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  Heirs of Avalon © 2016 Alica Mckenna-Johnson

  Published by AMJ Publishing 2016 at Smashwords

  Copyright 2016 by ALICA MCKENNA-JOHNSON

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cover and formatting: Sweet 'N Spicy Designs

  HEIRS OF AVALON

  Book Three of the Children of Fire Series

  Alica Mckenna-Johnson

  Christmas lights and her sixteenth birthday brighten Sapphire’s days. Her London nights are warmed by the attentions of Ramsey, a kilt-wearing selkie with a smile that promises both fun and trouble.

  She is growing into the role of leader of the Children of Fire. But her closeness with Ramsey and choice to withhold information causes distrust within her family. Their weakened bond allows a new evil to grow, unrecognized, around them.

  Horrified by the consequences her decisions have on the people she loves, Sapphire has to choose between her own happiness and her responsibilities as the Jewel of Akasha.

  http://eepurl.com/bc5bzn

  I dedicate this book to you, the beautiful, unique, intelligent person who is reading these words right now. Without you I wouldn't have the strength to write and edit and revise over and over until I wanted to cry. Without your kind emails, happy tweets, sweet messages, and thoughtful reviews I wouldn't be an author. For those of you who cheered me on in my fanfic days, supported me as a baby author, and are now joining my writing journey I feel blessed by each and every one of you.

  Chapter One

  “Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn.” ~ C.S. Lewis

  Never, ever, offer to help a leprechaun pick up its spilled gold. Groaning, I stretched. My hand protested as the scabbed-over teeth marks pulled, and my stiff muscles resisted the movement. Blinking, I looked around the room wondering where I was. Rich cream-on-cream striped walls gave away no secrets, and the mirrored sliding door leading to what I assumed was the closet didn’t look familiar either. Sitting up, I watched the cream cotton sheets and black satin comforter pool around my waist. Swanky, yet, still unfamiliar.

  Scooting to the edge of the bed, I let my toes hover over the polished oak floors, where a pair of white slippers waited for me. I slid my feet into them and stood, my knees wobbling. What in the world was wrong with me? I shuffled towards a door, but the locks on it marked it an exit and not the bathroom I desperately needed. I looked around. In the center of the room stood a cream love seat with black throw pillows, facing a flat screen TV set on the wall a few feet from the front door. Black drapes with hints of sheer cream underneath covered one wall. An ornately carved desk and chair sat against the far wall, and next to it another door. I opened the door, and couldn’t help but gasp at what I found. It was the largest hotel bathroom ever. The sink, counters, and bathtub were carved out of some pale tan stone flecked with white. Glass encased a separate shower stall, and finally, I found the toilet. Ooh, thank goodness.

  After I freshened up it was time to figure out where I am. On the desk sat a full sized pad of stationery with Royal Garden Hotel, London, England, embossed across the top. I pulled open the thick, black satin drapes, and revealed sheer cream underneath. Beyond both of them I saw a park. Gray branches reached into the foggy December sky. I placed my hand on the cool glass, and saw where red scabs marred my light copper skin. Stupid leprechaun. I remembered opening a portal in Ireland, getting bitten, the walk-ins, and then rushing to the hotel. The rest of the Cirque du Feu Magique had gone ahead to Belfast. Most of them have no idea who we are or why we travel with them, except Michael the ringmaster and his daughter Nyota, our tech wizard.

  Belfast had crashed through my empathic shields. I was too tired and weak to protect myself, and the pain trapped in the stones of the city overwhelmed me. The last thing I remembered was being stuffed onto a small plane with images of bombings and the screams of its victims flashing in my head.

  I heard a soft knock on the door, then it opened. “I’m checking on her now, Gavin,” said Anali. Her shoulder-length hair looked mussed from sleep, and her turquoise nightgown and robe glowed bright against the neutral colors of the room. She held a cell phone in her hand. “Oh. Good morning, Sapphire. Feeling better? Yes, Gavin, she’s up. Well, I don’t know how she feels, she hasn’t answered yet. Well, perhaps if you spoke to her.” Anali handed me the phone.

  “Hi, Uncle Gavin,” I said, my voice raspy.

  “Sapphire, are you okay?” I held the phone away from my ear. “I am so sorry. I should have known.”

  Anali looked me over as she placed her hand on my forehead, then handed me a glass of water. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

  I nodded then guzzled the water.

  “Good. I’ll go get changed and then come back and help you get ready,” she said.

  I nodded again and waited for a chance to speak. “Uncle Gavin, calm down, I’m okay now.”

  “You sound fine,” he said his voice soft.

  “I am fine. Ireland was lovely, except for the damn leprechaun. I had no idea I would react so strongly to Belfast.”

  “I should have known. You were tired, and we were all drained from opening that portal and running from walk-ins. My only thought was to catch up to the circus and Nyota. I knew she would have the dampening field set up in the hotel and we’d be safe, but then …” Gavin’s voice cracked.

  “‘Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God, do you learn.’ C.S. Lewis said that.”

