Edge of Light (Armor of Magic Book 3) Read online

  EDGE OF LIGHT

  Armor of Magic Series

  Book 3

  by Simone Pond

  Ktown Waters Publishing

  Copyright © 2016 Simone Pond

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Ktown Waters Publishing, Los Angeles, CA.

  ISBN-13: 978-1536917925

  ISBN-10: 1536917923

  Cover Design: Rebecca Frank

  Editing: Peter Stier Jr., Emily Nemchick, Kat Deloian

  Formatting: Polgarus Studio

  Table of Contents

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  eighteen

  nineteen

  twenty

  twenty-one

  twenty-two

  twenty-three

  twenty-four

  twenty-five

  twenty-six

  twenty-eight

  twenty-eight

  twenty-nine

  thirty

  thirty-one

  thirty-two

  thirty-three

  thirty-four

  thirty-five

  thirty-six

  thirty-seven

  thirty-eight

  thirty-nine

  forty

  forty-one

  Author’s Note

  Books in this Series

  Other Books by Simone Pond

  one

  I must be dead. Or dreaming. Or hallucinating.

  The couple standing over me in that blazing, arid desert resembled my parents, who I hadn’t seen in over four years. Or maybe it was a mirage; a desperate manifestation by a survival mechanism in my subconscious to provide some comfort in that desolate and lonely land. I was having a tough time discerning the nature of reality. Last I checked, I had been sent to a bleak dimension by that prick of a demon mage Cagliostro. He had chosen a despicably dry and barren desert for my prison, and I had been roaming around for who knows how long. A day? Months? Longer? Everything seemed to stand still: the air, time, even the sun.

  The woman dropped to her knees. “Fiona!” She pulled me into her chest.

  The man remained standing. “Is it really her, Eva? Are you sure?”

  She embraced me tightly, inhaling my hair. “Of course I’m sure, Hunter! I’d know our only daughter in any dimension.”

  My skin felt like it was too tight for my body, and I began coughing from the lack of moisture in the air and overall dehydration. The man took out a small leather pouch from underneath his shabby robe, then leaned down to drip water into my parched mouth. Each drop was like liquid bliss, wetting my cracked lips and lubricating my raw throat. I took the pouch from his hand and chugged back as many gulps as I could manage before my stomach swelled with pain. The cells in my body began to pump with vigor and purpose again. I was no longer on my way to being a dried up carcass on the desert floor.

  I reached out to touch the woman’s cheek. My mother’s cheek. Skin that was once soft and supple now had brown spots and deep lines. “Am I hallucinating? Is this Cagliostro’s fear magic?”

  “We’re real,” she whispered.

  “We should get her back to camp. Out of this sun,” my father said, helping my mother lift me off the ground.

  My legs were wobbly and rubbery, not strong enough to stand on my own, so my parents wedged me between them and helped me along. The unrelenting sun scorched my skin. Grains of sand covered my face, hair, and entire body. The tiny granules were even caught between my teeth. This could not be the rest of my eternity—I had worked too hard as a Protector of Light to be banished to this sort of hell.

  “What is this place?” I asked.

  “A dimension especially designed by Cagliostro for Protectors of Light,” my father explained.

  “There are others here?” I asked.

  “Yes. Seven of us altogether. Kaila and Jeff Slater, Soraya and Saul Ayres, Aaron of Sardis, and us,” my mother said.

  The surname Slater. I knew that name. It belonged to Julian, my surfer-bro Protector and partner in crime. They must’ve been his missing parents. I wanted to ask more questions, but my energy levels were depleted and dried up, and delirium was setting in. I dropped my head onto my father’s shoulder, letting my parents carry me across the desert and back to their camp. I drifted in and out of consciousness. Along the way, images of waterfalls and fresh springs filled my thoughts, and when I realized those visions weren’t real, I wanted to cry a little bit. Actually, I wanted to give up because I don’t know how anyone could live in that hell-hole prison and not want to die.

  I hoped for a small pond—or even a puddle—to dip my sore feet into at their camp. Something to rinse off the layers of sand and grit from my skin, hair and under my fingernails. But when we arrived at their camp, disappointment punched me back a notch. Camp was more like a dust-ridden hut made of desert twigs and branches, and the water supply was either hidden or non-existent.

  I knew at that very moment there was no way I would resign myself to an eternity of that depressing lifestyle. Whatever efforts my parents and the other Protectors had made in the past to free themselves of Cagliostro’s prison would be multiplied by the thousands on my behalf.

  two

  My father placed me on a mat inside their close-knit living quarters. Surprisingly, it was about twenty degrees cooler inside the hut, and the absence of sun was pure ecstasy. The place was much larger than it had appeared, giving them enough space to comfortably house all seven Protectors. There was even room for one more—me—but that wasn’t going to be my permanent living quarters, or theirs for much longer.

  My mother removed the ragged zebra-striped Palazzo pants that I had snagged from the souvenir shop with Julian back in Mystic, Connecticut. She brushed my worn out legs with a cool cloth as she whispered, “We need the aloe. Your feet are a mess.”

