Cry of the Firebird (The Firebird Fairytales Book 1)

by Amy Kuivalainen

  Isabelle looked down at Hamish’s tee shirt. She had been so upset the night before she had washed the pee off her leg and climbed into bed. His scent left on his shirt was now assaulting her. The nightmare continues, she thought bitterly as she pulled it off and dropped it onto the carpet.

  Isabelle couldn’t help but smile when she opened up Harley’s email. It was splashed with her motorcycle shop’s logo and the colours made her eyes ache. Legba’s Ladies was a dominantly women-run motorcycle fabricator workshop and the three men who worked there considered themselves the luckiest men in the world.

  Harley had been born to two motorcycle mechanics in New Orleans. The story went that her father had to deliver her on the shop floor on his favourite Harley Davidson leather jacket.

  She had been christened Harley that night and now she had taken over their business, earning a reputation. Some disgruntled customers had killed her father one night while Harley hid in a metal toolbox. Her mother died soon after drunk and grieving on her bike. Harley had been taken care of by her grandmother who was a well- respected elder in the New Orleans supernatural community.

  At seventeen Harley had managed to kill the men who had murdered her father but what she didn’t know was that they worked for a local Asanbosam. It had arrived at the workshop a few nights later and Harley had been forced to defend herself with the first thing that came to hand, which happened to be a blowtorch, and she had burnt its face clean off. It had disintegrated into dust until only its iron teeth remained. Isabelle had been in New Orleans at the time and after hearing about the kill had tracked Harley down to her parent’s motorcycle shop.

  Isabelle still remembered the first time she laid eyes on the young girl covered in engine grease. She had soft brown skin, black, wavy hair that fell halfway down her back and the most piercing eyes ever created.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked, her full lips giving Isabelle a smile.

  “You can tell me about how you killed that Asanbosam the other night,” Isabelle had replied. The spanner Harley had been holding clanged to the ground.

  “What’s it to you and how the hell do you know about that?”

  “You aren’t the only person in the world who had it in for him.” After that she and Harley had sat down with a couple of beers and talked. Harley had inherited the shop completely on her eighteenth birthday. Her father’s best friend Blue Jay had managed it for her, teaching her everything he knew, and worked there still.

  Harley had made Isabelle her custom motorcycle down in Trajan’s garage. It had all sorts of interesting features hidden from the naked eye like a place for spare knives and silver blades that shot out of the sides of her wheels. Harley had got that idea after watching the chariots in the movie Gladiator. Holy symbols had been stamped into different parts of the frame and Fox had airbrushed a fierce, blonde Valkyrie on the fuel tank. Harley and Fox were the best researchers Isabelle knew and they had never let her down yet. Isabelle scrolled down the page of her email with a sigh.

  Belle,

  BIG trouble! A Nehemoth? What the hell are you into, girl? I know you must be in deep so I will tell you what I know. Basically a Nehemoth is a night spectre or a shadow demon and is Jewish in origin.

  In Exodus God sent the angel of death to kill all of the first born sons in Egypt when Pharaoh refused to let the people of Israel go. These souls were left to roam the earth with no peace because of Pharaoh’s decision. These souls flowed out into the world until one day a man of great power who could see souls, enslaved one to him and turned him into his own personal dealer of death. This was allegedly the first Nehemoth.

  I don’t know who would have enough power to send one after you but it’s a bigger problem than usual. There is no known way to kill them. Your best bet is to try to kill its master. I have a theory though. You know how Moses told the Israelites to take a male, year old lamb and brush their doorposts and lintel with its blood? Maybe this will still work as a protection if not a weapon. It’s only a theory though so don’t hold your breath and don’t go bathing in sheep’s blood.

  I’m worried about you, Belle. Blue Jay has offered to look after the business if you need back up. Call and I will come. I owe you, it’s the least I can do.

