Ascended Page 23

  A gentle tapping filtered into her consciousness.

  “Jae!”

  Caia.

  Ryder growled under her lips, and she peeled herself off him. “Her timing sucks.”

  Smiling ruefully, Jae buttoned her shirt again. “Coming!” she called and then threw Ryder a warning look. “I’m letting her in.”

  He squirmed uncomfortably, a slight flush rising on his cheekbones. “Give me a minute.”

  Snickering at his predicament, she thrust a cushion at him and hurried to the door. Caia stood on the other side looking a lot more put together than she had in the last few days. She looked over Jae quizzically and then blushed. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

  How did she know?

  “Your hair …” She gestured vaguely.

  Jaeden felt her head and realized her hair was twice as big as it usually was from Ryder running his hands through it. “Oh … I, um … was experimenting.”

  She ignored Ryder’s snort.

  “Anyway, what’s up?” She stood aside to let her pass.

  “Hey, Ryder.” Caia gave a little wave and threw him an apologetic look after taking in the candles and romantic setting. “I didn’t mean to bother you guys.”

  “No bother,” he assured her amiably.

  Jae took a seat next to Ryder. “I thought you would be busy getting ready for the ceremony tonight.” Caia was being made Head of the Coven in a matter of hours.

  “Nah, I know what they want me to do. I’ve been hanging out in the library.”

  What the Hades was she in the library for? “Why?”

  Caia shrugged. “Oh, just reading up on the ceremony and stuff.”

  “Oh, makes sense.”

  “Yeah.”

  After another pause, Ryder coughed, “Do you, uh, want me to leave?”

  Caia shrugged again and threw Jae a pensive look. “It depends if Jaeden’s comfortable talking about her telekinesis in front of you.”

  A sick feeling settled in Jae’s stomach, and she felt her defenses rise. “Yes. Ryder can stay.”

  Her mate frowned. “What is this about?”

  Caia shook her head, her hands fluttering nervously as she read their sudden tension. “No, I don’t want to alarm you. It’s nothing too serious. It’s just … well … when we were at Eliza’s home fighting … Jae, didn’t you realize that your telekinesis worked on the lykans in wolf form?”

  Huh?

  She knew she must look stunned. Truthfully, the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. Wow. It had worked against the lykans. “Oh, yeeaahh.”

  Ryder looked confused. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.” Caia watched Jae. “I don’t want you to worry about it, though … I just think that at some point, it’s something we should look into.”

  She stiffened, panic tightening her chest. “Look into how? By experimenting?”

  Caia looked aghast at the suggestion. “Gaia, no! I thought maybe a blood test. We don’t know if your telekinesis is part of a transfer of magik from Ethan or if it’s an emotional parting gift from what happened to you. There are theories that severe emotional trauma can cause us to tap into parts of our brain we don’t normally use, thus giving us access to things like telekinesis.”

  This conversation was making her uncomfortable. “Does it matter?”

  “Not to me.” Caia smiled gently at her. “But if it’s magik, then somehow you’ve managed to discover a new kind that penetrates the biggest defense a lykan has. That’s important. And also … if it is magik, does that mean it’s genetic?”

  Ryder relaxed into the sofa. “You mean, will our kids have it?”

  Caia nodded.

  Wow. Jaeden hadn’t even thought of that. Was this something her kids would get from her? And did that make her and any kids she had a threat, because she could hurt lykans in wolf form?

  “Is this a problem, Caia?” she whispered, trying to tamp down the nervous butterflies waking up in her gut.

  Caia stood, and as she did so, her power crackled around her. “No,” she replied firmly. “I came here to suggest that we keep it between us. Only Lucien and I, and now you guys, know about this. I think we should keep it that way. If after all this you want to know more about it, then we’ll look into it. But I think it’s safer all around if this never gets out, and that you refrain from using your telekinesis against lykans in wolf form.”

