City of Shadows

Chapter 18: Hell Hath No Fury

The sand was warm between Ember's toes, the sun burning hot as it glowed brightly overhead. Judging by the heat and its place in the clear, cloudless blue sky, she knew it was near three o'clock.

Ember sighed, then stretched over the towel she was lying on upon the sand. The shade from a nearby palm tree shielded her eyes somewhat from the glare of the sun, and sitting beside her was Roselyn. Both her hands were stuck through the sand, squeezing the fine grains and letting them slip through her fingers, but her eyes were glued onto the blue waters in front of her, watching mesmerized as the waves crashed on shore, leaving behind frothy remains that were lapped up once again by the ocean.

It was a soothing sound. Ember remembered falling asleep to it almost every night as a child, and later, as a teen, before she had gone to New York. It was true, her life was there now, it was technically home, but to her, this would always be home. It was her place of comfort, her place to hide away and disappear in her own little world, her small piece of heaven and peace apart from the hell that erupted in Manhattan.

She had had high hopes for this house, dreams that she had shared—with another person. She and Jonathan had once dreamt of making the house their home. It was their original plan to make it their main place of residence after getting married. They would have divided their time between the New York Institute and Pensacola. Manhattan during the week, Pensacola during the nights and the weekends, and whatever free time they could manage to acquire would have also been spent at the beach. They would have just been a twist of a ring away, after all.

But that had been before, before Jia had named her Recruiter and Ember learned part of the job required her to move to Alicante. And now that she thought about it, the plan definitely had some major flaws.

A pang of sadness shot through her. It was nothing but a memory now anyway, another of many dreams unfulfilled.

A shot of bright golden light managed to pass through a palm leaf. Ember winced and threw her hands up in an attempt to shield her eyes, and her eyes immediately glued themselves to her left hand, namely, her ring finger. There was a band of lighter skin on it, marking the place where her moonstone ring once had been. She had taken it off as soon as she had Teleported to the back of the house, not wanting Jonathan to have any form to reach her. Not that she thought he would, anyway.

Ember sat up, no longer able to rest with the sunlight. Roselyn shifted when she felt her mother stir. She pulled her hands back from the sand and attempted to wipe them on her shirt, then climbed into Ember's waiting arms. The two sat staring out into the ocean. A faint, salty breeze picked up, blowing through their hair and clinging onto their skin. Roselyn's eyes were wide open and she took deep breaths in and out, enjoying the entirely brand-new sensations. Ember was still behind her. Her eyes were closed, her face tilted up to catch the breeze. Her mind was no longer on the joys of her childhood home, however, and was occupied with something else.

She had come to unwind, to get away from everything, but—she had also come to think. She had to sort things out, rearrange herself, but now that she was here, she didn't even know where or how to start.

Well, like anything, she thought, it was best to start at the beginning.

All of this began the day she had fought and killed Jacob, the day she had brought Jonathan back, and her mind took her back to the words she had launched at Jonathan in her fit of hurt and anger.

Now looking at it clearly, she had had two options—three, actually, as she remembered what Jia told her when she had brought Jonathan to the Institute for the first time. Option one: she could have brought Jacob back, option two: bring Jonathan back, or option three: wishing away the taint in Roselyn's blood. Yet in that moment, she only saw one option—Jonathan. As terrible as it made her feel now, Jacob had never once crossed her mind, and Roselyn—well, Roselyn didn't worry her much. A fraction of demon blood ran through her veins, yes, but she hadn't shown any of her darker tendencies as of yet. Her father had been right. She was a good baby; she was a happy baby.