Phoenix King

by Miranda Martin

  I ignored him as I shrugged my jacked off, wincing as it slid against the cut on my upper arm. I was wearing a short-sleeve shirt underneath the jacket. The shuriken had sliced just under the edge of the sleeve. It was bleeding sluggishly. I used the lining of my jacket to wipe off the blood so I could see the wound better.

  The man next to me inched away, squeezing over to the window on his side. It was probably the blood. Great. More room for me. People gave me a few odd looks, but I ignored them too as I angled my arm, trying to decide if it needed stitches. Hmm. Probably not. I'd just stick a bandage on it when I got home.

  Everyone gave me a wide berth for the rest of the trip. I noted it for the future. Being stinky or having a bleeding wound gave me personal space in a crowd. That was valuable information.

  The trolley came to a stop and I stood up. People in my path immediately backed away to give me room to walk through.

  "Thanks," I said brightly as I got off the trolley, completely for my own amusement. "I appreciate the courtesy."

  Now they really didn't know what to do.

  My smile faded as I started walking towards my place. The running hadn't helped my knee much. It needed to be rested, but every time it started to feel better, I had to run for my life again.

  I got to my building and limped my way up the stairs to my floor, muttering to myself.

  I reached the landing right as Jacob came out of his apartment next door. Did he have a security camera planted around here or something? He turned to me, his mouth opening to greet me, but then snapping shut again as he took me in. His eyes were on my face.

  "What happened to your cheek?" he demanded, his voice low.

  "My cheek?" I repeated, bringing my hand up to my right cheek, the one his eyes were focused on. Even as I made the movement, I felt the sting of a scrape.

  Damn it.

  Why was it that it always hurt only after I thought about whatever the injury was? I probably got it when I was barreling through those alleys.

  Jacob's mouth was pressed into a grim line as his attention went to my arm next.

  "Yes, your cheek. And your fucking arm, Mia. What happened?"

  I sighed as I limped past him to my door. I didn't have the energy to field this right now.

  "I went on a job and . . . it didn't go great," I said, opening the door.

  He followed me inside, right on my heels. "It seems like a lot of your jobs aren't going great lately," he pointed out, his eyes laser focused on me.

  He was right.

  I looked away, unable to maintain eye contact.

  "That's what happened," I said.

  I knew if I told him it was the same people, or if I told him about the email, he was going to give me a hard time about taking any jobs for the moment. But I needed to take them. It really rubbed me the wrong way to think that they had so much power over me that I would stop working because of them.

  Whoever they were.

  An awkward pause as Jacob waited for more information.

  And I didn't give it.

  "All right," he finally said, disappointment clear in his voice. "You need to get that arm looked at."

  "It's shallow. I think I can just bandage it."

  He walked over to me and gripped my arm by the elbow, turning it so he could look at the cut better.

  "You have a first aid kit?" he asked, his face neutral now.

  "Yes," I said, relieved to have something to do. I went to the bathroom to get the kit and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

  Yikes.

  No wonder the people on the trolley reacted like they did.

  Jacob showed up behind me, leaning against the doorframe.

  My cheek was scraped across the top of my cheekbone in a painful red patch—I still didn't know how—and I looked too pale, with dark circles under my eyes. With the addition of my bleeding arm and my limp, I didn't look so hot. Sighing, I got the kit from the cabinet under the sink and brought it out to the living room.

  Jacob moved back to let me pass and followed me back out. He pulled me over to the kitchen sink and cleaned out the wound, bandaging me up expertly.

  "You're good at this," I observed.

  He gave me an unreadable look.

  "I've had jobs that didn't go so great too," he said quietly. "I've had plenty of practice." He stepped back. "Okay," he finally said. "I have to go to work. Let me know . . . let me know if you need anything. All right?"

  "I will. And thanks, Jacob," I said. "I really appreciate it." I squeezed his arm, meeting his eyes. "Really."

  He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then decided against it, shaking his head.

  "I'll see you later," he said, turning to leave.

  I was sure that wasn't what he really wanted to say, but I walked him to the door and closed it behind him, too drained to ask him what he was holding back.

  I felt terrible.

  Physically, yes, but also for keeping this from Jacob when he was always there for me. But it wasn't his problem. I needed to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

  I fired up the smaller computer I kept in my apartment and opened up my work email with the intention of reading that first anonymous message again.

  But there was a new email at the very top, the bold letters glaring at me.

  From an anonymous source. I felt my stomach tighten as I saw it. I had to know though.

  Bracing myself, I clicked on it.

  Be careful—there's something planned for today.

  Sorry about not warning you earlier. I only just found out.

  The time stamp read just before I would have been getting to the hotel. I rolled my eyes. That was helpful. I needed to know who this was. That information would lead me right to who was behind all of these attacks. And I needed to know.

  I didn't know if I'd survive another one of these encounters if I was honest with myself. I'd been lucky so far. And you couldn't rely on luck forever.

  I clicked reply.

  Who is this?

  I stared at the question for a moment, at the blinking cursor next to the short three words. This could alienate the sender, cut off my source of information, such as it was. But I needed to try.

