Read Online Dominion 4 - Ascendance by Lissa Kasey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lissa Kasey
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on the house, plumbers and things, nothing that sat on the desktop reading “Ascendance.” Had my uncle been part of the good group or the bad one? Did he know about the circle?
“There are journals here, Seiran. Your dad’s and
Charles Merth’s.” Gabe had one in hand and carefully flipped through it. “Only a couple from your dad, and they are in rough shape, but you can still read the writing.” He glanced up, looking me over, for what I don’t know. Maybe he thought I was going to break down just hearing about my dad.
I peered over the crook of his arm at the pages of the book, seeing my father’s writing, which looked just as meticulous as my own. Instead of recipes, he wrote spells, everything from how to do it to how it made him feel, and the results based on the power level of the witch performing the spell. Other pages were just random bits of life, about school, secret meetings with fellow witches, and whispers of hopes for the future. These were the words of a very young Dorien Merth. Before Jamie had been born, before he’d ever met my mother. I wanted to read every page.
“Charles has more than fifty of them. A couple per year. Maybe his son will want them?” Gabe scanned through those as well. “Not much magic in here. It sounds more like raving toward the end.”
Was that something I had to look forward to if I lived a long life? Or had something made Charles Merth very afraid—for example, a fairy ring used to kill people and spread their power to other witches?
“I want to read them all,” I whispered, my voice still a little rough from the shift. “Even my uncle’s. I want to know my family.” I grabbed the stack of my dad’s journals. “I’m sorry. I need some time.”
Gabe nodded, his face somber but curious, an unusual expression for him.
Why wasn’t he saying anything? Was he still mad? Why didn’t he rave or say sweet things? Anything? Sure, I was still hurt. Still trying to sort out the awful things he hadn’t meant to say but had said, and my feelings felt like a pot of bad all swirled with grim. Something seemed off about him, too, though what, I wasn’t quite sure.
“Take your time. You don’t have to read them all in one night. I’m going to read through some right now. Call if you need me.”
That’s all we had now, wasn’t it? Time. I fled through the tunnel back toward my room, pondering Gabe and the words Max had spoken to me. The old have a hard time feeling anything, he had said, so sometimes they created trouble just to feel something. That sounded so crazy. Yet I knew when a cuddle was all I needed to make the world right. Those times, and the times I just wanted to run from the pain, those were moments when the numbness faded. What if I was always numb? What length would I go to just to feel? Without thinking much, the answer was a lot.
Feeling somewhat uncomfortable in the room with the tunnel in it, I dressed, then headed down the hall to Jamie’s room. He wasn’t there. Had he gone out? Why hadn’t he said anything to me? Gabe hadn’t followed me out of the tunnel. Was he really going to read when we were still fighting?
Argh! This was all such a mess.
My phone beeped with a new text. Oddly enough, it was from Sam.
Can we talk?
I blinked at it a few times, feeling weirdly mixed about what to do. Maybe we could hash out whatever made me hate him. Or maybe we’d just yell at each other a bit. It had to be better than the silence.
I sent back, Where?
He sent me a link with a map to a park that was in
walking distance. Was he staying nearby? I loaded up the journals into a backpack I’d found and headed through the night. The air felt a little cooler, but still so much better than the cold Minnesota weather I had left behind.
Chapter 9
T
HE park was a typical expanse of grass and trees, a playground to one end, benches on the other. It smelled unused, like earth, soil, and pollen, heaven to my nose. Sam sat on one of the benches
“There are journals here, Seiran. Your dad’s and
Charles Merth’s.” Gabe had one in hand and carefully flipped through it. “Only a couple from your dad, and they are in rough shape, but you can still read the writing.” He glanced up, looking me over, for what I don’t know. Maybe he thought I was going to break down just hearing about my dad.
I peered over the crook of his arm at the pages of the book, seeing my father’s writing, which looked just as meticulous as my own. Instead of recipes, he wrote spells, everything from how to do it to how it made him feel, and the results based on the power level of the witch performing the spell. Other pages were just random bits of life, about school, secret meetings with fellow witches, and whispers of hopes for the future. These were the words of a very young Dorien Merth. Before Jamie had been born, before he’d ever met my mother. I wanted to read every page.
“Charles has more than fifty of them. A couple per year. Maybe his son will want them?” Gabe scanned through those as well. “Not much magic in here. It sounds more like raving toward the end.”
Was that something I had to look forward to if I lived a long life? Or had something made Charles Merth very afraid—for example, a fairy ring used to kill people and spread their power to other witches?
“I want to read them all,” I whispered, my voice still a little rough from the shift. “Even my uncle’s. I want to know my family.” I grabbed the stack of my dad’s journals. “I’m sorry. I need some time.”
Gabe nodded, his face somber but curious, an unusual expression for him.
Why wasn’t he saying anything? Was he still mad? Why didn’t he rave or say sweet things? Anything? Sure, I was still hurt. Still trying to sort out the awful things he hadn’t meant to say but had said, and my feelings felt like a pot of bad all swirled with grim. Something seemed off about him, too, though what, I wasn’t quite sure.
“Take your time. You don’t have to read them all in one night. I’m going to read through some right now. Call if you need me.”
That’s all we had now, wasn’t it? Time. I fled through the tunnel back toward my room, pondering Gabe and the words Max had spoken to me. The old have a hard time feeling anything, he had said, so sometimes they created trouble just to feel something. That sounded so crazy. Yet I knew when a cuddle was all I needed to make the world right. Those times, and the times I just wanted to run from the pain, those were moments when the numbness faded. What if I was always numb? What length would I go to just to feel? Without thinking much, the answer was a lot.
Feeling somewhat uncomfortable in the room with the tunnel in it, I dressed, then headed down the hall to Jamie’s room. He wasn’t there. Had he gone out? Why hadn’t he said anything to me? Gabe hadn’t followed me out of the tunnel. Was he really going to read when we were still fighting?
Argh! This was all such a mess.
My phone beeped with a new text. Oddly enough, it was from Sam.
Can we talk?
I blinked at it a few times, feeling weirdly mixed about what to do. Maybe we could hash out whatever made me hate him. Or maybe we’d just yell at each other a bit. It had to be better than the silence.
I sent back, Where?
He sent me a link with a map to a park that was in
walking distance. Was he staying nearby? I loaded up the journals into a backpack I’d found and headed through the night. The air felt a little cooler, but still so much better than the cold Minnesota weather I had left behind.
Chapter 9
T
HE park was a typical expanse of grass and trees, a playground to one end, benches on the other. It smelled unused, like earth, soil, and pollen, heaven to my nose. Sam sat on one of the benches
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