The penultimate chapter in the Greystone series arrives next week. It’s a doozy of a book, and I can’t wait for you to see what difficult choices Soriya and Loren are forced to make. There will be massive repercussions not only for them, but for all of Portents.
Enjoy this sneak peek at Secret of the Stone!
Chapter One
Deep down, Annabelle Waterhouse always saw herself as a city girl. She enjoyed the sights and sounds, the fragrant atmosphere wafting up the streets and down from apartment windows. So much of her identity had been wrapped up in the city—in Portents. She’d found herself there at a young age, alone and without a clue who her parents were. Identity mattered to her and Portents became hers.
Now, though, stepping out into the cool night breeze rushing through the trees, Annabelle wondered if anything she believed had been correct. Rose Riley Forest granted her a level of peace never attained during those frantic, formative days in the city—dreaming of meeting the pair who had brought her into this world. Everything in the forest calmed her, like a balm on her soul. It was home, and she accepted it as the weeks, months, and years passed.
The desires of youth cooled but never vanished. There were times when the city called so loudly, screaming for her return, that Annabelle wondered why she had ever left in the first place. Those nights she would stand on the precipice of the forest, leaning off the ledge and over the immense incline, to see Portents stretched before her.
A hum always filled her ears, begging her to listen. The vibration was the soul of the city. Every life moved as one, rushing from place to place to experience something new and wondrous. The thought of their infectious enthusiasm and boundless optimism sent shivers up Annabelle’s spine.
Then the sirens took over. The clamor of chaos cut off the vibration. It turned into screams of horror. They were the wails of the innocent—the fervor of mayhem that was Portents through and through. And, like every night, Annabelle once more retreated into herself and her new home.
The city was not for her anymore. She belonged to the forest, just as her ancestors had in the early days of Portents. Isolated from the city. Separated from her people. It was safer that way for everyone.
Tonight, though, was not about the city. When Annabelle stepped out onto the lush carpet of grass that surrounded her cabin, her thoughts were not on anything other than savoring the moment with her nightly chores.
Along the left-hand side of the cabin, hidden beneath the massive foliage of Rose Riley Forest, stood a sixteen-by-sixteen stretch of vegetables. Her garden had not come easily. Annabelle’s skills had always been more attuned to chemicals and extracts. The crossover helped in the beginning. A nudge from the runic tattoos marking her forearms and the power contained within her took care of the rest.
Work remained. Constant vigilance provided a self-sustaining paradise for Annabelle. Heads of lettuce poked from the rich soil, surrounded by carrots, green beans, and more. Tomatoes and cucumbers blossomed in the fading days of summer as the cooler nights nipped at their leaves and threatened all the growth of the past season.
Annabelle picked a ripe tomato from the vine. She wiped it clean on her shirt, then sank her teeth into it. Juice ran from her bottom lip, and she struggled to clean herself up before another stain settled along the fabric of her clothing. Soft laughter escaped her as she continued through the thin pathways in her garden.
“Just right,” she muttered to herself. There was more to pick, more to bring inside and prepare for the next morning, but she simply stared over her work. Her nose lingered in the air, aimed toward the well-hidden path to the precipice and the city below. “What I wouldn’t give for a burrito supreme from Colosso Taco. Just thinking about it makes my stomach rumble.”
A deep thrumming shook the earth beneath her feet. The rumbling ran into the forest, marked by shadows along the thick tree line.
“That wasn’t my stomach.”
The tomato fell from her grasp. It swiped across another vine, and a pair joined the descent to the ground where they rolled away from her unsteady feet. Annabelle staggered away from her garden to the wall of her cabin.
Rustling branches woke her to a presence in the woods. Steps boomed from the forest, pounding closer and closer. Fear sparked in her eyes.
“No,” she whispered.
Four shadows raced from the thick brush. They wore black cloaks that obscured their bodies down to their ankles. White masks covered their faces, hiding their identities but not their intent.
“There she is!”
They had found her. The terror she’d carried since removing herself from the city had finally come to pass.
Annabelle left the safety of the cabin wall. No more thought was given to her routine or to the peace of the home she had spent years cultivating. In an instant, survival became everything.
Pulling up her sleeves, Annabelle approached the foursome. “No. I won’t let you do this.”
Even through their masks, she recognized their trepidation. The second they noticed the runes upon her skin and the glow emanating from them, their confident steps turned cautious.