  Relief washed through Jaeden and she gave her friend a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

  Caia looked shy as she turned to walk back toward the door. “Don’t. I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

  She was the second person in the last ten minutes to say something that sweet to her. A warm revelation settled over Jae. The pain caused by her father’s death would never disappear, but the loneliness was slowly melting away.

  And all because she was lucky enough to have soul mates.

  Her legs shook as Caia got down on her knees in the middle of the court. Like last time, all the Daylights sat upon the rows and rows of benches, the Council seated in the row before her. Unlike last time, her pack was in the crowd, and the Council wasn’t out to get her. Well, for the most part, she thought, ignoring Benedict De Jong’s displeased expression.

  The time for the ceremony had come, and she had been warned, as had the pack and everyone else, that once she inherited the title of Head of the Coven, the impact of the trace would hurt. Trace magik, when inherited as it had been for Caia, was easier to manage; it was a gradual addition to her magik. For most, however, the trace was inherited by ceremony, and it could be painful. Thus the Center had been warned not to overreact if Caia displayed signs of discomfort. Her hand twitched. Just how much discomfort were they talking about? And would the pain last long?

  The rite asking the gods to take back the trace was not being performed until the Hunter’s Moon, or Blood Moon as it was often called (Caia felt Blood Moon was more fitting considering she had to offer up some of her own during the rite), which was another four days away. Four days of excruciating pain didn’t sound like fun.

  “Caia Ribeiro.” Alfred Doukas stood up. Like the rest of the Council he wore pale-blue ceremonial robes with the Fasces on their left breast. The Fasces was a bundle of rods tied together containing an ax in the middle with its blade projecting. In ancient Rome, it had been carried in front of the magistrates and symbolized authority. The Council couldn’t have been clearer about how they saw themselves within the coven.

  “You kneel before us today in supplication to the gods, asking them to bequeath favor upon you and grant you the gifts only bestowed upon that of this coven’s leader.” At that the Council all stood as one and made their way around the bench to the platform. One by one, they lowered themselves to their knees, Alfred Doukas only marginally closer to her than the others. “We, the Council, kneel with you, and ask the gods to grant this favor.”

  As one they pulled small daggers from their robes and slit a shallow cut across their palms before holding it up to the heavens. Caia took that as her cue and gripped tight to the dagger Marion had given her, biting her lip as she scored it across her left palm, squeezing back the sting of tears as her flesh opened and the blood ran out. She held it up to the heavens and cleared her throat.

  “Mother Gaia, Potnia Theron, my lady Hemera. I beseech you, praying you find me deserving of the great gift of the trace.”

  A tingling eased the pain in her palm, and Caia gazed at it in amazement as it glowed with an ethereal light. Dazed, she glanced over to the Council and saw their palms also shimmered with the energy. She gasped as the tingling grew sharp, turning hard, as if a hand were gripping it tight. And then she was seized, watching helplessly as bolts of energy shot into her body, rushing through her veins as cold as ice crystallizing her very insides. The sensation of falling took over, and she blanched as her head struck something hard. The blurry view of the ceiling told her it had been the floor.

  A soft buzzing started
in her ears like little whispers. And then the whispers grew to voices, drowning out the buzzing.

  And then voices grew into weapons.

  Thousands of energies poured into her, piercing through her skin like a million fiery needles, the pain so excruciating Caia lost herself.

  She was no longer Caia.

  She was anguish, she was torment. She was suffering.

  Vanne and Ryder held Lucien back while Reuben held on to Jaeden and Magnus. Lucien strained against his friend and the magik’s grip, sweating and spitting, desperate to get to Caia, who writhed and screamed in the middle of the floor like a madwoman.

  “Get off me!” he snarled, pulling out of Vanne’s grip only to be halted by Ryder’s arm hooking around his neck and dragging him back.

  “They told us it would be like this,” Ryder tried to reassure him, but Lucien could hear the concern in his friend’s voice. The Daylights all leaned forward in their seats, each wearing the same expression of horror and anxiety. Oh yes, they had been warned Caia might show signs of discomfort, not screaming her head off as if she were on fire! He growled again and attempted to get out of his restraints.

