by Eliza Nolan
Dark spots invaded my peripheral vision, and I fought to stay upright. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, but it felt like days that I'd worked on Jack. I put all my energy into him, and finally, he stirred. A wave of dizziness overtook me and I fell back into someone's arms. Graham's concerned eyes looked down at me.
I closed my eyes, stealing a moment, and just breathed, until the world finally stopped spinning.
"You okay?" Graham asked when I opened my eyes.
I nodded and massaged my arms, washing away the last hints of pain. "I think so." He helped me sit up and I took in the damage. No one was left except for us and the other Beshi. They were groggy and shaken, but seemed okay. Luke and Samantha had found each other and were comparing battle wounds.
I sighed, relaxing for the first time in what felt like weeks. Graham pulled me onto his lap. He cradled me in his arms as we looked into each other's eyes. He ran his fingers through my hair, and they caught on a tangle. I blushed and we both laughed as I helped him pull his hand free. I must've looked a mess. But I wasn't the only one. Graham was pretty dirty and bruised up himself. And so beautiful.
Graham pressed his forehead against mine. "So, did we win?"
Remembering the rush and sheer amount of power that flooded into me, I knew we'd succeeded. I nodded and pulled my hair back, twisting it around my fingers. "I still don't know exactly what that means, though. I have these powers, and supposedly I could live a really long time."
Graham grinned broadly. "So you're like an immortal?" He raised his eyebrows.
I laughed. "Not exactly."
"But you have super powers." His lips tugged up in a warm smile.
I shrugged. "I guess."
"My superhero." He slid a hand along the back of my neck, the touch sending a tingle down my spine. He pulled me to him and pressed a soft kiss on my lips, slow and tender, then pulled away just enough to look into my eyes.
"You came after me," Graham said.
"Of course," I replied.
He wrapped his other arm around my back, holding me close. I looked into his blue eyes, feeling for the first time in so many weeks that things would be okay.
Dogs barked in the distance invading our peaceful moment. Voices shouted and the brush rustled with sounds of people pushing quickly through the woods towards us. Flashlights shone in our eyes.
"Here they are!" a man shouted. Several police crashed out of the woods.
"We found them," a voice reported as if into a radio. "All eight kids are here. Alive."
Chapter Twenty-One
I squinted against the florescent lights in the police station. The small building was surprisingly quiet for how full it was. Half the officers looked groggy, as if they'd just been called out of bed, the other half scurried around sharing hushed details about what they'd found at the scene.
"Some crazy satanic cult ritual," one guy whispered, loud enough for us to hear. "There was blood everywhere. So much they're still out there looking for bodies." His eyes drifted to us as he said the last part.
I sat on a wooden chair near the front doors with Samantha, Luke, and Graham. Graham, still shirtless, was wrapped in a blanket. I leaned against his side holding his hand and absently wove my fingers between his.
Just across the narrow entryway, Jack and the other three Beshi were crammed onto a small bench facing us. They sat silently, their eyes tired and skin pale. Each slouched under their own blanket, staring at the space between their knees. Their arms were mostly healed, just thin cuts remained. But they were covered in dried blood.
My own hands and arms were covered in it as well. I clasped my mother's necklace tightly in one of my blood-encrusted fists, worried the police would try to take it. They'd already confiscated the Phoenix book as evidence.
I took a deep breath and sighed.
Graham slid a hand under my chin, turning me up to face him. "You're worried about the book."
I nodded.
"We'll figure it out." He stroked my cheek with the pad of his thumb, sending warm tingles through me.
"I hope so," I said. I still had so many questions.
The glass double doors of the station swept open and two cops pushed through with Uncle Connor in handcuffs.
"Dad?" Jack said from his seat on the bench.
My uncle shouted over his shoulder back to Jack. "Don't you say a word to them, Jack. Not a word."
My jaw fell open and I turned to Graham. "My uncle is Jack's father?"
Graham frowned. "If that's your uncle, then yeah."
I hid my face in Graham's shoulder. "I suppose that makes sense. Jack's dad, aka my uncle, somehow must've known who my mom was this whole time."
The glass doors opened again.
"Dad?" I said, jumping out of my seat in surprise.
He looked exhausted, yet alert somehow. When he saw me, he stopped short and smiled while his eyes pooled with tears.
"Julia, thank God." He rushed to me and pulled me into a tight hug, squeezing all the air out of me.
"Dad," I gasped.
"Sorry." He loosened his grip, but didn't let go. "I'm so glad you're okay. You are in so much trouble, Julia, you don't even know," he said all in one breath.
I hugged him back, relief washing over me. It was surprising how good it felt to have him here. "I think I do know, Dad. I'm sorry."
We held the hug for a long moment before he released me.
"Hey, Dad. The police only just found us. How are you already down here?" I asked.
"When the FBI said your phone was used in Charleston, I was on the next flight. I knew they were looking for Graham, but I wanted to make sure all the bases were covered in the off chance this had something to do with my brother. I thought I was done worrying about him after so long, but I couldn't stop this nagging feeling, so I had to check it out. I was camped out at his home, waiting for him to turn up. Which he finally just did." Dad massaged his fist.
