Firestorm (Smoke & Ashes Book 1)

by D. N. Hoxa

  “It’s Sassy. And I don’t stick to anyone.” I worked alone. Lexar didn’t even count.

  “Finding that witch is a priority. We really should—”

  I stopped walking and turned to him. The sun fell in his eyes, making them look even brighter. Almost strange, like there was an entire world buried underneath. The color was barely the surface.

  “I’m going to stop you right there, Abraham. There is no we here right now. I do appreciate the information you’ve given us, but I’m going to be honest with you—I don’t trust you.”

  “I don’t need you to trust me. Just trust that this witch really needs to be stopped,” he said. “And it’s Abrah.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do, and I’d be doing it a lot faster if you weren’t still here, talking to me.”

  He opened his mouth to say something but instead only smiled. “I’ll let you get to it then.” And with that, he turned around and took off for the other side of the street.

  The relief was instant. “See you, Abraham!”

  As much as I didn’t want to do what I was about to do, wasting time talking to strangers, especially strangers who claimed they were descendants of angels, wasn’t very productive. Chelsea was back in Lexar’s apartment, and I needed to get back to her as soon as possible, but first…

  Let me tell you a little bit about the woman who raised me.

  She’s a forest witch. I don’t know where Daddy Dearest found her or how he convinced her to take me into her home when I was eleven. I suspect there’s a story behind all of it, but the short version of it is that she was appointed my legal guardian, even though I’d never met her in my life. Even though that woman was not made to care for anything other than plants.

  Don’t get me wrong, she was not bad. In fact, the first couple of years after moving in with her, I actually liked her. She didn’t say much, let me do whatever I wanted, fed me delicious food, and we even had movie nights every Saturday. We tolerated each other and even liked each other’s company most of the time. She wasn’t a mom by any means, but we were more like friends, even though she’d been forty years old then.

  Joleen was so dedicated. You could tell what kind of a spell she wanted to do by the color of her clothes—brown for earth rites, yellow for clarity, purple for spiritual power, and a lot more. She went all crazy—from matching crystals in her earrings, all the way down to the way she tied the laces of her shoes, and I liked that, too.

  It was perfect—until one of Daddy’s visits. Until I, like a fool, decided to spy on their conversation that wasn’t meant for my ears at all. But I heard. I heard everything she had to say and, well…things changed after that. There was nothing I hated more in the world than being a burden, but I guess that’s what a motherless child is until she learns to pick herself up and stand on her own feet. Back then, I couldn’t do that. I was just thirteen. But fuck if I didn’t hate every single second of living in that place with that woman until the day I turned eighteen years old.

  I still talked to her sometimes, over the phone. And I was required to pay her a visit every Christmas—it was just the deal we’d made. The rest of the time, I kept away because she was a reminder of my teen years, and I didn’t like that reminder very much. It was like going through hell—and not the real Hell, but something far worse. I never wanted to feel as alone and as much a burden as I had then.

  But now, as I made my way back to my car with her apartment in mind, the old feelings resurfaced before I even realized they were there, the sneaky bastards. If I’d had any other choice, I’d have taken it. As it was, I knew nobody else who knew as much about angels as Joleen Frank.

  She didn’t live very far from mine or Lexar’s apartment, but with the traffic, it took me almost twenty minutes to get there. I had no idea if she was even home, but this wasn’t a conversation I could have with her over the phone. The apartment building was one of the fanciest in the city, and the apartment she lived in was huge. Eight rooms to fill with all sorts of plants that gathered all kinds of insects. I’d had to learn to live with spiders crawling over my body while I was asleep. Thank God that those days were behind me now.