  Gavin chuckled. “One of the quotes from your mom’s journal. So what did she have to say about experience?”

  “We can do our best to read and prepare, but life will always be our greatest teacher. We will make mistakes, flounder, and sometimes fail. But as long as we learn from each experience, then it isn’t bad or wasted. Try not to stress out about being prepared for everything—that is impossible. Just do your best and learn,” I recited from memory.

  “True,” he sighed. “But still …”

  “Uncle Gavin, none of us thought I would tap into the tragedies that had happened in Belfast. It was too much and too new. I was unprepared to deal with it. Anyway, you got me out of there.”

  “I worried when you didn’t wake up right away. Anali said you were fine.”

  “And she was right. Isn’t she always right?” I teased.

  Gavin huffed. “Yes, she is, but still you were asleep for over twenty-four hours. How do you feel now? What do you feel now?”

  “My body’s a bit stiff, but if I slept that long, I know why. My empathy isn’t picking up on anything specific right now. But this hotel seems modern, and we are pretty high up.”

  “I thought that would help,” Gavin sighed. “After the trouble you’ve had, I didn’t want to put you in an older building. I hoped being higher up might help buffer anything
that had seeped into the ground.”

  Gavin did this for me? We stayed in nice places, but this was insane, and I couldn’t imagine how expensive. I ran my fingers over the silky drapes. He chose this place to help me?

  “Can you feel anything at all?” he asked.

  I closed my eyes and reached out to open up my empathy to the area. A gentle hum of old magic came from the garden. “If I open up, I can feel an ancient magic.”

  “You said the same thing about Ireland.”

  “Yes, but Ireland felt more mischievous. Not that the magic here is all serious, just a calmer playfulness. It’s like magical beings have lived here for so long their powers are soaked into everything.” I laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there was pixie dust in the soil, and fairies’ tears in the water. It’s everywhere.”

  “But it all feels safe?”

  I took a deep breath allowing my empathy to stretch out. “There are dark beings here just as they are everywhere. Nothing feels overwhelming or sinister, and from my room I have to focus to feel even a faint shadow of magic. Thank you, Uncle Gavin.”

  “I’m glad I was able to make things easier for you.” Gavin sighed, and I imagined him running a hand through his wild flame-red hair. “I have to go. Have fun with Anali. We’ll be there tomorrow morning. Tonight’s the last show.”

  “Tell everyone I said hi. Hey, what did you tell the circus people?”

  “I told them you had a severe migraine and sometimes they can last for days, so I sent you and Anali ahead for the peace and quiet.”

  “They bought that?” I’d seen some of the circus performers rolling their eyes at the lame excuses we gave over the past year. Of course, if we came right out and said, “Hey—we are descendants of a Phoenix King and Queen. We’ll be gone for a week while we open a portal to Akasha, return magical creatures to their home, and battle an ancient evil,” I doubt that would go over very well either.

  “As much as ever.” Gavin answered. “They know they are paid well and given much better food and lodging than most circuses, so they put up with my eccentric ways. I need to go. Michael wants everyone at the gym in half an hour.”

  “All right. Have a good day.”

  “Bye, Sapphire, and stay safe.”

  “You too, Uncle Gavin.”

  Guilt trickled into my stomach, I felt bad for not being there for the show tonight, and for keeping Anali away. Even though we needed to disappear now and then, we did our best to make it to performances. Sighing, I opened the closet door. My clothes had been hung up or folded onto the shelves on the side. Anali must have gotten bored. I grabbed some clean underwear, socks, jeans, a tee shirt, and sweater and headed for the shower.

  After trying all the different settings on the shower—rain being my favorite—I felt ready to face the day. Anali sat at the desk flipping through a guide book. “Feeling better?”

  “Much,” my stomach growled. “Well, except for being hungry.”

  Anali smiled, her brow crinkling around her red bindi. “That we can fix.”

  Luxury surrounded us. The décor was subtle and simple, but even I knew it was the best quality. The brass railings on the elevator didn’t even have smudges or fingerprints on them. Anali’s footsteps echoed on the black marble floor of the lobby. Her pink cotton pants and tunic, trimmed with silver leaves and vines, were reflected in the marble’s polished surface. Note to self: be careful when walking across this floor in a skirt.

  My stomach growled again as we reached the restaurant. The gentleman seating us wore a crisp, dark gray suit. A moment later a woman in a white blouse and straight black skirt filled our glasses with water. “What can I get you this morning?”

  “A pot of Oolong tea to share, and I think we’ll have the continental breakfast,” said Anali.

  “Very good. I’ll bring that right out.”

  Anali patted my hand. “You stay here. I’ll bring you something.”

  “Okay.” I sipped my water and watched the other guests, feeling very conspicuous in my simple outfit. I felt like I was sitting in a movie or fashion magazine. Well-groomed people ate with impeccable manners. Silk ties and scarves were in no danger of having anything spilled on them. Hair stayed put, possibly from gel and hairspray, but I suspected it was force of will that all should be perfect that kept many locks in their stylish dos. I ran my hair through my damp curls, and my fingers caught on a tangle.

