Phoenix Contract: Part Five (Fallen Angel Watchers)

by Melissa Thomas

  “I’ve come to regret my actions, but probably not for reasons you’ll appreciate,” he said.

  “Try me,” Aiden suggested, confident that she’d be both surprised and disappointed.

  “The Phoenix has been my adversary for a long, long time,” Magnus said. “Not you, not Gregory, not even Channah, but The Phoenix itself. A thousand years ago when Channah chose Gregory, a scale was tipped out of balance. Gregory was stupid, arrogant, self-absorbed—”

  “A poor opponent,” Aiden said softly.

  “Yes, and all too easily destroyed,” Magnus agreed. “But for all of his short-comings and failings, Gregory was better than no Phoenix at all. Following his death, it didn’t take long for me to realize my mistake.”

  “So that’s why you’ve changed sides?” Aiden asked, incredulous. “In order to restore the Phoenix? Your sworn enemy?”

  “The last five hundred years have been boring,” Magnus said. “You have no idea how tedious immortality becomes without challenges.”

  “What’s wrong with Guillaume?” Aiden asked. Her question earned a sarcastic snort.

  “You’ve seen Guillaume. Do you really need to ask?” Magnus asked wryly. “Pretending to serve him for the last five hundred years has been excruciating.”

  “So you think I’ll make a better opponent?”

  “You’re smart, resourceful, and insightful,” Magnus agreed, perfectly willing to review her qualifications to become his new arch-nemesis. “A tad naïve, but you’ll outgrow it.”

  “So, that’s it,” she said, and silence fell between them. “You’re willing to help me become the Phoenix in order to restore some ancient balance, so we can go back to being sworn enemies when this is all over.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re unbelievable,” she drawled.

  “Is my reason not good enough?” Magnus asked. The Celt’s black cloak rippled as he moved a pace closer. “I could make up a touching lie, a sorrowful, soulful sob story about guilt and realization and the rough road to redemption.”

  “No,” Aiden replied flatly. “I prefer you like this. I know what to expect, and I won’t be disappointed.”

  She stepped right up to him and reached up, grabbing the edge of his hood. With a yank, Aiden dragged it aside and exposed his hideous disfigurement. Bright golden eyes burned fiercely within his ruined face.

  “No more masks.” She took his hand in her own. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The trip lasted less than ten minutes, and this time Aiden failed to enjoy the brief flight. She paid no attention to the scenery or Magnus’ great black wings. Anticipation of the coming confrontation left her rigid with tension.

  Stress took a vigorous toll on her body. The strain of the cumulative events leading up to this moment had left her close to collapse. She ran on pure adrenaline and resolve, and she feared that sooner or later she’d suffer a breakdown from exhaustion. That promise of an end in sight kept her going.

  Magnus set them down on top of one of the city’s countless skyscrapers. The residential building’s roof had been landscaped as a golf green. Atop Astroturf and amongst artificial trees, a circle of stone blocks had been erected. Aiden recognized the arrangement as a recreation of the monolith in Scotland.

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” she exclaimed.

  “You were expecting a hill in Scotland?” Magnus asked. “Or perhaps Mount Armon?”

  Two men emerged from the monolith to greet them. Aiden recognized Guillaume from the vision. The second had brown hair and brown eyes, of average weight and height, and was so unremarkable that his presence barely registered next to Guillaume’s extraordinary beauty. Both wore modern clothing, casual business attire that would’ve been considered fashionable anywhere in the city. They made Magnus look like a relic from the Dark Ages.

  Aiden assumed the second man was the same nameless henchman who’d accompanied Guillaume in Scotland. Of course, it might not have been him, because she hadn’t gotten a look at the henchman’s face. However, there was a natural symmetry to the trio that made Aiden think they’d been together for a very long time.

  “We change with the times, or we wind up dusty relics secluded in ancient mansions,” Guillaume said, his arms spread in a theatrical gesture. “This modern world is one of steel and glass. I can think of no place more apropos.”

  “Actually, I meant the golf course,” Aiden retorted. She moved away from the Frenchman, falling three paces behind Magnus. “Astroturf? How tacky is that?”