Only the figure at the rear continued his approach. With a strained voice, he shouted, “What are you waiting for? Grab her before she can—”
Annabelle didn’t hear the rest of his command. She let out a calming breath and closed her eyes. The runes upon her skin beamed in deep green, and the world responded around her.
Wind ripped through the woods. It surrounded the cloaked individuals, lifting them from the soft grass. They swirled uncontrollably in the air, caught in the tempest unleashed. With the force of a catapult, Annabelle used her magic to launch them back into the forest. Their cries rang out, terrified and desperate. The sudden impact against the thick foliage silenced them.
Letting out the breath caught in her lungs, Annabelle afforded herself a slight smirk. “You made a mistake coming here.”
Quick steps carried her to the front of the cabin. Her emergency bag waited in the same place it had been kept since her arrival. Clothes, packaged food, and emergency cash rested inside—enough to get her away from the danger until the next safe harbor might be found.
The door stood open. A stranger filled the frame. Masked and cloaked like their compatriots, this one appeared stout compared to the muscular soldiers in the first wave. “The mistake was yours, Miss Waterhouse, in believing you could hide yourself here. That you could ever be safe.”
Three more figures rushed from the tree line. They moved toward her with arms outstretched, ready to tackle her to the ground.
Annabelle spun to greet them. As she did, her arms lit up once more. The runes shifted across her skin until the right formation took hold and exploded in a wave of green energy.
The ground split beneath the trio’s feet. They fell, one after the other, knocked aside by the roiling earth. When the world settled, they remained in a heap along the upturned grass.
Annabelle staggered forward. Her hand grabbed the railing along the cabin’s porch. It creaked from the sudden weight, but kept her upright. The runes dimmed on her skin; the effort was almost too much for her.
A curse slipped from her lips. She was out of practice. The magic was no longer instinctive. Practice had been important when she first arrived at the cabin—an essential protection against any potential threats. Years had passed, and with them, a softening of her edge. The peaceful serenity of her home dulled her skills, and she hated herself for her weakness.
Before she could find her second wind, a hand clasped against her wrist. The woman from the doorway snapped a cuff in place. As she readied the second, Annabelle whipped around, dislodging the woman’s grasp and sending her over the railing to the split earth.
Two more figures were on her within seconds. One grabbed her by the shoulders, while the other took her out at the knees. Annabelle crashed to the ground, the chain from her cuff rattling beneath her.
“Let go of me!” she exclaimed. Light billowed from behind the black cloaks of her captors. Behind closed eyes, she pictured the power required. It flickered for a moment, then sparked.
The men flew away from her into the air. They hung there, suspended for a long moment, as she watched their eyes widen with fear. She wanted to hold onto that feeling for as long as possible, but the rune faded from the effort. With one last push, Annabelle sent them soaring into the trunk of the closest oak tree where they fell unconscious.
Annabelle couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t think clearly. Her head spun from the effort to repel each successive wave of attackers. Struggling to keep her eyes open and her head up, a soft click echoed through the woods.
She looked down to see the second cuff in place.
“No!”
The stout woman had lost her mask in the fall. Cold and calculating green eyes met Annabelle’s. “You have a gift. One we need. You’ll understand some day.”
“Never.” Annabelle focused her energy on her runes, picturing the spell needed to escape. No runes took shape. No light rose from her skin. Instead, it sparked along the cuffs, where glyphs were etched into the sleeves and across the chains, restraining her power along with her. “No. You can’t. I—”
A black sheet fell over her head. Darkness swallowed her world. The serenity of the night and the safety of her home were gone.
Forever.
Chapter Two
Annabelle woke with a start. Her eyes were heavy from the dream, the one that had held her in its grip for weeks on end. The heat from the black sheet, the split earth, and the masks of her captors remained firmly locked in her every thought. They stole her from a hard-fought peace. It was not the life she ever truly wanted but one she had clung to for all it had been worth.
Rolling to her side, the chains hanging from her wrists rattled loudly. They hit the concrete, scraping along the floor as she shifted to the side of her cot. The walls of the room were unpainted plasterboard, taped at the seams in thick strips. The door was locked shut, though she offered little in the way of danger with her gifts still restrained by the cuffs.
For three weeks, the cell had served as her home. It let in just enough light to give her a sense of the passing time, but Annabelle hadn’t seen the sun or moon since her arrival to the dismal space. She had not felt the wind on her face or heard the rustling of the leaves.
Her only company was the man staring at her from the barred window in the door. His eyes were dark wells, bloodshot around deep brown irises. His gaze was as piercing as his words.
“Is it the same dream?”
