Phoenix Rising

by Corrina Lawson

  Flowers? Who decorated a prison with flowers?

  “What is going on? Where are the cameras?”

  She shook her head. “There are no cameras here, Alec.”

  He brushed past her, walked through the doorway behind her and ended up in a bright, cheerful living room. Two huge windows, floral curtains and pale blue painted walls.

  This was the weirdest prison ever. Was she going to comfort him to death?

  “This isn’t a test for the Resource?”

  She shook her head. “No, this was all me.”

  He walked through the living room into a smaller room. It turned out to be a bedroom, with that same pale blue color on the walls and another big-ass window. The bed was covered by a yellow quilt.

  This was too damn girly for a prison.

  “What did you do to me?” he said through gritted teeth.

  She shrank back from him, retreating from the bedroom to the living room, her eyes wide. “I put you to sleep while I brought you here. I wanted to save your life. I understand you’re angry about being drugged but if you’d just listen for a minute—”

  “Listen?” He stalked to her and leaned in to her face. “You drugged me. You took away my fire. How is that saving my life?”

  “Took away your fire? What do you mean?” She hugged herself.

  She was scared.

  Good. That made two of them. Maybe he was being a bully. But she could be playing on that, using her supposed weakness to manipulate him.

  “What did you do to me?” He grabbed her upper arms, his fingers gripping her tight. She gasped and he let her go, annoyed that it still felt wrong, despite the fact that she’d been the one who’d hurt him. She wasn’t an innocent.

  He stalked past her again, out of the living room to the other end of the hallway, and ended up in a kitchen with light brown cabinets and white counters. This had a window too. Sunlight streamed into the room. Under other circumstances, it would have seemed, well, pretty.

  This room also had an unlocked screen door to the outside.

  “I don’t understand,” she said from behind him. “What do you mean, I took away your fire?”

  He walked to the door. What would he find outside? “I can’t use my fire or TK. I had it before you drugged me. I don’t have it now. That means you did something.” He stopped at the door and turned to watch her reaction.

  Her dark eyes widened, her body slumped backward, needing the kitchen wall for support. Her mouth twisted in a grimace, as if he’d physically struck her.

  “You can’t use your fire or the TK? That’s impossible.”

  It could be an act. But she looked genuinely freaked. “Tell me what you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything!” She straightened and looked at his hands. For the first time, he realized his knuckles were still bleeding from his assault on the coffee table. He’d gotten blood on her shirt when he’d grabbed her. He swallowed. Hey, it was partly her fault.

  “You kidnapped me. You locked me in. And I don’t see anyone else around to share the blame.”

  She winced. “Yes, but, God, Alec, your fire, I didn’t, I’ve no idea how that could have happened. That was the last thing I wanted.”

  “And yet, the fire and TK are gone.” She still sounded sincere. But her words and what had happened to him didn’t add up.

  “I let you out of the basement.”

  “After you locked me in.”

  “No, I locked it to keep out anyone who came after us. I thought if you woke up, you’d be able to open it.”

  “That’s a neat lie, seeing as how you knew I didn’t have the TK.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t know how to convince you.” She paused. “If I wanted to keep you prisoner, why did I let you out?”

  “Because you were scared of me.”

  “But I could have had a gun or a weapon to defend myself when I came down there. I didn’t.”

  “You locked the door behind you.”

  “So we could talk and not be interrupted. The basement is safe.” She took a deep breath. “Look, I screwed up by drugging you. I know that. I can see why you don’t believe me. Maybe you should just go.”

  “Go? Just like that?” Where the hell was he, anyway? “And go where?”

  “Anywhere you want. The door’s open.” She crossed her arms and hugged herself. “There’s a road in a mile or so. You’d probably find it and go wherever you like. Find a phone. Call the Resource. Go on walkabout, even.”

  He walked back to the door. The latch clicked and he pushed the door open a few inches. He could walk out.

  “You’re not making sense. First, you drag me here. You tell me you’re saving my life. Then you let me go.”

  “I’m not going to keep you here if you want to go. That would just make a bigger mess of this than I already have. I’m sorry.” She dropped her head.

  He turned, keeping his hand on the latch. He wanted to believe her. “Why not just talk to me in the woods back at the Resource?”

  She gritted her teeth. “Lansing was after me. He pulled a gun on me at the end of your training session and threatened to take me prisoner. He blamed me for whatever happened to make your fire go out of control at the docks. I had to escape but I didn’t want to leave you there alone. There are things you have to know about how you were raised. Your life depends on it.”

  “Yeah, that’s the third time you’ve said my life depends on it.” He turned back to the door and opened it several more inches. He took a deep breath and smelled sea air. She’d definitely taken him somewhere new, different. The air smelled fresher and cleaner than at the docks. No oil or gas fumes.

  “Did you take my power away?”

  “Take away what you love most? No.”

  He shut the door and turned around. If he walked out, he’d never get answers. He could drag her with him back to the Resource and sic the scientists on her. But then Lansing would take over and he’d get Lansing’s version of the truth. Plus, Lansing might hurt her. She didn’t deserve that if he was wrong. And she needed to explain what she meant by his life being at stake.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’ll talk.”

