Born of Embers Read online

  Holding my breath, I crept past the kitchen, aware of the mess still covering the floor, and made it past the couch and the sleeping nightmare lying on it. Setting down my suitcase, I opened the door just wide enough to fit myself and my luggage through before locking the door and clicking it shut quietly behind me. I didn’t wait to see if he heard me, knowing the next few minutes would be the difference between finding the freedom I needed or a future I refused to contemplate. Instead, I hoisted my bags up and made my way to my old blue bike sitting along the side of the house. Quickly slipping my shoes on, I pulled my backpack over my shoulders and secured my suitcase to the small metal rail behind the seat, taking the extra time to tie it to the bike so I wouldn’t lose it along the way. Straddling the bike, I hopped onto the seat and prepared myself for the long trek ahead of me. In my weakened state it would be difficult, but once I made it through this last harrowing part of the evening, I would be free.

  Pedaling my heart out, I made my way across town. My legs ached and my entire body protested the exercise, not yet ready to work that hard after having just died. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself farther. After an agonizing time, I was untying my suitcase and trying to stand on legs made of Jell-O as I walked the bike towards the bus stop in front of me. Leaning the bike against a lamppost, I pulled a note from my bag that I had written earlier and attached it to the basket in front of the handlebars. It read “Free to someone who needs it.” I didn’t want any loose ends left in Orlando and this bike was the only thing I owned that I couldn’t afford to bring across the country with me. I knew it would be claimed in minutes. I ran my hand across the cool metal of the curved handles. This bike had meant so much to me and I found it hard to part with. It had symbolized freedom, a means of transportation that helped me escape whatever horrible home situation I was in. With a shuddering breath I turned my back on the bike, on this city, on all of the terrible memories that plagued me, and boarded the bus when it squealed to a stop. My body relaxed into the uncomfortable bench seat, happy to be done with physical exercise for the day. Out of the window, I saw the lights of the city streak by as I thought about the precious few things that I would miss. The bike, the library, a few co-workers, and the chef at the restaurant I had worked at who had taken me under his tutelage. It was just enough to keep me from feeling completely cold about leaving.

  Twenty minutes later I was standing outside the airport, glancing around to make sure I hadn’t been followed by anyone. Walking through the turnstile glass doors, I tried to hold back the well of grateful tears that pressed behind my eyes. I had made it this far and I was almost in the air, on my way across the country.

  I rolled my shoulders and composed myself, fighting for my grit and steel as I walked to the ticket counter. Even at this time of night, the Orlando airport was full of people and I had to wait in line to get my boarding pass. Using my bags as a shield, I made sure I had enough personal space that I wouldn’t get jostled by the groups ahead of me or behind me. Years of abuse had left me with deep-seated scars of the emotional variety. Physical touch and quick movements were hard for me to handle and I did my best to avoid them. Even this late at night, the large crowd of people pushing past me was enough to set my teeth on edge as I tried to see everything at once. I pulled my wallet out of my backpack when I was next in line and then confidently walked to the woman wearing a red uniform and manning the computer at the check-in desk. After handing her my driver’s license she confirmed my travel plans.

  “One way ticket to Anchorage, Alaska with a layover in Seattle, Washington?” She asked, with an arched eyebrow.

  “That’s correct,” I nodded as she checked my suitcase and printed my ticket.

  “Not planning on coming back, are you?”

  “No. Never.” With those two words and the boarding pass in hand, I headed to freedom.

  Two

  Nix

  The white noise of the airliner had lulled me to sleep and I was jolted awake by the overhead dinging that sounded throughout the cabin. The seats were cramped and I was glad I hadn’t slumped over into the person sitting next to me. I didn’t want to touch anyone and I had made sure to scoot myself as far into the window as possible. Both plane rides had gone smoothly and I had slept the entire six and a half hours of the first one, having just enough of a layover to use the bathroom and grab a pretzel before I had had to board the second plane.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are making excellent time and will be descending into Anchorage in approximately half an hour. Please heed the seatbelt signs as we will be arriving shortly, thank you.” The captain’s disembodied voice crackled through the speakers in the cabin.

  I wiped the sleep from my face and turned to look out of the rounded window next to me. The clouds were wisps of fluffy fog that settled over the high peaks of the mountains; the majestic snow-topped domes jutting through the sea of white. I had never seen anything that was so beautiful or made me feel so small before. My fingertips pressed against the cool window pane as I stared.

  A jostling on my left pulled me from my reverie as a leg brushed against my thigh and I stiffened, my eyes shifting to the woman next to me. I breathed out a sigh, she was just trying to change positions in the uncomfortable seat as she slept, her head lolling on her blue neck pillow.