  Keep in touch,

  Harley xo

  Isabelle was tempted to ring Harley and tell her to get her butt on the next flight. Harley was like a little sister and one of the few women Isabelle actually liked. This was big trouble though and she didn’t want to bring Harley into it. A soft knock at the door snapped her out of her inner argument.

  “Just a minute,” she called as she found a dressing gown and wrapped it around her. She picked up Hamish’s shirt and stuffed it under a blanket. Isabelle opened the door and found Anya waiting for her. She looked nervous and held two cups of steaming coffee.

  “Everything okay?” Isabelle asked. Anya looked even more tired than usual behind her colourful bruises.

  “I have a favour to ask,” she said and offered one of the cups. Isabelle accepted it gratefully and let her in. Anya made Isabelle uncomfortable. She had a strange aura about her. As if she walked in both worlds at once. She also had an almost ethereal presence and was completely unaware of it. She made Isabelle’s extra senses buzz.

  “Have a seat,” Isabelle offered. Anya sat down at the small table next to Isabelle’s laptop. “What’s this favour?”

  “I would like you and Katya to teach me how to fight.”

  “Anything else?”

  “We only have a month to do it and we only have a few more days left in Paris.”

  “We can teach some of the basics in that time but not much else. Can I ask why? You have a whole houseful of supernaturals to protect you.”

  “I shouldn’t have to rely on other people to fight my battles. I am good with a gun but I can’t rely on always having one either.”

  “That’s very true. How is using your magic going?”

  “I’m starting to control it but I’m worried about it being unreliable when the time comes. Or that I will panic and I won’t be able to defend myself. I only managed to save Trajan because I got really angry and it took over.” Anya fidgeted slightly. “I’m sorry, but you make me really nervous and self-conscious.” Isabelle started laughing and Anya managed a shy smile.

  “Don’t let it worry you, Anya. I have that effect on everyone.”

  “I tend to weird people out as well.”

  “That’s what happens when you’re different.”

  “I know you are reluctant to talk about yourself but what are you? You feel…I don’t know.” Anya struggled to articulate.

  “I am going to let you in on a little secret.”

  “It will be safe with me I promise,” Anya assured quickly.

  “I know it will. You have the look of someone who has kept a lot of secrets over the years. But I will give you a short version of the story.” Very slowly she pulled her hair back and dropped the shoulder of her robe. Anya stared at the fine raking scars decorating the side of Isabelle’s neck and down her shoulder. She swallowed nervously but waited for Isabelle to continue.

  “I was on a hunt for a creature not long after I left Hamish. I wasn’t really sure what I was up against but I tracked it to an orphanage. Turns out it was a demon possessing a little girl. I had never been up against one before; I didn’t know what I was doing. It managed to do this to me,” Isabelle indicated the scars. “It left me for dead. I managed to heal and after that I developed some new abilities. I am a little bit stronger and faster. I can feel evil before I can see it and I can read objects. All skills that have helped me hunt. My scar hurts badly at times and I am sick for a few days but after I am fine.” She didn’t tell Anya about the Illumination turning up or the priest who saved her from the demon. Somethings she just wasn’t ready to talk about. She doubted she ever would be ready to share it.

  “That makes a lot of sense then. I suppose you are in good company here. We are all strange.” Anya s
miled and tried to lighten the situation.

  “You are right there.”

  “How are you coping living with Hamish?” Isabelle raised an eyebrow at her and Anya looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry it’s none of my business.”

  “It’s complicated and we are both angry. I know you mean well but leave it.”

  “I understand. Sometimes it is easier to not talk about certain things because no one will ever understand.”

  Isabelle regarded the woman before her and gave a slight nod. Hamish was definitely labelled too complicated. “When do I start training you in these combat lessons?” Changing the subject was easier for Isabelle than deep and meaningfuls.

  “Today, if we can. I have to speak with the Twins first. I need to know if magic will drain me too much before I work out.”

  “Well, you let me know when you need me.”

  Anya stood and made her way to the door. “For what it’s worth, I am really glad you have decided to help us. And that you have decided to stay even with Hamish here.”