  “Ah,” Guillaume sounded nonplussed. “Unfortunately, vegetation wilts in my presence.”

  “Ah,” Aiden intoned. “Charming.”

  The Frenchman directed his attention to Magnus, and Guillaume’s face contorted with distaste. “Magnus, what in Shemyaza’s name happened to you? Your face is hideous! You should go back to hiding behind that hood.”

  “Long story,” Magnus replied. “I brought the girl.”

  Guillaume’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, and he directed a searching look in Aiden’s direction. “So I see, and she’s not exactly kicking and screaming. You have such a winning way with women, Magnus. You really must tell me your secret.”

  “Yeah, he’s a real lady-killer,” Aiden snapped, earning sharp glances from both Magnus and Guillaume. The former scowled, the later smirked.

  “What did you want from me?” Aiden demanded, addressing the Frenchman.

  “When one wishes to steal the throne, it’s always wise to have the crown princess hostage,” Guillaume said.

  “Actually, I’m here to stop you.” Aiden glared at Guillaume with a look that could kill. If only he’d oblige and drop. “This crown princess is nobody’s hostage.”

  “Oh?” Guillaume sounded immensely amused. “You and what army, girl?”

  The Frenchman had a point, but Aiden refused to back down and appear any more foolish than she already felt. Besides, she had a trump card.

  “Him,” she said, indicating Magnus.

  “You charged me with the task of bringing you the girl and the sword. As you can see, I have brought both.” With one smooth motion Magnus unsheathed Acerbitas, drawing the sword from a baldric worn beneath his cloak.

  Aiden shuddered as the sword’s power spilled forth, a cloud of corruption sugar-coated with the sweet siren song of black magic. She had no idea how Magnus withstood the sword’s persuasion, so easily, so effortlessly.

  Guillaume’s brow rose, and a quizzical smile played on his lips when Magnus leveled the point of the sword at the Frenchman’s chest. “You’re betraying me,” he said as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Correction. I never served so there can be no betrayal. I used you in order to further my own ambitions,” Magnus replied.

  The two men locked gazes for a cutting moment that balanced on a razor blade, and then both erupted to violence. Quicksilver fast, Magnus thrust Acerbitas at Guillaume, and the Frenchman flew backward, smoothly evading the sword aimed at his heart.

  Guillaume zipped away, literally gliding over the Astroturf terrain, and stopped retreating only upon coming up against one of the huge stone blocks which made up the monolith. Running instead of flying, Magnus followed his opponent’s retreat.

  “Escutcheon!” Guillaume shouted, throwing his hands up in a defensive gesture as Magnus bore down on top of the Frenchman.

  Acerbitas cut another sweeping blow and connected with an invisible shield which sent a shower of sparks and lances of magical energy arcing through the air.

  “You’ll have to do better than that!” Guillaume cried. “Try using magic, Magnus. You knew enough to light a candle, last I checked!”

  “Vescere bracis meis.” Guarding with Acerbitas, Magnus retreated a pace and held his left arm aloft. A swirling blue globe of radiant light appeared in his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent it crashing into Guillaume’s shield.

  Aiden ducked as a random ball of magical energy shot toward her. She had no idea which of the two comb
atants had cast it, but it really irked her to discover Magnus’ latent skills as a sorcerer.

  Equally annoying was the fact that Magnus and Guillaume were so absorbed in their battle that they seemed to have discounted and forgotten her. What had happened to Guillaume’s henchman? Circling the duelists, Aiden gave them a wide berth and scanned her surroundings, searching for the nondescript man who’d been in Guillaume’s company. Presumably, Shemyaza’s Heart would be within the circle.

  A blinding flash of something accompanied a thunderous boom, both derived from the direction of the battling sorcerers. Aiden resisted the urge to look. Instead, she dashed the final few yards to the monolith and took cover behind one of the several ton stones.

  As she’d expected, a pentagram occupied the interior of the stone circle, and a pile of kindling had been placed at the center. A large wooden box perched atop a pedestal nearby. It bled conspicuously from slots cut into the sides, and a pool of dark red blood had formed around it. Aiden experienced a funny sensation in her gut at being so close to a fallen angel’s heart.

  Hello, Heart of Shemyaza...

