Secrets of the Sky: Book Two of the Immortals in Alameda Series Read online

  Secrets of the Sky

  Jaye Shields

  Avon, Massachusetts

  Most of all, this book is dedicated to my mom and my dad, my biggest fans, the ones who always knew I could do anything I put my mind to. Your faith in my abilities never wavered, and it gave me wings, just like the ones Sparrow has. Thank you for giving me the courage to believe in my dreams.

  To the rest of my family and all of my friends for supporting me, especially Lisa Posilico-Filipe and Amy Valentini for being my champions of the literary arena.

  And to romance fans everywhere and the wonderful ladies at Crimson Romance and Beachwalk Press.

  This edition published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

  www.crimsonromance.com

  Copyright © 2013 by Jaye Shields

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-5829-9

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5829-0

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-5830-2

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5830-6

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © 123rf.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  More From This Author

  Also Available

  Prologue

  The Highland air kissed Egret’s skin. While her sisters enjoyed Celtic music and a raucous crowd inside a Dingle pub, she went for a bike ride. Not that she didn’t enjoy a thick Guinness and a good jig, quite the contrary. But tonight something about the way the fog lingered in the sunset called to her. As her bike rolled through the scenic Irish countryside, she inhaled the scent of the sea, and fog slipped by like cold silk against her skin.

  When Egret and her sisters had decided to take a trip together, the coastal destination had been a no-brainer. Ireland was everything the Reed sisters loved: beauty, mystery, history, and lively locals who could give her rowdy sisters a run for their money. Egret was the youngest of the three, but since she wasn’t old enough to drink in the States, she was used to shying away from the crazier plans made by her sisters, Melissandra and Morgana. At twenty, she was ten years younger than Melissandra, and fifteen years younger than her oldest sister, Morgana.

  As she pedaled her rental bike up the winding forest hill, she couldn’t help but huff. She had ample curves — muscles, not so much. When she reached the top of the hill, triumph over the steep incline made her smile. But as she drove the pedal forward, her bike plummeted over a steep drop.

  Her stomach lurched and her heart lodged in her throat as the bike sped down the rocky path. The front wheel pitched forward over rocks and other forest debris. She desperately clutched the brakes, her fingers near their breaking point. Despite her efforts, the tire seized and continued skidding down the hill.

  Should she try to fall off gracefully? Yeah, maybe if she wanted to sport missing teeth for the rest of her trip.

  The decision was made for her as the steep drop came to an end, and gravity sent her flying over the handlebars. The sunset was a blur as she soared through the air, desperately trying to curl into a cannonball for minimum damage upon impact.

  Thud.

  She gasped for air as the ground hit her gut like a Paquiao one-two. Despite protecting her head with her arms, the collision was unavoidable, and her vision blurred. On the bright side, she had successfully protected her face from scratches and bruises, and her sisters would never learn of her less than graceful excursion.

  She tried to stand, but her ankle couldn’t support her weight. Okay, maybe they would notice.

  The sunset consoled her like a long-time friend. Egret gazed at the serenity stretched out before her. She had to admit, the death-drop was worth it. The sky was ten shades of pink as the sun descended upon the ocean. A thick layer of fog hovered atop the blue-green water, and she could just make out the outline of an island not too far in the distance.

  The brilliant Irish postcard before her couldn’t quite take away the pain. Egret limped forward. How the heck was she going to get back up that hill? She wasn’t.

  The cry of a seagull interrupted her thoughts. She looked toward the shrill noise and noticed a boat lodged into the rocky sand. It was cute as a button, a bright green, old-fashioned rig with wooden oars. Looks like she’d be rowing her way back since there was no way she was getting back up the steep incline.

  As she heaved her bike into the small boat, her bones ached in protest and she relished the thought of sitting down. But first she had to push the boat into the water. She shoved the vessel through the damp sand until it floated in the dark water, her arms so weak they trembled. Maybe I won’t be rowing anywhere either.

  But the boat had other plans, and it started to float away with her bike inside. She leapt into the water, the cold waves splashing against her, cutting like bitter knives. Salt water stung her wounds, bringing attention to light scratches and cuts she hadn’t been aware of. Apparently her jeans hadn’t quite broken her fall on the rocky seashore.

  Using all her might, she hefted her body into the watercraft that had quickly floated into a depth up to her waist. Injured and soaking wet. Great.

  She began to row around the shoreline, but her arms were still weak from the death grip she’d maintained during her plummet down the mountain. Although the waves had appeared small from the shoreline, they were giving her hell now. Her quaint sea vessel began drifting farther and farther away from the beach.