  After traipsing around the desert in cheap sandals for countless hours, days or months, naturally my feet were a mess. When my mother slipped off the pleather sandals, the air felt magnificent on my blistered feet. I definitely planned to get an extended pedicure when I got back to my own dimension.

  “I’m gonna kill him,” I mumbled.

  “Who, honey?” my mother asked.

  “Cagliostro. I’m gonna rip his demon mage head off his body.”

  “Let’s just rest for now, okay, sweetie?” she said, smiling.

  My father wiped my forehead and cheeks with a damp cloth. “We have a lot of catching up to do. If you’re here that means you’ve come into your destiny. You’re officially a Protector of Light.”

  “Not by choice,” I grumbled.

  My mother’s face softened with compassion. “Though I’m sorry Cagliostro sent you to this place, I’m relieved to see you. To know that you’re okay.”

  I grinned. “I would’ve liked better circumstances, but I’m glad to see you again. I’ve missed you both so much.”

  She kissed my forehead and stood up. “We can talk about everything later. For now, get some rest and let the water replenish your body.”

  My parents stepped out of the hut, and I closed my eyes. But a restful sleep wasn’t on the agenda. Instead, I had disturbing visions of volcanos erupting, tsunamis crushing cities, and millions of people flocking to a towering spire that reached into the clouds and beyond. Then came even more horrific visions of Glimmer City under attack. I saw Ezra f
alling to his knees and someone severing his head. As I twisted deeper into the whirlpool of delirium, my blood fizzed with bubbles of acid and my insides felt like they were about to explode into billions of fragments. Something gripped my heart, refusing to let go.

  Screaming, I jerked awake. Sweat dripped down my back and along my temples. The sensation of something dark hollowed out my chest, and I could still feel its fingers wrapped around my heart, squeezing the life from me. I feared my visions were actually lucid premonitions and that Cagliostro had destroyed earth and gone on to attack Glimmer City, killing my Guide, Ezra among many others. I worried that while I had been locked away in that desert hell, Cagliostro had gained enough power to destroy humanity. I wondered if Asher, Charlotte, Julian and Rocco were okay. I couldn’t go back to sleep, not after seeing those frightening images of war and devastation. I had to believe all the people I loved were still safe. That there was still time to save them before Cagliostro brought on destruction.

  “Mom! Dad!” I sounded like a little girl crying out after a nightmare.

  My parents returned to the hut; my mother swooped down and patted my head frantically. “What is it?”

  “Give her some space,” my father said.

  An old man had followed them into the hut and stood over me, studying me with extreme care. The long white hair on his head rivaled that of his beard, and his wrinkles had wrinkles. He was beyond old. He was ancient.

  “I had a really bad dream,” I said, embarrassed by my outburst.

  The old man crept forward and crouched down to get a closer look at me. “A dream or a vision?” he asked in a grave tone.

  “I don’t know.” I looked at my parents for some support.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. This is Aaron of Sardis. One of the oldest Protectors of Light.”

  Glancing at my mother, he raised his thick white eyebrows, not appreciating that title. Though it suited him. I wondered if he was the very first Protector assigned by the Monarchy.

  “Well, what was it? A dream or a vision?” he persisted.

  “How can you tell the difference?” I asked, feeling especially amateurish.

  “A dream is soft and somewhat detached. A vision grips your heart and clasps until you can’t breathe,” he explained.

  “Definitely a vision.” I still felt the deep pain in my chest, remembering Ezra’s head being lopped off.

  Aaron of Sardis grabbed my hand and held tight, his pale blue eyes glimmering. “What did you see?”

  “It wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure.”

  “Go on,” he encouraged.

  “Earth was being destroyed by natural disasters. People were running toward some strange city with a tower. And …” I paused, not at all wanting to share the part about Ezra.

  “And?” everyone asked in unison.

  “There might’ve been a war going on in Glimmer City,” I said, looking away.

  “Glimmer City?” Aaron asked.

  “Headquarters. I just call it that because, well, the place glimmers.”

  Aaron sat down next to me, resting his head in his hands. Was he crying? Or thinking? Either way, I didn’t want to interrupt.

  “What is it, Aaron?” my father asked.

  He looked up, a slight grin curling his lips. “Your daughter had a vision—while in this dimension. This means she’s still connected to the Monarchy. There’s hope we can get out of here with her help.”

  “Oh, no doubt about it. We’re definitely getting out of here,” I promised.

  Aaron smiled like a wise old owl. “Yes, indeed. You are a valorous one. Everything they hoped you’d be.”

  “They?” I asked.

  “The Monarchy,” he said.

  I didn’t know what he was rambling on about, but I needed to convey the urgency of the situation back at home. “In my vision—or whatever it was—things were pretty bad. Like the end of times bad.”

  “A vision doesn’t necessarily mean it has already happened, but that it might,” Aaron explained.

  “I’d like to make sure nothing remotely like that happens. So if I’m still connected to the Monarchy, how do we make contact and get out of this place?”

  “That, my lief, I do not know.” And with that, Aaron of Sardis stood up and feebly meandered out of the hut.

  “Where’s he going? We need to figure this out. Like now.” I pulled myself up and started pacing around the hut.

