Phoenix King

by Miranda Martin

  In place.

  Okay.

  Here we go.

  The street was empty here, never a good sign in a city dome where the population was so dense. I walked down the sidewalk, staying out in the open. I wanted them to see me and notice that I was indeed alone—or at least I looked like I was. I reached the large doors in the front, the kind that slid to either side to make an adjustable opening, depending on how big the shipment was.

  One side slid open before I even came to a stop in front of it. Two of the now-familiar men stood in the opening.

  "Right on time," the slightly balding one said quietly. "Why don't you come in, Mia Hill?"

  Was the use of my name supposed to strike fear in my heart? They'd obviously been watching me and had my friend incapacitated. Hearing my name in these circumstances didn't mean squat.

  "Don't mind if I do," I said with a small smile. Hey, we were all polite here. None of us wanted to kill anyone.

  They stepped back.

  This was not a great idea.

  I stepped into the narrow opening, the dim interior. Immediately I froze at a scream that ended abruptly.

  I guess Ashur couldn't get to Jacob quietly.

  No time to waste.

  Kicking into high gear, I grabbed the balding man and hit him in the temple with a closed fist. He went down for the count immediately.

  Then I palmed my knives again and turned to slice at the other guy, but he was already moving smoothly away. He was too smart to be distracted by the scream like his friend was.

  Too bad.

  He pulled out a sword.

  A big one.

  He smirked at me as he spun it, loosening up his wrist.

  "Come on in, little girl," he said in a whisper voice. Probably had too many cigarettes. Or maybe he just thought it made him sound cool. "Let's see how good you are with those cute knives."

  Was this where I was supposed to engage in useless banter? I just didn't have the time or the energy.

  I let one knife fly in response instead. It spun end over end towards his face, fast and deadly, but he simply wasn't there when it arrived, bending to the side to avoid it, his eyes still on me, his expression smug.

  Great.

  A show off.

  I pulled out my short sword. This wasn't going to be easy.

  He attacked.

  I moved to the side to avoid it, but he turned the blade mid swing and came from another direction. I barely blocked it with my sword, immediately sliding away again. I didn't want to get into a strength contest. So I kept parrying and looking for an opening as I scooted back towards the commotion now behind me.

  What the hell was Ashur doing back there, anyway?

  I let myself be distracted by a loud thump and slipped up.

  I was rewarded with a stinging slice across the outside of my thigh, shallow only because I moved right before he made contact. If I hadn’t, he would have hacked right into me, deep enough that I would be done.

  Okay, I had to focus. This was a guy who didn't just play with swords. He'd obviously been training his whole life. I was nowhere near that level.

  He swung his sword in a complicated pattern that was difficult to follow with my eye.

  Where was he going?

  I stumbled back to avoid the swing as it came at me from a completely unexpected direction.

  As I made the move, I knew this was it.

  I could feel myself losing my balance, falling. If I hit the floor, he had me. No way I could avoid an attack from that position.

  But I didn't hit the floor. Large hands grabbed me from behind and hauled me back to my feet with ease.

  I looked up into Ashur's face and saw Jacob come out from behind him, looking rock solid.

  Definitely not unconscious.

  The cavalry had arrived just in time.

  When I turned back, the man I was fighting was staring at them too.

  And he didn't look quite so cocky anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  "Sword?"

  Jacob held out his hand, his eyes still on the other man. Jacob taught me everything I knew about wielding a sword. Enough to make me decent, but nowhere near his level.

  I handed it over without argument. I knew what my strong suits were and fighting an expert with a sword wasn't one of them.

  The guy backed up as Jacob took my sword from me, rolling his shoulders as he stepped forward. He should have looked funny or at least a little odd wearing a hospital gown and carrying a sword, but there was nothing funny about him as he advanced on the guy, silent on his bare feet.

  His sword was smaller, but he was taller and his reach was longer. Still, a shorter blade was a disadvantage, not that you could tell with the way Jacob went after the man.

  The guy backed up immediately when the flurry of blows was unleashed on him. It was all he could do to block the jabs and slices, his face turning red and sweat sliding down his face as he worked hard simply to defend himself.

  Jacob's face was calm and his body steady as he stepped forward with each blow, pushing the man farther into the corner.

  Ashur circled around behind him, waiting.

  You didn't have to be an expert to know how this was going to end.

  Their blades locked. Jacob disarmed the guy, the man's sword clattering to the floor.

  Ashur stepped right into the opening and picked the man up by the throat, slamming him down onto the floor. "Oops," he said mildly as the man struggled. "Did that hurt?"

  I walked over, stopping beside Ashur. Jacob moved to the man's other side, my sword still in his hand as he watched dispassionately. He hadn't even broken a sweat.

  Not to self—don't get into an actual sword fight with Jacob.

  I looked down at the guy. He was at our mercy now.

  "Why are you after me?" I asked. "Why all this planning, all this manpower just to get to me?"

  The man just glared up at me, his face turning red from the grip Ashur had on his throat.

  "Ashur?" I murmured, touching his shoulder. "I think he needs a little air to respond," I said mildly.

  He relaxed his grip a little and the man wheezed in a breath.