  Yet Egret didn’t feel as desperate as she should have in that moment. Maybe it was shock. Instead, she decided that it was the magic of Ireland that kept her in good spirits. The green rolling hills comforted her, convinced her that she was home. She’d live here someday.

  Maybe she’d live here now if she never found her way back to her sisters. She’d be a lost girl. The thought made her smile for a second, but then she realized how much she’d miss their antics.

  As she continued to row against the waves, the fog crowded her skin, a heavy, damp veil that sent shivers down her spine. The haze thickened as it surrounded her tiny boat, the light from the gorgeous sunset nearly defeated.

  N
ow desperation was setting in.

  Unable to see the shoreline, Egret stopped breathing, fear choking her lungs. Her sunset row had officially turned into a maybe-I’ll-freeze-to-death-out-here row.

  The boat lurched in the water. Stone and rubber screeched against the wood of the boat and Egret was sure she hit something. She teetered against the waves while another loud thud collided with her tiny vessel.

  A frightened scream tore through her throat. Did they have sharks in the Atlantic? She was pretty sure they did, but couldn’t imagine they were so close to shore. That is, when she’d chosen the boat, the body of water had seemed more like a lake than an ocean. Who knew how far she was from the coast now?

  A splash made Egret whip her head around just in time to see a huge paddle-shaped flipper disappear beneath the surface. She willed her lids to stay open with hopes of catching another glimpse of the marine creature assaulting her boat, but spray from the salt water stung her eyes. Hopefully it wasn’t a man-eater. Her eyes strained against the dark waters and the fog resting on top. Finally, her watery lids were rewarded.

  But she could hardly believe her eyes.

  Peeking above the surface was an ancient legend come to life. The dark, long-necked creature could only be the much sought-after Loch Ness monster. Except this wasn’t Loch Ness. The creature’s entire body came out of the water and it was easily twice the size of her boat. Settling there in the fog, it appraised her, stretching out its long neck, and gazing at her with beady black eyes. Don’t show fear, don’t show fear. She willed her sore, pained arms to row away from the massive beast.

  And then, with one motion of a giant flipper, her vessel was capsizing. The last sound she heard before descending beneath the water to join the beast, was her own scream echoing into the Irish sunset.

  Then she tasted saltwater as the frigid cold seized her whole body. She frantically grasped for the boat, but the water was dark, and fear of the large beast sent her swimming in no particular direction. She had never known this feeling before, hysteria.

  “Help!” she choked out when her head bobbed above the water.

  Her body became an anchor, and each time she surfaced, she was drawn down again, gulping more water. As she sank lower to join the ranks of Atlantis, she decided she didn’t like it.

  Hysteria and death just weren’t for her.

  • • •

  Brennus Hy-Breasal stood at the palace railing overlooking the sea. He could smell the fog begin to usher scents of lavender and heather into his kingdom. The day had come.

  Curiosity and calm anticipation settled into him. Centuries old, this special day had arrived in the kingdom many times, and he had witnessed it the most. Sometimes, nothing happened at all. But this time, he couldn’t help the feeling that his immortal life would be forever changed.

  “Sire, would you like another brew of fae flower as you watch this splendid sunset?”

  “No, thank you so much, Brietta.” He appraised the lovely older woman. She, too, was one of the few immortals living in his kingdom, made so after many years of faithful service and friendship. Her smiling eyes were now forever wrinkled, her hair eternally gray with streaks of chestnut left from her younger years. “Join me will you, Brietta? Tomorrow will be a special day.”

  “Aye Breasal, I sense it, too.” She smiled at him. “I’ve been immortal long enough now that I can feel the fog shifting, bringing two worlds in collision.”

  “You’ve always been perceptive, Brietta, even when you were mortal.” The shuffling of feet skidding to a halt caught his attention.

  “Sire!”

  The expressions approaching him were both surprised and excited. Rarely did his attendants run up to him so with such enthusiasm. After all, when you lived in a hidden kingdom, it wasn’t often that there were surprises. “What news do you have for me?”

  “Sire, the walls are down and there is a visitor already.”

  He’d sensed about the walls but was shocked that the kingdom would already host a presence. If it was a warrior, he would have to subdue him. After all, pirates, and more recently archaeologists, had been hunting his island ruthlessly.

  “It is a girl.” One of the attendants all but gasped.

  “She is alone?” Breasal couldn’t help his alarm. Had times changed so much since he was in the human realm that girls traveled the darkened ocean by themselves?

  “Sire, she was pulled from the water unconscious. It appears she had been drowning when Ness found her and brought her to our shore.”

