by Jade Alters
And that’s what should work here. If Dane dies and is reborn, the effects that the Supernaturals have over him should be wiped from him. But I can’t help but hesitate. Am I really about to consider killing my own brother? Even though I know it will only be temporary, I really don’t want to even think about it.
But what if it’s the only way to save him?
I avoid looking at Luciana as I ready myself. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. If I do fatally injure Dane, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look either he or Luciana in the eye again. It will be a stain that’s forever on my conscience. If only there was some other way to prompt him into a blazing inferno.
But I’m unsure. Many of the secrets of our people were lost when our family was killed, and Dane and I are still learning things about ourselves that we never had the opportunity to be told. We document each thing that we witness, but it still means that our knowledge of our own bodies is worryingly small.
“Warwick, watch out!”
On Luciana’s cry, I look up and jerk to the side when I see Dane rushing at me. I expect him to skid to a halt and turn around, but he doesn’t. He keeps running, missing me by a wide margin, and I frown, wondering where he’s going.
A second later I curse myself for being an idiot. He’s heading straight for Luciana.
I don’t stop to think about it. There isn’t time any more. Luciana is now in danger, dragged into a fight I should have never introduced her to. The Supernaturals are watching impassively, though I can see them tensing as they see a human in danger, or perhaps in anticipation of what they know must happen next, and Dane is nearing Luciana, one talon raised in threat. It doesn’t matter that the poison won’t really harm her. The talon is sharp enough to do considerable harm.
I don’t remember running, the world blurring around me as I move. Fear gives my feet wings, and then I’m there, rushing at my brother and tackling him from the side. He jerks sideways with me and twists in my grasp, obviously expecting the move. It was an obvious trap, but one that I had to fall into.
Then there’s a sharp burn swiping its way down my shoulder. It’s a fiery trail that swiftly spreads, and I feel a scream of pain erupt from my throat as the world disappears from around me. Nothing makes sense any more, I don’t know what’s happening, and I’m left with the oddest feeling that I’m dying.
Everything goes black, and the last thing I hear is a scream that echoes all around me.
Luciana
I see Dane running toward me and my muscles tense. I can’t believe how fast he is and I know, in that moment, that I’ll never be able to outrun him. His legs are longer, and his inhuman speed likely won’t let me get more than a few steps.
I see a talon, glinting in the last vestiges of sunlight as it drops beyond the hill. Then Warwick is there, coming out of nowhere as he tackles Dane. Everything has happened so fast that I barely have any time to process it.
But it’s Warwick’s scream that pierces the fog in my mind. He crashes to the ground and Dane gets to his feet, looking impassively down at his brother as he writhes, his muscles knotting. For a moment, I’m confused about what just happened.
It’s then that I see the long cut on Warwick’s bare shoulder. I stare at it and then slowly up to Dane’s still raised talon, which has a drop of blood on it.
Dane scratched Warwick.
Dane poisoned Warwick with the one thing that will truly kill him.
“Dane,” I gasp.
Dane is shuddering. His expression is still blank, but his body has begun to shiver as he stares down at his brother, who is dying before him. Emotions shift through his eyes, too fast to comprehend.
And then he screams, the sound even more hair raising than Warwick’s, stumbling back from his hurt brother, his impassiveness abruptly shattering as he stumbles back. A wave of heat hits me, and I can see a high flush stealing over Dane as he backs way, hands gripping his hair, his expression transforming into one of tortured grief.
I know what’s going to happen moments before it does. I don’t have any time to duck as Dane suddenly bursts into flame, still screaming, and I’m too shocked to move. Dane is on fire and Warwick is dying in front of me. I don’t understand what’s going on.
Movement catches my attention. The four people who had stood by, the ones that likely owned the sleek black car down on the road, are approaching. What do they have to fear now? Both phoenixes are incapacitated. Warwick will be out of their hair for good soon enough, and Dane is inconsolable. There’s nothing stopping them from doing what they came here for.
A wave of fury burns through me. Part of me thinks that I should feel grief for what has just happened. The peaceful life that I had lived up until now had broken beyond repair. But I’m just angry. These people were the ones who did this. They were the ones who kidnapped Dane and set him against his brother. They’re the reason we’re here now.
I’m not going to let them win.
I feel something stirring within me. It’s a feeling that I get sometimes, when my emotions hit their peak, giving me an extra boost of energy that I’ve never quite understood. But this is beyond even that. It feels like that energy is now expanding outwards, pouring out of me, and a thin wind begins to circle around me.
I’m too angry to wonder about it. I’m too determined to do something to care that this isn’t something that should be happening. I stride forward, standing in front of Warwick’s fallen form, very aware of every second that is ticking away.
“Stay back!” I shout.
I don’t expect anything to happen. But the four of them stumble to a halt and then careen backwards, almost as though they were pushed.
They immediately get guns out. Of course, they were armed. I should be frightened, especially on seeing the barrels turned on me, but I throw caution to the wind with reckless abandon, barely aware of the way the wind around me grows stronger. My hands clench tightly at my sides.
“Leave!” I scream.