  "Fuck you!" he spit out.

  That was helpful.

  I stepped forward as Ashur squeezed down again. There was one spot on a man's body he would likely protect at any cost. I placed my heel lightly on the man's crotch.

  And pressed down.

  Just a little.

  I saw both Ashur and Jacob wince in sympathy. It was a universal response.

  "Who sent you?" I asked, nodding at Ashur to let up.

  The man gasped in a breath.

  "You bitch! You're all idiots," he snarled. "If the King—" he snapped his mouth shut.

  "The King?" I repeated.

  I met Ashur's narrowed eyes. There was only one king I knew of, King Emberich, the phoenix monarch.

  My newfound father.

  Only genetically, though, thank god.

  "I'm not going back there a failure," the man growled and clenched his jaw.

  What was he doing? He'd bitten down on something. Just as I realized that, he started convulsing in Ashur's grip.

  "Shit!" Ashur growled, trying to pry open the man's jaw.

  But his eyes had already glazed over, his body going still.

  "It's too late. Poison," Jacob muttered, staring down at the man—body now—with clinical eyes. "Flicken. I've only seen this particular type used when the boss is really bad news. There's no antidote." He looked up at me, his look piercing. "Question is—what the hell does the Phoenix King want with you, Mia?"

  "It has something to do with that job I took," I murmured, keeping it vague. "The one that took me out of the city dome."

  I thought about just telling him everything—about what I was, about my heritage. There were enough pieces that he might have an inkling of at least part of the picture already, considering how smart he was. But it wasn't just me I needed to worry about now.
Exposing myself to Jacob was one thing.

  But letting out the truth would also expose Omari.

  Jacob's jaw tightened at the vague non-answer, but he didn't press. I knew it was going to come back to bite me later, but I'd take the reprieve for now. My attention returned to the man lying on the floor, the man who'd taken his own life rather than face his leader with the news of failure.

  Jacob was right about one thing.

  Emberich was bad news.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  We left the warehouse after that. There wasn't much point in hanging around, and we'd made enough noise to draw attention. Never a good idea in an area like that.

  Then, we headed towards the hospital to get Jacob looked at.

  "I'm fine," he insisted as Ashur made the turn onto the correct street.

  "Sorry," Ashur said as he continued driving. "I don't follow your orders." I could tell he was kind of enjoying forcing Jacob back to the hospital. I mentally rolled my eyes.

  I turned to Jacob in the back seat and said, "Look, your chest is bleeding," trying my best to sound reasonable. "You need to make sure everything is fine. The doctor hadn't even checked you out from the hospital when they took you!"

  "But he was about to," he argued. "And I just tore open the wound a little," he wheedled. "I don't need to go back."

  I gave him a look.

  "Fine," he said, relenting. "If you think I need medical attention, you could drop me off on the next street down."

  "What's the next street down?" I asked, wondering if he was trying to play me and get out of going to see the doctor.

  "My friend," he said. "Who is also a doctor."

  "What's his name?" I asked, watching him carefully. "Doctor Real McRealistine?"

  "Her name is Eloise Chen," he replied dryly, meeting my eyes directly. "And if I need any kind of medical attention, she'll make sure I get it. Trust me."

  A woman, huh?

  Ashur glanced over at me, raising a questioning brow as well.

  "All right," I agreed. "Let's head there."

  As long as a medical professional assessed Jacob, I was good. And hey, maybe this Eloise was just was Jacob needed right now.

  The building we pulled up in front of was on a nicer, sedate street, walking distance from the hospital, which made sense if that was where she worked.

  "Is she home?" I asked, craning my neck to look up at the building.

  "Yeah, she just messaged me," he said, opening the back door. I'd given him back his watch, glad to have it back on his wrist where it belonged. "She's coming out."

  "Where . . .” I trailed off as I saw a slim woman in a brightly patterned sundress hurrying over, her dark hair pulled off her face, revealing her pretty, elegant features.

  Very feminine, and almost delicate, at least in appearance.

  "What did you do to yourself now, Jacob?" she admonished, taking in the hospital gown and the blood all over his chest. "You're supposed to be in the hospital!"

  She didn't sound at all delicate.

  Good.

  Someone as delicate as she looked wouldn't be able to hold her own against someone as strong as Jacob. It shouldn't have been surprising. You had to have some real grit in you to get through med school and see the things doctors saw day in and out.

  To my surprise, Jacob didn't snap back at her. That was very interesting. Very interesting indeed. I almost wished I had a white cat so I could caress it while I hatched my plans to get these two together. Not that it looked like they needed my help.

  "I know," he said simply. "Think you could patch me up, Doc?"

  "Are you insulting me?" she scoffed. "You know damn well I can patch you up, you idiot. But I'm tired of doing it! I thought those days were behind you!"

  Jacob smiled at her, the expression slow and deliberate.

  "Maybe I just wanted to see your pretty face," he drawled. "You always make time for me if I'm hurt."

  Uh oh.

  I thought she was going to really blow a gasket at that revelation.

  "You are an asshat," she said calmly. "And if what you're saying is true, I won't be available to help." She drew herself up to her full height. "I will not enable this behavior."

