Lights of Aurora (The Stone Legacy Series Book 3) (13 page)

***

Zanya

Zanya sifted through the clothes on her hotel room floor, all of which were dirty. She picked up a tank top and pressed it to her nose, then frowned at the stale scent. She hadn’t done any laundry since they’d left Renato’s house.

A few solid knocks on the door made Zanya jump. She walked to the peephole and spied through it to see a hazel eye with red lashes staring back at her. Zanya grinned and opened the door.

Tara smiled, cradling a basket of laundry in her arms. “Wanna keep me company?”

“Wow. You read my mind.” Zanya tossed her tank top into Tara’s basket and gathered the rest of her clothes. “There’s a laundromat here?”

“Yep. First floor. And I have a pocket full of Russian coins, in case you need some.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” She snatched a pair of jeans off the floor and bunched the rest of her clothes in her arms. “I’m surprised you didn’t go out with Hawa. Dancing sounds way more exciting than doing laundry.” Zanya walked back to Tara and propped the door open with her foot.

“Not really my scene.”

Zanya grabbed her keycard and stepped into the hall. Tara let the door fall closed. “All you ever talked about in the orphanage was getting out and doing stuff like that.”

“Yeah.” Tara swallowed as she walked beside Zanya toward the elevator. “I guess I’ve had my fill.” She pressed the Down button outside of the elevator doors.

“I find that hard to believe.” Zanya chuckled.

The doors pinged open, and they both filed inside. Tara jabbed the button for the first floor, and glanced at Zanya. “Yeah, well…”

The hesitation in her friend’s voice made Zanya still. The elevator pinged, and the doors slid shut, sealing them inside. “Well, what?”

“Stuff…might have happened while you were gone.”

Zanya’s brows shot up. “
Stuff
?”

“Yep.” Her lips popped at the end of the word. “Stuff.”

Zanya’s stomach rose in her throat, only partially because the elevator’s downward drop. “Are you going to elaborate?”

Tara examined the elevator walls. “Not in here.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you freak out, you could kill us both.”

“What would I have to freak out about,
exactly
?”

Tara pursed her lips, looking around the small space as if Zanya hadn’t said a word.

“Seriously?” When Tara didn’t respond, Zanya grit her teeth and watched as the digital display above the elevator door counted down from the tenth floor. When the doors pinged open, they exited the elevator and followed the signs pointing to the laundromat. “Okay, so…” Zanya continued.

“I kind of met a guy.”

Zanya stopped midstride. “Excuse me?” She was sure Tara and Peter were soul mates. How could this happen?

Tara rolled her eyes “Not
that
kind of
met
. Just a guy.”

Zanya clung tighter to her wad of clothes. “What about him?”

“His name was Malachi.” Tara pushed open a door. The low hum of machines and the scent of fabric softener drifted into the hall. “Come on. I’ll tell you about it while we’re sorting our clothes.”

Zanya walked silently through the door into the room of stacked washers and dryers. Tara placed her basket on top of a folding area. “Colors first?” She plucked out a few garments and tossed them in the washing machine beside her.

“I guess.” Zanya dumped her clothes next to Tara’s. Zanya watched as Tara sorted her laundry as though they weren’t in the middle of a conversation. “Are you trying to torture me?”

Tara slid a line of quarters into the coin deposit. “Promise you won’t freak out.”

Zanya held her breath and nodded.

“Okay.” Tara turned and leaned her back against the folding counter. “I met a guy named Malachi who took me to a dance club. I kind of got in some trouble.” She examined Zanya. “And after Marzena used my memories to find Sarian, I remembered what happened when Sarian took me.”

Zanya balled her fists. “What?”

Tara held her finger in the air. “You said you wouldn’t freak out.”

Zanya slowly uncurled her fingers and took a deep breath. “I’m not.”

“I was lost. You weren’t here, and Peter couldn’t make the memories go away. Then I met Malachi and found out that some people can be good and evil at the same time.” Tara smiled. “I helped a group of girls who needed saving. I was pretty proud of myself, actually.”

