by Lexi Ryan
“Not exactly. How’s Claire?”
“She’s great. She’s picking up some French—oh my God, you should hear it. Abso-freaking-lutely adorable.”
My chest aches. “I miss her so much.”
She sighs. “Now you know how I feel all the time. Though I’ll be honest, I have no idea how you do this. I hired a nanny to help while she’s here, and Claire still wears me out.”
“She’s good at that.” I swallow hard. “Listen, I need a favor.”
She must hear the intensity in my voice, because hers goes soft. “Anything, Max.”
“Is there any way you can delay your trip home by a few days? I can’t explain now, but I don’t want Claire here until I work some things out.”
“Is everything okay?”
No. I take a breath. “It will be. I just . . . need to find a stallion.”
“What?”
“Nothing. So, what do you think?”
“That’s not a problem. Seriously, I have a friend arriving in the city next week who’s dying to meet Mademoiselle Claire, so it’ll be great.”
“Thank you, Meredith.”
“You’ve sacrificed more for me than anyone else would. I owe you way more than a little favor.” She pauses a beat. “Can I ask a question?”
“Sure.”
“Is this about a girl?”
“Her name’s Phoenix. I think you’ve met her before.”
“Doctor? Kind of uptight? I mean, I’m sure she’s not really, but kind of comes off that way?”
That’s Meredith. Can’t have a conversation about another woman without sticking her foot in her mouth. “She’s in trouble.”
“Then she’s lucky she has you. Shining armor has always suited you, Max.”
Laughter puffs from my lips, but it sounds hollow. “That’s what I hear. Good night, Mer.”
“Bonne nuit.”
I end the call and grab my laptop. I haven’t done research since I was in college, but I think I still remember a thing or two.
* * *
Nix
Sleeping at Cade’s was . . . weird. I expected a bachelor pad and found he has a really nice two-bedroom apartment in one of the complexes downtown that overlooks the river. Pretty swanky for a cop.
When I climb out of bed only a few hours after getting into it, I find him in the kitchen making coffee.
“I hope you didn’t get up on my account,” I say. “Especially since I invited myself over here.”
“I can’t ever sleep past five. Old military habits die hard.”
“You were in the military?”
“For a few years after high school.”
“And you worked as a homicide detective in LA?”
“Did some personal security stuff after that too,” he says. He pours two mugs of coffee and hands one to me. “Cream’s in the fridge if you want it. Anything else from my résumé you’re curious about?”
“You’re kind of an enigma to me, Officer Watts. All this adventure and you ended up here.”
He cocks a brow. “I’m the enigma? You just dumped the guy you love and spent the night in my guest bedroom.”
“I never said I loved him.”
He grunts. “You didn’t need to. Care to explain what you’re doing here?”
I drop my gaze to my coffee, not wanting to meet his. “I need to figure some things out.”
“Clearly.”
* * *
Max
I spent a couple hours online last night digging through Google search results and finding nothing, so as soon as the doors open at noon, I head into the public library.
“Max,” the girl behind the circulation desk calls. “Where’s Claire?”
I smile politely. “She’s still with her mom in Paris.”
“Stocking up on books for when she returns?” the girl asks.
I shake my head and approach the desk. “Actually, I’m trying to find old newspaper articles about a church fire that happened thirty years ago.”
“Oh, sure. I can help. Where was it?”
I grimace. “Yeah, that’s the hard part. I don’t really know. But I know it was in Indiana—” I think, but I’m not sure. But that’s as good a place to start as any. “And I know it happened thirty years ago tomorrow.”
“Hmm. Okay, let’s see what we can find.”
I follow her to the computers in the reference area. “I searched online last night, but none of the newspapers’ websites went back far enough.”
“No, they usually don’t. Nothing was digitized back then. But don’t worry. You came to the right place.” She shows me how to log on to their servers so I can view newspaper articles from three decades ago. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Forty-five minutes later, I’ve found what I’m looking for.
Judge Declares Insufficient Evidence in Church Arson Case Against Jeremiah Henry
* * *
Nix
I smile at the armed guard outside Patrick Henry’s room and wave a chart.
“Two doctors in as many hours?” the guard asks in disgust. “My mother didn’t get such good care when she was dying. Guess it pays to be a criminal in the country.”
I duck my head and push into the room, murmuring, “Sorry to hear about your mother.”
When I sit down next to the hospital bed by Patrick, I feel as if I’ve entered the Twilight Zone. I spent years fearing this reunion, and now I’ve made it happen.
“Phoenix,” he whispers, rolling his head to the side to look at me.
“I’m so sorry.” I swallow hard. It’s hard to sit here and face what I did to him. “I’m sorry about what I did thirteen years ago. I shouldn’t have left you there.”
“What you shouldn’t have done was call the fire department. I told you you’d have to burn Camelot to the ground to escape it.”
“And that’s why you set the fire? I thought you were trying to kill me.”
He smiles slowly, but the smile is twisted on the scarred side of his face. “No. A phoenix will always rise from the ash. You’d done it before. I knew you could do it again. And you escaped, didn’t you? But then you called the fire department and saved the whole damn place.”