  Turning away, I reached for my bag, which was shoved as far as I could get it under the seat in front of me. The cuts on my hands and legs stung and my muscles ached from overexerting my new body too quickly after rebirth. Reaching into my bag I grabbed a small bottle of painkillers and some filtered water that I had purchased at the airport, and took two of the small, round pills. Replacing the items, I pulled out the brochure for the University of Alaska, Anchorage and read through the crumpled pages yet again. I had read through it at least twenty times as I dreamed about being as happy as the smiling students displayed throughout its pages. I wondered if true happiness would ever be in the cards for me, but I knew that making this place my new home was a start.

  Half an hour later the plane was lowering to the ground, it’s wheels touching down as I braced myself on the seat in front of me to keep myself steady. When we rolled up to the gate, I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my lips as I sat in that cramped seat and waited to disembark. In my excitement, I stood with the other travelers and shuffled out into the aisle with my bag. A man bumped into my back, sending me flying forward into the woman who had been asleep next to me during the flight.

  Panic welled in my chest and I quickly hardened my expression as I turned toward the man who had started the domino effect. I would rather get angry, sassy, or sarcastic than allow my panic to show. They weren’t my best qualities, but they were coping mechanisms and had been ingrained by years of habit.

  “Hello! It’s called personal space. If you’re in that much of a hurry, please, be my guest.” My face and tone clearly expressed sarcasm as I stepped into an already vacated row and waved him ahead of me. He gave me a sheepish look as he hurried by and I felt marginally bad about my attitude, but it took all of my focus to calm my racing heart. You’re safe. No one’s after you. You’re free. I repeated my mantra in my head.

  Hugging my arms around my middle, I decided to wait until the other passengers had left the plane before walking down the aisle myself again. Still trying to calm my nerves, I headed down the jetway well behind all of the other people. Entering the airport, I swung my bag over my shoulders and navigated to baggage claim. I hated to admit that one of my fears was that my bag wouldn’t have made it to Anchorage with me. Having to turn it over to the airline in Orlando had caused me a minor panic attack. I mean, that was everything I had in the world. Granted, most of it was secondhand clothing from thrift stores, but one man's trash is another man's—or in this case—woman’s, treasure, right?

  As I waited at baggage claim for the luggage to start appearing on the rotating belt, I turned my phone on and watched as the time updated. It was a little surreal
to see the time go backwards. I felt like a time traveler and I laughed quietly to myself at my stupid thoughts. Between being alone or wishing I was alone for nearly all of my life, I had long since learned to love my own company. Hell, one of my favorite quotes was the one that said “Learn to enjoy your own company. You are the one person you can count on living with for the rest of your life.” It was my truth.

  As the belt started to turn and mainly black suitcases were tossed onto it, I loaded the Uber app and entered the information needed to hail a ride. Turning my attention back to the arriving luggage, I waited for my deep purple suitcase to appear. It had been a lucky find in one of the thrift stores and I was thrilled to have it. Once I spotted it, I waited for the carousel to bring it to a sparsely populated section of the belt and grabbed it quickly. Bags in hand, I turned and looked around as I made my way slowly toward the exit. A grin spread on my lips as I saw a glass case displaying a taxidermied brown bear. You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. I couldn’t keep the smile from my face.

  Deciding enough time had passed and not wanting to miss my Uber, I left the airport and walked outside. The chill in the air had me wrapping my lightweight jacket tighter around myself. I knew it would take time for my body to adjust to these temperatures, but the mild clothing I wore—which would have seen me through an Orlando winter easily—was just barely enough to cover the mid-August weather in Anchorage. Although classes wouldn’t begin for another week, I had figured it would make more sense to take an early flight and buy additional clothing once I was settled in Alaska. Not only had I saved the insane fees required to ship a small wardrobe across the country, but the options available in an Orlando summer were definitely not going to prepare me for an Alaskan fall or winter.

  Though the chill in the air reminded me of the upcoming shopping I would need to do on a tight budget, it also reminded me of how far I was from the hot, humid weather of the town I had escaped. The Alaskan air was fresh and clean and smelled like second chances. Breathing it in deeply, I waited for my ride.

  Three

  Killian

  I cursed under my breath as my damn phone beeped yet again. Why had I listened when the guys had encouraged me to get this stupid fucking job with Uber? I had known better than to tell them I was bored before the start of our sophomore term at UAA, but that’s exactly what I was, completely and utterly bored. Finally tired of my bitching, the Aussie had thrown down the gauntlet—stop bitching or look for a job. I had thought I was being smart doing this stupid Uber gig. The hours were flexible, the pay half-decent, and as the service had just begun to be offered in our area I hadn’t thought it would catch on. I had been extremely wrong. I had signed up as a driver two months ago and my phone was buzzing almost non-stop each shift. Mostly, I hauled around tourists wanting to see the sights and always asking me if I thought we’d run into any grizzly bears. Fucking idiots. I simply pasted on a blank expression and tried my best to ignore them.

