Lights of Aurora (The Stone Legacy Series Book 3) (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Zanya

Zanya readied herself on the mat in the dojo, dressed in her mom’s old training gear. She crouched while Peter circled her.

Renato, Hawa, Tara, and her mother stood on the sidelines, watching and coaching her as needed. Jayden and Tara sat on the sidelines.

Zanya had never trained in hand-to-hand combat, but Renato had insisted she learn how to defend herself in case she ran into another situation where her abilities didn’t work.

“Be sure to stay balanced and light on your feet,” Renato instructed. Zanya leaned forward on the balls of her feet, pivoting with Peter.

Peter charged toward her with an aluminum training knife clenched in his hand. Her stomach jumped and she threw up an electric shield. Peter smacked into it and flew across the mat.

Tara stood from her chair and gasped. Peter skidded to a stop and peered up at Zanya. “No powers.” He groaned as he stood. “That’s the whole point of this.”

She lowered her hands, and her shield instantly dropped. “I am
so
sorry. I got scared, and it just happened.”

Peter smoothed out his clothing and then snatched the training weapon off the floor and held it in front of him. “We’ll go again.”

Zanya nodded and crouched into a fighting stance. “Okay. Ready.”

Peter charged.

Zanya leaped to the side and glanced at Renato for instruction. “What now? What if I can’t move out of the way?”

“Then the next course of action should be to subdue your opponent using nonlethal force. We do not kill unless it is our last option.”

Before Zanya could respond, Peter charged at her again, this time wielding the knife in his opposite hand.

Her stomach clenched, and she threw a kick that landed right between his legs.

Peter’s face flushed, and he doubled over on the mat.

Eleuia laughed. “That’s some pretty effective nonlethal force.”

Peter rolled on the floor, cupping his groin with his hands. Zanya crouched beside him, hovering her hands over his body. “Oh my God, Peter. I’m so sorry.”

Tara rushed over and knelt beside him. She shot Zanya a glare. “Are you trying to kill him?”

Zanya stood and looked at Renato. “I suck at this. Can we stop?”

“Absolutely not. But perhaps it is time for Peter to take a break.”

Tara gripped Peter’s arm and helped him to his feet, and then guided him to the closest chair.

Zanya hung her head. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“All right,” Hawa said. She stripped off her jacket and dropped it to the floor, grinning while she approached Zanya on the mat. “My turn.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Zanya asked. “I think I hurt Peter pretty bad.” She bit her lip as Tara activated an ice pack.

“Stop procrastinating.”

Zanya sighed. “All right. What next?”

“Sprinting isn’t just about moving fast,” Hawa said. “It’s about seeing everything around you in as much detail as possible while moving too fast to be attacked. You will pick out details others can’t, and then use your knowledge against your opponent.”

“I didn’t see details when I was running through Moscow.”

“No offense, but that’s because you suck at sprinting.” Hawa stretched her legs as she elaborated. “You were moving fast, but not fast enough. Once you hit that sweet spot, you’ll see a whole new side of your ability.” She waved Zanya forward. “Come on. Charge me as fast as you can. No holding back.”

“Okay.” She crouched like a sprinter on her mark. “Ready?”

Hawa stood casually with her arms crossed. “Just go.”

Zanya burst toward Hawa with all of her strength. It seemed like a split second before she had to screech to a stop so she didn’t crash face-first into the mirror lining the back wall.

Hawa stood behind her on the other end of the mat. “You didn’t even see me move, did you?”

Zanya shook her head.

Hawa examined the room. “There’s not enough space in here. We need to move outside.”

“But it’s raining,” Renato said. “Are you sure it is a good idea?”

Hawa shrugged. “A little rain never hurt anyone. Besides, it’ll give her some practice in less than ideal conditions. It won’t always be sunny and dry when she needs to sprint like I do.”

“I think we’re going to stay behind,” Tara said, still nursing Peter.

Peter gave a thumbs-up. “I’m good,” he grunted.

Zanya sighed. “I feel so bad.”

“He’s a healer,” Renato said. “He will be back to new in no time.”

She was thankful for that, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

Zanya followed Renato, her mother, Hawa, and Jayden out the back door to the beach. The skies were a deep gray, and the sand was wet and hard with rain.

“Okay.” Hawa threw her hair in a ponytail and dug her feet into the sand. “Just try to keep up. I’ll start slow.”