  "Well, can you enable it for now," he asked. "I'm feeling a little woozy."

  He swayed a little.

  Ha!

  She muttered something under her breath as she wrapped an arm around his waist and hurried him over to the front door of the building. He didn't make a peep about the contact, despite the fact that he was perfectly steady on his feet. The pretty doctor didn't glance at either of us as she hurried them away.

  Well.

  All right then.

  At least she was focused on Jacob and he seemed happy enough to be the center of that attention. More than happy enough.

  "Looks like he's in good hands," Ashur remarked dryly as we watched the pair disappear into the building. He pulled away from the curb, looking pleased.

  "Yeah," I agreed, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Looks like he is."

  This looked like it had real potential.

  "Back to your place?" Ashur asked.

  I nodded. It appeared as if we'd taken care of the threat here in the city dome, at least for now. I knew Emberich wasn't going to just let this go, but he'd have to send more people to come after me now and that would take some time. So it was a worry for another day.

  For now, I just wanted to go get Omari. So we were going back to my place so I could pack for the trip to Ashur's territory. Maybe I'd stay a bit. I felt like I deserved a vacation.

  Ashur pulled up to the curb in front of my place.

  "You can just stay here," I said as I opened the door. "I'll just be a minute."

  "You sure?" he asked, glancing at the building. "I can find parking."

  "Don't worry about it. I have a bag I keep packed," I reassured him, ducking down to see him after I stepped out. "I'll just add a few things and be right down."

  "All right. I'll be waiting."

  I hurried inside and up the stairs. It felt like I hadn't been back for days rather than just a few hours. Intense events sometimes had that effect.

  I went straight to my closet, taking out the bag I had packed with toiletries, underwear, a change of clothes, along with other things I might need.

  Like a couple of knives. I needed one of my bows as well. Normally, I wouldn't take so much in terms of weaponry just to pick my little brother up. Especially in Ashur's territory.

  But I had no idea what was coming next after everything that had happened. Or what a long-term solution would even look like. Was there a solution? I ran the situation over in my head, trying to find a way to make sure this didn't happen again and coming up empty. How did one reason with someone like Emberich? Was reason even an option? I was thinking about that as I packed when I heard the front door open.

  Ashur must have gotten tired of waiting in the car.

  "I'm almost done," I called out, zipping up the bag.

  "Yes. You are."

  That wasn't Ashur's voice. I went still, my hand still on the zipper tab as an icy finger slid down the center of my back.

  Damn.

  I'd let my guard down too early. I slowly turned around, sliding one of my knives out.

  "What do you want?" I asked as I met familiar cold blue eyes.

  It was the man who'd followed me in the stairwell and attacked me at the hotel. He'd been playing a pretty starring role in my life lately, actually. I hadn't gone through the place to look at every guy after the last man died.

  Stupid.

  "My desire is simple," he said, spreading his arms out and smiling at me. "I just need to make sure our line of succession is clean."

  "Clean?" I repeated, inching closer, hoping talking would keep him distracted.

  His smile turned into a sneer.

  "We cannot have dragon blood on our throne," he spit out, not making any move to back up as I drew closer. "You are unfit to rule, a
s I'm sure you must understand. There would be too much of a conflict of interest. And now, with who you've decided to take up with . . ." He made an expression of distaste. ". . . that is even more clear. We have a strong contingent that sees this and agrees." He shrugged. "And so, you must be eliminated. It isn't personal. You should never have existed in the first place."

  Really? Not personal, huh? I'd like to shove his giant head up his own ass. That wouldn't be personal either.

  Well, maybe a little personal.

  "I exist because your King couldn't keep it in his pants," I retorted, taking another partial step closer. "Maybe he is unfit."

  He grimaced.

  "Yes, his proclivities are not ideal," he conceded. "But his bloodlines are pure and his loyalty to our race is unquestionable." He shrugged. "It is an acceptable trade."

  "Not ideal?" I scoffed. But then shook my head. This wasn't a fight I'd win and it was beside the point. I needed to argue against his fear.

  "I don't want to rule anything or anyone but myself," I said. "Not my goal in life." Just the idea of it gave me hives.

  "I'm sure you understand that I cannot take your word on this matter,” he said. “It would be highly inappropriate when you have a vested interest in saying so while under duress." He spread his arms out, looking apologetic.

  "And I'm sure you understand—I'm not going to just lie down and take it."

  I slashed at his face, but he bent back to avoid the blade.

  "There is no winning this fight," he taunted. "You may as well give in to the inevitable."

  He tried to sweep my feet out from under me, but I hopped back.

  "Forgive me if I don't take your word for it," I muttered.

  I snapped a kick at his side, connecting with a solid thump. He staggered back, but immediately threw his own kick that caught me in the thigh, rendering it almost numb.

  I jumped to the side, forcing my leg to work.

  He wasn't expecting the jump.

  Or the feint that ended with my knife at his throat. I was good in close quarters. That was where I'd fought my whole life.

  "Would you look at that—it wasn't a lost cause," I observed, my forearm pressed against his chest as blood slid down his throat. The knife was sharp, cutting him even though I was just resting it against his skin.