  My Puca, on the other hand, was having a ball in this gig. He didn’t understand why I wouldn’t give in and mess with the tourists the way he wanted me to do so badly. Throw out a few illusions of avalanches, polar bears, yetis—anything to break up the tedium for him. Although my Puca was part of me, he also had traits specific to him. Whereas I could be described as taciturn (my friends would most likely call me a moody asshole), my Puca lived for fun, especially if that fun was in the form of mischief: pranks, illusions, or other magical trickery that emphasized his skills. He was the reason I had ended up in Alaska at the age of ten. Due to the strength of my powers, my family had made the choice to send me from our home in Scotland to be raised by our rulers—the Council. As the most powerful shifters, my family felt that they would be the most qualified to help me learn to control my illusions and teach me to completely harness my psychic visions. I couldn’t contain the growl that slipped past my throat. To say my psychic abilities, or current lack thereof, were a source of contention between my Puca and I would be an understatement. While I had much better control over my alternate side, I was still working on strengthening my powers. I’d had two strong visions in my childhood but nothing solid since. My Puca didn’t seem to care that our psychic skills weren’t improving. He was all too happy to rely on the powers that he considered the most useful—and the most fun—like his illusions. Admittedly, we had gotten pretty damn good at those.

  Exhaling the tension from my body, I hit the notification button on my phone, letting the app know I was on my way to the airport. I unfolded myself from the chair I had been lounging in, doing my best to stretch the kinks from my spine as I strode down the hallway. Most of the other residents were quick to get out of my way. I had been helping my friend Hiro move into his dorm room for his position as a resident advisor. I supposed I appeared a little intimidating, especially to the freshman of the campus. At six feet four inches tall, my body was rock solid due to the daily martial arts training I put myself through. I refused to be the weak link in my group. My Puca hissed at me, insulted by my train of thought. He never liked the idea that I thought of him as weak due to his size. It only made him edgier, more aggressive, and bolstered the idea of him showing off his powers to other students and the frequent tourists. With an act of will and habit I held him firmly in place as I brushed my hair out of my eyes and fastened my seatbelt in my car.

  A Prius would not cut it in Anchorage winters. Hell, there were times even my Hummer couldn’t make it through the streets. I did a fast check of my mirrors, ignoring the russet red hair and emerald eyes of my reflection as I did the basic safety checks. Peeling out of my spot, I headed toward the airport to pick up my waiting fare. Since she was also headed back to the campus, it was a safe assumption that she was a student, here early to get the lay of the land before the semester. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was a freshman or an experienced student. Many students loved the idea of an Alaskan winter before they were actually subjected to one. We had quite a few people drop out over the holidays, if they even managed to make it that far. I shrugged to myself as I ran the heater. At ten in the morning it was still only in the mid-40s. While I was quite comfortable, I had quickly realized that the people I ferried around preferred a pre-warmed car when I picked them up.

  Damn it, I would be so happy when classes began next week and I could stop this stupid fucking job. If only that fucking Aussie hadn’t opened his big mouth, hadn’t told me that there was no way I would be willing to do this, despite knowing our team could use the extra money I would bring in. Then the freaking fox had to add his opinion, reminding me of how much I had hated flipping burgers or trying to work in the enrollment office. Yeah, neither of those experiences had gone very well. I did not handle fools well and unfortunately I found myself surrounded by them. When an idiot I had been trying to serve when I worked at the local diner had asked, for the fourth time, what was in our taco salad only to order it and send it back with the complaint that it contained meat—which I had already informed him of four fucking times—and he couldn’t eat it because he was a vegetarian, I had lost it and poured the tray of drinks I had been holding directly over the moron’s head.

  My days as an office worker hadn’t gone much better. Already driven crazy by the tedium of filing the same papers over and over again throughout the day, I had finally blown up on the mother of a prospective student who would not stop calling us. She hadn’t understood why we didn’t keep rooms available for parents to stay in when they chose to visit or why I couldn’t speak to her about the choices her son had made in regards to his classes or his roommate. I had asked her, in my most deadpan voice, if she would be needing a breastfeeding station prepared for her visitations as well. Although the Dean of Admissions had not expelled me—secretly, I thought he had quite enjoyed the story by the way his mustache had twisted each time he tried to speak—I had been placed on academic probation and forbidden from working at any campus location from that point on.

  The Council hadn’t seemed much happier
with me. While they encouraged all of the local shifters to attend college and get a more advanced education, they were emphatic that we stayed under the radar as much as possible. The last thing they wanted was having anyone pay too much attention to a shifter and risking the discovery of our supernatural community or, even worse, our kind. While they themselves didn’t suffer fools easily, the old bores saw everything new or different as a risk that would jeopardize our world. Ridiculous, in my personal opinion. The world wasn’t the same as it had been in the Dark Ages. While there were fewer shifters than humans overall, our numbers were still quite massive. Between our numbers and our powers, the chances of any war being deeply damaging were minimal—not that I advocated a war, despite what my Puca may think.