Annabelle shifted along the cot, pulling away from the doorway as the key entered the lock. With a clang, the door gave way, and the man entered. She said nothing to her jailer, whose watchful eyes took in every move and mannerism.
“Does it haunt you?” He stepped into the shadows of the cell. “Begging you to wake up? To make a different choice? To find a new way out of the dark?”
There was pain in the man, this figure she had come to know as Darius Shepherd. He struggled to hide it, but the pain hid behind every word, waiting to be unleashed on any poor soul dumb enough to recognize it and stand in his way. His very presence frightened her, as their time spent together became a never-ending torture session. She didn’t know why, didn’t understand anything about her circumstances, other than he needed her.
“I’ve seen it.” Darius settled against the wall. “What frightens you in the dark. It’s the same for so many. The uncontrollable. Outside forces bent on our complete and total subjugation.”
Her chains jangled before her. She dragged them closer, letting them echo through the room. They resisted, attached to the wall at Darius’ side. The sound was enough to make her point clear.
“Yes, well,” Darius said with a wry smirk. “I suppose you do understand to an extent.”
Pushing off the wall, Darius stepped closer. “My dream was not so different. I dreamed of falling. Falling for so long. Lifetimes. No one to grab my hand, no one to pull me to safety, and no one waiting to catch me. It was endless—alone in the dark.
“My screams carried for decades, echoing across eternity in the hope for a light that no longer existed.” He held a hand to the door and the space beyond. “That’s what this world has become. So dark. So lost. Falling through darkness. Praying for light.”
His eyes widened, beacons in the shadows of her cell. “Do you want to see the light, Annabelle?” Another smirk spread across his lips. “Of course you do. That light is where the answers are—where your parents are. Every mystery just out of reach. I can give you those answers.”
The moment his legs touched the side of her cot, Annabelle leaped at Darius. She swung her arms at him with every last ounce of strength left in her frail body. He caught the attempt with ease, his hands clamped tight to her restraints. Lifting her from the bed, Darius threw her against the wall where the chains were attached. Her head struck soundly, and Annabelle slid to the ground.
“So defiant,” Darius said with a sneer. “Half-starved, poked and prodded like a lab rat for weeks after being forced to cut yourself off from the world for years, yet still you fight for them. Still, you fight for this city. They would sooner kill you than save you. Why? Why do you care about them, knowing what they are?”
Annabelle struggled to her knees. She whipped the hair from her face. “I’ve seen people at their worst,” she said, her voice hoarse. “But I’ve seen their best as well. I’ve seen monsters—terrible monsters. Enough to know when one is standing in front of me.”
Darius huffed lightly. “Yes, well. I tried to reason with you.”
Quick steps brought him before Annabelle. She reeled only to find the wall and her restraints confining her. “What are you… Stay back, or I’ll—”
A key settled into the lock on the wall. With a loud click, the metal chains fell loose on top of her. The moment the last link joined the pile, Darius took hold and started for the door. “Haven’t we played this game enough during our time together? You will do nothing, Annabelle. The manacles inhibit your abilities. Witchcraft has its limits. Now come.”
“I…” She hesitated on the cold concrete.
Her obstinance brought out a groan of frustration from her keeper. Darius pulled at the chains, ripping her from the corner. “Come!”
Annabelle stood, led along like a dog on a leash. The bright lights of the room temporarily blinded her, and she struggled to see clearly. The space appeared to be a massive storage facility of some kind. There were shelves positioned in all directions, filled to the brim with artifacts, relics, and thick tomes throughout. No words marked the spines or covers of the books, yet the leather binding, the embossed glyphs among them, spoke to their age.
Beyond the shelves, a row of floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the front of the building. They weren’t on the ground floor of the structure, for she saw no streets and heard no traffic from her position. A balcony rested outside the windows, a lone door offering a respite from the dreariness of the inside.
Tables were set up like research stations in some rows. Near the middle of the room, one carried a journal, its pages open. Annabelle attempted a quick glance during her travels through the space. Notes had been written beside pencil sketches. Arrows pointed to certain images with directions or insight she failed to glean in her passing glance. A ball-peen hammer and chisel rested beside the notebook.
“What is all this?”
For all their time together, Annabelle still didn’t know. Most had remained in boxes upon her arrival. Now, with so much visible, her curiosity grew until the question spilled from her lips.
“Treasures locked away,” Darius said. “Secrets hidden out of fear. Tools to change the world. Though I need little to do so.”
