Phoenyx rolled her eyes as a grin nearly split Hutton’s face. "Just the muscle, eh?"
Turning, she threw a glance over her shoulder in return, but didn’t acknowledge the subtle compliment. "I should get going. This all-powerful, ancient vampire with impeccable taste in shoes isn't going to find himself. Wish me luck."
She could feel Hutton's eyes on her as she retreated.
"We make our own luck, my dear." Hutton replied.
FOUR
The night was alive with supernatural activity. It crackled and hummed like waves of supercharged electricity, ricocheting off Phoenyx's skin. Most of the human world had no idea of the blood wars fought daily, that kept them out of harm's way. However, some unwittingly found themselves caught in the middle. Anxiety crept its way into Phoenyx's heart. This douchbag Vampire who placed such a very large target on my back not only threatened my life, but the lives of the people I was sworn to protect. Someone has to stop him, but I had to find him first.
***
Cortez had been about as helpful as an asshole on her elbow, but she knew one thing for certain, he hadn’t been lying. He really was as clueless as the rest of them. A lot of good it did. If Cortez was in the dark, she was shit out of luck.
Her phone began to hum against her hip as she walked briskly through a group of oncoming pedestrians. She looked down and grimaced, mumbling to herself. "Speak of the Sand Demon."
She brought the cell phone to her ear sharply and snapped a greeting. “Cortez, talk to me.”
"Are you sitting down?"
Her stride picked up speed. "Sure."
"Your middle name must be trouble, mama, because you're in it––and a lot of it," Cortez whispered into the phone.
"We've established this," she retorted. "Go on."
Phoenyx could hear him shuffling around some papers and rapidly chewing on his gum. He had better not be wasting my damn precious time, or I will skin him alive.
"My guy, you know, Morty?"
She was sure she’d broken some Olympic record for eye-rolling today as her eyes slid skyward. “Yeah, I’ve heard of the little slimeball.”
"Well,” Cortez began, the sound of his gum under his gnashing teeth telling her he was going for his own Olympic record. “Morty was partying with a couple of vamps last night who said they'd been hired to snuff out The Phoenyx."
"Bob and Curt?"
Cortez snorted. "Hell naw! These bloodsuckers run with a dangerous crowd, baby. Biker bloods. Spider's crew."
Phoenyx cursed under her breath, eyes darting to take in her surroundings. Suddenly, everyone was a threat. She had to make damn sure no one suspicious was following her.
It was certainly shaping up to be a bad night.
She and Spider went way back, and the history was gruesome. By vampire standards, he was pretty old, being in and around 200-years-old. He was strong, ruthless, and he’d been wanting her dead since she was sixteen. Now someone was paying him to do it? It was a dangerous combo.
That soulless bloodsucker must have chomped at the bit. Fuck.
"Who hired him?" She demanded.
Cortez paused. "That's just it––Morty doesn't know. Nobody knows. But one thing is for damn sure––whoever it is ain't pulling no stops. You're worth a cool million, baby."
Phoenyx ground her teeth. Motherfucker. "Where's Morty?"
"No, no, no," Cortez mumbled. "Hands off Morty. Morty's mine. If you need answers, I will get them for you. I swear. In the meantime, does The Nearing mean anything to you?"
"No," she murmured absentmindedly, as a shadow fumbled into a nearby alley, catching her eye.
"Well, Spider's boys kept harping about how you couldn’t be allowed to reach The Nearing. They had to bring you in before The Nearing." Cortez rushed on. "Are you sure you don’t know anything about…"
She only half-heard Cortez as she followed the source of the shadow into the alleyway. Something wasn’t right.
An overwhelming sense of dread and despair fell over her, seeping into her bones and coating her lungs. She could feel pain, confusion and fear, but the unmistakable recognition of vampire power held her stupefied.
Her head was spinning. It just didn’t make any sense at all.
Dead things aren't supposed to feel.
"I'm going to have to call you back," she said quietly before hanging up the phone on Cortez, mid-rant.
