Standing up, Kristian released his grip on Cable’s lifeless body, it slumped to the floor. Staring at it, a weird sensation ran through Kristian’s body. What was it he wondered to himself? Without time to think about it further he sensed Canola was rising to his feet.
Looking over towards Canola, Kristian could see the dent in the wall made when he had flung him across the room and Canola had smashed into it. Suddenly the two men launched themselves towards one another, Canola diving at Kristian head first, his arms outstretched before him. Kristian soared through the air, his body appearing weightless. The two men collided and tumbled to the floor. Canola tried frantically to get a firm grip on Kristian’s chest. Pinning Canola’s arms to his chest with his own, Kristian was on top of him and with one deft cartwheel-like motion flipped himself off and back onto his feet.
Quickly jumping to his feet Canola launched into a fast-paced attack, punching and kicking with an athletic style of martial arts. He attempted to break through Kristian’s defence so he could get a hold of him to be able to siphon the energy out of him. Kristian effortlessly seemed to block every attack, every kick and every punch. He was faster and much stronger than Canola and as long as he didn’t drop his guard he would survive.
Canola threw a wild punch that was way off target; he lost his balance and frenziedly scrambled to maintain his footing, but fell and landed awkwardly. Seizing the moment without hesitation Kristian launched an aggressive attack. Kicking his leg up, his foot impacted on Canola’s chest; a second kick smashed into his face. Canola’s arms swung apart from the collision. Kristian took a step forward and threw his fist towards Canola’s head and landed a screeching blow to his face. With a graceful quick spin-kick, he launched Canola backwards to collide with the wall yet again. He landed with such force, bits of grey brickwork were broken off. He bounced off the wall, his body slumped to the floor in one big heap. He looked up at Kristian, his eyes fearful and slightly envious.
Kristian walked towards and then knelt down in front of Canola. “So, when exactly am I going to ‘beg’ you to kill me?”
Canola quickly stretched out his hand, but a large swirling green shield had instantly appeared in front of Kristian’s chest protecting him and forcing Canola’s hand away. As he lowered the shield, Kristian felt impressed with himself, how well he had controlled his thoughts; all the training and all the practice sessions had come together at last and made it all seem worthwhile. Canola looked drained; sweat dripped from his face, his arms flaccid at his sides.
“You going to kill me now?,” asked Canola. Kristian blinked and dropped his eyes.
“Ah, I knew you wouldn’t have it in you,” Canola teased.
Kristian glared at Canola’s face and could feel nothing but contempt for him. Looking over his shoulder quickly Kristian was pleased to see that the room was much like the one in which he had been imprisoned. Rusty metal shelf fittings adorned the walls; with one quick movement he gripped tightly onto Canola’s clothes, cleanly lifted him into the air and launched him against the opposing wall.
Canola’s back struck the wall with a slap. He could see Kristian in front of him, his gaze locked onto him. A few seconds passed before Canola weakly began to wonder why he had not fallen to the floor. A strange sensation became evident: his legs felt warm as if a viscous water was trickling down them. Tilting his head downward he could see a large jagged iron rod protruding from his chest. His clothes were completely soaked in blood. Pain suddenly engulfed him. He began to cough blood, he was unable to speak; he was choking on his own blood! His eyes still followed Kristian’s movements.
Walking towards the table Kristian found the urn that Canola had taunted him with earlier. With his thoughts returning to the original mission he realised that this was something significant, he knew he had to get it back to the Order. Maybe the urn that he now held in his hands may not explain how his friend had died but the secret for which he had died. Kristian could feel an energy from it.
Grabbing a wedge of cash from the pile on the table, Kristian placed it in his pocket.
“Do you mind?” Kristian asked turning towards Canola whose pale face remained impassive. “I guess not,” he answered himself.
