15. Fifteen

Fifteen

Cyrus dropped a heavy leather bag onto the back of Max’s chopper and began tightening the straps. She nodded at him. A dozen motorcycles lined the street in formation behind her.

“I’m sorry about all of this.” I grasped my elbow awkwardly and watched the remaining Grays pack up their lives into bags that could fit onto their bikes. It was mostly weapons.

“Don’t be.” Max started her bike, and the deep rumble pulsed through my chest. “If you all weren’t here, we probably would have ended up like those other compounds Sebastian has visited. Another ended bloodline.”

Shael eyed the gathered hunters. “Cyrus didn’t think this would work, but the Grays really came around.”

Max raised an eyebrow.

Shael tilted his head. “Well, most of them.” He elbowed me. “Do you think your father could ever—”

“No,” Max snapped.

Shael flinched, and I reached out to take his hand.

“You always see the best in everybody, it’s one thing I love about you,” I said. “But he’s not like us.”

“He cares about nothing but his family’s power and the Order’s mission.” Max pulled on her helmet and mounted her bike. The other Grays followed suit. “He’d rather shove a blade in his eye than speak to an otherworlder he wasn’t actively trying to kill.”

Shael winced and turned to leave. “I’m getting the picture.”

Felix jogged up to us and took in our faces. “Everything all right?”

I nodded. “Peachy.”

“Right,” Felix said. “Well, everyone’s ready to go.” He pointed to Cyrus already behind the wheel of the SUV with an impatient look on his face. I half-expected him to honk the horn.

I hopped into the SUV, climbing into the very back with Felix. We’d drive until we reached the old Arden compound. The Gray compound wasn’t safe, but no one would expect us to go to the Arden compound. Sabrina had said that it hadn’t been occupied since the events at Emerald Lake. Where Sebastian had killed the entire family at their camp. Sebastian wouldn’t bother going to a compound of a family he’d already wiped out.

Cyrus pulled out first, leading the unlikely caravan of Aegis guardians and uprooted hunters.

Shael pressed his back to the door so he could face everyone. “Let’s play a game.”

Skye groaned. “Quillon always cheats at I Spy.”

“Let’s sing 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall!” Shael exclaimed. “I’ll start.”

I sighed and buried my face in Felix’s chest. His arms automatically wrapped around me. This was going to be a long car ride.

No wonder Cyrus always teleported everywhere.

I trudged through the thick blanket of snow that covered the Oregon forest. Snow came to my knees, soaking through my leggings. Ari appeared soundlessly beside me. The others had parked down the road. Ari and I were the only ones who could teleport away quickly if anything was wrong, so naturally I volunteered us to be the scouting party.

A tall stone wall surrounded the compound. My mother used to always say nothing unified hunters more than their love for impenetrable walls. Having visited more compounds in the last couple of months than a typical hunter did in their entire life, I had to agree.

I hadn’t been to the Arden compound before. Not since I was born, anyway. My father didn’t want me getting close to my other family. I was a Morgan. Not an Arden.

As I approached the gate, warmth bloomed in my chest. I rubbed my palm over my ribs. That was weird.

The gate was slightly ajar. I pressed against it, throwing all my weight until it cracked open enough for me to slip through. Ari followed, somehow making it through the same small space.

The compound was eerily quiet, with no signs of life. Everything was covered in a thick layer of snow. Only the tops of fenceposts were visible delineating the training yard and what must have been the garden. The great hall loomed ahead. Icicles dripped from the angled roof and snow clung to the stone brick. It looked like a frozen castle from a dark fairytale.

The church appeared to be in the worst condition. The old roof had collapsed under the weight of the snow, and the door had been left open.

Pressure built in my lungs as I neared the great hall. I braced myself on the banister as I climbed the steps.

Are you alright?

“I ...” I coughed, unable to squeeze enough air into my chest “...don’t ... know.”

We should leave.

I shook my head and staggered to the door. Black-clad arms wrapped around me, holding me steady. Ari reached out and opened the door.

The great hall was cold and dark with a musty smell of stagnant air. Ari kicked the door closed behind us.

All hunter great halls had a similar vibe. This one was no different. A large table sat centered in the main room, lined on either side with dozens of chairs.

The ball of energy built in my chest. It urged me forward, like it was being pulled by an invisible force. Ari let me take the lead. He held me as I wobbled towards the cold hearth. The last rays of sunset illuminated a hatch tucked in the corner of the room. The invisible force pulled me to it. I grabbed the ring and tugged. It opened in a shower of dust, revealing a steep staircase descending into darkness.

“What the hell?” I peered down, but I couldn’t make anything out.

Come .

I started at the new voice in my head. I hadn’t heard it in months. Not since the day before the battle for the Draqaari well.

“Enoch?”

Come.

My magic gathered in my chest, pulling me and threatening to explode through my ribs. He’d been here all along?

Arsyn. Ari’s voice joined Enoch’s, still echoing in my mind. We should wait for the others.

I clenched my teeth against the growing pain as tears pricked my eyes. “I don’t think he’s going to let me.”

Come . Enoch’s voice rang through my body like a church bell.

I pushed mana into my masking rune until golden light burst from my forearm. Not the most efficient flashlight, but it would have to do. I placed my boot on the first step. The old wood groaned under my weight, but it didn’t collapse. I took another step.

