Storm and Fury (The Harbinger 1)

Dez and Nicolai sat directly across from us, on the opposite side of the wide table. There was a chair empty on the other side of Nicolai, and if I’d had any hopes that Zayne would show—which I didn’t—I would’ve been disappointed.

He wasn’t coming to the ceremony.

Not that I was surprised. He’d said this wasn’t his kind of thing, and if he’d caught wind of me showing, I couldn’t blame him for being anywhere but here.

I felt like such an idiot—an idiot who didn’t understand personal boundaries. Blowing out an exaggerated breath, I told myself it didn’t matter.

The Wardens from DC would be gone tomorrow, leaving with the reinforcements they needed. Everything would return to normal in the morning—well, as normal as things could be, but with Zayne gone, I’d stop... I’d stop wanting what I couldn’t have.

As I toyed with the edge of my napkin, my gaze shifted back to the spirit. He was still standing behind Dez and Nicolai, as if he were a part of their conversation.

It was so bizarre. The spirit had a vague sense of familiarity about him, but I’d never seen the older man before. Was he connected to Dez and Nicolai somehow? Or was it someone else here?

Either way, as I cautiously watched him, I knew that he’d definitely seen the light and crossed over. His skin tone was a healthy gold, and if he wasn’t doing that flickering thing, he’d look human, which was why, sometimes with my eyes, I often mistook spirits for living, breathing people.

He was a handsome man with a head full of reddish blond hair that reminded me of a lion. He was big and broad of shoulder, and I imagined if he were alive, he would’ve drawn the attention of everyone here.

Had he been a Warden? It wasn’t impossible. I’d seen a few Warden spirits before.

Someone laughed.

Pulling my gaze from the spirit, I glanced at the head of the table. Thierry was meeting with someone, so the seat was empty. Matthew was sitting there beside Jada and her mother, his reddish hair a fiery sight in the bright lights of the hall.

I looked back at the spirit. He was staring at the entrance, brows knitted.

“What do you keep looking at, Trinity?” Dez asked.

Oh, crap.

Apparently I wasn’t being as inconspicuous as I thought. Since I didn’t know if Nicolai or Zayne had filled Dez in the whole I see dead people thing, I forced a smile. “Nothing. Just dazed out.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Is the dinner that boring?”

I pursed my lips. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

Dez chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. “Not in the slightest.”

Grinning, I glanced at the stage. Thierry had already given his speech, toting the skills and successes of those Wardens receiving the Accolade. We still had the trainers’ speeches to sit through, and then there’d be dancing.

Misha draped his arm along the back of my chair and angled his body toward mine, lowering his chin. “What are you looking at?” he whispered.

I lowered my gaze. “You don’t want to know.”

“A ghost? Peanut?”

I shook my head.

He was quiet for a moment. “A spirit?”

“Yep.”

“Interesting,” he murmured, looking to where the spirit had been but now was gone.

What the...?

Scanning the large, brightly lit room and the marble-adorned, cream-colored walls, I finally spotted him in the center of the room.

Seizing the opportunity for distraction, I scooted my chair out. “I’ll be right back.”

Misha gripped the arms of his chair, about to rise, but I stopped him.

“You don’t need to come,” I told him, aware that both Dez and Nicolai were watching us. “I’m going to the restroom.”

A look of doubt crossed his face, but he sat back down, knowing if he followed now, it would look superweird. I grinned at him, imagining the string of curses he was coming up with as I nodded at the two Wardens across from me.

I was careful not to walk into the tables the spirit drifted through while the occupants were straightening their dishes and candles, expressing their confusion in exclamations.

I picked up my pace, passing two warriors in training waiting by the doors. Out in the much more softly lit hallway, I looked both ways. There were people out here chatting in small groups. It took a few moments, but I saw the spirit once more at the end of the hall, by the doors that led to the garden. A second later, he drifted right through them.

Clutching the skirt of my dress so I didn’t trip, I made my way down the hall and stopped at the doors. The garden was lit only by warm string lights and torches. What was worse for my eyesight than an extremely bright room?

Minimal to no light.

I sighed, using my hip to open the door, and stepped onto the veranda into the warm, early-June air. My steps were cautious, as I remembered that there were stairs. My depth perception wasn’t the greatest at night. Slowly, I made my way down to the paved walkway.

