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  Unnamed

  ALSO BY RACHEL A. MARKS Winter Rose (novella) The Dark Cycle Darkness Brutal Darkness Fair Darkness Savage

  Unnamed

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2018 by Rachel A. Marks All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Skyscape, New York www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Skyscape are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781503946750 ISBN-10: 1503946754 Cover design by Eileen Carey

  For my bashert, Joseph, because he knew before I did.

  CONTENTS BEFORE ONE SAGE TWO SAGE THREE FAELAN FOUR SAGE FIVE FAELAN SIX SAGE SEVEN SAGE EIGHT SAGE NINE FAELAN TEN SAGE ELEVEN SAGE TWELVE SAGE THIRTEEN FAELAN FOURTEEN SAGE FIFTEEN FAELAN SIXTEEN SAGE SEVENTEEN FAELAN EIGHTEEN FAELAN NINETEEN FAELAN TWENTY SAGE TWENTY-ONE SAGE TWENTY-TWO SAGE TWENTY-THREE SAGE TWENTY-FOUR FAELAN TWENTY-FIVE SAGE TWENTY-SIX FAELAN TWENTY-SEVEN SAGE TWENTY-EIGHT FAELAN TWENTY-NINE SAGE THIRTY FAELAN THIRTY-ONE SAGE THIRTY-TWO FAELAN THIRTY-THREE SAGE THIRTY-FOUR FAELAN THIRTY-FIVE SAGE THIRTY-SIX SAGE THIRTY-SEVEN FAELAN THIRTY-EIGHT SAGE THIRTY-NINE FAELAN FORTY SAGE FORTY-ONE FAELAN FORTY-TWO SAGE FORTY-THREE FAELAN FORTY-FOUR SAGE FORTY-FIVE SAGE FORTY-SIX SAGE FORTY-SEVEN FAELAN FORTY-EIGHT SAGE FORTY-NINE SAGE FIFTY FAELAN FIFTY-ONE SAGE FIFTY-TWO SAGE EPILOGUE KIERAN ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BEFORE The flames came without warning at her touch. She could do nothing. Only watch the fire consume him as her soul splintered. His long black hair took wing with the blaze, twisting and melting into nothing as his screams filled the forest where they stood. The same forest where she’d kissed his human lips, reveling in his scent. Where she’d let him love her, their secret safe in the arms of the emerald trees. Now all was orange and golden light, eating him away. She tried to quench the flames with her shawl, her hands, but still his perfect skin blistered and cracked, peeling off in flakes to float away with the sparks above her head. It happened so quickly. The face she’d kissed so many times disappeared in the dancing glow, unveiling a grinning skull. Her cries of anguish echoed around her as his choked off, his charred body crashing to the ground. Sweet mother Brighid, no! What had she done? Silver smoke rose in pluming clouds, stinging her eyes, her nostrils, as the burns on h

  ONE SAGE I have this thing for fire. It terrifies me. Because when I feel the warmth on my skin, or watch the dancing flames, it’s as if the pulsing glow is speaking to me. It’s only a small whisper, but it’s crystal clear in my mind. A voice that merges with the rhythm of the flickering tongues of light: Touch. Feed. Control. I’m sure something is very wrong with me, but my crazy isn’t my biggest problem right now. It’s my lack of a place to crash for the night. I flick my lighter on and pretend I don’t hear the whispers as I hold the flame up to the end of Ziggy’s cigarette. She pulls in a drag and then coughs. She’s totally asthmatic, but for some reason she won’t quit. “I hope they have some of those blueberry scones left over,” she says, leaning on the wall beside the back door of the coffee shop. She twists one of her short dreadlocks around her finger. “They make me feel fancy. And I need to feel fancy on Halloween, like I’m in disguise.” The alley is lit by the small yellow lam

  TWO SAGE “She’s definitely not much to look at,” a voice says, pulling me from sleep. I was dreaming of . . . I don’t know, it’s fluttered out of my head already. But I do know I’m not alone in the room. I sit up in a rush and scramble back against the wall. Three large males hover over me, all wearing cat ears and holding red Solo cups. Two are blond with pale skin, and the third is super tan with brown eyes and dark brown hair. They study me intently, like I’m some sort of science experiment they’re trying to figure out. “Whoa,” blond number one says, his head pulling back. Blond number two adds, “Skittish thing,” like I’m not staring right at him. The tan guy takes a drink, then says, “You’d be skittish too if you woke up to someone insulting you.” Blondie One looks dubious. “You know I’m flawless, Ben.” “Sure I do,” Brown Eyes answers dryly. He must be the cousin. Star pushes them all aside. “Gods’ bones, give the girl space to breathe. I told you to leave her be until Faelan gets