She read the satisfied look on his face. “Like me?” she remarked with a scoff. “Not going to happen.”
“This could have gone much easier for you, Annabelle,” Darius said, stopping their tour of the space. “You chose this path. Remember that.”
The manacles fell from her wrists. The chain hit the floor at her feet with a clatter. Annabelle stared at her tattooed arms for the first time since her capture by the masked figures in the woods. She held them up before her, seeing the rune before it came into view on her skin.
“I have had enough of you!”
Darius’ arms extended. Hands slammed into her chest, and Annabelle staggered away from him but didn’t fall. Feet steady and anger on the rise, the witch closed her eyes. The spell sparked brightly. Green energy spilled forth from the tattoos on her skin. A scream erupted, and with it every ounce of anger accumulated during her unwanted stay.
The power released like a bolt of lightning. It moved for Darius, ready to split him in two. Instead, the bolt caromed off an unseen barrier inches from Darius. It rebounded, up and away, ricocheting within the confines of an invisible cell, until the energy slammed into Annabelle. The force caused her to cry out. She fell to the floor in anguish.
“Finished?” Darius asked.
A glance at the floor revealed her predicament. A sigil marked the ground in thick black paint. Annabelle recognized the shield icon from her studies. It had always been a powerful spell at her disposal. Now it tied her in place, another cell in an endless line of them.
“Your power is mine, Annabelle,” Darius said. “It has been for longer than you can imagine.”
Annabelle stood, fists at her sides. “When are you going to get it through your thick skull? I won’t help you. I’ll fight you.”
“You’ll try.”
He gazed up. A funnel ran above her position to the balcony outside where a dais had been built over their time together. She could barely make it out through the many shelving units, but all had been intricately constructed. None of Darius’ actions were spontaneous. All had been planned right from the start.
“It’s time to unlock your potential, Doormaker.” Darius reached into his pocket. When his hand returned, it carried a small, dull object.
Annabelle recognized it right away. “Please,” she said as he raised the Greystone toward her. “You don’t want to do this. You can’t…”
“I have to,” Darius replied coldly. “For too long, the darkness has reigned. I will stop the fall. I will bring back the light.”
“Please. You have to listen!”
The surface of the Greystone glowed brighter. “Open the door for me.”
Annabelle’s screams echoed through the room and out into the city as the world faded to white.
Chapter Three
Loren stopped short of Rafferty’s. He checked his watch, cursing the time staring back at him. Though already fifteen minutes late, he paused in front of the window side-panel of the door. His hand ran along his smooth chin and cheeks, then shifted down to his shirt to flatten out the last of the wrinkles he had missed with the iron.
Another minute ticked by. Patrons of the restaurant shuffled past him, a stray glance shot his way from an elderly man with thick-rimmed glasses who was escorting his wife inside. Her stare lasted slightly longer, and Loren looked the other way to give them a head start into the venue.
His nerves refused to calm. His heart refused to slow. So much heat flowed over his body, Loren wondered if another spritz of cologne was in order or if he should have brought an emergency stick of Old Spice for the occasion.
Now twenty minutes late, Loren let out a long breath. With his story intact—he had gotten lost, which wasn’t exactly a stretch of the imagination considering how poorly he knew the city—Loren opened the door and stepped inside.
Music boomed from a jukebox in the corner. A bar took up the entire right wall, bottles along multiple shelves surrounding a large mirror. Half of the stools held occupants, gnawing on baskets of fries while watching one of several flat-screen televisions surrounding the entire room. Most focused on sporting events, but the local news ran on a couple near the rear of the restaurant.
Samantha Myers sat beneath one. She sipped a bottle of beer. A leather jacket hung over the back of the chair. Her feet rested on the neighboring chair. Typically sharp eyes appeared dull and sullen. A hard day’s shift most likely, but her slouched posture worried Loren all the same.
Shaking his head—the place not what he had imagined when he’d accepted the invitation—Loren made his way over to his companion. “Sorry I’m late.”
Myers turned from the television screens. Her beer slipped from her lips and she nearly dropped the bottle to the floor. Eyes sparked with surprise. “Loren?”
“Expecting someone else?”
Myers’ feet hit the thin carpet with a thud as she sat up. She blinked rapidly, struggling for a response. “I… No, I… You look…”
Loren sighed. “This amount of shock is less than complimentary, Myers.”
“You cleaned up.”
“Thought I needed to.” Loren showcased the room. Few tables were occupied. Those that were held quiet conversations and nervous glances at their closest neighbors. Loren tried not to read too much into it. He sat down and pulled the chair closer. A menu rested before him. He took it in hand. “Come here often?”
