“So Zhing’s okay then? God it’s all go here tonight isn’t it?” Jean said, his voice drenched with concern.
“Zhing will be fine, she’s the last person you should be worried about, Jean. She can kick some serious demonic rear when she gets going! In my opinion, she is the third strongest out of all the Phoenixes in the Order,” said Sam.
“Third?” exclaimed Rachel as she poured milk into a mug with coffee. “What, so you think it goes Yi-Mao, Brendan then Zhing? What about Kara?”
“Yeah, Kara is tough,” Jean nodded.
“True, but Zhing would definitely kick her ass in a fight,” replied Sam.
Kieran guffawed loudly and shook his head, “No way would Zhing kick Kara’s ass. It goes Yi-Mao, Brendan, Kara then Zhing.”
“You’re crazy!” Sam shouted. “Kara is so rarely here, when have you even seen her fight, huh? Zhing could take her easily.”
Kieran was about to react when Rachel interrupted, “Guys, guys, calm down. Does it really matter who can take who? It’s never going to happen is it? Why are you even arguing about it?”
On hearing Rachel speak, the two men turned away from each other with folded arms like children being separated in the playground. Rachel smiled to herself at their reaction, as did Jean who was now holding the remote control and flicking through the channels on the television. Silence filled the room as the volume on the TV increased.
“And now we cross over to our US correspondent who is in New York.”
“Hello. Thanks Julia, I’m standing in front of what is one of the biggest tourist attractions in the world, which last night became the scene of a horrific blaze. Less than eight hours ago, the statue of Liberty was on fire. As you can see, there has been extensive damage to the exterior of the statue, which officials are estimating will cost millions of dollars to repair. I’m having to stand this far away as there are concerns that the copper is still too hot and the structure itself may be unstable. President John Finch is set to visit the scene later today. We are being told that there are no fatalities but so far fifteen people have been injured with five of those sustaining critical injuries.”
Switching the TV off, Jean threw the remote on to the table. “Always the same, bad news. Fire here, war there. I hate British television.”
“Hey, that’s not just British TV, you know? It’s the news and they have that in all countries, Jean, even your beloved France. And if you didn’t watch the news all the time, perhaps you wouldn’t feel so crappy about it,” Rachel replied as Sam and Kieran started to get back into their heated discussion about who was the strongest Phoenix.
“Well, what else am I supposed to watch? Your country is obsessed with nothing else except reality shows. Always reality shows with you English.”
Rachel was a little infuriated by his comments although what he was saying wasn’t really bothering her personally. She realised that she was just ridiculously tired and feeling slightly strained. She felt the urge to start an argument with Jean but as she glanced over to Sam and Kieran, who were still going strong in their discussion, she decided to let it go.
The door to the room opened and in walked Kristian who looked to be deep in thought. Rising to their feet, the four of them moved to greet him as he walked towards them.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asked as she moved out of his way.
His eyes didn’t meet anyone’s, he simply slumped heavily into the chair before him and placed his head in his hands. Moving over and perching on the armrest, Rachel began to stroke his back. “What did the doc say?”
“She said I’m fine,” Kristian still did not look up but just continued to sit there with his head down. “She said I have hardly any signs of a fight and most of my wounds have already healed,” as he spoke, he lifted up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal his arm that less than twenty-four hours ago was deeply wounded and bleeding; now all that remained were a few scabs.
As Rachel and the rest of the gang glanced at Kristian’s healed wounds, they all wondered what must be going on in his head. As a Phoenix, he knew that he healed faster than a normal human. Before anyone could speak, he looked up at them. They were all hovering above him, looking down inquisitively.
“Guys. Seriously, I’m good, okay?” The agitation was clear in his voice. The trio moved slowly to the sofa as Kristian followed them with his eyes. Kieran was the last to sit and as he did, he caught Kristian’s eye and said, “We are just concerned about you, Kris.”
The others all nodded their heads in agreement with him and then quickly turned back to Kristian. “So the doc gave you the all-clear, you’re not worried about that. Are you worried about the Council’s envoy?” said Rachel.
He did not respond with words to her question but his lips curved and his eyes twitched, his face showed the inner turmoil he now faced. The signs were missed by Sam and Jean but with female intuition and Kieran’s close friendship, the pair picked up the discreet signal.
“I told you, it’s just a formality, tit for tat. No need to worry,” Kieran responded. “And you know that Jonathon has got your back, he won’t let anything happen to you.”
Again, these words did very little to comfort Kristian whose opinion of Jonathon had changed somewhat in the last few hours. Rachel’s hand continued to stroke his back in a gesture of support.
“You’re not surprised that the Council have reacted are you? I mean you must’ve had some sort of inkling that what you did would have some repercussions?” said Sam.
“I wouldn’t say I’m surprised, not really. It’s just the way that they are going about it. I imagined that the Council would have me killed or something, not all this diplomatic shit, envoys and that crap. It’s so bureaucratic, tit for tat as they say.”
