Karsten Knight - Afterglow

Like the living room, the bedroom was now missing its entire back wall, and the floorboards ended abruptly in a jagged line. A pair of hummingbirds, which must have slipped through the protective plastic sheets, flitted around the room, and Ash spotted the nest they’d built on Rose’s old dresser.

Only when Ash turned around did she discover the crimson splatter against the wall.

She’d been so fixated on the bed that she missed the bloodstain on the way in. It not only splattered the walls, but coated the decorative horse border that ran around the room as well and even speckled the ceiling fan. Granted, the bodies had clearly been carted away, but one thing was for sure: No one could lose that amount of blood and survive.

The awful odor of death suddenly found its way to Ash’s nose, so she rushed out of the room. Nothing in the bedroom, not even the dolls, had given Ash that “this must be important to Rose” feeling . . . or maybe she was just looking for an excuse to escape the nausea that had overcome her.

Back outside Ash wasn’t quite ready to give up. She eyed the stables across the way. Ash had only begun to explore the strange mental link the Wilde sisters seemed to share, but this time something told her the wooden building would have been important to Rose. The Cloak had told Ash during her visit to their Netherworld that the Wilde sisters were like a candelabra: separate flames from the same vessel. When they’d split Pele into three souls, some cerebral connection had clearly lingered, allowing Ash, Eve, and Rose to find each other, lifetime after lifetime.

The same way that Colt seemed to always find her no matter what. . . .

Inside the stables Ash immediately sensed that something wasn’t right. And not just in the sickening way that she could imagine the events that took place during the kidnapping.

Something here had been disturbed recently.

Very recently.

She crossed the hay-strewn floor to where she could hear the shuffling of a horse’s hooves. Sure enough, there was a black stallion milling about in one of the enclosures. There was a wild, unbroken air about him—Ash didn’t really know much about horses, but something about the stallion’s demeanor made her think that this wasn’t the kind of domesticated horse that a family with small children kept on its ranch. In fact, as she cautiously crossed toward the pen, her gaze never leaving the creature’s volatile eyes, she thought: If Rose’s family really is dead or gone, then who the hell has been taking care of this horse?

“He doesn’t belong to you, you know.”

Ash spun around. In the entryway to the horse stables a girl Ash’s age stood with her hands planted on her hips. Her hair, which fell in ringlets nearly to her waist, was so red that with the afternoon sun backlighting it, it could have easily been made of fire. She was smiling at Ash, but not in a friendly way—there was barely restrained animosity simmering just below the surface, to the point that the girl was visibly trembling when Ash looked closely.

He doesn’t belong to me . . . ? Ash repeated in her head. She pointed to the black stallion and raised her eyebrows. “I mean, the horse and I just met a minute ago, and I’m not sure the two of us are ready to put labels on anything this soon.”

“You know who I’m talking about,” the girl seethed. Her tattered long green skirt billowed behind her like a punctured sail as she took a few strides forward. Ash must have still looked perplexed because the girl scoffed. “Well, that shows how much Colt must mean to you.”

“Colt?” Ash couldn’t help it—she laughed, even though she was fully aware that there was a dangerous situation brewing. “Honey, I realize he’s easy on the eyes, but believe me when I say that he leaves an aftertaste like battery acid. Where did you meet him anyway—online dating?”

The girl’s hand tightened around one of the wooden beams holding up the stable roof, so tight that Ash was afraid the post would snap. “I met Colt Halliday many lifetimes ago. Long before even you knew him, before he adopted a human name . . . when he was still known across the continent as the trickster Kokopelli. He has been my lover for nearly eight lifetimes.”

Another laugh had been perched on Ash’s lips, but with that, it suddenly died. So this girl was a reincarnated goddess just like her. No wonder her danger sensors had gone through the roof when the girl walked into the stable. Worse, this fiery redhead’s face was starting to tingle in the back of Ash’s mind, where dormant memories of her previous lives slept—the memories that Colt had awakened as a means to manipulate her. No doubt he’d done the same to this girl, probably to use her for whatever pathetic bidding he required. “Wait, wait, wait . . .,” Ash said. “Your Colt’s . . . mistress?”

The redhead stabbed a finger at Ash and snarled, “ You’re the mistress, Pele!” She turned the finger on herself. “I am his true love, his soul mate. You’re just the temptress that pops up like a weed in the cracks every lifetime, strangling the happiness out of him. You’re poisonous to him, but he’s addicted to you like some sort of drug.”

“Listen—” Ash stopped herself. “What’s your name, by the way?”

The girl straightened up to her full height, nearly six feet tall and rail thin. Between her frame, her hair, and her freckled Irish paleness, she was the physical opposite of Ash. She guessed she couldn’t blame Colt for wanting to diversify his lovers. “I am Epona,” the girl announced proudly, “Celtic goddess of horses . . . and nightmares.”

“Uh-huh,” Ash replied without interest. “Well, Epona, I can totally respect the fact that you’re . . .” Ash paused because she was really tempted to complete the sentence with just another psycho who needs to let go of the past and learn to be an independent woman. Instead she opted for the more diplomatic approach. “ . . . a hopeless romantic. And I’d love nothing better than to let you and Colt ride off into the sunset together, if it meant I’d never have to hear from either of you again. Unfortunately, your boyfriend is like an annoying boomerang—no matter how hard I throw him away, he just keeps coming back, and someone always ends up hurt.”

For a moment Epona’s face relaxed, and Ash thought she might actually listen to reason. Ash had been through her fair share of fights over teenage romance before, and it had always ended poorly. Lily, the disturbed blossom goddess, had killed Rolfe out of envy and died at Ash’s hands for that same boiling hatred. Ash had needed to kill Rey, the Incan sun god, too, when he tried to avenge the death of his winter-goddess girlfriend. And who could forget what happened to field-hockey captain Lizzie Jacobs, Ash’s old rival back in New York and the girl who stole her asshole ex-boyfriend. . . . Ash realized that the teenage years were when people were expected to be reckless and stupid, but couldn’t any of these people stand on their own two feet without making their universe revolve around a boyfriend or girlfriend? “Look, I’ve found myself in sticky situations because of guys who didn’t treat me right before. But believe me when I say that the ones you want to fight over are never worth it.”

Just like that Epona’s expression rebounded right back into wrath. “If you won’t die for someone—if you won’t kill for them—then it’s not love. You don’t deserve Colt. He and I had been perfectly happy together for years this time around before I discovered that he was trying to track the three of you down again. To put you back together. He was confused and had forgotten who he really loved. Me,” she added, as if Ash were a moron and hadn’t caught the drift. “I knew Colt couldn’t put your filthy soul back together without all the pieces, so I decided to send a piece of you away where I figured he’d never find you.” She glanced back in the direction of the half-destroyed house with a knowing smile.