  Almost a year ago—had it only been a year?—on the morning of my fifteenth birthday, I woke up to find my brown hair had turned black with fire-red streaks. My dull gray green eyes had become pale peridot green with golden flecks, and my light brown skin had become a soft copper brown. I went from being another unwanted group home kid to Gavin’s niece and the Jewel of Shamash and Aya, the Phoenix King and Queen, my direct ancestors. Here I sat in London, days away from my sixteenth birthday, and I still felt lost in a faerie tale. Of course today it seemed more like an episode of Doctor Who because of all the lovely British accents.

  “Here you go.” Anali handed me a plate filled with several pastries, a bowl of yogurt topped with muesli, and fresh fruit. “There is also a selection of cheese and rolls if you want something more savory.”

  “Thanks, Anali, this looks great.” I picked up a pastry and moaned when I tasted the filling of bittersweet chocolate and almonds. Instantly I felt better.

  “Pardon me,” said the server setting down a white tea set with hand-painted periwinkles and poured us each a cup of tea. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, thank you,” said Anali. She turned to me. “It’s been two days since you’ve eaten, so make sure you eat slowly.”

  Stuffing the last bite of chocolate almond awesomeness into my mouth, I nodded and added honey to my tea. She was right. As much as I wanted to try my first scone, I needed to slow down before my stomach cramped. Instead, I watched as Anali covered her scone in clotted cream and lemon curd.

  “So what should we do today?”

  I shrugged and sipped my tea.

  “Well, we can stay in and watch TV or read if you’re tired. Or do touristy things. Or you could finally admit that you’ve grown and your clothes are too small, and go shopping.”

  I reached up to adjust my bra. Was I spilling out of it again?

  Anali raised an eyebrow and took a sip of tea.

  I sighed. “Okay, we can go shopping.”

  “Wonderful. I was looking in the guide book the hotel provided, and Knightsbridge isn’t far. It has a lot of stores, including Harrods and Harvey Nichols, which are department stores. We also need to get you several formal outfits,” Anali said stirring her yogurt and muesli.

  “What, why? And what do you mean by formal?” Images of lacy frills and pinching shoes filled my mind.

  “Well,” Anali said, “Gavin received an invitation to a charity gala, your birthday is coming up, and my cousin is getting married while we are here.”

  “Oh. But why do I need something fancy to wear on my birthday?”

  “Miu is making plans,” Anali said.

  I hoped that Anali was helping with those plans. I guess, I could, in theory, find a nice outfit and wear it to all the different events, right? Then I wouldn’t need more than one uncomfortable outfit. I bit into the scone—it tasted like a lemon meringue pie only better.

  “My cousin is having a traditional Indian wedding, and I was wondering if you wanted to wear a sari,” Anali asked. “Most of the women there will be wearing one.”

  My forehead crinkled. Anali always looked so elegant when she wore a sari. I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. I certainly didn’t feel elegant. “The saris you wear are very pretty, and they look more comfortable than a lot of dresses. At least there won’t be any ruffles.”

  “Okay, we’ll find a sari shop, and I am sure we can find several dressy outfits for you without any ruffles.”

  We stood in front of the hotel while the doorman got us a cab. The air felt cold and the gray sky threatened rain. Fro
wning, I wrapped my scarf around my neck.

  Anali bumped me with her shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I never get you all to myself. And I promise we’ll only buy things you like and that look good on you.”

  I smiled. “It does sound like a lot of fun. And I do need new clothes,” I admitted as we got into the cab.

  I kept my eyes closed while Anali talked about all the clothes I needed. Riding on the left side of the road freaked me out.

  “Here we are, ladies,” the cabbie said. I strained to understand his accent, a mix of cockney and Turkish.

  Anali paid him, and we scooted out of the cab. Our shoes squeaked on the damp cobblestones. Red brick buildings loomed above us with the bottom floors trimmed in bright white paint obscured by the fog.

  “Where do we start?”

  Anali smiled and linked our arms together. “Let’s start walking and see what catches our eye.”

  A lot caught Anali’s eye, and soon I had bags from several stores with jeans, blouses, sweaters, and even a denim skirt.

  “Oh, perfect.” Anali grabbed my hand, jostling the bags I carried, and pulled me towards a bright pink shop. In the windows hung bras, panties, and lacy things that didn’t look practical or comfortable at all.

  “Why are we both going in there? I can wait out here.”

  Anali stopped and turned to look at me, her light brown eyes warm. “Sapphire, you’re almost sixteen now, a young woman, and it’s time you had beautiful things. When I was your age my mom took me shopping for adult clothes like this.” Anali bit her lip. “Not that I’m your mom, or trying to be your mom.”

  I grabbed Anali’s hand. “I know. It’s fine. I guess I could look inside.”

  She smiled and began walking again. “You’re a beautiful young woman, and while no boy should be seeing your underwear, you should feel sexy while wearing it.”