Chapter Twenty

Amber finished tying the laces on her boots, then straightened and stood. She slipped into Damian’s coat—the black, wool trench coat that she’d worn most of yesterday. The weight of it hung heavy on her shoulders, but it was welcomed. Oddly, it provided comfort, as if the material itself offered her a shield against whatever they faced.

She took a deep breath and inhaled the light scent of pine that lingered in the thick weave. She barely resisted the urge to close her eyes and enjoy the images that flashed in her mind of what had happened between them last night.

She’d given him her virginity.

A fact she’d finally had the time to process and ponder while she’d showered and prepared for the day. The silence had extended between her and Damian, not exactly uncomfortable, but no longer easy and natural as it had been when they’d first woke. Apprehension had settled like a sharp-quilled porcupine filled with all the questions and doubts that threatened to stab them both.

Still, she had no regrets. She’d given him her virginity willingly and without question. It almost seemed like she’d been waiting just for him. For that moment. To give away what most women today gave away without real thought or care. It’s not that she had thought of her virginity as a prize to be had or even that special of a thing. Truly, until last night, it had made her more of a pariah than anything. But now, she understood why she had waited. Why her aunt had kept her so sheltered.

For whatever reason, it had been meant for Damian.

Yeah, and when did she get so philosophical? Logic would say it just happened. But if she dug down and listened to the energy, as she was slowly allowing herself to do, and believed as she’d told Damian she did, then it was telling her it was important that Damian was the one she’d given it to. There was a reason.

But why? Yet another big question on the ever-growing list.

“Are you ready?” Damian’s deep voice pulled her out of her thoughts. He stood waiting by the door they both assumed was an exit. She sucked in her breath and held down the flash of desire that hit her deep in her core. The ends of his hair were still wet from his recent shower, and the light beard shadow that lined his jaw only added to the dark, sexy look. Throw in the bare chest with the holey jacket and jeans, a barrage of weapons strapped to him and he had the bad boy image nailed.

And he was hers.

The realization warmed her. Gathering the coat around her, she brushed her hair over her shoulder, flattened the violet scarf against the wool and mentally prepared herself.

“So what’s next?”

In answer, he turned to the door and twisted the knob. To her surprise, it clicked open.

“Really? We could have been out of here last night?”

“It looks like it. But where would we have gone? For whatever reason, we were safe here and we got the rest we needed.”

“Ah, so right,” came a voice from the other side of the door.

Damian whipped the door open to reveal the older man from the previous night. Instinctively, Amber placed her hand over the stone and took a step back. Damian, instantly in protector mode, shifted to place himself between her and the man.

The man was dressed much the same as he’d been last night in a white silk, Oriental-style jacket trimmed in embroidered, gold designs and loose matching pants. A welcoming smile curved his lips, but the intensity in his dark eyes remained.

“I hope you found things comfortable last night.” The man gestured toward the room. “Breakfast is waiting if you will follow me.” He turned and started down the hall without waiting for their response.

Damian looked back at her, a question in his eyes. Giving a small shrug, Amber stepped forward and set her hand in his offered one. His face softened just a touch before his hand gripped hers. Together, they exited the room and followed the man.

“Stay close to me,” Damian murmured.

As if she would run away at that point. “Yeah. You don’t have to worry about that.”

The man led them to a small dining room that contained a low table made in another shade of dark wood and was appointed with Oriental-themed statues, pictures and pillows. Small lights were placed strategically around the room, shedding a soft glow on the table of food. The same dark red carpet from the bedroom cushioned the sounds of their shoes and added a hush to the surroundings that boarded on oppressive. Or maybe it was the absence of windows once again that made the room seem so close.

The lack of outside light was completely disorienting. She hadn’t realized how much she relied on the light to gauge the time of day or night. Or even the location. She was assuming it was sometime in the morning, but without a watch or external reference, it was hard to be certain.

“Please, have a seat.” The man knelt and took a seat on one of the pillows at the head of the long table. Delicious scents drifted up from the bowls and plates that covered the table, and Amber’s stomach clenched in anticipation. But she waited for Damian to take the lead. Although the other man seemed friendly, she didn’t trust that impression.

