Fire Danger

by Claire Davon

  She cocked her head at him. “I’ll add it to the pile. What about you, Phoenix? I’m decently well versed in mythology, although I guess not enough. I know the phoenix stories. The fire, resurrection, phoenix tears… How much of it is true? Any of it? Or is Phoenix just a name?”

  He picked up the mouse and set it back down. After a moment, he spoke. “It’s a name and a power. I have fire as mine, and control over it. Of course there is a price to pay. The phoenix legends are mostly nonsense. I have never healed anyone with tears, but sometimes I get sent to the pyre to burn. Usually it’s after a failure, after we have lost our battles, one or all. Sometimes it just…happens. I never know. The Phoenix wakes up from the ashes, unless we choose not to…but not always. Going to the fire is a risk.”

  “Oh, Phoenix,” she said, tentatively touching his shoulders. He put his hands over hers and slid her arms around his body. She belonged there. It was good, it was right, like fire that burned but did not consume. “How often?”

  “Not very. I assumed the mantle of the Phoenix when the last one failed to come out of the fire. That was toward the end of the Saxon reign. I did not account for time in those days, but I’m told it was around the year nine-fifty.”

  “That’s why Griffin calls you Aleric.”

  “My mortal name was Aleric. Call me that.” Then he smiled. “Griff is a youngster. He was born in the fifteen hundreds, so he’s a little over five hundred years old. His family can be traced back to Charlemagne, but he’s from Verona. Italians think they invented culture.”

  She leaned her head against the broad expanse of his back, and his hard muscles flexed under her cheek. “You’re a thousand years old?”

  “More. I was twenty-five when I assumed the office of Phoenix.”

  “Oh, sorry,” she said. “A thousand and twenty-five, then.”

  “A thousand and ninety,” he corrected. “Give or take a few months.”

  Rachel’s mind stuttered to a halt. A thousand and… “An older man,” she said, hoping she was shielding enough that her thoughts didn’t show. She wanted to press a kiss against his spinal column and lick the salty skin. She was surprised when a deep shudder ran through Phoenix, making him ripple.

  “I would like that too.”

  “Ah, Rachel,” he said with a tone that was sad and aroused at the same time. “It would have been better if you hadn’t gone into a fugue that night.”

  “Better for who?” she asked.

  “You.” In a swift motion, he pivoted and pulled her into his arms. “It would be safer for you. Not for me. I am pleased that we met. More than pleased. You entice me.” He settled her on his lap and let her know with a gentle thrust of his hips what he meant.

  “I see,” she said with a mischievous grin. Winding her arms around his neck, she straddled him, letting his arousal settle in the cleft between her legs. Rachel was usually shy around men, but this one had made his arousal plain and it aroused her in return. Any thoughts about his age or the strangeness of their situation fled when his hardness pressed against her.

  His intake of breath brought their faces close together, and Rachel could once again see that fascinating combination of colors in the flecks of his irises.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and then, as if talking were no longer possible, he caught her lips with his, his hand holding the back of her head as his mouth took hers.

  “I’m not,” she protested.

  “Don’t argue with an Elemental,” he said and deepened the kiss, fitting his lips to hers and plunging his tongue into her mouth.

  Rachel drew back after a few heated moments and went to the large plate-glass door.

  The sun, yellow and round, streamed through the window. Rachel drew a breath. So many things warred inside her mind. She opened the door to rid herself of that pent-up feeling. Then she looked down, directly into glowing black eyes on the street below.

  The human—or whatever—was staring up. It was tall, but from her distance Rachel couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Whatever it was, it appeared to be staring fixedly at the house. When he-it-she caught sight of Rachel, it tipped its head farther back and opened its mouth. Fire streamed from its mouth and nostrils, surrounding its head but not burning it. Its hair was a strange mixture of blonde on one side and red on the other.

  Rachel made an involuntary yelp and heard Phoenix’s cry of alarm at her mental picture as she projected without realizing she was doing so.

  The being studied her for a long moment and with one strangely knuckled finger, beckoned to her. It gestured with its body, craning its neck and tilting its head away from the house. It motioned again, this time with its whole hand.

  “Rachel!”

  She heard Phoenix behind her, and the humanoid winked and took to the air. It had no wings, but it flew. One minute it was there, the next it was high above her, and then it was gone.

  “Oh God, Aleric,” she said as he reached her, putting his arms around her and drawing her back from the door. His intake of breath told her more than she wanted to know.

  “Haures. Of course. It’s about time.”

  Rachel threw the lock and stepped back from the large glass door. It didn’t look nearly secure enough to hold back whatever that was.

  Belatedly Rachel tasted blood on the inside of her mouth. She’d bitten her cheek. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might explode from her chest, and her skin was clammy to the touch.

  Then she straightened. She might be out of her depth, but she was nobody’s victim. She was no simpering coward to freak at the sight of someone, even if that thing did have black eyes, breathed fire and flew without wings.

  She hadn’t had a chance to do much digging into what she supposedly was, but the little she’d learned about Ifrits wasn’t much help. They were fire beings, like Djinns or genies. It seemed they’d be more likely to be on the side of the Demonos than the Elementals. She wanted to know more about who she was, but there was frustratingly little online.