  THREE FAELAN “You’ve got the wrong girl!” the demigoddess yells as I lift her out of the beanbag chair and drag her by the arm down the hall to the back room. “Please! My mom’s name is Lauren, not Brighid!” She squirms and wriggles like a determined salmon and keeps shouting. “The bitch is probably in jail again. Or in a gutter smoking crack. Whatever you’ve got going on with her, I’m not a part of it. I haven’t seen the woman in years.” She’s trying to convince me of her humanity, trying to convince herself. But her aura is sparking orange and gold. Can’t she feel her Other blood ready to be released? Can’t she sense her soul aching for her own kind? If not, she’s about to get a very loud wake-up call. I drop her on the bed and attempt to think past her screeching. I need to take a breath and come at this more delicately, or we’ll lose her and she’ll end up in Prince Kieran’s clutches, captive to the whim of the House of Morrígan. I don’t understand how she doesn’t realize what she di

  FOUR SAGE The guy steps closer, his fist clutching a dagger at his side. The glinting silver blade is all I can see. He was babbling about moons and pixies or something, and now he’s decided to kill me because I’m not buying his bullshit? I scramble back, pressing myself against the dresser. “What’re you doing?” “Since you won’t listen, I’ll show you the truth.” A scream rises in my throat, but all I can do is choke in horror. I can tell by his hard gaze that if this strange guy wants me dead, I’m dead. I could fight, but I’ll lose. He pauses a few feet from me. Instead of attacking, he puts the blade to his own forearm. Then he presses hard and slices deep. I stare in horror as blood bubbles up in a rush of deep red. Panic jolts through me. But before I can move, the bedroom door opens and one of the pale blond guys comes in, propping up a limp and ashen Ben. Faelan’s arm is dripping with blood now—it pitter-patters as it hits the floor. He points his red-tipped knife at Ben and looks

  FIVE FAELAN The demigoddess has been silent the whole drive into the city. The only clue that lets me know she hasn’t gone catatonic from shock is the way she keeps shaking out her hand and flexing her fingers, likely because of pain from striking the human girl’s jaw. She doesn’t hit very hard. I’ll have to be sure her tutor works with her on self-defense during her transition. Still, I’m fairly sure that the human, Ziggy, will have a bruise on her jaw for a few days. It’s odd, but the demi seems more disturbed by the human’s betrayal of her than by the revelation of her origin. Her energy went a thick dark gray when she walked across the room to slug the girl. It’s resting in a heavy fog on her shoulders right now. “The human was sworn to secrecy,” I say, feeling the need to dampen the swirling cloud as it starts to roll down her arms and fill the car. “She was only following orders. She’s what we call a watcher. Her job was to keep a close eye on you for us, and it would have meant

  SIX SAGE I try to shake off Faelan’s hand, but he just grips me harder and tugs me along like I’m a child. “Is everything all right?” the receptionist asks, looking from me to Faelan with a frown. “Right as rain, Dana,” he answers with his annoying accent. I mouth the word help at her, but she doesn’t move; she just watches us with wide eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses. Her shiny red lips purse in curiosity as we turn left and head down a long hallway. “Nice try,”
Faelan says to me. “She’s a pixie. And she was gawking because she knows whose daughter you are, not because I was dragging you out of an elevator.” I deflate and study the surroundings as I’m pulled along. The décor is stark—black and white and gray. Gray wooden floors, and white glass walls that have odd black lines and shapes on them for decoration. Not a speck of color in sight. As I try to make sense of the designs on the walls, I realize I’m looking at oversize replicas of pencil drawings. Sketches of buildings. And I r

  SEVEN SAGE Faelan leads me back to the car in silence. This time he doesn’t tug me along like I’m a fussy preschooler. Actually, he doesn’t seem to want to touch me at all. Which is good. I think if he did, I’d freak out in a major way, with this mess inside me. He’s obviously pissed. He practically punched the elevator button into the panel to get the doors to close faster. It’s hard to care, though, with my own nerves on fire. I’m trying to take deep breaths and get this heat in my skin to pass. It’s so overwhelming, it’s actually starting to hurt. I don’t know what to do with it. I hardly notice the wait for the valet to bring the car around. I barely register getting in the Audi or driving through the city. I’m focused so intensely on shoving down this crazy storm inside me that the rest of the world has become a blur of muffled noise and color. My mind can’t seem to think past the embers in my skin, the need. I must be some kind of monster to feel like this about a guy I just met.