  Caia, he thought imploringly, I’m with you. I’m with you.

  To his astonishment, her screams died to groans and she didn’t writhe as frantically. His jaw dropped and he wondered if she’d heard him through the trace. No, surely not. But as her screams grew again, he lurched forward.

  Caia! Don’t! I’m here, you’re okay. You’re going to be all right, just hold on.

  Her screaming dimmed.

  I can’t get to you physically because these assholes are holding me back, but I’m here. Just take a minute, breathe. Breathe, Caia …

  As Lucien’s voice fought through all the others, Caia grabbed tight to it and let its soothing comfort ease the pain. She felt her body relax as he crooned to her, and the burning ice thawed a little. Her head still pounded with all the energies, Daylight and Midnight alike, but concentrating only on Lucien dulled it, sending it to the back of her skull rather than it being an all-encompassing pain.

  “Lucien,” she whispered and grew still.

  After a few minutes, a face appeared above her. Alfred Doukas.

  “Caia?” he queried, his eyes bright with concern. “Are you all right?”

  His energy tingled in her veins, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt his concern was genuine. He was a good man, Alfred Doukas.

  “I’m fine,” she croaked and tried to push to a sitting position.

  “Caia!” She turned to see Lucien bounding down the stairs and onto the platform. He dropped to his knees beside her, his eyes wide and bewildered.

  She smiled wearily at him. “Thank you.”

  His silver gaze turned to smoke. “It worked? You heard?”

  Her eyelids drooped. “I heard.”

  “I think you better get her to her bed, Lucien, before she falls asleep in the court.”

  “Is it done, then?” Lucien asked.

  “It’s done.”

  28

  It’s Between You and Your Gods

  Getting rid of the trace for Caia was just the beginning. No one, not Reuben, Saffron, Marion, nor the Council, had approached her with explanation or understanding of what would come next once the gods had freed them all from the binding power of the trace. But as the days turned over and she fought off the painful effects of having double the trace, it niggled at Caia, taunting her and illuminating the fact she would never truly be at peace until the war as it stood was over.

  “But what can you do?” Lucien asked softly as they lay together on the third morning after the ceremony. Since that night, she hadn’t left his side, now fully comprehending what it meant for him to be her mate—he was the only one who could quite literally ease the pain.

  At first, he still seemed anxious with her, and she guessed he was unsure of her feelings for him after kicking her out of the pack and the Rose debacle (she was now awaiting trial, sitting in prison as they spoke). She wasn’t going to lie—she’d been pissed off and hurt. But so had he.

  So, Caia promised him there was nothing to forgive. Life was too damn short, and she wanted to live it with him. It had not escaped everyone’s notice they hadn’t left the bedroom since the ceremony, but they’d be surprised to know they’d spent much of it talking (well, mostly).

  “I don’t know,” she replied, frowning. “I just know that even after tomorrow … this won’t be over for me.”

  “Are you going to stay and fight?”

  Her breath hitched. “Would it be okay if the answer to that question is I don’t know?”

  Lucien huffed and squeezed her closer. “Of course.”

  “Will you wait for me?”

  Chuckling, he rolled her over so he was braced above her on the bed. “No. I won’t need to.” He laughed again at her scowl and smoothed it away with his fingers. “I won’t need to because I’ll be right there with you, fighting anybody you want me to.”

  She raised her eyebrows, looping her hands around his neck and wriggling provocatively. “Looks like I’ve just been promoted to Alpha then, huh?”

  Lucien made a face. “Well, the job is yours if you want it, but I should warn you that the contract is bull. I’ve received none of the promised perks.”

  “Perks?”

  “Oh, you know … a lifetime supply of beer and foot massages, a harem of women to bathe and clothe me, et cetera …”

  She snorted and pulled back from him. “A harem?”

