Ashes Reborn

  Makani raised an eyebrow as she glanced at me. “You already have this rule?”

  “It’s a very sensible one, given the amorous tendencies of the fae in question,” I said. “It’d be hard to get any work done without it.”

  “Indeed. While those of fire do rank rather high on the overly sexed scale, I rather suspect this one stood in line twice.”

  “Ladies, I am standing right next to you both.”

  “Indeed,” Makani repeated, her amusement stronger. She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out a set of keys, and offered them to me. “It’s the black SUV at the back of the lot. It’s got full insurance, but please try not to make too much of a mess of it.”

  My fingers brushed hers as I took the keys, and again the whispers swirled. Her eyes went wide.

  “What?” I immediately said.

  “You need to get back to your partner. Now.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Fear stepped into my heart. I didn’t say anything; I didn’t even question her. I simply wrapped my fingers around the keys and ran for the back of the lot.

  “Open the rear cargo,” Jackson said.

  I pressed the appropriate button on the remote, then pulled off the backpack containing the laptops and threw it onto the backseat. Jackson dumped the Vespa into the cargo area, then climbed into the passenger seat. I was reversing out of the bay even before he’d closed the door. Makani was still standing where we’d left her, her arms crossed and her expression troubled. She raised a hand as we sped past; I didn’t acknowledge it. I didn’t dare take my hands off the wheel, given the speed at which we were already moving.

  “It’ll be okay—”

  “Don’t,” I said, my voice sharp, and then took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be snapping at you.”

  He reached across the center console and squeezed my leg. “It’s okay, Em. We’re connected, remember? And wouldn’t you feel it if he was dead?”

  “Normally, yes. But Rory’s still in a weak state, and that could hinder our connection and my ability to call to his ashes.”

  “So there’s a distance restriction when it comes to that sort of thing?”

  “Like any signal that has no amplification, it grows weaker the farther you move away from the primary source.”

  “So you’d never risk going interstate or overseas without him?”

  “No. I couldn’t anyway—we need to reaffirm our connection on a regular basis.”

  He grunted. “Fate really has got it in for your lot, hasn’t it?”

  “Our life isn’t bad, Jackson. It can just get complicated.”

  “To say the least.” He shook his head. “I think I’d rather juggle a hundred women than do what you and Rory do century after century.”

  I glanced at him. “Even you can’t juggle a hundred women.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Want to bet on it?”

  I laughed. “No, I do not.”

  I swung the SUV onto the freeway ramp and hit the accelerator, reaching for every ounce of speed the Range Rover had. As the big engine kicked into gear, he said, “If Makani does come to work with us, she won’t want to be just a secretary. She’ll want to be a full partner.”

  He was, I knew, talking to keep my mind off what might be happening with Rory. “I have no problem with that, but I am surprised. She’s an air fae, and they’re even less inclined to remain around cities than your lot.”

  “I suspect she’s been sent here by her father.”

  I raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. “I didn’t think any of the fae remained in family groups.”

  “We don’t, but both parents always remain a part of any child’s life, no matter how young or old that child is.”

  Meaning they were a whole lot better than we phoenixes at keeping in contact once their children had flown the nest. “I was under the impression you hadn’t talked to your dad for years.”

  “I haven’t, but I’m also much older than Makani. Besides, given how long we live, years are more like months.”

  “Just how much older are you?”

  He grinned. “When you tell me your true age, I’ll tell you mine.”

  “Fair enough.” I concentrated on overtaking a long truck for a minute, and then added, “What makes you think her dad sent her here?”

  Because I certainly hadn’t gained that impression by anything she’d said or done in our brief meeting.

  “It was something she said when I first contacted her—that she’d been expecting my call.”

  I frowned. “She’s air fae. That goes with the territory, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, but Makani stepped away from reading the wind after the death of a lover some years back.”

  “Meaning she read the wind wrong?”

  “Quite the opposite—he wouldn’t listen to her.”

  Meaning he was an idiot. “Did he know she was fae?”

  A smile touched his lips. “He was fae, and he was also the one who read the wind wrong, not her. He died; she discovered two weeks later that she was carrying his child.”

  I swung onto the Hume Freeway ramp, keeping the big vehicle in line as we took the sweeping turn far faster than the sign recommended.

  “That would have been hard.”

  “Yeah.” Jackson was silent for a moment, and then added, “Makani stepped away from reading the wind the minute she discovered that.”

  I frowned. “I would have thought she’d do the opposite to keep her child safe.”

  “Reading is not without its risks. There have been instances of fiosaiche losing all sense of self and becoming little more than air.”

  Fiosaiche, I knew, was basically the fae term for shaman. If she’d been one, then she was a very gifted reader indeed. “So if she’s once again doing so, it’s because she’s been asked?” When he nodded, I added, “But why would her dad ask her rather than simply do it himself?”