Zanya arched an eyebrow. “Helped, how?”

“Rescuing them. I was able to be the person I wish I’d had when I needed help the most.” Tara bit her lip, smiling through the words. “It was good. I’m good.”

“But you remember.”

Tara’s smile softened. “Yeah. But the nightmares are gone, so I just try not to think about it. That seems to work most of the time.”

“And when it doesn’t?”

Tara shrugged. “I have Peter. I have you.” She bumped Zanya with her hip. “I’m okay.”

It was all her fault. If Zanya could have found Sarian first or if she had been there instead of going with Arwan to the underworld, maybe she could have stopped Tara’s pain. “Was remembering worth it?”

Tara paused and then nodded. “I know who I am now, and I believe in myself. That makes it all worth it.”

Chapter Sixteen

While Renato checked out of the hotel, Zanya settled into an oversized chair in the lobby and sipped the dark roast coffee she’d snagged from the continental breakfast.

“Feeling better?” Arwan took a seat across from her with a crooked grin.

“Much. Thanks.”

He glanced at the clock mounted to the far wall. “We’re running late.”

“I’m sure Jayden will be down soon.” She glanced at the black SUV parked out front. “Everyone else is in the car?”

Arwan nodded.

“Maybe I should check on Contessa. Who knows what she’s doing with the book.”

“Are you sure this is a good place to do that? There are a lot of people around. What if something goes wrong?”

“I could do it on the plane, but that’d cause a massive scene.” Especially if it were anything close to what had happened when Sarian broke the obedience spell on her stone, it’d be newsworthy.

“How about the car.”

“Yeah, while we’re going seventy-five miles an hour on the highway.” She chuckled. “It’ll be fine. Now be quiet so I can concentrate.”

He didn’t protest anymore, though he had a point. If something went wrong while she sought Contessa, everyone in the lobby would see it. She would have to have faith in her ability, and her stone.

Zanya closed her eyes and concentrated on Contessa’s long red hair, bright green eyes, and angelic voice. Fog and light flickered behind her eyelids, and a mental window opened to Contessa standing in her living room. The witch mumbled to herself as she read the pages of the Popol Vuh tacked to her walls. She must have disassembled the book and tacked each page to the plaster, lining her home with the ancient texts. Contessa paced, her normally smooth waves now wild and untamed, matching the feral gleam in her eyes.

The witch doubled over and grabbed the corner of the wall while gripping her gut. After a moment, she dragged herself into the far bedroom of her quaint home.

Zanya struggled to follow her through the house. Contessa’s black magic was stronger than Sarian’s. Maybe her strength was the reason he wanted Contessa dead in the first place.

Zanya settled deeper into her chair, reached into her pocket, and curled her fingers around her stone. It gave her the extra pulse of energy necessary to peer through the fog of Contessa’s black magic.

When the vision cleared, her breath stalled and her muscles coiled.

Maybe nearly a dozen bodies, all of them men, were splayed out lifelessly over the floor. Some were half-dressed, but all of them displayed the same wide eyes and gaping mouths—terror frozen across their faces.

Contessa sorted through the corpses, growing more and more agitated when she didn’t find a single one of them still alive. She turned back toward her door, seething, her hands balled into fists. She stormed into her bathroom and turned on the shower. Steam rose into the air and fogged the room with a soft cloud.

“Not enough. Not enough.” She frantically arranged beauty products on the vanity.

The air sparked with dark magic, and pain shot through Zanya’s temples. She gripped the armrests of her chair while focusing on the image. There could be something worth finding if she held the link long enough.

Contessa stepped in front of a full-length mirror fastened to the wall and analyzed her reflection. With a shrug, her robe slipped off her body and floated to the tile floor.

Her skin, once milky and flawless, was now covered in blue-and-purple bruises.