He looked around: three dead bodies. No sense of remorse or regret invaded his mind, instead he felt relieved and an odd sensation of pleasure. It was strange, he had never thought of death as something a person could get pleasure from; he’d thought only of the pain of it. But a part of him had enjoyed the battle, a part of him enjoyed the killing. He began to bury the emotions with the rest he did not understand or was frightened of. He could think of only one thing now: home.
…
- Chapter Twelve -
Homeward Bound
The summer in London had been a beautifully pleasant one, it was far hotter than the previous three years. The sun was often high and uninhibited in sky, shining brightly, and when it eventually set, the stars in the night sky were more vivid and clear than anyone could remember. As Kristian arrived back to the big city he wondered if the rumours of all the nice weather had been just that. The day of his return was wet and grey, just as he remembered them always being. The rain came down like stair-rods and the streets were covered in long stretches of puddles. The air was hot and humid and the sky was often lit by bright blue flashes of lightening, which were soon followed by the earth-trembling rumble of thunder.
Walking through the streets, Kristian’s feet began to tire from the hours of constant movement. Despite the ache and stiffness of his muscles and the loss of blood from his encounter with Cable, Canola and Volesh, he wanted to avoid as much public transport as possible. His newly purchased clothes were soaked through not only from the rain but also from sweat. As he walked past people, they stared at his blood-stained sleeve and his drenched-through shirt. The night had quickly fallen upon him; he knocked softly on the door and pressed the bell once.
Opening the door to the smile she had longed to see, Jess stood in the doorway with an expression of complete surprise upon her face. Her eyes widened with dismay as she began to take in Kristian’s appearance. His tousled hair drooped over his eyes and wet locks clung to his face. Not saying a word, merely communicating through looks, Jess stood aside to allow Kristian to enter their flat.
Walking straight to the kitchen table, Kristian flopped his body onto a chair, his expression inscrutable as he placed the urn on the table. Entering the kitchen closely behind him, Jess threw a towel over him, “Dry yourself. Drink?” Her tone was flat.
In response to his nodding acceptance, Jess filled the kettle up and flicked it on. Placing teabags and sugar into two cups, she opened the fridge and took out the milk, placing it next to them. Turning around to face him, she spoke.
“So are you going to talk or just sit there and drip?”
He looked up. Hearing her questions, his expression softened and he began to look more ‘with it’; he focused himself.
Smiling, he recognised Jess’s infamous ‘attitude’! Kristian tried to muster his thoughts; the last two days had been overwhelming, leaving a residue of jumbled thoughts and memories. He found himself unable to form clear and concise sentences.
“Yeah good. Yes, I’m good. You okay? Where to start? Where do I start?” he garbled.
Jess finished pouring the water and the milk into the cups and placed one in front of him whilst she took the seat next to him and sat down.
“Well, you can start by telling me what happened to your arm,” as she spoke her hands moved to gently touch Kristian’s wounded right arm.
“Oh this? It’s nothing, looks worse and all that,” he replied moving his throbbing arm away. Taking a sip of his drink, he placed the cup back on the table. Although the boiling hot drink scalded his tongue and lip, he was completely unaware of the pain; the pulsating, aching pain that pervaded the whole of his body swamped any pain a hot drink could cause. Standing up he looked down at her as his thoughts became clear.
“I need you to
leave,” he proclaimed.
Jess was baffled by the outburst and offended by his tone. “Come again,” she barked at him still remaining in her seat.
“Oh. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean for it to sound quite like an order. But I need you to go home, back to your folks.” When he spoke he just stared at her, devoid of all emotion.
“When? Why?” she demanded.
“Tonight,” his eyes didn’t move, his expression didn’t change. “I’m sorry to ask this of you. But things aren’t going to be safe for me round here. Not for a while anyway. If I’m to do the job I must, I can’t do it with you around. I can’t risk you getting hurt.”
Jess was outraged, not at the thought that she was defenceless and needed protecting, but because Kristian was asking this of her and not giving her a truthful reason. “WHY?” she challenged.