  I clicked send.

  And hoped I hadn't made a mistake.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was time to pick Omari up from school again. I put on a different jacket. I couldn't wear the other one until I had a chance to clean it and patch the hole in the sleeve. I especially couldn't wear it to the school. Life was being hard on my clothes.

  I got on the trolley. I still got a few looks for the scrape on my face, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before.

  Jumping off near the school, I walked over to the pickup area. As I wove in and out of the groups of parents waiting for their kids to come out, I caught more than a few looks there too. This time, they were kind of pitying. I felt the urge to make an announcement that I was hurt in the course of my job, not because I let some loser lay hands on me, but I didn't want to draw even more attention.

  I met the same blond woman's eyes who'd asked about Jacob before. She quickly looked away, back at the petite woman she'd been talking to. This was awkward.

  At least I didn't have to wait long before Omari's class came out in an organized stream. I searched through the line of tiny people and found his familiar backpack towards the end. He frowned as he saw me, his eyes going immediately to my face as he veered over to me.

  "What happened to your face?" he demanded. Loudly, I might add.

  I resisted the urge to glance around to see who was watching. Realistically, I knew anyone in the vicinity was looking.

  "There was a mishap at work," I said quietly, bending down. "I'm fine—it's just a scrape. See?"

  He scowled. "I thought you were just a mailman," he accused. "Why are you getting hurt so much?"

  That was a good question. But I couldn't have this conversation with him here, right now.

  "Why don't w
e go home and—"

  "Ms. Hill?"

  It took me a moment to respond to the call of my name. I wasn't used to being called Ms. Hill.

  "Yes?" I said, turning to see it was Ms. Nguyen, Omari's teacher. This couldn't be good. Her eyes lingered on the scrape on my cheek as well, but she gave me a professional smile, ignoring the mark. I liked her already.

  "I would like a moment to speak with you, if you have the time?"

  I glanced down at Omari, but he was looking down at his feet, scuffing the pavement with one shoe. Looking as guilty as possible.

  "Yeah, sure," I said slowly. "I have time. Lead the way."

  She nodded and turned to go back the way they'd just come from. Omari fell into step next to me and we both followed his teacher into the school building. What could this be about? Omari wasn't the type of kid I was worried about getting in trouble in school. He was a sweet kid at heart.

  I stepped into the classroom after Ms. Nguyen, feeling almost like I was the one in trouble. She shut the door behind us and moved to lean against her desk, crossing her arms across the pale pink cardigan set she was wearing today.

  "What's going on?" I asked, Omari silent by my side.

  She sighed.

  "Omari is a bright child, usually very sweet and considerate." She paused. That was a prelude to bad news if I'd ever heard it. "However, he has been getting into fights with some of the other boys lately, and I don't know why. When I ask him what the problem is, he won't tell me."

  Her eyes moved to watch Omari, who was doing his best not to look at either one of us.

  "How many fights?" I asked, completely blindsided by this. I would have sworn Omari would never hurt a fly. He didn't have a mean bone in his body.

  "There have been two incidents. Neither party was injured, but this isn't a pattern that I want to see continue, so I thought I'd talk to you about it."

  "I see." I glanced down at Omari.

  The stubborn thrust of his chin let me know he probably wasn't going to open up here, in front of his teacher.

  "I'll talk to him," I said firmly. "It won't happen again."

  "I simply wanted to make you aware of the situation. There haven't been any parental complaints as of yet, but it would only be a matter of time if this continues," she warned. "And if Omari is deemed a danger to his classmates, he'll have to be separated."

  "I understand. Thank you for letting me know."

  "Of course. Thank you for meeting with me. And I'll see you tomorrow, okay Omari?"

  "Bye Ms. Nguyen," he said quietly, too subdued for his normal bubbly personality.

  "Goodbye."

  I said goodbye too and led Omari out of the class.

  I didn't say anything until we were well away from the school, opting to walk rather than take the trolley. I knew it was easier for me to talk while I was doing something else. Maybe that would be true for Omari too.

  "Why have you been fighting, Omari?" I asked as we maneuvered through the crowd. "Are the other kids being mean to you?"

  It was the only provocation I could think of. Omari got along with basically everyone. Unlike his sister.

  "No," he said. "They just . . ." He trailed off, biting his lip.

  "They what?" I prodded, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to protect him from the adults on either side.

  "They were saying mean things about phoenixes. And dragons," he blurted out, looking up at me with big eyes. "Really mean things, Mia."

  I felt my stomach sink. This wasn't something we could discuss on the street.

  "I'm going to drop by the office. We'll talk about this when we get there, okay?"

  "Okay."

  Opting to hop onto a trolley for part of the rest of the way, we walked the last bit again. I racked my brain for a good way to approach this. Once we were in my office, I leaned back against the desk and gestured for Omari to sit in the seat in front of me.

  "Am I in trouble?" he asked, his chin trembling a little bit, but then firming up again. "Are you going to send me back to Father?"

  I felt my heart break.

  I would never send him back there to that man. The same man who thought deliberately getting his own child sun-sick was a good plan to lure his estranged child.

