Phoenixfire: A paranormal reverse harem romance (The Rogue Witch Book 8)

by KT Strange

  “He didn’t have a choice with me,” I said, “I was her roommate.”

  “Her going to college was the best thing she could’ve done. It got her out from under his thumb,” Craig said, grabbing my shoulder and squeezing it. “In a lot of ways, I really think you saved her life.”

  “How?” I frowned. Because really, she’d lost her life because of me. I’d cost her everything.

  “Demons aren’t exactly nursery school teachers, Darce. Who knows what he had planned for her once she was all grown up and fully in control of her powers?”

  “But she had no idea what she was. You’d think he’d have wanted her to… practice, or something.” None of it made sense.

  “Well, we’ll never know now,” he said with a shrug. “Whatever his plans were, they died with her, and I mean to stay as far the fuck away from him as possible.” His lips were pressed into a thin line, grief shadowing at the corners of his eyes. “He’ll just remind me of what I lost, and I’ll have to rip his throat out. She’s not around now, and I don’t need to hold back anymore.”

  The quiet power in Craig washed over me. My breath caught in my throat.

  “What are you?” I asked, because he wasn’t a mundane, not really. He wasn’t a witch either.

  “I’m like you,” he said, “but not. We all have gifts. Some of ours go zap-zap like yours do, and some of ours push us to find every inch of darkness in this world and set it on fire.” He turned away as I mulled that over, trying not to show how intensely curious I was about what he meant. “But you should see the guys. C’mon. Before they think I’m horning in on their territory and they start peeing on all your clothes or something.”

  “What?” I asked as he took a few steps away from me. He waved his hand in the air, not looking back at me.

  My stomach turned over and I frowned before following him.

  The guys weren’t like that. They weren’t like real dogs.

  They wouldn’t just… pee on my stuff. And they wouldn’t think anything of my tentative friendship with Craig.

  Hopefully.

  17

  Darcy

  Another show, the scent of yet another shadowed venue was embedding itself in my veins. As I sat on the edge of the stage, looking out at the empty room, the seats at the far back and the balcony stretching off into the dark, I wondered if it would ever be normal to not be on tour.

  Would we ever have a life where we had one place to live in? Would the guys even want that? Did I?

  I had to smile at myself, my legs dangling over the edge of the stage as the sound crew moved around me. That wasn’t the kind of future I wanted, where everything was still and static. The road was where I belonged. I could feel it in my pulse, with every turn of the wheels, the blurring of trees and grass as we sped along another highway.

  The feel of sitting in the temporary quiet of a pre-show venue, the humming excitement building slowly inside me, was something I’d never seen coming. I’d always looked forward to being in the music industry, but I’d never really known what that meant in the big picture. Instead, it was an immense feeling that gathered in my belly, moments strung up on a wire, tiny beads of light following one another. It made me catch my breath, and the only thing in the world that could possibly top it was the feeling of loving and being loved by my pack.

  That, of all things, was the greatest gift that life had given me.

  “Hey.” Charlie settled down next to me, his legs hanging over the edge, an acoustic guitar slipping into his lap as he sighed.

  I turned to smile at him, and he leaned in close, kissing me slowly. His warm lips closed over mine, and my stomach clenched down with the painful-sweet moment of it. My breathing was shaky when he pulled away, an amused sparkle in his eyes.

  “What’re you doing?” he asked, his fingers slipping along the strings. They rung out, but were quickly swallowed by the big room that seemed to go on forever in front of us.

  “Just thinking that maybe, after all, everything was worth it,” I said. I stretched my arms out in front of me, reaching, wondering if I reached far enough, I could touch the back of the room, pull it in, make it small again, like those tiny venues we’d played when the guys were first on tour. The intimate press of the crowd, the way Finn could just bend down and grab a hand, connecting to the audience in a way that could never be replicated in a large theater or, if we ever made it that far—a stadium.