“Never been actually,” Myers replied, her attention back on the screen where the extended forecast was on full display.
Loren fought back a response and settled in. Before he could glance over the menu, a server approached. The tag on her chest read Nell; her eyes were deep-set and her red hair tied off in the back.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she said in a muted tone, not wanting to draw the attention of those around them. “We have a variety of local beers on tap.”
“I don’t drink,” Loren answered, his eyes firmly on Myers. She failed to notice with her beverage at her lips and her gaze locked on a car commercial. “I haven’t for a long time.”
The words struck his companion, stirring her from her distraction. Myers read his clear irritation and lowered the beer. “Loren, I—”
Loren ignored her. He turned toward Nell. “I’ll take a Coke.”
She nodded. “Ready to order?”
Myers’ gaze fell toward the table. “I put mine in already.”
Loren’s jaw clenched tighter. “Sounds about right.”
He scanned the menu, which contained mostly tavern fare. Small flourishes were added on the back, though he failed to trust a steak in a place like this. Fish was another risky venture, so he stuck with a burger and fries.
Nell took the menu from him, an awkward smile plastered across her face at the obvious tension rising from the table. “I’ll get that in right away.”
“Thanks.”
As Nell started to depart, Myers held up her beer bottle. “And another for me.” A sharp glare passed across the table. “If that’s all right with you?”
“It’s fine,” Loren said, teeth gnashed together. Nell bolted to escape the area. Loren took a deep breath, then leaned closer to the table to keep his volume at a minimum. “Rough day?”
Myers shrugged. “No different from yesterday or the day before.”
Loren tapped his right foot slowly. He tried to find a way through Myers’ defenses. He thought they were done with the passive-aggressive nonsense of their past. After everything that had happened, he thought they were ready to move on with their lives… together.
“Hey.” He caught her hand and squeezed lightly. “I’m right here.”
“I know,” she said without looking.
“Where are you?”
Myers nodded toward the screen. Of all the things they might have been covering on the news, from the rising acts of violence to the curfew bandied about by Mayor Folsom, Loren didn’t expect to see Myers’ former partner on the television.
The news ticker summarized the latest hate speech offered by the eight-hundred-year-old siren. Thel held nothing back. She railed against the city’s policies and called on every myth, legend, and monster to strike back at their oppressors.
It was the last thing Portents needed. Hell, it was the last thing Loren needed.
For Myers, though, things with Thel were much more personal. “She killed a man, Loren. She killed him, and I let her go.”
“She didn’t give you a choice.”
Thel had killed David Yardin, a beat cop who had assaulted her with the rest of his bigoted colleagues. It had been out of revenge, but Thel took it further. Myers had tried to talk her down, to be there as her friend. Instead, Thel turned on her, using the power of her song to almost kill Myers.
Any hope for redemption was gone, or so Loren believed. Myers, though, appeared heartbroken just at the mention of her former friend.
“And since then?” Myers wheeled around and her hand slammed against the table. “What have I done to stop her? Every second she is allowed to spew her hate to the city is another second I’ve failed her. People are dying, Loren. That’s on me.”
“We’ll find her.”
“And then what?” Myers huffed. “Bringing her in now might start a riot.”
“On both sides.”
He understood the sentiment too well. Portents was a powder keg. Thel was the fuse, and any action against her would simply become the eventual match. Things were getting bad, but the worst was yet to come. All felt it in the city. Even Loren subconsciously realized the change around him. He had taken to carrying his gun again, something he’d sworn off after resigning from the Portents Police Department. How many others would do the same, and what violence would stem from their terrified actions?
His musings ended with the arrival of Nell and their meals. She set the burgers down alongside a pair of baskets filled with fries. A word of thanks passed between them, but she was already in mid-stride, their previous exchange still fresh in her mind.
Myers moved for her burger immediately. Loren held her up, a hand over the food. “Come on, Sam. Let’s at least try to enjoy the meal. Maybe even the company?”
“Loren…” Her phone silenced the thought. It rang loudly at her side, and she turned to retrieve the device from her jacket pocket.
Loren slouched in his chair. “Or not.”
“Myers here.”
Words passed quickly. With each one, Myers inched toward the edge of her chair. Her head drooped low. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
The conversation lasted only seconds, yet the silence lingered. Myers ended the call without another word. The phone dropped from her hand, crashing against the table. She pushed away and stood. Her coat fought against her frantic movements.
