Fury of a Phoenix (The Nix Series Book 1)

by Shannon Mayer

  Time was not something I would have if Simon ditched us.

  Abe and I wove our way through the small subdivision until we were on the main road that would take us to the highway. There was heavy bush on either side of the road, and if I cut through it we would shave time off and keep out of sight. With a sigh, I checked my wrist watch for the compass, making sure we headed the right way, and slid down the embankment that took me into the thicker bush.

  Abe leapt ahead of me, bouncing through the long grass.

  Ten minutes into the bushwhacking, I checked my wrist compass again and made a slight adjustment. The interstate was a bit more to the east, and I angled us that way. Sweat ran down my face and my hands and legs were covered in scratches, but I didn’t dare slow.

  The cops back there may have been fat and slow, but it wouldn’t take them long to get back involved.

  The growing sound of traffic on the interstate was like music to my ears as it began to filter through the underbrush.

  I picked up my pace. Seconds later, the trees and undergrowth thinned and I was on the edge of another embankment that led up to the road directly under the interstate. I crouched for ten seconds.

  No sirens yet. Which meant it was now or never. I bolted up the slope and looked down one direction of the road and then the other.

  No Simon. “Son of a bitch.” I bit the words out and hiked my pack on my shoulders a little higher. Even if I could get a disguise going for me, Abe wasn’t going to be able to go incognito.

  I started toward the onramp to the interstate. My best bet would be to get up there and see if I could get a trucker to pick me up.

  If I ever ran into Simon again, I was going to kill him.

  I broke into a jog, even while I slid a leash back onto Abe. “Let’s move, buddy.”

  He gave me a woof and paced himself beside me.

  Halfway up the onramp, the sound of an engine behind us slowed me. A dark blue sedan flicked its lights, then slowed as it drew close. The side window rolled down and Simon leaned over.

  “Not very patient, are you?”

  I yanked the back door open and let Abe and myself in.

  “Move,” I said. “This is only going to buy us long enough to get to the next town if we are lucky.”

  “Already on it, darling.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “I think not.”

  Simon laughed and got the car going again. I leaned back in my seat. “Wake me if you need me.”

  I closed my eyes, Simon flicked on the radio to a local station and I pretended to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  We drove across country in a little under two days, switching off with each other enough that we never stopped for more than taking care of the necessities of life. Eating and shitting. Changing vehicles twice more.

  The plan we developed as we drove was simple. We knew the name of the business my father was operating under. We knew it was going to be some illegal magic shit just based on the amount of money coming through. Blue Hills Studios was a brand-new movie studio that was already making three to five million a month with no movies to its name that we could find.

  Simon assured me this was what he was good at, that he could find it in no time.

  We would go in, strip the business of its goods, take the money we found, and leave a nice note for Romano so he knew exactly who to blame.

  Me.

  A part of my brain pointed out that it was suicide. That the Stick Man would find me.

  A form of bringing the heat down on me that eventually I wouldn’t be able to outrun.

  I didn’t care. Even when Simon pointed out the same thing. “You realize if you tell him it was you again, he’ll send all he’s got at you? Possibly all three guardians.”

  “Yes,” I nodded, my heart rate spiking at the thought, “I’m counting on it. I have to kill the guardians at some point; might as well bring them to me.”

  “You got bigger balls than me,” he mumbled. I almost smiled.

  We were getting close to LA but still hadn’t nailed down the details of the plan. Mostly because as far as we could tell, Blue Hills Studio didn’t exist except in name.

  Simon tapped his phone. “Website is here, but it goes nowhere. Doesn’t even link to projects they are working on. No address either.”

  “In other words, they aren’t trying that hard to prove they are legit.”

  He grunted. “Yeah, they got nothing like that.”

  “Any pictures of the place?” I glanced at him. If we could get a layout that would help.

  “Nothing.”

  I frowned. “How the fuck is the IRS not all over them?”

  “Bought off. It happens, though no one talks about it.” He leaned back. “Romano has got to have at least three people under his thumb in the IRS. I’ve seen it before with Mancini. Abnormals who can make paperwork disappear.”

  That got him a longer look from me. “How long have you worked for Mancini?”

  “Only here and there.” He stared at the tiny screen as he shook his head. “I’m a freelancer, like you.”

  “I’m not a freelancer,” I said.

  “Maybe you weren’t, but you are now. What else are you going to do? Finish this job and go play with your ponies again?”

  His words cut through some of my own thoughts. I wasn’t going to try for a normal life again; that was beyond stupid. Which left me this—a life I’d run from.

  “I don’t know.”

  I think my honesty surprised us both because neither of us spoke for the next hour.

  Finally, I broke the silence. “I need to stretch my legs.” We were on the outskirts of LA and I knew traffic was about to pick up. More than that, though, something niggled at the back of my mind.

  LA was Noah’s home base, or as much of a home base as he had.

  Noah had been in on whatever Justin had been dealing with, and he had info on Romano.

  I stretched as I walked around the car, thinking. I kept my head down and a ball cap pulled low to shade my eyes from the bright sun as I searched through what I knew, looking for the answer that dodged me.