Zanya mimicked her cousin’s stance. “Ready.”

Hawa nodded. “Let’s hit it.” Before Zanya could respond, Hawa was gone.

Zanya sprinted forward.

The sea and cliffs on either side of her blurred into indiscernible smears, though the small roadblocks were still clearly visible.

A piece of driftwood washed up on the beach.

A large rock sat in the sand.

The rain smacked her in the face as she pushed harder to find Hawa. The plump drops of water turned into tiny razors biting at her skin. She finally caught up with her cousin and fell in pace beside her. The ends of Hawa’s hair feathered out into what looked like strokes of watercolor in midnight black.

“Nice to see you finally caught up,” Hawa said. Her voice sounded so far away. “Let’s pick up the pace. You good?”

Zanya nodded.

Hawa pushed ahead. Zanya squinted against the rain and wind, prompting her body to move faster, stronger, more aerodynamically.

The air rippled, and suddenly everything around her slowed down. The raindrops fell, exploding against the packed sand when they made impact. The waves seemed to pause. Each blade of grass, bent over from the force of the cold breeze, creaked with stress. She heard everything, saw everything so clearly. It didn’t seem real.

Hawa smiled. “There you go.”

Her cousin seemed like a completely different person as an expression of joy and playfulness washed over her. Hawa wasn’t just a professional at sprinting, she truly loved it. Now it was obvious why.

“Is that all you got?” Zanya shouted. There was no telling how far they’d run, but from her best guess, it was at least five miles. “Last one home cooks breakfast tomorrow.”

Hawa nodded. “Just so you know, I like my eggs over medium.” She pushed forward, flying ahead at an impossible speed.

Zanya hooked a U-turn just seconds before she spotted everyone gathered on the beach ahead. She skidded to a halt, plowing her feet deep in the sand. They covered their faces with their hands as grains showered over them.

Zanya smiled, panting. “Oops.”

Hawa stood with one hand propped on her hip. She strutted back to the house. “And biscuits,” she said over her shoulder. “With apple butter.”

Zanya dusted the sand off her clothes and looked at Renato, whose prideful gaze mirrored her mother’s expression.

“I did good?”

Eleuia stepped forward. “You did great.”

Zanya’s muscles were suddenly weighed down with exhaustion. She swallowed as waves of dizziness threw her off-balance. “Whoa.”

Her mother reached out and steadied her. “Take it easy. The vertigo after sprinting that fast can put you on your ass.”

Zanya used her mom as an anchor until the tornado in her head stilled. “Yeah, no kidding. Will that happen every time?”

“No. You’ll get used to it. It’ll just take some practice.” Her mother slowly let go of her arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Zanya smiled softly and let go of her.

Jayden strutted toward her with a crooked grin. “Pretty impressive. You got moves.”

Zanya smiled. “Thanks. It was actually pretty cool.”

Eleuia’s gaze ping-ponged between them and settled on Zanya. “Well, it looks like you need some rest. Maybe your friend here can get you something to eat and keep you company.”

“I think I can make it to the kitchen on my own.” The vertigo had passed, and now she was just sleepy.

“Yeah.” Her mother shrugged. “I just thought you could use some company. Plus he’s cute. It couldn’t hurt, right?”

Zanya’s lips parted. “He’s my
friend
.”

“But you guys used to date, right?”

“Wha—” She shifted her weight. “How do you know that?”

Eleuia glanced at Renato.

Zanya exhaled and rested her hands on her hips, glaring at her uncle.

“Don’t be mad. I dragged it out of him.” Eleuia tugged playfully on Zanya’s hair. “Besides, the dead kid is well-intended, and at least
he
isn’t evil.” She analyzed Jayden. “Dead, and still an improvement on your last pick.”

Jayden stood silent until her mother left. With his brow raised, he leaned in close to Zanya. “Did your mom just drop a hint about us?”

“
So
not her place.”

The door to the house opened, and Zanya glanced back at Tara, who stood in the doorway.

“Done?”

Zanya looked back at Jay. “Do you mind? Even though we live in the same house—in the same wing—somehow I haven’t seen Tara for what feels like forever.”

His smile faded and he lowered his head. “Oh. No, it’s cool.”

A streak of guilt ran through her. Besides her and Tara, Jay didn’t have anyone to hang out with. “You want to come?”

