by Claire Davon
Images. A small Rachel looking up at a furious father, who was holding a scorched teddy bear.
Images. A dream this time, Rachel tossing and turning in a stormy night, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming of revenge on all the children who mocked and pointed at her. Of the foster family who only took her in because of the money, and made sure she knew that every meal she ate was begrudged. The dream took the form of the movie Carrie, with Rachel sending fire down the hallways and corridors of the school and into the master bedroom at home, setting everyone ablaze.
That fateful night. A ten-year-old Rachel running from the car as it erupted in flames. There was a large…something…behind them, and it spat fire at them.
Memory jumbled and she was away from the burning car, her overnight bag in one clammy hand. Inside she could see the skeletons of her immolated parents. A big winged figure, like a page from the Arabian Nights, was hovering out of sight of another, smaller one. She wasn’t sure how he managed to be unseen, but he did. The large person spared her a look, and she heard, “Run, Rachel, run. Now, granddaughter.”
Her feet were moving before she was aware of it. In the distance there were sirens, their sounds indicating they were getting closer. Someone must have seen the fire. She could stay, she could go back…maybe her parents were still alive…
“They are not. Run.”
It was the only thing to do. Tears on her cheeks, Rachel had run. As she did so a blanket descended over her mind, something that protected her even while it took her memories.
She came out of it with a cry, still clinging to Phoenix.
* * * * *
Rachel was damp with sweat, and released one of his hands to wipe her forehead. His eyes were closed, as was his mind, and he was mouthing words, their meaning unclear.
Memories continued to crowd her, but they were distant, like a far-off dream. They were fading and hard to get to, more like sepia-toned photographs than actual memories. Without opening his eyes, Phoenix tugged her until she went into his lap. His arms closed over her. She burrowed against him, allowing the skin contact to soothe her.
Finally, he opened his eyes. His expression held understanding but no fear, and a kind of respect. His eyes were warm and liquid brown, their depths seeming to say, “I understand.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly the images started again. This time, they weren’t hers.
There was a Phoenix much the same as he was now, except decorated with war paint and smeared with gore and bile of other men’s bodies. He was thinner and his shoulders far less massive. By the look of him, she decided this was before his change to an Elemental. He was chanting a cry of some sort, swinging a huge ax that looked as if it could dismember half the universe with one blow. He didn’t look that different than he did now. He swung his ax, killing all around him. She watched as later that night he stood on the side of a volcano, shaking his head as a handsome light-skinned Egyptian man and woman stood in front of him, explaining his new station. It didn’t seem that this warrior had had a choice in what he became.
The Phoenix origin story, she thought wryly. Far different than the comics.
A shift, the image fading to be replaced by a brown and dirty city, small by today’s standards, with dim illumination and people bustling. They were dressed in archaic fashions that she didn’t recognize. There was a pall in the air, a cloud of what she would call smog if this were modern times. The smog dimmed the sun, the rays peeking out through streaks of pale brown.
There was a river, the banks of which had trash on them. The harbor was clear, however, with many ships going in and out of a major shipway. The shape of the port and the river were familiar in a travelogue way. “London?”
“Yes.”
Rachel searched her memory for her history lessons, trying to remember what time frame this would be. She didn’t know architecture well enough to place it accurately.
“Fourteenth century.”
With a small shudder, Rachel found the reference. London in the fourteenth century had been struck by bubonic plague, one of many cities to succumb to…
“The Black Death.”
Things happened as if in stop motion. Mongol armies tossed their infected corpses into their warring Italian foes, who fled, taking the plague with them to Italy. It then spread into France and other ports north, including London.
Phoenix and three others she didn’t recognize watched helplessly from the sky as the plague ships landed at port after port, spreading the disease. It spread throughout Europe, taking the continent down like Asia shortly before that. “You caused it?”
“The Demonos caused it. Challenge happens simultaneously; we all fight at the same time. In this case all four of us failed, making a final Challenge unnecessary. We lost, and therefore the humans paid.”
Rachel studied him. “If only one of you loses then what happens?”
“We all fight again. It is the way of Challenge. If we all win or we all lose, then there is nothing further until the next time, but if only one loses then we all fight again. If we win that final battle then all is won, but if we lose that one, as we did in the Second World War, then we have lost.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“It is the way of Challenge.”
Even in telepathy, his voice was flat. She filed that away for another time, the bubbling questions put aside. The image of the Black Death still danced in front of her. Over one third of London’s population sickened. Their skin blistered and blackened and corpses littered the streets, continuing to spread the disease, families torn apart. People killed animals out of fear, not realizing they kept at bay the rats that had the fleas that spread the disease. She watched as both continents lost so much of their population that it would take over a century to recover from the devastation. “This was a Challenge?”
“Yes.”
She continued to watch, seeing the plague sweep the continents until it settled down. Always there were Phoenix and the other Elementals, hovering, watching. Then there were the Demonos, crowing their delight as human populations were decimated, leaving behind a shattered populace.