Contessa’s eyes narrowed as she ran her fingers through the length of her hair, smoothing it down to resemble her usual glossy waves. When she pulled her hand away, a mass of red strands were caught between her fingers. She stared down at the clump and clenched her hand into a fist. Her gaze slowly rose back to her own reflection, and a shriek tore out of her lungs. The mirror shattered, spitting glass at her feet.

Zanya jerked out of the vision, coming back to the hotel lobby with a sharp pain shooting through her temples. “Ouch.”

Arwan watched her without saying a word. He was obviously concerned, though there was nothing he could do to help. Head-splitting migraines were just one of the many perks of being the guardian.

“Contessa is definitely up to something.” She rubbed her eyes. “She’s been gorging on souls and it still isn’t enough. She looks weak.”

“She’s using all of her energy.”

“After the bag full of souls she sucked up in the underworld, that can’t be good.”

“Renato strode across the marble floor, his black shoes gleaming under the bright lights. “We’re all checked out. As soon as Jayden comes down, we’ll leave.” He checked his pocket watch. “We cannot wait long.”

Zanya checked her watch and frowned. “Yeah, we’re cutting it close.” Her phone buzzed. She grabbed it out of her bag and read the text from Jayden.

Jayden: Room service kicked me out.

She stood from her chair with a smirk. “Speak of the devil. He’s on his way.”

They all walked to the SUV. Arwan opened the door for her, and she climbed, settling beside Hawa, who looked half-asleep with a cup of Starbucks coffee cradled in her hands. Arwan sat beside Zanya and shut the door.

Renato sat behind the steering wheel and turned in his seat. “Should we be expecting one more?”

“Yeah. He said—”

The passenger door opened on the other side.

Hawa squinted at the sun. “Hey!”

Jayden stared at Zanya for a moment, then glanced at the others. “Sorry. I’ll get in the back.” He looked at Tara, who was sitting in one of the two remaining seats. “Unless…” He eyed the spot beside her.

Tara’s cheeks flushed, and she patted the empty space. “Come sit next to me.”

Jayden flashed a subtle smile and squeezed between Zanya and Hawa to the back of the SUV. Once he settled down, Tara punched him in the arm. “How ya feeling?”

He rubbed his bicep. “Better, until now.” He grinned.

Zanya turned to face the front and let out a long breath. Thank God. Things would have been awkward the entire way back to Belize if Tara were still freaked out. But, whether Jayden liked it or not, when they returned home, they would have to figure out exactly what had happened to him.

Salty air poured through the open car window, tickling Zanya’s nose. She smiled softly at the sight of the sandy coast as they drove past it toward Renato’s home. The humidity stirred memories of her arrival at his estate and the fascination of first strolling down the winding beach.

Everyone had been civil on the way home. She was thankful for that. No drilling Jayden with questions. No prying stares. No smartass comments or bitter attitudes. Everyone seemed to just want to relax and decompress.

Renato steered the SUV onto the bumpy road that led to the house, and Zanya sat up straight when the estate came into view. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Welcome home,” Renato said as he slowed the car to a stop. Zanya was the first to step out.

Renato wasn’t kidding when he said Marzena was overseeing renovations. The roof, which used to be aged terra-cotta, was now made of copper that glistened under the tropical sun. The cracks that ran along the stone exterior had been filled and blended until they were no longer visible, and the stained-glass windows had all been replaced.

Marzena stepped out of the front door, anticipation flooding her childlike features. Her hair was in a tight bun, and her emerald eyes were glued to the driver’s side of the car.

Renato stepped out of the vehicle, cueing Marzena’s smile—something Zanya had never seen before.

While Arwan and Peter unloaded the bags, Zanya walked with her uncle to greet the timeless dreamwalker. As they approached, Marzena was focused on Renato, probably communicating with him using her telepathic abilities.

Renato paused in front of her. “It’s good to see you too, my old friend.”

Marzena’s gaze traveled to the car behind them, and her smile vanished.

Zanya turned to see Jayden walking toward them. Renato had surely told Marzena about Jayden’s condition. Hopefully she wouldn’t object to Jay staying at the house. After all, Marzena may have looked young, but Zanya was all too familiar with her power. The seemingly innocent girl was capable of doing some serious damage.