“Why are you helping us?” Damian demanded without taking a seat. “What do you want from us?”

The man tilted his head in a look of contemplation. “As doubting as your brother, I see. A trait that must run in the family.”

“My brother?” Damian tensed, his hand tightening around Amber’s. “What are you talking about? How did you know Khristos?”

The man smiled, then turned his attention to the table. He lifted a small teapot and gracefully poured the liquid into a tiny cup. “So quickly you assume it is Khristos I speak of. That says much.” Small tendrils of steam curled up from the cup as he set the pot down without making a sound. “You do have other brothers, or do you forget them in your obsession over Khristos?”

Amber felt the tight shot of guilt and pain pierce through her as if it was her own. She gasped, the unaccustomed feeling of knowing so intimately what Damian felt was a complete shock. “What are you playing at, Ancient One?” The question shot out of Damian in a tight string of barely contained anger.

The man gestured to the table. “Join me and I will tell you want you need to know.” He reached to a bowl that contained a tantalizing mixture of meat, eggs and rice. “Manners dictate that I should wait for you, but my stomach takes precedence over your indecision.”

The casualness as he went about serving food onto his plate was so diametrically opposite to the strain that bound Damian and her, it was almost laughable. Making a decision, Amber took a step toward the table. She tugged on Damian’s hand, a silent urge for him to follow. The man had answers and they had questions. Maybe they could find what they needed and, if nothing else, they would have a meal.

The man looked up, his eyebrows lifting. “So it is the phoenix who guides the dragon in this phase.” He smiled then nodded once. “An equal with strength and courage to match the mighty dragon. Once again, I am humbled by the wisdom of the energy.”

Amber paused, taken back by the strange words of the man. The phoenix? She should be used to such talk by now as that was all she’d heard of late. But it was still hard to hear herself referred to with such positive, strong adjectives.

“Please, have a seat.” The man indicated a set of pillows next to him. “I promise I do not bite.” A tint of mischief flashed in his eyes with the light teasing of his words.

Taking a steadying breath, Amber pulled deep and trusted what she felt. This man did not mean them harm. To date, he had not hurt her if she didn’t count the giving of the stone to her as an act of injury. Damian still held back, the mistrust mingling with the residual guilt that had festered within him for so long she doubted he even recognized it as a separate emotion.

“Who are you?” Damian asked, his voice cool, but void of the accusations and confrontations of before. He allowed her to guide him forward and followed her lead as she knelt on a pillow and took a seat at the table. The fact that he let Amber take the seat between the two men attested to how distracted he was.

“I am one who has seen much, experienced more, and has lived far longer than expected,” the man answered with a smile. “As you already sensed, Damianos, I am an Ancient. I have lived through thousands of cycles of life, death, and rebirth. I have witnessed the rise and fall of many great nations, participated in the wars, influenced great minds and silently cried as I watched the circle repeat itself again and again.”

“Do you have a name?” Amber asked.

He reached over and handed her a large bowl of food, his silent offer accepted as she shifted a portion of the egg and meat mixture onto her plate. Only after she had passed the food to Damian did the man answer her.

“My name is not as important as what I have to tell you. You should focus on what is coming and worry less about the inconsequential details.”

Damian set the bowl of food down and returned his attention to the Ancient. “If you do not refer to Khristos, then which brother did you mean?”

“Your restraint is admirable,” the man said, acknowledging Damian’s tight control on the anger she felt simmering within him. “It is your youngest brother, Loukianos, that I refer to. The brother you’ve never met.”

Damian stilled beside her. “How do you know Louk?”

“It was he who started this path. He and his mate Airiana. The Two to start it all.”

“His mate?” Surprise and doubt were heavy in the rise of the two words.

The man inclined his head. “Yes, his mate. A beautiful Shifter dragon who has brought great hope to the Energen world.”

Damian’s fist slammed on the table, causing Amber to jump along with the china dishes that clanked back in a chime of protest. “You lie.”

