Stone of Ascension Page 2

  In a flash he was standing over Nate. “You must stay away from the dragon.” He reached down and yanked off one of Nate’s fingerless gloves. He raised the bare hand for her to see the intricately etched red-and-gold dragon tattooed on the back. “The mark of the dragon is evil. You must stay away from all who wear the dragon on their hand.”

  In a blink, the man was once again standing before her. He removed a small, carved box from the depths of his robe and shoved it at her. “You must take this, child. It belongs to you. But do not touch it until you are in the safety of the circle.”

  Amber took the box hoping it would make the man go away. A smile whipped across the old man’s face. He inclined his head, and the man holding her arm immediately released her.

  “Now run, child.” His demand left no room for questions. “Go home. Leave this town. Tonight.”

  Startled and baffled at all that had happened, Amber didn’t move. Her chest heaved and her throat ached as jagged breaths of air were forced out. Her fingers were clenched around the odd little box, frozen in place by cold and fear. She stared at the strange man like he was a figment of her imagination. Maybe he was.

  A low moan emanated from Nate as he stirred on the ground. The three men quickly faded away from her into the darkness.

  “I said run!” The ancient man roared, pointing to the open end of the alley.

  Amber jumped, then took off in a flight of pure panic. She clutched the box to her chest and barreled into the crowded street, straight into a rock-hard chest. Stumbling back, she ignored the sudden tingling that raced over her skin and bolted around the form that held the lingering scent of pine. She tore through the people, ignoring the shouts of anger. Her only thought was to flee.

  To do as the man said and run.

  Her focus narrowed to a pinpoint, eyeing the most direct path through the slow-moving people. Her nimble frame gave her an advantage and for once, her above average height was welcomed. The frigid air froze her lungs with each panting breath as sweat raced down her back. Red and gold lights lit up the area, the eerie sound of bagpipes still whining in the distance making the entire situation seem ever more foreign. Wrong.

  How was this happening to her?

  Her heart continued to race, fueled by panic, fear and the overriding sense that her life depended on her getting out of the city. Of getting away from all that was different and back to her quiet routine. Life with her overbearing aunt suddenly felt like a safe haven and not the prison she’d so recently thought it to be.

  She halted, breathing deep, trying to get her bearings. She needed a cab. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and itched in a feeling so strange she gasped, shuddered and protectively tucked the little box into her inside coat pocket.

  Out of nowhere, the head of a large, open-mouthed dragon bounded out of an alley. A scream tore from her throat. The dragon head whipped around, the empty black eyes bearing down on her. The red fringe of hair surrounding its face snapped wildly in the wind. The pointed white teeth glistened in the sharp lights that flared in the night. Irrational thoughts of death by dragon swarmed her brain and stunned her heart.

  The rhythmic, clanging crash of cymbals bounded into the silence, and the giant head swiveled away to lead the long, golden body into the street.

  Not real. Her heart restarted. Her mind reeled. Of course it was fake. It was just another dragon dance, a part of the celebration. Like the firecrackers.

  Tears threatened before she swallowed and quickly blinked them away.

  Dashing past the dragon procession, Amber pushed her way out of Chinatown to the busy street of Broadway. There had to be a cab there. Had to be.

  The wind pummeled her chest, forcing her to lean into the biting current to stay upright. She stood on the edge of the curb, frantically searching for an available taxi.

  A hard yank on her arm pulled her around as the pent-up fear finally left her in a silent shriek of pure terror.

  Chapter Two

  “Amber.” She heard her name shouted over the din of the receding dragon procession and her own frozen mind. “Amber, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  A sharp shake snapped Amber back. “Kayla,” she practically sobbed. Relief doused her, making her muscles limp as she embraced her friend.

  Kayla returned the desperate hug, and Amber worked to stifle her ragged breath and regain her composure. She was safe. The thought repeated in her mind, enabling her to slow her breathing. She pulled back and caught the questioning look Cara made to Stacy. The two women were also members of their tribe and part of the group that had come to New York City.

  “What happened?” Kayla questioned, keeping a tight hold of Amber’s hand. “What’s wrong?” Her knowing gaze searched Amber’s face.

  “Nothing. I’m fine,” Amber stammered as she flattened her expression and gave her friend’s hand a tight squeeze. She pushed back the mortification that filled her at the thought of what almost happened. Of what Nate had done to her. She couldn’t think of it right then or she’d crumble. “I just got a little overwhelmed by the crowd.”

  Kayla’s eyes narrowed, doubt lining her features.

  “Really, I’m fine,” Amber said, trying to reassure both her friend and herself. She forced a tight smile before she pulled her hand out of Kayla’s grasp. The gentle touch made her lie feel worse. “I’m just happy to find you.” That was the truth.

  “Where’d you go?” Cara asked. “Everyone’s been looking for you.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Kayla cut in. “We have to leave.”

  “What do you mean leave?” Amber looked between the other women, trying to piece together the conversation. The fact that it was exactly what she wanted only made her more nervous. How could it be that easy?