  “Because the older air fae get, the more stretched they become, until they are so thin, they appear little more than gossamer. He wouldn’t have the strength to counter whatever events this so-called flux is going to throw at us.”

  “I’m seriously doubting he intends Makani to actually fight.”

  “No, but she’s a fae in the prime of her life, and she’ll be able to withstand the exchange of forests for the bleakness of the city far longer than he.”

  “And her child?”

  “Is now in his thirties, and in training to become fiosaiche when his grandfather eventually dies.”

  “So it’s a position that’s handed down?”

  Jackson nodded. “But generally to the male of the line, not the female.”

  “So she was training because there were no sons?”

  “Yes. But to become fiosaiche is to forgo children.”

  “He obviously didn’t.” Nor did Makani, for that matter.

  “Makani was conceived before he stepped into the position. I have no doubt Hava will have done the same now that he is undergoing the training. As for Makani—she also stepped away from training simply because she wanted to spend more time with her son than the position would have allowed.”

  “Huh.” I concentrated on the road for a while, and eventually asked, “Do you have any problems with working with her?”

  He shook his head. “She’ll be an asset. Not to mention easy on the eyes.”

  “Remember the no-touching rule.”

  “Oh, trust me, I’m remembering. The swimmers are aching at the mere thought of it.”

  I grinned. “They will get relief. Eventually.”

  “I’ll probably explode before then.” His expression was gloomy, but amusement teased his lips. “At this rate, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands, and that’s a very depressing thought.”

  I chuckled softly
. “I’m sure you’re more than capable of such an action, even if it is a very foreign one for you.”

  He sniffed, a sound that somehow managed to be disdainful. “The point is I shouldn’t have to.”

  My amusement grew, but I resisted the urge to reach across and pat his leg in sympathy; not only would that have been dangerous, given the speed we were going, but also because I knew he really was sexually frustrated. I could feel the heat of it running through the back of my thoughts, a river of desire that could so easily sweep me away if I wasn’t very careful.

  And, right now, with everything going on, we really couldn’t afford that happening.

  If he heard that particular thought, he didn’t reply to it. Maybe the reality of it simply depressed him too much. I drove on into the night. Luckily there didn’t seem to be any cops about, but even if there had been, I wouldn’t have stopped. The need to get back to Rory, to see what was happening, was beating fast and strong within me, and while I was now close enough to know that he wasn’t dead, that didn’t mean he wasn’t injured or close to that state.

  I needed to know. Needed to get there and find out.

  As I swung onto the dirt road that led down to the river and our cabin, flashes of red and blue began to cut through the trees—not from flames, but from emergency vehicle lights. My heart began to race a whole lot faster, even though I still had no sense that Rory was dead.

  A police car blocked the road near the first cabin, forcing me to stop. I did so and rolled down the window.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” the officer said, “but there’s been a fire, and we’re not—”

  “We’re PIT associates.” Jackson leaned past me to give the officer his badge. “And we’ve been called in to investigate.”

  The officer frowned as his gaze swept the badge. “I can’t see why PIT would even be here, let alone send associates.”

  “Emberly here was staying in one of the cabins,” Jackson said. “What building went up? And have there been any injuries or fatalities?”

  “It was the last cabin, and yes, there’ve been injuries. We’re still trying to determine the latter.”

  I briefly closed my eyes and fought the urge to run into the area and find Rory. If he were dead, I’d know. I had to cling to that, if nothing else.

  “We need to get in there, Officer. Now,” Jackson added when the officer hesitated.

  “Wait here while I check with the inspector.” He stepped back and began talking into his two-way. I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, my gaze on the lights up ahead. Smoke swirled through the night, but I couldn’t see any flames, and there was little in the way of heat riding the crisp air.

  “Okay,” the officer said, handing Jackson’s ID back. “You’re cleared. But you’ll have to leave the SUV here—just pull it off the road a bit more.”

  I did so, then grabbed my coat and climbed out. The farther I got down the road, the stronger the scent of smoke became. One of our neighbors nodded at me as we strode by, and the cabin nearest ours bore scorch marks. That fact alone suggested our cabin hadn’t just caught fire; it had exploded.

  I rounded the corner and was met by a scene of utter destruction. There was little left of the cabin but a pile of smoldering wood. Even the old stone chimney hadn’t withstood the explosion—there were only a few bricks left at the base to indicate its existence. We were stopped again as we drew near the cabin, but once we’d both shown our IDs, we were motioned over to a somewhat disheveled-looking gentleman whose short gray hair stuck out in all directions and who seemed to be wearing a striped pajama top under his sweater.

  “Inspector James Cobden,” he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. “What’s PIT’s interest in this case?”

  I introduced us both, then added, “I was staying here with a friend—”

  “If his name is Rory Jones, he’s currently being checked by the ambulance crew,” the inspector said. “Can you think of any reason why someone might have wanted to harm either of you?”

  Relief swept me, and I didn’t bother hiding it. “PIT isn’t well liked, even among our fellow officers. Do you mind if I head over to talk to my companion?”