“Do I?” the Ancient calmly challenged. “It is she who brought back the beauty and power of the winged ones to the Energens. The joining of Airiana and Louk has once again procured the line of the winged dragons as our allies against Gog and the Shifters.”

“No one in my family would ever join with a Shifter. They are all vile, evil creatures,” Damian snarled, his face contorted in a mask of loathing and denial.

The Ancient glanced briefly at Amber then took a bite of food, evidently unphased by Damian’s outburst. The ends of his long mustache bobbed up and down in a rhythmic dance as he slowly chewed his food. He swallowed, a leisurely act of time stretched out as a silent refute against the accusations.

Finally, he spoke. “Really? If I listen to the energy, if I observe the telling mark on your hands, I know that’s exactly what you did last night.”

“What?” Amber cried.

“Again you lie.”

Their rebuttals overrode each other as they both scrambled to comprehend what the man just said. Reflexively, Amber covered the mark with her other hand, hiding the image that made the man say such a thing. The dragon responded with a sharp roar of anger while her bird screeched in a blatant cry of upset. Damian shot her a sharp look, and she realized he felt the same from the mark on his hand. Not only were the marks joined, but their emotions were joined within them as well.

What she felt, he felt.

The Ancient watched them, his deep brown eyes narrowing as he processed their reactions. “I only speak the truth, but it is nothing to be ashamed of. Things are not always as they appear—as you should well know, Damian.”

The color dropped from Damian’s face and Amber grasped his hand, projecting her support into him. He looked at her, confusion and questions fighting for dominance in his deep blue eyes before he pulled his hand from her grip.

She let him go even though the silent rebuke stung, sharp and painful as a dragon’s bite. Cold immediately replaced his warmth, sinking to her bones and winding around her racing heart. But she held his gaze and kept her back stiff. She had no idea what the man meant or what Damian was thinking, but she did know that she was good. That she was not the possessor of evil. Never would she believe that.

And, most importantly, she would not cower under their judgments.

Damian ripped his gaze from her and shot an equally accusing glare at the man sitting calmly at the head of the table. “Explain yourself, Ancient. Is this some trick? Yet another ploy to disparage me? To make me an outcast in a world that already despises all that I am?”

“Of course not. You are the Chosen One. You and you alone hold the weight of many on your shoulders. Your choices, the decisions you make right now are more important than what is contained in this room.” The man’s voice rose in volume and tone as he continued. “Think, old one. Feel once again. Trust in what you know. If you do not, then we are all lost.”

“How can I?” Damian challenged right back, leaning toward the man and forcing Amber to tilt away from the table. “All I know is distrust. All I know are lies and false accusations that have left me bloody and bare. How do I trust when it has slapped me in the face every time I have attempted to do so? Tell me that, Ancient. Tell me why I should trust when it has never been given to me?”

“But it has, you fool. You have it right now if you do not throw it away.”

“From a Shifter?” Damian spat out the word like it was a vile piece of poisonous food. “You just said that’s what she was. Why would I want her trust when it is the Shifters who have taken everything from me?”

Amber winced, the angry, cruel words cutting her more sharply than one of his blades. She snapped her head around to stare at Damian in open disdain. How quickly he changed his tune on the words of one old man.

“You hypocrite,” she fired at Damian, her anger burning over the pain, forcing her to fight back. “Last night you denied all accusations that I was a Shifter. You desired me and possessed my body without regrets. I slept with you in a bond of trust. But today, you willingly judge me with no more than his words.” She stabbed a finger toward the Ancient. “Judge not lest ye be judged, Damian.”

Amber fumed, her anger disguising the shock that reverberated through her at her own words. She had no idea where the Biblical verse came from, how it spouted from her mouth without thought when she was not a religious person by nature.

“Oh, I’ve been more than judged, Amber,” Damian said with an icy calm that belied the fire of his energy. The energy that hissed within herself. “I’ve been tried, persecuted and punished for things I’ve never done. I’ve been tricked and fooled. I’ve lived a thousand years of pain that I was an idiot to ignore for you—someone who lied to me.”

