More than a Phoenix

by Ashlyn Chase

  After studying the map’s topography for a moment, Mallory picked out the bend in the river her father had shown her and tapped it. “There.”

  Kizzy waved her hand over the map, and her invisible circle turned red, surrounding the exact place Mallory had pointed to.

  Kizzy muttered, “Holy guacamole. That red area is the tightest we could narrow it down to. It’s still hundreds of miles wide. You may have just pinpointed their location. The guys we’re worried about are Northern Europeans somewhere in this area. I don’t know about any natives working with them. I kind of thought these guys were racist.”

  “The wizard who tried to lift the curse said he saw one native. Maybe it’s like how the Native Americans helped the Pilgrims survive in Plymouth. They needed them.”

  Mallory wondered if Kizzy was thinking the same thing she was—that their situations were linked…or related. If so, maybe she was cursed too! She didn’t know how to ask. Kizzy looked like she was thinking hard.

  The girls were silent for so long that Gabriella eventually stood up, clasped her hands, and said, “Well, I’d better get dinner ready.”

  Antonio rose. “And I have a thing…downstairs. I’ll be gone for a few minutes, or maybe several, depending on when dinner is done.”

  Gabriella chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll call you the minute we’re ready.”

  Antonio handed the container of shredded meat to Kizzy. “Would you like to give the boys the rest of their dinner?”

  “I’d be happy to.” Then Kizzy looked over and offered it to Mallory. “Unless you’d like to do the honors.”

  She smiled. “Yeah. Just show me how it’s done.” She rose and walked around the table, taking Antonio’s seat next to the cage.

  Chapter 14

  Once everyone had left them alone, Kizzy and Mallory took a few quiet minutes to feed the birds. At last, the shredded meat was gone, and Mallory set the container aside. Kizzy passed her a napkin to wipe her hands.

  “Can I trust you, Mallory?”

  “I won’t breathe a word, no matter what you tell me.”

  “Okay. I kind of mentioned this already, but there’s more to it. My whole family are supernatural witches. We’re born with powers humans will never achieve, no matter how long they study magic and witchcraft. There is a book we were given to guard with our lives. It’s one of three.

  “Recently, another one was discovered here in Boston. Now we have two of the three, and they’re hidden in different locations behind a ton of magical wards. The family’s nemesis I mentioned is a scary group calling themselves ‘the entity.’ We think they’re made up of the descendants of Nazi war criminals who were hiding in Brazil.

  “As you may or may not know, there was a belief in occultism among some of the elite SS. They honestly believed they could become gods if they could purify their race. They have the third book and are looking for the others. We think they want them because it would shorten the length of time they’d need to evolve their race into gods.

  “I don’t know if this has anything to do with your father or not, but I wouldn’t doubt it. This group is not made up of witches. They don’t hold the same values witches do. The Witches’ Rede is similar to the Hippocratic oath. It boils down to ‘Harm none.’ These guys don’t care who they harm, as long as they get the books.”

  “You say they believe in the occult. Does that mean they’re using occult spells or curses or whatever to find the other two books?”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “Up until now, I couldn’t think of who could or would ever want to put a curse on me. Dante was the one who thought of finding out if my symptoms might be from a curse or wayward spell, and then he asked that wizard he knew to lift it. He was able to remove part of the curse. I don’t see dead people anymore.”

  “That’s why you were seen talking to yourself? You were actually talking to spirits?”

  “Yes. And I haven’t seen any ghosts since the hex breaking. But there’s another thing that didn’t get lifted.”

  “You mean the part where you turn into a monkey?” Kizzy asked innocently.

  Mallory’s eyes widened. “You know about that?”

  “I know that the monkey at the basketball game was wearing your cute white pin-tucked blouse and carrying your JanSport crossbody bag.”

  “You thought my blouse was cute?”

  Kizzy burst out laughing. “That’s what you took away from that?”

  Mallory giggled. “I was trying to lighten the moment.”

  Kizzy smiled. “I’m glad we’re having this conversation. I really want us to get along.”

  “Me too. So what can I do to help your family protect the books from the entity?”

  “Nothing. We’ve done all we can. There are wards around both places and people to reinforce them if necessary. All you can do is keep this completely to yourself and help us find that exact location.”

  Mallory fidgeted in her seat until Kizzy noticed her discomfort.

  “What’s the matter? Are you afraid you might not be able to keep this secret?”

  “It’s not that. My parents are coming home. I don’t know what to tell them. I mean, about me. I would never mention anything about your family or the books you have—unless you wanted me to.”

  Kizzy breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. Can you imagine the implications if word gets out that these books lead to unlimited power?” Hell, I shouldn’t have told her anything. Then she corrected her inner language. Heck—I mean heck. “What have you told them already?”

  “Nothing at all. I was hoping I could get this all resolved before they came home. I’m an only child. They worry about me enough as it is. I had to reassure them a million times that I’d be all right on my own. I’m twenty-five years old, for heaven’s sake.”