  Isabelle spent the rest of her morning rearranging Trajan’s gym downstairs. She felt relieved to have told Anya a little about herself. Isabelle felt like she could trust her and in a group like this the truth would get out eventually.

  “It’s nice to see someone woke up productive,” Trajan had appeared out of nowhere.

  “Your lady has requested that I teach her to fight so I am obeying her wishes.”

  “By all means; don’t let me stop you.” Isabelle got back to shifting equipment but Trajan didn’t leave.

  “Was there something else you wanted?”

  “I was hoping you had seen Hamish today.”

  Isabelle snorted before she realised he was serious. “He is not in the mansion?”

  “No, I can’t find him anywhere.”

  “We had a fight in the garden last night. I went to bed and figured he did the same,” Isabelle admitted. “Do you think someone has snatched him?”

  “I don’t believe so but I don’t know what would have got to him enough to want to leave the safety of the mansion.”

  Isabelle knew exactly what had got to him. Her. Goddamn it.

  “I have a bad feeling-”

  “Stop worrying, Trajan, I know where he’ll be. I’ll go get him,” she said calmly inwardly cursing whatever god would listen.

  “Thank you Isabelle. Help yourself to any of the cars downstairs. The sooner he is back the better. I don’t want him causing a bar fight somewhere and drawing attention to himself.”

  ***

  Hamish sat on a stool in the newly refurbished Dirty Rose. It was the first place he had met Isabelle about fifty years ago and he had secretly hoped it would have been burnt to the ground.

  “Another?” the bartender asked uncertainly.

  “Yes, no ice.” The boy nodded and didn’t say a thing. He was probably wondering how Hamish was still alive after all the alcohol he had consumed. Hamish loved a 24 hour bar and was making the most of it. He had been drinking steadily for nearly twelve hours.

  Hamish really couldn’t understand why Isabelle was so angry at him. Surely he was the one entitled to be angry. She had left him. All the years he had thought her dead. He had never felt any connection like that with any other woman. He had looked for it and nothing had ever come close.

  The bell chimed on the bar door. A drunken man’s dream made real. In his hallucination she was dressed in tight black jeans, a lacy cream top and a black leather jacket. Her long hair fell in waves over her shoulders and she still had those perfect red lips. The bartender broke his concentration as he placed the rum in front of him. Hamish drank it straight down to clear the illusion away. He couldn’t even get drunk without her ghost haunting him.

  “Hamish,” her warm voice washed over him. Maybe he should stop drinking. Seeing and hearing things are usually a sign to sober up. Nah. “I thought I would find you here,” Isabelle sat down beside him. “Trajan is worried about you. Martini, thank you.” The barman nodded as she placed her keys on the counter. “I can’t believe the old place still stands.” Oh great. She really was there talking to him.

  “Trajan is too wrapped up in the Russian witch to notice if I go out for a drink.”

  “Maybe if you hadn’t been missing for nearly twelve hours it would have been less obvious.” She took her drink from the bartender who blushed when she smiled at him. “This is weird isn’t?” She drank her martini delicately.

  “I don’t know how I ended up here last night. I feel like I am in the twilight zone except you aren’t singing.” She reddened at that, maybe surprised he had remembered. The first night they had met she had climbed up on a table and sang for a bar full of people on a dare. “Do you still sing?”

  “Only in the shower.”

  “I will have to catch your show sometime.”

  Isabelle laughed loudly, nearly choking on her drink. That really surprised him. She had a great, big, filthy laugh. It reminded him of the days when they didn’t hate each other.

  “I assure you the sight isn’t as good as it used to be.” She finished her martini and ordered another one.

  “I saw a bit last night and it looked just fine to me.” Hamish waved his glass at the barman and he refilled it.

  “Except for that extra weight you mentioned. You, however, still look exactly the same. Are you still finding wars and saving the day?”

  “I am back home on a station again. You get tired of killing men. It’s too easy and disheartening anyway. Supernaturals present much more of a challenge these days.”

