Phoenyx in Flames

by Daisy St. James

  “Phoenyx––” He wanted so badly to tell her everything, but he could tell by looking at her, she wasn’t anywhere near ready to accept it.

  Blinking slowly, she lowered her eyes to the floor and frowned. “This conversation isn’t over, H. Be prepared to pick it up when I get back.”

  Nodding his head, he watched helplessly as she turned her back to him and walked out the door with Cortez on her heels.

  Hutton let out a stream of expletives as he sank down, helplessly, into the couch cushions. What have I done?

  ***

  Pulling the door closed behind her, Phoenyx leaned heavily on it for a moment. Her heart hammered frantically in her chest, and Phoenyx exhaled the breath she’d been holding. He knew. He hadn’t denied it. The look on Hutton’s face had told her everything she needed to know, but she had still wanted to hear the words come from his lips.

  He knows Lazarus Morelock. The betrayal was gut wrenching. Does Hutton also know why he is here?

  She closed her eyes tightly and swallowed down the lump in her throat. Something told her he could write a book on the things he’s kept from her.

  “You okay, fresa?” Cortez asked, looking concerned. How was it that a fucking Sand Demon had become her only friend, and someone she could trust more than the man who had raised her? How did that happen?

  She nodded her head briskly and pushed off the door with the heel of her boot. “Yeah, I’m good. Where do we find The Chemist?”

  Cortez fell into stride with her as they marched down the hall. “There’s only one place to find him. Chemical Ink, downtown.”

  FOURTEEN

  Bach––not Sebastian, but surprisingly, Johan––was blaring through the funnel of a fucking Phonograph, of all things, in the corner of the tattoo shop. The brown and white-checkered floors, another vintage touch, were giving Phoenyx a bitching headache. Cortez, on the other hand, couldn’t take his eyes off the busty blonde receptionist with a bleeding-heart chest tattoo and full sleeve of 50’s pinup girls. Phoenyx pinched the skin between her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath.

  It was 2AM on a Tuesday night, which found the parlor stark, save for blondie and a scrawny looking Hotblood sweeping the floor in the back. He was exceptionally pale, with dark circles under his eyes, which lead Phoenyx to believe he belonged to some vamp, either bought through slavery or given himself of his own free will. And by the way he was eyeing up the blonde, it told her he was probably a drudge with benefits, more accurately, blondie’s.

  The shop was as lifeless as the man who owned it, and Phoenyx was beginning to wonder if they were just wasting their time. If she was being honest with herself, the last thing she wanted to be doing was hunting down some tattoo artist on the strip. What she really wanted to do was go back home and get answers from Hutton.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. Fuck it. I’m already here.

  Phoenyx turned to the receptionist and leaned casually against the front desk. “Evening.”

  The blonde rolled uninterested eyes at them before baring her fangs and hissing. Cortez let out a low whistle of appreciation. Phoenyx was just about ready to lose her cool when a man––correction, a vampire, wearing a pristine lab coat came strolling into the room. He had a smile so friendly she balked to think this could be who they were looking for. Turns out, it was exactly who they were looking for.

  “Hey there!” The Chemist grinned from ear to ear, his unusually large teeth awkwardly filling a mouth that seemed too big for his face. She arched a brow at his jovial greeting. Nodding his head slowly, eyes wide with joy behind a pair of vintage eyewear, he clasped his hands together tightly. “Welcome to Chemical Ink. How can I help you two tonight? Looking to have anything in particular done?”

  Phoenyx very slowly closed the distance between them and leaned close enough so that she could whisper in his ear. “I have a few questions for you, Chemist. Namely, if you would happen to know why I have a vampire chained to my bed at this very moment, with your ink on his chest. And why he seems to be exhibiting very strange symptoms. Human symptoms.”

  The smile faded from his face. His eyes began darting around the parlor quickly before he motioned with a long, slender arm for the receptionist to lock up for the night. The blonde curled her lip into a snarl before pushing her rollout stool away from the reception desk and sauntering slowly toward the storefront entrance.