  “I understand, but all parents worry. I’m not an only child, and I’m older than you are. My father is still overprotective. So what do you feel you should tell them? I mean since you could turn into a monkey right in front of their faces. It doesn’t seem like something you can control if you get nervous.”

  “You’re right. I can’t. I don’t know what to tell them.” Mallory dropped her head into her hands. “I’m screwed.”

  Kizzy wrapped her arm around her new friend’s back. “Would you like me to get rid of that particular problem for you?”

  Mallory’s gaze snapped to hers. “Can you? Even if you don’t know how I got this way?”

  “I think so. Sometimes, I have no idea why something is happening to a patient, but it doesn’t seem to matter. I just want to help them, and that seems to be enough.”

  “So, does that mean you want to help me?”

  Kizzy smiled. “If you want my help, I’d be happy to give it.”

  “Yes, please.”

  Kizzy closed her eyes and channeled her energy into Mallory.

  “So, can you do it?”

  “It’s already done.”

  Tears streamed down Mallory’s cheeks. “Thank you, thank you! I don’t know how I can ever repay you, but I’ll be forever in your debt.”

  Kizzy laughed. “Nobody repays me. There is no debt. This is my destiny.”

  Mallory gazed at her openmouthed. “That’s quite a destiny. I don’t know what mine is. Just to make the world more interesting, I guess.” Her cheeks pinked.

  Kizzy still had an arm around her and gave her a side hug. “That’s a valid destiny too.”

  Gabriella entered the room and smiled. “I’m glad you girls are getting along. Dinner will be ready soon. Which one of you would like to set the table?”

  Mallory looked at her hands. “I just had meat juice all over my fingers. I’ll have to wash up, and then I’d be glad to help.”

  “Same here,” Kizzy said.

  The birds chirped as if to say, “Thanks fo
r all the meat.”

  “Follow me, girls. I’ll show you where I keep the silverware and dishes right after you wash your hands.”

  * * *

  Mallory met her parents at the airport by the luggage carousel. She was genuinely happy to see them, and they each gave her a strong, warm hug. “I’m so glad to see you, honey,” her mother said. “We missed you.”

  “Same here. You too, Dad. Did you have a good flight?”

  Her father groaned. “It’s been a challenging few days, but I think the flight was the most relaxing part of it, even with the turbulence.” He laughed.

  “I’m surprised you’re in a good mood. I thought you’d be very upset about your project not panning out.”

  Mr. Summers sagged. “Well, I’ve been trying to be philosophical about it. It was a good idea, but maybe it wasn’t meant to be. I hit roadblocks everywhere—not literal ones, although the damn protesters did their best to keep the construction crew out. It was just too stressful.”

  “I was worried about his health.”

  Alarmed, Mallory asked, “Are you okay? Did you have chest pain or anything?”

  “No, but it might have been a matter of time. I had to throw in the towel and admit it was just not worth it. Sometimes, you have to let things go.”

  She hugged him. “I’m glad you’re able to take it philosophically.” She had never known him to be that way. Maybe he’d been changed by the experience, in which case all was not wasted. “You’re right, and sometimes things don’t work out, but it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to you.”

  Her mother smiled. “Is that coming from experience, dear?”

  “Maybe. I never would’ve believed it if it hadn’t happened to me. I really like my new job.”

  “You’ll have to tell us more about that later,” her father said. “I’m exhausted.”

  “Where’s your young man?” Her mother glanced around the airport.

  “Oh, Dante couldn’t be here. You’ll meet him…sometime.”

  Her father, Nigel, asked, “Is he working? Or did he just not want to meet your parents?” He laughed. “Not that I want to meet anyone right now either.”

  “No, he wanted to meet you, but something else took precedence. He…uh…he had to fly somewhere at the last minute. A family member died. He might be away for a while.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame,” her mother said. “We were looking forward to meeting him.”

  Before they could get any further into it, Mallory said, “So where are your bags? Let’s get you home. I know how cruddy I feel after a long flight.”

  Her father smiled. “I can’t wait for a nice hot shower.”

  Her mother leaned toward her, side-whispering, “And a glass of brandy wouldn’t hurt.”

  Mallory’s father didn’t have a drinking problem, but he had one to relax after a tough day, and those seemed to be fairly frequent. But this must’ve been the mother of all bad days. All the stress of the job must have been awful.

  They got the bags and wheeled, carried, or rolled them to the cab. Mallory wanted to get help, but her father insisted they didn’t need it.

  “Wow, you had a lot of stuff. I thought you didn’t.”

  Her father laughed. “You never know how much crap you have until you have to pack it all up and move it.”

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “So, it sounds as if you started your new job and it’s going well…” She was a master of changing the subject.

  “I’ve been learning a lot. It’s on-the-job training, so to speak. I can have a great idea, but it doesn’t always translate the way I see it in my head. Of course, that can happen with a painting too. I’m just more invested in getting things exactly right. I need a few days to get everything just the way I want it. There are differences between working on a canvas and working on a computer. It takes a while to get used to it.”

  When they reached the taxi stand, the driver popped the trunk open. As he loaded the trunk, Mallory wondered if they shouldn’t have asked for a van.