Kristian’s face finally showed emotion. “I’ve done something. I’ve killed people.” His eyes reddened with fatigue and his pupils seemed to grow bold and dark. Jess could do nothing; sitting there open-mouthed, her thoughts raced. She had often wondered, ever since he had told her about the Order and his involvement with it, if he had ever killed. Now she knew.
“I’m sure you were doing only what you had to do. I’m sure it was self-defence. This doesn’t make you a bad person, Kris.” She softened, moved towards him and hugged him tightly.
Speaking over her shoulder, Kristian seemed to freeze within himself contemplating the swirling mess of thoughts in his mind.
“I killed them. They were in my way; I had no choice. It wasn’t self-defence though, I killed because I wanted them dead; they killed Oliver. It was justice.” His words were not directed at Jess but at himself. He was troubled by the way he was feeling; death was a subject he avoided, afraid not so much of the questions, but of talking about the answers.
“I’m sure it wasn’t like that. You say they were in your way. You knew they had killed before, you were just protecting yourself.” Jess pulled Kristian’s face back and looked deep into his eyes. Her words rang true; they were in his way and they were indubitably going to kill him.
“You’re right,” he said as he nodded agreement, his eyes still red. He thought about Jess’s words, it may seem like self-defence to her, but it didn’t feel like it, not to him.
“What are you going to do? What’s that?” as Jess spoke tears began to well up; wiping them away with one hand she used the other to point to the urn on the table.
“I’ve to go into the Order, I’ll leave in a minute. That. I have no idea what that is.”
As he spoke he regained the tight embrace placing her tearful and slightly wet face against his shoulder. “Don’t cry for me. I’m fine really. It’s part of the job; I’ve been trained for this. I’m just sorry that I have to ask you to leave.”
“It doesn’t matter. I have nothing to do here for a month. The parentals have been harassing me to go home for a bit anyway. It seems they’re going to get their wish.” As soon as she had finished speaking she broke away from the hug and walked to the window.
“So what’s going to happen now? You’re going to be all right, you say?” Jess said, her tone sounding overly concerned.
“I’m going to be fine. Trust me,” he walked over to the window, stood beside her and took her hands. “Listen, I’m asking you to go, because I can’t risk anything happening to you because of me. I can’t risk someone using you to get to me, using you as leverage. I know I can cope with the fighting and the rest, but if something was to happen to you, well, that would just be the final straw. I love you too much to lose you as well,” his words were spoken softly and truly his eyes showed his feelings towards her.
“You better not be lying to me. You pray that nothing happens to you because if something does I will find you, wherever you are, Kris, and I’ll kick your tight, cute ass,” her eyes now dry, her face lit up and her laugh filled the air briefly for a split second.
“I promise, everything will be fine. Give it a month, and I’ll be right as rain. Now please, I want you to leave tonight, so we don’t have a lot of time to get you on the train.” He looked at her, letting go of her hands, and gently nudging her to move towards her room.
Walking slowly to the door Jess couldn’t help but feel the complexity of her emotions overwhelm her; life had a funny way of changing around her so fast, tonight was just another example of that. Turning to face Kristian she knew what she was going to say but something about the way she said it made it seem so final.
“It is so strange, just over a month ago I didn’t know anything about the Phoenix, I didn’t know about your past, I didn’t know about the life you lead. But now it is the only thing that seems to matter. I still haven’t got my head around it completely, I still feel like it’s all some kind of dream. I do trust you, what you’ve told me, what you have shown me. You recall what I said about courage? It’s true! You are the most courageous person I’ve ever met. Trust me,” she said exiting the room. She deliberately planned it like that so Kristian couldn’t reply. Standing there he turned and looked out of the window. Jess thought he was courageous, the most courageous person she had ever met; he tried to trust her judgment but he knew her to be mistaken.