  The battle between Magnus and Guillaume raged like a storm. Power rode the air, making Aiden’s skin itch, and it was so diffuse that she could no longer distinguish Magnus’ distinctive texture from the deluge. Taking a chance, she peered out from behind her shelter in time to see Magnus cut Guillaume’s arm with Acerbitas.

  She spotted Guillaume’s henchman sneaking around behind Magnus, and immediately recognized the trap the pair were setting. A snake-shaped coil of energy sprang from Guillaume’s hands, binding Magnus’ arms.

  A soft gasp escaped Aiden’s lips, and she did the only thing she could think of—she grabbed for her gun. The .45 felt heavy but familiar as she cocked the hammer and jabbed the safety.

  The barrel swung toward the henchman’s back, and Aiden fired without taking the time to aim. The first gunshot was a deafening explosion, but Aiden didn’t hear the rest. Her initial attempt missed, but the second and third shots found their mark and struck the henchman dead center in the back.

  The henchman’s entire body jerked, but he remained standing and absorbed each bullet with convulsive jolts. Aiden recalled witnessing the exact same thing happening when Tristan had shot Magnus, so she altered her aim toward the henchman’s head. A small smile touched her lips as the bullets found their mark and blew out her target’s skull. His body burst into a fiery conflagration.

  Simultaneously, Magnus spun and swung Acerbitas. He sliced through the fiery halo of the henchman’s burning body, and red-hot cinders danced on the air.

  “I HAD HIM!” Aiden shouted, disgruntled with the Celt for exposing his back to the bigger threat.

  Sure enough…

  “Extermino!” Guillaume shouted and gestured emphatically, throwing his hands heavenward. A rain of fire fell from the sky and formed a solid wall that consumed everything in its path. Black smoke rose in a thick cloud as Astroturf melted and then incinerated.

  Magnus sprinted toward the circle of stones for cover, or so Aiden thought until he seized her and thrust her bodily toward the wall of fire.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, wild with fear as the inferno blazed closer. She struggled desperately against being used as a human shield.

  “Fire is your element!” Magnus shouted. “Command it!”

  “Are you crazy? I’ve cast one spell!”

  The inferno descended, hungry flames licking at their flesh, and whatever reply Magnus might have made became lost in the roar. The blaze engulfed her, and Aiden threw out her hands, making a wild grab for control of the fire. Heat... Light... Burning...

  Shivering ecstasy seized Aiden, and she turned toward the flames with arms extended, welcoming them like a long lost lover. She and the fire shared a basic bond, and Aiden succumbed to the allure of mystical fire, basking in the rightness of her connection to the fundamental element. It was glory. It was communion. It was like being God.

  Extending her awareness, Aiden wrapped her will around the fire, taming it, commanding it, folding the flames around her. The firestorm reduced in size, and Magnus released his hold on her back.

  She briefly wondered if his hands had been incinerated, but the intoxicating rush threatened to sweep her away. The bond grew closer and tighter, and Aiden poured her own energy into the firestorm, feeding the flames. They flared higher, burned more fiercely, and threatened to consume the entire skyscraper, the entire city, maybe even the whole world. Aiden was enthralled.

  “No, focus,” Aiden whispered. She denied the fire’s spell, recalling her priorities: defeating Guillaume and claiming her inheritance. She could stand around in a BBQ pit communing with the flames anytime.

  “Back, back, obey my command,” Aiden chanted, reciting the litany that had become her own personal mantra. In response, the fire dimmed, growing lower and less fierce, slowly dying.

  The last of Guillaume’s firestorm went out, leaving Aiden standing upon a smoldering carpet of plastic lawn. Guillaume stood halfway across the building upon the line marking where charcoal ended and green began. Blue eyes glazed with shock, the blond wore an expression of pure surprise.

  “Mon dieu,” Guillaume whispered.

  “I told you that you had underestimated her,” Magnus announced, his wonderful brogue saturated with smugness. The Celt’s voice came from behind Aiden, and she nearly collapsed from the weakness of relief which was far greater than she wanted to acknowledge.

