Phoenix Rising

by Corrina Lawson

  Alec moved aside Lego blocks and black dress shoes, found sneakers and knelt in front of her.

  “I think these should be okay.” Alec slipped the sneakers over her feet. “They fit me when I was twelve.”

  She put her hands on his shoulders. He was so strong. “They’re as good as any glass slipper, Alec.”

  And he was the closest thing to a Prince Charming that she’d ever find in real life. I won’t let anything hurt him, ever.

  He rose and kissed her cheek, a soft brush of lips against skin. “You’re welcome, counselor.”

  Happily, his touch didn’t send off more waves of pain in her head. She wiggled her feet, the comfort almost compensation for the headache. “This is wonderful. I felt a little too Bruce Willis there for a second.”

  Alec smiled again. “Yippee kai yay. You didn’t need a machine gun either.”

  “We’re not out of the building yet.”

  “If you’re on your feet, it should be no problem to smash our way out.”

  “My feet aren’t the problem. My head is.” She let him tie the shoes. Taking care of her seemed to calm him. It sure as hell calmed her.

  “Why didn’t you ditch the jacket for the T-shirt?”

  “The sleeve is stuck to all the blood seeping from my hand.”

  He winced. “I’ll get bandages. One second.”

  As soon as he left, she unbuttoned the jacket and slid out her good arm. This was going to hurt. Ah, well, next to her headache, it was a pinprick. She gritted her teeth and pulled off the other sleeve with a jerk.

  “Ouch!” She clutched the hand to her chest and doubled over. Fresh blood trickled down her wrist and arm.

  Alec rushed back in and dumped some bandages on the bed. “I told you to wait for me.” He sat and pulled her against him. Their telepathic connection clicked into place without effort.

  “I thought it was better to do it myself.”

  “Let me see, Beth.”

  She let him take her hand and shivered, cold again. The pounding increased. Alec’s thoughts came through loud and clear. He wanted to fix her hand. He was also noticing her breasts. She sighed. A headache. Couldn’t she have a better excuse to be not in the mood than that stupid cliché? Of course, there was also the bleeding and the men with guns wanting to take them prisoner.

  She reached for the T-shirt. “Let me get the shirt on first, Alec. Please. I’m cold.”

  He flushed. “Right.”

  He protected her hand as she slipped it through the sleeve. She fell back on the bed, dizzy.

  “It hurts that much?” he asked. “The headache?”

  “The headache’s worse but I’m a wuss. It’s the bleeding that is making my head spin.”

  “You bandaged my bloody hands, remember? You’re not that much of a wuss.” He smiled, trying to relax her.

  “It’s different when it’s your own blood.”

  “Easy, counselor. You’ll be fixed up in a minute.”

  She suspected it would take her much longer than a minute to recover from today. If they got out of here. He took a warm, wet cloth and wiped away the blood. How had he gotten it that warm? Oh. Duh. Firestarter.

  She looked away from what he was doing so she couldn’t see the blood. Alec discarded the washcloth on the floor.

  “How’s the headache?”

  “The same. Let’s go.”

  He slathered antibiotic lotion on her hand. “Can you walk now? Run?”

  She hissed at the cold ointment against the gash. “I’ll have to.”

  “Not good enough.” He ripped open a sterile bandage packet. “You need control. We’ll start now. Help me.”

  “Excuse me?” She tried to grab her hand back. He kept it tight in his grip.

  “Stay in my head and think of amping up my TK.”

  “Why?”

  He grinned. “There’s flap of skin on your hand that I want to reattach. That’ll stop the bleeding without stitches.”

  “What?” She sat up. “Are you kidding?”

  “I can fix your hand. And maybe if you see what I do, you’ll see how to control your headache.”

  “Um, excuse me, but have you done anything like this before?”

  “First time.” He grinned.

  “That’s not funny. What if it doesn’t work?”

  He pointed to the bandages. “Then I’ll do it the usual way.”

  She grabbed his wrist. “What if instead of reattaching the skin, you do something else, like make half my hand disappear?”

  He blinked. “C’mon. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “How do you know? You said it was your first time.”

  “You don’t trust me, counselor?”

  “This is not a game!”

  He sat next to her on the bed. “No, it’s not. We’re in trouble. You can’t leave a blood trail and we might need your telepathy. So let me fix your hand then the headache, if I can.”

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Okay, give it your best shot.”

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  “What if my gift does something strange to yours again?”

  “You mean like give me greater molecular control and hotter fire?”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “I can take care of you.”

  She was about to protest that she didn’t need him to take care of her but realized that was not true. She needed him.

  “Fine. But if you break my hand, you’re creating me a new one.”

  “Deal.”

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on her telepathic connection with Alec. Something shifted in his head. Her hand tingled, like when it fell asleep. She resisted the urge to shake it and instead focused on what Alec was doing with his TK.

  She didn’t have words to describe it. There seemed to be movement coming from his mind but she couldn’t see anything. She felt a force flowing out and figuratively stepped out of the way. Her hand was engulfed in that strange energy. She winced, gritted her teeth and lost the connection to Alec. She gnawed at the place where she’d bitten her lip earlier. Coward, that’s what she was.