  “The only part of all of this I really care about?” Charlie waved his hand through the air, before letting it rest on the neck of his guitar, thumb stroking the wood. “Was you stumbling into our lives. Yeah, the fame is alright, the money is security, the fans are cool, but-”

  The warmth rushing through me flooded through my limbs, blossoming on my cheeks, nearly exploding in my chest.

  “You and us?” he continued, ignoring the noises of the sound crew around us as they wheeled in amps and started running lines along the stage, taping down the cords. “It makes this whole circus worth it. I know you’ve been beating yourself up, but, Darcy, at a certain point, you need to just take a deep breath and fucking forgive yourself. For everything.”

  He knew. He could see my feelings like they were written on my skin. I pressed my lips together and looked away, not sure I was ready to let go yet.

  Letting go felt like letting go of Max, forgetting her sacrifice.

  “She’s gone, Darce. Feeling shitty about it every minute of the day isn’t going to bring her back, and, to be honest, you’re disrespecting the life she gave up by not living yours.” Charlie’s words stole the breath from my lungs; I tried not to wince visibly. Ow.

  “Ouch,” I said. Charlie reached out, his hand cupping my cheek gently, guiding me back to look at him. Sadness ringed the lower edge of his eyes, heavy tears that refused to fall.

  “The last thing I wanna do is to tell you how to mourn, or tell you what to feel.” He hitched his shoulder and grimaced, looking pissed at that very thought. “I just hate seeing you like this, beating on yourself. You were enough. You are enough. You did your best. We all did.”

  “Well, it wasn’t good enough.”

  “Sometimes it won’t be,” he said, being too reasonable and agreeable. I hated him like that, but I knew he was right. I just couldn’t stand that he was right. Because it hurt too much. If I was honest, wallowing was where I wanted to be right then. I couldn’t breathe without thinking about the past, and the mistakes we’d made. “We lost a lot of our family, even though we all did our best,” Charlie said. “You think we don’t know loss?”

  “Of course you do,” I said, not able to help the bite that crept into my words.

  “I’m not telling you I’ve had it worse. Pain doesn’t… care how many times you’ve loved and lost. Pain is just pain. It feels the same, prying your chest open, eating your heart out, every time. It doesn’t magnify with every single person that slips away from you.” He sighed. “I only want you to know that you have to start living sometime soon. Please. For yourself. Don’t waste this time we have.” His hand found mine, fingers twining through my own. I closed my eyes.

  “I’m being a bit of a lump,” I said.

  “A pretty lump,” he agreed. That brought a smile to my lips, and I nudged him with my shoulder.

  “Rude,” I said. He laughed, the sound ringing out in the large room.

  “Guilty as charged,” he murmured, turning to pull me to him. He kissed me slowly, and I relaxed into it, trying to breathe out all my sorrows as his tongue slipped between my parted lips.

  He was right. I needed to start living in the present and trying to forgive myself for the past.

  “The best thing you can do for yourself,” Charlie’s words were soft against my lips, the skin tingling from the pressure of his kisses, “is start to live like your family would hate you to. They’d want you to feel bad, for all your good feelings to curdle right in your gut. That’s what they want, to sour this, to ruin us.”

  I pulled away and stare
d at him, the truth in what he was saying hitting me right in the chest.

  I swallowed.

  “Yeah,” I said, not able to come up with anything more eloquent than that response. “Yeah… you’re right.”

  “I almost always am,” he teased, setting his guitar aside. “Now, c’mon, you better go get ready for tonight, yeah? Eli said you were thinking of joining us on stage. So go get ready, and let us real musicians tune our instruments.” He winked at me. I snorted.

  “Thanks, buddy,” I said, as his hands closed around my hips, helping me to my feet. He followed me up, his guitar in hand. “I’ve got some errands to run anyway,” I said. The venue had forgotten a few things for the green room that we needed. Like Red Bulls. Cash seemed to be drinking a lot of those lately before shows. There was a corner store just across the street that I could grab some at, and bill the venue for later. It was only a few pounds or whatever, but still. They were breaking contract. The little things added up, especially for bands on the road.

  “Take Craig with you,” Charlie said, “if one of us can’t go.”