“Why do you think she lied?” the Ancient interceded, his sharp voice breaking through the hostility.

Damian’s attention cut to the man. “If she is a Shifter, how could she not know?”

“It was you who wore the mark of a Shifter, not she,” the man countered. “Yet you deny being one. Is it not possible that there are parts of her even she does not know about? That there is more at play than what is simply perceived?”

Strained silence followed his question. The food was forgotten as the three table occupants faced off in a battle of mute strength. Each of them struggled for what they believed in the face of strong opposition. The energy shifted around them in slow coils of tightening hostility. Mistrust disguised as anger pressed against Amber in a sickening hold that threatened to choke the air from her lungs.

After a long moment, Damian surged to his feet to pace the perimeter of the room. His hands were clenched on his hips in a pose that Amber now recognized as one filled with indecision and frustration.

Her bird sympathized with him and urged her to follow. However, she was just as angry and confused as he was. His actions hurt far worse than if he’d struck her across the face.

Amber closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose, seeking a clarity that had eluded her since that night in January when that man who sat so calmly at the end of the table gave her the stone. The object that started it all and led her to where she was at that moment. Opening her eyes, she returned to the beginning.

“Why did you give me the stone?”

In contrast to the atmosphere of the room, the man smiled. “Because you are the Marked One—the one in the world who can decide which way the battle will turn. The stone belongs to you. I was only holding it until it was needed. Now is that time.”

She licked her lips. “Do I dare ask why?”

His face became serious, all pretense of joviality dropping with the curve of his lips and the stiffening of his spine. “Because the dragon is awake.”

“I don’t understand.”

“With the coming together of The Two, he stirred within his cage, his thousand years of slumber completed. A multitude of elements have collided at this exact moment in time to make it happen. But those are irrelevant to what is next. The Year of the Dragon is far more important than any suspect—by its end, the dragon will be free. There is little we can do to stop that end, but there is much we can do to stop his rise.”

The man’s words only confused Amber more. “What dragon?”

The Ancient shifted his gaze to Damian, who still paced behind her. “Damian. Tell her what dragon I speak of.”

Damian cursed under his breath before she felt his irritated movements grow still. She kept her back to him, unwilling to show him anything else.

“The dragon he refers to is the Shifter leader, Gog,” Damian stiffly answered.

“Ah, so you do understand the importance of where we are,” the Ancient said to him.

“If what you say is true, then of course I do.”

“And why would I lie?” the man questioned. “If you let yourself feel, if you believed as I said, then you would know what I say is true, without me having to tell you. In fact, I think you do—only you refuse to accept it.”

A low growl echoed through the room. A frustration that Amber could empathize with. “But how? The dragon has been trapped in his metal cage deep within the earth’s crust for as long as I’ve been ostracized.”

The Ancient tilted his head. “Did you hear what you just said? Think, old one.”

She knew the instant understanding dawned within Damian. The energy exploded within her in a combustible mixture of disbelief, denial and rage. The emotions so potent her spine arched and her head snapped back as if she’d received a sharp kick between her shoulder blades. Even if she didn’t get the importance of what was happening, it was clear that Damian did.

“No.” The denial fired from Damian with a hot blast of sizzling energy. The angry waves rolled through the room in a fit of frustration. “It’s not possible.”

“Why not?” the man challenged. “Because you don’t want it to be? Denial will not change the facts.”

Another harsh curse, a sharp thump of a fist hitting the wall echoed around the small space. “All this time and no one bothered to tell me. A thousand years of opportunity and not once did anyone see fit to let me in on what was happening?” Bitterness tinged every word, every accusation that Damian hurled at the man.

“To tell you would have changed the necessary outcome. Knowledge would have changed you, and that could not be risked.” The Ancient rose from his seat in a graceful lifting of weight. Amber shifted to follow his path as he made his way to stand before Damian, undeterred by the hostility that radiated from the taller man. “You have endured much so that you can understand much. Empathy built from experience is far more powerful than that gained from words. You are but one of the sacrifices we had to make in order to trap the dragon in the cage.”