  The doorman opened the door for me, but he didn’t even smile. Instead, he looked like he was about to get sick. That gave me a pretty good idea of how I looked. The brown and black marble of the lobby was exactly the same as it had always been. Shiny, clean, perfect. And the gold-colored elevator hadn’t changed a bit, with the huge mirror at the end of it that showed me I was right—I looked like shit. My hair was all over the place, the bags under my eyes huge. Blood on my face, down on my neck, from when the shifter had broken my still throbbing nose. I had to clean it with the sleeves of my hoodie, and it still hadn’t come off all the way. I managed to look halfway decent by combing my hair with my fingers, though.

  Way too soon, the elevator doors opened, and I was in the hallway with only three doors in it. The one in the middle was Joleen’s—and the place I lived in for seven years.

  It smelled like lilac up there, which meant Joleen was in her lilacs and lilies mood. They changed all the time—sometimes it was roses, sometimes peppermint, sometimes freshly cut grass. I knocked on the door before I could think too much of it, afraid I’d change my mind and go back to the elevator again.

  The door opened right away, and Joleen stood before me, as beautiful as ever. At the age of fifty-three, she still looked like she was in her thirties. Her skin was flawless, not a wrinkle in sight. She knew just the plants to grow to use on her skin, and it showed how well they worked. Her large brown eyes were just as alert as ever, and even her smile was as guarded as I remembered.

  “Sapphire, what a pleasant surprise.” Her voice was quiet, almost hushed, but it held a lot of authority, too. It gave you the impression that you did not want to hear her screaming at all.

  “Hey, Jo. Sorry to come here without calling,” I said, scratching my cheek, trying to avoid her eyes.

  “Nonsense. This used to be your home, too,” she said and stepped aside, her heeled slippers clicking against the tiles of her floor. She looked impeccable, as always, her blond hair neatly combed behind her head, her green dress almost exactly the same as the wall of green behind her.

  * * *

  “Thanks. I just needed to talk to you about something really quick.” I stepped inside, clearing my throat. It was a good idea to keep breathing through my mouth from now on. The smell would suffocate me otherwise. I don’t even know how I got used to it before, but it hadn’t bothered me as much as it did now.

  My eyes roamed over the open space around me, taking it all in—the main wall between the large windows that was covered in rich green vines with colorful flowers here and there. Those had no business growing inside an apartment, but here they were. The miniature palm tree was across, in front of the counter that separated the living area from the oversized kitchen. Grass grew all around the floor like sideboards, every blade shiny and perfect. The vines that hung on the ceiling around the fancy chandelier, the small white flowers on them mimicking the sparkly crystals…everything about this place was overwhelming.

  It was easy to see that it belonged to a forest witch, and I had no idea why she’d chosen this place to live in, when she could have had a house with a yard and a garden and everything she wanted. My dad had given her the option to choose anything when she took me in, yet she’d picked this. Guess stranger things had happened—like the miniature angel statues spread all over the place and the seven paintings hanging on the walls. All of them had angels in them, with huge white wings and ripped bodies, impossibly beautiful faces and really impressive dicks, I might add. Not what you see in real life.

  Joleen Frank was an angel fanatic. She loved them. She read about them all the time. She used to tell me stories about angels when I was a girl, too, but I never had much care for them. As far as I was concerned, they weren’t even real. And, yes, I know my father used to be one, but I could actually see my father, I could
feel his influence, hear him, touch him if I wanted to.

  Angels? Before Abraham, the most I’d heard about them was from Joleen and my fantasy books.

  “What happened? You’re covered in blood,” Joleen said matter-of-factly.

  “Just a meeting,” I mumbled and followed her deeper into the living room to sit on the pale yellow couch. She’d changed these recently. Last Christmas, her furniture had been red, if I remembered correctly. “So, um…I came across something today, and—”

  “For the love of everything holy, Sapphire. Tell me how you’ve been. Ask me how I’ve been. Don’t be rude,” she said with a laugh that made me want to smile instantly.

  She was right. I was being rude. It took me a few minutes to get comfortable in her presence, so I blamed it on that. And the fact that I really wanted to get to Chelsea as soon as possible.

  “I’ve been great. Just working and stuff. How about you, Jo? You look great, as always.”

