Phoenix Legacy

by Corrina Lawson

  He rushed from his hiding place, leapt up onto the front porch and blew the lock off the door with a shotgun blast. The door banged open inward. Philip entered low. A bullet screamed over his head. He took out the man firing from the entranceway with the Glock. He heard the thump as the man hit the floor.

  Just how many men did Genet have, anyway?

  “Del!” No sense hiding. They knew he was here. Let them come.

  No answer. Damn. Stairs to his left, the rest of the house laid out to his right. He saw movement in the kitchen at the back of the house. Stairs it was. He’d have the advantage of high ground.

  The handgun in his right hand, the shotgun in his left, Philip pounded up the stairs. The railing that overlooked the downstairs was to his left. There was a doorway at the end of that. To his right were two rooms, both with closed doors.

  Damn. A lot of rooms to clear.

  “Del!” he yelled again.

  “Hawk!”

  Her answering bellow, nearly as loud as his own, came from the right. He backed toward her voice, keeping an eye on all the doors to his side and the one at the end of the hallway.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her rush out of the door closest to the end of this side of the hallway. He sidestepped to her, keeping his body in front of her. She put her hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m okay,” she whispered into his ear. “You look like hell.”

  He grunted. He heard movement behind and spun to encounter Dr. Cheshire. She put her hand on his wrist. “He’s with me. He gave me a gun.”

  He had no bullets to waste, so he didn’t kill Cheshire. Boots pounded up the steps. The door at the other end of the hallway opened. Genet appeared, holding an Uzi. Philip fired first, driving Genet back into the room.

  He shoved the handgun into his pants and leveled the shotgun. Genet leaned out the other doorway, seeking a clear shot. Philip pulled the trigger. The blast destroyed the doorframe and drove Genet back again. Another guard appeared at the top of the steps. Philip pumped and fired again. The guard fell backwards down the steps.

  “Cover!” Philip didn’t wait for Lily to grasp what he wanted; he pumped the shotgun again and charged the room where Genet was hiding. He had to get that Uzi away from the man. A few feet before the door, he slid, feet first. People tended to fire waist- or head-high.

  He fired the shotgun again as he hit the door. The wood splintered, and he was into the room. He grabbed the handgun and shot blindly, hoping to find Genet before he was cut down.

  He heard a muffled cry of pain to his right. Damn, he’d gotten lucky. He whirled. Genet stood in the corner of the room, between windows, the Uzi dangling from the fingers of a bloody right arm.

  Philip pumped the shotgun and pulled the trigger. It jammed. Genet’s expression changed from fear to triumph. Philip tossed the shotgun at him. Genet instinctively ducked, Philip fired the handgun, but this time he heard the bullet break the window. No more lucky shots. A shard of glass sliced through the back of his hand, the same one with the damaged thumb.

  The thumb jerked, Philip lost his hold on the handgun and had no choice but to bull-rush Genet.

  He went in shoulder-first, his right side taking Genet square in the chest. He chopped downward with this forearm, slamming the Uzi out of Genet’s hand.

  Genet hit him hard on the side of the head with a closed fist. Dizziness hit, and Philip damned his previous head injury for not being fully healed. He lost his grip on Genet and stumbled back. Genet leapt past him, and Philip realized he was going for the Uzi.

  Philip felt the weapon against his back heel and kicked hard. He turned and saw the Uzi slide all the way out into the hallway. Genet kept going after it. Philip ran and followed him. As Genet closed his hands around the stock of the machine gun, Philip tackled him. Genet rolled hard, Philip felt wood crack and give way against his back, and suddenly they were falling.

  The force of Genet’s roll had broken the railing and sent them over the edge.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Philip twisted in midair, trying to get Genet on the bottom so he’d hit first, but it only worked halfway. They both hit hard on their sides. Philip felt something snap. A rib, he thought. He rolled to his feet. He’d landed in the living room, near the front door. Genet had hit near the fireplace.

  He couldn’t see the Uzi. Genet swore in a language that sounded like French but oddly off. He rushed to the fireplace and grabbed something off the mantel.

