armor of magic 02 - rising light (2 page)

“This is
way
over my budget.” I gawked and ogled each room, oohing and ahhing like a gameshow contestant who had just won everything amazing.

As I stood in the doorway of my new master bedroom, admiring the sea of ivory, sunlight came sparkling through the huge bay window. October in San Francisco was proving to be way better than July. Everything had a magical radiance to it, from the sheer curtains to the gleaming wood floors. Asher had created a safe haven for me.

He came up from behind and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. Again with the increase in heart rate. My breath was slowly being pulled from me as our energy joined into a rising swell of something that was sure to knock us down.

“You don’t need to worry about the money,” he said, gently caressing my arms, making it difficult to concentrate.

“I’m not exactly worried. It’s more like I don’t have it.” I turned around and looked up at Asher; my mouth was dangerously close to his.

“Doesn’t matter. I worked it out.”

Shaking my head, I pulled away. “I don’t know, Asher. Something about you remodeling
and
redecorating my home for a pittance doesn’t feel right.”

He was a persistent rogue angel, taking my hand and pulling me into the master bedroom. His lips warmed my neck as he stroked my back and took out my ponytail. My long brown hair spilled over my shoulders. Suddenly, the money and the budget—and pretty much every single thing that had ever crossed my mind—faded away. Once we realized what was happening, the race to remove our clothes had begun. We fell onto the soft comforter, sinking into the folds of fabric. Our kisses were like two ravished souls searching for sustenance in one another.

“Are you leaving on the Armor?” he asked.

“I kind of have to. Is that okay?”

“It’s fine with me, but did Ezra mention what could happen?”

I didn’t want to think about my Guide at the moment. I wanted to continue with our fervid trajectory.
I was about to lose my virginity.
Who cared what happened later? All those months up in Glimmer City, yearning with anticipation for this very moment and thinking about
being
with Asher is what kept me going during Ezra’s intense Navy SEAL-type training routines that made me weak and delirious, and not in a good way. Ugh. There I was thinking about Ezra again.

I didn’t want to consider the consequences of having Armor sex, so I refocused my attention on Asher’s full lips, kissing him until all words had been snuffed out. I pulled back the covers and brought Asher under them with me. I didn’t want the neighbors to get a peep show on my first day back.

As our hands explored each other, the breathing and sighing grew louder, building up to
the
moment.

It was time.

And then a blast of violet light came glimmering into the room.

“Are you serious? You have
the
worst timing, Ezra!” I yelled, pulling the covers up around my chin, then hating myself for opening my big mouth. Now I had invited my Guide into a conversation and there was no turning back.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” His stern voice echoed in the forefront of my mind, shoving every single desire for Asher to the back.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I said, glaring.

“I’m pretty sure I made it abundantly clear that you and Asher cannot be together. The Monarchy won’t allow it.”

Ezra sat in one of the cream-colored armchairs, crossing his legs and staring right at me with those violet eyes. In Glimmer City, Ezra and I had learned to work with each other. He had learned to accept my defiant stubborn attitude, and I had learned to accept that he would be on my ass the rest of my life.

“Look, I thought we were all on the same team here. But the Monarchy keeps asking for things and giving nothing in return. They’re letting my parents rot away in some unknown dimension. They won’t tell me where my best friend is. And now they’re telling me who I can and can’t date. What is this?”

“It’s not what they
want
. It’s what they
demand
. And sorry to break it to you, but I’m here to collect Asher. He’s under review.”

With that, Asher sat up. “No way. I’m not going with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. And if you don’t come with me now, your powers will be completely revoked. You’ll be on your own. You won’t survive a single night without your powers. You know this. And the cloaking mechanism you have protecting Fiona’s house—great job with the remodel, by the way—will be inert. You’ll be leaving her completely exposed to any and all evil supernatural beings in San Francisco.”

That didn’t sound good. Especially since the house was finally in a livable state. Why couldn’t the Monarchy just leave us alone and overlook this small detail? Asher wasn’t a bad guy. Didn’t his saving me at the Palace Hotel count for something? I nestled up against his chest, not wanting to let him go. Having a destiny or a higher calling—or whatever being a Protector of Light meant—seriously had some major flaws.