  “It’s across the road,” I said, reminding him. “That’s it. That’s the errand.” Charlie threw his free hand up, and I could tell that if I didn’t agree, he’d give me a massive lecture that neither of us had time for.

  “Still, take him with you. I don’t trust anyone or anything. Except our crew. You got that?”

  “Whatever, grandpa,” I said, turning away to walk off the stage, his grumpy mutterings following me. At least Craig was easy to find; he followed me out into the fading daylight.

  “Quite the lineup already,” he said, eyeing the early ticket line that was beginning to snake out onto the sidewalk from where it had coiled around the side of the venue building.

  “We’re slaying, as they say,” I replied. “Choke on that, hunter assholes,” I muttered the last part under my breath as we crossed the street. Nothing was better revenge than success. Frank Sinatra, or whoever’d said that, was right. As I looked back over my shoulder, I saw hundreds of fans in band t-shirts waiting anxiously to get inside the venue.

  Fuck my father. He could send a thousand hunters our way, he could survive our fights, and he’d still never destroy us. The legacy of Phoenixcry would live on in music, in the hearts of every single person who saw them perform. It was a heady, intense feeling that made me feel half drunk.

  “I’m gonna grab a snack,” Craig said, sounding uncharacteristically happy as he surveyed the corner store’s chocolate bar selection. I shot him a smile and went to the back of the shop, looking for the fridge with the energy drinks. “Hey,” Craig said, interrupting my quest for a second. “What do you think of this?” He held up a Flake bar. My eyes lit up.

  “Max used to grab those from the British import shop,” I said. “We loved them.” He smiled at me and picked up a handful, one for each of the guys, plus me and him. If he was intending on sharing, that was. Either that, or he was hoping to get diabetes from shotgunning sickly-sweet chocolate.

  “You think Chels and her guys would like some?” he asked, making me feel mildly relieved for his pancreas.

  “Yeah, totally,” I agreed. It was nice to see a softer, more human side of Craig, and that he was starting to fit in more with our motley group. The trust would take time to build, but at least everyone was trying.

  I ducked my head under a festive streamer hanging in the aisle from some recent holiday, and sighed as I surveyed the sad selection of energy drinks.

  No Red Bull. Only some weird knockoff brand I’d never heard of. I wrinkled my nose at the selection and sighed, opening the sliding glass door on the giant fridge.

  Looking back, I should have seen it coming. We’d been expecting attacks from the media, or my father and hunters. But I kept forgetting to focus on them, not paying attention to the other threat.

  Not from this direction.

  Not from the band’s fans. Not in person.

  “Slut.” My head jerked up at the word, and I turned around to stare at the person who’d said it. Two girls were standing in the middle of the aisle, one of them with her eyes turned away from me. She seemed intensely focused on a display of white bread in plastic wrap. Her friend, though, was staring me down. When I looked at her, I saw that her shirt was a Phoenixcry shirt. Great. A fan who hated me.

  “Izzy, let’s just go,” said her friend as I stared the two of them down, in no mood to be intimidated. At the front of the store, I saw Craig looking back at us, concern written on his face. Izzy, or whatever her name was, obviously wasn’t going to listen to her friend. She took a step towards me, and ugly smile on her lips.

  I held up my hand.

  “You don’t want to start anything with me,” I said. “Nothing you say or do to me is going to change what’s going on in my life, or how much the guys love me.”

  Surprise crept across the girl’s face, and she took a step back, stumbling into her friend. The other girl grunted and shoved at her friend.

  “Let’s go,” she snapped. The girl who called me a name, Izzy, kept staring at me.

  “You love the band?” I asked. Both girls nodded. “Then respect the fact that I’m with them; hating on me isn’t in a change that. Get it?” I grabbed two cans of a random energy drink from the fridge, walking down the aisle and brushing by the two of them. They jumped to get out of my way. I sighed as I reached Craig at the front of the store.

  “You okay?” he asked me, his voice pitched low.

  “Let’s just pay and go.” I shoved my cans onto the counter.