  Without warning, Magnus took advantage of the brief lull in everyone’s senses and exploded into action. Aiden caught a brief glimpse of the Celt through her peripheral vision as he charged forward, lightening swift. He held Acerbitas in a position for throwing instead of thrusting. The Celt’s hands and forearms were scorched black, red meat and white bone exposed. Aiden’s gut churned with nausea.

  Magnus lunged and threw the slender spatha straight toward Guillaume. The mystic sword rotated on its axis, creating the distinctive whir-whir of a spinning blade. Time slowed to a surreal crawl, and every rune etched upon the blade’s surface could be clearly distinguished as it shimmered with the manifestation of Acerbitas’ magic.

  Magnus’ aim was as true as his word. Acerbitas lodged deep in Guillaume’s torso and ran straight through his heart. Grasping at the sword impaling him, Guillaume staggered backward toward the edge of the rooftop.

  A woman’s powerful voice filled their minds: “I am Acerbitas, embodiment of a mother’s bitterness and a mother’s grief for a beloved daughter, forged from the blood and tears of the Dark Mother. I am the implement of destruction of this wretched, murdering abomination.” Crimson light flashed, consuming Guillaume entirely so that he simply vanished, leaving behind not even a speck of bone or blood, not even ash. Acerbitas dropped to the Astroturf, making no sound but a sweet sigh.

  “At last, I am finished,” Acerbitas whispered. “Those who murdered my lady’s daughter are dead. I may rest.” Then the sword fell silent. Her radiant aura dimmed and then went dead.

  “What happened?” Aiden asked.

  “She had to kill not only the monster who’d murdered Lilith’s daughter, but the monster’s master as well,” Magnus explained.

  He looked down, curiously contemplating his charred, skeletal hands. “I really should stop playing with fire,” he said. Then he smiled, and his ruined features formed a hideous grinning mask. “But I can’t seem to help myself.”

  “Don’t joke about this,” Aiden said, sickened with guilt and pity for him.

  “Don’t,” Magnus said, forbidding with a look. Don’t pity me, don’t feel sorry for me. “Don’t. Let’s get down to business.” He walked past Aiden, heading toward the center of the monolith.

  After a momentary hesitation, Aiden rushed to follow.

  Epilogue

  Shemyaza’s Heart resided within a box made of an unknown wood; the natural shade had long ago been replaced, stained dark red, almost black, the color of dried blood. The stone
pedestal also shone with a glossy burgundy patina.

  Trembling from head to toe, Aiden lifted the lid and stared down at the organ in horrified fascination. Nausea churned her gut. Her gore rose, pushing bile into the back of her throat. Yet for all her horrified disgust, she couldn’t bring herself to avert her gaze.

  The Heart was larger than a normal human organ and the color fresh meat, and with each surging beat, the entire mass quivered like fleshy Jell-O. Blood spurted forth from the severed pulmonary and aortic arteries with each contraction, an eternal and endless fountain.

  “He kept it in a box for five hundred years,” Aiden said, her mouth twisting in disgust.

  “There wasn’t much else he could do with it,” Magnus said. “But no, he didn’t leave it in there the whole time. He liked to take it out at parties and show it off.”

  Aiden’s eyes flew to Magnus. She tried to discern whether he was kidding or not, but the Celt’s ruined features made reading his expression an impossible task. However, she had a sickened certainty that he was absolutely serious.

  “What am I supposed to do with it again?” Aiden asked, even though she damn well knew.

  “Eat it,” Magnus obliged.

  “Easy for you to say,” Aiden muttered, tentatively reaching into the box and hooking her fingers beneath the edges of the Heart. Remarkably, it was hot to the touch. Not just warm, but steamy.

  Her expression twisted with an indefinable mix of emotion, Aiden lifted the Heart from its crucible. The throbbing organ was harder to hold onto than she’d imagined. Thrusting and surging in her grasp, soft flesh squished between her fingers as the determined Heart fought to gain freedom from any and all restraints. Within seconds of picking it up, her hands, arms, and shirt front were soaked with blood.

  Aiden cast one final glance at Magnus and took in the Celt’s impervious demeanor. He stood with his arms crossed. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he wore an aura of expectation.

  With a sigh, Aiden returned her attention to The Heart. Well, there was no getting out of it. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered.