Ashes (The Firebird Trilogy Book 1)

by Stephanie Harbon

  And then it hit me, how the heck did I get outside?

  I suddenly realised that I wasn’t alone. Off to my right were the two bikers and their friends from earlier. It was the green-eyed biker who captured my attention immediately. He stared at me for a long moment, scrutinising my face as if he were searching for something. Then his eyes met mine and an overwhelming shudder of –something-passed over me; almost recognition but more complex. One word flooded into my mind; enemy.

  He opened his mouth but the older biker with black eyes cut him off.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he warned severely.

  The green-eyed biker shot him a significant, dirty look. “Go home, brother.” he ordered fiercely “Now. Don’t make me count to ten.”

  They stared savagely at each other, ostensibly having a silent conversation. They were brothers? Well, that wasn’t entirely shocking, but it was the way the younger brother seemed to have…authority over the older brother which surprised me. Every ounce of him streamed with unspoken power and danger; definitely danger; that warning light hadn’t yet faded.

  Eventually the older boy spat, “Fine.”

  He stormed off, his shoulders stiff with hostility as he climbed onto his motorbike and sped off without another word. The younger brother stared flatly after him until he disappeared around the corner.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” said the shortest girl. With that, she nudged the other two and all three of them dashed off the way they’d come.

  While this was happening, I shakily tried to stand up.

  The biker turned to me, his face abruptly plastering on an easy-going smile. “I’m Kieran,” he introduced himself, utterly calm, “You need to tell me who the hell you are and what the hell you’re doing here.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my mouth dropping open in astonishment, “What?”

  “You need to tell me who you are, girl,” He enunciated each word with deep condescension.

  My anger ignited like spraying deodorant over a naked flame. “Why should I?” I demanded, “And don’t call me girl, I have a name.” Sexist pig.

  He rolled his eyes, “Hence the point of my questions.” He abruptly changed the subject, “Was that some weird Derren Brown crap in there or what?” He smirked mischievously, “Do you always… well, sing, I guess, here?”

  “No,” I crossed my arms over my chest, “Sometimes on karaoke night. Not that it’s got anything to do with you.” I really didn’t like this guy.

  He leaned against the wall opposite me with a look of quiet indignation, “Let me guess, your mother or father taught you to do that, right?”

  “My mum’s dead.” I snapped. “And I don’t know what you mean.”

  He seemed to consider this, almost curiously, then changed the subject again, “You’re not from round here. Where were you born?”

  “How do you know I’m not from around here?” I blurted thoughtlessly.

  He rolled his eyes impatiently, “I recognise you. I’m not from around here.”

  I recognised him too, though I didn’t know where from. When I was younger I was in a car accident. Apparently I’d hit my head pretty badly and lost most of my memory; I can’t remember anything before I was seven. I might have seen him before then and forgotten until now…?

  Ignoring my silence he continued “How old are you? Seventeen?”

  I stared at him for a moment, then decided to think better of it and began to walk off. I did not have to answer questions from a random stranger. My head spun as I moved and I staggered slightly.

  “Hey!” He reached out and grabbed my wrist and where his skin touched mine sparked burning electricity. “I wouldn’t do that it if were you, Princess.”

  “Don’t touch me,” I snapped, yanking my hand back. “I do Taekwon Do.” It was a lie but he didn’t know that; I could secretly have sweet ninja moves.

  Kieran held his hands up as if in surrender, “Alright, calm down. Most girls want me to touch them…” he shrugged casually, “but okay, whatever.”

  I stared at him blankly for a moment, forgetting I was leaving. “What?”

  “I’m incredibly attractive,” he sighed, “It’s my only true flaw.”

  “How about lack of modesty?” I offered, “Or manners?”

  He looked down at me superiorly from his impressive height. “If I had perfect manners as well as my looks, intelligence and high regard for personal hygiene, I’d be too good to be true. And nobody wants that.”

  “Are you always this annoying?” I wondered.