“So me being condemned and ostracized for a crime I didn’t commit, that was all planned?”

The other man had the grace to look away before he once again met Damian’s gaze. “The situation presented an opportunity that was seized upon. But it was you who had the grace to walk away despite what you knew to be true. You who forsook all that you were born into for the betterment of the race.”

“How could my leaving hold such power?”

“To challenge the verdict and stay would have cause great strife and unrest within the Energen community. Sides would have formed, battles fought until the good energy was tainted with the very evil Gog fosters. In leaving, you let the good continue. You willingly sacrificed everything that was dear to you and in doing so saved the rest.”

It was Damian’s turn to look away. “How could you know I would react that way? Was that manipulated too?”

“Your actions are your own, Damian,” the Ancient answered. “You know we are not powerful enough to influence that. It is time for you to let go of the guilt you’ve harbored since Khristos’ death. Let his actions be his own.”

Damian cringed, physically wincing away from the words. “And what about Khristos?” he bit out weakly. “Was he also a sacrifice?”

The Ancient gave a slow incline of his head. “Yes, unfortunately.”

Pain—Damian’s—ratcheted through Amber, starting in her chest and pounding outward until it blanketed her in weary misery. Damian stumbled backward until his back smacked the wall and he sagged into the solid mass. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his body a mix of tense nerves and sagging muscle.

The Ancient reached out and rested a hand on Damian’s shoulder. Whether out of exhaustion or defeat, Damian did not pull away from the touch.

“It is much for one family to endure. To give up and sacrifice,” the Ancient sympathized. “It was that sacrifice, one made out of pure honor and love, one given not out of obligation, but from a willingness to do right—to do good—that provided the energy required to bind the bars and hold the beast.”

“Who knew?” Damian asked weakly. “Who else knows the truth?”

The Ancient pulled his touch away and clasped his hands before him. “There are only a few or else the power wouldn’t have worked.”

“My father?”

“No,” the man said with a slow shake of his head.

Damian’s eyes squeezed tightly closed, the pain rippling across his face with a constricting of muscles that traveled down his arms and pooled in the tight clench of his fists.

“Who was the girl?” The question was asked through the stiff hold of his lips. “Why did Khristos kill her?”

The Ancient stepped away from Damian and moved across the room until he was once again facing both of them. Amber pushed to her feet, her legs weak under the weight of the revelations, but she refused to be at a disadvantage. She stood separated from Damian by a few feet, but once again the deep chasm of doubt and mistrust gaped between them.

The man waited until they both looked at him before he finally spoke. “She was a possible Marked One, a descendant of the bloodline that holds the latent Energen gene and the same one from which Amber is birthed. The last bloodline of the ancient Moshup, an Energen who helped the natives after the Energen city was built in what is now called North America.”

The repeated words of the shaman crashed into Amber, forcing her to accept them for what they might be. The truth. The latest disclosure numbed her body and mind until she no longer felt anything.

“Khristos made the right choice when he chose to sacrifice the woman instead of letting the Shifters take her,” the man finished. “Her bloodline was too rich with power to allow the Shifters to gain control of it.”

“But what does all this have to do with me?” Amber’s weariness drifted unwanted into her voice.

“It’s all about choice, young one,” the Ancient said patiently. “We all make choices every day that impact the outcome of our lives. It just happens that the choice you make will affect the lives of many more than you can comprehend.”

“Again, why me?” The sudden weight that pressed upon her shoulders was as physical as a fifty-pound bag of sand being strapped around her neck. Once again, she felt the darkness creeping in, the cold surging through to stoke the fear.

The man looked her over with eyes that held more knowledge and wisdom than existed on the physical plane. Eyes much like the tribal shaman’s at home, only the Ancient’s eyes contained ages of understanding that defied logic. Those eyes moved to Damian before he finally spoke to her.

“Because you, Amber, are blooded of both Energen and Shifter. A dual status held by no other. A power of positive and negative that can flow either way.” He paused before continuing slowly. “Your father was a Shifter. A man who wooed your mother until she fell for his false words and charms. It was the Shifters’ attempt to dilute the bloodline and end the threat of the Marked One. But their attempt backfired when you were born with the exact qualities the energy had been waiting for.”