I shake my head. “You’ve been trying to warn me. The fire in my yard and the text messages—I thought you were threatening me, but you were warning me.”
He nods vaguely.
“What about the phone calls?” I ask.
He rolls his head to the side and attempts a frown, though clearly even that requires more strength than he has. Death isn’t knocking on Patrick’s door—it’s sitting right in the room with us, holding his hand. “I never called you.”
So Patrick sent the early texts, but it had to have been Jeremiah who was calling me. That makes my stomach churn. “They think you murdered Kent,” I tell him.
He shrugs. “I’m dead the second they release me anyway. My father will have his men finish the job they started.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I’ve been trying to warn you. I wanted you to finish the battle.” His voice is weak, and I have to strain to hear him. “But you ignored my messages, and then you told them I was around, and I couldn’t get to you anymore.”
“Why does he want me now?” I whisper.
Patrick’s eyes cut to me before floating closed again. “He’s always wanted you, Phoenix. From the day you were born. That’s why he sent me to woo you. He’d been waiting, and when you turned sixteen, he had me find you. The only problem was, I fell in love with the girl my father intended to claim as his own.” His lips twist but his eyes stay closed. “You should have seen how angry he was when he found out your were pregnant. He knew it was mine, but he couldn’t tell anyone that. If the elders knew the truth, by his rules, you’d have to be exiled. He couldn’t have that. He’s been obsessed with you your whole life.”
“Why didn’t you just find me and explain all this?”
“I swore to God that if you escaped the
fire, I would stay out of your life. I was trying to keep that promise but still warn you,” he says. His irrational logic doesn’t faze me. I spent most of last night thinking like Patrick to unravel the puzzle of what’s been happening the last few months. “Until Kent was murdered, I was like you. I believed he’d let you go. But when your fiancé disappeared, I knew what had happened, and I knew he had plans for you. So I started watching you closely. I wanted to protect you, but I knew he’d kill me for interfering, so I had to be careful.”
“Why now?”
“Because they’re turning on him. Slowly, but it’s happening. There’s unrest in Camelot. And just like he did when there was unrest in Gaia, he’s going to burn it down and ask God to save the faithful. But you and I both know he doesn’t care about the faithful. He only cares about himself. And you, Phoenix.”
“What’s Gaia?”
“Your mom’s first commune. That was Dad’s fire too. He’d been exiled, and when they wouldn’t let him return, he burned it down. You survived the first time and you survived my fire, and now he thinks he needs you. You can leave Camelot, but as long as it stands, you can’t escape it. Let it burn, Phoenix. Don’t make the mistake you did last time.”
He’s as crazy as his father if he believes I’m going to let Jeremiah burn my mother and sister, but I’m afraid if I send the police I’m sentencing them to burn too.
My phone buzzes with a new text message. It’s from the same number that sent last night’s messages.
We’re ready to light the candles. If you promise not to bring any uninvited guests to our party, I promise to spare these from the fire. Will you come home?
With the message is a picture of my mother and my sister tied to opposite sides of the altar, their hands bound behind their backs, duct tape covering their mouths.
“I have to go to him.” When I look up from my phone, Patrick’s gaze is steady on me.
“Happy birthday, sweet Phoenix,” he whispers, then he closes his eyes. “Finish the battle.”
Twenty-Nine
Max
Cade opens the door to his apartment after I pound on it the third time. “You know, I have neighbors who are trying to sleep.”
“Where’s Nix?”
“I told you when you texted that she’s doing rounds at the hospital. Why?”
“She’s not at the hospital. I was just there. They said she left hours ago.” I look at my watch. “And her birthday is in three hours.” I’ve wasted the last hour driving around town looking for her and trying to get her to return my calls. I should have come to Cade’s from the start.
“What’s going on?” he asks softly.
“Patrick put that body in Nix’s kitchen yesterday.”
He drags a hand through his hair. “We know he did. His fingerprints were all over the place.”
“But I don’t think he killed her fiancé.”
“I’m not sure Nix believes he did either, but she’s not talking. Do you have any idea who?”
“Jeremiah Henry. Patrick’s father. The man Nix was supposed to marry the day she left Camelot. He burned down a church with people locked in it the night Nix was born. Her mom was in there but escaped, and Nix survived. And I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that she ended up meeting his son and moving to his commune sixteen years later.”
“What’s he going to do?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t even know where Camelot is.”
“I do,” Cade says.
I nod. “Then we start there. We need to make sure Nix is safe. Her birthday is significant.”
Cade’s cell and mine chime one after the other with text messages. We read them at the same time and then look at each other.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go.”
* * *
Nix
I can’t believe the church is still standing—dilapidated and broken, its remains stand like a charred skeleton resurrected in the moonlight. Jeremiah could have had it torn down and a new one built, but I bet he imagined this night and counted on me coming back.
When I escaped Camelot thirteen years ago, I didn’t think I would ever return.
