Page 11 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

D aylight speared through the windows as shrill bird calls wrenched Emmery from sleep. It was too damn early, and her parched mouth cried out for water. A pulse thumped against her temples as she rolled over in her old bed, squeezing her aching eyes shut and recalling her tormented night.

Every corner of this place still held memories of her sister.

Every scuff in the floorboards from Maela’s decrepit rocking horse, the smudged paint from her drawings on the wall, and her impossibly genuine laugh that still seemed to warm these empty halls.

Gods, that girl had left a raw, jagged hole in Emmery’s life—even after all this time.

Maela . Emmery’s heart bled her name with each sluggish beat.

Emmery dragged a hand down her face, her plan spinning in her head like a tumultuous tornado. Because deep in her soul, she knew it would be her only chance, and she couldn’t let it slip by. So, despite Vesper’s warning she was determined to resurrect her sister.

Whether it was to atone for all the times she’d failed her or because missing Maela cracked open and expanded the black hollowness inside her, she wasn’t sure. But her sister was the only one who ever truly loved her—without fault or consequence.

So, last night, Emmery plotted.

Once she fulfilled her end of the bargain, she would slip away and use the items herself. Even if it was against the gods, having Maela again was all that mattered.

Emmery’s stomach churned as she debated every possible hole in her plan.

She knew it was cruel, but this world had never shown her kindness, and Vesper was likely no different.

Every time she gave, people took, and over the years they’d taken too much and left her an empty, withered shell.

It was time she was the one who took. It was time she made things right.

Yet that night she fretted for countless hours, skimming her fingers over the shooting star now grooved into her neck, until she caved and chugged a bottle of spirits to find sleep. Sweet oblivion was more like it.

The empty bottle was still clutched in her hand when she woke, the lingering staleness of it coating her tongue in a fuzzy reminder of her tarnished soul. She stared at the bottle for a long moment as guilt and shame wrestled inside her.

“Did you know you snore?”

The bottle fumbled from Emmery’s grasp and struck the floor but thankfully didn’t shatter. Her racing heart banged against her ribcage, attempting to escape her chest as she fisted the blankets. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Vesper grinned, ignoring the bottle resting against the toe of his boot. He wore the same leathers as yesterday, all those buckles and weapons smiling in the morning sunlight. Like he owned the place, he reclined in a chair from the kitchen. Had she slept through him dragging it up the stairs?

“And you drool,” he said and snickered. “An impressive amount I may add.”

Emmery pressed her palms into her throbbing eyes. “How long have you been here?” she demanded. “And how did you get in?”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Vesper crossed and uncrossed his feet. “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you since you seemed to be having such a nice dream. Oh, and you talk in your sleep, in case you weren’t aware.”

Emmery’s face burned, the heat in her cheeks spreading down her neck in a flaming ooze of magma. She didn’t remember any dream.

Vesper’s smile broadened and he leaned forward, palming his cheek. “Who’s Shade ?”

“Be quiet,” she snarled. What in the world was he talking about? She yanked the blanket over her nose, muttering, “Damn morning people. Up at the ass-crack of dawn.”

“Someone is grumpy. Also, your door was unlocked. Do you have a habit of leaving it open for strangers? You are out here in the woods alone.”

“I don’t live here anymore, remember?” And she’d never fixed that lock, even when she did live there, but it didn’t mean he could just let himself in. Emmery pushed up onto her elbows. “Do you have a habit of walking into unlocked homes? If so, that’s incredibly creepy.”

Ignoring her last retort, he reached behind him. Emmery braced herself, trying to remember where she left her dagger before hauling her drunk, bleary-eyed self to bed.

From behind his chair, Vesper materialized a black pack and plunked it in her lap. Her fingers skimmed the expensive looking buttery leather. He must have noticed the state of her shabby bag, held together by patches and prayers. This put hers to shame. And it was heavy but not with stuffing.

“I packed some things for you,” he remarked, catching her skeptical yet shocked expression.

“That’s—” Her voice snagged as emotion caught it.

The pack wasn’t something she could have bought herself.

She had no money and the last gift she received was her ring from Fionn all those years ago.

This was ... kind. And thoughtful. But recalling Vesper’s words nothing is free, nothing is fair , distrust hooked into her gut like a fish on a line. “I’ll repay you.”

He waved a dismissive hand, that wolfish grin returning.

“No need. Consider it part of our bargain.” Vesper glanced out the window, golden rays from the rising sun kissing his cheek.

“We need to leave now to make it before sunset. The forest isn’t pleasant in daylight so I can only imagine how it is at night. ”

Emmery’s chest tightened as she too gazed out the window as if she could see her freedom hiding somewhere amongst the thick smattering of trees in the distance. But first they would have to get to the gate.

“I’ll leave you to get dressed,” he said, scrutinizing the ratty clothes she wore to bed. Vesper rose from the chair and sauntered down the stairs, whistling an awful offbeat tune.

Opening the pack, Emmery found a black fitted tunic, a pair of leather trousers, and vest with complicated lacing.