  She pressed her lips together. “You’ve always been bad at pretending,” she said in almost a whisper. “I’ve told you before, you don’t need to hold back from me.”

  She had but I didn’t do it on purpose. There was just something about the fact that I’d lived with this woman for seven years and never really felt her, that never let me be the way I was when she was around. I could never tell her that, though. I felt guilty just feeling betrayed by her because I had no right to feel that way. She’d taken me in, even though my father had set her up for life, and she’d taken care of me the best she knew how. She was no mother, but I didn’t have the right to ask that of her. I never had.

  Still, it was impossible to let down my guard around her.

  “I know that, Jo. I’m not holding back. I’m just in a hurry.” I cleared my throat again, trying to make myself more comfortable. It wasn’t working.

  “Why? What happened? Did you father visit you again?” she asked, her wide eyes full of concern that I could never tell was real or fake. I never really tried to figure it out, I guess, because if it turned out to be fake, it would probably hurt. Ignorance is bliss, right?

  “No, but I saw him a couple days ago. It’s…complicated,” I said in a breath.

  “He is a complicated man,” she said with a nod. I don’t know how well she knew my father, but she’d never really wanted to talk about him in the past. It suited me perfectly. “What happened to your face? Did you get in a fight again?”

  “I fell,” I said awkwardly. “It’s fine, doesn’t hurt.”

  “Has it happened again lately?” Her voice changed, became lower, and that’s how I knew what she meant: shifting.

  “Nope.”

  “Is the bracelet working? And you have a plan for when it happens?”

  “Yep.”

  “How good is your control? Last time we spoke, you said she was getting stronger.”

  And this is another reason why I hated coming here. Joleen knew about what I was. She knew I turned into a phoenix because she had to. I’d lived with her. It wasn’t her fault that I didn’t like talking about my other half very much.

  “It’s good. She is getting stronger, but so am I.” Bullshit. I wasn’t getting stronger. Last time, I had to let myself pass out just to keep the phoenix at bay, even with the bracelet.

  “You’ve always been strong. Ever since you were a little girl, even after what you went through,” she cooed.

  I held back a flinch. “Yeah, well, you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have,” I quoted and regretted it the next second. Joleen raised her brows in question. My cheeks flushed. “Bob Marley,” I mumbled, then squeezed my eyes. Shut up, Sassy! “But, yeah. I’m getting stronger, too.”

  “That’s good to hear, Sapphire. You should always be in control of yourself. Always—no exception,” she reminded me, raising her perfectly manicured index finger to my face. Then, she smiled again, like we hadn’t talked at all the last couple minutes. “Did you want some tea? Or do you still prefer coffee?”

  “Neither, actually. I’m just here because—”

  “I actually have some tea ready, and I was going to have it for myself, but you can keep me company, can’t you?” Before she even finished speaking, she was on her way to the kitchen, her heels jamming against the floor, but it felt more like she was walking right on top of my head.

  “Jo, it really isn’t—”

  “How is your friend, by the way? Chelsea, was it?”

  Did you feel that, or was it just me?

  Because it seemed to me like she was trying to avoid my question, even though she had no idea what it even was yet.

  Hmm. I watched her take her sweet time grabbing the cups out of the cabinet, and then pouring the tea from the white kettle. Maybe I was just tripping, but she seemed to be moving in slow fucking motion.

  I was probably just out of it. With a sigh, I rubbed my face and prayed for patience. Instead of looking at her, I focused on my surroundings—the wall and the flies buzzing near all the vines and the flowers.

  For a second, I thought about going to see my room down one of the two hallways accross. I’d never been in there since my eighteenth birthday, when I left this place and went on my own, but sometimes I wondered what kind of memories it would bring. The seven years I’d spent here felt more like a dream than reality for whatever reason. Most things were blurry, especially after I found out how Joleen really felt about me living with her. Almost like my brain was constantly trying to block that time so I wouldn’t feel the way I felt then.