I knew what I was leaving behind—my mother, my sister, and Patrick. Patrick, whom I’d loved enough to follow here. Patrick, who had held me down while they burned Camelot’s symbol into my skin. Patrick, who was perfectly happy to die by my side and who held my hand while the rafters caught fire and until his lungs filled with smoke.
When I step into the church, my breath catches as the smell of kerosene hits my nose. The place has already been saturated. I spot the first flames—a row of candles in the three Camelot circles around the altar. My steps slow. I can practically feel the smoke in my lungs and the ropes biting into my wrists.
“Phee Phee!”
“Amy?” I rush to the front, frantic, and like in one of my nonsensical dreams that mix memory and fear, Amy is tied to the left side of the altar, ropes crisscrossing her chest, panic in her eyes. On the right side is my mother, anger and defiance blazing in her eyes.
That’s right, Mama. Don’t let them take the fight from you.
I immediately drop to my knees to untie them.
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
Jeremiah’s voice—strong and sure. And the stuff of nightmares. He looms over me, as if he manifested from thin air. There’s a knife in his hand and evil in his eyes. My hands freeze. How did I never guess he was my true enemy?
“Hurry,” Amy says. “He’s crazy. He has everyone locked in the basement.”
I swallow hard. “You said if I came you’d let them go.”
Jeremiah studies me, his eyes cold and calculating. “I did. If you give yourself to me.”
“Just let them go.”
“You can’t have her!” my mother screams.
“Hush.” Jeremiah leans over—slowly, calmly—and when I realize what he’s doing, I yank away and scramble backward. He catches my wrist and holds up a thick zip tie. “Who stays, Phoenix? You or your family?”
I stop trying to escape his grasp. “Let them go.”
His lips curve into a demented smile. “Then follow me.”
“Not until you release them.”
With a few swishes of his blade, he cuts through the ropes holding Mom and Amy to the altar, and then he’s against me, pushing me to the life-size crucifix behind the altar and using the zip tie to bind my hands to the cross over my head.
“You can’t stay here, Phee Phee,” Amy whispers as she rises to her feet. “He’s evil. He killed your fiancé.”
Jeremiah smooths a lock of my hair behind my ear, and I shudder. “Kent,” he says with a soft sigh. “I told him what would happen if he didn’t leave you, but he called my bluff.” He cocks my head and studies me. “He really did love you, but he couldn’t understand that you weren’t his to take.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out his words so I can think.
“I’m glad you finally made it home,” Jeremiah says, still touching my face. “Just in time for your birthday celebration. God will reward you for returning to me.” He steps away. He moves with the calm assurance of a man who already knows he’s going to win the battle. He turns to Mom and Amy, who stand staring at me. “Tell your friends to leave or I’ll throw them in the basement with the others.”
“Leave, Amy.” I swallow hard. “Get out of here.”
Jeremiah tips over the first candle and the flame races in a circle around the church, forming a ring of flame that begins and ends only feet from the crucifix.
Amy shakes her head, her eyes panicked, and I lock my eyes on hers. “Get Mom out of here. It’s going to be okay.” Tears stream down her cheeks, and I hope I’m not lying.
For the first time in thirteen years, I put my hope into a prayer. Please, God. Please.
“She’s my reward,” Jeremiah says, wrapping a hand around my neck. “God’s w
ill be done.”
And just like that, fire sirens blare. Mom rushes at Jeremiah and tackles him to the ground as Max busts through the church doors, Cade at his side.
“The basement!” I shout. “They’re trapped in there!”
Jeremiah’s knife is at my mother’s throat, and blood trickles onto the blade. “Don’t hurt her!” I yank at my bound wrists, pulling, kicking, twisting, desperate to find freedom.
Cade rushes to the basement door, slides the wooden bar off, and pulls it open, and people rush out of the basement and toward the exit. The screams and cries fill the church as the fire engulfs it and smoke presses down on us.
“The children,” Amy says. She rushes to the basement door and helps Cade guide the panicked mob out the front door.
Max jumps over a burning church pew, racing toward me and the fire that creeps closer and closer to my legs. I can’t get my eyes off Mom. She pushes Jeremiah over, and his knife skids across the floor. Max sweeps it up and saws at the tie binding my wrists.
Jeremiah grabs a fistful of Mom’s hair and yanks her off and shoves her into the fire.
“No!” I scream, yanking one more time at the ties. I lunge forward, covering Mom’s body with my own as I roll us from the flames. Jeremiah hurdles himself toward us, but Max tackles him mid-leap.
“You will be punished for thwarting God’s will!” Jeremiah crows.
Max twists his hand behind his back. “I’ll show you God’s will, motherfucker.”
Thirty
Max
“Daddy!” Claire screeches as she runs through the front door and into my arms. “I missed you!”
I scoop her up off the floor and swing her through the air. It’s been less than a month and I swear she’s grown a ton. “I missed you too, Pumpkin,” I say into her hair. My throat is too full of emotion. She’s a piece of me, and having her home makes the whole world right itself. I can handle anything—any heartbreak, any psycho bad guy—as long as I have my daughter.