I didn’t hear anyone outside as I followed the path, wondering if I would even be able to see the spirit out here.

Passing what appeared to be several empty benches, I followed the curve of the path and was surprised when I discovered it flowed into an open area that was well-lit by several old-fashioned-looking lamps. There was a statue in the middle, a battle angel lifting a sword high with one arm and gripping the head of a demon in the other hand.

I walked around the statue only to draw up short when I spotted the spirit on the other side. My heart gave a little jump, like it always did when I was this close to a ghost or spirit, no matter how many times I’d seen one.

He was staring at the statue, and now that we were closer, I couldn’t shake the familiarity of his features. Maybe I had seen him before, when he’d been alive.

Letting go of the skirt of my gown, I glanced around. I didn’t hear anyone else out here, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t.

I bit down on my thumbnail, curiosity leading me into a state of recklessness.

I ignored the way my stomach churned. It was an odd reaction to the presence of the spirit, one I didn’t understand, so I shoved that aside to dwell on later—

“Hello,” the spirit said.

Jolted, I took a step back as the spirit turned to me and, from the waist down, became transparent. I felt my eyes go wide. “You know I can see you?”

“Why would you think that I wouldn’t?”

“Because you’re dead?” I suggested.

One side of his lips twitched into a half grin that raised tiny goose bumps all over my arms. “Yes, but I’m not the first spirit you’ve seen.”

“No,” I said. “Not even remotely. How do you know that?”

The spirit studied me for a moment. “I just do.”

“That’s a vague answer,” I said. “How about I ask you another. You’ve crossed over, right?” When he nodded, I wrapped my arms around my waist against the cool mountain breeze rolling through the garden, stirring the leaves. “But you’re back.”

“I am.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, I prodded. “Why are you back?”

The faint smile faded as he looked up at the statue. “I wanted to see.”

My brows knitted together. “See what?”

Several moments passed before he said, “See how badly I messed up.”

Understanding flickered through me. This spirit was back because he regretted something he’d done or should’ve done, or something he’d said or wished he’d said.

I could help him with this.

“You’re a Warden, aren’t you?” I asked.

The spirit nodded. “And you...you are not a Warden.”

“No.”

He looked down at me, his face almost going transparent. “I know who you are.”

Startled by that statement, I didn’t know what to say. I’d never come across a spirit or a ghost who knew who I was. Had he lived here? Maybe when I was younger? “You do?”

“Being dead makes some things so much clearer while other things not so much.” He faced me fully, his features becoming sharper, clearer. “Now I know why I came back right now, at this moment.”

A shiver curled its way down my spine.

“Funny how fate has a way of righting itself against all odds, isn’t it?”

Okay, this was the most bizarre conversation I’d ever had with a spirit, and I’d had some really out-there conversations, but even more out there—wasn’t that what Peanut had overheard Thierry saying?

Before I could ask him what he meant, his features were suddenly marked with such heavy sadness that I could feel it in my own chest. A second later, he scattered into thin air. My brows rose as the breeze lifted a strand of my hair and tossed it across my face.

I waited.

He didn’t piece back together.

Frowning, I unfolded my arms. “Why did you disappear?”

“I cannot fathom why anyone would disappear on you.”

15

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest at the sound of a deep voice laden with amusement and a hint of sarcasm. The hem of my gown whirled around my ankles as I spun around.

“Zayne,” I said, my eyes going so wide I was sure I looked like a squeezed bug.

He looked regal, standing a few feet from me, dressed in the ceremonial garb of a warrior. White linen pants and matching, sleeveless tunic. His hair was loose, brushing his shoulders.

I was so shocked by his sudden presence that I just stood there, staring at him, and all I could think about was the fact that I’d kissed him. And maybe—maybe he had kissed me back, but even if that was true, he most definitely had torn himself away from me as if I were on fire. He hadn’t lost himself to the whirling, chaotic desire that had been pounding through me.

One side of his mouth curved up as I continued to openly gawk at him. “Are you okay?” A moment passed. “I’m starting to get a little concerned.”

Heat swept across my face as I snapped out of my stupor. I found my voice. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”