  I pulled my cell phone out and dialed Noah’s home number. It clicked through to his answering machine. “Noah, here, leave me your details and I’ll get back to you asap.”

  Asap. Who the fuck said that anymore. I waited for the beep and then took a long breath I knew would pick up on the machine. “Noah. You lit my house on fire, you bastard. You have info on Romano I want and now you owe me.” I paused and thought about what would bring him to me. “I don’t have the coded papers, but I know who does.” I clicked the end button.

  Hell, I hadn’t even left him a number to reach me, but I didn’t think that would matter. Noah would find me if the papers meant anything.

  Abe sniffed around the edges of the pull-out, but didn’t go far, his eyes always coming back to me, to check on me.

  I snapped my fingers at him, then let us both back into the current rental vehicle, a crappy older van that smelled vaguely of vomit. The only good thing was all the room in the back for Abe.

  Simon climbed into the driver’s seat, put his hands on the steering wheel and waited.

  “I have a place we can start,” I said.

  He smiled. “See, I knew you were more than a pretty face.”

  I ignored him. The whole trip had been like that with him complimenting me and making flirtatious remarks. I knew men like Simon. Men who, whether they were abnormal or not, thought I would be flattered by a nice word or two, that I would let my guard down because they were charming. I didn’t dissuade him of the idea, but let him continue thinking he was winning me over. I knew his game.

  He had no idea how deep mine was being played.

  Nor was I such a fool as to believe he had any actual interest in me. Men who worked in the circles of hell we lived in did not have women they took home. They had women they fucked once and left.

  I nodded more to myself than to him. “Head to Lincoln
Heights. There were a few apartments where the landlords don’t ask a lot of questions and it’s close to the 10.”

  Simon tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I know the area. Smart to be close to the highway if we have to run.” He flashed me a smile, and I looked away.

  I’d let him drive while I tried to straighten out what was running through my head. Would Romano realize I was coming here first? If he was smart, he’d try to see if he could figure out what files I’d taken from the office. Try to figure out where I would go next. And if he had someone working for him now, taking my place, they might already be onto us. Who was I kidding? He had three guardians that were hunters in their own right.

  He’d stopped needing me the second they’d come online with him.

  “Is it true that Romano made a deal with the devil?” Simon asked as he navigated traffic as well as one could here in LA.

  “Yes.”

  “Nothing more than that, just yes? Come on, Phoenix, give me the dirt.”

  I looked out the window while I found the words. Because I’d been there when the deal was signed, the scene so impressed on me that I doubted I would ever forget it.

  “He had a dealer in death magic use some ancient texts to call up the devil into his office.”

  “Like as in Lucifer?” Simon asked.

  I shrugged. “He called himself Bazixal. A demon, a kind of devil. He offered my father steadily growing power and money for as long as he lived. The cost was simple. A soul that would be given at the end of my father’s life.”

  “Shit. That seems a high cost.”

  I had to agree. Until that moment in my life, I wasn’t sure I believed in souls, because if I had, I knew mine would be black. “He signed the paper in his blood. Bazixal gave Romano a mark on the inside of his wrist, and it was sealed.”

  Simon let out a long, low whistle that made Abe perk up in the back. “Your father’s soul for money and power.”

  “My father did not offer his own soul. He offered a soul.” I shook my head. It had not been Romano’s name on the paper, that was all I knew.

  “Happy?” I asked.

  Simon shook his head. “Not really. The three guardians he was given?”

  “A second deal around the time I stepped out. I wasn’t there for it. The Stick Man, the Shadow, and the Strike. In that order of dangerousness.”

  “And they are immortal so they can’t be killed.” He shook his head.

  I didn’t tell him what Rose had said to me, that blood fire would kill the Stick Man. Because he was the only abnormal around me, and my reputation was such that he would likely think I kept him around to use his blood to save me. And that wouldn’t necessarily be incorrect.

  Minutes later, we were in the Lincoln Heights area. Simon pulled into a small parking lot attached to an Oriental grocery store, Pho Bong, and we both got out. Abe, too, as it was far too hot to leave him in the car even with the windows rolled down. Early May and already Hollywood was warm enough for T-shirts. Even though those who lived here were still bundled in coats and pants.

  As always Abe stuck close to me. He didn’t need the leash but the law was the law, and the last thing we needed was some beat cop asking questions about us.

  The apartment we procured was small, one bedroom with a single bed. I lifted an eyebrow at Simon, but kept my thoughts to myself. From the banter between him and the owner—all in Mandarin—there had been a two-bedroom rental available too, but Simon had declined.

  We tossed our small number of belongings into the room.

  “Okay, let’s nail down this plan then, shall we? Bits and pieces is all well and good, but I’d like to keep my skin attached if possible.” Simon leaned against the door with his arms folded over his chest. His facial hair had grown in over the two-day drive and it made him a far more interesting looking person. Less of the unobtrusive blend into the world face he had first presented to me.

  I arched an eyebrow. “We have a break-in to plan and a studio to find. I think I have a guy who can get me the info and tools we need to accomplish both.”

  Simon pushed off the wall.

  “You need me to come with you?”