  “On the contrary,” he answered immediately, “Most people find me perfectly charming, but more about you. Do you burn?” He asked casually.

  The question caught me off guard, “What?”

  “When you touch fire, does it hurt?” he elaborated.

  I just looked at him. This guy was crazy. “Of course I burn, doesn’t everyone?”

  “You haven’t tried, have you? You’ve never actually touched it.”

  I felt completely dumbfounded. “Why would I, if it will burn me?” then I shook my head; what’s this got to do with anything? “What idiot would stick their hand into fire to see if it would hurt?”

  “But you won’t know until you do.” He was staring at me closer, his full lips curving into a knowing smile, “There’s something about fire that’s always intrigued you, but something is stopping you, isn’t it?” He leaned closer, as if trying to understand my features, “It’s in your eyes.”

  “What’s in my eyes?” I demanded, bewildered.

  “Curiosity,” he shrugged casually. He stared down at me with sudden amusement, “You’re scared of me aren’t you?”

  “No,” I lied curtly. “I think you’re crazy.”

  “What are you scared of then? You’re sweating like a pig.” he said it so softly I barely heard the insult. A knowing flicker glinted in his eyes. “That wasn’t supposed to happen in there; was it? When you were singing.”

  I tried to look away from those intense eyes, mumbling “No.”

  “Whatever it is that you did won’t shock me,” his voice was deceitfully soft: like silk. “You can’t deny it; I saw everyone’s reaction. Falling unconscious like that isn’t natural, I know you did something to them.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I stated firmly; having had enough. “And you know what? As much as I’m enjoying this conversation,” I said, now feeling completely agitated, not to mention confused and frightened. “I need to get back to work.”

  “I’ll be around when you want to talk about it,” he said confidently, moving over to his bike. As he climbed on top of it he reached into his pocket.

  “Talk about what?” I demanded but he wasn’t listening.

  He withdrew something from his pocket and threw it at me; I caught it instinctively. “Let me know how it feels,” he smirked, and then revved his engine. The motorbike growled as it raced forwards, disappearing almost instantly.

  I looked down at what he’d thrown; it was a lighter.

  Chapter Two

  I was groggy and dazed as I went to get breakfast the next morning, last night’s bizarre events already long forgotten, grunting when I realised I was out of bread. Like most teenagers, my mannerisms in the morning are similar to a caveman’s. I grumpily got dressed, muttering petulantly about food shopping; then I grudgingly ventured outside to walk my dog. Once I returned I caught the bus to college and spent the most of the day trying furiously to finish my English essay which had been due in a week ago.

  It was a long gruelling day of hard work, especially with my French teacher lecturing me as well. I could read and speak French almost fluently now, but for some reason this irritated my tutor, who thought that I should remain at the same level as the rest of the students rather than advance.

  I’d always had a knack for languages. When I’d hit my head in that car crash and lost my memory I’d forgotten English entirely; though I’d strangely remembered most of my mother’s native
language. You see my mother had been born on a remote Island in the Pacific, where they spoke an old language similar to Latin.

  She’d taught me that beautiful flowing language before she’d taught me English, so perhaps that’s why it was English that I’d had to re-learn. I used to have a slight inherited accent, but Dad had hated it and eventually when she died, so did my accent. My mother’s teachings helped me develop a talent for communication and I’d learnt quickly that once the building blocks of a language are established, the rest comes fairly easily.

  I was sitting in the library when my friends Alex and Katie came to find me.

  “Why are you still in here?” demanded Katie. She’d always been the prettier out of us two, with dyed blonde hair that rippled down past her shoulders and blue eyes like uncut sapphire; we’d been friends for years now.

  Alex was also blonde, but naturally with springing curls that wound around his slightly pointed ears. He was lanky, thin and apparently had fancied me for years, despite my gentle rejections. I had no interest in boys at that moment; I didn’t have the time for them, though for some strange reason quite a few seemed to have time for me. I don’t know why, I’m short and ginger. The only thing I have going for me is my voice.

  “I’m nearly finished,” I said, “Two more pages. Wait for me?”

  As I finished the chapter I was on, the others chattered excitedly about Friday’s party. Every year Alex hosted his notorious bonfire party. It was known for being amazing, with an epic bonfire of dangerous proportions and his rich parents spending hundreds on fireworks. Every year I was invited but never allowed to go. My dad had a serious phobia of fire ever since we’d been in that car crash. Something in the car had exploded and set it alight; we’d nearly suffocated from the fumes. Nowadays he determinedly avoided any situations in which we’d come into contact with fire. He wouldn’t even let me take chemistry because of the practical lessons; not that I’d ever voluntarily take chemistry. All the cookers in our house are electric; we don’t own matches or a single candle and the massive fireplace in our lounge had never been lit. He was extremely particular about me staying in on the most fire-hazardous night of the year.

  Nevertheless Alex asked me again, for the millionth time this week, as we made our way out the building towards the bus stop, “You coming, Ruby?”

  “I’d love to, but you know my dad won’t let me,” I sighed.

  “You should invite the new kid,” Katie suggested.

  “There’s a new kid?” I wondered.

  “Yeah, she’s quite cool, been put in my tutor group. Has a funny accent though; not really sure what it is, maybe Irish,” explained Katie.

  “Good idea,” said Alex, “I’ll go ask her now. Come with me, Katie, if you know her; I don’t want her to think I’m hitting on her.”

  She laughed, “Yet.” She added, “Though I doubt you’d have a shot.”

  “I could get any girl,” he exclaimed, looking hurt.

  Kate glanced at me ironically, and then smiled, “You coming?”

  “Nah,” I replied, “I better get back.”

  “Okay, see you later then,” they both waved as I waited for the bus.

  Once I arrived home my fearsome German Shepherd whacked his tail excitedly on the floor, indicating that it was time for a walk. I sighed, smiling at his predictability; then grabbed his lead. I took my usual route through the forest behind my house, following the path I’d made over the years. The trees surrounded me protectively, their ancient branches dancing and swaying in the breeze, crisp leaves rustling. Sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy above, creating a lush atmosphere of green. Finally I discovered my river.

  Cautiously climbing over polished boulders, I settled on a rock at the edge of the gushing water. The menacing roar of the distant waterfall sounded in my sensitive ears; sometimes I trekked up the hill to see it, but not today.

  The water was crystal clear as it swept past; lively waves and ripples sparkling as if they carried a thousand floating diamonds. In the fathomable water beneath my feet, fish darted mercurially along the riverbed and frogs camouflaged themselves in slimy greenery. Dragonfly’s electric-blue wings contrasted with the dull reeds underneath a draping willow tree; casting long mysterious shadows over the reflective water.

  Abruptly I heard a loud crack. Max started barking frantically, dashing off into the trees. What just happened? I shouted, chasing after him, but before he returned, I stumbled onto a large clearing.

  I stopped so sharply I nearly fell over.

  There, in the centre of the field, was a man. Not just an ordinary man, this was one of the dark bikers from last night, and he was throwing knives randomly into the air. Knives, he was throwing Knives.

  Max bolted towards him and before I could grab him back, the man noticed. He strode angrily towards me, still carrying one of the knives. The sharply curved blade, no larger than eight inches, gleamed in the sunlight.

  Then my senses kicked in.

  “What are you doing here!” thundered the man, who I now realised was the eldest biker I’d seen yesterday. I flinched back instinctively. He was close, just a foot or so away. Max snarled at him, protectively baring his sharp teeth.

  Those intimidating black eyes barely glanced at Max. My heart was beating erratically as I consumed his glaring expression, the menacing bands of muscle, and the pulsating artery in his neck. He was built larger than any rugby player, towering over my fragile frame like a lighthouse over the sea. I edged backwards cowardly, my throat binding together, thinking he was going to use that blade to make me into a kebab.