“What is it?” Loren asked.
She refused to look at him. Loren jumped to his feet and cut her off.
“Tell me.”
“A murder,” she muttered, head bowed before him. “There’s been…”
“Sam,” Loren said. He lifted her gaze to meet his. Tears stung her cheeks. “Who?”
“She’s dead, Greg,” Myers said. “Thel’s dead.”
Chapter Four
“Go.”
Gabriel Jordan raced forward, a deep breath caught in his lungs. Wide strides carried him across the rooftop to the Walker Complex, where he leaped into the night sky with arms spread and a smile on his face. Landing, Gabe tucked into a roll, then shot back up to his feet for more.
Soriya matched his pace the entire time. There wasn’t a dot of sweat on her brow or an ounce of strain on her face.
“Faster,” she said, charging ahead. Gabe followed suit. He pushed himself harder to drive against the wind sweeping across the rooftops. “Use your momentum. See each movement before it comes.”
He felt the edge nearing, another gap between downtown constructs. The next block seemed too far away for them to make it, but Soriya didn’t hesitate.
“Leap.”
Gabe did so without question. His time with Soriya had done so much to build the trust between them. Since her return, they’d been training. Every evening for two hours, Portents was their playground as he worked his body and mind into the perfect weapon to use against the monsters in the dark.
The gap faded behind him. His feet crashed into the gravel on the rooftop. Skidding for a moment, he righted himself once more and caught up to his teacher.
She nodded her approval. “Trust in the stone begins with trust in yourself.”
“He told you that, didn’t he?” Gabe asked between breaths. Sweat dripped down his brow. He swiped at his forehead to keep it out of his eyes. “Your mentor.”
“He did,” Soriya said. She smirked. “As well as a few choice words on distractions.”
She ducked aside. Gabe peered ahead and realized why. The door to the building jutted out toward them. He slammed into the slab at a full run and fell back on his ass. Rocks churned around him. They slapped at his exposed arms and legs.
He cursed himself as he dusted off his pants. Looking back up, Soriya stood over him with an outstretched hand.
Gabe took the gesture, and she pulled him to his feet. “Okay. Point made.”
“Not yet,” Soriya replied. “Someday, though.”
She quietly paced the outskirts of the rooftop. Gabe took the moment to catch his breath. Despite his youth and the physical rigors of high school, he had never been put through his paces as much as he had with Soriya. Loren’s diet certainly hadn’t helped matters. Maybe Pop-Tarts weren’t the best breakfast five days a week?
He needed a gym membership on top of the workouts he now received from the resurrected warrior. Not that he had time to consider another activity on top of everything else. School continued to be a trial, especially after everything that had happened with Darius Shepherd. Still, Gabe persisted. He wanted nothing more than to prove to Loren—and now Soriya—he had what it took to be the Greystone.
Soriya returned from her lap around the building. “Looks all clear. Ready?”
“Hell, yes.”
He didn’t wait for the starting gun. Gabe knew what came after the endurance training. It was time to spar. His right leg extended, looking to sweep behind Soriya. She leaped above the strike, legs tucked tightly to her chest.
The second she landed, she went on the offensive with a right cross that barely missed. Gabe backpedaled as she pressed the advantage. “I like the confidence, Gabe. It helps, but only goes so far. Another lesson from my teacher. One that took a long time to sink in.”
With every word spoken, Soriya drove him back across the rooftop. Attempting to dodge her various strikes, Gabe neared the ledge much sooner than he’d realized. His left leg connected with the barrier, which woke him to his predicament.
Before he could react and commit to a counterattack against Soriya, she grabbed hold of his shirt. Her smirk grew into a full grin as she twisted around like a top. She spun him, first away from the building and then back to the ledge. She winked at Gabe before she tossed him off the rooftop.
The Greystone was in his hand in an instant. They had practiced the maneuver for days until every step became second nature. The street below rapidly approached, ready to end his life with a single impact. Wind whipped around him, but he pushed all fear aside. All doubt faded. Only the stone mattered, and he closed his eyes.
The wind, wild and untamed, paused. A second later, with the power of the stone under his command, it turned controlled and obedient. The gale spun beneath him, an unseen whirlwind that ended his descent. He began to rise.
Opening his eyes, Gabe laughed. “I’m doing it!”
Soriya watched intently from the ledge, her own stone in hand. “The Greystone is an extension of your will, Gabe. Forget gravity. Forget everything else pulling you down. You control the stone. Now, focus on your destination.”