I release my fists and throw my hands up, following an instinct that I don’t completely understand. The Supernaturals are blown back several feet and they land, hard, in a heap on the ground. They don’t get back up.
The energy leaves me abruptly, making me stagger, suddenly exhausted. I blink around me. My mind is turmoil, almost every part of me shouting to figure out what the hell just happened.
But it’s the smallest voice that gets my attention and silences every other urge.
Warwick.
I spin around and drop to the ground beside Warwick. His body is still jerking spasmodically and his breathing is harsh and fractured. He’s dying right here.
“An antidote would have to be administered within seconds of being poisoned. Even if you did manage to develop one, you would have to be standing right beside a phoenix to save them,” I remember Warwick saying.
“And I’m beside you,” I say tremulously to his silent form.
I quickly turn out my pockets with trembling hands, until a small vial of a blue substance falls from my pocket, the same substance that I had shown Dane earlier today with such pride. When Dane had been kidnapped, I had had a lot of hours to pace and wonder what to do about it, terrified about what was going to come next as I waited for Warwick to arrive home.
And I had found myself staring at my antidote, wondering if maybe taking it would be a good idea. I didn’t even know if it worked properly. I had no idea if I had actually managed to develop an antidote, or if it would just do more harm than good. Although mere seconds ticked by, time seemed to slow as I contemplated the choice in front of me, but in truthI had no real choice.
The vial offered Warwick and Dane a chance they hadn’t had before. And so, deciding that it was worth it, I had stoppered a small vial of it and tucked it away in my pocket, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t have to use it.
Now I’m here and Warwick is dying from the poison I had been looking at over the last several weeks. If there was any time to try it out, now wo
uld be it. Warwick is going to die without an antidote. It’s now or never; I guess we’ll find out if it works the hard way.
Shakily, I lean over him and manage to twist the cap off the vial, allowing it to fall to the ground without caring where it went. Warwick’s mouth is open, and I hesitate for only a second before I tip the contents straight down his throat, forcing his mouth closed as he shudders and bucks at the feeling, rubbing my hand on his throat to try and prompt him to swallow. When he does, I sag.
That’s it. The antidote is in him, now. All I can do is wait.
I sit back on my knees, tired and drained. Suddenly remembering Dane, I look around. He’s collapsed on the ground nearby, completely bare and unmarked from the fire that had consumed him. Warwick had barely touched him, and he had been uninjured, and I wonder wearily, not really curious right now, why he had burst into flames as he had. Perhaps his stress had just gotten too high? Warwick had said that they could create a blazing fire when they were threatened. No doubt being the cause of his brother’s certain death had drawn the reaction from Dane.
Warwick chokes. I freeze and whip my head toward him. His eyes are open now, but they’re roving all around, unseeing. He’s choking on each breath, and his face is losing colour as I watch, scrabbling at his throat.
He can’t breathe.
“No, no,” I murmur, a cold feeling sweeping through me. “Warwick, stay with me, okay? Calm down and stay with me.”
But it didn’t matter. For some reason, he simply could not get the necessary air. Terror runs through me. Have I done this to him? Did my antidote make it worse, and start to kill him even quicker?
I throw myself over him and place my hand at the pulse on his neck. It’s fluttering frantically and abnormally, rather than settling as I had hoped. He’s going to die.
Desperate, I brace myself on his sternum and, before I can even consider the wisdom of it, I press down once, twice, three times. Then I draw back, tilt his head back, and breathe into his mouth.
Warwick needs air? Fine, he can take it from me. I’ve got plenty. I can spare him some.
“Come on, Warwick, we can do this,” I say through gritted teeth.
Over and over again, I pump his chest and then breathe for him, feeling the way that his struggles weaken beneath me. It seems to go on forever, but it can’t have been more than a few minutes, the seconds dragging on. It’s futile, a voice in the back of my mind tries to convince me. He’s dying, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, his heartbeat slowing with every breath.
It isn’t until he goes still that I stop. I reach up with a trembling hand and feel for his pulse. There’s nothing there.
The antidote didn’t work. He was gone.
I don’t know how long I sat there. The Supernaturals didn’t stir. Dane remained slumped on the ground some distance away. Warwick remained still beside me, even as the last bit of light disappears and washes the field in darkness, lit only by the half-moon overhead.
This is so much worse than David, I reflect dully. David might have disappeared without a trace, but at least I never had to see his body, at least I never had to face the fact that I failed to save him.
It takes me a moment, feeling blank and tired, wishing that I could just close my eyes and never wake up, before I realise. I’m oddly warm, despite the cool night air blowing around me. I frown slightly.
Not just warm. Hot. As though I’m sitting right next to a fire.
Wait… fire?
I scramble back before I’m consciously aware of doing so. Just in time, too; I’m only just out of range when Warwick’s body suddenly bursts into flame.
I stare, stunned. What was happening?
I watch as the fire burns for a moment, and then fades as quickly as it came, Warwick’s clothes still burning off him. Once the fire is out completely, Warwick gasps and surges upward, coughing harshly as ash falls from his mouth. The cut from Dane on his shoulder is completely gone.