  “Where is she now?” He immediately began following the attendants.

  “They’re trying to revive her on the shoreline.”

  Breasal and Brietta rushed down the long stone stairwell that was carved into the hillside leading from the castle. He could already make out the bright blond hair spilled onto the ground like a ray of light. Her skin was pale, but he was still too far to make out her face. Fear clutched at him. So many years without a visitor to his land, he did not want the first thing his people saw to be death.

  He ran toward the body lying on the shore. One of his subjects was pounding against her heart, desperately trying to revive the visitor. He reached her side. She was young and beautiful but not breathing. Her skin was the color of ice, left hypothermic from the freezing Atlantic.

  “Thank you, Eogan. Move aside now, and I will try.” The crowd that had gathered around the body moved back for him. He placed his hands over the young woman’s heart, and began pressing down. Once the High King of the ancient world, he knew that he still possessed a great magick inside of him. As his hands pressed against her body, he let life flow through his body and out his fingertips. The essence of joy and life seeped into her form.

  Happiness flooded him as he leaned over her form, for he knew that she would live.

  Pale lids opened to reveal eyes the color of the stormy Irish Sea. The young woman lurched forward and vomited seawater. He held his palm against her shoulder, hoping to calm the young woman.

  Even in her state, she was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that lingered in one’s dreams. But just as soon as he looked into her sapphire gaze, her lids were closing once more, and she collapsed into his arms.

  Gathering her limp form in his arms, he smiled at his people. “You have done well in saving this woman. I will take her into the castle and see to her recovery.” The crowd bowed, but their expressions could not contain their excitement.

  “Brietta, will you remove my cape and wrap it around her body, please?”

  “Of course, my king.” The woman quickly acted in removing the thick, elegant cape attached at his shoulder. The young visitor needed warmth desperately for a quick recovery. She had only so many hours or she’d be lost to her own world forever.

  Carrying her quickly up the hill to the castle, he took her into his own bedchamber. With the help of his female attendants, he removed her clothes and wrapped her in a thick dress that would warm her body. He tucked the heavy bedcovers around her body.

  “Thank you. Please have hot tea at the ready when she wakes. Not fae flower brew, something of her realm if we have any,” he instructed his servants.

  “Yes, sire.”

  Gazing at the lovely but sick young woman in his bed, his heart constricted. He knew not if he should sit in a chair and await her awakening, or crawl in next to her and offer her extra warmth.

  Deciding he’d do the latter, at least for the moment until her body warmed, he laid on the bed next to the young woman. Wrapping an arm around her, he pressed the blankets closer against her shapely form.

  She had looked so close to death when he had found her, and yet, even now, the image of her angelic face was stirring lust deep within him. He could only imagine the attraction he would feel when she opened her eyes.

  And then she did, and he knew he was fate
d to love her for all eternity.

  Chapter One

  Twenty-three years later

  Sparrow gritted her teeth and nestled her cheek against the leather chair of agony. The sensation of the sharp needle grinding against her skin never got easier. In fact, it seemed to get worse. The buzzing torture device left deep indentations in her flesh.

  “Why do you do this to me?” Her voice was a whimper, and she cringed at her own cowardice. A pained cry escaped her lips. “I thought you loved me.”

  The voice that replied back was a handsome tone dripping with a cocky quality. “You know you’ll thank me when it’s over.”

  Sparrow looked back over her bloodied shoulder and assessed the villain. “Ugh, I hate it when you’re right.”

  Turning her gaze forward once more, she tried to ignore the constant pinching of the tattoo being inked upon her skin. “You’re a sadist, you know? Who could do this to people for a living?” Her voice was teasing, but carried a desperate tone that implied she couldn’t take her mind off the pain.

  “If I’m a sadist, then you’re a masochist, because you’ve got a back full of tattoos, darling. Beautiful ones, I might add. My favorite is still the swan.” The Mohawked tattoo artist traced a nimble finger along the outline of the bird resting majestically on her lower back. Slowly, he followed the line along the elegant neck of the swan up her spine.

  “Paws off the goods, Murphy.” She glared into the mirror in front of her so that her long-time pal could get the message.

  “You look so cute when you make that face.” Dark eyes stared at Sparrow’s reflection in the mirror.

  Most guys, like Murphy, seemed to find it difficult to resist the blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty she inherited from her mother.

  “So why a peregrine falcon?”

  “You’ve never questioned my taste before.” She avoided the question like an expert.

  “That’s because all you have are majestic, feminine birds like sparrows, swans, warblers, and doves. Speaking of, you never did tell me where you got that sparrow done. That’s the only one I didn’t do.”