There was a faint moan, followed by a scuffle, and then a full-blown struggle coming from behind a dumpster. The cement floor of the alley glimmered beneath the streetlamp overhead as she eased closer. The lamp flickered and dimmed considerably, like something in a horror film, casting an eerie glow against the brick walls on either side.
Phoenyx crouched, a predatory gleam in her eye, and slid a silver stake out of her boot before advancing. Her heart was hammering wildly in her chest as the thrill of the hunt coursed through her, beginning to take over.
As she approached the dumpster, she was seized by an onslaught of emotion that nearly incapacitated her. The force of the sensations that hit her had her stumbling backward, her footing uneven. Immediately, her eyes fell on the vampire curled into a ball, clutching his head, his fingers woven tightly through the dark brown curls there. Moans of agony slipped from his lips, each one sending wave after wave of nausea coursing through her body.
"What fresh hell is this?" She hissed, clutching her stomach and fighting back the bile that rose at the back of her throat, burning her nasal passages.
The vampire raised weak, blood-rimmed eyes to meet her own, and extended a pleading hand. "Help. Me."
Phoenyx shook her head, trying to clear the fog that had permeated her brain. There was so much intense pain and misery coming off this vampire in violent waves, that it was making her physically ill.
Fumbling for her phone, she hit the speed dial for Hutton, but all it did was ring. Cursing, she flung the phone away from her and fell to her knees, praying for an end to the vortex of intensity that was absorbing into her at a cellular level.
"Please," the vampire groaned pathetically through blood-tinged tears. "Please. Help. Me."
Hypnotized, Phoenyx lengthened her fingertips toward his extended ones. As if some magical force was pulling them together, an electric blue haze passed between their fingers in what looked like currents. A wave shot through her arm like a lightning bolt, and she gasped.
The vampire’s grey-blue eyes widened, meeting Phoenyx's intensely. No words passed between them, but as their eyes locked, it felt as though Phoenyx knew everything there was to know about him, without knowing anything at all. A strange sense of kindredness encased her heart as their fingers clasped together tightly, and a powerful white light wrapped their bodies. She could feel his pain beginning to subside as it changed into something more akin to awe. Unexpectedly, the white light dissipated in an upward beam, a hot wind blowing between them as it dematerialized, leaving them both panting and shaken by what had happened.
Phoenyx felt parched, as if she’d been lost in the desert for weeks. She tried to rid her mind of the remaining fog by shaking it clear.
"Who," Phoenyx rasped. "Who are you?"
The vampire appeared just as confused, if not more shaken than her. He gazed down, exhausted. Looking at their joined hands, his eyes were turbulent and disoriented. Before holding her eyes captive one last time, he reached out to touch her face lightly, his hand trembling.
"I don't know." He whispered before passing out at her feet.
Releasing the breath she had been holding, Phoenyx fumbled around on the ground with shaky fingers until she found her phone. As her hand tightened around it, her eyes caught something glinting in the hollow of the vampire’s neck. She stilled as recognition flooded her.
The memory of burning, acrid smoke filled her senses. The heat of the flames, as they surrounded her body came to the forefront of her mind. She was right back in Warehouse B, crawling around in the sweltering heat, searching.
Slowly, she reached out
and let her fingers trace the delicate, golden Phoenix in the shape of an ankh that lay nestled against his cold, pale skin in the hollow of this throat. It was her mother's necklace. The one that she thought she'd lost earlier tonight when she'd attacked that nest.
Her fingers quivered as she tried to dial a number.
"Phoenyx? Is that you, fresa? Are you all right?"
Phoenyx's breath rushed out quickly, the initial shock replaced with something new. Her heart was hammering a mile a minute, and the shaking in her body was reaching high levels of anxiety.
"Cortez, you need to get down here. Pronto. We've got a body to move."
FIVE
Jane studied her mother's fingers curiously, as she clutched her cold hand. It had been only moments before that she could feel her mother’s warmth, pride and love for her, nestled comfortably at the center of her chest. A beacon to guide her in times of trouble. Now it was gone. Extinguished for all eternity.
