Stone of Ascension (20 page)

“Where are we?” Her words echoed in the sparse room even though she had taken care to speak them softly. She turned in a circle to verify that they were alone before she straightened to her full height and let the knife drop back into the coat pocket.

“I don’t know,” Damian answered, his voice deep and throaty as he surveyed their surroundings. “I’ve never seen this place before.”

Amber took in the dark red carpeting and the deep rose wood that covered the walls, leaving a vague sense of being trapped inside a wine barrel. The circular formation of the room picked off her newfound respect for the seemingly unobtrusive geometric shape.

“Can you port us out of here?”

Damian closed his eyes, and she waited a beat before he gave a quick shake of his head. “No. The casted circle won’t allow it.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “But it doesn’t give off a malevolent vibe.”

Amber arched her brow in question.

“As you become more attuned to the energy, you can pick up its vibrations,” he explained. “All energy has a feel based on how it is used with every connotation having its own rhythm.”

“Like the energy has feelings?”

“Kind of. It picks up and retains the intent of the user. Just like an engine retains the heat after it’s been turned off, the energy holds the signature of purpose.”

“And the energy of the circle we’re in is good?” She let the hope show in her voice.

He stroked a hand over his jaw in thought. “It’s more like ambivalent.”

“Well, that’s better than evil,” Amber said before exhaling a deep breath. She moved away from Damian and took a closer look at the room, every instinct still on high alert.

The circular room was void of windows, but large enough to keep it from feeling like a cell. The space was broken only by a single bed that sat low to the ground on a black, wooden frame and a small side table that sat next to it. The low light in the room was coming from the lamp on the table and the crack beneath one of the two doors in the room. The deep purple duvet was pulled neat and crisp over the bed and accented with an arrangement of black and cream pillows decorated with variations of Chinese themes.

She turned her focus back to Damian. The wound on his shoulder was still bloody, crisp and painful looking. He was a little pale, but considering he had been basically passed out and unconscious just a few minutes ago, he looked remarkably good. The relief that flooded her was more than just the basic thankfulness that he’d be okay. She was smart enough to recognize just how attached she was becoming to him. The thought of losing him went far deeper than the simple fear of losing the man who offered her protection.

“How are you feeling?”

His features tightened before he paused in his own surveillance of the room to look down at his shoulder. He shifted the injured shoulder around, wincing slightly before he stopped the movement.

“Better,” he finally answered. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Thanks to you.”

“Yeah,” she scoffed. “Thanks to me, you were injured in the first place.”

“No. Thanks to you I’m up and walking already.” The firm timbre of his voice negated her instant surge of denial. “It was your power, the energy you pulled in at the tower that infused me and accelerated the healing.”

She shook her head, clenched her lips and looked away. “I don’t understand.” She blinked back the stinging that sparked and burned in her eyes. “I’m sick of not understanding.”

Damn it. She would not cry now. Not in front of him. Inhaling through her nose, she forced her muscles to relax with the slow exhale. With effort, she returned her gaze to meet his. The concern she saw there almost undid her. Almost. Because it couldn’t be real.

“You’ve been through a lot today.” He lifted his hand to brush her hair off her shoulder so it rested down her back. “You’ve faced every obstacle thrown at you, every wild truth despite their impossibilities, and you didn’t crumble or cower from them. That takes strength. Courage. So give yourself a break. Understanding will come.”

The sudden warmth that flooded her had nothing to do with the stone or energy. He looked so honest, sincere in what he said. Like he believed his words.

“Why do you care? Only hours ago you were offering me up as a sacrifice to your people. A pawn in your game of redemption.”

He sighed, clenched his hands on his waist and dropped his head to let it sag in a brief pose of guilt. Her heart seized, betraying just how important his answer was to her.

Straightening his back, he met her gaze. His lips thinned, but his eyes pierced her with their intensity. “I will always regret that. If I had listened to the instinct that burned within me, I would have
never
turned you over.” He stepped closer, a move that put him firmly in her space, but it wasn’t an attempt at intimidation. Instead, it was comforting. “If I listen to the energy, trust it as I’ve told you to do, I’d believe that you
are
the one for me.”

Her lips parted slightly, the air slowly leaving her constricted chest. He brushed his fingers over her cheek until he cupped the side of her face in his palm. His energy whipped through her from the simple touch, pouring out of his palm to burn her insides. The hunger weakened her knees and scorched her throat to the dryness of a barren desert.

“If I ignore the prophecies, the absent words of faceless spirits, I know that you are all that is good. The white bird is as evil as my white dragon. I don’t care what everyone else thinks. What they say. If I trust the energy—” He cursed softly, then swallowed. “If I trust the energy, then I care about nothing
but
you.”

His eyes burned with the conviction of his words. She wanted to believe him. The urge to lean into him, to simply shift forward and let him catch her, was almost too powerful to resist. But there was more. More to him and to everything that was happening. If she trusted the energy like he was urging her to, then she needed to know what that more was before she could surrender.

“Why is it so hard for you to trust the energy?” she probed, treading as gently as the reedy currents warned her to. “What happened that has led you to doubt exactly what you tell me to believe?” He flinched ever so slightly, but she caught the movement and pushed anyway. “How can I trust the energy when you don’t?”

“An excellent question, young one.” The voice shot through the silence, breaking the moment with the sharp force of a pickaxe.

Damian turned, his hand reaching for the knife strapped to his back and letting it fly in one smooth motion. The weapon shot through the air toward the wiry Asian man who had appeared behind him.

In a blink, the man disappeared. In his absence, the knife speared the wood wall with a dull thud and stuck.
Fuck
. How had he let someone sneak in behind him? A juvenile mistake.