  Turning much cooler eyes in their direction, The Chemist gestured with his head for them to follow him toward the back of the shop. A flutter of excitement unfurled within the pit of Phoenyx’s belly, very different than the feeling she got when danger was nearby. An illicit shiver ran down her spine as she strolled casually past the receptionist, into the back area, and down a long, dark hallway.

  “Are your Spidey Senses tingling, boo?” Cortez murmured as he followed close behind her. She could almost feel his heartbeat in her fingertips as it pounded in his chest.

  ”So far, so good.”

  The Chemist stopped in front of a door that looked like it needed a keycard to get through. Instead, he leaned forward, placing his face firmly in front of a grey box with a red and green light on the front, and waited. A laser shot out and scanned one of his pupils before releasing a mechanical latch somewhere inside of it. Pushing the door open, the Chemist urged them inside, looking back toward the front of the shop before slipping in behind them.

  “Where is he?” The Chemist asked, rubbing his hands together anxiously, a kind of manic expression taking over his eyes, as the tight blond curls on his head bounced with every movement.

  Phoenyx narrowed her eyes at him. Folding her arms beneath her breasts and cocking her head to the side, she asked, “Who?”

  The Chemist giggled excitedly, his eyes dancing with mirth before shrugging his shoulders and throwing his hands up in the air. “Your vampire.”

  “He’s somewhere safe,” Cortez interrupted. Phoenyx could tell immediately that it was a warning for her not to trust a word this deadhead had to say.

  “Okay, okay,” the Chemist ranted breathlessly. “Okay, so he’s somewhere safe. That’s good. That’s good. What’s going on? What’s happening with him? What symptoms is he showing?”

  “First things first,” Phoenyx snapped, stopping him mid-rant. He was eagerly waiting for her to speak, like a Golden Retriever waiting for her to throw him a ball. She took a deep breath. “What do you know about him?”

  “About who?” The Chemist smiled absently.

  “Are you high?” Cortez snapped, searching the vampire’s eyes.

  The Chemist laughed. “No. No. No. Not high, but excited!”

  “About what?” Phoenyx asked, watching as The Chemist awkwardly began to pace.

  “You see, for years––ever since I was turned, I had a theory that Vampirism was a virus,” he began. “It enters into the bloodstream, via the infected hosts saliva, and slowly begins to alter the blood cells, eventually turning a human into a vampire.”

  “Interesting theory,” Phoenyx murmured, eyeing him cautiously. “Go on.”

  “Okay. Okay. Okay.” He was circling the room like a caged lion. “So, a while ago I started developing a drug. I call it The Life Giver. It’s a cocktail of Vitamin C, Iron, Epinephrine and Rythmol. You inject it into an infected host––and wait. It’s incredible! First, the Vitamin C and Iron work to replenish cells lacking blood immediately, while the Epinephrine gradually enters the body to restart the heart. Finally, the Rythmol kicks in to steady the heartbeat, among other delicious little treats I’ve hidden inside.”

  Phoenyx and Cortez eyed him curiously before Cortez finally spoke up. “Are you trying to tell us you’ve cured vampirism?”

  “Fuck no!” The Chemist shouted, laughing hard. Slapping his thigh before quickly turning serious, he replied, “No. But…I think that maybe it can be controlled through proper administration of the drug.”

  Phoenyx was having a hard time wrapping her head around the things he was saying. She shook her head s
lowly. “So––he’s alive?”

  “No!” The Chemist growled, suddenly angry. “No. No. NO! He is not alive. He is not human. He’s still a bloodsucker. Aside from the beating heart and whatever other symptoms he has––wait, what were his other symptoms––nevermind, better you bring him to me. Aside from all the symptoms he’s exhibiting, the sun is still his enemy, and silver will always hurt like a bitch. Right now, he’s just easier to kill because he’s as weak as a lamb.”

  “How long does the drug last?” Phoenyx asked quietly, trying hard to push away the confusion and disappointment she felt deep down inside.

  The Chemist reached behind him to pull forward a stool that he perched on gingerly. He shrugged. “As with most drugs, they need testing. I never tested it before this guy. So, the answer to your question is––I have no fucking clue.” His smile was almost comical.