  Chapter Eight

  It was entirely possible that she’d just lied to Alec. Again.

  She could have done something to Alec’s fire, though she had no idea how. There had been that fleeting moment in the car when it felt like her telepathy had flared. Worse, if she had done it, she had no idea how to undo it. Even when the telepathy had worked, all she’d ever been able to do was hear and project thoughts. Nothing like this had ever happened.

  She’d taken one step to free Alec, to save his life from both the Resource and the CIA, and she’d made the situation infinitely worse. Alec would rather be dead than without his fire. And he might be dead, if he didn’t have the fire and TK to protect himself.

  But if she admitted that she might have taken the fire away, Alec would never listen or believe that what she told him about the Resource and Lansing was the truth. He’d go back there in a second.

  She looked out the window over the kitchen sink, trying to relax by concentrating on the curtains she’d so carefully chosen last year for Philip. He’d smiled and said the summer flowers reminded him of her. He wouldn’t be smiling now. He’d given her explicit orders to let him handle the situation with Alec. Considering how she’d messed this up, she should have followed those orders.

  Alec stared out the window beside her. “Where the hell are we, anyway?”

  “Maine. We’re on a hill overlooking a small harbor.”

  He slapped a hand down on the counter. “You haven’t made sense yet.”

  “Probably not.” But he’d stayed. She had a chance to talk to him. The closer she stayed to him, the better the chance that she could figure out what happened to his fire. And the longer he was away from the Resource and its director, the better chance he had of seeing the truth.

  “What did you mean when you said I needed to
know things about how I was raised?” he asked. “Why did you say that you wanted to save my life?”

  “I’ll answer but not with your hands bleeding all over the place.” The cuts had to hurt. She reached up, opened the cabinet and pulled out a first-aid kit.

  She could fix his hands quickly. She suspected she didn’t have much time to fix anything else. Even if the Resource didn’t find them first, Philip would show up. Alec didn’t trust her. He certainly wouldn’t trust Philip. Philip didn’t trust anyone but her. A confrontation could easily turn violent. It seemed all her choices were bad or worse.

  “My hands don’t hurt,” Alec said.

  She twisted the top off the bottle of hydrogen peroxide with more force than necessary, spilling some over her hands. “At least let me clean the cuts.”

  “No. I want answers.”

  “I’ll tell you as I’m treating your hands.”

  He shoved his hands over the sink. “Fine. So talk and bandage at the same time. Start with the problems about how I was raised.”

  He flinched when she grasped his wrists but didn’t pull away. She poured the peroxide over the cuts and it immediately bubbled up.

  “You were raised by Lansing to be a weapon, Alec. That’s the way he sees you. That’s the role he’s given you. Nothing more.”

  “It’s not nothing. F-Team is needed.”

  “You’re not like F-Team. You’re more like a sentient weapon that Lansing pulls out at need and locks up when the crisis is over.” She pushed his hands under the running water.

  “So that’s all I am to you? You think I’m just a sort of tricked-out weapon?”

  “No.” Argh. He didn’t want to believe what she was saying so he was not grasping her meaning. “I want you to be treated right. I want you to have a life. That’s what I meant by saving your life. It’s Lansing that views you as a tool, a weapon.”

  She turned off the water. Alec glared at her. “Yeah? Where did you get that from?”

  “I truly am a psychologist who treats gifted children and young adults.” She looked to his face for some sign of softening but he stared out the window at the ocean. “Mentor figures often manipulate their protégés so well that the one being manipulated doesn’t notice.”

  She dried off his hands with paper towels.

  “I’d say kidnapping me was manipulation. You did that, not Lansing. He raised me.” He stepped back from the sink. “I know him. I don’t know you. And you’re CIA.”

  “No, though I’ve occasionally helped the CIA with a few things.”

  She dried her own hands, not daring to look at him. They were at a crossroad. Either he would keep listening or he’d walk out right now. He had never seemed so far away. Even that odd connection between them, the one that had produced the fire when he’d kissed her hadn’t flared up when she’d washed his cuts. She couldn’t feel his power at all.

  “I thought with our sessions, that you’d eventually realize the situation on your own and gain independence. But Lansing was watching, contrary to all decency, and he didn’t like my influence on you.” She put out her palm. “Let me check if there’s anything caught in those cuts.”

  He offered her his hands again. “Yeah, I got that from him. Lansing thought you were a bad influence.”

  “Do you agree?” She pulled out several splinters from his knuckles and waited on the answer.

  He closed his eyes.

  “You have soft hands.” His voice was lower, quieter. He flinched as she spread antibiotic on the cuts. “Go on.”

  “After what happened on the docks, Lansing became more distrustful of me. It didn’t help that the CIA forced him to allow me back into the Resource. So he pulled a gun on me after your training session.”

  “If he pulled a gun and didn’t use it, he was just playing mind games with you,” Alec said. “He does that sometimes. He wasn’t serious.”

  “Even if that’s true, listen to what you just said. You just admitted that your authority figure likes to play mind games involving guns with you. This goes back to what I was saying about Lansing viewing you as a weapon, not a human being. That is not the least bit normal.”