He pictured the ledge in his mind. With every ounce of will channeled into the ancient and mysterious weapon, Gabe rose higher and higher. The rooftop was almost within reach. He could almost touch it.
“I’m doing it. Holy crap, I am—” A pigeon landed on the ledge before him. Its curious head cocked to the side, questioning the stone bearer with a confused stare. The interruption was enough to cut Gabe’s focus off from the stone. The wind faded to nothing, and the street prepared for his arrival. “Uh oh. Soriya!”
Panic filled his face. He swiped at the air above him, like a drowning man begging for the surface. It did nothing to help his situation and he fell. The building rushed by in a blur, windows and bricks mixing in a sea of color—the last thing he’d ever see if the street had its way.
Suddenly, from beneath him, a massive wind tunnel formed. The gale pulled in every available flow of air to buffet Gabe’s fall until, once again, he rose into the night sky and back to the roof.
“I’ve got you,” Soriya announced, the rune clear on her extended Greystone.
Released by the wind, Gabe crashed before her. He settled on his knees, sweat covering his face and dripping from his fingertips. The strain had been incredible. So had his progress. A simple distraction, however, ruined the moment.
“I blew it.”
Soriya shuffled to his side, hand out again. “A setback. Not a failure.”
Gabe knocked the hand aside. He stood on his own, his balance unsteady for a brief step. He used the ledge to find his footing. The winged spectator remained, and Gabe swatted at the pigeon until it took off for more peaceful pastures.
“Let’s go again,” Gabe said, stone at the ready.
“Tomorrow.”
“But—”
Soriya pointed to the clock adorning the front of the Walker Complex. The hour was getting late. “I promised Loren.”
“School,” Gabe grumbled under his breath. A mental checklist of the day’s unfinished homework ran through his thoughts. “Right.”
The idea of a normal life still upset him. That wasn’t for him. School, work, paychecks, commutes, happy hours, and television… those were the priorities of people he never saw himself becoming. But that had been the deal. In order to train with Soriya and embrace the role of Greystone fully, Gabe had to succeed at school. He refused to let Loren down.
Soriya clearly read his thoughts. Her hand grazed his arm. “More than that, Gabe. Balance. How we measure our lives. How we temper our obsessions. Balance is everything.”
“How do you find it?”
“Through you.” The answer brought a smile to his face. She squeezed his arm, then nodded toward the rooftop door. “You’re going to be a great stone bearer someday, Gabe. Don’t rush to the end. Enjoy the journey.”
“I will. I am,” Gabe said. “These last few weeks… I really appreciate this, Soriya.”
She opened the door and ushered him inside. For a second, her body lurched forward, as if pain wracked her every bone. Just as quickly, she was upright again. Soriya said nothing, but Gabe hesitated at the threshold of the building.
“How about you?” It was the question he should have asked more often than he did. The discussion, though, always centered on him—on the training, on the Greystone, and even on Portents—never on her. “How are you doing with everything?”
“Me?”
“Come on.” Gabe leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “Your dad is back and turns out to be a villain. Your home is destroyed. It’s a lot to process.”
“I’m fine.” The confident look in her eyes wavered. Soriya’s father, Darius, had returned through the Bypass. He’d tricked Gabe into acting on his behalf, all to steal the ancient energy hidden beneath the city. For what reason, they never learned. The damage, however, had been done. Soriya had lost everything in the fight, including her home.
“Soriya…”
“I am,” she repeated. “I even have a line on a new apartment.”
“Where?”
She turned back toward the Walker Complex to read the time again. “We should get you home for the night.”
Gabe nodded, the lie apparent to both of them. “I can manage.” He started inside only to stop at the first stair. “You know, there’s plenty of room at Loren’s, if you—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Gabe.” Soriya closed the door, cutting her off from him and dropping him into shadows.
“Right.”
Gabe started down the street. His normal life awaited him. He was already counting the hours until their next training session.
Chapter Five
Soriya’s hand lingered on the door. Her head settled against the cold slab, and she let out a long breath. When Gabe’s steps faded, the weight against the door lessened but refused to disappear.
She was far from fine. Every lie brought another wave of anxiety, though she couldn’t admit it to Gabe. That was the last thing he needed to hear. After everything the young man of seventeen had gone through, the stinging betrayal of putting all his trust in Darius Shepherd, the last thing Gabe needed was another burden to carry.