  “Calm down Adrian,” cautioned a lazy voice from behind me. I whirled around, stunned. Kieran’s flawless lips slowly stretched into an arrogant smirk, “Oh, look who it is. Had a play with my lighter yet, Princess?”

  “You gave her a lighter?” Adrian whirled on Kieran with a thunderous look. As he drew in a sharp breath he said, “You really are asking for it.”

  “Why are you here?” I demanded, confused, “Are you following me?”

  Kieran snorted with conceited laughter, “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m way out of your league. If anything, you must be following me.”

  “So what are you doing here?” I asked incredulously.

  He picked up a long curved blade that was in a bag of weapons beside his ankles. He ran his fingers tentatively along the blade’s edge with a wicked gleam in his eyes,

  “Waiting for a pretty young girl to wander past,” he said, dangerously, winking. “Of course.”

  I stared at him for a moment before deciding he was joking. I think.

  “Is that dog going to try to bite me?” Adrian asked, putting a noticeable emphasis on the word ‘try’ as Max growled defensively.

  I bent down to stroke his furry ears, glad he was there.

  “Nah,” I said. “He’s just an overgrown teddy bear really.” To prove my point Max calmed after I muttered a soothing word.

  “What did you just say?” Kieran asked sharply, shocked.

  I turned my gaze back to him, “I said he’s an overgrown teddy bear really.”

  “No, no, after that,” he waved impatiently.

  My frown deepened, “I didn’t.” I insisted.

  “Yes you did. What did you say to the animal?” he demanded.

  Comprehension hit and I blushed scarlet. “Um, Sungha. I made it up years ago; it seems to calm him down.” I explained, mentally kicking myself. Why did I say that? That word wasn’t even in my mother’s language. It was just a stupid word I remembered from nowhere.

  “You made it up?” Kieran asked slowly, a peculiar note in his voice. “Aren’t you a little old for a secret language?” The brothers shared a meaningful look.

  “Look I have to go,” I muttered, my cheeks flushing. I whistled Max over and walked off awkwardly.

  “There’s no path that way,” Kieran called.

  “I don’t need one,” I called back agitatedly over my shoulder, “my house is a mile pas
t the river.” Great one, Ruby, now they know where you live.

  “There is no river up here,” he argued defiantly.

  Anger flickered like a broken light. “Yes there is,” I contradicted. What was with him? Why did he feel the need to argue about nothing?

  I heard muttering behind me but ignored it as I made my way home. What the hell were they doing there, and with live weapons? I went in my room, instantly rummaging in the pocket of the trousers I wore last night, for the lighter Kieran had given me. In all honesty I’d completely forgotten about it. I knew if Dad discovered I had a lighter in the house he’d go mad so I’d have to hide it. As I sat down on my bed I stared at it. It was a big metal thing with a flipped-back lid and a worn-away inscription on the side.

  I stared at it for a long time, unsure what I was doing. What did I expect? That it’d explode? That if I light it and touch it the fire won’t burn me? Why did Kieran give it me in the first place? This was ridiculous. Why would I be any different to anyone else? Of course I burn. What a stupid question. I put the lighter in my pocket, shaking my head at my own stupidity.

  By the time Dad arrived home that night it was already dark. Outside I heard the intermittent screeches and booms of fireworks. Bonfire night wasn’t for another day but already fireworks were being lit. I watched from my bedroom window, just catching glimpses of them whizzing into the atmosphere in the distance, their bright sparks shattering into innumerable florescent splinters that decorated the night sky like glitter. It was while I stared; longing to get closer to the action, to the beautiful shimmering displays, that I concluded that maybe Dad would’ve changed his mind and would let me go on Friday.

  I’d been allowed to go to a couple of Alex’s parties before and they’d always been amazing fun, despite being very messy; but his bonfire party was known for being great. I really felt like I was missing out.

  So I decided I would actually try to talk to my dad about it. I went downstairs, to where he was slouching on the sofa watching a program on the TV about architecture. I spoke as he glanced up. “Dad,” I tried to sound casual, “Alex is having a party tomorrow which he invited me to; can I go?”