  She took a deep breath and thought about getting back to Alec’s mind. Her telepathy instantly made her wish a reality. Through his eyes, she saw images that looked like slides under a microscopic lens: long, green, furry strings.

  It took her a moment to realize that the strings were threads from the green guard jacket. Alec was picking them out of her hand before he resealed the wound. His TK flicked the fibers aside like brushing away lint. When he finished, he paused and put the flap of skin in place with his thumb.

  “Ready for this?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  She closed her eyes.

  He held her hand tight, holding down her wrist and her fingers. She clutched his shoulder. His shirt was hot and sweaty. Pain jabbed into her hand. She jerked. Alec held the hand fast for a second, then let it go.

  “Should I look?”

  “Damn right, you should look.”

  She opened her eyes and brought her hand to her face. She couldn’t see the wound. She brought it closer to her eyes. All that was left was a thin white line where the gash had been.

  “Not perfect but damn good, right?”

  “Damn good, Dr. Farley.” She flexed her hand. It didn’t hurt. Her head still did, unfortunately. “You were right, I saw what you did with the TK. But I still couldn’t tell how you did it. I felt you imagining walls and a door but I’ve done that and it doesn’t work for very long.”

  “You need practice.”

  “Yeah.” She stood. “There’s no time.”

  He stroked her hair. “We fix the headache, you’re an asset. If we don’t, you’re a liability. You want that?”

  “How?”

  “Watch.”

  “Watch what—”

  He kissed her lips.

  Heat passed between them, a coiled desire, waiting to envelop both of them. It flowed from his mouth
to hers, binding them together. She dug her fingers into his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her waist. She should break this kiss. She didn’t want to.

  “There’s no time for this, Alec!”

  “It’s the quickest way to get our powers to work together. Pay attention to what’s going on in your head while we’re connected.”

  Right, as if it would be easy to concentrate on her mind and not her body, with him kissing her like this. He deepened the kiss. Oh, hell. She couldn’t imagine not wanting him when he touched her like this. She let herself hug him tighter and imagined opening a door and letting him in.

  “Wall off the headache, counselor. Think of it being gone and it will be. Visualize. Wish for it.”

  “Trying.”

  He pushed her down on the bed. She tried to ignore his hands on her because if she focused on that, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else. He showed her the images he used in his mind to control his fire: walls, doors and windows that kept the fire and TK locked up when he wanted and let them out when he wanted. She caught glimpses of metaphorical fire dancing behind his walls.

  “Try it!”

  She imagined sweeping up her telepathy and sealing it in a closet.

  “That’s it, that’s right. Now lock the door. Imagine a key and put it in your pocket. You can do this.”

  He stopped kissing her. She cuddled against him, imagined a key and put it away in a pocket.

  “Wow.”

  Her head cleared, the pain and fuzziness gone. She sat up, rubbing her temples.

  He hugged her. “It worked, right?”

  “The headache’s gone. Just like that.” She felt only a vague ache. All the pressure behind her eyes had vanished. “How can it be that simple?”

  “I told you it would be easy.” He grinned.

  The door to the room opened wide. “Easy isn’t a word I’d use for this situation.”

  Her father stood there, glaring at them.

  “You’ve been in here ten minutes.” Philip was gruff and accusing. “Too long. We have to move.”

  Alec stood. “We needed that time.”

  Philip raised his eyebrows. “I see.”

  Oh, they were going to take time to fight over her again, were they? Great. “Stop it. My headache’s gone thanks to him.”

  “Usually headaches prevent what you were just doing.” Philip sighed and reached into his pocket. “Here.” He tossed a small, shiny black cube at Alec. Alec caught it, frowning.

  “It’s a jammer for the tracking device that Lansing implanted inside you,” Philip said. “In case we’re separated when we’re out, you’ll have it.”

  “I have a tracking device inside me?” Alec started looking over his arms.

  “How do you think Lansing found you in Maine?” Philip turned to her. “Where’s the gun I gave you?”

  She tapped the pocket of the sweatpants. She’d moved it there from a pocket in the guard’s jacket.

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  “Wait, how do I get the tracking device out?” Alec asked.

  “You’re the one with TK,” Philip said. “When we have time, stop, search for it inside your thigh and get it out. The jammer will work until then.”

  They followed her father down the hallway. It was just like him to have some sort of tech device just when it was needed. His steps were now brisk and light, his shoulders straighter, and she no longer picked up continual pain from him. He’d healed, as she’d wished him to heal. How?

  “What happened to you, Philip?”

  “No time to explain.”

  And she sensed he didn’t want to talk about it in front of Alec. He still didn’t trust anyone but her. “You better explain to me, Philip. Now.”

  “Fine. I have an unconscious healing power, something akin to internal telekinesis, that fixes my body when I’m hurt. When you touched my mind and ordered me to get better, you clicked my power up to a conscious level. So I fixed the artery where the stitches had ripped open.”

  That was too much to absorb in one chunk. Healing powers. Dying. To say nothing of the earlier memories, with Lansing calling Philip “son”.

