Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2) (8 page)

I wrapped my hair up in a high bun on top of my head and jumped in the shower.
My mind buzzed in anticipation of getting out of the apartment, and I spent the majority of the time dreaming of what I would see and how I would recreate the city for Ryland. His little heart seemed so broken by what had happened before that I needed to do something to help him, to cheer him up. He needed to know how much I cared for him. If I had learned one thing it was to never bring up who he used to be.

What if he never remembered
? What if I was doomed to visit the Tȍuha every day for the rest of my life? Or worse yet, what if the possessed form of Ryland died, taking my Ryland and the Tȍuha with him. If that happened I knew I would die too. Maybe then Ilyan could save me with whatever mystery procedure he had planned to try before.

I shook the thought from my head and stepped out of the shower, thinking again of magical cities and already plannin
g games we could play in a newly built realm within the Tȍuha.

I had dressed without thinking and now that I was looking at myself in the mirror, I wanted to scream. What was Ilyan thinking?
Tight, bright turquoise jeans, and a bright white t-shirt? I gaped at myself in the mirror, horrified. Colors? Tight fitting clothes? I wanted to throw up. I grabbed for the hoodie, desperate for something to cover up with. It was bright red, to match my shoes I guessed, and fit as tight as anything else. The fabric was so thin it was almost non-existent. I yelled out in a panic, and stormed from the bathroom, determined to make Ilyan go out and purchase something more reasonable.

I had made it a few steps out of the bathroom when I froze. Ilyan was leaning against the kitchen counter
speaking in Czech, his focus on the phone he had pressed against his ear. My jaw dropped, he looked so different. I had never seen his hair braided before. The long blonde strands were perfectly woven together in a golden weave that trailed down the back of his head to fall half way down his back. The absence of sheets of hair framing his face defined his facial features more. He looked more distinct, stronger somehow. His light hair contrasted starkly with his tight black polo shirt. For the first time he wasn’t wearing torn jeans, instead he had opted for dark washed skinny jeans. I cursed his style sense. He looked good.

Ilyan
looked up at my entrance. His line of sight trailed to the precarious bun on top of my head before he laughed. I pulled the hair tie out, having forgotten the silly thing was still up there. He clicked his phone shut and moved toward me. I closed my mouth after realizing it was still hanging open.

“What?”
he asked, his accent rolling around the word.

“You look...” I paused, unsure of what to say, or even how to phrase it.
The only word that came to mind was sexy, and saying that aloud to Ilyan was wrong on a very deep level.

“Did I do it wrong?” Ilyan asked, alarmed. He jumped away fr
om me and ran to the night stand where a magazine was folded. He unrolled it and flipped through it looking for a specific page. Having found what he was looking for, he rushed back over, shoving a picture right under my nose.

The magazine picture was a Louis Vuitton ad featuring a man dressed in exactly what Ilyan was
wearing. I looked from the ad to Ilyan a few times in shock before I began to laugh. So much for style sense, Ilyan had just been copying ads he had found in fashion magazines. My laugh continued to grow as I snatched the magazine from him, flipping the pages until I found a similar ad, this time with a girl wearing what Ilyan had provided me.

“Vat?” Ilyan asked
, his agitation accentuating his accent. He shifted his shirt, obviously worried he was doing something wrong.

“Nothing,” I managed through my laughter. “It’s nothing, I thought...”

“What?” Ilyan asked again, his face screwed up in alarmed confusion. I dampened my laughter and placed my hand on his arm.

“
Have you really been taking style hints from magazines all this time?” Okay it was more than hints, it was downright plagiarism, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Yes! How else do
you expect me to fit in? Your clothing styles make no sense to me.” He shook his head and walked away from me, ignoring my returning laughter.

“Well, I am going to need new clothes; I can’t go outside in this.”

“Why not?” Ilyan rushed back to look at the magazine, obviously not understanding.

“Well they are tight, and have colors, and...
and...” Ilyan hiked an eyebrow at me like I was crazy. “This hoodie has no fabric what-so-ever.”

I threw
both the magazine and the offending hoodie at him. He caught the sweater and the magazine floated before him for a minute, before setting itself on the counter. His face broke into a wide smile, happy his clothes weren’t really the issue.

“Pants I will replace, the hoodie you are going to want to keep.”

“I can’t wear this out, Ilyan. There isn’t anything to it.” He laughed at me again, and I fumed a little bit.

“
It’s one hundred and ten degrees out there today, Silnỳ. You wear any other hoodie and you’ll pass out from heat stroke.”

“One hundred and ten
degrees?” It never got that hot back home, ever. I would be surprised if it even got to ninety in the summer. I cringed. That extra twenty degrees sounded miserable. I couldn’t go out without a hoodie, I couldn’t. I grumbled and grabbed the hoodie back from him, trying to ignore the way his face lit up, the joy behind his eyes.