Her eyes traveled the lines on her mother’s hands, the cuticles near her fingertips turning from blue to black. Her mother’s hand lay stiffly in the warmth of Jane’s small fingers, as quiet tears slipped down her flushed cheeks. She couldn’t bring herself to look into the still, ashen face of her now dead mother.
"Mommy?" she whispered, hoping by some miracle that her mother would open her crystal blue eyes and smile at her, telling her it would all be okay. Only, Jane knew better than that. It wouldn’t be okay. Not ever again.
Blinking hard, Jane untangled her fingers from her mother’s and smoothed the cuff of her nightgown over the back of her hand. From the other room, the voice of her father rang out in the deafening silence. Just then, another man's voice accompanied him, with an accent she’d never heard before.
"Mr. McGuire, you and I both know the child is…special."
"She's a demon."
Jane winced at her father’s words. They cut into her like knives.
Even at the tender age of five, she knew how much her father feared her. Her mother had never been afraid though. She could always look deep inside of her mother and find every ounce of love she felt for her there, and her mother could do the same. They shared an unbreakable bond, which despite her father’s hatred of her, could never be broken. She’d only ever loved Jane unconditionally, and now she was gone.
Jane wasn’t sure where she went, or even why, all she knew was how her mind had simply gone quiet the moment her eyes closed. The silence had been deafening, and she’d never felt emptier.
Standing, Jane wiped her face dry and leaned over her mother, tenderly kissing her cheek. Reaching behind her mother's neck, she unclasped the gold necklace that clung there with shaky fingers.
She gazed at the intricate gold design. It was something her mother had chosen to wear rather than the cross her father had bought her on their wedding day. Her mother used to always say that one-day, when the time was right, it would belong to Jane.
Fastening the charm around her neck, Jane smoothed down the front of her pale-yellow summer dress and straightened her thin shoulders. Her mother would want her to be brave now. She would tell her to hold her head up high and be strong. Jane knew that was what needed to be done, but to do so, she would have to finally say goodbye, and Jane didn’t think she was quite brave enough for that.
Biting her lip, she swallowed down the lump in her throat and decided she would say, ‘see you later’, instead. Raising her eyes skyward, she whispered those words fervently into the open air, hoping beyond hope that they could somehow reach her mother and that it really was ‘see you later’, and not just ‘goodbye.’
Without looking back, Jane turned and padded barefoot into the other room, her feet sticking slightly to the hardwood with every step she took. Fear hung thickly in the air and Jane could hear the delicate whispers of her father’s thoughts as she approached. Each emotion reaching like a smoky tendril to tickle her mind. She knew there was another person in the room because she’d heard his voice, but for some reason, his whispers were silent.
"Hello," Jane said softly, startling her father. She startled him quite easily these days.
Liam McGuire physically stumbled backward as she approached. She cast her eyes downward, so he couldn’t see how hurt she was by his rejection of her. When her mother was alive, she wouldn’t accept his fear of her and would fight and curse him into submission, but Jane never wanted her father’s love through submission. Now that her mother was gone, there was no one left to fight for her.
She moved slowly, so as not to startle her father further, until she was standing directly before the well-dressed man who had called her “special.” His shoes were very shiny.
"I'm Jane," she said, introducing herself as politely as she could, with the sting of tears in her eyes.
"Indeed, you are." The man said, crouching down beside her. He had salt and pepper hair, and a very kind smile. "I'm Hutton Grimshaw."
Something told her that even though his mind was blank to her, she could trust him, and she slipped her hand into his. Mr. Grimshaw’s hands were smooth and strong, not calloused, like her father's rough, working hands. He gave her hand a light squeeze.
Jane's large green eyes met her father's. She was sad. She only ever wanted her father's love, but that was something his terror would not allow him to give her. It was something she knew she would never know, and she had to accept that for what it was.
"I'm going to go now," she whispered.