  Eventually, what felt like an hour later, Joleen came back with a golden tray with two cups on it. Fancy, just like everything else—with green drawings of flowers on the sides and a golden rim—and I can’t even tell you why that made me uncomfortable.

  “Here you are,” she said and handed me one of the cups. I took it just to indulge her. The chamomile smelled heavenly, though.

  “Chelsea’s fine, thank you,” I said, and my stomach actually turned at the mentioning of her name. Even my phoenix raised her head, and she preferred to stand down when we were in Joleen’s place. “Like I said, I’m working on something, and—”

  “You should bring her over sometime. I’d like to meet her. She knows about me, does she?”

  That was it.

  I put the teacup on the table and turned to her. “Jo, what’s going on?”

  She smiled, and it was all perfect, almost like it was real. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean this. You won’t let me even tell you what I’m doing here. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I was just curious about your friend—”

  “That you’ve barely even mentioned twice in the four years she’s been my best friend. All of a sudden you want to meet her?” She didn’t care about Chelsea. She didn’t even ask me about her last Christmas.

  Pursing her lips, she put her own teacup down. “You’re right, I’m being silly.”

  “Tell me what’s going on. Was it my father?” Because he could inspire fear in people like nobody else I’d ever met. All you had to do was look at him and you’d be ready to do whatever he wanted you to, no questions asked, just to keep him away.

  “No, it wasn’t your father,” Joleen said, which confused me even more. “It’s silly. It was just a dream.”

  I narrowed my brows. “A dream.”

  “Yes, I dreamed about you last night. And it wasn’t…it wasn’t nice.”

  All the years I’d known Joleen, she had never stuttered. Not once that I remembered.

  “Why? What happened in the dream?” I wasn’t very superstitious, and dreams were just dreams, but what about the dream I had about the bar’s name? And if Joleen was this freaked out about it, I wanted to know what the hell it was.

  “I don’t know exactly. It was mostly a feeling. I saw you and your phoenix, and angels were gathered around you. I’m not sure what they were doing, only that you didn’t like it. You…you screamed.”

  Angels.<
br />
  What were the fucking odds?

  “I didn’t think much of it, to be honest. It was a dream and dreams never mean what we think they mean. But when you showed up here, I thought maybe…” Putting her hand to her chest, she chuckled but it was forced. “I know, I’m being silly.”

  “Maybe not so silly,” I said in wonder. “I’m actually here to ask you about angels. Something came up with a case I’m working on—a nocturnal witch is on the loose and we need her found asap. I recently got information that she’s after something that the angels gifted to mankind a long time ago, something that is apparently buried here in Philly.”

  Her thin brows shot up, and I noticed a thin wrinkle on her forehead for the first time. It made her feel more real.

  “Angels have gifted mankind a lot. All seven virtues are a gift from the Heavens.” Her brown eyes came alive suddenly. She still loved talking about angels. “Hold on a moment, please.”

  She stood up and went down the first hallway to her master bedroom and disappeared inside. A nervous mess, I stood up, wiping my sweaty palms against my hoodie. It just wasn’t reasonable for me to behave like this. I don’t know what it was about Joleen that brought out this side of me, but no matter how hard I tried to just let it go, loosen up and be normal, it never worked.

  I approached one of the windows and looked down at the city without actually seeing it. My attention was on the console table to my right, full of fully blossomed, bright purple lilacs. Between the flowers and the leaves were about seven little angels, and they still freaked me out as much as they did when I was a kid. Still, I took the one nearest me and brought it closer to inspect. The angel had his leg up, his hand over his knee like he’d just suffered an injury there, and he was looking up at the sky, his huge wings wrapped around him like they were trying to protect him from the outside world. His other arm was raised up, his perfectly detailed eyes looking upward, his mouth open wide as if he were screaming at the skies. In fact, if I focused long enough, I was pretty sure I could hear his voice, too.