The Ember and the Emerald (No Monsters Like Hers #2)

Chapter 1

THE UNDOING

“Are you all right?” a voice called from the distance. My mother’s, filled with concern. “Do you need help?”

My heart slammed into my throat. She stood thirty feet away, visibly pregnant—with me—and I wondered if running away was cowardice or the bravest thing I’d ever done. Either way, I couldn’t stay here.

I clutched my companion’s hand and dragged him through sunshine, across a bustling parking lot spider-webbed with cracks and weeds. The more distance from Mom, the better. No telling what damage I was doing to the space-time continuum thingie.

A sedan screeched to a halt, barely avoiding us.

“Sorry!” I called, picking up speed, never losing my hold on Jasher.

The driver stuck his hand out the window and flipped us off.

Jasher kept glancing back, eyes wide. “A metal wagon,” he said, accent thicker than usual. “No horses.”

“That’s a car. Maybe we can take one for a spin.” Without him, I’d be dead. A joyride didn’t compare, but it was a good start. “Now, let’s go faster on foot,” I instructed.

“A spin. Yes. I would like that. But what does this mean?” He extended his free arm in my direction, his middle finger raised.

I groaned. “It’s how people here say I’m having a terrible day and now I want you to have one too.”

He didn’t protest as I shoved us both between two red brick buildings and flattened myself against the wall, catching my breath. Thick shadows filled the space, seeming to stare at me.

I frowned. Lack of sleep and too much adrenaline, probably.

“Did she follow us?” I peeked around the corner. Beyond the alley’s mouth, storefronts advertised electronics, discount tires, and a breakfast special. The parking lot shimmered in August heat. Mom stood inside the chapel entrance, rubbing her temples, looking toward where we’d been.

My throat closed. She was so young. Younger than I’d remembered, or maybe I’d just never had the luxury of noticing. Her hair was bound in rollers, the way she used to curl it every Sunday. She pressed one hand to her belly—to me—and disappeared inside. The door shut behind her.

The last time I’d seen her alive, I was eight years old. I’d spent twenty years trying to remember everything about her, and now I’d just let her go.

“You avoid your mother?” Jasher asked, confused. He leaned against the wall across from me, arms folded. Dried blood dotted his white tunic and ripped black leathers. Two axes crossed behind his shoulders. Weapons that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

But how…why…?

“Princess,” he intoned, reminding me of his question. “Moriah.”

The mini-spiral ground to a halt. Strange things happened in Hakeldama, his home. Of course strange things happened anywhere he traveled. Even another world.

I launched into a fast back-and-forth pace.

Cicadas shrieked from distant trees, and country music leaked from an auto shop bay.

“I don’t want to avoid her, but it’s for the best. None of this makes sense.

We’re in the wrong time, without ID, money, or transportation.

My dead mother is alive and pregnant with me.

Suddenly, you’re armed.” Disaster incoming, guaranteed.

Not the least bit surprised by the appearance of his weapons, he shrugged. “An executioner is never without his tools.”

“Former executioner. There’ll be no beheadings here. None. I cannot stress that enough.” A manic laugh escaped. “How did this happen? Why did we land in the past?”

Time travel doesn’t exist. The past was supposed to be untouchable. Then the storms found me. Tornadoes that tore through worlds. One carried me to a fantastical horrorland I never wanted to see again. The other dropped me back home in Kansas twenty years too early. Why? How?

“How are you so composed?” I demanded. “You’re in a whole new world, Jasher.” As if he hadn’t realized that.

He hauled me against his chest and clasped my cheeks. “I’ve been in worse predicaments, Moriah. Far worse.”

For balance, I flattened my palms over his distractingly well-defined pecs. His heartbeat was slow, certain, and reassuring. “I hate this,” I murmured.

“At least you aren’t alone.” Those eerie shadows veiled the upper half of his face, giving him a menacing edge anyone but me should fear. His grip tightened a fraction. “Now breathe with me.”

I obeyed and received an instant reward. The scent of sandalwood and orchids brought a calming wind strong enough to push out tension. “You’re very good at soothing others,” I said and nuzzled closer.

He chuckled. “Taming wild beasties is one of my many talents.”

I chuckled too. “Well, don’t go getting a big head about it. I’m more like a house cat than a beastie.” A monstrous boar-like creature spiced with rage and malice.

Jasher pressed a soft kiss to my brow. “My brother, Anders, is prone to panic. When we force him to focus elsewhere, he calms.”

I deflated a bit. His brothers, whom he loved, needed our help. Not just Anders but Reese and hundreds of others, all clones of one man, a ruthless tyrant who made tools out of men. Or they would need our help. In twenty years. So confusing!

“Breathe,” Jasher instructed and this time, it seemed like a command given to us both.

Had my panic sparked his?

I concentrated on his face rather than my troubling thoughts. He was beautiful in a way that made danger feel like shelter. All lean muscle, molten, sunset eyes, and ruthless precision wrapped in six-foot-four steel.

My own appearance was less poetic. Mud-smeared, bloodstained, torn at the seams. A road-weary wreck beside an unflappable legend. “How are we going to free your brothers from the Guardian’s rule if we’re here?”

His brow wrinkled. “I don’t understand it, but I have a sense that I’ll see them again.”

“Here?” I squeaked.

A shake of his head. “There.”

He might return. I wouldn’t.

My next thought hit hard: What if I lost Jasher?

“For now, we should find shelter,” he said. Scanning the sky above us, he frowned. “A storm comes. I sense that, too.”

A quick glance showed no clouds, only clear blue perfection. And other than sandalwood and orchids, all I smelled was summer: bacon grease, gasoline, and freshly cut grass baking in heat. “I don’t see any signs of a storm.”

