Yield the Night (33 page)

Soon, the light was disappearing as night approached. Shouldn’t she be there by now? It felt like she’d been walking forever.

To her right, the dark silhouette of a large, rocky hill rose above the trees. She pushed her way into the forest, ignoring the slap of branches against her bare upper arms and midriff. The dragon-scale halter top she still wore didn’t offer a ton of coverage, but the summer evening was warm. Her legs ached as she started the climb. She trudged upward until she reached the crest. Breathing hard, she looked across the landscape ahead of her.

She could see the city—and it was on fire.

A red glow lit the sky. The metropolis—scattered lights and silhouettes of downtown skyscrapers—stretched across the horizon. Even from that distance, discernible flames leaped skyward from a huge fire that was at least a city block long. Orange-tinted smoke billowed into the darkening sky. Half a dozen smaller fires, scattered among the lights, marred the view.

Staring, she pressed a hand to her mouth. The city was burning. Why? Why was it on fire? She slowly lowered her hand. Who did she know who liked burning buildings to the ground? Who had violent plans to enact their vision of the future?

Had the Gaians started some kind of battle with the daemons in the city? She’d seen what magic in a battle could do. Haemons might not have the firepower that daemons did, but if they’d brought technology and modern weapons to the fight, the results could be catastrophic.

They had to be stopped. The city was going to burn to the ground if they kept this up. The Gaians didn’t understand what they were getting into. Their experiences with daemons were limited to small skirmishes with the thugs and mercenaries that inhabited the city’s darker quarters. They’d never seen what a daemon trained for battle could do.

Gritting her teeth, she half-ran back down the hill to the road. Picking up the pace into the fastest walk that she could maintain, she strode through the shadows. Her lungs and legs burned. Darkness gradually fell, the sky growing darker and darker until the horizon glowed the faintest blue of twilight. She lit an orb of flickering blue light but couldn’t figure out how to make it hover in the air like daemons did, so she carried it on her palm. She was so focused on the treacherous road that she almost missed it.

She stopped and backed up a couple of steps, staring down the dark gravel drive, almost invisible amidst the trees. Exhaling, she started down the road. She’d walked it countless times before, every day to and from school. The path was so familiar she could have walked it without any light at all.

Her heart rate picked up as the trees thinned, and then she was standing on the curving driveway staring at the remains of her home.

Only one corner of the building still stood. The sight of the destroyed Consulate made it feel as though the entire system had died with the building. The Gaians’ claims that the Consuls were powerless, that she’d dedicated herself to a critically flawed system, whispered through her, beating at her, wearing her down.

The manor looked like her future: burnt, crumbling, a few charred pieces stubbornly standing despite the surrounding devastation. The Consulates had rejected her. She’d rejected the Gaians. What did that leave her? What was she supposed to do with herself?

She closed her eyes. Ash had been asking himself those same questions since escaping Asphodel. His future was just as uncertain as hers.

Her eyes opened again. She would worry about the future later. Tonight, she would start looking for Lyre and Seiya in the city. But first she needed weaponry to supplement her burgeoning magic skills and the Sahar—and she hoped to find some here.

Burying her roiling emotions, she circled the remains of the Consulate until she was standing in front of the last vertical section, the southwest corner. The rain on the night of the attack must have put out the fire before it could devour everything. Climbing over the charred wood in the kitchen, she slipped into the cracked, sagging hallway. She glanced warily at the ceiling, remembering how the other hall had caved in just after she’d escaped it. Passing the infirmary, she tried to open the door to the sparring room. It was stuck. Tossing her light orb aside, she shoved the door with her hands, then slammed it with a shoulder. The wood cracked and the door swung open on one hinge.

She glanced back. Her light orb was hanging in the air, flickering sedately. Huh. So that’s how she was supposed to do it. Calling up another one—purple this time, because why not—she tossed it into the sparring room.

The far side had collapsed when most of the upper floor had come down. She remembered that quite vividly, having been up there when it had happened. But the nearer side of the room was untouched. The wall was lined with weapons of all kinds, from swords to crossbows to bokken.

It took several minutes to load up. A belt around her waist held a long and short sword, one on each side. Long daggers were strapped to her thighs, throwing knives bound to her upper arms. She’d even smashed the cabinet in the corner and had helped herself to two handguns and extra ammo, attaching those to the back of her belt.

Yes, she could use magic now, but she’d learned how to survive without it her entire life, so she wouldn’t be tossing her training out the window just yet. Magic was great and all, but punching someone was just so satisfying.

