Phoenix

by Jessica Wayne

  6

  Anastasia

  Anastasia’s head pounded when she opened her eyes. Quickly surveying her surroundings, she realized she was lying on a floral couch in her old living room, and dread pulled her stomach into a tight knot.

  Her heart thudded, how the hell had she gotten here? Memories of her father and two men coming into her apartment resurfaced and she pushed to her feet, still a little woozy from whatever had hit her in the head.

  “Look who’s awake, Monica! Our little girl,” Mitch sneered.

  Monica turned and beamed at her, her chocolate brown eyes lighting up with joy. “It’s so good to see you, honey. How are you feeling? Your father said you fell and hit your head.”

  “I want to leave.” Anastasia started for the door, but Mitch moved to block it.

  Sliding his hand over the knob, he said, “You aren’t going anywhere until he decides what he wants to do with you.”

  “What? Who?” How the hell was she going to get out of here? If she could only make it to a window, she might be able to scream.

  “You’re becoming more trouble than you’re worth,” her father said with a smile. “So, now it’s time to reevaluate our situation.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He left the door and marched over to her. She winced away when he raised his hand, but she didn’t move fast enough, and it cracked against her cheek. Her eyes watered from the sting, but Anastasia bit down on the insides of her cheeks to keep from crying out. She would not give him the satisfaction.

  “Watch your mouth.” His phone rang, and he answered it quickly. “Hello?”

  Anastasia turned her attention away from him and back to the room. Where were the two men from before? Were they waiting outside, just in case she managed to get out?

  “So.” Mitch hung up his phone and turned back to her. “Seems we have some time before he gets here to take you in.”

  “Who is he?” Anastasia eyed the door, he was far away from it now that if she was able to get around him, she might stand a chance. That was as long as the two men from earlier weren’t waiting outside.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “No, I sure as hell won’t.” She moved for the door, and Mitch grabbed her arm.

  “Get off of me!” she yelled. She pulled her free hand back and punched him in the face. The contact split her knuckle open, and she looked down in surprise as pain radiated through her hand.

  Did she seriously just punch her father?

  “You will pay for that, you little bitch.” He charged her, and Anastasia stumbled over the coffee table. Before she could get to her feet, something struck her back, and she cried out in pain. The sharp sting surged through her body, and she tried to get to her feet again. “You will show me respect!” he yelled.

  Another blow knocked her back to the ground, and Anastasia screamed. She could feel it tearing her shirt, and splitting her skin. Blood had spilled from her wounds, and she could see it staining the white carpet beneath her.

  Her vision swam as he beat her, and eventually she became so dazed from the pain, it was impossible to move. Is this how I’m going to die? Dakota and I finally move past the friend zone, and now it’s all over?

  The room filled with a bright light, and Anastasia focused on the form that had appeared on the other side of the room. She couldn’t make out his features, but watched curiously as he raised a hand. Her father was ripped away from her and slammed into the wall, and Anastasia tried to push to her feet.

  Was this who he’d said was coming for her?

  Her father stood, and Anastasia managed to crawl out of reach of him.

  “You,” her father growled.

  The man moved across the room, and stood between Anastasia and her father, his long cloak pooling around his feet. His back was to her, but she recognized the cloak, so out of place for modern-day Seattle.

  “Me,” the man said. With a dramatic flick of his wrist, Mitch was thrown from the room into the hall.

  He got to his feet quickly and marched back toward them, his face twisted into rage. Just as he was about to cross the threshold into the living room, he slammed into an invisible barrier and was thrown back again.

  “Oh, Anastasia.” The man she’d waved to on the street that afternoon turned to her. His blue eyes were kind, and in them, Anastasia witnessed a mixture of pain and fear. “I’m so sorry I was late.” He knelt in front of her and closed his eyes, holding his palm toward her. The pain in her back lessened, and she stared at him wide-eyed.

  His dark hair was greying at the temples and cut just below his ears so it swayed lightly when he moved. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken a few times, but it added character to his face.

  She should have been afraid, but when Anastasia looked into his kind eyes, her pulse slowed. “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “Someone who will make sure you are never harmed this way again.” He stood, reaching to touch her face, but she jerked back.

  “Anastasia,” he began, “please don’t fear me. I will protect you, but we must go now.”

  A gunshot rang through the room, causing Anastasia’s ears to ring. Whatever had been holding Mitch out of the room disappeared, and he stepped inside. She shook her head, and the ringing faded just enough that she could hear Mitch yelling loudly.

  “You are not welcome here!” He aimed the gun at the stranger.

  The man moved to block Anastasia with his body. “You should be happy I don’t slaughter you where you stand.” He snapped his fingers and the gun disappeared from her father’s hand.

  Mitch stared down at his empty hand, shocked.

  The man waved his arm again, flinging her father back into the hall. He tossed a vial down on the ground, and Anastasia tried to scramble to her feet as a swirling blue light appeared in the living room.

  The stranger held out his hand. “Anastasia, please, we are doomed without you, and you will die if you stay.”