  “Wait,” Cortex butt in. Pushing past Phoenyx, to stand in front of The Chemist, he asked, “You know our guy?”

  The Chemist nodded briskly. “Oh, yes. He was brought to me two days ago. Strange occurrence. Those who brought him to me demanded he be marked. Hence the tattoo.”

  “Judas,” Phoenyx murmured before looking at The Chemist quizzically, who was nodding sympathetically now. “Is that his name?”

  “I couldn’t tell you!” The Chemist said, throwing his hands up in the air again.

  “Well, will he ever remember anything? Your drug has left him memoryless.”

  Chuckling, The Chemist wagged his finger back and forth, tsking his tongue against his teeth. “No. No. No. Losing his memory wasn’t the drug, kitten. That was something else altogether.”

  “But…”

  “You have to go now,” the Chemist snapped, staring at this wrist, looking at an invisible watch for a time that wasn’t there. “The sun will be up soon, but here is my card. Bring your betrayer to me tomorrow night. I’d like to see how the drug is treating him, if it isn’t out of his system by then.”

  Before either of them knew what was happening, The Chemist was pushing them out the front door and locking down for the night. Phoenyx stared down at the business card for Chemical Ink in her hand, and replayed the very odd encounter over and over again in her mind.

  A drug that causes vampires to briefly experience humanity again? He also called Judas, ‘betrayer.’ Was it a hint that he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing? He stressed the word as he spoke it. The Chemist obviously knows more than he is letting on.

  Cortez seemed equally baffled. “He was off,” Cortez said as they walked toward the Hellcat, eyes skating around the area as they walked. “He was afraid.”

  “What do you mean?” Phoenyx asked, slipping into the car and starting the engine.

  “He’s a straight shooter, fresa. I’ve dealt with The Chemist before,” Cortez murmured, glancing back at the tattoo parlor, before scanning their surroundings again with hawk-like eyes. “But he was talking in riddles. He’s hiding something––or he’s afraid for his life.”

  “I know, C,” Phoenyx muttered as she pulled out of the parking space and sped off. “I know.”

  By the time she had dropped Cortez off at El Muerto Lindo, and got back to the apartment, the sun was beginning to peek curiously over the top of the high-rises in her area.

  That morning, the hallway leading to her apartment seemed the longest walk she’d ever taken. During her encounter with The Chemist, she’d completely forgotten that she and Hutton had some unfinished business––and she wasn’t nearly ready enough. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she pushed open the front door to her apartment.

  The apartment was dark, as thankfully, Hutton had managed to cover up the windows enough so as not to let any of the dawns light shine in. He was sitting hunched over on her couch, his elbows on his knees and his fingers clutched together. She quietly stepped inside, and he turned his head, but stared at her shoes instead of her face.

  “How did it go?” He whispered.

  “Weird,” she replied, pursing her lips and shoving her hands deep into her pockets. “He was really fucking weird, but he gave us a scientific explanation for it all.”

  “Phoenyx––”

  She held up her hand swiftly. “Don’t, H. Please, just––just don’t. Unless you have a really good fucking reason for why you kept the fact that you know the monster who’s been trying to kill me, forget it.”

  “He doesn’t want you dead,” Hutton whispered, running a worried hand over his goatee, before turning his brilliant blue eyes on her. Standing quickly, he reached into his back pocket and pulled an envelope from its depths.

  Phoenyx eyed it suspiciously, but as he moved closer to her, she was finally able to see how tired he looked. Reaching out, Hutton carefully grabbed her shoulder, running his hand down its length before taking her hand and lifting it to him, palm up. He placed the envelope in its center and smiled sorrowfully. Her brows drew together as he closed her fingers around it and then stepped back, beginning to collect his things.

  “I’m going to go now,” he said gently. “Judas is resting, and he’s been fed. He even managed to keep some of it down this time. I’ll be back in the evening, and we’ll talk––when you’re ready.”

