Heart of Ash Page 6

  “I’m not that stupid,” I said as I took a deep sip of water.

  “I can prove it.”

  “How?”

  He glanced up at the hostess, who appeared to be hovering at this point. “Close your eyes.”

  I took in a deep breath, wondering if I should trust him. But we were in a crowded square in the middle of the day—and I couldn’t die—how could he possibly hurt me any more than he already had.

  “Fine.” I shrugged, closing my eyes.

  “You’ll know when to open them,” he replied.

  I heard him get up from his chair, the wrought iron scraping against cobblestones. He stepped away from the table, his scent trailing after him.

  A murmur. A soft giggle. And then a twist of the knife, as if someone were hollowing out my chest. I felt a darkness spread over me, but it wasn’t the same darkness I experienced over the past year. This was far more insidious, as if something were hacking away at my insides.

  I opened my eyes to see Dane kissing the hostess, his hands gripping her waist.

  “Dane,” I called out for him in an involuntary gasp.

  He released the girl; she staggered back, looking thoroughly stunned.

  As soon as he walked back to me, the venom dissipated from my bloodstream, but the memory remained, like a stain on my heart.

  “What just happened?” I asked, still trying to catch my breath.

  “We’re blood bound,” he said, taking a seat. “If I’d been with another woman, you would’ve felt it,” he said, glancing up at me seductively through his dark lashes.

  “This isn’t a game,” I said as I shook my head. “I gave you immortality. Created you as my equal. But my equal would never lie to me, betray me . . . hurt me.”

  His smile dimmed, but the earnestness remained. “Then let me prove to be your equal.”

  I could feel regret, rising inside of him, or maybe it was rising in me. In Quivira, my feelings for Dane were as simple as breathing. We were entwined in a lovers’ knot I thought could never be undone. But now, it felt as if we were ensnared. A devil’s knot of pain and remorse, guilt and shame. I didn’t know how to move forward from this. To heal.

  He reached for my hands, but I leaned back, as far away from his scent, his touch, as I could get. I had to keep sharp. “Before this conversation goes any further, I’m going to need to see that proof you told Timmons you had.”

  “Of course.” He straightened in his chair, tentatively pulling a photo from his inside pocket, sliding it over to me. It was a grainy close-up shot of two people. One was Spencer; just seeing his face made my blood boil. The other one was a boy with sunglasses and a cap pulled down tight, but I’d know that nose anywhere, because it was the same as mine. It was Rhys.

  “So it’s true,” I whispered. “Rhys must really hate me, what I’ve become, in order to do this.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ashlyn.”

  “When was this taken?” I turned the photo over and slid it back to him. I couldn’t bear to look at the two of them together.

  “Two days ago at the docks in Valencia. I have my best men on this, but the council is zeroing in. I’ve done my best to divert the information, but it will only be a matter of time before they find him.”

  A ripple of panic rushed through me. “But you said we could stop this.”

  “We can . . . we can save him if we work together.”

  I looked out over the crowd, trying to let everything sink in, but I didn’t have time for that. Rhys didn’t have time. “I’m not saying I’m agreeing, but if I did, how would we even do this?”

  “I’ve persuaded the council to come to my estate. They arrive this evening. I told them Katia is the only person who can suss out this immortal killer.”

  “How? How would Katia even be able to do that?”

  “Using her black magic. She’s the only immortal who straddled both worlds—of alchemy and the spiritual. They fear her connection to the Dark Spirit.”

  I couldn’t help wondering if that’s what was happening to me—the darkness I’ve felt over the past year.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  I knew he could sense my fear, but I wasn’t ready to name it.

  “Nothing. It’s just . . . what if we can’t find him?”

  “We will.”

  “Or what if we do? There’s no way I’m handing over my brother.”

  “I’ve seen to that,” he said as he leaned in. “I have a body,” he whispered.

  “A body?”

  “We were able to procure a specimen matching your brother’s description. When the time comes—”

  “Wait! Is that even legal?”

  “I can assure you he died of natural causes and the family was well paid—”

  “Stop.” I shuddered. “I don’t want to know anything else about that.”

  “Good call.”

  “But how am I going to convince the council that I’m Katia? Have they met her? I don’t have any powers. What if they want a demonstration?”

  “Parlor tricks, nothing more,” he said as he picked up the spoon and made it disappear. I remembered him doing that with the rose quartz in Quivira. “Coronado made it his mission to collect dirt on every single one of the council members.”

  “Of course he did.”

  “I feed you the information, and you can dazzle them with your dark intuition,” he said as he made the spoon reappear, placing it on my nose.

  The spoon slipped to the table with a loud clang.

  “And they’re just going to buy that Katia would be anywhere near Coronado without impaling him with a stalk of corn or whatever vegetable is lying around?”

  “They had a complicated relationship, but it makes sense that they would reconcile in a time of crisis. Besides”—he leaned forward, oozing charm—“everyone knows, to resist a blood binding is pure torture. A sure way to madness.”

  “You know I won’t sleep with you, right?”