  I snorted at him and held up the list we’d made. “Got my grocery list.”

  He paused after he opened the door, and looked over his shoulder. There was something in his eyes, and I held up my hand, stopping him.

  “No. Don’t go there. We aren’t those kinds of friends. We meet back here. If you don’t show up, I’ll assume you’re either dead, or turned on me.”

  He winked at me. “We may not be that kind of friends yet, Nix. Give me time, I’ll win you over.”

  Before I could tell him to go fuck himself, he shut the door behind him and was gone to take the car back to the rental place.

  I put him from my mind in seconds.

  The thing was, covering your tracks was never as simple as the movies made it look. Nor nearly as glamorous. Things like returning a vehicle to a rental place, rather than blowing it up, or some shit like that. A returned rental was never suspected. It was only the missing ones the police tracked down.

  “Head on straight, Nix,” I said to myself.

  From my stash of things, I tugged out a wad of cash, a little over ten thousand dollars, and stuffed it into a cheap-looking purse. Small enough to not carry anything important. I glanced over the list.

  Cameras, tablet, two USB storage drives, wireless hookups, night vision goggles, detonators, C4, a couple of GPS tracers, and a few things I hadn’t used before, being that they were on the magical spectrum. Simon insisted on them.

  Gag jam, spider’s bolt, bit boom, smarm, and blinding. The words were weird and they made me uncomfortable just looking at them.

  Didn’t matter, I knew where to get it all, hot off the market, as it were.

  Barron wouldn’t be expecting me. I just hoped he was still where I’d last seen him. Knowing him, as long as he wasn’t dead, he wouldn’t have moved. Lazy didn’t even begin to cover the man.

  I settled Abe in the room with water and an open window, told him to guard, and put a note on the outside of the door for Simon saying if he went in without me, Abe would eat his balls.

  Smiling to myself, I was out of the building in minutes and off to my next stop.

  Los Angeles was hardly my home turf, but I’d been sent to the West Coast more than a few times for jobs. During those trips, I’d met people who could be key in making things happen.

  The best part about Barron was that—if he was still alive—he wouldn’t ask questions like “What do you need this high-end, night-vision camera for? Why do you need this much C4 wiring? Are you trying to blow shit up? What kind of magic shit is this?” Those were the kind of questions we needed to avoid.

  I flagged a cab and directed the driver to the higher-end side of town where Barron had set up his home and shop loaded with smart people, and smarter thieves. He’d bought a house on the dividing line between Brentwood and Encino.

  The cabbie was happy to take me as it was an hour drive and easily a hundred-dollar fare.

  “Visiting Hollywood for the first time?” He looked in the rearview mirror.

  I didn’t answer him, just stared out the window.

  He tried once more and when I didn’t answer, he gave up.

  The hour passed slowly.

  “That gate there.” I pointed out my destination to the cabbie and he dutifully pulled over. There was no number on the gate, no name.

  “Want me to wait?” The cabbie arched an eyebrow at me.

  I handed him his money and got out.

  He muttered under his breath, then left me there with a squeal of his tires. I stood in front of the gate, wondering if Barron still lived here. He had been an interesting one. A little older than me, he was quiet, thoughtful, and far too polite for being a thief. At least, that was what I’d always thought.

  I hit the call button on the gate, buzzing through.

  “NO VISITORS,” a voice
roared through the speakers, rattling it until the words were nearly indistinguishable from each other.

  I pressed the button again. And again, and again. Best way to get a bee to come out of the hive was to keep poking at the nest.

  “FUCKING LITTLE SHITS, GET AWAY FROM MY HOUSE!” It sounded like Barron. Though, I didn’t remember him being such a spaz.

  “Barron, is that any way to talk to a friend?” I spoke clearly, and just loud enough to be heard.

  There was a static silence for a solid twenty seconds before he answered.

  “Who is this?”

  “You can’t see me?” I turned to wave at the small camera tucked into the top of the twelve-foot gate. Small enough that if you weren’t looking for it, you’d miss it.

  “Holy shit. Phoenix?”

  The gate buzzed open and swung inward. I started up the long drive, the heels of my boots a soft patter on the concrete.

  The walk to the front door of the mansion was short, and yet . . . I felt like I’d stepped back in time. Like I was twenty years old again, and ready to run from my family.

  Barron had been key in helping me escape, and at the time, I’d thought he was going with me. Stupid fool that I’d been.

  He flung the door open before I could even knock.

  Not smart. He’d lost some of his edge since I’d seen him last.

  “I thought you were dead.” He looked me over, his eyes wide.

  I gave him the same once-over. Tall and thin, his dark hair had gone from the slightly messy unkempt surfer locks to a full-on long shag with some gray at the temples. It didn’t look good on him.

  He’d filled out some, living on good food and booze; his body had slid into the softness of middle age. Maybe not to anyone else’s eyes, but I could see he was not keeping up with his regimen he’d claimed he had before. There were no more sit-ups before his morning coffee.

  “Not dead yet,” I said. “You still selling?”

  His eyes flickered. “Of course not. Come on in. I’ll put coffee on.”

  “Tea, actually,” I said.