by Amy Sumida
The baby girl stared at me solemnly and then broke into delighted laughter; shaking all of her limbs at me at once. A happy dance.
“I think you're forgiven,” Banning murmured as he reached forward to stroke the baby's hair.
“This one's got a good grip,” Cerberus announced as he showed off the little boy.
Cer had the baby cradled in the curve of one arm while he tried to tickle him with his free hand. The boy grinned as he held off the attack, one tiny hand wrapped around Cerberus' pointer.
“He saved Daniels' life and got killed for his kindness,” I said sadly.
“His name is Elias,” a male voice whipped our heads around.
Before the remains of Vivian's cell stood a man with dark auburn hair and a trim but athletic physique. My throat went dry. He was the most beautiful man I've ever seen; features like a god. Better than a god. Lips made for kissing and arms made for holding a woman. I could lie within his embrace forever and be content to simply stare into those gleaming gold eyes.
I blinked and frowned before I shook my head free of the Phoenix's charisma. Wow. So, the allure is more potent when the Phoenix is of the sex you're attracted to. That had been quite a whammy he put on me. And yet, he hadn't noticed my utter, if brief, obsession with him; his molten stare was set on baby Shava.
“She is Shavalina,” he added in a broken whisper. Then he lifted his relieved gaze to me. “And you, I presume, are Elaria Tanager.”
“I am. And who are you?”
“Forgive my manners; I was overcome.” He bowed, very old world. “I am Rathlin Aryana, Shava's brother.”
“Her brother?” I asked in surprise. “I didn't know she had a brother.”
“I've been looking for her ever since I felt her death.” Rathlin moved over to me and smiled sadly down at his sister. “And then I felt her rebirth. May I?” He looked up at me as he held out his arms.
Before I could say anything, Shava rolled herself out of my arms, in the direction of her brother. I made a shocked squeak, but Rathlin caught her with a chuckle.
“I got you, Shava. Don't worry, Sister; you're safe now.” He cuddled her close. “I'm taking you home.”
I blinked away more tears. “I'm so sorry. We were taken at the same time but imprisoned in different places. We only discovered Shava's whereabouts a few hours ago. By then, the human scientist who abducted us had already killed her and consumed her.”
“Consumed her?” Rathlin blinked at me in horror.
“He was killing your people, taking their ashes, and turning them into a potion that transferred their magic to the drinker,” Odin explained. “Shava would have been lost to us if Elaria hadn't used her magic to sing the scientist into ashes.”
“Shava and Elias' ashes separated, and they were reborn,” Glinda added.
“Then I owe you a great debt, Spellsinger,” Rathlin said solemnly.
“No, you don't.” I shook my head. “Your sister was helping me, and I helped her in return. I just wish I could have saved her before she was killed and that failure will haunt me. This, at least, eases some of my guilt.”
“Do not carry any guilt for this.” Rathlin laid a hand on my shoulder. “Shava would not want that. She told me about you, Elaria. She counted you as a friend, and one day”—he paused to bounce the baby—“when she is grown, she will renew that friendship. Nothing is lost. She's just a little ahead of schedule.”
“Thanks; that helps,” I murmured.
“I guess you'll be taking this little guy too,” Cerberus said as he handed Elias over.
“Yes; he has family waiting anxiously for his return.” Rathlin settled the babies over his shoulders so he could hold one in each arm. “They'll be overjoyed.”
“And there are sixteen more of your people waiting to be reborn,” I added. “I have their ashes in Kyanite.”
“You have their ashes?” He frowned. “Why haven't they been reborn yet?”
“The scientist kept the ashes in steel canisters that prevented your people from rising,” Torin explained. “We weren't ready to handle sixteen babies so we left them in the canisters.”
“I wouldn't want to transport sixteen babies either.” Rathlin's face brightened with his laughter. “May I come by to retrieve them?”
“Of course.” I frowned. “But you've never been to my kingdom; how will get there? I could take you now, but it seems risky to transport the babies twice.”
“Ah, yes.” Rathlin pressed his lips together in thought as he expertly bounced the babies. “Will you collect the canisters while I take the children home and then meet me back here?”
“That will work,” I agreed. Then I looked down at Shava. “I guess this is goodbye.” I kissed her velvet cheek. “Thank you for everything you've taught me, Shava. I look forward to having you as a friend again.”
The baby giggled, and her brother smiled at me gratefully before the three of them disappeared.
Chapter Forty-Three
I was back at the research facility within a few minutes, holding a gym bag full of canisters, minus Odin and Glinda, who had taken Vivian home to recuperate. Cerberus and my men had waited at the location to keep it secure until my return. Rathlin took a bit longer to show up, and when he did, he was a bit flushed. Not usually a good look on a redhead, but I doubted anything could make a phoenix look bad. Instead of splotchy and sweaty, Rathlin looked as if he'd just rolled out of bed after having marathon sex.
“I'm sorry to keep you waiting,” Rathlin apologized immediately. “I was delayed by the Pyre.”