Eight

Th
e
city of Santa Fe was full of life. From what I had seen from the confines of my tiny prison, I never would have thought that city streets could have so much energy.

Ilyan had walked me out of the apartment and into the boiling heat of the city, his hand wrapped firmly around mine.
I felt his magic pulse through me as his shield protected me, keeping me hidden.

I had not been very happy wit
h the idea of holding his hand, but the skin connection was needed to keep the shield in place. Besides, Ilyan had promised me it would only be for an hour, and then he would release me, taking the shield with him. I wasn’t strong enough to hold my own shield yet.

The idea of being unshielded in the middle of the city scared me
. The thought of Ryland finding me – scratch that, hunting me – sent an uncomfortable mix of jitters and nerves through my already bristling stomach. I tried to settle it with the knowledge that Ilyan would be there. No matter how much this ‘Protector’ nonsense gave me the heebie-jeebies, I knew Ilyan would in fact protect me. And that made me feel more comfortable. Whether or not he would tell me why he was my Protector, I still felt safe with him being around.

Ilyan
took me out of the apartment and onto the street below, a green taxi already waiting for us. He held my hand tightly as he helped me into the car, his body moving to sit right up against me, even though there was plenty of room in the backseat.

The car
had barely begun to move before my nose was plastered against the window. I watched in wonder as the driver sped us downtown at Ilyan’s instruction. It had been three months since I had been outside. Three months since I had been able to feel the wind or the sun. I felt it briefly before we got in the cab, but now it was right outside the vehicle, taunting me. Without permission, I rolled down the window and stretched away from Ilyan to get as close to the hot breeze as possible.

I felt the
warm air move into the car. It swirled around and made the air conditioned space uncomfortable, but I didn’t care. I could feel it. I could feel the energy in the wind and the pulse of the sun. My magic began to buzz at the sensation the wind gave me, the feeling of earth energy – or whatever it was – filling me up.

“Maybe
sightseeing wasn’t such a good idea,” Ilyan laughed behind me. “Maybe I should have taken you into the mountains and let you roam free for a few hours.”

“You make it sound like I’m a caged animal, Ilyan.” I didn’t look away from the window
. I leaned closer to the moving air, letting it pick up the strands of my black hair and move them around.

“If you get your head any
further out that window, you are going to look like a dog. A caged dog.”

I could hear the chuckle
behind his voice, the happiness infectious. I looked back at him briefly before leaning away from him, pulling his arm and torso with me as I stuck my head and shoulders out the window. The driver began to yell as I stretched my face to the sky, the sun and the wind warming my face. But I didn’t hear what he said, I didn’t care. I smiled at the way the sun warmed my nose, the shiver of energy flowing down my spine, the way my shoulders seized as if I had been tickled. Ilyan said something back to the driver a moment before his hand tugged me into the car, his arm wrapping me against him.

“You are going to upset our driver, Silnỳ.” Ilyan
spoke against my temple, the latent smile evident in his voice.

“I didn’t even get to stick out my tongue.”

“Next time little puppy, next time.” Ilyan patted my head condescendingly and I laughed a bit, moving away from him with a joking snarl.

“Caged animal, remember,” I said. Ilyan smiled widely at me, his shoulders shaking as he held in a laugh.

“Yes, I remember.” His smile broadened as the car pulled to a stop, the driver announcing our arrival and the charge, which Ilyan promptly paid. “How would you like to be free?”

“You
gonna let me fly?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.

“Not today
.” Ilyan pulled me from the car, lifting our intertwined hands to eye level. He moved my hand close to him until his lips pressed against the back of my hand. His eyes met mine over the top of our hands, giving me that look I couldn’t quite understand.

My stomach flipped and
I cringed away from him. I did not like the contact and I really did not like the way my body reacted because of it. I fought the need to pull my hand away, knowing I needed the connection, so instead I held on tighter and walked down the busy street, towing Ilyan after me.

After a few steps
, I slowed to a stop. This part of Santa Fe was nothing like I would have expected it to be. Instead of tall glass skyscrapers, there were perfect rows of adobe buildings, each carefully built to replicate the old style of the Native Americans and Spanish Settlers. The burnt orange color of the buildings contrasted with the blue sky beautifully. The whole street was lined with adobe structures and at its head there was a large sandstone cathedral. It was a graceful box of ancient architecture with its elegant stone arches and circular stained glass windows. It was beautiful, even though it didn’t look complete without the tall stone towers that are common in cathedrals.

“Wow
.” I said, a bit more awed than I intended, but the way the street was designed kind of deserved it.

“I take it you like it then?”
Ilyan said and began leading me down the street, his hand tightly wound around mine.

“Honestly, I would like anything as long as it had moving air, but this has
a unique charm. It’s kind of... unexpected.”

“San
ta Fe has a long drawn out history. The buildings are designed this way as a reminder and a link to the past. It’s one of the reasons they don’t have a larger downtown.”

