Page 31 of Blue Embers
“Because I didn’t want to go home. There’s no comfort there. Artemis used to live with me and now the place is an empty shell. I just ended up here and...” Her eyes lifted toward mine, her gaze an agonizingly helpless one for a split second. “And you didn’t even question it.”
I found myself unable to take my eyes away from Persephone. She stared at me like she was about to fall forward into my arms and I waited, certain I’d welcome her if she did. In fact, I was certain I’d do a lot more for this woman given the opportunity. What a frightening thought.
Before I could delve too deep into my unusual attractions, the doorbell rang, resonating through the house like a voice telling me to step back. I blinked, realizing how unfocused Persephone made me.
“Expecting someone?” Persephone said, monotone.
“It’s not what you think,” I shot back with sly quirk at the corner of my lips. “And actually you might want to stick around if it’s who I suspect it is.”
I stepped past her, making my way down the hall to the stairway where Malisa was already walking towards the door. The woman arrived early that morning and by the smells permeating the house, she’d just started breakfast. Persephone followed behind me, diverting to the guest bedroom once we reached the bottom floor.
Walking to the entrance, I saw Malisa welcoming two men into the house, both of them Draak. One a menacing Ash Bringer close to Draven’s large size with a similar, muscled physique. Long, fiery-red hair hung down his back in straight locks, some of them braided and pulled away from his face in a lazy tie. He wore slightly weathered clothes as if he’d been wearing the same shirt and jeans for years with scuffed combat boots and leather cuffs. Deep red eyes scanned the contrasting brightness of my home with casual awareness.
The second man was nearly as tall with a broader build, a leather jacket, a silver torc around his neck, and shaggy, ash-blond hair framing a scruffy face. The rich green and amber of his eyes gave away his lineage. The Draak was born from a human mother, but he was old. An original from this world without a doubt. Someone from the first wave of Draak arrivals. I nodded in greeting at the two men as I approached and both returned the gesture.
“Saxon, I presume,” I said toward the Red. “It’s an honor.”
He extended his hand for a firm shake.
“Killian,” he drawled, inclining his head.
I looked to the other man, whose eyes were still scanning the house, hands hanging on his thick belt. He stepped down from the entrance way and into the sitting area, brows raised.
“Now this is a house,” he said in a thick, Scottish accent that rolled off his tongue like a stone down a hill.
“This is Malice Wulf,” Saxon gestured toward him. “We’ve been traveling together for a few months. I thought it would be best to include him in this.”
“Of course,” I nodded.
“Do we even know what this is?” Malice said, his voice carefree and animated.
“Not quite,” I admitted.
As if she’d just jumped from one outfit and into another, Persephone made her way out of the guest bedroom in her suit from the previous day, hair pulled into a low ponytail. She was standing tall, her shoulders back in that confident manner that first attracted me to her. Both Draak men took notice, quieting themselves as she positioned herself opposite Malice near the sofa. Saxon crossed his arms loosely over his chest, waiting patiently for an introduction or perhaps a full explanation. Malice, however, didn’t withhold an obvious scan of Persephone’s figure, a slight curl forming on the side of his mouth.
“Gentlemen,” I said. “This is Persephone Grant. She’s the one who brought the pendant to my attention. She’s the curator for a Draak exhibit at the museum that I’ve been funding.”
Saxon bowed his head slightly in her direction while Malice turned to greet her more personally, holding out his hand to shake hers. Persephone, raising her chin, humored him.
“A bit early for a work associate to be visiting,” Malice grinned, glancing my way just before he raised Persephone’s hand to his lips for a light peck. “A beautiful one at that.”
I cleared my throat, brushing my fingers back over my hair before I stepped away, heading down into the basement to retrieve the pendant. When I reemerged, Malisa was setting plates out on the table and continuing her breakfast preparations. Malice was sitting eagerly before she’d even placed anything on the plates while Persephone and Saxon made their way into the dining room at a more controlled pace. I put the pendant on the table, leaning on the back of a chair to discuss the findings.
“This is made of Draakomir metal.” I gestured to the necklace and looked at Saxon. “Draven can’t identify whose it was. I was hoping you could and if not, perhaps you could read it?”
Saxon, arms still crossed, looked at one of his leather cuffs and the crescent piece of etched metal fastened to it that looked identical in texture to the pendant.
“Unless the owner is dead, I can’t see why he’d part with that,” he said.
“So the man’s got to be dead, right?” Malice asked, leaning lazily forward on the table to look at the piece.
“There are more Reds from Draakon here,” Saxon said. “Could be anyone’s. Could have been passed down centuries ago to a Blue Breath. Maybe even to a Sand.”
“Agh,” Malice hissed. “Stop with that name. Sounds irritating. We like to be called Terrans. You know, because we were born on Earth?” Malice said, winking at Persephone.
Saxon was acting as if he couldn’t even hear Malice and continued.
“Could be someone from the first wave or the second. There are a hundred possibilities,” he said.