“Hey, Marzena.” Zanya smiled. “It’s good to be home.”

“
It is good to have you home, where you belong,”
Marzena’s voice echoed in Zanya’s thoughts. Zanya winced. It had been a while since the dreamwalker had spoken to her using her mind. Maybe one day she’d use her voice, if she even had one. It wasn’t apparent if Marzena could actually speak.

Zanya scaled her gaze over the house. “Great job with the upgrades. Looks amazing.”

Arwan and Peter scooted past them with luggage. Tara wasn’t far behind, leaving Hawa to drag herself out of the car.

Zanya waited for Jay to go inside. Instead, he lingered behind her, making the awkward air even thicker than it already was. Zanya grabbed his arm and tugged him past Marzena, holding her gaze. “We’ve all had a really long day. I’m going to get Jay settled in and get some rest before dinner.” Zanya offered a smile before pulling him up the stairs and into her bedroom. Once she was safely out of their earshot, she shut the door and rested her back against it. “What’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you just go to your wing?”

“Because. I saw the way that dreamwalker was staring at me—like children of the freakin’ corn. Creepy.”

“Oh stop. She just doesn’t understand. Not yet. Give her some time to get used to the idea.”

“What idea?”

“Of…you know.”

“A dead guy living in her house?”

She scrutinized his body. He was walking better, without a limp like before. “Have you healed at all?”

He shook his head.

“Well, are you still in pain? You don’t seem to be.” She stepped toward him.

He backed away.

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged. “I’m just…I don’t know.”

“You can talk to me, Jay.”

“Yeah. I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Do you think it’s true, what they said about me?”

She let out a long sigh. “I really don’t know. All of us are a little—”

“Freaked out?”

“I was going to say confused, but thanks for putting words in my mouth.”

He dropped his shoulders. “Sorry.”

“Can I take a look?” She gestured to his chest.

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no
’
?” She reached toward him. “I just want to see—”

He stepped back. “Stay away from me, Zanya. I mean it. I don’t want to hurt you.” He hung his head. “I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.”

“To hell with that. I dragged your ass back from the underworld and then vouched for you to Renato. So if there’s something I should know, you need to tell me.”

He exhaled. “I…” He swallowed. “Look.” He slowly dragged his sleeve up his arm, exposing long, deep gashes.

Zanya gasped. “What did you do?”

“Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt.” He yanked his sleeve back down. “Nothing hurts. Not anymore. I’m a monster, Zanya. I’m not even alive.” His jaw flexed. “I had to find out for myself.”

“
You
did that?” She pressed her fingers over her mouth.

“It only hurt at first, but when I stopped thinking about it…” He shook his head. “It just didn’t anymore. Do you think I’ll…?” He avoided eye contact for a moment, and then gathered the courage to meet her gaze. “Do you think I’ll start to…?” He rubbed his eyes. “Damn it. Do you think I’ll start to rot or something?”

Zanya’s lips parted. “Oh, that wouldn’t be good.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Um…I…” Jayden had always been so confident, usually to the point of arrogance. Now he was like a child who needed to be shielded from the world. He was searching for some kind of comfort, and all she could do was sputter like a moron. “Look.” She took his hand. His fingers were like ice, and she resisted the urge to pull away. “I know you’re scared, but everything’s going to be okay. I’ll keep healing you. Every day if I have to.”

His features softened. “Thanks, Zanya.”

“Of course.” She yawned. “You want to crash out in my room tonight? You can sleep on the weird, curvy couch thing over there.” She pointed toward the white chaise on the far side of her room.

He grinned. “As tempting as that is, I think I’ll sleep in my bed. Besides, I’m sure Arnie and the healer will wonder where I am if I’m not in the west wing where they can keep an eye on me.”

He had a point. Everyone was on edge. “All right. Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yep.” He opened the door and moved into the hall. “So, that healing session you mentioned. Tomorrow morning?” His grin widened.