  Light flashed. Something metal moved. A sword! Philip swore and spit blood out of his mouth to clear his head. Genet rushed him. Philip went low and grabbed the leg of an end table and held it up as a shield.

  The edge of the blade sliced into the end table, near splitting it in two but deflecting it just enough to prevent Philip from being spitted.

  Genet laughed.

  Philip backed away and put the couch between them, expecting Genet’s guards to rush in at any moment. But he didn’t hear anyone else.

  He focused on his opponent. Genet had a two-handed grip on what seemed like a damned broadsword. “You always have a sword over the fireplace?” Philip asked to distract him. Why was Genet not more injured from the fall? He’d hit as hard as Philip had. And he’d been shot.

  “It’s poetic justice that I defeat you with the sword. I never did like modern weapons.” Genet leapt over the couch, showcasing impressive agility.

  But the move also left the man open. Philip went low, got under Genet’s guard and grabbed the sword hilt with both hands, trying to wrench it away.

  They were locked together, seemingly evenly matched.

  “I heard you were insane, Drake, but I have to say, I never expected you to smash a truck into a house. You could’ve killed your lady with that tactic.”

  “Never.” His entire right side was in agony, on fire from the smashed ribs. Warmth overwhelmed him, energy surged through him, and he laughed.

  Pain only gave him strength.

  He grinned. Genet’s eyes widened.

  “I’ll spit you like the bastard you are, Drake. You were a mistake Lansing should’ve fixed a long time ago.”

  He wrenched left to tear the sword from Philip’s grip. Philip hung on. “Lansing’s dead, and you will be soon.”

  “God’s eyes, you’re an arrogant son of a bitch. I can’t die, certainly not at your hands.”

  “That’s what they all say.” This was going on too damn long. All Genet had to do was hold him here until one of his armed minions had a clear shot, assuming any were still alive. Philip took a deep breath and released the pressure on the sword, just slightly.

  Genet felt it and seized the chance, as Philip hoped. Genet swung left, wildly. Philip ducked, the blade missing him by the smallest of margins, and grabbed Genet’s elbow with one hand. He pushed at Genet’s arm, forcing the sword to continue its arc.

  Before Genet even realized it, his own sword was buried deep in his side. He fell, shock on his handsome face. Philip grabbed the sword from his flailing hands and ran him through.

  Blood gushed from Genet’s mouth. He looked at Philip, incredulous.

  “I can’t die,” he whispered.

  “Everyone dies.”

  “Not me. This will be my kingdom,” Genet whispered, the color leaching from his face as the blood left his body. “They’ll kill you for this.”

  “That won’t do you any good.” Philip twisted the sword. Genet’s eyes rolled back in his head. His body went limp. It was only then that Philip noted Genet was wearing the tie with the three yellow lions against a red background that Del had mentioned.

  Whatever that meant to Genet, it hadn’t helped him.

  Philip heard a whimper behind him. Sword out, he spun toward the noise.

  “Hawk.” Del stood on the stairs, feeling far too euphoric that Genet was dead. “I found a phone in the room Genet was in.”

  “Get it, and let’s go.”

  “It’s a land line.”

 
Damn.

  He rushed up the stairs after her.

  She watched his back. She didn’t see anyone else downstairs. Maybe Hawk had killed them all. But he looked terrible—one whole side of his face was bruised, blood dripped down one arm, and he was holding his side. One of his hands was bloody too. She didn’t know how much his healing could do at once but it had to be at its limit.

  She wished she’d been a good enough shot to hit Genet, but they’d been moving too fast. She’d been scared of hitting Hawk.

  They rushed into the bedroom that Genet had come from. Cheshire had the receiver of the phone in his hand already. She grabbed it from him. “Help Hawk barricade the door,” she ordered.

  As they pushed the bed against the damaged door, she asked Hawk for Alec’s number. Hawk went to his knees as she was dialing. He gestured to her to give him the phone. Ringing. Thank God, it was ringing. She put the phone to his ear, listening. Someone must have picked up because he spoke. “Get here now, Alec. It’s a damned mess. Yes, we’re alive.” He took a deep breath and hissed in pain.