  That sociopath was never laying eyes on Omari again.

  "Of course not," I said fiercely, crouching down to give him a tight hug. "I love you and you're staying with me. Whether you like it or not. All right?"

  His arms wrapped tight around me. "Promise?" he asked in a small voice.

  "I promise." I squeezed him again. When his arms loosened a bit, I pulled back so I could see his face. "Now. What were the other kids saying?"

  He swallowed.

  "They said that phoenixes and dragons are animals. That they aren't people and that they're terrible and violent. And that's why they aren't allowed into the city domes." He let out a huff of breath, anger lighting his eyes. I was glad to see it rather than the sadness and hurt. "We aren't animals, Mia! Why would they say that?"

  I sighed. I'd heard this kind of talk my whole life, but it had been different for me—I'd never known anything else. It was second nature for me to brush off that kind of talk, to keep myself somewhat separated. To keep my heritage a secret.

  But it wasn't second nature to Omari. He'd grown up in phoenix territory, not around humans in a city dome. He hadn't encountered the racism against us before, not like this.

  "Because they're ignorant," I said, trying to make him understand. "When the war between the phoenixes and dragons happened, it hurt a lot of humans," I explained. "The reason why they say things like that is because they're afraid of us and what we can do, because they can't change forms at all. And, because we now live separately, they don't meet a lot of us and don't realize that we're just people too. Does that make sense?"

  "We hurt them?" he asked, his face worried. "Why would we do that?"

  I didn't want to have to explain to him that sometimes people just got hurt for no reason. Or that sometimes war happened for no good one.

  "It wasn't on purpose," I said instead. "In wars, people get hurt. That's why it's good to avoid them as much as we can."

  He was silent a moment, frowning.

  "Like fighting?" he asked.

  I smiled a little.

  "Yes, like fighting. You don't want to hurt anyone, right?"

  "I guess not," he sighed. "But what if they're being buttheads?"

  I suppressed a laugh.

  Barely.

  "If they're being buttheads, you just ignore them if you can. If they're being mean to you, then go to the teacher. If they try to hit you, you can defend yourself. I don't want you to get hurt, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "I also need you to be very careful not to reveal who or what you are, either," I added seriously. "Because humans are afraid of us, they don't want us to live with them. So we can't let our secret come out. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," he said glumly. "But it's really stupid," he added, frustration clear in his tone.

  "It is really stupid," I agreed. "But we're strong, right?"

  He was looking down, tapping the heel of one cartoon sneaker against the toe of the other.

  "Hey," I said. He looked up to meet my eyes. "Everything is going to be okay. Got it?"

  "Got it," he agreed. "But I'm still going to call them buttheads in my head," he said defiantly, his eyes narrowed.

  I laughed, standing up and holding out my hand.

  "Deal. Let's go home."

  He slipped his hand into mine.

  "Okay," he said, smiling slightly, looking a little less curled into himself.

  I really hoped everything was going to be all right. It felt like there was a pitfall just waiting for us around every corner. All I knew was that I was going to try my best to make sure Omari had a good life.

  And nobody better get in my way.

  Chapter Twelve

  "Can we go to Jacob's bakery?"

  "Sure, ma
ybe on Saturday," I responded as we stepped into the stairwell leading up to our apartment. "When you don't have school and homework."

  "Okay," Omari said, running up the stairs before me as I went up at a slower pace.

  Probably I should start controlling his sugar more. Though it felt really hypocritical when my own diet wasn't exactly stellar. I mentally sighed. Maybe I was going to have to start eating healthier to set a good example for him. That sounded terrible.

  I made it to our floor just as Omari let out a surprised cry. I jerked my head up, immediately alert, my eyes scanning the hall for something dangerous.

  They clashed with light blue ones.

  I froze.

  "Ashur?" I said, a question more than anything. It was so unexpected to see him here, I couldn't fully process it for a second.

  "Ashur! What are you doing here? Are you going to stay longer? Why did you leave then?" Omari asked question after question, jumping up and down in excitement, a big smile on his face, his glum mood completely gone now.

  "Hey, Omari," Ashur said, smiling at him and ruffling his hair. "I missed you guys so thought I should spend a little more time here before I left," he explained, his eyes rising to meet mine again.

  Something was going on, but I didn't want to ask in front of Omari. I walked past Ashur to get to my door and opened it.

  "Omari, why don't you go inside and put your things away? Make sure you wash your hands."

  "Aw, Mia!"

  I looked down at him and jerked my head towards the apartment. "Go."

  He sighed. "Fine," he grumbled, trudging inside. "But I'm going to hurry!" he warned. His trudge immediately turned into a run, his little legs carrying him as fast as he could go.

  I closed the door most of the way to give us a little privacy as I heard him hurrying into the bedroom.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked in a low voice, turning to Ashur. "What's going on?"

  "I heard that something else happened," he said in a tight voice. "I came to make sure it was the last thing that happened."

  "You heard . . . " I trailed off. "You heard from where?" I demanded, doubt and irritation creeping into my mind and my voice.