“What the… what the hell?” Warwick finally wheezes out, looking at his own hands, as stunned to see himself apparently alive and well as I am.
I don’t know what happened. I don’t want to think about how it happened. Warwick had been gone, and my whole world had fallen apart without him. Now he’s sitting up, staring around him. He’s alive.
He’s back with me.
I throw myself forward and Warwick turns in time to catch me as I slump forward into his arms, my body shaking as the tears finally come. He’s here, he’s safe, he’s alive.
As I clutch his arms, being held close as we both come to terms with what just happened, I know that I never want to let him go. Warwick is it for me, now. Losing him had been the worst thing in the world, and I never want to go through that again.
I never want to be apart from him, ever.
Warwick
I don’t think any of us slept last night. The sun dawns, and finds the three of us sitting around our cramped, dining table, cooling cups of untouched coffee before us. I can see the dark shadows beneath Dane’s and Luciana’s eyes, and I doubt I look any better.
Not a word had been spoken between us for an hour, when Dane and I arrived back to find Luciana in the kitchen. She had asked us what had happened to the Supernaturals, and we simply told her that they had been dealt with. She didn’t ask for details, and we didn’t give them. Some things, after all, were better left unsaid.
As the first rays of sun sneak in through the window, Dane finally stirs.
“More coffee?” he asks, his voice startling loud in the silence.
“Yeah, thanks,” I say, pushing my cup away.
Luciana just nods silently. Dane carefully grips the handles of each mug and carries them to the kitchen. When he turns the tap in the sink on, the world somehow feels a little bit more normal, as though the strange atmosphere that had fallen over the house was starting to dissipate. It makes me rouse from my hunched over position in order to stretch.
No matter how many times I think about it, the events of the last few hours just don't seem entirely real. Between Dane being kidnapped, and waking up to Luciana weeping in my arms, nothing seemed to make sense anymore.
Over the last few hours of thought, however, I’ve managed to piece together a few pieces of information.
First, Luciana’s antidote seems to have worked. Rather than purging the poison instantly, however, it worked after I had already died, forcing me into regeneration. It wasn’t what Luciana had wanted but, honestly, it was better than I had ever expected.
Secondly, Dane seems to have forced himself into his own regeneration without me laying a hand on him, much to my relief. His was the scream that I had heard as I blacked out. We still don’t know how it happened.
And, thirdly, the Supernaturals had been taken out without a single weapon, they’re guns lying beside them. When we asked, Luciana had quietly told us that she had done it, but didn’t know how, just that she had pushed the air and thrown them back.
So many revelations and too little time to digest them. But the world was moving on, and it was time for us to do the same.
“How are you guys feeling?” I ask.
It’s a broad question that opens us up to a lot of discussion, something that I’m not sure we’re ready for. But ignoring this isn’t going to work.
“Tired,” Dane says from the sink, filling the kettle and setting it to boil. Then he sighs and leans against the table, eyeing us both. “A bit ashamed. I can’t believe I let them get me so easy.”
I grimace. Hearing Dane blame himself sounded as wrong as hearing it from Luciana yesterday.
“Don’t,” I say instantly. “We all know what happened. I was reckless and I led them right to our door. We didn’t even know they were coming.”
“It wasn’t just your fault, Warwick,” Dane says, a humourless smile curling at his lips. “I got complacent, too. We grew comfortable and we weren’t as careful as we should have been.”
“Does that mean you’ll have to leave?�
�� Luciana asks, looking between us.
Dane and I glanced at one another. We hadn’t spoken about it, yet. Normally, the answer would be a straight yes. But we had spent the last several years building our lives here. It wouldn’t be that easy just to abandon it all.
“Not yet,” Dane finally answers for us. “The Supernaturals tend to work in isolated groups. Just because one lot found us, it doesn’t mean they all know. Actually, the fact that only four of them were here says a lot; if more of them knew, we would have been overwhelmed by them.”
I nod; I had thought the same. Cautiously, I like to think that we’re safe, though Dane and I will be keeping an eye out for anything unusual, and keeping to ourselves for the time being.
“I’m glad,” Luciana murmurs. “As long as you think it’s safe.”
“Our lives will never be safe,” I say, grimacing. “That’s just the way it is.”
I glance at her and wonder if I will see wariness or revulsion. This can’t be the sort of life she wants. But, instead, she just nods seriously, open acceptance on her face. Then she sits back.
“I looked further in my father’s journal,” she says unexpectedly.
I blink.
“Why?” I ask, frowning.
“My father only dedicated the first half of his journal to farm instructions,” Luciana explains. “The rest was a personal journal addressed to me. I’ve never looked at it. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what he had to say.” She pauses. “I haven’t read the entire story. But, from what I did see, it looks like my mother was a psychic.”
It doesn’t surprise me. It was what I had thought the moment Luciana told me what happened. Luciana probably had never even considered it, and would likely have put anything odd that happens around her down to coincidence.
“I don’t even know what to do with the information,” Luciana says, shaking her head. “Later, I’ll read more… maybe my father will finally explain what happened. For now, though…”