His head popped up. “Really?”

With everything he’d been through, it wouldn’t be right to leave him. “Yeah, really.”

He threw his arm over her shoulder, and they started the walk back to the house. It was nice to have Jay back, even if he was a total asshat half the time, and even if he was kinda dead.

“I miss the hell out of you, Zanya. I mean, when you’re not around.”

“When am I not around?”

He paused and then pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “Never mind. Don’t listen to me.”

“Jay.” She took his ice-cold hand. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks about you. I’ll always be around. You can’t get rid of me.”

He walked ahead in silence. Before long, a chuckle pushed out of his chest. “Damn it, Zanya. You have to stop doing this to me.”

“Doing what?”

“Saying stuff that makes me think you’re not still in love with jungle boy.”

Her breath hitched, and the ache in her heart flared. “You can’t love someone you never knew.”

“But you liked the side of him you did know.”

Her heartache dulled, overrun by resentment. She’d been so stupid. After everything they’d been through, he’d screwed her over anyway. “When it comes down to it, we’re not over because of who he is. I’m done because he crossed a line. He did the one thing I told him was a deal breaker. Lying by omission is just as bad as lying to my face.”

“So you don’t believe in the whole
destined to be together
thing anymore?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what to believe, but I do know how I feel. Right now that’s all I can depend on.”

They walked silently for a while before he spoke again. “Hey, what about the healing sessions?”

Zanya’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I forgot all about it since you haven’t been in pain.”

“It’s cool. But I would eventually like for my chest to not look like a piece of gnawed-on trash dragged out by the neighborhood alley cat.”

Zanya crinkled her nose. “That’s gross, Jay.”

“Yeah, no kidding. So, tonight? My room?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

They approached Tara, who waited with her foot propping the door open.

Jay held the door open for her. “I think I’ll let you two chill without me in the way.”

Zanya paused. “But I thought you wanted to come?”

When Tara disappeared into the house, Jay grinned. “Nah. I just wanted to know you wanted me to come.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Arwan

Arwan knocked on the door of Contessa’s home. It creaked open, allowing warm light to pour out. The scent of savory food wafted from inside.

He stepped back. Everything about the witch put him on edge. She wasn’t just powerful but cunning, and the feats of magic she was capable of would keep him cautious. He took off his bag and leaned it against the side of her house.

“Contessa.” He dared not enter her home without seeing the temptress—knowing where she was and keeping a constant eye on her.

The voice of a woman echoed from inside.

Arwan arched his brows. The woman’s voice was not Contessa’s. He would recognize her snaky tone. The voice he heard was soft and silky, full of joy and familiarity.

He pushed the door open to a room lit with the warmth of candlelight flickering in every corner. His mind was pulled back to the home he and his mother had shared when he was a young boy—to the ten nights before solstice, when they spent the evenings filling their home with scented candles, lighting them each by hand to signify the arrival of spring and new life. It wasn’t a common practice but something they had begun as a family tradition. He missed it dearly.

He stepped through the threshold, entering a dreamlike atmosphere. A soft haze blanketed the scene in front of him.

A young boy with black hair played with a wooden train on the living room floor. Arwan stared down at the foggy image of himself, all those years ago.

It could not be real, no matter how much he wished it were. Still, he ignored his instincts, all of which were telling him to get out while he could. He hadn’t seen his old house since before his mother had passed. It was the only place he’d ever really felt safe.

When he reached out to touch the boy, a woman glided into the room. Her thick, black hair was pulled back in a French braid, and her heart-shaped face beamed with serenity and light. Big, brown eyes gazed down at the boy as she passed.

Arwan’s throat ached while he stared after the woman—his mother. He cautiously followed her into the kitchen, where he found her humming as she arranged bundles of herbs in vases. She pressed her nose into a bushel of what looked like mint, and her lips spread into a soft smile.

She raised her gaze, showering him in angelic light beaming from behind her eyes.

He extended his hand, and her image wavered like a mirage. She examined his gesture, then offered her outstretched hand in return.

Her soft laugh carried through the air, becoming louder until it filled the space. The dreamy atmosphere shook with dark energy. Arwan pulled back his hand, and the scene around him melted into puddles of muddled color. His mother’s features twisted and contorted into something unworldly. The mask fell away to reveal Contessa, leaning against the counter in a bloodstained satin slip.

