I distrust her discipline.”

Despite the growth in our personal relationship from animosity to not distrust, I took exception to his statement.

“I went years before Mal perfected the spell to camouflage my charge. I managed fine all by my lonesome.”

Which was more or less a lie, unless I measured success as not killing anyone while living in a basement with rubber gym mats attached to the floor and walls. I’d learned to ground, and had slowly built a tolerance for situations and emotions that triggered my charge, but really I just survived.

Nowadays I did my best not to think about that dark time. Ever.

The Prime, of course, knew my thoughts, but Adam didn’t. He said contritely, “Those years must have been difficult. May I ask how, exactly, Malcolm’s spell aided you?”

I resisted the impulse to refuse. “The spell dampened my charge enough for me to have some semblance of a normal life. Over the years, as my power increased, so did my discipline.” Adam snorted and I smiled smugly. “The spell grew and changed with me, and became more about averting accidental touch from bystanders. Like a Keep Out sign.”

I heard the connotation in the words as soon as I spoke them, and was grateful for the dim car interior. Not that I could hide the rise of my body temperature from the Prime.

The men were silent for all of ten seconds, then burst out laughing.

“Grow up!” I snapped. It was only a few moments, though, before I felt my lips quirk. “Assholes.”

“She’s laughing,” murmured Adam.

Passing headlights illumined the Prime’s crinkled eyes in the mirror. “Yes, she is. Like I said, marvelously resilient.”

“She’d have to be to survive the initial lightning strike.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you’re going to talk about me like I’m not here, can we at least turn on some music?”

A button was pressed on the console and Chopin’s nocturnes for piano floated from speakers behind my head. I sighed in pleasure and caught a pleased smile in the rearview.

After a few minutes of mellow silence, Adam asked, “Have you considered having Declan teach her the fundamentals of physical tracking? Perhaps it would create a framework of reference for when she comes into her power.”

“I have considered it, yes.”

“And?”

There was a long pause. “I’d like to see if she can mature intuitively first, without muddying the waters.”

Adam’s grunt sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“Fiona,” said the Prime, “I know you’re listening. Distract me from the monotony of the road.”

Adam barked a short laugh. “That means he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Fiona? How was lunch?”

My bubble of Chopin-inspired peace burst. “It was fantastic,” I said with feigned levity. “Everyone was so welcoming and kind. I especially enjoyed your girlfriend accidentally spilling her scalding blood-coffee on me.”

Silence.

I settled back to listen to the music.

“We’re here,” said Adam, voice reedy with relief.

We’d left the highway ten minutes ago and now rolled to a stop on a dark, narrow road. Trees clogged the skyline around us, blotting out the stars and the sliver of moon.

The Prime didn’t wear a seat belt and was out of the car first. Before following, Adam turned from the passenger seat to face me.

“If you lose control, I’m going to surround you in a ward that will contain your power. I’m telling you now because you won’t be able to escape. Don’t try. Do you understand?”

I nodded. Making sure my voice was firm, I told him, “I won’t hurt the Prime.” As an afterthought, I added, “Or you.”

He watched me for a moment, then nodded shortly. We exited the car and walked toward the Prime, who was pacing the road with measured steps.

“He’s searching for the scent of blood.”

“I got that from the sniffing noises.”

Adam grunted, mouth twitching. For several more minutes the Prime continued pacing, then he stiffened and turned, striding swiftly from the road onto damp dirt and pine needles.

Squatting, he lowered his face until it hovered an inch from the ground. “Here,” he snapped. “Get the kit. It’s an infinitesimal sample, but I think I can capture it.”

Adam raced to the trunk, returning moments later with a small duffel bag. I hung back, leaning against the warm hood of the car. The cold was deep and piercing, its fingers climbing beneath my wool coat. I had a sudden, powerful longing for the mild nights of home.

I tried very hard not to think about the blood on the ground.

The Prime collected his sample, Adam stored it, and the bag was returned to the trunk. I hugged my arms to my chest and watched the vampire, who was staring into the dark woods. His face was shadowed, but I could see coiled tension in his shoulders.

“What is it?” asked Adam.

“Something…” He shook his head. “Nothing. My imagination. Come here, Fiona.”

“Yes, master,” I muttered and pushed off the car.

On my second step, a queer tingling took ahold of my limbs. “What the—”

“Alchemy!” yelled Adam. “Connor!”

The space where the Prime had been standing emptied a millisecond before an explosion tore upward. Fire, earth, and metal debris shot into the air, peppering the nearest trees and tearing chunks of bark from their trunks.

I was on my knees, coughing in a cloud of dirt, without memory of falling. My ears were ringing and I tasted blood in my mouth.

That odd, tingling sensation returned with a vengeance. Like nails on a chalkboard times ten.

“Adam,” I gasped. “It’s happening ag—”

Arms grabbed me. My head spun and my vision blurred. A heady boom sounded somewhere close by and a blistering wave of heat cascaded over my back. I whimpered, and the heat stopped. Blocked, I realized, by the man holding me.

“I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

“The car,” gasped Adam.

“Fuck the car,” snapped the Prime. “I can’t hear any heartbeats besides yours and Fiona’s. Are they here, or did they set the trap and leave?”

A low groan of pain and aggravation came from Adam. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “Something hit me in the head. Run, Connor. Take Fiona.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

He set me on my feet, grabbing my shoulder when I wavered. Something wet trickled down my temple and I touched it, my fingers coming away dark with blood.

“Protect her. If they’re here, I’ll find them.”

“No, Connor—”

He was gone.

“Dammit,” Adam hissed, his head falling back against a tree trunk.

Some twenty feet away, the glow of the burning car was visible through trees. A bead of sweat ran down my back. My arms itched horribly. And that damned tingling was back, rising to a high-pitched whine in my ears.

“Adam—”

His eyes went white. “I sense it.” He grabbed my arm, forcing me behind him. “Stay down. If I’m taken out, you have to run. Fast, Fiona.”

“Take off the bracelets,” I panted. “Let me help.”

Light flashed through the trees and a cry of pain echoed in the night.

Adam made a strangled noise and ran toward the sound. White radiance glowed around him, building in intensity until I had to squint to see the shape of him inside it. Belatedly, I realized the cry had come from the Prime.

The itching in my arms reached new heights, morphing into a steady burn. I tore off my jacket to stare at the silver ribbons dancing on my skin. I didn’t feel the electricity—not yet—but holy shit it hurt.

The bracelets began to brighten, the metal heating. The scent of my burning flesh hit me an instant before the pain. I dropped to my knees with a muffled scream.

Pressure built in my spine until my back bowed. The power inside me writhed and bucked against its constraints.

My father’s voice whispered in my mind.

Praesent ut libero…

Live to be free.

The bracelets withered and turned to ash.

CRACK.

I went blind at the first expulsion of energy, barely managing to keep my palms angled toward the ground. The base of the nearest tree split in half, sparks and gouts of smoke billowing from its remains. Gasping, I clenched my hands and ground my teeth.

Stay with me, I told the lightning. Not yet.

I didn’t think. I scrambled to my feet and ran, following the shimmering trail of the Omega’s magic. When I reached the tree line, I crouched behind a trunk and peered out at the road.

I saw the Prime first, lying on his side in a pool of blood, fifteen feet from the smoking car. He was angled away from me. By his stillness, he was either unconscious or dead.

Adam was a pillar of white radiance between the Prime and a line of three men in black camo. Disjointed blue sparkles filled the air around the Liberati, darting like erratic stars. The central figure held an unnaturally smooth sphere, about the size of a basketball. In the glowing, milky depths was a wriggling