Kristian felt angry and confused but his voice portrayed a being that was calm and coherent, as if he had known that it would all turn out like this. He really hated the world he was in. “Like, I could deal with them sending some assassin or something. Vampires and monsters I can cope with, but them all sitting around a nice little table, discussing my punishment is something I have no control over. I feel like some naughty kid at school. Look guys as much as I tried to distance myself from this life, I can’t escape the training I’ve had. That training was to teach me one thing – to kill, to survive,” as he spoke Kieran looked as though he wanted to interrupt and explain to Kristian that killing was a last resort, but he decided to let him continue. “And now all I can think of is my training, it’s all I have.”
“That is not all you have, Kristian,” Rachel stopped stroking his back and looked hurt.
Cutting her off and throwing her arm away from him, he raised his voice. “If you come out with some American crap like we’ll have each other, you can keep it because I don’t want your psychological bullshit right now.”
“She’s right though, Kris, you don’t have to face this alone. This is the Order of Light. We all stick together. We’re all in this as well and we will all support each other.”
Kristian’s response to Sam’s words was to simply to look him up and down.
“Look, don’t get me wrong, guys, I appreciate what you are trying to do but I feel helpless at the moment. There are people deciding my life for me, and there is nothing I or any of you can do about it.”
“Kristian, you have made your own decisions so far. You decided to go to Berlin alone, and I’m sorry to say it but you decided to kill those men.” Kieran’s words were harsh but true. “And don’t think for one second that Jonathon, Peter or Andrew will sell you out; because I promise you, they won’t.”
“I dunno. I just feel alone and helpless. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore, I think I’m gonna go to bed,” he pulled himself to his feet and all of them followed him with their eyes. As he walked through the door he heard a few of them say goodnight but did not respond. He closed the door and listened for them to speak. There was silence for about a minute after he had left the room. He suspected that they were waiting unti
l he was a safe distance away before they started talking about him. Kristian rarely trusted anyone. He felt at ease keeping his emotions in check and although he knew that he could trust the gang with his life, that wasn’t what he had to question. He felt so alone, in a building that contained hundreds of workers, in a city that contained millions of people. The one person in his life whom he felt he could trust was now safely on her way out of the city, but even from Jess, he had concealed too much.
His right ear began to hurt as he pressed it hard against the door, then after the silence, all of a sudden, the gang began to speak from within. He wasn’t sure if they were attempting to speak in hushed tones or not but he could hear every word. He listened intently for about fifteen minutes. A part of him wanted them to slate him in some way but the group only uttered words of concern, each of them trying to figure out ways in which to help him and why he was so withdrawn. Not one of them had a clue. He began to tire of his eavesdropping and was about to leave when he heard Kieran’s voice: his ears perked up. “To be honest, I think I would feel the same in his position. I suppose, in a sense he really doesn’t have a choice, unlike us four. Each of us made the choice to be in this world, he didn’t. This world only offers him pain and misery whereas we all enjoy our jobs, we relish our gifts. It’s a life he doesn’t understand. I doubt any of us will ever know the burden he carries. None of us will carry it, not even me.”
Kristian froze. Something about the tone of Kieran’s voice sent a shiver down his spine, “He knows,” the words sneaked out of his mouth. Clutching both hands over his mouth, he stepped away from the door. His thoughts dwelled on Kieran; did he know? How could he?
Later that night, lying in his bed, the two questions kept going round in his head; he was unable to reach an answer to them. Before he drifted off to sleep, he was left with the thought that perhaps Kieran’s knowledge had been gained through magic.
…
Slamming his fists hard on the table so that the sound hit everyone’s ears hard, Môn’ark Toral spoke, his voice deep and angry. “How long must we continue to play these games? You have heard our request, now what is your response?”
The three men all appeared relaxed and unintimidated by Môn’ark’s aggressive stance. Peter was the first to respond, leaning forwards, his voice soft and probing. “We have gone over this many times. Our response is: your claims are absurd, as is your request.”
As Peter spoke each word, a new level of rage crossed Môn’ark’s face; his eyes were squinting as his forehead caved. “Absurd!” he yelled.
“Calm yourself, Môn’ark,” Isobel’s soft, gentle voice was met by a deadly stare. “Môn’ark, please?” glancing over towards Jonathon she gave him a look as if to initiate a reaction.
“Thank you, Isobel,” he said. “You understand that we cannot simply hand over one of our members on your say-so. We need evidence,” he spoke directly to Isobel as if reaching out to her, sending her a hidden message.
“Yes, I agree,” Isobel replied and as she did, delight crossed Jonathon, Andrew and Peter’s faces. Môn’ark and Ghost both looked towards Isobel. Their look was not angry, but inquisitive.
“Well, I’m glad you agree, now if we could draw a line under this event. I will order a full investigation into the happenings in Berlin and you will receive a copy when it is complete,” Jonathon’s voice though drenched with tiredness was also arrogant and insincere.