“I am not your enemy,” the voice said from behind him again.

Damian spun, reaching for another knife as he moved.

“
You
,” Amber exclaimed as she pointed at the man. Her other hand slammed over her chest as she shuffled away from the intruder. “
No
. You can’t have it back.”

Amber’s face was etched with panic, her hand clutched possessively around the stone that hung under the jacket. Damian recognized the man as the Spirit Ancient from the alley in New York City. The one who’d rattled off the prophecy and disappeared.

Protect. Defend. Save. The words slammed into Damian as he shoved Amber behind him.

“I do not want the stone back,” the man calmly stated. “It belongs to you. If that were not true, then I never would have given it to you.”

Damian kept the knife raised and ready. “Who are you? What do you want with us?”

“I want nothing from you,” the man said, stepping forward until he stood within the shaft of light that sliced out from the cracked doorway. “I brought you here to give you a moment of safety. To rest and heal before your journey continues.”

Amber pushed her head around Damian’s side, his tight grip on her arm preventing her from moving completely out from behind him.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice strong despite the anxiety he felt coursing through her. “Why do you keep coming to me?”

The thin Asian man tilted his head, and the two strips of white hair that hung like long ropes from the ends of his Fu Manchu
mustache swayed in time with the movement. “Why?” he repeated, a note of curiosity in his voice. “Because you need help and I can provide it.”

The white silk of his loose, traditional Chinese jacket rustled softly as his hands rose from their position behind his back until he held them toward Damian and Amber in a show of trust. “You called for safety, Amber. The energy answered and, with my help, brought you here. Trust the energy to heed your call and keep you safe.”

“How do you know my name?” Amber demanded before Damian could. What game was the Ancient playing?

The man smiled mysteriously, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “Because you are the Marked One. Because I am old and know more than you. I trust the energy. It talks to me. I listen.”

Damian inhaled and reached out across the energy, letting the vibrations flow around him. The power assaulted him in a gust of brute force, but it was not malevolent.

“Again, Ancient. Why are we here?” Damian demanded.

“Because the Chosen One has found the Marked One,” the man calmly replied.

Damian’s jaw tightened against the implication, an instant rejection of the statement. But this was the second time in a day he’d been told that. By two men he did not know, both telling him to believe. Was it true? Damian told Amber to believe, should he?

“There’s no way I can be this Chosen One, a title I’d never heard of before today,” Damian deflected, the cynicism dripping from his voice. He speared the Ancient with a cold stare, daring him to contradict his word. “Chosen inspires the connotation of someone special. Someone picked from the crowd to do something or be something special. We both know I am not that.”

A sacrifice—now that, he could believe.

“What do you mean, Chosen One?” Amber said as she pushed her way from behind Damian. She swiveled her head, shooting questioning looks between the two men. “What haven’t you told me, Damian?”

“It’s nothing,” he denied. “Just words from foolish old men.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is it as nothing as me being the Marked One?” The iciness of her words sunk into Damian.

“I don’t know,” he found himself answering honestly. “Lately, it seems I know nothing.”

A light chuckle drifted through the claustrophobic room. “The first step in understanding everything.” The Ancient smiled at his own caginess as if all the events were suddenly clear. “I found you both when you were lost. But it is up to the two of you to find the path and lead the way.”

“Found us both?” Amber questioned, her sharp mind catching the hidden points when Damian’s had missed it.

“In New York City,” the man replied. “The Year of the Dragon celebration. A year that will change everything. A year that has been a millennium in waiting. You needed the stone and he needed to prepare. That was all I could do then.”

“So it was you who gave Amber the stone?” Damian said. “Where did it come from?”

The Ancient waved his hand in dismissal. “Details that do not matter at the moment.”

“Why me?” Amber whispered, the soft words barely audible in the silent room. She lifted her head and looked at the Ancient. A man she recognized, but didn’t seem to trust.

Damian was learning the calm, collected face Amber presented hid her true feelings. It was her way of deflecting and hiding her emotions from others. A tactic he understood.

He reached out and grabbed her hand. There it was, the niggling of fear, the thread of panic, the trace of desperation—all of them clearly discernable over the energy. He pulled her to his side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The urge to keep her safe—to keep her—took over every thought within him. She resisted him at first, but then she melted against his side, the fight leaving her.

The Ancient walked toward them. Damian stiffened and pulled Amber tighter to his body. Although he detected no threat from the man, he wasn’t prepared to trust him either. Too many years of doubt stood between him and blind faith.

No matter what the energy said.

“You will understand the why when you are ready,” the Ancient told Amber as he stopped a few feet from them. “Now, you need sleep. Food. A shower. I will provide those. Tomorrow, we will talk. But for now, you will rest. This room is safe—no one can enter without my permission.” The man walked to the open door, his white slippers silent against the plush carpet. He pushed the door open, allowing more light into the room. “The bathroom is also safe and fully stocked. A luxury I think you could both use.”

The man bowed slightly, then disappeared without a sound.

Chapter Sixteen

Amber stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around her head, confining her long hair. She had her dirty clothes back on, but her skin was clean. Her mind soothed. Or, at least, tired enough to stop thinking. The long, hot shower had done its magic, releasing the knotted muscle aches and replacing them with a bone-weary exhaustion.

The smell of teriyaki hit her nose, and her stomach growled in response. Damian looked up from his perch on the edge of the low bed. He’d removed his ruined jacket and shirt, making the burn wound—which he had adamantly refused to let her treat—look even worse when highlighted against the bronze expanse of his chest. He looked her over from head to toe before he cleared his throat and stood.