  “Grandfather called and said we needed to leave the city and return home tonight.” Kayla’s voice had lowered to a soft, hollow echo that sent chills of foreboding over Amber’s skin. Chills that reminded her of the exact same words the old Asian man in the alley had told her. “Or more specifically, to get you out of the city.”

  “What? W…why would he say that?” Amber stuttered in shock. Did the shaman know what happened to her? About the box? Nate? Her stomach churned in a state of denial.

  “You know how grandfather works. Why isn’t a question he answers,” Kayla said before she moved to the curb and scanned the street, her face a study of concentration as she peered into the maze of advancing cars and took charge of the situation.

  The very fact that the shaman had ordered them home only increased Amber’s anxiety. The respected elder never gave out unjustified demands.

  And no one, absolutely no one, questioned him.

  The shaman had an uncanny ability to sense…things. To know details about people or events that most people wouldn’t know.

  Amber licked her lips, unable to stop the quick look over her shoulder. She pulled the zipper closed on her coat, a stealth move to keep the box hidden. She wasn’t prepared to share the events of the evening with the other women. They had no reason to believe her, and she had no desire to relive what Nate had done to her.

  Or share the box.

  “Why did you disappear?” Cara asked, stepping up beside Amber. “You really upset Kayla.”

  “And now we have to leave,” Stacy mumbled, the younger woman looking away in annoyance. “Your mother might have been the tribe whore, but at least she knew how to have fun.”

  “Stacy,” Cara reprimanded. “That was uncalled for.”

  Shame—unwanted, underserved—shivered through Amber. Refusing to show how much the words hurt, she lifted her chin. Her mother’s past was not hers.

  “Then stay. I’m not making you leave,” she replied as calmly as possible.

  “Kayla won’t allow it. The guys get to stay, but we have to go home,” Stacy said, tipping her head at their unofficial leader. Like her grandfather, Kayla’s quiet authority combined with her legacy granted respect that few within the tribe questioned.


  “Here’s a taxi. Let’s go,” Kayla yelled back to them, checking her watch. “If we hurry, we can get our stuff and catch the last train home.”

  Amber waited until the women moved forward before she sucked in a deep, shaky breath and followed them. The wind pounded her, a hard sideswipe that circled and pushed before it shoved her toward the open door of the taxi. Again, that eerie chill drifted over the back of her neck, and she tucked her arm tight against the lump in her coat.

  Someone was there. Watching her. She knew this even though she couldn’t see them. Logic dictated that was impossible. That she shouldn’t know this. That is was a product of her wild imagination.

  Every other instinct told her it was fact.

  Did they want her? The box? Both?

  Why?

  Her breath hung in her chest until the doors slammed shut and the cab pulled away from the curb. She could handle the enemy next to her. The one she knew. The one she had long ago learned to battle.

  It was the unknown malice that prowled the shadows and vibrated in the air that tightened her stomach in barely contained panic.

  She needed to get home. Where she would be safe.

  Where the box would be safe.

  She didn’t question the odd thought. She just knew it to be true.

  The Year of the Dragon was not a year for her to celebrate.

  The yellow cab eased away from the curb, quickly lost in obscurity as it blended with the many taxis that filled the streets of Manhattan.

  But he still knew exactly which car she was in.

  Just like he always knew precisely where she stood within the crowd, no matter the size or location, at every rally he’d been forced to attend over the last three years.

  For some unknown reason, he always knew where she was.

  Even if he didn’t know who she was.

  He could have found out. He had the connections and status to make it happen. But what was the point? He couldn’t approach her. Be a part of her life or bring her into his when nothing could come of it but pain. His. Hers. Both. Yet, he still looked for her. Sensed her before he even saw her. Was drawn to her in a way that held no logic. So he resisted. As he knew he must. Then why was he here in Chinatown?

  The energy had pulled at him until he’d given in. Even though he didn’t trust it. Didn’t dare believe in the energy. Not anymore. Not since it had so brutally betrayed him long ago.

  And then he’d known. Instantly.

  It was the Year of the Dragon and she shouldn’t be here. Nowhere near such danger. Evil she couldn’t comprehend, but had unknowingly faced earlier.

  His fists tightened into hard clamps of suppressed anger as he thought of how close she’d come to being harmed. Of the sinister look that had glinted in the enemy’s eyes before he’d dissipated out of the alley like a coward. The Shifter had run instead of facing him, an Energen who could fight on his level.

  As rival factions of the Energy races, the two species had been mortal enemies since life began. Their battle established over the most devastating force on earth.

  Energy.

  Silent, invisible, intangible. Long before the humans even realized what it was, Energens and Shifters had fought for control of the energy. One to balance it, the other to own it.

  But why the woman? What interest was she to the Shifter?

  He closed his eyes and inhaled, letting the scent of cinnamon flood his mind. A memory of her, not the current surroundings. He vibrated with the energy, the rush of power and sensation that had ignited when she’d crashed into him as she fled the alley. Her touch, as brief as it was, had flashed like fire and ice in his system.

  Was she part of a plan? An enticing lure meant to trap him? But by whom? And for what reason?

  He felt the energy expand behind him, a brief ripple of warning that had him spinning around in defense. What he saw was not what he expected.

  “No,” the man said. “I usually am not.”