  “Don’t be hasty.” He smiled, the dimple on his right cheek peeking out as if to taunt me. “My bed comes from Switzerland, the finest goose down in all the world. It’s really the most comfortable place to sleep, but you’re welcome to your own quarters. I can be patient. We have all the time in the world.”

  “But my brother doesn’t.”

  He looked down at the table, at the expanse between us, and I could feel his remorse . . . his humility.

  “If you swear to find him, bring him back to me, alive, I’ll do it.”

  He reached out to touch my face, I flinched at first—not because I didn’t want him to touch me—I flinched because I wanted it more than anything in the entire world.

  And he knew it.

  11

  TO MY SURPRISE, Dane didn’t insist on accompanying me, but he did insist that I use his extra car and driver, which he just so happened to have on hand. More than a little presumptuous, but I didn’t argue. I was tired of fighting him. Fighting myself.

  After we parted ways, I walked across the square, halfway in a dream. I couldn’t believe my brother was working with Spencer, but I saw the proof with my own eyes. Was he so angry with me that he wanted to kill every immortal? I felt like those people you always read about in the papers: family members of serial killers who had no clue. But Rhys wasn’t just my brother. He was my twin. Did I somehow turn him into this?

  As I trudged up the stairs to the dingy room, Beth was waiting on the landing, our backpacks at the ready.

  “How did you—”

  “Oh, I knew two days ago that we’d be going to his castle.”

  “Castle?”

  “I’m excited to see it, you know, not just up in here,” she said as she thumped her finger against her forehead.

  After telling Dane’s driver that we had a quick errand, we ditched our bags in the tr
unk of the car and went over a few cobblestone blocks to meet Timmons at a quaint hole-in-the-wall café, tucked away off a small square.

  Timmons was hunched over his phone, his knee bouncing up and down like a jackhammer. That’s when I noticed the empty espresso cups littering the table. He could never handle his caffeine. My mom used to tease him about it mercilessly.

  As soon as we approached, he jumped up, practically knocking over the table.

  “Un altre?” the waiter asked.

  “Nope. I’m cutting you off,” I said as I made him sit back down.

  “Thank God, you’re okay. I was worried sick,” Timmons said as he perched on the edge of his seat. “I’ve been doing some digging into the council, and it’s worse than I thought. There are heads of state—royalty—captains of industry—these people are not to be tangled with. And as far as the council is concerned, there is no Dane. It’s only Coronado in Dane’s body . . . and they hate him.”

  “So I’ve gathered.”

  “You know how there was talk of retiring him—well, apparently, there’ve been several members over the years who have fallen out of favor with the council and they’ve just disappeared. Poof. Never to be heard from again. Oh, and it gets better.” He took in a shallow breath. “Rumor has already spread throughout the community that Katia is coming back; he went ahead and told them you were coming before you even agreed. You don’t find that troubling?”

  “Dane knows I would do anything to find my brother.”

  “And then what?”

  “Well, Dane has a body on hand—”

  “Of course he does. Body or not, do you really think they’re just going to let you go? The most powerful witch in the world? They have every resource at their disposal. They’ll find you.”

  “But that’s where you come in.” I patted his hand. “No one can hide money and assets better than you. We’re going to need an exit plan.”

  “You’re basically doing this to keep me busy, aren’t you?”

  “Possibly. But you’re right. We need to prepare for every scenario.”

  “I’m assuming Dane told you that, in exchange for your services, the council has agreed to release Dane to you. Is that how he got you to agree to this? Emotional manipulation?”

  “No,” I whispered, replaying our conversation in my head. “He didn’t mention anything like that. Are you sure?”

  “Dead sure. My source said they’ve been trying to get rid of Coronado for decades, but his connection to you is the only thing that’s kept him around. Forgive my Spanish,” he said as he looked at his notes. “Besat per la foscor. ‘Kissed by darkness.’”

  A shiver of recognition pulsed through my blood. Why wouldn’t he have told me that?

  “Did he also neglect to mention that the three dead council members voted to retire Coronado early, with or without Katia’s consent?”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “There are a lot of moving parts here. How do you know you can trust him? After everything he’s done to you and your family? Dane or Coronado . . . or whatever he is.”

  “Danado,” Beth and I answered in unison.

  He gave us a weirded-out look, but continued. “Funny how he seemed to do perfectly fine without you for the past year. It’s only now, when his life is in real danger, that he reached out. Maybe Rhys has his reasons . . . maybe Danado deserves to die.”

  “Timmons,” Beth shushed him.

  “It’s okay, Beth,” I said as I pushed the sugar bowl over to her to calm her down. “It’s a valid question. Are there glimpses of Coronado in there? The cockiness . . . for sure. Do I know exactly what I’m dealing with? No. But Dane and Coronado both know how much Rhys means to me. They owe me this. If pretending to be Katia can throw the council off the trail long enough for Dane and me to find Rhys first, it’s worth it.”

  Timmons gave me a look.

  “I get your concern, I really do. But I can handle him this time. I’ve changed. Besides, I’ll have Beth.”

  We looked over at Beth, who was staring off into space as she poured sugar packets onto her outstretched tongue.