"Oh my God, Dad. Did you punch him?"
His eyes darted to the far side of the precinct where his brother had been taken. "Someone had to make sure he was still there when the cops came."
Dad punching someone? That was an image I just couldn't conjure. He'd never fought a day in his life, as far as I knew. The anger in his eyes as he looked after his younger brother, however, suggested he'd been waiting to do that for a long time.
"Mr. Drake," a detective called from across the room.
"Just a second," Dad said.
"Dad, Mr. Drake? Is that you?" I asked.
"It was. In order to get the FBI looking for you, I had to make a case. I told them the whole story about who I really am, and why your mother and I ran all those years ago." He messed up my hair. "There are going to be a lot of questions now, Julia. Just tell them the truth."
I looked past him to a cluster of officers close by, then hooked my arm through his and pulled him away towards the door. "What about Mom?" I asked, my voice hushed.
Dad nodded. "I told them about your mom and how she left us all those years ago."
I shook my head. "No." I leaned in closer. "I mean what about the Phoenix, and…" I opened my fist to show him Mom's necklace. "I can't just tell the police about this stuff."
He looked at me sideways. "Your mother's necklace?"
"No, Dad," I whispered. "The Phoenix."
He stared at me, blinking.
I searched his face. Nope, no idea what I was talking about. How could he not have known who Mom was, and who I am?
I wanted to tell him. I wanted him to know what I was capable of, and he deserved to know why Mom had really left us. But his eyes were tired and I could see the stress in the lines on his forehead. He was so far past his breaking point, there was no way I could throw something like this at him right now.
"Never mind." I sighed. He wouldn't believe me if I told him anyway. I still hardly believed it myself.
"Mr. Drake." The detective was insistent.
Dad took my hand and gave it a
squeeze, then headed off towards the detective. "At least this is all over now," he said over his shoulder. "Once everything is settled with the authorities, we can all go home." He smirked. "And then, you are grounded."
Dad followed the detective into a back room and they closed the door.
I stood, looking at the doorway where my father had disappeared. Graham's hand folded around mine. "Your dad's right, you know? It's over." He kissed the top of my head. "You stopped them."
The scratchy blanket he wore brushed my arm and as I looked down, I caught a flash of blue in the corner of my eye.
"Wait," I said, pulling the blanket up to expose his bicep. I took in a sharp breath. "What does it mean?"
We both stared at his tattoo.
"I don't know," he said.
I traced a finger over the phoenix on his arm, now the color of deep blue sky.
"We gotta get that book."
End Book One
From the Ashes (The Phoenix Book II): https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XYZLXH8
For deals and publishing news join my mailing list: http://www.elizanolan.com/p/mailing-list_30.html
Information on The Phoenix series is available here: http://www.elizanolan.com/p/thephoenix.html
Acknowledgements
As this is my first work, the list of teachers, supporters, critique partners, and betas is long. I'll try to be brief without missing anyone, but that doesn't seem possible.
I'd like to start by thanking the wonderful community of writers on the internet. The support and knowledge I gained there is incredible.
Thanks to Mom and my brother, Jon - my very first beta readers and strongest supporters. Without your constructive help and support, this story wouldn't be what it is.
The support of my writing groups over the years - first Minnesota Lakers, then MNYA Writers - has been paramount in learning to plot, and hone my craft. Specifically I would like to call out Ryann, Kari, Sara, Dawn, Reesha, Nikki, Kitty, Monica, Jonathan, Ali, Lisa, Jean, Alex, Lynn, Kara, Sarah, Kristin, Emma, Jim, and Jody.
I need to call out Kendall Ryan. Not only was she an early supporter of this work, but she's also a great writing friend and without her help navigating the publishing world, I would be lost.
I would like to thank my friend Heather for not only beta reading, but also hooking me up with Dumpy. And I absolutely need to thank Dumpy for lending his vast expertise on train hopping. Some things you can read about, but without Dumpy, there would have been no Hot Shot and no Juice Train.
Duffy Littlejohn, author of Hopping Freight Trains in America, your book is a wonderful resource for anyone who wants to learn about train hopping without getting dirty. Thank you for sharing your knowledge with the world.
To my editor, Kate. You are amazing! I learned so much working with you, and you really helped my story shine. Thank you.
My many friends who've sat and listened to me drone on and on about all my imaginary friends and their plight.
Finally, I would like to thank readers everywhere. Thank you so much for letting me share my story with you!
About the Author
Eliza Nolan was born and raised in Minneapolis, Minnesota. She lived in Charleston, South Carolina, for a few years, after which she returned to icy Minnesota - where she now lives with her two unruly cats in a house smaller than your closet.
She is an avid reader and writer of YA who has ghostwritten a novel or two, but also writes her own stuff.
Connect With Me
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ElizaNolanPants
Twitter: https://twitter.com/elizanolanpants
Website: http://elizanolan.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/ElizaNolan