  “Very true. I think that’s why I’m staying around. Trouble flocks to that witch and it’s going to be a killer of a fight when it comes to a head.”

  “We might even get the chance to die in this fight.”

  “Just for something different.” They both burst out laughing at that. The bartender was looking at the both of them with a perplexed expression which made them laugh more.

  “Make me another, please,” Isabelle had a glow in her cheeks, the first sign of her getting tipsy. It made Hamish smile that she still couldn’t hold her liquor. “We really should get back to the mansion after this round. Trajan is fretting like a mother hen.”

  “I have a better idea, Isabelle. How about we stay here and you can keep on drinking. You are less hostile with vodka in your system.” Hamish gave her a sideways grin over his glass.

  “I am serious, they will send out a search party for us soon.”

  “You will protect me from any bad guys.”

  “What can I do to convince that drunken brain of yours to come with me easily?”

  Hamish rubbed his chin dramatically. Finally he got to his surprisingly steady feet and offered her his hand. “Dance with me.”

  Isabelle frowned at him but despite her annoyance there was mischief in her eyes.

  “Fine. One dance, then we are leaving.”

  The music in the bar hadn’t changed much, still that sweet, nostalgic French jazz. Isabelle took his hand and once again Hamish felt as he had last night. Isabelle placed a hand on his high shoulder. Hamish swallowed and rested his hand on the small of her back. They were both like nervous teenagers on a first date.

  “This seems somewhat familiar,” Isabelle commented as they moved to the music.

  “Why didn’t you come back all those years ago? I know you are different now. You have always been an amazing hunter but you were human then. You aren’t now. You haven’t aged a day since I saw you,” he said softly.

  “I will tell you the whole story one day. It’s the result of something I hunted that got the better of me. I am still mostly human; I can just do things a little differently now. It happened not long after I left you. I was so disgusted and frightened by what was happening as a result of the attack, I couldn’t face you like I was. It has taken me a long time to accept it. I really did think I was protecting you.” They moved slowly to the music, oblivious that the next song had started.

  �
��I was crazy about you, kiddo.”

  “I’m sorry I hurt you. My enemies were closing in and I couldn’t let anything happen to you. You deserved better than that.” They lapsed into a long silence again. Her body moving against his was driving him crazy but not enough to stop.

  “Please say something.”

  He hadn’t realised his silence was hurting her. “It’s okay, I understand.” He finally did.

  “But will you still understand when you’re sober?”

  “Yes. I don’t want to be mad at you and I don’t want you hating me. What we had was rare and we should remember that.”

  “We really should go back now,” Isabelle said as she stepped out of his arms. Hamish fought the urge to grab her and kiss her. “There is more alcohol at the mansion if you want to keep drinking.”

  “Okay mum, I will behave and come quietly.” As Hamish was fixing up his massive tab the barman whispered conspiratorially, “Now I see why you were drinking so hard.” Hamish gave him a large tip.

  “So whose car did you steal?” Hamish stepped out of the bar and onto the bright street.

  “Whoever owns the silver Aston Martin.” Isabelle flashed him a mischievous grin before opening the driver side door.

  “Trajan might try to kill you for taking it,” warned Hamish as he got into the passenger seat.

  “He told me to go find you. I couldn’t put you on the back of my bike; you are too big.” Isabelle put her foot on the gas and they squealed all the way down the road.

  “Do you always drive like this?” Hamish felt his stomach turn with the car.

  “Yes, I am an immortal now so it really isn’t enough to kill me if we crash.”

  “It would hurt like bloody hell though.”

  “I know it does,” Isabelle’s tone was dark. “I tested it.” Hamish didn’t reply. He had been in that head space when he was first cursed. He tried everything but decapitation. When they finally pulled into the driveway Hamish was almost sick on the shiny dashboard. He stepped out of the car on wobbly legs and would have fallen if Isabelle hadn’t caught him by the arm.