It took her far longer than expected to get dressed and weave her hair into a messy braid.

How did Vesper guess her size? All the pieces fit the contours of her body perfectly, including the new boots, though they were a bit stiff.

Maybe he had a keen eye for fashion? Strapping the dagger to her thigh for easy access and finishing off the look with her dark-green cloak, she had to admit, the armour made her feel tough somehow.

However, despite the illusion of strength, her stomach twisted at the projected journey ahead.

Vesper wore all those weapons, and she only had one dagger. Would she need more? Her magic was essentially useless unless whatever attacked her was within arm’s reach, but by then it would be too late.

Emmery ran a clammy hand down her face. The last thing she wanted was to rely on Vesper to protect her.

After packing her few belongings, filling her canteen from a bottle under her bed, and taking a long, luxurious swig to calm her nerves, she stopped in Maela’s room—the original reason for her visit.

Whether it was the lack of sleep or heightened emotions from the bargain, she couldn’t force herself to cross the threshold the previous night.

Even now, Emmery choked back the tears burning in her throat.

The stuffed bear Maela had outgrown sat on her unmade bed and Emmery could picture her sister’s ruffled head of unruly red curls, her cheeky smile, and warm, whiskey eyes, like her spirit still lingered. Waiting for Emmery to come home.

Moving to the center of the room, Emmery sank to the floor, desperate to look anywhere but at Mae’s collection of storybooks they had once enjoyed together.

The ones Emmery had taught her to read. The ones that would continue to collect dust. The loose floorboard came up as easily as Emmery remembered and a small green box waited untouched all these years.

She lifted it with tentative fingers and flicked open the latch.

And there, contained within those four wooden walls, a note sat inside.

Emmery’s breath hitched, her waterlogged splintered heart throbbing with the urge to read it.

To know those words. To memorize them and etch them into her mind, but she didn’t dare touch it knowing she’d likely fall into a chasm of tears she wouldn’t—or rather couldn’t—climb out of.

Because she would inevitably sink until she was below ground, never to glimpse the sun again or feel its warmth, and that endless emptiness inside her would swallow her whole.

So, instead, she snapped the box closed and shoved it in her bag.

She would deal with it later or at least that’s what she told herself.

Leaning against the wooden siding as she exited the cottage, Vesper slid her a sideways glance.

“I have one more thing for you,” he said, his brows drawing together as he caught her tight expression threatening to crack as she dragged under the impossible heaviness of that box in her pack.

In his gloved hand, he held out a twin dagger to the one Fionn had given her. The black blade glinted in the sunlight, but instead of rubies, onyx gems adorned the handle. Emmery’s jaw slackened as she surveyed the gorgeous gift.

“Where did you get this?” she asked, her voice strained.

She’d never seen another like it. Not that she had searched but the odds seemed slim.

And for some reason, seeing this dagger resurrected the despair of losing Fionn all over again and although she shoved it down and clamped a lid over it, the emotion spilled over, and she blinked back tears.

“I have a few weapons at my disposal.” Vesper gestured to his sword, daggers, and assorted weapons strapped to his chest and thighs. “I thought your dagger might want a dark friend.” He winked as she took it from him.

Emmery sheathed it on her opposite thigh, cleared the lump in her throat, and eyed his sword.

The light bounced off the blade’s long heavy curve, the onyx hilt wrapped in a dark leather tie for grip, like that of her dagger.

At the base of the hilt a wolf skull peeked out over the scabbard, matching the embroidered wolf on his cloak.

“When do I get a sword?” she asked with a cheeky smile.

Vesper snorted. “When I’m convinced you won’t maim yourself.”

She scowled at him, but he strolled away, unbothered.

Taking one last glimpse of her childhood home, Emmery’s heart stuttered, stretching for it though it made no logical sense.

Maybe because there were too many memories contained in those walls.

It was where her mother took her last breath, and Maela took her first steps.

It was the place Emmery had skirted Death’s embrace after the attack she survived in the woods.

For two months she’d wandered amongst the trees and the scars from the severe wounds still marred her skin though the blurred pocket of time was missing.

But sometimes she swore she could recall the bite of the blade sinking into her heart and painting a jagged smile across her abdomen.

And to this day, she was still uncertain what happened.

Why she was attacked. Why she’d been out there in the first place.

All she knew was she had never been the same since, like whoever had attacked her had sliced her open, unhinged her ribs, and stolen something integral, leaving only this gaping bottomless darkness inside her.

But the memories of her childhood, sister, and mother remained though they were now distant. Deceased. And the overgrown lemon tree still bore fruit, unlike her life here. It had died long ago and her hope and zest for life with it.

It had all gone with Maela.

Emmery straightened her spine, adjusted her pack, and readied herself.

It was time to make things right. And the bargain was a way to do this.

To see her sister again. To tame her magic. To reclaim her life.

She turned her back to the cottage and jogged to catch Vesper.

And as it disappeared behind her, Emmery didn’t look back.