It appeared to be happening in fast motion, like a movie on an old-style projector. When Challenge was finally over and the Demonos disappeared, Phoenix gave a start and took to the air. His flight took him to the top of Mount Aconcagua, the highest mountain in the Andes. Phoenix just sat, unmoving, for an indeterminate length of time.
Active magma and licks of flame bubbled in the caldera deep inside the mountain. The color was bright red, similar to the red of his wings.
It was time to go to the fire.
He didn’t hesitate. He only shrugged, rose to his feet and soared upwards. Higher and higher he flew and then, with a sudden, swift bank, turned until he was headed straight for the lava. Rachel cringed as he got closer and closer, the heat buffeting his body. The noise of the active magma was similar to a slow-boiling pot of fudge—bloop, bloop. It would have been beautiful if it weren’t so deadly.
If it hurt, she could not feel that emotion inside him. Perhaps after several times the pain was no longer an issue.
“Perhaps there are some things you’re better off not knowing.”
Burning, burning, his flesh catching fire, streaking off his body until just his skeleton remained. The feathers of his wings turned black and then fell until he was nothing but a skeleton. That too gave way, shattering in the intense heat. He was dead, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, never to be seen anymore.
But then, high above the volcano, the ash fused. First an unrecognizable lump of gray, it quickly separated into a form. His body knit back together. Skeleton, bone and tendons regrew, organs, skin and blood returned. He returned to human and then rose from the ash of his prison, his voice still the harsh caw of his bird form. Phoenix beat his wings higher and higher, away from the heat of the volcano, surging
up into the night, crying out. The cry became a hoarse shout of a human, part legend and part man, until he fell from the sky, recovering himself enough to glide back into the safe house nearby, where he could finish putting himself back together.
Rachel knew that she should be scared. Fire fascinated her, called to her as if it was something she should have known all along. The knowledge of what lay in her subconscious, now coming to the forefront, and her fire abilities gave her strength. The idea of her controlling fire was wonderful and terrifying. Part of her embraced it and part of her wanted to run for the nearest mountaintop.
“If you’re going to go to a peak, a volcano like Masaya would be more appropriate,” Phoenix said, his voice amused.
Mary had a little lamb. She clamped down on her wayward thoughts and the background noise smoothed out. His mind receded until they were two separate minds. Mostly.
She held up her hands, and her fingertips flickered with fire. Yes.
“Rachel. You know it’s too late to run. It was too late the moment you arrived in San Francisco.”
She concentrated on the fire. She wanted it to grow and leap to life, and mingle with his to create a large flame, one that could burn down the night. Rachel swallowed as the fire receded, once again focusing on Phoenix.
“In all the lives I’ve led, all the centuries I’ve lived, I’ve never had a woman involved in Challenge before. For the most part the decades pass uneventfully. Sometimes there are fights, and we win or lose, and there is a punishment or a reward. Mostly we live side by side with the Demonos, and the shapeshifters and other paranormals live their lives without interference from us. We observe and occasionally direct the flow of history. We hope when we make changes it will help our cause, but it doesn’t always turn out that way.”
“How—” Her voice was harsh, and Rachel cleared her throat. “How do you guys live, all those years? How do you get money, places and lives?”
He chuckled. “You haven’t met Sphynx. Shani, the female of the duo, aside from being an incredible fighter, has the ability to see trends far into the future. She set up trusts and intricate holdings a long time ago. Elemental, Inc. is a fully operational company, with employees and many parcels of land, bank accounts and much more. Even if we all died tomorrow, the company would continue for decades without realizing anything was wrong. The other part, the ability to function in the modern world, is trickier, especially now that the digital age is upon us. But we manage.”
She swallowed again. “And me? What am I? Besides an Ifrit?”
“Your memories should start coming back, now that we have broken through the block that held them at bay.” He rose, still holding her hands, and she rose with him. “Googling Ifrits won’t tell you much,” he said gently, nodding to the computer.
JT chose that moment to come out of the bedroom, meowing faintly. She smiled at the cat and broke contact to go pick him up. He butted her neck and kneaded her arm for several moments before pushing his paws at her to be let down.
They watched the small feline trot into the kitchen. Rachel turned to Phoenix again, knowing her question was in her eyes, even while she was keeping her mind clamped down.
He perched on the arm of the couch. “In legend, an Ifrit is a large winged creature, mostly evil, that can manipulate fire and do many other things. They are also called Djinns, and litter many folkloric tales. The Arabian Nights, for one. In reality, Ifrits generally keep to themselves, generally marry each other and tend to live in sparsely populated areas. The desert is the most popular spot. Many are winged; some are not. What I—what we—need to figure out is what powers you have and why you were made to forget. I think you have a relative who protected you. Your parents died fifteen years ago?”
Rachel’s reply was a short flick of her chin.
“Hmm.” Phoenix said.