“No worries.” I handed him the bag. “Here are the canisters.”
“Thank you, Elaria.” He bowed his head as he accepted them. “I have something for you as well; an invitation.”
“To what?”
“To meet the Phoenix Council,” Rathlin announced with breathless astonishment. “The Pyre has invited an outsider to a Nest for the first time in history.”
“Oh,” I whispered and looked at my men.
“Only you, I'm afraid,” he added. “It's a miracle that they granted access to one outsider; I didn't want to push them by asking for more.”
“I understand.” I murmured. “Tell them that I'm honored but—”
“Go, little bird,” Torin interrupted me. “Don't shun such a tribute on behalf of us.”
“You're sure?” I slid my stare over them all.
“You can tell us all about it when you get home.” Declan kissed my cheek and gave me a gentle nudge in Rathlin's direction.
The other men added their agreement.
“I'm so fucking jealous right now,” Cerberus growled good-naturedly.
“Thanks for helping me with this, Cer.”
“No biggie, El.” Cer flicked up a shoulder. “Have fun with the Firebirds.”
“Thanks.” I gave my guys an excited look. “All right. I'll see you at home then.”
I kissed my men goodbye before I took Rathlin's hand. He pulled me into an embrace, and the laboratory disappeared with the rushing of wings. A bright but masculine bedroom took its place; huge windows, a domed skylight, and thick-limbed furniture. I lifted a brow at the enormous bed, set on a marble pedestal like a piece of art, then swiveled my stare to Rathlin.
His expression twitched with a tinge of embarrassment. “I apologize for the intimacy; this is obviously my suite. I always land here when I come home. I didn't consider that it might be inappropriate to bring you here.”
“I get it. I'm just teasing you.” I pushed his shoulder playfully.
“Oh.” He laughed in relief. “Shava said you were amusing.”
“Where is she?” I looked around as if she might be waiting in a cradle nearby.
“Our mother has her. She's fine. As I mentioned; Shava's just a little ahead of schedule. Phoenixes cycle through the responsibility of raising children. We have three generations of Phoenixes on Earth. We began in the normal way; parents raising their progeny. Then, when it was time for the First Gene
ration to be reborn, the Third Generation, grandchildren of the first, cared for them. Once they come of age, it was time for the Second Generation to be reborn and the circle was established; the First once more raising the Second, and then the Second raising the Third. We've continued in this manner for all the years that we've been here. My sister and I are Third Generation, currently on the cusp of rebirth. Our parents have been eagerly anticipating the opportunity to raise us again.”
“I'd wondered about that. How fascinating. I suppose you've perfected parenthood.”
“After the first few times, it does get easier. But I think that's due more to the memories we take with us than any improved parenting skills. After raising the same child over and over, you learn to fix your mistakes. But the process is also about growth, and in every incarnation, we change just a little. If we didn't, there would be no point to it.”
“Life is change,” I agreed. “Stasis is a type of death.”
“Exactly.” He grinned and offered me his arm. “Shall we? The Pyre awaits.”
I took Rathlin's arm, feeling a little silly about being escorted like a lady while wearing worn blue jeans. But it isn't clothes that make a woman a queen, is it? I lifted my chin and strode confidently out of Rathlin's suite and into the labyrinthine corridors of the Nest. Gleaming, golden ceilings swept above us like extended wings, their glossy angles reflecting sunlight down to the hardwood floor. Beautiful people nodded to us respectfully as we passed; welcoming smiles spiced with excited fascination. Rathlin wasn't the only one thrilled by the prospect of an outsider in the Nest. My breath started coming faster, my heart beating rapidly under the strain of magical charisma, bombarding me left and right. I felt like a pinball bouncing off bumpers, just waiting for the slam of a paddle to send me reeling.
Rathlin glanced at me and then steered us into a quiet sitting room. He eased me onto a chair and knelt before me.
“Now you know one of the reasons why we don't allow outsiders in the Nest,” he said gently. “Our magic can be overpowering with only one of us but when you stand among the flock, it's—”
“A bit much,” I finished for him with a rueful laugh. “I'm good; I just needed a moment to adjust.”
Rathlin lifted a skeptical brow.
“I'm related to sirens,” I explained. “I know all about magical allure. I think that helps me process it faster. Not as fast as a Jinn, but fast enough.”
“I suppose you would. And yes, Jinn are immune to our charms. Some of our elders, back on our home planet, Venestri, believe that our magic stems from a related source; perhaps our gods were siblings. The Jinn are born of Fire as well, just a smokeless version.” He cocked his head at me. “How did you find out about them? Did Shava tell you?”
“I introduced Shava to a jinn and noted his lack of reaction,” I admitted. “I didn't know for sure that he was immune until you confirmed it.”
“Well done.” Rathlin helped me to my feet. “I'll trust that you'll tell me if you start feeling overwhelmed again.”
“Sure. Thanks, Rathlin.”
“Call me Rath, if you please.”
“Okay, Rath. I like that; it's a strong name.”
“Vengeful even.” He waggled his brows at me.