  “Yes. That’s a real comfort,” Timmons said. He looked around before tucking a small phone under his napkin and sliding it over to me. “It’s a burner. Untraceable. Keep it hidden. You need to check in with me every day. If something happens and I don’t hear from you . . . Well, I know I can’t kill them, but I can cause a hell of a scene.”

  “Got it,” I said as I slipped the phone into my pocket.

  “As your lawyer, I’m telling you to run; as your friend, I’m telling you to watch your back.”

  12

  AS BETH AND I said our good-byes and walked back toward the waiting car, I noticed an old apothecary shop at the end of a narrow alleyway. It reminded me of something out of Romeo and Juliet. A man stepped out from behind the counter and came to the doorway, giving me a slight bow.

  He was probably in his twenties, handsome, immaculately dressed. But there was something very Old World about him. I took in a deep breath and had a flash, nothing more than a split second—like a blinding burst of sunlight peeking through passing skyscrapers—where I saw him standing in that same spot, dressed in tails and a top hat, waiting for someone. Waiting for me.

  “Do you know him?” Beth asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  As I took a hesitant step toward him, he slipped inside as if he wanted me to follow, which I did.

  “Ash, I’m not really sure if we have time for—”

  I knew she was right, but the moment I entered the shop, I felt something open inside of me. Like taking that first deep hit of air after you’ve been released from under a riptide.

  The shop was full of the regular things you might see in a forgotten pharmacy—dusty aspirin, bandages, sun lotion—but beyond that there were pestles, herbs, oils, and a sheen of fine gold dust clinging to the grooves of the worktables. He was an alchemist. And, I’d gather, an old one at that. Definitely immortal. I could smell the centuries on him.

  Following his scent of cypress, brisk granite, and black sage, I gravitated toward the back of the room. Behind a heavy tapestried curtain was a small inner chamber, adorned with art and antiques, layers of Persian rugs, and an old record player, Mozart lilting through the cozy space.

  “May I read for you?” he asked as he took a seat behind a claw-foot mahogany table, fanning a deck of cards before me. The backs of the cards were the color of wet shale with a hand-painted ouroboros symbol, the snake eating its own tail, each scale gilded with painstaking care.

  “Sure, I’ll bite,” I said as I stepped up to the table.

  He pursed his lips as if he were stifling a smile.

  “Choose three.”

  I reached to grab the first one in front of me.

  “No, not like that.” He took my hand, fanning out my fingers. “Skim your fingertips over every card, and let your soul choose for you.”

  I did as he said. I felt silly at first, but soon I relaxed, letting my senses lead me to the first card. I swore I could feel the energy thrumming through my palm. “You’re immortal,” I said, dragging the first card forward.

  A mischievous smile crept into the corner of his mouth. “What gave me away? My boyish good looks or the smell of my blood?”

  I looked up at him sharply.

  “All immortals have a heightened sense of smell, but yours is especially keen.”

  Interesting. So he could smell it on me, as well. Time to test the waters.

  “I’m Katia, but you probably already know that,” I said as I slid another card from the spread.

  “Rennert, the alchemist, at your service.”

  “Are you part of the council?” I asked, searching for another card.

  “I prefer to remain on the fringe. But certain members of the council se
ek me out when they are in need of my skills.”

  “And what are those?” I asked, sliding the final card forward from the deck.

  “All sorts of follies and unpleasantries. But I wouldn’t be in business very long if I spilled my secrets so easily.”

  “Are you a seer?” I asked.

  “Heavens, no.” Rennert crinkled up his nose as if he were disgusted by the notion. “No offense,” he said to Beth.

  Beth tugged on the edge of my shirt even harder. “Ash, I really think we should—”

  “Your past,” he said, placing his hand on the first card, but not turning it over. “There’s a tree, split down the middle, roots reaching through your bloodline. There’s pleasure and pain, passion and death—so much death—but there’s also love. Deep sacrifices have been made for this to come to pass.”

  Beth laced her cold fingers through mine. She was scared.

  “Your present,” he said, caressing his thumb over the second card. “Danger abounds.” He looked at me with a raised brow. “There’s a battle between your heart and your mind. Judgment and forgiveness. You’re standing on the precipice, a razor’s edge. It’s all so delicious,” he said, a grin easing across his lips. “Do you let yourself fall once again or do you hold on to the guilt and bitterness that have become your constant companions? To dance with the darkness. To dance with the light. Which will you choose?”

  I stared down at the third card, sensing the weight of it and everything it implied.

  “Your future.” As soon as he placed his hand over the last card, I watched the tendons in his hand flare, the tension traveling up his arm, like visible poison. “Twins. All coiled up. Vessels for each other.”

  “Rhys,” I whispered.

  “The light you carry inside you was a gift, but it’s not meant for you. It’s keeping the darkness at bay, but if you hold on to it, it will be your ruin. In order to save yourself, to save them all, you’ll have to give it away and step fully into the darkness. The darkness may be your curse, your immurement, where your heart will turn to ash . . . but it’s your only chance at salvation. Remember, no one is irredeemable, Ashlyn.”