  * * * * *

  The sun splashed in over the door, and it caught Rachel in a beam of light, glinting off the blonde of her hair and spiking her lashes with rays. For an instant all Phoenix could do was stand there and stare at the vision she created. He wanted to pull her into his arms and carry her to the highest mountain, where she would be safe. He wanted to trace every curve of her body with his hands until she quivered with need for him. When he took her, it would be the joining of the century, soaring together as only those who are meant to be together could soar. Fire calls to fire. Was he ready to pay the consequences a second time?

  “Be right back.” He opened the door again and went through it. With a practiced move, he jumped off the balcony, down to the spot where the being had been a minute ago.

  There was a faint black residue of fire on the ground. The Demonos had left its paranormal mark on the Earth in a line of black, char seeping into the cracked pavement of the hillside street.

  Phoenix sniffed the air, searching for where Haures had gone. He saw her as a speck, far above them. Phoenix wondered what the purpose of the brief visit had been. Fear? Intimidation?

  Taking Rachel’s mettle? The Demonos and Elementals knew each other well, locked as they had been for eons in this battle of good and evil. Rachel was an X-factor. There was only one reason Haures was trying to intimidate Rachel, and that was because she meant something to Challenge. He didn’t know what it was, but clearly she did. The wolves and shadow people seemed scared of Rachel. What did Rachel’s fire do to the balance of Challenge?

  The residue was already fading. He could follow it, but it didn’t seem worth it at this stage of the game. To do so would leave Rachel defenseless. She might be part Ifrit, but she was still learning. Her fire was an uncertain thing, unpredictable and therefore useless in this battle.

  Phoenix began walking back up t
o the house, cutting through the scrub of the property as he did so. Rachel’s fear beat at him, but he noted she brought it under control, muting it to a part of her brain where she could be afraid but still function.

  The woman had a lot of strength, whether she knew it or not. He had to find out exactly who she was and what had happened to cause her to be alone and unaware of her Ifrit side. The presence of the Demonos, her interest in Rachel, made this part-Ifrit more interesting than normal half-breeds.

  His cock grew semi-hard picturing the lush curves of the female waiting as he approached. His breath shortened at the thought of her naked form under his. It was so easy to picture: full breasts, small waist flaring into the curve of her hips, hips that shielded the hopefully untrimmed juncture of her.

  An image of the two of them entwined, him thrusting into her, shot through him. It hadn’t come from his mind. He never saw himself that way, from a stranger’s point of view, even if he was looking at himself in the mirror.

  Good. The attraction went both ways. Good, and bad. It was a complication he didn’t need, but now that it was here it was as if it had always been inevitable.

  He reached the bottom of the balcony and with a small push, leaped onto its second-floor height.

  She was waiting, her hand on the balcony door and a question in her eyes.

  “Haures,” he said with no further explanation. She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “Later, Rachel.” He reached for her. She let him pull her into his arms without resisting, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

  His nostrils widened and he sniffed her face and then moved lower, to the glands in her neck. He didn’t stop there. He shifted, gently nudging her arms away from her body so he could smell her armpit.

  His face brushed across her peaked nipples, and with a sudden movement, Phoenix took one cloth-covered nipple in his mouth, suckling through the cotton.

  Then he smelled her other armpit and straightened. “You smell like fear, but fear that’s under control.”

  “I refuse to be afraid anymore. Well…” she said in a self-deprecating tone, “at least I refuse to let it rule me. When that thing was bathed in fire, I was scared witless. But then I remember that I can do that too. That’s cool. They want me to be afraid, and I won’t give in to it.”

  He could still taste the threads of the cloth in his mouth, but mostly he tasted the hard nipple under the cloth. Rachel had nothing under the top, and the thought of pushing it aside, baring her breasts, finished the job her faint thoughts had started. Phoenix hardened in a fierce rush.

  He tried to focus on what she was saying. She wouldn’t let fear rule her. That was good. Right now he wanted something other than fear.

  “I’m glad.” He gripped her shoulders, meeting her eyes. “We all need courage, but you most of all. You’ve only been in this game for a few days. You need to be a queen, not a pawn, and for that you need courage.”

  She swallowed. “Okay, Aleric. If I’m going to show the world what I’m made of, I can’t cower here. Why not make a day of it and go to Fisherman’s Wharf? I could use a good tourist attraction.”

  Phoenix had thought she would stay holed up here, in his house. The fact that she didn’t want to hide touched the warrior in him and made him want to claim her that much more.

  “Perhaps we can flush out some game at the same time. I’ll drive.”

  * * * * *

  Fisherman’s Wharf, one of San Francisco’s largest tourist attractions, was part of the shoreline along the San Francisco Bay. Boats and barges were visible on the water, occasionally sounding their horns: some near, and some dirge-like booms further out. Even through the throng and press of constant humanity, the people assigned to show the tourists a good time on the tourist boats could be heard calling out the attractions as they went by on the choppy water. All around them people moved, ebbing past them.