I laughed long and loud. “You're pretty amusing yourself.”
Rath bowed his head in acknowledgment of the compliment and escorted me back into the corridor. We started striding steadily through the hallways once more. Without the blasts of attraction hitting me, I was able to focus better on my surroundings. I eyed every piece of art lining the hallways and glanced in open rooms as we passed. Gold and fire was a consistent theme along with vaulted ceilings and enormous windows. I caught glimpses of blue sky through the glass but that was all, giving me the impression that we were very high up.
My suspicion was confirmed when Rath ushered me into the Council Chambers.
Three rings of stadium seating circled the round room, with a slice removed for the entrance. A peaked dome of filigree gold crowned the space, letting in fresh air and sunshine. Light filtered all the way to the glass floor; a window beneath our feet that presented a disconcerting, bird's-eye view of a lush valley. No furniture stood upon the glass; nothing to block that stomach-shivering sight. Phoenixes filled the tiered levels of benches around us, and every one of them turned eagerly toward me when I strode in on Rathlin's arm. He took me straight to the center of the room where a group of men and women stood waiting for us.
“This is Elaria Tanager, the Spellsinger who Shava was teaching,” Rathlin introduced me. “Elaria, the Phoenix Council surrounds us. They have flown in from all over the world to meet you.” He waved a hand toward the seated people, and they inclined their heads to me as one. “But these are the families of the sixteen Phoenixes you've returned to us.” He handed the bag of canisters to one of the men. “Lord Altruin, if you could distribute the ashes?”
“Oh, you're doing this now,” I noted in surprise.
“We wanted you to be here for this, Ms. Tanager,” Altruin said. “To share in our joy.”
“Thank you; I'm honored to be included,” I said softly.
“We are so grateful to you for bringing our children home,” one of the women said. “May Fire warm and renew you.”
“Thank you. May Air raise and refresh you,” I returned the counter blessing, much to the surprise of all the phoenixes there. Yeah; Shava taught me a little more than how to control Fire. “I'm overjoyed to have had a hand in your reunion.”
We, of course, had no idea which phoenix was in which canister so the containers were distributed among the families randomly. Each family took their canister and moved a few feet away from the others. With great flourish, they poured the ashes onto the glass floor simultaneously. Then they stepped back, eagerly watching the piles for their rising kin. The mounds of gray powder did start to vibrate and glow, but then they shivered down into a dull ember.
“What foul magic is this?” One of the men rushed forward and bent down to inspect a pile of ash.
“They have been bound too long,” another woman declared. “They can't reform; they don't have the strength.”
“They will,” Rathlin reassured them. “They just need some time to recover.”
The phoenixes shook their heads and pondered the ashes sadly. Some of the women started to weep. That sour clenching returned to my stomach. Had I come to a baby shower only to find it changed into a funeral?
“Is there anything you can do, Spellsinger?” Rath asked me quietly. “You helped my sister and Elias; perhaps you can help these children too?”
“I can at least try.” I stepped forward, avoiding the hopeful stares that followed me. Oh, fuck; please let this work.
Those in the stadium seats rose to their feet to watch. The families of the murdered phoenixes moved back, arms around each other supportively. Even Rath eased away to give me my space. It was only the ashes and me. Oh, and Kyanite and RS.
Ky, I need you to play “Ashes” by Endway, I said in my head.
An obvious choice but I suppose it's a good one, Kyanite muttered.
You're just bitter that you didn't come up with it, RS accused him.
I've been doing this for a long time, Kyanite, I said gently. It amazes me that you can pick songs for me so quickly, but I need to come up with a few of my own or you'll make me feel inadequate.
In that case, I applaud your choice, my love.
Gee, thanks, I said dryly.
A haunting, humming groan of music swept the room like a flock of birds before a jarring pound grounded it. I called up my magic as I focused on the ashes, gaze shifting over all sixteen piles. When I began to sing, it was nearly a chant. An ancient droning. A sacred sound. The beat returned with marching alacrity right before my voice matched it; shooting up into a shouting command. A simple demand that directed my magic with precision. It shimmied through me and sailed into the dust of the fallen; a rush of power with one intention.
To make l
ife rise from death.
The gray shifted. The ash quaked. I trembled with magic that continued to flow through me and into those cinders. More and more power pouring out of that deep well within me. Calling them to life. Demanding that they be reborn. Take the energy I give you and use it to live again.
I lifted my hands along with my voice and the piles of ash rose with the movement; soft gray ribbons spinning into the vortexes I knew presaged rebirth. Hope came, tremulous but quickly gaining strength. Light began to pour from the ashy whirlwinds and, in the center of each twirling cone, a spark ignited. Fire blazed to life, and the phoenixes around me burst into ecstatic cheering. With my final command, the music cut off and the fire winked out; hidden within new flesh. Ash fell away, absorbed instantly into sixteen babies. The newborns laid on the cool glass, looking as if they hovered above the earth, as they laughed gleefully and fist-pumped the air in triumph.