  He grinned unrepentantly. “Did I mention my sense of humor is also greatly underappreciated?”

  For Caia it was a relief to know Lucien and the pack were behind her as she waded through the murky waters of Daylight politics.

  When she met up with the Council the night before the rite to go through the details, she fought to ignore the strain of the trace and decided to put forth the question that had been pressing heavily upon her.

  “After this, what’s next?”

  The Council was seated in Alfred Doukas’s suite, joined by Vanne and Marion. The frosty tension between those two had caused a little awkwardness at the beginning of the meeting, but everyone seemed determined to ignore them. Caia threw a quick glance to Vanne who was resolutely snubbing Marion. She remembered how grief-stricken he’d been when he thought she’d died. Obviously, he hadn’t forgiven her for not enlightening him about her plan to deceive Marita.

  “Next?” Benedict sneered.

  “When the trace is gone, what next? We’ll be free, but the war as it stands will still exist. How do we end this?”

  “We don’t,” Benedict retorted sharply. “The details of the war will be left for the Council to deal with.”

  “Now, Benedict—” Penelope began, but Caia wanted to speak for herself.

  “You mean, you intend to use and then discard me?”

  “No, Caia,” Penelope rushed. “That is not at all the intention of the Council.”

  “I think Caia should be put forward for a place on the Council,” Vanne interrupted.

  A place on the Council? Caia stared at him wide-eyed. She hadn’t meant that as such but … actually … it was an idea. If she were a member of the Council, she would have a say in how they went about ending the war. She could have an impact on the treatment of Midnights and Daylights alike.

  The Council gazed at him open-mouthed for a moment, before Marion cleared her throat. “I agree with Vanne.”

  He glared at her. “I didn’t ask you to.”

  “Well, I do,” she snapped, muttering under her breath about idiots acting like children.

  Benedict was outraged. “How dare you suggest such a thing? There are only nine places on the Council, and those have been filled.”

  The young magik, Derren, cleared his throat and everyone turned to face him. He was an enigmatic man and only spoke when he had something of import to say. “I agree with Vanne and Marion. Caia is too valuable a member of the Daylights to throw back out
to the wolves. She should be an integral cog in our machine, as she has already proven her worth tenfold.”

  Shocked silence settled around the room. Finally, Alfred stood. “If it would be the will of the Council, I suggest we at least discuss the possibility of adding Caia to our noble ranks after the rite has been performed.”

  “Hear, hear,” Penelope muttered, and a round of the same followed—from all except Benedict who was content to skewer Caia with his gaze.

  The rite was not to be performed before the entire Center as the Acquisition of the Trace ceremony had been. It was a private ceremony between Caia and the gods, and so she was led to the deepest level of the Center where caverns had been sculpted into the building like damp, salt-smelling sea caves. The goddess Gaia, unlike Zeus who roamed the skies, preferred enclosed spaces, and so it was often thought appropriate to perform any rites to her within dwellings like a house or cave.

  “Are you ready?” Penelope asked softly as they stood inside the humid space, waiting as the torches were lit around the area.

  Caia nodded, shivering with nerves. Or cold … she was completely naked beneath her blue robe.

  “We’ll be out at the elevator. Waiting.”

  She nodded again and watched silently as Penelope and the two magiks who lit the torches fumbled their way out of the dark caves. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to gaze at the almost-circular room. In the middle stood a tripous, a three-legged sacrificial altar with a large stone basin upon it. Carved into stone were the names of the living gods accompanied by a prayer for them to hear her.

  With great trepidation, Caia removed the dagger from her robe, and then removed the robe itself. She stood shivering and as naked as the day she was born. Thank goddess she got to perform this one alone. She actually blushed, even though there wasn’t anyone else to see her.

  Except the gods, Caia, she reminded herself.

  Tentatively, she approached the altar, wincing at the gritting sand and stone beneath her feet. And though she knew it wasn’t possible, she swore she could hear the rush of the ocean in the distance. It was so weird.