“Oh, you misunderstand me, Jonathon. I agree that the request is absurd without evidence, but evidence is what we bring,” as she spoke, she pulled out a compact disc and slid it towards him. Gripping it softly, he flicked his wrist and passed it to Peter who was already gesturing to one of the security guards who instantly nodded and left the room. An eerie silence filled the room, and there were tense faces on all those who sat around the table. The minute was long and not one word was uttered. The sound of heavy breathing and the humming from the air conditioning system were the only noises that filled the room. This was interrupted by the opening of the door and the re-entering of the guard, who had in his arms a small white notepad computer. The guard placed the screen in front of Peter who was already opening the disk drive and placing the CD in. After a few seconds of loading and several clicks, a window appeared on the screen. There in front of the three men, a CCTV film of the events in Berlin. What could be made out from the fuzzy image was three men in a room, sitting around; two of them appeared to be playing cards. The video was coloured but the quality low and there was no sound.
“What you can see there is the closed circuit footage from a property in Berlin, a warehouse. These three men were considered employees of Leceth, and therefore entitled to the protection of the Council and, therefore, the Treaty. The door behind them is the entrance, I am told,” Isobel’s words drifted, quietly threatening, through the ears of the three leaders of the Order, but their eyes remained transfixed on the monitor in front of them.
The events quickly unfolded just as Kristian had described them. The view from the camera was distorted. Jonathon, Andrew and Peter’s eyes glazed over in horror as they witnessed Kristian bursting through the door and ruthlessly disposing of one of the men swiftly, looking like he had taken him unawares, before a short and brutal fight resulting in the deaths of the remaining two.
Smiles of delight crossed the faces of Môn’ark Toral and Ghost on witnessing the looks of worry from the men across from them. Jonathon quickly shook the look from his face, closed the notepad and with a stern look, he stared at Isobel and crossed his arms.
“As you can see, your man clearly violated the code; his actions were brutal and calculated with murderous intent,” said Isobel, undeterred by Jonathon’s glare.
“Our claims are not so absurd now are they?” said Môn’ark with sinister glee.
Peter and Andrew both drew deep breaths and looked at Jonathon who was deep in thought. Both of them were about to respond when Jonathon released his arms and told them both to be calm.
“You can’t expect us to take this footage as unequivocal evidence, can you? Not at first glance anyway. Thank you for bringing it to our attention though. I shall certainly include it in my investigation,” Jonathon rose to his feet to signal that the meeting was at an end.
Slamming his fist again on the table, Môn’ark, too, rose to his feet. “Do not patronise us, human. We are not here for show. Give us the boy, or else.”
“Or else? That sounds like a threat,” said Peter as he and Andrew stood up.
“It is not a threat,” interrupted Isobel. “He is merely frustrated. Please all sit down, I am sure we can resolve this.”
No one returned to their seats and instead Môn’ark, in anger, kicked his chair backwards. As it collided with the wall the back broke. Peter jumped at the jarring crack.
“No Isobel, it is a threat. You have one option. That is to hand over the boy or there shall be consequences. The Council has no time for your human games now,” Môn’ark signalled to his companions with a menacing glare.
“You can’t seriously expect us to turn him over to you just because you demand it based on a few minutes of unverified, unclear footage?” Peter’s voice was still shaky due to the start that the chair had given him.
“Yes we can. We turned Sauror over to you on your say-so. He was a member of our Council and we placed him in your custody as a sign of our commitment. It is clear that this Treaty is one-sided. We want Kristian in our hands. You have twelve hours,” Ghost said, his eerie voice echoing through the room.
Jonathon was more than exasperated with the direction of the conversation; he had expected things to be more amicable. He knew that he was walking on thin ice, but he was in no doubt that he was not going to meet their demands.
“Twelve hours, twelve weeks or twelve years, I wouldn’t wait if I were you. The Sauror situation was completely different; there was more than ample evidence from an investigation that lasted months. I’m not going to spend this entire evening playing games with
you. Now I am telling you, this meeting is over. Get out of my house,” Jonathon’s voice was unwavering and his eyes penetrated deep into those of his guests. Isobel showed signs of conceding as she slowly made her way towards the door. Ghost and Môn’ark however were resolute and just stood where they were, staring Jonathon down. Their glares were only released when Môn’ark turned and headed to the door, followed by a reluctant Ghost. Turning to face Jonathon just before his exit, Môn’ark’s eyes locked with Jonathon’s as he spoke. “I am sad to say that you have forced our hand. The demand stands. You will deliver this Kristian to me by two o’clock tomorrow or else we shall release the Jakyll onto the streets of this city.”
Jonathon, Andrew and Peter all felt the same dread wash over them. They couldn’t quite believe what they were hearing. The shock almost stopped them from formulating any kind of sentence, until Jonathon wrangled his mind together. “Môn’ark! What is the purpose, what would that achieve? You cannot release the Jakyll. If you do, we shall take it as an act of war and respond accordingly.”
Môn’ark merely shrugged off Jonathon’s comments. “Take it any way you will, human. If a war is started on this day then the responsibility shall rest with you,” finishing his words, he flicked his cape over his shoulder and left the room and then the building. On his exit, Môn’ark was swiftly followed by his entourage and then Ghost. Walking slowly through the corridor, Isobel was making for the exit until she was halted by the sound of a panicked Jonathon.
In a matter of seconds he was at her side, his face was red and his eyes were puffy.
The Phoenix Chronicles: Alone in the Light (Book ONE) Page 21