The answer stopped her thoughts and froze her heart as none other could. How could that be true?

 “My entire life I have been raised under the perception that I am a normal human with just enough Native American blood to allow me to claim ancestry to the Wampanoag Indian Tribe. A distinction I didn’t even relish.” A small snort of derision left her nostrils. “As the outcast bastard of the tribe’s disgrace, I was subjugated to ridicule and scorn for as long as I can remember. And now you’re telling me that all the garbage about me being the harbinger of destruction that his people”—she pointed at Damian—“have accused me of is also true?”

Unwanted, undesired like always, the tears glistened on the edges of her eyes. She wished it was all false. That everything that had been said was a lie. But a part of her knew it wasn’t. That denial would no longer help her.

“No, child,” the Ancient soothed. “I am not accusing you of that. You alone contain a balance within you that has the power to change the equilibrium of the world. There is more to you than most know. Than you know. But you must accept that in order to use it. In order to do what is needed.”

“And what do I need to do?”

“You will need to discover that on your own,” he said kindly, his soft words floating across the room on a wind of patience. “Knowledge gained in discovery is a lesson not forgotten.”

“And if I don’t want to discover it?”

The Ancient’s eyes softened in a look of understanding. “Sometimes discovery is forced upon us despite our wishes to remain clueless. Knowing does not always bring clarity. Likewise, understanding does not make a task easier.”

She resisted the urge to scoff at the man’s cryptic words, which provided more of a puzzle than a solid answer. She needed to think. Time to process everything. So much had been said and revealed that she no longer had any grip on what she felt or wanted. Her world was out of control, a feeling that tore at her orderly life and left her floundering. Even her connection to Damian was now in doubt.

“I want to go home,” she demanded, surprised at the strength in her voice. But going home was exactly what she needed. Hard, even strides moved her until she stood directly before the Ancient. “You have the power. Send me home. That is the choice I am making. The one that is right for me. Send me home. Now.”

The Ancient tilted his head, his long mustache swaying with the movement as he contemplated her demand. Behind her, Damian said nothing. Made no move to stop her.

“If you concentrate, you can do that yourself,” the Ancient finally said.

“I don’t want to concentrate,” she fired back as she took another step closer. “I’m tired. I’ve heard enough of the wild stories and accusations about me and my life. About who I am. I did not choose this path. You forced it on me with that damn stone. What I do from now on is up to me.” She took a deep breath, an attempt to temper her rising anger. “This is my choice. I am not your pawn to be wielded as you wish.”

“Are you sure this is the choice you want to make, child? To leave is to forsake the protection I am providing.”

She turned back to the man who had stood by her through it all and spoke one word filled with question and her last thread of hope. “Damian?”

His cold paralysis encircled her, the dark edges fighting to creep in around the cracks that extended and widened in her battered soul. The burn of rejection deepened as Damian remained immobile, his silence continuing.

She turned back to the Ancient. “Send me home.”

After another long pause, the man finally consented. “As you wish.”

Damian inhaled sharply, the slight hiss snaking through the air to wrap around her aching heart. The two marks cried out in unified denial as the dragon’s tail slowly uncoiled its tight hold on the white bird. The separation burned against the sundering of two forces that should never be parted.

The energy rejected her decision; the stone fired in angry refusal against her chest, trying desperately to overpower her demand. But it didn’t have the strength to change her will. To force a choice she didn’t want to make. The energy could only respond to her desire, not manipulate or control it.

The clarity of that understanding only strengthened Amber’s resolve until she felt the prickling sensation unfold from within her to encompass her.

Remember, child, sacrifice is but an act of giving if done with the right intentions. The parting words whispered in her mind before disappointment and loss descended as she dissipated away. To her surprise, the raging pain was still palpable despite her molecular state.

But it was a pain she would endure. One she had battled before and survived.

Only it had never burned as deep and all-consuming as it did right then.