  Rachel almost staggered under the sudden onslaught of voices in her head. The rush filled her mind, beating on the inside of her skull like small hammers.

  “Get out of my damned way.”

  “Fucking tourists.”

  “Hey, look! Ghirardelli Square! Chocolate!”

  Rachel’s head swam. He gestured to her head as if to tell her to shield. She started one of her nursery rhymes and was relieved when the press of human thoughts faded. This was all so new to her, and she was still getting used to the idea that she could read minds.

  They parked in a metered spot and walked down to Pier 39, located between the Embarcadero and Powell Street, Rachel’s favorite tourist attraction. Phoenix walked slightly behind her, keeping an eye on the people around her. In this form he didn’t look like an Elemental, only a very tall, very broad-shouldered man. The blue shirt he wore was clearly tailored for him and was probably more expensive than her monthly salary. She saw him as the powerful Elemental, ready to leap into the air at the slightest menace, and also as humans saw him: a tall man with an aura of power. It was an odd sensation to see and yet not see at the same time.

  Down on the water, playing among the pier, jetty boards and logs, were sea lions of all shapes and sizes, basking in the sun or just rolling around in the surf. There was a sea lion center, relatively new to the area, but she avoided it. She preferred to see the sea lions without knowing tons of facts and details.

  “Elemental.”

  It was not Phoenix’s voice. Three of the seals looked at them curiously. There was an overlay, a human shadow that stretched beyond their sea lion form and onto the other animals.

  Rachel glanced at Phoenix and back to the sea lions.

  “Shapeshifters. This is Ondine’s domain.”

  The sea lions gave them another glance, and then, as one, the three that were more than sea creatures turned and dove into the bay.

  Rachel filed the sighting away for future use.

  Beyond them was the island of Alcatraz, its small hill seeming innocent. Phoenix pointed out the tourist attraction and smiled.

  “Want to go?” he asked, cupping her elbow with his hand and leaning into her.

  “Can’t.” She looked up at the board hanging above the ticket counter. To the right was the bridge leading to the boats that took tourists to the isolated former prison. “Sold out.”

  She’d been on the tour once. The island wasn’t anything special once you landed. She learned it was the currents and the cold water that made it so hard to escape. Many had tried; almost all had failed. The lighthouse, part of the original use of the island, still operated, but otherwise it was inhabited by birds and tourists.

  “Let’s get something to eat,” she said, knowing she sounded relieved that the tour was off the table. “I don’t know about you, but I could eat an elephant.”

  His face pulled down as if in dismay, but humor danced in his eyes. “They’re tough and sinewy. They are not worth the trouble, even for the meat they provide. How about some eggs and ham?”

  She considered, and her stomach rumbled as if in response. “I’m going to be a thousand pounds, knowing you.”

  Phoenix put his arm around her. They fit together like two halves of a whole, or the interlocking pieces of a puzzle. There was something primal, and very male, in him. The idea of belonging to someone touched her somewhere that had been cold for years. She wanted to bathe in his fire and bathe him in return.

  “Don’t worry.” The mirth in his eyes had been replaced by something dark and sexy. “There are ways to work off the extra pounds.”

  * * * * *

  It was an odd assignment, Ron thought, even knowing he wasn’t paid to think. He had no idea why the creature would want this couple followed or reported on. It wasn’t what he had been hired to do. He had gotten a call a few hours ago, the command to track and report on a pair. He had been given a slightly grainy photograph and the news that they were currently at Fisherman’s Wharf. One look at the
photo and he had committed it to memory.

  He wasn’t sure why the photograph would be grainy. It appeared to be from a surveillance camera. That struck him as strange. It would have been easy enough to slide a digital camera under a coat and take a picture, so why bother with anything else?

  I’m not paid to think, he reminded himself.

  Turning his attention back to the pair, he frowned. They seemed like a typical couple, touching each other frequently, looking at each other far too much and acting for all the world like nobody else existed.

  It made him sick. He wanted to rip them into little pieces and toss them into the water.

  He took several deep, calming breaths, reminding himself that he was just there to do a job, nothing more. It didn’t matter if he was there to kill one politician, one lover or a whole group of people. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t know why he cared, but the sight of the two of them together made him want to kill someone or something. No, someone. Them.

  He continued to follow at a safe distance, fingering the necklace in his pocket the creature had given him as he did so. He’d been told he had to wear it at all times, even when sleeping. He’d nodded and done as asked, reluctant to ask why. He hadn’t put it on yet. His employer had made it clear by his body language that there should be no other questions. He didn’t know why. Just a quirk of these people. Those dealing on the other side of the law never liked curiosity. He wasn’t normally curious. There was no reason he should care. He’d been asked to do much stranger things in the past.

  It mattered. He didn’t know why, but it did. He watched them go into a wharfside café restaurant, joining the queue for a table.

  The over-tall man and woman were easy to follow, even at a distance. His fists curled as he followed them. He wanted to tear at them, rip them apart.

  He stopped and took a deep breath, struggling to bring his rolling emotions under control. He was furious, needing, wanting to hurt something. Badly.