by Lucy Auburn
As I give her the books, her eyebrows raise knowingly. “Interesting, or valuable?”
I have to bite back a bratty remark; I’m so used to being the street rat, I’ve forgotten how to be the grateful foster kid. But I’ll have to channel that girl for at least a little while if I want to get the headmaster’s trust so I can find a way to get rid of the connection between the demons and me.
“Sorry, Headmaster Towers.” I try to look contrite, and after a while, it’s not hard; she looks worried and upset as well as angry. “I know you just wanted what’s best for me. I just, uh, couldn’t quite... adjust to all of it. I didn’t feel like I deserved a place at the academy. I’m not used to being... welcomed anywhere.”
I have to swallow at how truthful that is, and ignore the fact that Ezra is looking at me with narrowed eyes, as if he can actually look into my soul even if Lynx can’t. Even Mateo looks like he pities me a little. Thankfully Sebastian doesn’t seem to care about what I’m saying; he’s wandering down one of the aisles and keeps trying to stab rice boxes with his knives, even though they just pass harmlessly through.
“Well. Truth be told, I’m relieved you’re alright.” She pulls at the bottom edge of her blazer and adjusts her glasses, and somehow seems to shake off her residual anger as she does so. “I’ll let everyone know you’re back safe, and the hunt can be called off. I’m just glad no Grim found you.”
“Actually.” A dead body planted face-down in Sticky’s attic, blonde hair drying in a pool of blood, comes to mind. “There was one little, uh, hiccup. Something the cops might find.”
“Oh? If you killed someone in self-defense, we have connections to help keep that quiet. Some things must stay between paranormals, after all.”
My mind whirs at this totally new information. “So you can keep the cops from arresting an innocent person who just happened to be near the scene of a paranormal murder?”
“Of course.” Turning smartly on her heel, she motions for me to follow her out the back, and I do. “If you’re worried about what happened the night you were activated, you needn’t be. Our team found the group of slaughtered bodies near the cliffs and made sure it was recorded as a terrible accident involving party drugs. Bath salts.” She waves her hand carelessly through the air. “They make people do crazy things.”
Sebastian looks offended. “They’re giving credit for my work to some human-invented angel dust? But I was so creative!”
“Yes, Sebastian,” Ezra drolly responds, “worry about who gets credit for ripping a guy’s dick and berries off his body. Not like we’re banished to the mortal plane, doomed to be incorporeal unless summoned by the anxiety of a newborn phoenix.”
I open my mouth to make a retort, only to realize the headmaster is looking at me. She’s stopped in front of the gate to the academy, fingers on the keypad, and seems to have said something I missed.
Thankfully, Lynx was listening while I was distracted. “She wants you to make up a unique six digit code so you can get back into the academy anytime you want. Apparently you’re not being expelled for having sticky fingers and running away with a bag full of candlesticks.”
I give him a nod of appreciation, which I hope doesn’t look too crazy, before answering Headmaster Towers. “One one two seven zero three.” She doesn’t need to know what it means, or why it matters to me.
“I’ll program it in,” she says, voice friendly, “there’s just one more thing I need from you.”
“A scan of my retina?”
“No, we already have that. There’s something else I need.” Suddenly her face is grave and serious again, her eyes slightly narrowed. “Your promise that you’ll stay in the academy, and do your best to study here to the best of your abilities. Not because there are those in the outside world who want to harvest your body for its heart, though I imagine that is what brought you back here. But because you understand that if you run away like this again, there will be consequences.”
I’m not sure I understand. “Consequences?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly I see something, an energy that lives beneath her skin, one she’s hidden until now. Red, glowing fire, which wraps her body from head to toe, pulsing at her shoulder blades as if it aches to leap across the space between us and burn me to a crisp—something it could do so fast I wouldn’t even feel myself burn.
I remember now what a Red Phoenix is; the words “powerful beyond measure” come to mind. No wonder she’s the headmaster, and everyone else works for her.
“If you leave again, Ms. Carpenter, I won’t send the other students after you, or the teachers.” The way she looks at me, there’s no doubting the promise of violence that lurks beneath her words. “I’ll come fetch you myself, and make sure you’re not able to sell anything of the Phoenix Academy to the highest bidder—including, especially, our secrets, which you will take with my trust or not at all. Is that understood?”
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. Even the demons are quiet, though I swear I see Mateo mouth the words burn you alive.
“Crystal clear, ma’am.”
“Good.” The energy snaps back beneath her skin in an instant, and her fingers dance across the keypad, letting us both in. “You’ll start classes first thing in the morning—if you’re tired during them, just remember it’s your own fault.” As we walk through the courtyard, she eyes me briefly. “And don’t forget to wear your uniform to class.”
“Of course.”
Just like that, I’m going back up the steps, to a place I thought I’d never see again.
As I walk to my old room, the headmaster’s eyes watching me the whole way, I can’t help but wonder: if Headmaster Towers has that much power living inside her, then what lives in me?
And why am I so afraid to find out?
Chapter 11
It turns out, people get a little frosty with the new girl when she’s the reason why they didn’t get any sleep before their early morning classes. They especially don’t like it if the truant and thief in question didn’t even get properly punished for her actions—though if you ask me, the way Headmaster Towers threatened me last night was more than punishment enough.