  She opened her mouth to answer him, but he was already out the front door and down the hall before she could get any of the words she wanted to say out. Staring down at the envelope in her hand, a deep and pure warmth began to spread through her fingertips and up her arm, until it settled comfortably in her heart. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in many years. So incredibly familiar and sweet it was almost unbearable. Tears immediately sprang into her eyes and began rolling down her cheeks. She moved over to the spot Hutton had abandoned on the couch and sat quickly, tearing open the envelope to reveal a handwritten letter.

  Dearest Darling Jane,

  My sweet girl––you are sleeping in your bed at this very moment, surrounded by only light and joy, as I sit to write this very painful goodbye. Looking down at you, your big, beautiful eyes that shine so brightly with intelligence and bravery, are closed now. You have no idea what lies ahead for you, and I wish I could be there to help guide you through the toughest years, my darling daughter. I wish I could be there to see the woman that you’ll become, but unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be in my cards anymore.

  As I came to fetch you from your bed earlier today, a mourning dove flew through the window and perched itself plaintively on the sill to sing its song. It was then I knew that it wouldn’t be long before I would be taken from you. Somehow, someway, it had become the end, and there are still so many things I want to say to you, my heart. So many feelings and so much knowledge I will never be able to pass on to you. The thought of me no longer being here to protect you has broken me from the inside––and so, I’m writing you this letter to explain it all in the best way I can.

  You, my darling, are not a monster. I know that sometimes you may feel that way, but it’s only because you are still too young to understand just how incredibly powerful you are. Even at this age, barely into the first decade of your life, you’ve shown greater power than I have ever had. Power that I know stems from my lineage––and this gives me hope. I know it can be frightening, but there is nothing to fear, Jane. When you are older, you will grow to be one of the most powerful women to walk this Earth, and I know in my heart of hearts that you will use all that power for good.

  But before I say what I have to say, I must tell you the truth. Liam McGuire is not your father. You were already a year old when I met him, and he fell so deeply in love with me that he married me immediately so that I wouldn’t have to raise you on my own. There are days I regret that decision. He did not know then what I was––what we were, but eventually, when the truth began to surface, he became a difficult man to bear. I cannot express how truly sorry I am for the way he has treated you. You deserved all the love in the world.

  Your real father’s name is Lazarus Morelock, and he will spend the rest of his days on this
Earth, hunting you down, until you are his––and I cannot have that. You must never come into contact with him. That is why I’m entrusting you into the hands of my brother, and your uncle, Hutton Grimshaw. You will grow under his tutelage and learn about the family you never got the chance to know. You will learn the history of your Witch ancestors and how to harness your powers as they continue to come to you. Hutton will guide you in the ways I will not be able to, once I’m gone.

  Oh, Jane…I am going to miss you so very much. Please, don’t ever forget how much you were loved. All my heart belonged to you, and no one else, once you were born. You became my one reason to breathe, day in and day out. There is so much good in you, my angel. So much purity and energy. You will be a force to be reckoned with. I only wish I could be there to witness it myself.

  I love you, my sweet, darling girl. You must promise me you will never blame yourself for my passing. No matter what you learn, it was my time. We all have one. We will meet again on the other side.

  Love for all eternity,

  Mama

  The letter slipped from her fingers carelessly to the floor before she lifted shaky hands to her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears and she was trembling. Judas stirred on the bed and her eyes shot nervously to him as he lay there, unconscious and dreaming. Not alive, as she once thought. But still, very much the enemy.

  She pressed her fingers to her lips to suppress the sobs that wanted to spill forth. Hutton was her uncle, her real family, and he had lied to her all these years. She didn’t know how to feel about it. A part of her wanted to rip him to shreds, and another part of her wanted to know everything. She was no longer and orphan. Happiness should have been at the forefront of her emotions, but her mouth was bitter from the betrayal.

  Then there was the news that Lazarus Morelock, the Ancient vampire dead-set on having her killed, was her father. It went against everything she’d ever learned about vampires. They couldn’t breed––it just wasn’t possible. Then again, Judas’ heartbeat should have been impossible too, yet there it was. All her life she’d been protected from Lazarus, only to have him find her now. Why now? What did he want?