  My mother took my hand. “Honey, you need to calm down and not waste any energy. Water and food are very hard to come by here. Conserve your resources.”

  “But if I’m still connected to the Monarchy, then we need to hurry up before it goes away and we end up stuck here forever. You guys know how much I hate sand.” That was the least of my worries. I had to get to my friends and Ezra before Cagliostro did any irreparable damage. Before he killed everyone on earth and in Glimmer City …

  My father stepped in front of me and rested his hands on my shoulders. The gesture reminded me of when I was in high school and I’d get worked up over my grades. “If we’re going to figure this out, we must remain calm. Stress will not make the answers come faster.”

  I had forgotten how much poise my parents had in sticky situations. They were the opposite of me. Though I usually got the job done, I somehow made a mess of things. Especially that last incident at Rhapsody Grove. Maybe if I had been a little more centered, I wouldn’t have fallen for Cagliostro’s mind control. Maybe if I had been a little less emotional, I wouldn’t have dived for what I thought was the Sacred Scroll. Whatever he had been holding only looked like the Scroll, but was some sort of instrument to transport me to this wretched dimension. If I had been more calm and calculated, I might not have ended up here.

  But I had started to realize with resounding truth that things don’t happen by coincidence—not in the supernatural world. I had ended up in the dry, gritty desert for a reason. Whether it was to free the other Protectors and save earth and Glimmer City, only time would tell.

  three

  Outside the hut, the sun blazed down from the indigo sky. I had changed into some lighter linen clothing, covering myself from head to toe, to keep the sand out of my mouth and hair. My parents and the other Protectors were sitting underneath an awning made of pieces of cactus woven together. I couldn’t imagine having to weave together those prickly stems, but I guess desperation will make you do all sorts of things.

  I plunked down next to my mom. “Hi, everyone. I’m Fiona.”

  The other Protectors smiled and gave polite salutations like we were at a campground hanging out together in nature. Totally normal.

  “So, does the sun ever set in this oven?” I asked.

  “We have one hour of twilight. That’s usually when we go out and scavenge for water and food,” my mother said despondently.

  A woman about the same age as my mother gazed at me. She had frizzy red hair braided over one shoulder. Her blue eyes were crystal clear and reminded me of a certain surfer-bro. “Are you Julian’s mom?”

  “I am. My name is Kaila Slater, and this is my husband Jeff. I wanted to wait before asking, but I can’t. How’s Julian? Is he okay? Oh, I hope he’s okay. Please tell me he’s doing well—”

  “Forgive my wife, she’s a bit co-dependent with our son. I’m sure he’s fine, right, Fiona?” Jeff’s question sounded more like a statement and the stern look in his eyes told me to go along with him.

  Neither Jeff nor Kaila had the same casual surfer demeanor as Julian. Though they were in tattered rags and smudged with dirt and sand, I could tell they were well refined individuals. Julian must have been an anomaly in their Beverly Hills home.

  I nodded, smiling. “Julian’s great. He’s really coming into his Protector-hood. Is that what you call it? Protector-ship? He’s fast. Faster than any other supernatural I’ve ever seen.”

  Kaila let out a huge sigh and squeezed Jeff’s hand. He kissed her cheek. “See, honey? Jules can hold his own. Anyone who can handle those thun
der tubes the way he does can manage just about anything.”

  I grinned. “Oh, for sure. Cagliostro’s put him through the wringer, but he always comes through.”

  Kaila pulled away from Jeff, her eyes boring into me. “What do you mean? Put him through what wringer? Is he okay?”

  Jeff shook his head, clearly irritated with my additional feedback. I tried to backpedal, but that never works. “He’s fine, Mrs. Slater. Trust me. Julian is solid.”

  The other woman in the group spoke up, “Leave the poor child alone, Kaila. She’s probably exhausted. And if she’s here with us, I can imagine however she arrived wasn’t a very pleasant scenario.” She smiled at me with kindness in her warm brown eyes. “I’m Soraya Ayres,” she said.

  “And I’m her husband, Saul,” a man with dark curly hair and a thick beard added abruptly.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  Worry lines and a permanent wince were etched across Saul’s face. “Don’t suppose you know a Protector named Hayden. She’s probably your age. Long, curly brown hair like her mother. Brown eyes … petite.”

  “I’m sorry. The only Protectors I know are Julian and Detective Rocco.”

  The old man Aaron of Sardis perked up, his baggy eyes widening. “Did you say Rocco?”

  “Yes, do you know him?”

  “Angelo Rocco?”

  I tried to recall if I had ever heard Rocco say his first name. I hadn’t. He was always just Rocco, or Detective. “I’m not sure. I only knew his last name,” I told him.

  “It must be Angelo,” he murmured, staring off toward the dusty horizon.

  “Is he your grandson?” I asked, thinking more like great-great-great grandson.

  “He’s my son.” He wiped a tear away.

  The whole Protector of Light bloodline thing was a little confusing. It seemed like Protectors had the same average lifespans as humans, but Aaron of Sardis looked like he was born at the dawn of time.

  “Not to be rude, but aren’t you a bit old to be his father?”

  “Fiona!” both of my parents said, embarrassed.