  “You have a healing power?”

  “Yes, and you used it to save my life.”

  She flushed. She’d saved his life. She’d done something right with her telepathy. And she’d made him more powerful, just the way she’d increased Alec’s fire. Was she some sort of catalyst? If so, she had no control over it. I better be very careful what I wish for.

  She tensed as they entered the living room but relaxed when the headache didn’t start up again and the soldiers’ thoughts didn’t crowd her. But she didn’t need telepathy to read Gabe’s grim mood as he looked over the bank of monitors.

  “They got past my blocks down there,” Gabe said. “Cameras are back on. I’ve tapped into their audio feed from here. They’re on full alert now and reviewing the video feed. They’ll know where we’ve gone soon.”

  Daz looked over his shoulder. “Where are the guards?”

  “Stationed right outside the hallway that dead-ends to Lansing’s elevator.”

  Alec walked over to them. “They coming up here?”

  Gabe shook his head. “Soon. But if we go back down there, we walk into a trap.”

  “No, we don’t. We go down and I blast out the back of the elevator. Brand new exit.” Alec waved a hand at the coffee table. One of the legs crumbled. The table tipped over, spilling the gargoyle on it to the floor. The ceramic shattered into pieces.

  Beth thought back to how easily Alec had fixed her hand. What were his limits now?

  “Good enough,” Daz resettled his gun against his shoulder. “Let’s move.”

  Her father hung back as they gathered to leave. She opened her mind and read Philip’s intent. Dammit. He was planning on staying behind to kill Lansing. No time to argue with him. She sent a telepathic order to Philip to come with her and prayed it would work on him. He stepped close and shot her a nasty look.

  “We are going to have a long talk after this, young lady.”

  Alec reached to open the door. Beth caught a flash of thought just behind it.

  “Wait, Alec!”

  He turned to her. “Why?”

  “Lansing’s on the other side.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Daz,” Alec said. “Cover the door.”

  Alec stepped to the side. He let his fire gather inside him and uncoil inside his brain, ready to strike.

  The door opened. Lansing closed it behind him. Alec stepped into the open, raised his hand and used the TK to slam his supposed father into the door.

  Lansing hit with a thud and fell to his knees with a grunt. “You’re pathetic, Alec.”

  “Search him.”

  Daz pulled him upright. Gabe found a handgun in an ankle holster and a knife in a forearm sheath. Daz took out a smart phone from Lansing’s pocket.

  “I’ll take that,” Drake said.

  Daz tossed it. Drake put it in his sling.

  Lansing glared at Alec, who glared back. The director’s tweed jacket started to smoke. Beth grabbed Alec’s hand.

  “That’s enough.”

  “Not nearly,” Alec said.

  “You’re a soldier, not a murderer.” She gripped his hand tight.

  Drake grabbed Lansing by the front of his shirt and slammed him into the wall again. “What, nothing to say?”

  “Not to you, mongrel,” Lansing said through clenched teeth.

  Alec squeezed Beth’s hand, thinking of the gash he’d healed and how pale she had been. This bastard deserved to die. Maybe he should let Drake do what he obviously wanted to do.

  “Please, Alec.”

  It was her mental voice, so worried, that reached him, not the words.

  “We’ll take him with us and use him to get out of here.”

  “Can you get him to call off the goons down there first?” Daz asked.

  Drake wrenched one of Lansing’s arms behind hi
m and jabbed the barrel of a small .22 into the thick hair of his captive’s skull. “Do it.”

  “Not a chance, boy.”

  “We don’t need him,” Beth said. “All we need to do is punch in the code on the security setup in the kitchen.”

  “If we knew the code,” Gabe said.

  Beth smiled. “I know it.”

  “Not possible,” Lansing hissed.

  Beth crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. “I’m a telepath, remember?”

  Lansing scowled.

  “Show Gabe,” Alec said.

  It took about thirty seconds while Gabe punched in the code into the main computer. He counted seconds until the computer beeped and reported it had given a coded stand-down order to the Resource guards.

  Drake kept the .22 on his prisoner while they waited. Given that Drake was several inches shorter and had to wrench Lansing lower to keep the gun against his temple, that had to be uncomfortable. Good. Let Lansing suffer.

  “Nothing more to say?” Alec said to him.

  “Nothing that you’ll hear, since Drake and the girl got to you. What a pathetic waste of time you were.”

  The tweed jacket started to smoke again. “Don’t push it,” Alec said.

  “Alarm’s off, back to normal down there,” Gabe said.

  “The goons?”

  “Returning to their quarters,” Gabe said.

  “That fast? Gotta be a trick,” Daz said.

  “It’s not,” Beth said. “The director’s word is law around here. Unlike all of you, his security force was brought in to take orders. And they follow those orders without question.”

  Alec didn’t look back as they left the penthouse and all Lansing’s crazy plans for him behind them. Lansing had sounded utterly serious about the idea of tracking down and taking out Putin and other world leaders. And he’d nearly bought into it.

  Drake kept a close hold on his captive in the elevator, probably cutting off circulation in that arm.

  They hated each other, that was clear. Why?