  “I’ll stay here and answer any questions you might have,” Jackson said, even as he gave me a light push toward the ambulance.

  I didn’t really need the encouragement and walked away before the inspector could answer.

  Rory was sitting on the back of the ambulance, his right arm being bandaged by a paramedic and his hair somewhat singed—both of which suggested he’d been unable to draw in the fire and stop it from affecting him for some reason. He was wearing a pair of old jeans and a shirt that hung like a tent on him, but his feet were bare and blackened with soot.

  The paramedic glanced up as I approached. I flashed my badge, then sat beside Rory. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Close call, though.”

  He put his free hand between us, and I placed mine on top. Though there was no telltale spark or heat, he instantly began drawing on my strength. He was weaker—far weaker—than when we’d left him, which basically confirmed that he’d been the reason the cabin had exploded. Not that I’d really had much doubt about that; the only other way the cabin could have gone up like that was if the gas bottles had exploded.

  “What happened?”

  “Break-in of some kind that went wrong.” He shrugged, a casual move that was anything but. Tension and anger rode him, but the paramedic’s presence was preventing him from saying anything. “It’s just lucky I happened to be in the bathroom—it probably saved me from the explosion.”

  “Who broke in? Any idea?”

  He glanced at me, his amber eyes aglitter, but he said only, “No. That’s a job for the coroner—if he can find anything left of them in the ashes, that is.”

  Meaning he’d made damn sure nothing was left.

  “And the clothes?”

  A smile ghosted his lips. “Donation from the guy two doors up. He told me it wasn’t right to be walking around buck naked when there were kiddies about.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “There are kids here? I don’t remember seeing any.”

  “That’s because said kiddies are actually teenagers who were very unimpressed by the term.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Right,” the paramedic said as he finished bandaging Rory’s arm. “The painkiller I gave you should hold for a couple of hours, but you might need something after that. You should go to the hospital, in my opinion.”

  A smile ghosted Rory’s lips. “I’m a firefighter. The boys would give me merry hell if I went to the hospital for a burn as minor as this.”

  “Partial second-degree burns are hardly minor.” The paramedic’s expression was disapproving. “Sounds like your work mates are a bunch of idiots.”

  “Their teasing is simply a way of relieving tension,” Rory said, his tone a little sharp. “You should know that.”

  The paramedic grunted and stepped back. “Given you won’t take my advice, you’re free to go.”

  Rory released me and rose, somewhat cautiously, to his feet. I stood with him, one hand near his elbow, ready to catch him should he show any sign of toppling. After a minute, his smile flashed, and he pointed with his chin toward the somewhat blackened trunk of an old river gum to the right of the cabin ruins.

  Once there, he sat down and released a somewhat shuddering breath. “Well, that was a fucking interesting night.”

  I glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear us. “What actually happened?”

  “As I said, I was attacked. But I certainly wasn’t in the bathroom at the time.” The fury I’d glimpsed before was fully evident now. “The bastards came equipped with magic.”

  “Fuck—what sort?”

  “The sort that restrains our access to fire but not our access to the mo
ther.” The smile that touched his lips was cold. Very cold. “They found that out very fast.”

  Which explained why he was so drained. Reaching for the mother when he was still in the recovery stage of rebirth had been a very dangerous thing to do. I twined my fingers around his again, needing the comfort of his touch. I could have so very easily lost him, because there would have been no calling him back. Not from the mother.

  “Any idea who they were?”

  “Well, they were very definitely vampires. Other than that, no.”

  I frowned. “De Luca’s get has come after me and Jackson a few times now, but I can’t see why they’d drive all the way out here to attack you. Besides, how would they even know you exist?”

  “I was at Highpoint when Parella shot De Luca, remember? Maybe one of his crew mentioned it to them.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Even if that were true, Parella and his people couldn’t possibly have known about the connection between us.”

  “Maybe it’s simply a matter of the den wanting to erase anyone connected to you.”

  “Maybe,” I said even as doubt gnawed at me. While it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that De Luca’s get had indeed decided to erase anyone I was close to, I doubted they’d have either the funds or the foresight to go to a witch and purchase a restraining spell. Not now that their creator was dead.

  “If they were vampires, they must have driven up here. Did you hear a vehicle of any kind?”

  Rory shook his head. “The police suspect they parked it in the scrub farther up the road and walked in.”

  I frowned. “Suspect? Meaning they haven’t found it yet?”

  “Not that I’ve heard, but they’re not likely to tell me even if they had.” He paused and reached into the pocket of his borrowed jeans. “I did manage to grab a couple of wallets before I cindered the bastards.”

  I took the two of them, then dropped one onto my knees and opened the other. There were a couple of credit cards bearing the name Harry Jones, and a driver’s license that apparently belonged to a Stephen White. I flipped it around so Rory could see the ID picture. “Is that one of the vamps?”