My light illuminated more of the basement as I descended. Or rather, it illuminated the dungeon. Shackles hung from the ceiling and iron cages lined one wall. I ran a finger over the rusting metal and gasped.

How did the Ardens know about bloodforged iron?

Ari struck a spark, and a torch flared to life. He pulled it from its holder and held it aloft. A desk seemed out of place here, in the center of the room. Faded documents covered the surface.

I staggered forward, propping myself on the desk as my knees buckled. I braced myself there.

The gleaming crest on a heavy tome caught the flickering torchlight: a lion roaring. The Morgan crest. What was a book from the Morgan compound doing here?

Pain lanced through my skull.

I read in golden letters: Constance Morgan.

I’d learned about her growing up. She was the ancestor who spoke to the angels and received the Morgan gift. Our ability to siphon mana through touch began with her .

I reached for the book, grasping the embossed leather cover. I flipped through the yellowed pages.

I skipped through the first few pages singing the praises of the Morgan clan until I got to some entries in the kind of beautiful cursive only someone from the far past could produce. It seemed to be Constance’s journal.

Ari’s presence was steady over my shoulder as I frantically scanned the lines.

The first entries were ... deranged. She sounded crazy.

“I’ve resolved to capture an angel,” I read aloud. “They selfishly hoard the power we need to carry out God’s will and purge this world of magic.” Another entry in the summer of 1730. “I set fire to a town in the valley. The souls finally drew him to us.” My stomach churned. To a hunter, killing otherworlders was one thing, but this sounded like she killed humans. “He told me his name. Benoi.”

The stagnant air in the cellar stirred.

My brother, a new voice said in my mind. I nearly dropped the book.

I’d heard this voice before. Enoch.

“Benoi was a reaper?” My headache built with the pressure in my chest. “Constance believed he was an angel. So, the hunters did get their magic from reapers.”

Yes.

Something told me there was more. I read on.

“I’ve devised a trap using our blacksmith’s discovery, forging iron with our blood. If the angel will not give us his gift willingly, then we will take it. A necessary evil to purge God’s Earth of the devil’s magic.”

The following pages included diagrams of a cage. Special traps and a list of sacrifices Constance attempted to lure the reaper in. My stomach roiled as I read the final lines.

“God appeared to us centuries ago and showed us the path. He sacrificed one of his angels so that we may do his bidding. This is His will. And it will be done.”

For all these years we’d been told the Morgans were chosen by the angels to receive another gift. We were told our power was a gift. But it was stolen.

The world spun. “We’re the reason the Aether’s dying. Hunters killed the reapers.”

We’re not dead, Enoch said in my mind. We can’t die. We’re starved of mana, but merely slumbering.

“Not much better.”

I dropped the book on the desk and peered further into the darkness. My breath hitched. In a large cage, a thin figure lay shrouded in darkness.

Enoch.

“How’d you end up … slumbering, anyway?”

The Ardens were ambitious. They tried to follow Constance’s notes. But I refused them my gift no matter what they did to me. Until one night when a young woman came to my cell. I recognized the soul that she carried. I never expected that soul to be reborn, but I knew it would be worthy of my gift. So, I did what I swore I would never do . His voice faded away. In the silence, my breathing sounded loud to my ears.

When his voice returned, it was weaker. Quieter.

I gave my gift to a mortal. I gave my gift to you.

I stared at Enoch’s shadowed form. “You’re the otherworlder my mother visited who healed me.” Of course. How did I not put it together sooner? “You’re the reason I can sense auras and absorb mana without touch.”

Ari stepped farther into the cellar, lighting more of it with his torch. I tentatively followed. The flickering light illuminated another cage at the end of the room. I touched the bars. My barriers slammed closed, dampening my magic, and I quickly pulled my hand away. More bloodforged iron.

Ari lifted his torch. Enoch lay in the dirt. Shackles encircled his wrists and ankles. Chains wrapped around his body. A tattered black robe hung from his thin frame. Clumps of silver hair clung to his scalp. Just as I’d seen him in Felix’s vision all those months ago.

My blood pumped painfully in my ears. Corruption rose in my belly. It warred with the buzzing mana in my veins. I clenched my fists.

I needed to restore Enoch. He would fix everything.

Sensing my desperation, Ari secured the torch in a sconce on the wall and pulled out his lockpicking kit.

I shifted from foot to foot and wrung my hands while he worked. My head pounded and my body buzzed with awoken corruption and aggravated mana.

“It’s all our fault.” I bit my nails and began to pace. All this time I’d been searching for a solution to the mana drought, and my own family was the cause.

The cage door groaned open. Rust fell from the hinges. Ari picked up the torch, but he didn’t go in. He was waiting for me.

I took a deep breath and stepped inside. It wasn’t a big space. Only big enough for Enoch to lie in. His cheeks were sunken, and his lips shriveled. He looked dead. How the hell was I supposed to fix him?

“Enoch?” I said as I crouched beside him. “You there?”

He didn’t reply. Maybe he’d used all his energy speaking to me. Shit. What was I supposed to do? I glanced down at my hands. I supposed giving him mana would be a good place to start.

“We have to get this off him.” I started pulling at his bloodforged iron chains. Ari began picking the locks on Enoch’s shackles. Enoch was still as we worked. He looked dead.

With the chains in a pile on the floor, I reached out and grasped Enoch’s hands, folded over his chest. A pulse of pure power burst from our joined hands. It shook the air. Enoch’s eyes flew open, and blinding white light filled the room.