Liam nodded stiffly at her. In her mind’s eye, she could see how she looked to him––small, strawberry-blonde hair, and eyes that were old beyond her years. It surprised Jane to sense the underlying guilt he was feeling. He swallowed with difficulty. His heart began to clench with a kind of longing, perhaps for the child he wished she could have been.
Jane reached inside of herself, pulling all the sadness she felt, and projected it onto her father. His eyes widened, and Jane could feel the dread gripping him.
"I’m so sorry!" Liam whispered fervently.
Jane shook her head slowly, the golden halo of hair on her head moving over her frail shoulders as her big eyes crackled with energy. It was too late for an apology.
Wordlessly, she tugged on Hutton Grimshaw's gentle hand, and before she knew it, they were climbing into the shiny black car that sat parked in front of the house she'd always called home. There would be no backward glances.
She gazed out the window solemnly and heaved a sigh that echoed the weight on her shoulders. "Mr. Grimshaw…"
"Hutton––please. Call me, Hutton."
Jane faced him suddenly, those large emerald eyes pinning him relentlessly. "My mother loved me, you know."
Hutton nodded and smiled. "Yes, Jane, she did. She loved you very much, but your father feared you.”
"He didn't understand," she said. "But you do. You're not afraid of me. Why?"
He smiled as the car lurched forward. "I don't fear you, my dear. You see, I knew your mother very well. That necklace you have around your neck, I gave that to her so that she could one day give it to you, when you were older. Your mother was a great…woman."
Tentatively, Jane smiled back.
"You talk funny." She commented shyly.
Grimshaw laughed a full-bodied laugh, as he tenderly smoothed the hair away from her big green eyes.
"Oh, Sweet Jane," he whispered quietly. "You have no idea just how special you truly are. You are bound for greatness, dear child."
Jane didn’t entirely understand what her funny talking gentleman meant, but she did know one thing––she felt more like a daughter in the past five minutes than she had her entire life. Impetuously, she reached over and hugged him.
“Am I going to live with you now?” Jane whispered into his neck, hugging him as tightly as her small arms would allow.
Hutton squeezed back. “Yes. You’re safe now. I’m going to teach you things you’ve only ever dreamed of, little one. And we’ll learn together, you and I. We must help one another out now, alright? Can
we do that, Jane?”
"I'll always make you proud of me!" She cried, burying her face in his nice smelling neck. "I promise!"
Hutton squeezed her tightly as they drove off into the fading sunlight.
"I have no doubt you will," he whispered.
SIX
Phoenyx idly toyed with her mother's golden charm. Absentmindedly, she slid the delicate chain over and across her lips, as she eyed the sleeping vampire, shackled to her bed with silver chains. They wouldn’t hurt him––well, not much, but they would weaken his power somewhat if he turned out to be an ancient. Something told her that wouldn’t be the case in this situation.
The vampire she was looking for was still out there somewhere, so this was something different. She kept replaying the night's events over and over again in her mind. What happened in the alley was beyond anything her mind could fully process alone, which was why she needed Hutton. Too many things just didn't add up in the equation, and yet, everything came together too perfectly. The nest, the trap, Spider's involvement, and then there was this incoherent gem lying in her bed.
The vampire stirred ever so slightly. He’d been sleeping, yes, sleeping, ever since she’s gotten him back to her apartment, with Cortez’s help. Cortez had left a while ago, to find Hutton for her.
She shook her head as the vampire tugged slightly at his chains. It looked like he was dreaming. Of course, that was impossible, because he was a fucking vampire––and dead. However, a lot of impossible things seemed to be happening.
It was common knowledge that the dead don’t need to sleep, hence, they don’t dream. However, this enigma had been tossing and turning in his slumber for more than an hour already.
Interesting.
Across the room, Phoenyx's phone buzzed an erratic dance across the top of her dresser. She stood gracefully and made her way over to answer it. "It's about time," she ground out. "I could have been dead by now."
Phoenyx in Flames Page 3