  She swallowed hard, placing her hand in his. He was her only option, and wherever he was taking her was better than the alternative, which at this point she was pretty sure would be death. Once she was away from Mitch and out of harm’s way, she could go to Dakota and tell him what happened, and then maybe George could finally arrest her father.

  Mitch charged into the room, and Anastasia tightened her grip on the stranger’s hand. He smiled, and together, they stepped into the light.

  She felt weightless as the light took her into its embrace. She could see nothing, hear nothing, and the only feeling she had was of the man’s hand laced with hers. The light was so bright Anastasia had to close her eyes.

  Had her father actually killed her? Was this some kind of illusion brought on by the tendrils of death?

  “Am I dead?” she whispered into the emptiness.

  The man laughed lightly. “No, my dear Anastasia, you are very much alive.”

  7

  Mitch

  “Fuck!” Mitch pulled the phone from his pocket. This was bad, this was so bad. How the hell was he supposed to explain this?

  He tapped the contact he wanted to call, and after ringing twice, a deep voice answered. “Hello?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “What do you mean gone? Did you kill her?”

  He took a deep breath. There was no use in lying; it wasn’t like he’d get away with it. “No, sir, she is still alive. Rescued by a man who just so happened to appear in my house with a fucking portal.”

  “You let him take her?” the man roared on the other end of the line.

  “No, I didn’t let him! I brought her here just like you asked me to and he used magic to subdue me! I had no choice.”

  “You had better hope I can eliminate this threat, Mitch. Or you will pay dearly for your mistake.” The line went dead, and Mitch threw his phone across the room. It smashed against the wall, and he turned to see Monica standing in the doorway.

  “What the hell are you doing i
n here?”

  “Did she get away?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Yes,” he growled.

  “Good.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm.

  “What the hell do you mean ‘good’?”

  “I think it was about time she got away from here.”

  “Do you have any idea what this means for us?”

  Monica nodded. “But it’s better than having to watch you kill that poor girl.”

  He tightened his grip on her arm. “You had better hope things turn out okay for me after this mistake or I swear I’ll drag you down with me.”

  She straightened. “Then do it. It’s only what I deserve after what I was forced to witness for the last twenty years.” She ripped her arm out of his hand and headed back down the hall.

  8

  Terrenia

  Anastasia

  The weightless feeling disappeared in an instant, and Anastasia opened her eyes. She stood beside the stranger in a small room filled with light that poured in from open windows. The walls, ceiling, and floor were wooden, reminding her of the cabin she’d often visited with Dakota and his family.

  A couch made of wooden logs sat in the center of the room, decorated with cushions that looked as if they’d been hand sown. The kitchen was made up of wooden countertops, a large washbasin, shelves of handcrafted dishes, and a fireplace with a Dutch oven hanging from a bar inside.

  She gaped at her surroundings, feeling like she somehow stepped back in time and stood in one of the pioneer villages she’d visited on field trips as a kid.

  The man pulled his hand from her grip, rubbing it with his free hand.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. She hadn’t realized she’d been gripping his hand so hard.

  “Not a problem. Portals are not easy the first few times you take them.”

  “Portals?”

  He nodded and opened the door. “Welcome to Terrenia.”

  Anastasia stepped out into the fresh open air, and her mouth fell open. The tallest trees she had ever seen surrounded her. Brightly colored birds sang as they flew through the clear blue sky, and beautifully colored flowers swayed in a warm breeze.

  “You must be starving. Let’s go see my wife first. She can heal those nasty cuts on your back.”

  She’d nearly forgotten about her injuries.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Gregory Silvan.”

  “Where are we?”

  “We are in Terrenia. Our village is at the center of this world, but there are others that are scattered throughout the land.”

  “Terrenia?”

  “It’s difficult to explain, but I will do my best.” He folded his arms behind his back and began to lead her down the path. “You have no doubt heard of dimensions in your studies?”

  She nodded. “It’s theorized that there are ten separate ones.”

  “There are actually many more than that, but the exact numbers are unknown. Your scientists have yet to discover the others that actually contain life. Our world is in a dimension that runs parallel to yours; we are about ten hours ahead on time, which is why it’s daylight here, and nighttime back in Seattle.”

  “How do I know any of this is real?”

  “Good question.” He stopped and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to your heart; what is it telling you?”

  She took a deep breath. “That this is real, but my head doesn’t believe it just yet.”

  Gregory grinned. “It usually takes some time before our heads catch up with our hearts.” He released her, and they continued walking.

  In the distance, Anastasia heard the loud giggling of children playing, and the sound soothed her.

  “So, we came here in a portal?”

  “Yes. It’s a way to briefly connect the worlds. The portals I use only last for a few moments before they close.”

  “There are different types?”

  “I promise I will explain everything to you once you’ve had time to rest. I cannot imagine how overwhelming this must be.”

  “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to throw my father back into the hallway.”

  “That man deserved much more than I gave him.” His voice deepened to a growl. “But, as to your question, I used magic.”