  “Who are you?” he demanded, ready for battle. Then he registered what the man had done, that he’d read his mind. His eyes narrowed, his distrust heightened. “You are an Ancient with the power of Spirit. Why are you here?”

  The old Asian man tilted his head, sending the long, white ends of his mustache swaying. “To remind you, Damianos Aeros, disgraced heir to the House of Air, of the prophecies of old.”

  “Prophecies mean nothing to me,” Damian bit out.

  “But they should, when they are about you.”

  “Impossible.”

  The Ancient continued as if Damian hadn’t spoken. His calm demeanor and soft voice added power to the words he recited. “A thousand years of exile, a thousand years of rebirth. Taken down in shame to rise in glory. At his side a virgin bride, the hidden bird to bind his soul. To this end, the world will flow. Without the rise, the world will fall. One of light, one of dark. Two to wield all five. Circles will rise and must hold strong. Together the two will lead us all.”

  Then he was gone.

  Damian cursed, frustration forcing him to kick the metal trash can that stood beside him. The resounding clang echoed down the alley, but did nothing to settle the unrest that stirred within him.

  Reaching deep, he buried the emotions, shook off the insidious desire that threatened to pull him under. A thousand years he’d been away. Pushed away from all that was his. Stripped of everything he’d known because of the energy. Because of the lies.

  But still, he hungered to return to his world. His family. Despite how impossible that was. How futile his wishes were. Dreams that were nothing but empty longing that raked him in the darkest of nights.

  No. His life was far from the Energen world. A life he’d built on his own knowledge and determination. One filled with success and respect, even if it was only from the humans.

  He took a quick look around then dissipated out of the alley, heading for home.

  This was not his battle. Not anymore.

  Chapter Three

  The sun was breaking over the horizon as Amber turned the key and dragged her bag into the antique shop in Newport, Rhode Island. Her shoulders sagged with relief the instant the lock clicked into place.

  The train ride home had been long and strained. The rest of the women had all dozed off either to avoid talking to her or to simply catch some sleep. In truth, she had been thankful that they’d slept since she couldn’t. Her mind had been too wired, replaying the events of the night.

  Absently she rubbed her tender neck. The mental image of Nate’s hand circling it flashed hard and fast in her mind. She winced and swallowed the bile that burned the back of her throat. Nate had tried to rape her. Had hurt her and threatened her life. Hate, pure and rancid, boiled in her. He’d made her feel so helpless. She was ashamed and disgusted but at whom? Herself or him?

  God, she should have listened to her aunt. She should have stayed in Newport and never gone to New York. The wild ramblings of her Aunt Bev crept into her thoughts. The constant lectures about how Amber was special. About how she must stay pure and that destiny had a plan for her. And what was that? For her to live a solitary existence caring for her aging aunt and a second-rate antique shop?

  The daring trip to the city had been just that. Daring. A walk on the wild side. And look where it had gotten her. She felt the tears rising and blinked them back.

  It was too much to process right then. If she let the emotions out, they’d take her down and she couldn’t let that happen. Not now. Not ever. She had to keep moving.

  Catching a quick look at the clock, Amber left her bag by the door and moved into the shop. Her aunt would be awake soon, and there would be hell to pay for her little adventure to the city.

  With shaking hands, she removed the wooden box from her pocket and set it on the cluttered counter at the back of the shop. She stared at it with a mixture of hatred and longing. The box was relatively small, about the size of a deck of cards, but in the shape of a diamond and around two inches deep. The exterior wood
was intricately carved in curling designs and curious shapes. The workmanship was exquisite and had the antique dealer in her awed and impressed by the technique, style and simple uniqueness.

  The woman in her saw nothing but an ugly reminder of last night’s events.

  The clashing feelings of desire and revulsion knotted the muscles in her gut. It was only a box, she reminded herself. But her skin crawled with the falseness of her conviction.

  The pull to open the box was startling. It smoothed over her in a wave of longing. Her fingers flexed in nervous anticipation. But what was it? What if it was something bad?

  Still, after all that had happened, she had to know.

  There was a tiny gold twist-lock on one side that was daring her to turn it. Open the box and look inside. See the gift. It was hers.

  In a flash, Amber snapped her hand out to twist the lock and flip open the lid. The air sparked with electricity, and the dank surroundings of the shop suddenly vibrated with expectation.

  Nestled within the box among the folds of royal purple velvet was the most beautiful stone Amber had ever seen. Diamond in shape, it was a strange mixture of white, violet and gold that shimmered and glowed like it was lit from within. The colors moved, blending to varying shades before her eyes.

  And it called to her.

  Her fingers tingled and her mind fuzzed.

  She had to touch it. Take it and claim it as her own. Something so beautiful couldn’t be evil. Numbly, she reached out to reverently caress the smooth surface of the stone.

  Pain. Fierce, searing, blinding tore up her hand, burning a path of scorching agony.

  Gasping, Amber jerked her fingers away, but the pain continued. She snapped the lid closed. What the hell was that? She stared at her palm, but saw no damage, not even a burn mark. Was this the punishment she got for going against her aunt’s wishes? For wanting something more in her life?