  She knelt next to him, keeping the phone steady. “Yes, I’m hurt. Del’s fine. Remaining combatants unknown. I’ll keep this line open but I need to watch, not talk.” He rattled off an address. Del set the receiver on the floor.

  Only then did he turn to her. “Del?”

  She hugged him, lightly, because his side seemed to hurt. Not satisfied, he pulled her so close that she had to push him away to breathe.

  “Easy, I’m real.” She took his face in her hands. “I knew you’d come.”

  Now that she was closer, she could see the fierce bruises all over his face. Blood covered his hand from a slash across the back of it. God knew what was wrong with his side. He’d hit hard when he fell.

  But he smiled. Hawk. She traced his jaw. “I thought messing you up was my job.”

  He kissed her, a light touch of his lips. Now was not the time, and he knew it. Finally, she allowed herself to be afraid and relieved all at the same time. He struggled to his feet, looking around the room again. “Help’s coming, we just need to hold them off until then. Stay away from the windows.” The phone squawked. He plucked the receiver off the floor and asked Alec for an ETA. She overheard Alec say, “Fifteen minutes” and something about a chopper.

  Hawk dropped the receiver. It dangled on its cord.

  He glared at Cheshire, really looking at the doctor for the first time since they’d entered the room. Cheshire hugged the wall, face scrunched up in horror.

  Hawk advanced on the doctor. Del curled her hand over his forearm. “Don’t.”

  “He’s as responsible for this as anyone. He knows who you are, where you live, what your child will be capable of. He’s too dangerous to survive.”

  “He helped me escape. He was as much Genet’s pawn as I was.”

  Hawk turned on her. “Oh, so he was forced to impregnate you without your consent.”

  “I promised to protect him.”

  Hawk growled. She’d been wrong. He hadn’t come down from combat yet. He was still a little berserk.

  “Lansing sold him a bill of goods about helping humanity. Genet threatened him. He’s sorry. He’s salvageable.”

  “He’s a threat to you and the child,” Hawk said.

  “You never intended to let me live from the moment you found out I was involved, did you, Drake?” Cheshire asked, his voice bitter.

  Dammit, Cheshire, shut up.

  “All I wanted to do was create a new life. All I needed was funding. Lansing was the only one who believed. After that, all the choices were bad.”

  Del stepped between the men. “I promised to protect him.”

  Hawk took a deep breath. “Get out of the way. Now’s the time.”

  “Do you remember what you said to me earlier today, Hawk? That maybe you’d been wrong to kill my parents, that maybe they’d been going to rescue me, not kill me.”

  He stepped back, as if she’d physically hit him. No, the blow was worse than striking him. He knew how to deal with that pain. This pain was his worst nightmare.

  But this was where she was going to draw the line for their new life. For them and for their son.

  “You saved my life that night, and I’m grateful. You couldn’t have picked differently, you couldn’t have risked my life on a guess.” She reached out and stroked Hawk’s bruised cheek. “But that’s not the case here. Cheshire’s not armed, he’s not threatening me at this moment, and he wants a chance to atone. I’m giving it to him. So are you.”

  “I’ve found it’s best to remove danger before someone is hurt,” he whispered.

  “He’s not all evil, any more than my parents were,” Del said. “Until that last night, they tried to be good parents, at least as much as they were able. Listen, he tried to protect me from Genet. He’s changed. He gets another chance.”

  Hawk’s shoulders slumped. “Is this what you want?”

  She nodded, very slowly, holding his gaze. Time seemed to stop, and no one existed save the two of them.

  “You don’t have to live this way any longer.”

  “I don’t know any other, Lily.”

  She blinked away tears, realizing he’d swapped back to calling her Lily. “I’ll show you. We could always do anything together.”

  He blinked. His own eyes were wet. “I’ll try.” He looked at Cheshire. “You live.”

  “Remind me to be ever so grateful,” Cheshire said. “Lansing lied, you kept me prisoner, Genet claimed I’d be honored at some court and now you vote, and I get to still live. Son of a bitch. I’m so tired of this.”

  “Now is not a good time to rant,” she snapped.