  “I got this,” Craig said, adding his chocolates to the pile. Our purchases were bagged swiftly, and we were out of the store before I could blink.

  “What?” I asked as Craig wrapped an arm around my shoulders and ushered me to the street corner.

  “You looked like you were about to go off,” he said, glancing behind us.

  “You think I’d lose control?” I hissed at him. He raised an eyebrow.

  “You wouldn’t?” His doubt bit at me, and I glared straight ahead, refusing to look at him.

  “I wasn’t even close to losing it in there. Not on a couple of stupid fans who don’t know how to be polite.” I hadn’t been close to letting my powers get away from me, right? The thought nagged at me as we crossed the street and flashed our backstage access badges at the security guard on the side door. The quiet of the venue’s back halls fell around us, and I let out a soft breath.

  “Don’t tell the guys,” I said, as we walked toward the greenroom.

  “Secrets? That’s not a good idea,” he said. “I know more than anyone that keeping secrets from the people you love just ends up in bullshit and sadness. I… yeah, thinking about what I said? I change my mind. If Max were here, now, in front of me, I’d tell her everything.”

  “Look, I don’t want them knowing their fans are being little shits like that in person, or that you think I can’t control myself. Because I can,” I spat each word out, even though it wasn’t really him I was mad at. I grabbed Craig by the upper arm, staring into his eyes. “Got it?”

  He sighed. He was obviously uncomfortable.

  “Whatever you say, boss.” He shrugged out of my grip. “C’mon, let’s go eat chocolate.” He pushed his way into the green room, holding up the bag of sweets and drinks we’d purchased as the guys greeted him with cheers.

  I held back for a breath, waiting a moment in the quiet outside the green room, the chatter threatening to envelop me once I stepped in.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent a text to the one person I knew would really understand what I was going through.

  Hey, I know I’ve been a little shit to deal with, but I could really use a friend. And a hand, on this tour. It’s getting a bit much.

  My phone buzzed almost immediately as Willa texted me back.

  You okay? :( Let me see what I can do. Do you want to talk?

  I closed my eyes, the hot fuzz of tears burning in them. I wasn’t okay
. I hadn’t been okay for a while. It felt like nothing could make me okay, or stitch me back together. Why wasn’t my life enough? I had everything anyone could want, and still…

  I think I’m depressed. I sent, the deep ache in my chest feeling like it was going to cave in from that admission, and the realization that came with it. I wasn’t getting better because I couldn’t. Not without asking for help.

  I chewed on my lip. Well, that text would be my first step to getting better. Hopefully… hopefully… I could keep opening up, even when it was scary and painful. Because living the way I was? I was shutting down from the inside out, and there was no way I could keep going.

  “Darce?” Cash opened the door, poking his head out. “Thanks for the-” He fell silent when he saw my face, and I realized it was wet with tears. “Doll, sweetheart, shit.” He didn’t ask what was wrong as he stepped into the darkness of the hall and wrapped me into a hug. I let my arms come up between us as the tears turned into broken sobs. Light crept around us as the door was opened further, the rest of the pack coming to surround me, all warmth and comfort, everything I needed and didn’t deserve.

  And, somehow, even as Eli pressed a kiss to my temple, and the pack closed me in, their heat, their love, couldn’t touch the icy core inside of my chest.

  I needed help.

  I just didn’t know how to ask for it.

  18

  Eli

  It’s hard to feel like you’re a failure for doing your best. That’s how our girl was feeling, and it was wrecking us. Somehow, in the midst of all the shit we were in, we’d been trying to fix the problems with the press and our fans calling Darcy all sorts of names, and we’d missed how broken up she still was over losing Max.

  I mean, anyone’d be sad about losing their best friend, their soul sibling. Max and Darcy had been living in each other’s pockets for a good chunk of their lives. From the perspective of someone who’d been around the block and around in the world for closing on a century… those few years they’d had as best friends? It was the biggest part of their lives. It was the most significant part of Darcy’s life. There could be, in many ways, no one closer to her than Max.