I can feel their eyes on me as I wander into breakfast, still wearing my street clothes. Everyone else is in uniform, but the headmaster said to wear my uniform to class, and I’ve got twenty minutes until that happens. Plenty of time to throw on a wool blend skirt and regret all my choices.
The demons aren’t with me this morning, thankfully, though their hovering presence kept me from feeling fully comfortable taking a shower last night. My hair is a little greasy as a result, but I’ve never sweated a little grease, and if I smell like a drug den, well—everyone is just going to have to deal.
Because I’m not sure I could’ve taken Sebastian’s intense blue eyes raking my naked body from head to toe again. It’s bad enough that he somehow found me in the bath house and got an eyeful of my body submerged underwater; a repeat of the whole thing, knowing he’s not a hallucination, is too much to imagine.
I still don’t know if the other three guys were also in the bathhouse when I saw him. I’ve been trying not to think about it, even though last night I had a dream that it was the five of us in the warm pool, the steam the only thing separating our bodies.
Dumb dreams.
Thankfully I’ve got an unlimited cereal bar to comfort me this morning. Ignoring the various glares and curious stares I get, I pile a tray with three bowls and fill each one with a different carb fest for me to enjoy. Let it never be said I don’t know a good deal when I’ve got one; if I’m going to be forced to stick around here for a while, I’ll definitely get in as many calories as I can.
Though I still don’t know how I’ll survive my first class. “Phoenix Fire Casting 101 with Yohan Cheng at 8:00 AM.” That’s what my schedule says, but how they expect me to get that, I have no idea.
Unless the class includes matches, lighter fluid, and a dirty bathtub full of soapy water,
in which case I’ve got the requisite experience and I’m ready to go.
“Hey, Dani!” I’m surprised when Olivia hops up next to me as I push my tray down the cereal bar, grabbing various chocolate and strawberry milks. “I heard you came back, and I’m so glad—I was worried something might’ve happened to you.”
I eye her curiously as I grab an orange juice to add to my collection, just to round it out. “Aren’t you mad at me? Everyone seems a little mad at me.”
“Them?” She glances around at the other students, head cocked to the side like a curious bird. “Oh, they’re just looking at you because you’re the first new phoenix we’ve had in a while. It gathers attention.”
I snort. “Sure, attention.”
“Okay, so, some of them might be a little peeved because you ran off, and you’re...”
The way she trails off, I sense there’s an undercurrent somewhere that I’m not getting. “Homeless? A street rat? Not super into uniforms?”
“Kind of? But it’s more that you’re not a legacy.” She bites her lower lip, cheeks reddening, then leans in to murmur, “Some of the other students don’t like those of us whose immediate family aren’t part of the school. It tends to draw... attention. And pressure. Not always the good kind. But they’ll warm up to you, I’m sure.”
I’m not; I have a history of freezing people rather than thawing them, especially when I start trouble, which is almost all the time. But at least now I know why I keep getting daggers to the back, and it makes sense. Rich, privileged kids hating kids like me is something I’m used to—especially when they think they deserve something I got “handed” for free. It’s no different than the way the kids at Fern Valley treated me when Sara got me enrolled in the fancy private school, and just like I survived that place, I’ll survive this place.
Unless the headmaster burns me to a little pile of ashes, which seems like something to worry about more than all these powerless students.
Olivia joins me at a table as I sit down to dig into my cereal, watching me curiously as she peels a banana and delicately slices it on top of her bowl of oatmeal. “That’s a lot of food. And there’s not much time until class starts...”
“I’m a fast eater.”
To demonstrate, I start eating.
And soon have eyes on me for more reason than one.
Yesterday, when they gave me the tour and I ate breakfast here, the place was pretty much empty. Today, not so much, and I’ve chosen to double down on eating food rather than swiping it to hide in my pockets and bags like I did last time. This means giving the whole dining hall a glimpse into how the other half lives—and eats.
Or at least, how I eat. Which is messily, fast, and as rudely as possible. By the time I’ve got a bowl of cereal downed and am picking up another, tipping it towards my open mouth, even Olivia looks a little put off.
“You know, we have spoons.”
“Yeah.” I swallow, grab one of the flavored milks, and pour it into my next bowl. The chocolate really adds something to the cornflakes and marshmallows. “I like this way better. It’s more efficient.”
She’s quiet the rest of the meal, which is just as well. My mouth is too full to answer.
When the show is over, I glance up at the clock helpfully provided on the wall, and Olivia’s mostly untouched bowl of oatmeal. “Ten minutes until class starts. You should probably finish.”
“Oh my god.” She blanches. “I was so busy watching you eat, I forgot to eat myself.”
Laughing, I shake my head and coach her through street rat fast eating, convincing her to tilt the bowl towards her mouth and shovel food inside it. By the time she’s done we’re both laughing, and there’s maybe five minutes until class.
Just enough time to get dressed, run up the stairs, and show my first teacher that I’m even more of a disappointment than anyone was expecting.