“I can protect you,” I whispered.

“No you can’t.” Asher got out of bed and put on his shirt and jeans.

“You’re not going with him, are you?”

“Like your Guide said, I don’t have a choice. If I don’t go, your life will be in more danger than it already is.” He leaned down and cupped my face, kissing me. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure things out with the old bosses. They’re big on redemption and all that …”

Tearful goodbyes were the worst, so I pulled away and sunk under the covers. I didn’t want to see Asher glimmer away from me.

“I’ll be back soon,” Ezra said. “We might have a lead on the other Scroll.”

I lifted my hand out from under the covers and flipped him off.

Ezra laughed in his patronizing manner reserved only for me. “That attitude won’t win you any favors with the Monarchy,” he said.

“Just bring him home soon, Ezra. Okay?”

And just like that my gorgeous rogue-angel ex-bounty hunter boyfriend was gone. Not the homecoming I was expecting—at all.

four

With Asher gone and Charlotte and my parents still missing, it was time to throw myself a little pity party. Perhaps melodramatic and petulant, but it just seemed right. Being alone in the house was causing waves of paranoia that I would
always
be alone. Like forever. But nothing a little Netflix and napping couldn’t fix. I made sure to replenish my food supply, and by food I mean Doritos, Ben and Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream and red wine. So those were my days for the next few weeks, and at night I went on demon safari. A good way to vent pent-up shit, by the way.

Though I was kicking ass all over town and had binge watched a British melodrama about aristocrats and their servants in a manor, I was still restless. Something was missing. I mean, besides everyone I’ve ever cared about.

So I dialed up Somer Barrett, my former editor-in-chief at
Lifting the Fog
, to see if she had any writing assignments … and I wasn’t above a fluff piece. I just needed something, anything really, to occupy my mind.

“Hi, Somer, it’s Fiona Farrow. I used to work for you,” I said into her voicemail. “I’m back from my trip and wondering if you have any freelance gigs you’d like to toss my way. Text or call. Thanks.”

Before I had gone to supernatural cross-training in Glimmer City with Ezra and Julian, I had made a secret agreement with Somer that I’d call her upon returning. She loved my piece that exposed Emmett Stone’s human trafficking operation. As a matter of fact, most people in San Francisco and throughout the country lauded the story: it woke up many people who had been clueless about the level and nature of corruption going on in the city, and the world, for that matter. Rather than the “politicians are corrupt” generality we hear all the time, my story put a specific name to the exact crime and nailed his ass. My story told the world: here is one messed up dude, and you bet guys like him are everywhere. If little ol’ Fiona Farrow could shine the light on some of these jerks, perhaps some others might be inspired to do so as well. Help with the fight—at least on the human level. Especially since the Shadow Order never ceased its quest for supernatural domination and complete control of the minds, bodies and souls of all humans. Darkness was their game. But mine was protecting the Light.

Speaking of the Shadow Order, during my stint in Glimmer City I had an image of Cagliostro pinned up on the wall of my mind and I trained like a prize fighter looking at it. Yes, Julian’s “think-about-stuff-you-dig” technique helped with my general outlook, but
motivation
to go up against the most powerful demon mage within the Shadow Order was fueled by righteous hatred. Cagliostro was a real son-of-a-bitch, and because of him my parents were missing and my best friend was in hiding. Apparently, Cagliostro had also been keeping a low profile after the big attack at the Palace Hotel over the summer. Recuperating from Lilith’s dagger in the back, no doubt. Planning something diabolical, no doubt about that, either.

My buzzing phone shook me back into the present moment. “Hi, Somer,” I said in my most cheerful voice.

“Fiona! So great to hear from you. How was your time away? Feeling rested and ready to expose some criminals?”

If she only knew the truth of that statement. I was ready to take down every bad guy in both worlds.

“I sure am,” I told her.