Armed and pleased about it, she climbed over the broken door and headed back down the hall. As she stepped into the scorched kitchen, she froze at the loud crunch of breaking wood from the east side of the building. Tensing, she pulled a gun from her belt and held it in both hands. Creeping to the edge of a broken wall, she peeked around the corner at the crumbled debris of the east end of the building.

For a second, she couldn’t see anything. Then a shadow moved—someone digging through the debris. Another crunch as the figure, a solidly built man, heaved a two-by-four out of the way. Fury seared her. Who was this vagrant looting the Consulate’s remains? Jaw clenched, she stepped out from behind the wall and leveled her gun at the man twenty paces away.

“Stop right there or I’ll shoot!” she yelled.

The man stilled.

“Stand up,” she ordered.

He clambered to his feet and turned to face her, hands held up in the air, no more than a silhouette in the darkness. Her eyes narrowed. Keeping the gun steady in one hand, she lifted the other and called up a blue orb of light. She threw it into the empty space between them.

Light fell across his face, illuminating a bald head and one eye wide with shock. He stared at her as though he were seeing a ghost.

Her fingers went numb and she nearly dropped the gun. Swallowing hard, she struggled to find her voice.

He spoke first in a dazed croak. “Piper?”

She drew in a shuddering breath. “F-father? What—what are you—”

Quinn surged into motion, striding across the debris as if it wasn’t even there. She tensed at his fast approach, but he reached out and grabbed her before she could react. He pulled her into a suffocating embrace.

“I thought you were dead,” he said roughly. “How are you not dead?”

“I—” She hesitantly wrapped her arms around him, the gun still in one hand. “I made it out after the attack. I wasn’t hurt.”

He stepped back, holding her shoulders as he stared at her. “Where have you been?”

“Um, it’s a long story.”

His mouth opened, disbelief still etched across his face, but she jumped in before he could ask for a real explanation.

“Did you see the city? It’s on fire. What happened?”

He visibly pulled himself together, sealing away his shock at finding her alive. “Multiple attacks on daemon establishments. The same group that’s been taking out Consulates. Daemons quickly started grouping together to defend themselves, and the fires are the result.”

“That group,” she said quickly. “Do you know they’re—”

“The Gaians, yes. We discovered that shortly after the attack here. We’ve yet to learn what their plans are, but—”

“I can tell you that,” she interrupted grimly. “I know part of their strategies, what their goals are, and how they plan to make it happen. We’re in big trouble.” She looked toward the unseen city, then back to him, frowning. “Why are you here? The Consuls need to stop the fighting, Gaians or not. That’s our—your—job.”

His face hardened. “Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “I was relieved of my position four days ago.”

“
What?
You—you’re not Head Consul anymore?” Impossible. Her father was the Head Consul. It was a fact as solid and unchanging to her as the sun rising in the east.

“I was deemed incapable of leadership,” he said flatly.

“Why?” she demanded, hand tightening on the gun before she realized what she was doing. She quickly stuck it back in the holster.

“It was an excuse to remove me.” His voice took on a mocking note. “In light of the destruction of my Consulate, the tragic death of my daughter, and my ex-wife’s role in the attacks, my unwillingness to use lethal force against the Gaians was construed as a sign of my inability to effectively lead in this difficult time.”

Her head spun. The bedrock her entire life had been built on was crumbling beneath her feet. She hadn’t realized how much her father’s position had been tied to her own identity until it was gone.

“But ...” She didn’t even know what to ask next. “What now?”

He took her elbow, his calloused fingers tight. “We try to salvage whatever we can before it’s too late.”

She nodded. The rest of her questions could wait. He pulled her into motion, leading her out of the ruins of their home. She may have lost her apprenticeship months ago, but like her father, her commitment to the core principles of a Consul hadn’t wavered. It was their job to keep the peace, and they would do whatever it took to make that happen.

To be continued in

Book 4 of the Steel & Stone series:

REAP THE SHADOWS

Don’t miss REAP THE SHADOWS, coming Fall 2015!

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you for reading
Yield the Night
! I hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you to Breanna, for your ceaseless support, encouragement, and sympathy. I can always count on you to cheer me up when I feel like the book is getting the better of me.

Thank you to Elizabeth, for being the perfect editor for me. We’re so much on the same vibe now that we might as well share a brain. Okay, maybe not, but close.

Thank you to Valerie and Karen, for dropping everything (or close to it) to rescue me in the final hours of publication. Your feedback was invaluable.

Lastly, thank you to my fiancé. I’m so lucky, and grateful, that we get to undertake this journey together. I may have already mentioned it, but did you know you’re the best?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Annette Marie lives in Western Canada with her fiancé. Someday she’d like to get a cat. Maybe two.