Phoenix fire class is, it turns out, held in a special room with a double entrance that seals out any errant flame—one that takes about thirty seconds just to decompress and open up the second door. By the time I’ve made it into the nearly barren classroom, I am, despite my best efforts, late.
Which doesn’t go unnoticed. “You’re late.” The teacher stands on the other side of the room, leaning against a completely empty metal table. There’s no sign of books in the class, or carpets, rugs, or anything else flammable.
Including other students. “Apparently I’m not the only one,” I observe.
“Incorrect,” he says, a frown crossing his face, which is severe and most certainly judging me, from the narrowed hazel eyes to the severe black hair. “Unless I’m mistaken, you’re Danielle Carpenter, first year phoenix—and the only phoenix in this graduating class. Which makes you the only student I have this morning, and the only one who’s late.”
Well. Today just got worse. “Dani,” I correct him, because as long as he’s mad at me, who cares about why. “I don’t answer to Danielle. And how can I be the only one?”
“Sit.”
There aren’t any chairs; nothing soft in here at all, apparently. So I sit cross-legged on the ground, because it’s clear the teacher of this class isn’t going to be the easygoing type, and the last thing I want is to make him angry in a room clearly built to withstand fire.
“Phoenix are rare. Most people, when they die—they just die.” He spreads his hands out and shrugs. “This is how it is. Those of us who do come back are hunted. And not just here in North America by Grims; where I grew up, in North China, phoenix hearts are revered for ancient Chinese medicine. When I fell off a roof and died as an eight-year-old boy, then came back to life moments later, it did not go unnoticed.”
A little shiver goes through me at the thought of dying during a fall as a kid. It was bad enough to leap from those cliffs, knowing what likely awaited me at the bottom; I can’t imagine the same for a child.
Leaning forward, Yohan asks me intently, “Do you know what happened next?”
“No.” I can’t imagine, but I’m sure he’s going to tell me. “What happened?”
“This.”
He steps out from behind the table and stands in front of me, a glint going through his eyes, giving me a sense of the life he must have lived: one full of anguish, pain, and ultimately, strength and understanding.
Then something ripples behind his shoulders, and suddenly he has wings.
I scramble to my feet and back away at the sight, transfixed, heart beating faster. They’re not just wings; like the energy field I’ve seen more and more these days, they glow, not just to my strange eye but out in the world, too. Made of red-orange fire, they unfurl behind his shoulders and stretch out at least five or six feet to either side, roiling with heat and energy.
Not just heat. Fire. I can feel it coming off of them; each tongue, like a feather, is a finger of fire unfurling in the air at his back. And just like fire, they’re alive, hungry for tinder and giving off little sparks that fall to the ground and extinguish harmlessly.
I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. It’s not just that they’re beautiful or majestic. When I look at them, I feel something stirring in my chest.
There’s a kinship there, like looking at a mirror.
They feel like they should be mine. Like I should spread my own wings from my back and face him. I’d wear a wool blend skirt every day if it meant having a pair just like them.
For the first time since all this began, I really and truly believe that I am what they say I am. And I want more than anything to be able to spread my wings and show them to the world.
I just hope that I really do have my own pair.
“Whoa.” The voice isn’t mine, or the teacher’s; it’s Mateo’s distinct eagerness that I recognize. “Those are some pretty intense phoenix wings. Lynx, did you know they get that big?”
“No. But he’s not a Red Phoenix—they’re normal phoenix wings. Maybe his spirit is just old and powerful, but I’ve never seen ones quite this big before.”<
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I don’t have to turn around to know all four of the demons are behind me. If they’re tied to my anxiety and come out when I feel threatened, like they claim, it’s no wonder; I’m standing alone in a room that’s now full of fire.
A moment later, Yohan rolls his shoulders, and the wings disappear to wherever it is they live just beneath his skin.
He continues his story. “When the medicine men came for me, I used my fire to drive them out. My sister and I fled our village, the only home we’d ever known, and sought safety in Hong Kong under new names. When that was no longer safe we went to Singapore, and finally here—the United States. This place, this school, is the only place where I’ve ever known safety. But without that fire, I would’ve never survived long enough to make it here. Which is why I’m going to teach you how to summon yours.”
I swallow past a lump in my throat, regretting my big breakfast. “You think I can do that?”
“I know that you can, Dani Carpenter. Now,” he settles in a cross-legged position on the floor, and motions for me to do the same, “let’s begin.”
The thing with the wings is, it turns out, not something you manage to do the first day. At least, not if you have four demons distracting you, each of them alternatively mocking, bored, restless, or far too curious—the latter mostly being Lynx, who kept interjecting with questions he wanted me to ask the teacher, like a fly buzzing around the room.
“How did his wings get so big?”
“Dani, ask him about his wings.”
“He mentioned a sister. Phoenix abilities are often genetic. I wonder if she’s one too.” I had to resist the urge to try to slap the demon at one point; I knew it wasn’t possible. “Dani, ask him if his sister is a phoenix.”
I ignored his questions—for the most part. A few, I grudgingly asked, mostly because I was curious how his wings got so big, too. Apparently practice makes perfect, which sucks for me, because all I managed to do was meditate through the irritation of being bugged by incorporeal demons.