Ascension by Sable Grace Read Free Book Online

lamb. Occasionally, if Marcus liked them, they could get their raki served fifty/fifty with fresh lamb blood, and when she decided to eat tonight, that would likely be her request.
    Kyana pushed through the semicircular door of Spirits and let it close behind her. Her entrance would have been silent if not for the sound of her boots on the freshly polished marble floor. Several heads at the bar turned to stare at her, then, deciding she deserved no further attention, returned to their drinking, eating, and smoking. Glass hookah pipes decorated every table, occupied and empty. Purple. Green. Red. The slinky tubes coiled around the bottles like bracelets, waiting to be lightly puffed upon.
    “Fifty/fifty?”
    Kyana looked up and caught Marcus watching her as he wiped down his shiny countertop. His chest-length, bushy black beard rubbed the front of his denim shirt, making him look more like a rough lumberjack than the retired Mystic he was, but his dark eyes held no menace. Vamps of the Order were welcome at Spirits, so long as they remained on their best behavior and didn’t have his customers for dinner.
    “Straight raki tonight.” She pointed toward a secluded booth in the back. Nothing in Spirits was dark enough to fit her mood, but it was the darkest corner she could find to hide in. She needed to focus on the task ahead.
    How did even a skilled tracer go about finding a damned key that could be virtually anywhere? It wouldn’t be overflowing with pheromones to track or a pulse to follow. And on top of that, the damned thing was a pentagram. In her world, the pentagram was as common as a cross to Christians.
    Whatever. She’d figure out a way. She always did.
    She leaned her head against the wall, half lost in thought, half watching the door in anticipation of seeing Ryker again. Marcus appeared and slid a tumbler of what looked like murky water in front of her.
    “Bad night?” he asked.
    Usually, he didn’t talk to Kyana much. She must have looked pretty pathetic for him to think she needed a friend.
    “Nothing unusual,” she lied.
    His attention traveled to the blood staining her T-shirt. His gaze returned to hers, waiting for her to satisfy his curiosity. She’d come in beaten and bloody before. She hadn’t explained then, and she wouldn’t do so now.
    “Hope you got a good prize for your efforts.” With that, he turned to leave Kyana to her sought-after solitude.
    “Wait.”
    Marcus had been with the Order his entire adult life. Only recently had he retired his Mystic ways to open Spirits. And from what Kyana remembered, he’d been a pretty big mover and shaker within the Order’s ranks . . . at least as far as Mystics went.
    “Yes?”
    “What do you know of Cronos?” she asked, choosing her words carefully.
    His eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion. “What everyone else does. Bad god. Exiled. Dead.”
    “What about rumors? Anything about him survive all these years?” Kyana sipped her drink, trying to keep her voice casual. The last thing she wanted to do was raise interest in her mission, but she needed some clue to the god if she hoped to discover what happened to that key.
    Marcus rubbed his beard thoughtfully for several seconds. “Nothing really. Why the interest?”
    “Just curious.”
    The barkeep watched Kyana intently, as if trying to read her intentions. His fingers stroked the large angry scar visible between the open buttons of his work shirt. Mystics were human born, and it looked as though Marcus had undergone open heart surgery recently.
    “I don’t know what you’re fishing for, but you’ll have to find it in another pool. Cronos is a legend. A dead one. If there’s anything to know about anything there, I can’t help you.”
    Disappointed, Kyana sagged against the back of her booth and sighed. From the bar, Marcus kept a close watch on her. She doubted she’d just endeared herself with him and hoped it didn’t mean he’d stop serving her fifty/fifty.
    “Well