The “hmm” was so deep with meaning that Rachel paused in the act of opening her mouth. She thought for a minute, turning things over in her mind. Then an idea, clear and sharp, hit her. It was right, and also very wrong at the same time. Wrong because if she was right, she had been in this game, without being aware of it, for longer than she had imagined. “How long have you been in San Francisco?”
He smiled grimly. “You are beginning to understand. We both are. I decided to come here seven years ago on the force of an impulse so strong it couldn’t be ignored. I didn’t know why, but I do now.”
“Around the time I was kicked out of my foster home and made my way here.” She said it flatly.
“It’s tied in.” He went to the window and looked out over the horizon, to the edge of the water, as far as he could see. “You’re a part of this, whether you like it or not.”
“Maybe I can help fix it.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe it shouldn’t be fixed. I would never say this to her, but maybe Haures was right.”
She stared at him. “What…what do you mean?”
“I’ve been alive for a thousand years. I’ve seen things, so many things. I’ve seen mankind’s cruelty; I’ve seen things that would curl your toes. You’re here. That’s all I need. Maybe you’re here to give me a companion after this is all over.”
* * * * *
He stretched his wings, feeling the air under them. He hadn’t flown for a while, content to stay at home and tend to his needs. He kept a watchful eye on Kamal and the family, but they had shown no inclination to take revenge for his actions. The council hadn’t condoned it but they hadn’t punished him either, and both combined made Farouk confident he had done the right thing.
Now he knew why. The mental voice was unmistakable, a hint of the woman he had once thought to marry before she had so treacherously given herself to a human. Now he understood why Kamal had acted so calm these years. He had a secret. How the daughter had escaped, Farouk had no idea, but it was inconceivable that it would be allowed to stand.
His wings creaked slightly, years of neglect in the stiff tendons. The strong leather in between needed tending after the disuse, and he had found salve to see to the material. It would have been easier if he hadn’t had to hide his intentions from his family, but if his plans were revealed, his clan would be honor-bound to report him.
He had done nothing wrong, but he had been lucky to escape censure. He had righted a wrong, fixed an abomination, or thought he had. There was work yet to be done.
Not yet, he told himself. He needed a few more cycles to regain his full strength to be able to tackle the job ahead. This time, when he went to finish the job, he would make sure it was done all the way. This time, when the job was finished, the clans would see that he had done the right thing and applaud him.
This time, there would be no survivors.
Chapter Seven
“You’re not serious. Elementals are supposed to save the world.”
Phoenix squared his shoulders and shook his head. His mind was blocked from her, and she had no idea what he was thinking.
“It’s unimportant. What is important is finding out the truth about you.”
The stiffness of his body told her this was not the time to pursue this line of questioning. Unsure whether she should believe him, Rachel filed the comment away for future attention. Then the memory of the car accident drew her back. “Why don’t I remember? Why don’t I know?”
He turned to look at her and his big body almost filled the window, blocking the view.
“Why don’t I have wings if I’m what I saw in that vision? Why don’t I have more…power?” Her body heated again, and part of her wanted to be that winged creature with the power of fire at her command. She yearned for it, like it was a part of her she hadn’t known was missing until this moment.
Phoenix shrugged, his shoulders flexing. “There was something there, interfering, maybe protecting. I’m not sure. As to your wings, not all Ifrit have them.”
“Shouldn’t
I look more…different?”
Another shrug.
Heat warmed her face as her temper started to fray. The visions Phoenix had teased from her mind made her feel off-balance, like a wobbling top. She dashed across the room to him, her face heating with anger. “I am so confused.”
Rachel did the only thing she could think of. She kissed him.
Phoenix reacted, his arms immediately closing around her. His tongue sought hers, probing, demanding a response, which she gave, meeting his desire with a hot, burning need of her own. It flared like fire between them, passion that came to life instantly.
He broke off the kiss only to nibble on her ear. His breath was warm, and she shuddered with wanting him. She had to have him. She was projecting desire and she didn’t care.
He chuckled. “Come, Rachel. I want you so much. This Phoenix is hungry.” His hips thrust against hers, leaving her no doubt of his fierce arousal.
“Yes. Now. Now.”
“Hungry Ifrit too.” His laugh was fierce and possessive, tinged with hunger. Phoenix lifted her and kissed her. His lips moved over hers until she let out a breath and opened her lips to his.
With Phoenix she was a queen. All the pent-up passion inside her could finally be expressed without fear. But her desire, her needs, were so intense she thought maybe even an immortal Phoenix couldn’t deal with it.
“I can deal with it, Rachel. Give me everything. I need all you have. I have to have it,” he said on a fervent whisper.
“Aleric.” She leaned against him. “What I feel, it scares me.”
He gathered her body into his arms, pulling her legs around his waist, and started kissing her neck. “It should scare you. I should scare you.”
“You do. But I want you so much. How is it possible for me to feel both?’
He paused and ran his hand over her neck and shoulders before replying. “Because you’re a half human dealing with an Elemental. You are doing better than most.”