  “How much stuff did you bring home anyway?”

  Her mother laughed. “There were so many wonderful things there, and I just couldn’t leave them. I took a few of the smaller items and packed up some of the bigger ones to be shipped later.”

  Mallory stared at her. “You mean there’s more?”

  She giggled. “I bought a few things for your town house. How is it working out, by the way?”

  “It’s working out just fine,” her father snapped. “I don’t build junk.”

  “I never said you did, dear. I just wondered how Mallory was adjusting to living on her own in her own home.”

  So, her father’s good mood lasted about ten minutes. That was some kind of a record. It didn’t take long to find a hot button and push it. At least she wasn’t the one who had set him off this time.

  * * *

  Kizzy’s father was intrigued when she brought home the map with the red circle on it and told him about Mallory. She’d had her make a blue ink mark as close to the exact location of her father’s construction project as she could. It was almost dead center. If one moved the dot to the other side of the river, it would indeed be the exact midpoint.

  “So, how did you meet this girl?”

  “She’s Dante’s girlfriend. Dante is Noah’s brother.”

  “I see. So, where is Noah anyhow? I haven’t heard about him for a while. He didn’t forget you when they wiped his mind, correct?”

  She forced a laugh. “Of course not.” Kizzy didn’t know whether or not Nick or Brandee had explained what had happened to him. Apparently not. Her father could have discovered the house in South Boston was now a pile of kindling, but maybe he didn’t care enough to check. That made it easier. She really didn’t want to say a firefighter blew up his own home.

  She still wasn’t quite sure about the how. It happened so fast… She suspected it might have had something to do with his lab, but she didn’t know what he had already set up. Maybe a combination of chemicals that were dangerous when mixed were close at hand.

  “I saw him the other day. He’s fine. Just, you know…doing his thing.” Yeah, growing up all over again.

  “Ruthie said she hasn’t sensed any threats recently. I wonder if the entity gave up? That doesn’t seem like them.”

  Kizzy wished she could tell him Noah was the one responsible for eliminating the threat. But until and unless she had permission to share her knowledge of Noah’s paranormal side, she wouldn’t be able to tell her father about the reincarnation. So she just had to hope Noah returned to full-grown human before he found out that her boyfriend had blown himself to smithereens—in the ultimate heroic sacrifice.

  “It looks like I’ll be able to go back to work,” Kizzy said.

  “They’ll be happy to have you. I hear it’s been busy down there in the ER. People have asked me how you are.”

  “Yeah, I can’t wait to tell them I had hysterical blindness, but now I seem to be fine.” She rolled her eyes.

  “It could happen to anyone, Kizz.”

  “Sure. I just don’t think they’re going to believe it happened to me. And in a way, I hope they don’t. It’s a psychiatric problem.”

  “Well, they believed me. And since I already made excuses to HR for you, that’s the story we need to go with. They’ll keep the reason to themselves, and when you’re ready, they’ll clear you. As long as you behave professionally, nobody will think you don’t belong back at work. Your supervisor will know, of course, but you shouldn’t have to say anything to your coworkers except ‘Hey, it’s great to be back.’”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Kizzy wouldn’t blame them if they made her see a shrink before she went back. Hysterical blindness was pretty uncommon. The newer diagnosis, known as conversion disorder, was made when someone presented
with neurological symptoms like numbness, blindness, or paralysis not due to a well-established organic cause.

  She would never expect to experience it based on the reports of Freud and a few of his neurologist colleagues. They believed many women suffered from what they termed “hysteria.” Later on, it was discovered that many of these cases stemmed from sexual abuse, but the doctors covered for their wealthy patrons. The main thing Freud did right was to give the symptoms credibility and take it out of the “faking it” or malingering category.

  She figured whatever condition presented as hysteria, it had to cause significant distress, and eventually, it could be traced back to a psychological trigger. She certainly had one of those she could weave into her story. Likely seeing someone hit by a train could remind her of witnessing her mother’s and grandmother’s sudden deaths. But had anyone been hit by a train recently? It didn’t matter. She could have seen it in a movie or on TV or something.

  Just to be sure she had her story straight, she grabbed the nearest psychiatric diagnostic manual off the shelf of their library. She was glad she did. Apparently, they’d kept the main category of conversion disorder but had also given her little excuse a subtitle called functional neurological symptom disorder. The new criteria covered the same range of symptoms but removed the requirement of a psychological stressor. Well, okay. That doesn’t sound quite so bad.

  She could do this.

  Returning to the hospital meant everything to her. She wanted to help the people she had helped before. Not only those at death’s door due to horrendous accidents or heart attacks, but even the usual sniffles and scrapes. Even though it had only been a few days, she missed it terribly.

  “Well, Kizz, we both need to get to work,” Aaron said. “But I want to talk about this map more later.”

  That was just perfect for her, because she needed to talk to Mallory and get their stories straight first. She wanted no mention of houses blowing up, boyfriends growing up, or monkeys showing up. Mallory would understand that last one, for sure.