“I don’t think they need it,” I said. My eyes dragged over one of the buildings as we passed,
its interior was an upbeat teen clothing store. The window was filled with graphic t-shirts and feather accessories – clothing that Wyn would wear. The contrast between the old and the new was somewhat silly, but it didn’t take away from the nostalgia of the architecture.

“Prague is mostly the same. There is the old town and the new town. The new never mixes with the old.”

“And is there a cathedral there as well?”

“A few,” Ilyan
said. I could tell there was more to his answer, but part of me didn’t care at the moment. I wanted to focus on this city and my current freedom.

I let Ilyan take the lead, his embrace gently
pulling me along as we walked by small boutiques and larger restaurants. I finally had to pull him to a stop when we came to a row of street vendors under the overhangs of the buildings. Each person had a blanket set in front of them with jewelry, watches, and other handmade objects laid out, each with a tiny paper price tag. I slowly walked by them, taking in the large amounts of turquoise and silver.

My feet stopped when I saw it
. The simplicity of my need making my legs week.

A long board.

It wasn’t even for sale. It was simply someone’s possession, being used as a different way to showcase the intricate turquoise jewelry that lined its top. But still, I needed it.

Mine had been lost forever when Ilyan had picked up my broken body from behind that dumpster
and brought me into this crazy world I now lived in. I missed it. I hadn’t longed for it in that deep pining way I had seen other teenagers do, I simply missed it. I missed what it represented. I missed the part of me that had disappeared when it had. I missed normal.

I kneeled down ne
xt to the street vendor’s blanket, Ilyan’s hand never leaving mine. I looked up at the old wizened woman, her legs covered with a beautifully woven blanket. She looked down at me happily.

“Which one do you like?” Ilyan’s voice was soft in my ear.
It took me a second to grasp what he was talking about. He thought I was ogling the jewelry.

“I don’t wear jewelry, Ilyan
,” I answered honestly, suddenly worried that he would buy me something.

“Which one?”

I scowled at him, unsurprised to find him smiling at me expectantly. I sighed before pointing absent mindedly at the board. Ilyan raised an eyebrow still trying to figure out which one I was talking about.

“I like the long board, Ilyan
,” I clarified, looking away uncomfortably. “It reminds me of mine.”

“Sometimes I forget how much you have lost. People, loved ones, even objects. It’s all part of you.” Ilyan squeezed my hand, and I turned back to him as his fingers trailed over the jewelry lightly. They fluttered around the bracelets and necklaces before stopping on a small turquoise bracelet with stones flat against one another; it wasn’t jagged like the others.

Ilyan picked it up and held it in his hands, his eyes closed as if he was measuring something.

“Turquoise,” Ilyan began, “can draw out negativity. Did you know that?”

“No.”
I was a little surly, but I didn’t like the idea of Ilyan buying me jewelry. And I had a bad feeling that was exactly what was going to happen.

“And this particular turquoise will help bring up feelings of love, and of family.” Ilyan looked up at the old woman who nodded her head in agreement, her beautiful face breaking into a smile.

“Your young man is right,” she said, her voice shaky and warm. I almost wanted to laugh right out at her comment. Ilyan was neither young nor mine. “That is Navajo turquoise, it will bind you to your family and to the ones you love.”

The old woman
smiled knowingly at Ilyan, her face lighting up. I turned to bat her assumptions away but was stopped by Ilyan’s smile. My face instantly widening in surprise, Ilyan rarely smiled like that. I must have looked ridiculous, because Ilyan smiled happily at me.

“We’ll take it
.” Ilyan held the bracelet underneath my wrist, his magic unclasping it and snaking it around me. I looked away nervously from his obvious use of magic to the old woman who was busy counting the money Ilyan had paid her with.

“Ilyan... I...” Ilyan pulled me away from the seller before I could argue more.

“I think it will help you, Joclyn. Trapped in rooms, hunted, people trying to betray you, running for your life,” he smiled, but it was sad, “I think you could use a little bit of a negativity release. With all that’s going on, you could use a stronger connection with those who care about you. It’s no long board, but I will replace what you have lost – as much of it as I can – when all this is over.” I could only nod at his words and the sincerity behind them.

I lifted my wrist up to look at the stones
. They were pretty, but part of me wanted to take it off and give it back to the old woman. As much as I didn’t like the message of the stones, I could already feel my magic collecting around my wrist, seeping through the stones and then back into me. It did it of its own accord, whether I wanted it to or not. I smiled a bit before shrugging my hoodie sleeve over the bracelet, letting it disappear from view.

Ilyan continued to move down the street, his pace s
low, but somehow more focused than it was before.

We reach
ed the end of the street, the large cathedral now towering over us. Ilyan dragged me over to where another street vendor was selling empanadas, but my eyes never left the cathedral. The large church was raised up above the street level. Smoothly cut stone formed delicate arches that surrounded the beautiful stained glass window that sat directly above the door. It was breathtaking.