  EIGHT SAGE Sleep. It’s barely happening. There was a moment of stillness, when the warmth and comfort of my new surroundings wrapped around me, the poolside waterfall lulling me with its calming rhythm, allowing me to nearly drift off. But then I remembered the last time I fell asleep and woke to three guys gawking at me. And the way I was trapped. And lied to. My whole life. Eventually, I sit up and scan my new living quarters, which I didn’t bother to look at when I walked in a few hours earlier. I just made a beeline to the couch and collapsed on it, curling myself into the throw blanket tossed over the back. Now I notice that the couch is purple velvet, soft against my skin. The blanket I was wrapped up in is a pale blue angora, and the throw pillow I rested my head on is delicately embroidered, fit for a queen; it was obviously made by hand. I run a finger over the faded threads and marvel at the detail of the design. Like something out of one of those ancient manuscripts I saw on

  NINE FAELAN I rise from sleep quickly, my new task weighing heavily on my mind. I climb down from the nest in the center of my new room. The dirt floor of the bungalow is cool under my feet. My arm brushes against one of the ropes of ivy hanging from the ceiling, and a few leaves wilt as I unintentionally take in a thread of life. My head is still a mess from earlier. I need to shed this if I’m going to do what Marius wants and assist this new demi with her transition. I need to focus. Once I got settled in here this morning, I managed to fall into a light sleep for a few hours, but the stillness was fleeting. I kept seeing the fear in the demi’s eyes, kept smelling her shock. The cloud of her misery seemed to follow me after we parted ways, and it’s still sticking to my skin. I’m not sure how to cleanse myself of it. I consider feeding more, but I already took some energy from the growth around me as I slept, and it hasn’t done any good. Instead, I make my way into the attached greenh

  TEN SAGE Who turned up the heat? It’s so warm. Like, really warm. A vague memory of fire and the smell of rosewater drift away as I become more aware of my surroundings. Sweat pearls on my temples. My lungs ache like they’ve been singed from the inside. As I open my eyes, they sting like mad, my vision blurring. What’s with all the fog in the room? No, not fog. Smoke. My nerves spark, and I sit up in a rush, every muscle in my body screaming. I feel like I raced an Ironman or something. What the hell? A cough rips from my chest, raspy and thick with phlegm. And then another. I wipe the tears from my eyes and wave a hand in front of my face to attempt to move the smoke. But when my surroundings become a little clearer, the heat against my skin dulls. And icy threads of fear weave through me. Everything around me is black, burned, charred into rubble. The bed I’m sitting on is only coal and sticks now, the ceiling above my head full of smoldering holes. And the cushy chair near the windo

  ELEVEN SAGE I knock on Faelan’s door, but only silence echoes back. Unconscious people tend not to answer doors. When I glance across the walkway to my cottage, I don’t see any sign of a fire. The air smells a bit tangy still, but the smoke damage on the outer wall is gone. I’m guessing Aelia is right, and the repairs have already been completed. Do they just move real speedy, like the Flash? Or does time just sorta stand still whenever they need to get stuff done quickly? I knock on Faelan’s door again. Still no answer. After standing on the welcome mat for a few seconds and absently watching a blue jay hop around on a nearby branch, I decide that things are way too wacky in this place to give a crap about decorum. So I try the knob, and when it won’t give, I pull one of the bobby pins from my hair that Aelia used to make it look like I had a stylist instead of a pocketknife. I bend the thin metal and wriggle it into the keyhole. The lock’s got pretty old guts so it clicks almost imme

  TWELVE SAGE We’re sitting on the couch in the den, within sight of the dining room and the entry hall, waiting for Marius to come home. Aelia is looking at her nails like the secret of the universe might reside in her cuticles. I’m trying not to let the avalanche of questions in my head crush my brain. The uniformed maids are going back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room to set the table. I’m more than a little relieved when I hear footsteps echo from the back hall. Marius enters the room, and Aelia leaps from the couch and tackles him in a hug. “Daddy!” she squeals like a little girl. She leans away to look at him and asks, in all seriousness, “What’d you bring me?” He pulls her close again and kisses the top of her head. “Well, my Lia, I found some lovely Russian nesting dolls.” She droops. “I wanted Prada.” “They belonged to the last czar’s daughter. A secret note was hidden inside, written in his own hand.” She pulls from his arms. “I still say lame.” He chuckles. “O