  “Why not now? He’ll try? And leave me twisting in the wind until he gets pissed off again? And will there be another vote when Farley gets here? Will he just twitch his hand and cremate me?” He shook his head. “All I wanted was to study DNA and help save people’s lives. But, no, that’s not good enough for anyone. So far as I know, Drake, you’re just obeying her now and planning to kill me later.”

  Hawk put up his hands. “No, we’re done.”

  “You bet we are.”

  That didn’t sound right. Del reached for the handgun that she’d shoved into her pants and put her hand around the grip. Cheshire sounded unhinged. She’d worked bars with drunks for years. She knew unhinged. Edgy, logic circling back on itself, eyes wide and rambling. He sounded, she thought, like Hawk’s mother on that last night, her voice cracking, claiming she’d killed them all to the Feds. Taking blame for all that bloodshed.

  Hawk’s mother had snapped that night. All those years, she’d been a victim until something had finally broken loose. Cheshire’s manner gave her the same vibe. He was going to attack.

  “Anger is good, it shows you’re not broken. It’s a new beginning. We’ll sort it all out,” she said to him.

  “One side wants to use my work to benefit some court of immortals. The other side wanted a weapon. And the child’s father wants to kill me. I know too much, you resent me and what I did. I see it all clearly now. I’m just a pawn tossed in the wind.”

  His words were slurred together and spit dribbled out of his mouth. Del tightened her grip on the gun.

  “If you’ve had a normal life until now, that makes you lucky. People find a way to hurt each other all the time, without benefit of psychic abilities. You need medical care and counseling for trauma. I’ll help, once you’re better. You’ll be able to go back to work.”

  Yes, she’d save him, like she hadn’t saved her parents. She could look her son in the eye and tell him his life wasn’t bought with blood. So could Hawk.

  “Work for you, you mean,” Cheshire said, using the wall as support. “A minion. Fuck it, I’m a goddamned minion. I’ve had enough of being told what to do! I’m not going to look over my shoulder the rest of my life. It ends now.”

  His arm snapped forward, revealing a gun. He fired before she or Hawk could react. Hawk crumpled to the floor, clutc
hing his shoulder.

  Anger surged through her. The world narrowed to her finger on the trigger of the gun. Time seemed to stop as she pulled the trigger. This, she thought, must be what Hawk feels when he attacks.

  Her aim was true. Cheshire was thrown into the wall by the force of the bullet. His blood splattered all over the wallpaper, and he slid to the floor, lifeless.

  Now she knew what killing felt like.

  “You fucking idiot! I wanted to save you!” she yelled at the dead man, waving the gun. “Where the hell did he get that gun?” she muttered as she fell to her knees at Hawk’s side.

  “Must have been mine. I dropped it in here when Genet attacked,” whispered Hawk.

  “Don’t talk. Just hold on.” Blood covered his chest. Oh, God, this was not happening, this was not happening. She couldn’t lose him now. This is my fault! Tears stung her eyes, near blinding her. She dropped the gun, pulled off her sweatshirt and pushed it against the hole in his upper chest, trying to staunch the blood flow.

  “Heal, dammit, Hawk, heal yourself.”

  His eyes flickered. There was life in them yet. “Blood loss bad,” he whispered. “At my limit. Can’t fix it.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “Safe. You’re safe. Alec’s coming.” He closed his eyes.

  “Goddammit, I am not safe, not without you. Jesus, Hawk, stop being a fucking martyr.” She slapped his face. “Don’t you give up on me. Heal.”

  His eyes opened again. He licked his lips. “Better off without me, Lily.”

  “I don’t care about your stupid fucking self-pity. Heal.”

  His forehead furrowed. “Will…try.”

  But his eyes began to roll back in his head. No, she’d not lose him, she couldn’t, she needed him, their baby needed him. His eyes flickered again. At least he was trying to stay with her now. He was fighting. Where the hell was Alec? They needed help, they needed a hospital, he needed to live. She could hardly see through all her tears.

  She yelled Alec’s name, remembering that Hawk had left the line open, yelling for an ambulance, yelling at the phone for help. She hoped he heard but didn’t want to fumble for the phone to check.