Soriya closed her eyes. Jaw tightened and fists clenched as more pain wracked her body. She had held back the agony as much as possible during their training. With the solitude of the night, Soriya let it loose with a gut-wrenching scream that dropped her to her knees. Her skin tinted green. Along her arms and legs, runes formed. They provided a barrier to the power buried deep inside her—one she kept secret from everyone.
The Bypass.
The chamber ceiling had fallen, and she had been left with no other option. She couldn’t lose the Bypass or let it loose to be found by someone like Darius. Weighing what few options had been available, Soriya made the only logical choice. She had taken the Bypass into her, locking it away for safekeeping.
With each use of the stone, though, Soriya felt the Bypass rise to the surface. It threatened to breach her body and rip her soul into a million pieces. She carried the whole of the infinite. It flowed through her veins, coursing in rivers of endless energy, waiting to burst forth back into the world.
Even with their training completed, the pain remained. Each passing day brought more of the turmoil, more of the agony, with no end in sight.
Soriya swallowed it down. She needed to push past it, to be the Greystone in a way no one else had before. Her time within the infinite had proved her worth and shown her the way forward. The spirit was willing. The body? Not so much.
As the pain lessened, Soriya opened her eyes. She let go of the door and found her footing. Gravel scattered beneath her unsteady movements. The evening breeze cooled her boiling skin and calmed her unsettled nature.
Too much remained unsolved. Thoughts of Darius brimmed back to the surface. Her fingers grazed the chain of the locket she had taken to wearing since her return. She opened the heart-shaped charm. Her mother smiled back at her, taken from the world much too soon.
Darius’ grim look stared at her from the other side of the charm. Though the image depicted a degree of happiness from the man, it failed to convince Soriya. It appeared false, a painted-on mask of desperation to hide the true intent of the villain beneath. He might have been her father, but he had never taken to the role. He never loved her the way he should have.
The truth behind her parentage continued to sting. For all the knowledge shared by Mentor over the years, his secrets haunted her. She tried to move past them. Her time with Gabe certainly helped in that regard, but the lessons always circled back on her. So much remained unsaid.
She should have been honest with Gabe about the Bypass… and about her living situation. Soriya had yet to find a place to call home. What stopped her from reconnecting fully with the city and her people, she couldn’t say, but the distance was necessary for now.
Perhaps it was the Bypass itself. That had to be the priority, didn’t it? Somewhere within Portents was a space capable of containing the power currently locked within her body. Nothing, though, would ever be the same as her lost home.
The situation would have to wait, though. Portents needed her. There was unrest in every district. People protested against their neighbors, the myths and legends trapped since the destruction of the Courtyard. Violence increased on both sides. Quelling the hate was her priority, so those more connected could solve the underlying issues.
The timing, though, troubled her. Everything was spiraling out of control, and all had started with Darius’ arrival to the city. Something about him, some plan in the works, terrified her to no end. She couldn’t see it—wasn’t clever enough to understand his intentions—which made everything worse.
Soriya stepped onto the ledge. The Ribbons of Kali whipped down her left side, ready to launch into the night. She considered the possibilities as she stared down Beren toward the Red-Light District. So many hotspots had cropped up of late. Which should she tackle first tonight?
No answer came. Only another stabbing pain, this time directly in her gut. Soriya doubled over. She toppled off the ledge and over the side of the building, diving headfirst for the street below. The pain refused to abate for even a second to give her the chance to save her own skin. Her Greystone remained in the pouch tied to her hip, out of reach like everything else.
With one last desperate cry, Soriya held out her left arm. The pink strands of ribbon shot out. No direction was necessary. The thought alone was enough to put them into action. One grabbed the cornice of the building, but slipped free, unable to secure itself. The other found a lamppost and wrapped tightly.
Soriya swung hard down the block, jerked by the sudden swing of the ribbon. Her vision blurred, half from pain and the other from the jarring arc. Her momentum carried her down the block and then back again. The ribbon reeled her in with each swing until finally letting her settle along the sidewalk.
When it detached from the lamppost, Soriya fell to her knees. Her body heaved, a mass of spit and vomit erupting onto the pavement and into a nearby sewer grate.
The pain was the worst yet. But she hadn’t been using the Greystone. Had Gabe?
Soriya wondered if her body was trying to reject the infinite locked inside. There was little choice in the matter, though. She couldn’t fail now. Not with the Bypass. Not as the Greystone.
Her father was waiting for her in the dark. Sooner or later Darius’ plan would come to fruition and everything would crash down on her. It was her burden to carry, just as the Bypass was now. She needed to be ready for anything. She needed to be perfect. Or else all might be lost.