Page 120 of Cry of the Firebird

Aramis watchedAnya leave her tall male companion's compartment with a magical aura that burned as bright as the sun. As he followed her, she glanced around cautiously as if she sensed his presence. Her trailing magic left a red signature clinging to surfaces wherever it landed. Any magical adeptperson could follow her if they wanted to, which was going to make it harder to protect her. And there was no doubt in his mind she would need protection.

She was so much like Yanka that any of her old rivals would kill her on sight for that alone.

Aramis thought he would be able to perform this assignment with relative ease, even with his history with her family, but one glance at those green eyes and pale hair, and he had to fight not to go to her and tell her everything. It wasn't Anya who he saw, though. It was Yanka.

She's dead, but you can stop Anya from meeting the same horrible fate.

Anya had many powerful bodyguards, and she was already suspicious of him. He had caught a glimpse of Isabelle Blackwood on the train, a legend even among the Illumination.

Then there was the thanatos, who was obviously her lover. Anger had washed through him when he had seen them together. To get involved with a death spirit was to court death itself. She didn't seem nervous or repulsed, yet she would have to know what he truly was.How did she get so involved with all of these creatures?

Aramis knew he was going to have to wait to get her alone to approach her. He had almost done it the night he saw her alone and drinking, but his courage had failed him as those familiar green eyes had cut him to pieces. She had to be approached carefully, so she didn't spook before she heard him out. Aramis didn't like the thought of using compulsion magic on her to get her to trust him, but he didn't see another choice.

Before leaving the carriage, Aramis gave a careless flick of his hand, and the trails of her scarlet magic faded away.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

It was after midnight when Anya pulled on her jeans and jacket and stumbled into the corridor. She had felt better since she had a sleep and a talk with Yvan, but when she had tried to go back to her own bed, she was left wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

Trains were never really silent, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't block out the tracks' clacking sound and the hum of the other passengers. Trajan was a creature of the night and had left her to sleep, but she had twisted herself back into a ball of worry and fear that had momentarily been eased by Yvan's presence.

Anya caught her reflection in the train windows and shuddered. Her hair was a shambles, and she had dark circles under her eyes.

Pull yourself together, Anya.She hastily pulled her hair back in a ponytail and rubbed her cheeks to get some color into them.

She contemplated going and waking up Yvan as he had asked her to do, but she didn't want to worry him. What could she say? That she was scared that she would fail them all by not being able to shut the gates? That she didn't think she was ever going to be able to take on Vasilli like Ilya's prophecy had claimed?It was all things they knew, and one thing Anya hated more than talking about her feelings was burdening someone else with them.

Anya made her way through the carriages to the bar. The tired barman smiled at her and handed her a glass of vodka before going back to reading his book.

Anya sat down in one of the booths and watched the stars flash by above her. Her magic flared in excitement, and she looked up to see the silver haired man opening the door of the carriage. Anya glanced over at the barman, but he had fallen asleep on the counter. With no other doors out, she was trapped.

The stranger's blue eyes glanced over her as he walked past and helped himself to the bar.

"It would seem we are the only two people who can't sleep," he said in one of the most unusual voices Anya had ever heard—gentle, deep with a touch of husk and a lilting, unidentifiable accent.

"Trains are too noisy for me to sleep," Anya replied warily. He could just be a passenger. A normal human passenger she had just happened to notice.You're not really dumb enough to believe that, are you?

"I'm claustrophobic, so trains aren't my favorite form of travel either," he said as he sat down opposite her. "Forgive me. I am Aramis."

"Like the musketeer?"

"So I have been told," Aramis replied with a pained sigh.

"Anya."

Aramis offered her his hand to shake, and hesitantly, she took it. Instantly, her magic flared brightly and rushed to her palm. She tried to yank her hand back, but Aramis held it firm.

"Let me go! I don't want to hurt you!" she cried.

"You won't hurt me, Anya. Try to relax." Her magic burst from her palm in two translucent scarlet ribbons that twistedaround Aramis's forearm. It held onto him and caressing him like a pet. Slowly, it retracted back to Anya and disappeared under her skin. He let go of her hand, and she clutched it protectively to her chest.

"What the hell are you?" she demanded. Her power had never materialized like that before; it was always a sensation like static or fire.

"I'm with the Illumination, and I have come to protect you," Aramis said.

"Just what I fucking need," she swore. "What the hell do you people want from me?"

"We don't want anything from you, but I can help you if you let me."

---