  “I’m not normal. I don’t want to be.”

  “But you are human and you deserve to be treated like a person and not a weapon. When do you make your own choices? When do you choose your own life?” She laid a bandage over his hands. “Hold still a minute while I tape them up.”

  “I do make my own choices. I just happen to agree with Lansing.”

  “Right.” She ripped off several pieces of medical tape. He grunted and pulled his hands back as she finished applying the bandage.

  “You’re leaving out the part where Lansing showed me how to use my gifts and you took them away.”

  “I didn’t—” She bit down on her tongue. That sounded far too panicky. “I screwed up. I should not have forced you to come with me. But I didn’t take your fire.”

  She straightened her shoulders and waited for his reaction.

  “Nice story, counselor. Almost a fairy tale, even. The beautiful princess comes to rescue the gifted boy from a prison and saves him from a life of slavery. They live happily ever after. And it’s probably just as phony as those fairy tales.” He put both hands on the kitchen counter, bracing himself against it. “What I should do is have the Resource pick us both up and let them sort out the truth.”

  She wiped her still-wet hands on her jeans to prevent them from shaking. For the first time, she felt intimidated by his physical strength. “Yes, you could do that. Or we could eat and try to sort out what could have happened to your fire.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  He walked through the door and let it slam shut behind him. She watched for a few seconds out the kitchen window to see if he would leave. But he stopped in the middle of the patio and stared at the ocean.

  He was thinking about Lansing. He was thinking about his life.

  Or, being somewhere new, he was simply too curious to leave yet.

  Hands still trembling, she took a platter out of the cabinet and arranged crackers on it, finding calm in organizing them. Her mother had always organized something whenever she’d planned to discuss a serious subject. Beth added fresh grapes, apples and cheese to the plate. Philip must have been here recently if there was fresh fruit. He had planned ahead, as he had by leaving her the car. She poured a pitcher of water, grabbed a couple of plastic glasses, set everything on the platter and carried it to the patio.

  There. At least one thing was normal.

  Alec stood looking out over the view. She took care to set the plate down with as little noise as possible, not wanting to disturb him. Maybe he found it as compelling as she did or maybe this was the first time he’d seen the ocean like this.

  The cottage was perched on a high hill with a soaring view of the jagged cliffs that overlooked an inlet used by the local fishermen. The sounds of the waves echoed up to them. Seagulls cried overhead.

  The fall wind blew into the patio, caressing Alec’s thick, dark hair. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring, brooding. God, he was so beautiful. And yet she’d dented him, perhaps damaged his very essence. The road to hell was truly paved with good intentions.

  “This is not like New Jersey. Maine is northeast, up the coast, right?”

  “Yes.” She pointed to the food.

  He shook his head, his mouth in a grimace. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re dehydrated and hungry. I hate to mention it, since I’m the one who administered it, but maybe the drug messed with your system, upset some delicate physical balance that you need for your gift. Drink, eat and maybe part of that balance is restored. It can’t hurt and it might help.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her and slowly took a cracker. She poured water and he drank it down in one gulp. She poured another glass and he did the same, so she poured a third. He picked up an apple and bit into it.

  “How’d you get the drug that you used on me?”
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  “It was left in the car by a CIA contact. I told him no guns, I wouldn’t permanently injure anyone. So he left me the syringe.” She swallowed hard.

  He munched on the apple. “How’d I get in the basement?”

  “I carried you.”

  “You carried me?”

  “More like dragged you. You were semi-conscious. I would have stayed with you but I went upstairs to get something and made the mistake of sitting down and that’s when I feel asleep.”

  “Leaving me locked inside the basement.”

  “Leaving you locked safely in the basement in case someone broke into the house. I thought you could get out, if you wanted.”

  He tossed the apple core on the plate. “Let’s assume I believe you. What’s your take on how I can get my fire back?”

  I wish I knew for certain. She drank more water. “Rest, maybe. You had a very rough time at the docks. You could be suffering from shell shock. Well, they call it post-traumatic stress now. The early term is more direct and accurate.”

  “So we’re back to your hating my being a soldier again.” He stood and paced the small patio. “Shell shock. Sounds like bullshit to me.”

  He’d done this in sessions, argued with her when what he was really doing was chewing over her words. “Think. You’ve been drugged before and not by me and locked up your whole life and not by me. Think about the people that did that to you. Do you really want to go back? At least take this time to look around at the world. You may never have that chance again.”

  “Even if I like the waves, the ocean isn’t going to help me get my fire back. The Resource is the place that knows about my fire and how it works. They’d help me.”

  “Oh, sure. They want their weapon in working order and under their control.”

  He scowled.

  To her, power had been a curse. To him, it was his life. What a gulf between them. Analyze yourself, Beth. Have you been resenting him for it? Deep breath, deep breath. Just because her power had stayed totally latent for years, it didn’t mean his powers would stay latent too. Psychic abilities had to be at least partly based on subconscious desires. Look at how she’d heard Lansing’s thoughts when he pulled the gun. Her fear cut through whatever block she had about using her power.