A noxious stink filled the air and invaded his nose. The windows were all closed, trapping the odor inside the gloomy room.

Contessa tried to stand straight while gripping her stomach, both amusement and pain woven into her features. Taking slow, backward steps, he examined pages from the book tacked on her walls, many of them now marked with blood.

He’d come here to get something, and he wouldn’t leave without it.

“You poor, pathetic boy.” She cackled, limping toward him. Her legs were dotted in deep-colored bruises, and her arms crawled with purple veins stretching up her neck. Arwan didn’t know much about Contessa, but the witch was obviously clinging to life. She sucked in a gasp and hunched, gripping her ribs. The power radiating from her pressed against his skin. She turned her head to expose a bald scalp on one side.

Arwan squared his shoulders, his eyes locked with the witch’s. He had to be calm and strategic. Hopefully, if his plan didn’t go well, she would be too weak to fight, and he would escape with his life.

Her eyes narrowed, and she forced herself to stand up straight. Contessa dragged her gaze over the walls of her home, examining the pages on display. “You’ve come for something in my possession.”

She tore a page off the wall and waved it in the air, watching his reaction with a calmness that made his stomach pitch. “I believe this is why you came. To uncover the mystery surrounding your tainted lineage.”

Bile churned in his gut from the stench of rot and death.

“As you can tell…” She gasped short, labored breaths. “I am not at my best.” Her focus was trained on the pages he held. “Though you could assist me with that, considering I have something of great value to you.”

He shouldn’t engage her in negotiation, as no encounter with the black temptress would end in his favor. But the truth was, while he stared into her eyes, shimmering with underworld magic, he was not all that different from her. They both shared a common spawning, and if anyone could sway the woman, it was him.

He drew in a deep breath and refocused himself. “What does the page say?”

Her lip curled into a snarl. “If you’re willing to give me a fair trade, you’ll soon find out.” Her face twitched. “Speak quickly, boy.”

He studied her failing body. “You’ve been exhausting yourself. Why?”

She slowly craned her neck and tilted her head, leering at him with a predatory gaze. “I need more. More than what these weak, insufficient humans can provide. More to complete what I must do.” Her sudden fascination with him made the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge. “We can assist each other. You can return my power, and I can provide you with freedom—a way to win back your guardian’s affections and rid yourself of the burden you carry.” She pursed her lips, gazing into his face. “Such a heavy cross you bear.”

The air sparked with black magic. He tried not to notice the dark energy caressing his skin, awakening the dormant creature deep within.

Arwan clenched his fists.

“Ahh.” The moan passing through Contessa’s lips enticed his darker half, already awakened by the pull of the solstice. “I see you,” she said in a singsong tone. “The real you, deep down, fighting to get out.” She inched toward him, the page still clenched in her hand. “I can give you peace. All I want in exchange is something you wish to rid yourself of. I can take away your pain.” She stretched out her hand and rested her index finger against his chest. “I will tear the darkness out of you.” His skin burned from her touch. “And she can love you again.”

A war raged beneath the calm surface of his gaze. Their energies clashed and danced. Without some kind of escape, the worst would happen.

Contessa examined the page in her hand. “It speaks of your beloved mother, the martyr.”

The way she said the last two words sent a blaze of heat coursing through his veins. He watched the life in her eyes dim as she struggled to keep her finger pressed against his chest. Her arm trembled under the stress.

“What do you mean, ‘martyr’?”

“Oh, my poor boy.” Her touch scorched his skin, and a crawling ache wound around his lungs. “Your mother was not killed because she bore you. She met her end at her own hand.”

The ache clenched like an iron claw, forcing the air out of his lungs. “What? Are you saying my mother committed suicide?”

“This single page will make it clear.”

A low growl escaped his throat as his inner darkness bled into his mind, polluting him with thoughts of underworld savagery.

Contessa curled her fingertips into his muscle. “And as for the rest…” Her lips parted, her eyes shining with desire. “I cannot take it without your consent. You are heir to the throne, after all, and your father is still king. You must say it. Say you will give me your power of your own free will.”

“You can do that? You can…make me normal?”

“Better than normal, boy.
Immortal
. You can spend the rest of your life with the one you love. Everything you want, I can give to you. All you need to do is to say yes.”