  “Magic is real?” She stopped, and he turned to face her.

  He raised an eyebrow. “How else would you explain everything?”

  “I have no clue. Head trauma?”

  His eyes grew dark. “I will never let him harm you again.”

  “I’m sorry; I guess that was a bad joke, considering I might very well have some.” She shrugged, and they continued walking. “What did you mean when you said you were doomed without me?”

  “Long ago, a seer foretold of a prophecy about a woman who would be the only hope against the coming Darkness that would spread throughout the worlds. It was said that she would be more powerful than anyone would know, and although she had suffered at the hands of evil, she would rise above it with strength that would carry her into victory.”

  “Wait a minute.” Anastasia stopped. “Please tell me you don’t honestly think that was about me.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I am no one. A girl from Seattle who likes to write and read. I’ve never done anything of any meaning. Shit, I’m barely passing my classes in college.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “Everyone is someone, Anastasia. Sometimes it just takes a bit of time to figure out who that person is.”

  They began walking again, and Anastasia winced as the pain in her back returned. She ground her teeth, refusing to give in, even though each step she took sent the pain radiating through her body. Finally, the trees cleared, revealing a large group of small cottages similar to the one they’d portaled into.

  Children ran around, laughing and smiling, while adults doing various chores smiled and watched on. Tables were positioned around a large fire pit that still smoldered from the night before.

  As she and Gregory approached the villagers, heads began to turn toward them and conversation slowed. Some villagers smiled gently, while others just watched intently as they passed.

  Feeling self-conscious, Anastasia wrapped her arms around herself. She stuck out like a sore thumb in her sleep shorts and tank top. The women here wore long dresses, some with short sleeves, and others with longer half sleeves. The men were dressed in long pants and loose shirts.

  Anastasia was someone who did her best to blend in, and now she stood out.

  A young boy ran up to them and smiled brightly. He had a scrape on his chin, and his cheeks were spotted with tiny freckles that matched his light brown hair. He looked to be about twelve or thirteen, but his eyes seemed older to her.

  “Hi, I’m Brady.” He stuck his hand out, and she took it gently.

  “Hi, Brady, I’m Anastasia. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Is this her?” he whispered out of the side of his mouth to Gregory.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Brady’s eyes widened, and he released her hand. “She’s pretty,” he whispered, and Anastasia smiled.

  “Yes, she is, now go on and find your mom. Tell her Annabelle has some herbs for her.”

  “On it!” he called over his shoulder as he ran off.

  “What a sweet boy,” Anastasia said with a smile as they continued walking toward one of the houses.

  “That he is, and a smart one, too. Takes good care of his mom and younger sister Sarah since his father died about three months back. It’s so sad the number of children around here who have lost their parents recently.”

  Before she could ask what he meant, the door to the house in front of them opened and one of the most elegant women Anastasia had ever seen waved to them.

  “There’s my wife,” Gregory said with pride as they stepped up onto the porch. “Hi, my love.” He kissed her loudly on the cheek, and t
he woman blushed. “Anastasia, this is my wife, Annabelle. Wife of mine, meet Anastasia.” He stepped aside, and Anastasia felt her own face flushing as Annabelle stared at her, tears filling her eyes. Not wanting to see the pity reflecting in the other woman’s eyes, Anastasia stared down at her hands and began to fidget with the hem of her shirt.

  Do I look that bad?

  Annabelle wiped her eyes. “It is so wonderful to meet you.” She reached forward and took one of Anastasia’s hands in her own. “So incredibly wonderful.”

  Gregory cleared his throat. “Anastasia needs some healing.”

  “Oh, yes, of course! Come in, dear.”

  “I’ll be just outside.”

  “Thank you, Gregory. I’ll take good care of her.”

  Annabelle ushered Anastasia inside and sat her on a stool near a roaring fire. The warmth soothed her aching body, and Anastasia closed her eyes for just a moment before opening them again and watching Annabelle.

  The woman’s dark hair was braided down her back, and strands of silver had woven their way through her hair. She was slender, and the blue gown she wore matched the lightness of her crystal eyes.

  She worked over a pot on the counter, grinding up some herbs and mixing them into a paste.

  “So, how was the trip through the portal?” she asked as she stirred the paste.

  “It was interesting.” Anastasia tried to move, but winced when her back seized up. Whatever Gregory had done to help mask the pain back in her room was clearly starting to wear off.

  “Gregory certainly has fun with them.” She smiled and knelt in front of Anastasia. “This is a cream made from calendula. It will help speed up the healing process and give you some mild pain relief.” She smiled and then said awkwardly, “Honey, I need you to remove your shirt so I can get to the nasty marks on your back.”

  “How did you…?”

  “You were hunching.”

  “Oh, okay.” Anastasia very gently lifted the shirt over her head and held it to cover her chest.

  “Oh, you poor thing.” The sorrow in her voice had tears stinging Anastasia’s eyes. “I’m afraid these are going to scar.”