“At the moment, I have something a bit obscure, but it could end up being a juicy story to sink your teeth into.”

“I’m all ears,” I said.

“I’ve heard about a few murders in some remote towns that are questionable. Like blood being drained from bodies. I can email you the links to the stories. You can start there and see if they lead to anything bigger. Sound good?”

I paused. Not because I didn’t want to follow a lead to a potentially juicy story, but because the murders didn’t seem questionable; they sounded supernatural. Great. I really just wanted to write a straightforward story, like something about a prostitution ring. Or fraudulent bankers. Why the added burden of an evil supernatural element? I knew why: the evil supernatural element would most likely be the common denominator for all scandals. Duh. I had to keep remembering that—the supernatural and the natural were inextricably entwined. After all, humans weren’t the originators of Darkness—that was the Shadow Order’s stock in trade. But humans made the choice to go down the path. My job as a Protector of Light was to snuff out the Darkness, and at least make the choice a bit less enticing.

Yet here I was, trying to balance my
natural
side with the
supernatural
one; investigative journalist
and
Protector of Light. Of course I couldn’t hand Somer Barrett a story detailing the
exact nature of things
—she would either have me committed or transferred to the fiction department. “
Yeah, Somer. Figured it all out. It’s just a ring of demons draining people’s blood to sell to vampires.”

Nope. Even my human trafficking piece had disclosed only the
human
side of the operation with allusions to “evil-minded people” like Emmett Stone. None of the faeries, demons, and magical components showed up in the piece. In the footage that Laila, my faerie friend, shot for me, anything supernatural either showed up as human, a lens-flare, or just didn’t show up at all. That’s how things were. The humans were, for the most part, being kept in the dark about the other dimensions. I didn’t know how I felt about that. Should they know? Or would they completely lose their shit if they could see all the magical phenomena that was really going on?

“I’ll pay you triple what I was paying you before,” Somer said, mistaking my silence as a negotiating tactic.

“I’m in. Send me the links, and I’ll get to work. I’ll keep you posted with my findings.”

She practically squealed. I could just picture her wearing her earpiece and clapping her perfectly manicured hands as she paraded through the office like a cyclone. Somer Barrett loved a good scoop, and my last story had skyrocketed her to the top tier in news blogs, so I had pretty much made her day. And vice versa.

***

Somer sent me the links to the stories; each of the three incidents happened in a different small town in Arizona. I looked for any patterns or similarities, but the only obvious thing was the way they were murdered. The bodies had been hung up on hooks then drained of blood. That vampire bitch came to mind. I filed that in the “possibly connected” folder in my brain. I started sleuthing around the internet searching for murders via blood drainage. One thing led to another, and by the end of the day I had a pattern: all the bodies that had been drained of blood recently were in small southwest towns. A total of thirty-three so far. Obviously a pattern. Obviously evil. Just not sure which faction. Vampires? Sure, you’d get random thug-like vampire killings here in the west, but generally on this side of the Mississippi the bloodsuckers stayed low-key and acquired their blood via the “cleaner” means. Usually on the black market run by Cagliostro and company. Vampires didn’t orchestrate ritual killings in known Shadow Order turf. At least according to the many briefings Ezra gave us up in Glimmer City about how things are run down here.

The front doorbell chimed and at first I didn’t recognize the sound because I had never heard it. Nobody had “stopped by” since I had returned from Glimmer City. Not a single nosey neighbor. Probably had something to do with Asher’s cloaking mechanism.

I looked through the peep-hole to find surfer-bro Julian on my front porch looking roughed up. Cuts streaked along his cheeks, and his clothes were shredded. I opened the door and let in the only other Protector of Light I knew. Besides my parents, of course.

“Dude!” I said, teasing him.

“Hey,” he mumbled in a very un-Julian manner.

“Whoa, what’s wrong, kid? You run out of weed?”

He looked to the ground, ignoring my barb. I patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m just messing with you. What’s going on? I’ve never seen you so, um, sullen or forlorn. Did you become emo or something? No more surf and sun?”