“Not with your eyes, no.” He tilted his head, listening to something I couldn’t hear. “Oh, yes. It’s coming.”

My unease doubled. Another complication.

“My family farm is a six-mile hike from here.” Paved Kansas roads should be as easy as pie to navigate compared to paths laden with man-eating flowers and toxic sludge pits.

“There’s an old barn I used to play in. We can hide there. ” I knew all the secret spots.

“Mission accepted.” He pressed a soft kiss into my lips, released me, and straightened. “Point the way.”

I missed his touch already, but at least his warmth lingered on my skin. “First things first. People will notice your weapons.” Maybe we should hide them beneath a trash bin.

He jutted his chin. “I dare anyone to issue a challenge.”

Okay, so leaving them behind wasn’t an option.

Deep breath in, out. If we moved fast, we might remain undetected, making hiding the axes a nonstarter. “Come on.” I clasped his hand and led him across the parking lot, moving farther away from my mother’s chapel.

For a long stretch, shadows concealed us, and no one cried out with alarm. No sirens sounded. When we reached the woods alongside the highway, tangles of leaves offered decent cover, and I relaxed enough to pick up our conversation.

“You should be home,” I mumbled. He’d planned to stay and fight his king. So had I. For the kingdom, yes. But mostly for him.

Jasher was a complicated man with a complex history, trained from birth to obey and execute without question or mercy.

And yet, beneath his (sometimes, mostly) cold facade, he was shockingly kind, unerringly fierce, and brutally honest, with a delightful soft spot only for me.

He was also a disturbingly good kisser. His strength and skill on the battlefield awed me.

“I cannot regret seeing your home.” He ran his gaze over the landmarks. “Where do you most like to visit?”

Easy. I pointed to a billboard for an ice cream parlor. “Mom and Dad used to take me there after every ballet recital. I always ordered a marshmallow sundae.” Mmm. Marshmallow sundae. I hadn’t enjoyed one in years.

“I don’t know what that is,” he said, “but I want one.”

I bumped his shoulder with my own. “I’ll add it to our list of to-dos.”

As we walked on, clouds gathered overhead, thicker than normal and swiftly darkening. The predicted storm. My pulse jumped.

We made it another half hour without incident.

Jasher groaned and slowed. “Something’s wrong. My joints are stiffening.”

I looked his way—and froze. “You’re glowing.” Stars shimmered across his skin, silver blazing against bronze. Beautiful. Wrong.

Brows knitted, he studied his arms in the light. “This has never happened before.”

I swallowed hard. “Let’s hustle.”

We started forward at a faster clip.

“Just stay calm,” I added. This world couldn’t handle one of his rages.

He was a monstra, able to shift into a ferocious beast. Half dragon, half hellspawn. When the transformation occurred, villages burned.

“I won’t shift.” Determination hardened his tone. “You have my word.”

“That’s great, wonderful, but you’re still glowing like a night light.”

“And we’ll figure out why.”

We picked up the pace again. For three miles, I debated possibilities. When we reached a small stretch with a video store, two drive-thrus and a car dealership—all ghosts of the future—I was no closer to an answer.

The glow hadn’t faded, but it hadn’t brightened, either.

After passing the cluster of businesses, we came to an open road. Nothing to conceal us.

“Tell me what you know of time travel,” he said, perhaps to distract us both.

I exhaled. “Stories warn against meeting other versions of yourself.”

“But you did meet yourself, in a way. Nothing bad happened.”

“True.” Not that I knew of, anyway.

“Perhaps you’re meant to change the future.”

There were things I’d longed to do for years.

Stop Dad’s smoking, preventing his cancer diagnosis.

Save Mom from whatever happened to her.

Keep the farm productive.

First, I’d have to convince my parents I was their daughter not yet born.

An old beater truck rumbled by. I stiffened. Then I recognized the vehicle. Then the driver. Then her. Mom perched beside Dad. She turned, looking at me rather than the otherworldly Jasher, as if trying to solve a puzzle.

Did some part of her recognize me?

“That’s them,” I whispered. They didn’t stop, and I was glad for it. Not ready. “That’s my parents.”

Jasher squeezed my hand.

Thunder cracked. Lightning forked the sky, and my breath hitched.

In Hakeldama, the monstra came with the storms.

“Faster!” We sprinted on, ditching the road for grassland. Finally, we climbed the fence delineating Shaker property.

The moment my feet hit the soil, peace washed over me. Home. I was home.

No one was out working the soybean fields, allowing us to cut through and close in on a red barn in better shape than I remembered. Thunder vibrated with such power, the entire world seemed to shake.

“We’re almost there,” I said as rain lashed, soaking every inch of me. My teeth chattered.

At the barn, I shoved open the door, its rusty joints groaning. When I slipped inside, relief surged. Lightning chased away darkness, spotlighting a dust-covered tractor and an old riding lawnmower.

Problem: Jasher hadn’t entered the barn with me.

“Jasher?” Hugging myself, I stuck my head past the door I’d just used.

My jaw nearly unhinged. He stood outside the threshold, mid-step, rain sluicing over skin turned to living steel. His eyes, too, were metal. A polished, unseeing silver. Shadows stretched over his shoulders, as if outlining wings that weren’t there, then broke apart and scattered.

I stood shocked and horrified, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. But there was no sense to be had. I bolted to him, patting his chilled cheek as rain pelted mine. Solid, utterly unyielding.

New lightning exploded across the sky, golden light and shadows twisting over his metal face. I reared back, a single word whispering through my head. Monster.

No, no. Not Jasher. My panic rose. He wasn’t breathing. He didn’t blink. The man who had steadied me in that alley, who wanted to try a marshmallow sundae, who had crossed worlds for me, was gone. A genuine Tinman had taken his place.