  THIRTEEN FAELAN I open my eyes to a dim haze. I blink, trying to clear my vision, and my eyelashes catch on gauzy coating. A hibernation cocoon? Why am I in—? There’s a soft sigh in my ear, and something slides across my chest and down my bare torso. I turn my head. My cheek brushes against silk—no, it’s hair, smelling like sweetened jasmine. It’s a pixie; I can tell from the sugary scent. Her hair is long and reflects the low light with a slow, pulsing glow. Her small fingers play against my abdomen, her leg sliding against mine. “You’re awake,” she says in a dreamy voice. My pulse picks up, my skin heating. “You need to stop that hand from moving any lower, pixie.” I can’t see clearly, but I think it’s Aelia’s friend, Niamh. She giggles and her body presses into mine as she kisses my neck and whispers close to my ear, “Don’t be silly. This isn’t my first time coming out of hibernation with a son of Cernunnos. Your brother Finbar’s requested me three times.” The sound of that name mak

  FOURTEEN SAGE “The shoes you have on aren’t perfect, but they’ll do,” Aelia says, setting her wineglass on the table with a determined clink. “We should go before Daddy sends Faelan the Downer in to start you on your energy diet.” “What? Go where?” I lean back in my chair. “You need to mingle a little, I think. A few drinks at The Fitz and some time with the girls sounds about right. Maybe we can even get you laid before the boring stuff takes over.” She stands. “If you’re going to make a splash, you may as well jump.” “Your dad said we need to be careful. Going out to party isn’t careful.” Though it might be a chance to sneak away from her for a second, get space, which sounds great—but I could hurt someone, which isn’t good. “Oh brother, don’t be such a pixie,” Aelia says, coming around the table. She takes me by the arm and pulls me up. I jerk away. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” “You’re apparently some important demi and you’re acting like a pixie—who are sniveling narcs.

  FIFTEEN FAELAN After Marius leaves, I stay in the rose garden for a minute, trying to fig
ure out how to go about getting Sage to trust us. There’s more at stake here than I realized, and I started on the wrong note with the demi. I should have considered that she’d be volatile and treated her more carefully. I knew she was a daughter of Brighid, and I should have known she’d have weaknesses from being left so long among the humans without her magic, without her own kind. But it’s like I haven’t seen sense since I met the girl. I’ll pull her aside tonight. Maybe I can go over some of the lore with her, cover some basics so she feels more grounded, more familiar with her new reality before the Introduction. As I cross the yard, heading for the French doors at the back of the main house, I consider what needs to happen. I’ll have to get her to open up to me somehow. I’ll need to get her to feel a connection with me in some way that can dispel this tension between us and soften her to our

  SIXTEEN SAGE There’s a line for the bathroom, even though the crowds are still thin. It’s early, and the nightlife in LA doesn’t usually get pulsing seriously until after eleven. I settle into formation behind a girl who’s sucking on a blue lollipop. Her lips and tongue are stained purple. The white-blond ponytails on either side of her head flick at the air when she bobs to the music. She glances at me and gives me a quick grin, then goes back to her lollipop. It’s so weird to think that most of these people in here aren’t really people at all. Like, what’s this girl? A pixie? Her eyes seem teal, though, and her skin is sort of sparkly. My babysitter, Freya, settles in beside me and leans against the wall. She shoots a sneer at the girl next to me. “Wow, the dregs are out tonight.” Lollipop Girl tips her head in an endearing way. “And apparently so are the petri dishes,” she says in a giddy voice. “How is the bottom-feeding Shade Brigade these days?” Freya looks like she’s about to sc

  SEVENTEEN FAELAN I catch Aelia’s scent in the air first, then Sage’s, as I approach the building. The smell of the fire demi’s energy is strong, her power like a shimmering trail I can’t quite catch. I follow it toward the main entrance, where humans stand among several shades, all in line along the wall. There’s a selkie chatting with the bouncer at the door, distracting him as she sucks on a lollipop. A thin pixie boy slips past them into the club. I see a whisper of something in the air near the selkie, a thread of gold; I think that’s a remnant of Sage’s energy, but— “Faelan?” says a shocked female voice. “Is that really you?” My frayed nerves spark, and I don’t want to turn. I can’t be hearing right. No way. The goddess wouldn’t do that to me, not tonight. My head is already bollocks; I need to find Sage, I— A soft touch on my arm makes me look. “Astrid,” I say as my eyes fall on her. After more than three centuries without seeing her, my breath still catches: her regal stance, th