…
It had been over an hour since he had seen Jess off at the train station. Now he was standing in front of the Order’s Cardinal Office, staring at the entrance, almost afraid to enter through the big oak doors. The rain had relented somewhat so Kristian’s clothes were not as wet as they had been a few hours ago. He had made Jess rush to pack her stuff, pestered her to leave quickly, he convinced her and possibly himself that he urgently needed to return to the headquarters complex. The only thing he had left time to do was find an old bag to carry the grey urn in. As he stared at the bland, intimidating building he found that he wasn’t filled with the same sense of urgency that he had felt when he was with Jess.
Slowly he walked up the grey stone steps and pushed the oak doors open – he was now inside. Standing in the entrance hallway he could see the reception desk and the familiar face of Stanley, who was the only staff member assigned to this position. Stanley stood up as Kristian walked past the reception desk. Ignoring him, Kristian continued on and headed straight into an elevator that indicated that it was going to descend.
“Hey. You okay, son?” Stanley’s body seemed awkward as he leant over his desk trying to look into the lift.
Kristian smiled at him and politely replied, “Yes,” as the lift doors closed; as he began to descend he wondered who was he going to see first; perhaps he should have just called?
Standing upright once more Stanley picked up a phone, surprised and shocked at what he had just seen, the state of the boy. Stanley had a long desk with several phones, television screens and several other gizmos on it.
“Hello sir, Kristian just got into a lift. He looks all beat up.” Stanley fell silent as the voice on the other end spoke and within a few seconds the call was over. Replacing the phone into its cradle, Stanley resumed his seat and then carried on with the variety of tasks his job entailed.
As the lift doors opened onto the hub, all was quiet, he could see a few people at the other end of the corridor but apart from them, it was empty. Leaving the lift, Kristian moved slowly and clumsily as though he was only putting the minimal amount of effort into it. Gazing around he wondered where to go, who to talk to. The whole place seemed dim and lifeless, it was late at night, but he had never seen it like this, he had always imagined headquarters as a twenty-four-hour workplace, busy and lively all the time.
“Kristian,” a voice echoed through the air. It emanated from the far end and was clearly the voice of Jonathon. As his eyes connected the body to the voice he could see Jonathon pacing towards him. Two members of staff in the distance just looked on as Jonathon ran the length of the corridor.
Jonathon, within seconds, was now right in front of Kristian; his eyes widened as Kristian’s appearance impacted on him. Kristian seemed complet
ely worn out; his clothes were drenched, with bloodstains on the arms. He was still wearing the clothes he purchased in Germany, the blood on the sleeve was no longer dark red but more of a light brown as the rain had dispersed it.
Not caring about Kristian’s appearance, Jonathon lunged forward and hugged him tightly; he whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry.”
Kristian backed off, loosening Jonathon’s grip.
“Don’t worry. I’m still alive,” Kristian sniggered, “barely; but I’m still here.”
Jonathon examined the state that Kristian was in, trying to take in his full appearance; Jonathon could tell Kristian had been through hell.
“I… I mean we, have been so worried. Since you didn’t check in, we had started to fear the very worst. I was planning to set up a full investigation team. We were leaving for Berlin tonight.”
“You were planning to go to Berlin?” Kristian spoke with a sense of shock.
“Yes. It’s not a large group, just a few of us in the boardroom. We are a little stretched, remember, I couldn’t risk losing another Phoenix,” Jonathon knew what he was saying was true but that wasn’t the real reason he had wanted to go.
“Well, I appreciate the thought. But just to let you know, if I hadn’t manage to escape by myself, you would have been too late!” Kristian let out a small laugh as he began to walk up the corridor with Jonathon in close pursuit.
“Really? Let’s go into my office,” Jonathon had quickly overtaken him and was now leading Kristian in the direction of his office.
Moments later they had arrived at Jonathon’s office and closing the door quickly Jonathon was glad that they had made it there without anyone else seeing. Moving across the room he cleared a chair for Kristian and sat him down and then sat upon his desk. “So, from the beginning?”
The Phoenix Chronicles: Alone in the Light (Book ONE) Page 19
