Phoenix

by Jessica Wayne

  “Yeah. See you later, Ophelia.” Anastasia turned, desperate to get as far away from her as possible. There was just something about her that was eating at Anastasia.

  Curious, Anastasia made her way to Tony’s cabin. The man was already up and sitting on his porch, enjoying a hot cup of tea.

  “Morning, Anastasia. You’re up early.”

  She took a seat beside him. “You too.”

  He shrugged but didn’t respond right away. “Want some tea?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

  “No, thanks; already had some.” Damn she missed coffee. Every single day.

  “What’s bothering you?”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Just a guess. You look a little more in thought than usual.” He grinned, and Anastasia shot him an amused glance.

  “I’ll have you know I spend a lot of time ‘in thought’.”

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m sure you do.”

  “I just—Tony, have you ever had a gut feeling that something was off? That you were missing bigger pieces of a picture?”

  He nodded.

  “What do you typically do?”

  “Look for the pieces. What’s bothering you now?”

  “Ophelia.”

  “Ahhh, yes.”

  “You agree?”

  “I’ve gotten pretty damn good at reading people over the years. I’ve seen sadness, fear, anger, pain, just about every emotion you can see on those who are grieving. Ophelia does not strike me as a woman who is grief stricken.”

  “Right!” Anastasia threw up her hands.

  “Now, it is possible she’s simply blocking the pain.”

  “But you don’t think so.”

  “I don’t know. Did you talk to Shane?”

  “Why Shane?”

  “She seems to have taken a liking to him—sorry.” He added when he saw the tight smile she knew was on her face.

  “It’s not that.”

  “I just know you two used to—see each other.”

  “Four years ago.”

  “All right, all right. No need to get defensive and kick my ass over it.”

  Anastasia let out a laugh. Tony was nearly three times her size, there was no way in hell she could kick his ass, even if she wanted to.

  “I really don’t trust her, Tony.” All humor gone from her voice, she spoke softly so no one would overhear their conversation.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to go back to her village. I want to see for myself where she was hiding.”

  Tony nodded and got to his feet. “We don’t have anything going on today, just some basic training with the new Fighters. Why don’t you take Kaley and head out there? See what you can find.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, watch your back and take someone with you if you can.”

  “Okay, thanks Tony.” She pulled him in for a hug and stepped down off the porch.

  “Be careful, Anastasia.”

  “I will.” She smiled, then began her trek to the stables.

  The more she thought about it, the more Ophelia’s story just didn’t line up. The day they had found her in the wreckage of her house, she told them she’d been hiding in a cellar, that she hadn’t come across the Brutes, and that they had just passed by her cellar without looking in. But Ophelia had been bleeding pretty badly and was covered in cuts and bruises.

  Originally, Anastasia brushed it off, believing Ophelia must have injured herself while climbing out through the wreckage, but now she wondered if they missed something. They’d been pretty distracted with the idea of a survivor, so it was possible that important details had been overlooked.

  “Hey, wait up!”

  Anastasia turned to see Shane headed toward her. She stopped and waited for him to catch up.

  “Tony said you were heading back to Ophelia’s village. Want some company?”

  Damn you, Tony. I bet you’re just laughing your ass off right now. “Sure.” They made their way into the stable and saddled two horses.

  After walking them out through the front gate, Anastasia and Shane climbed on and made their way into the tree line.

  “So what do you think we’re going to find?” he asked.

  “Honestly, I have no clue. Either something that proves her story, or something that condemns her.” She pushed her horse into a gallop, with Kaley running beside her through the trees and Shane following closely behind on the dirt path.

  The air outside was cold this morning, and the chill had her using her free hand to wrap the cloak more tightly around her body. The horse’s breaths were coming out in puffs of air as they moved, and the clouds overhead were doing nothing to allay her unease. Something was off.

  Anastasia stopped, holding up her hand for Shane to do the same. By her best guess, they were within a one mile radius of Ophelia’s village.

  “What is it?” he whispered.

  “Not sure.” She climbed off her horse, and he followed. “I think we need to go the rest of the way on foot.”

  They led the horses to a stream nearby and left them to graze on the green grass.

  The village looked the same as it had the day they’d discovered the wreckage. Anastasia tried her best not to focus too intently on the graves they’d dug, but instead made her way over to where she’d discovered Ophelia.

  “I’ll do a quick perimeter check,” Shane informed her, and Anastasia nodded curtly.

  Anastasia kicked a board away that would have at one point been part of the house the woman claimed to live in. When she moved it, she saw the stained fabric remnants of a small teddy bear. Could have belonged to one of the village children, but after further investigation, Anastasia found a doll and a small wooden horse.

  A child lived here, but Ophelia made no mention of one.

  “We’re in the clear,” Shane said as he moved to stand beside her.

  Kaley followed, pacing the ground around them anxiously as if she sensed something no one else could.

  Anastasia pulled the heavy wooden door open and the smell of death wafted up from beneath the house, smacking her in the face with a stench that made her body curl in on itself and sent a flood of saliva into her mouth. She choked, throwing her arm over her mouth to cough into her sleeve.

  Ophelia lied to us.

  Shane sputtered and stepped back, choking on the smell. “Fuck, man.” He groaned and stepped further away.

  “Keep watch.” Anastasia told him, then covered her nose and mouth with a handkerchief she pulled from her pocket. Trepidation sent a chill up her spine as she descended the stairs. Daylight poured through the cracks in the wooden ceiling, giving her just enough illumination to see her surroundings.

  Another lie. Ophelia had said it was pitch black in here.

  Three decaying bodies lay sprawled on the ground. Anastasia noticed a tiny frame hidden beneath the woman. Her heart broke for the mother who had been trying to protect her child. Anger filled her chest, and her body began to shake. What kind of monster did this? There was no damage from entry, and that simple fact made her think perhaps it wasn’t a monster at all, at least not the kind she was used to dealing with.

  Was a human responsible for this carnage? A wave of nausea passed over her, and Anastasia swallowed hard.

  Shane and Kaley jumped down into the cellar, and before Anastasia could speak, Shane put his finger up to his mouth.

  She partially climbed the ladder and opened the door slightly to look outside. Three-dozen Brutes marched into the village behind—

  She gasped, covering her mouth quickly.

  Maximus led the monsters. He had aged, and his face was harder than before, but Anastasia would have recognized him anywhere.

  “We wait here,” he bellowed. “Ophelia will make her move when the sun goes down, and then we will attack.” He smiled, standing taller. “Remember what the Master said. If you find the girl, she is to be taken alive. For now, at least.”

 
Anastasia’s hand moved to curl on the hilt of her sword. He would not walk away from her again. She began to push the cellar door further open, but Shane pulled her back.

  She slammed against his chest, and he pulled her further into the cellar.

  “You can’t take on three dozen of them and walk away, Anastasia,” he whispered. “Even with Kaley and I by your side, we can’t do it. We have to wait, and when they head for the village, we follow.”

  She turned her eyes up to his and saw the same anger she was feeling reflected on his face. “We won’t make it back in time, Shane.”

  “We won’t make it back at all if we try to fight them now.”

  He was right, and while she may have been willing to risk her own life, she wasn’t willing to risk his or Kaley’s.

  “Fine. We wait.” But the fear that gripped her heart suffocated her more than the stench of the dead that surrounded them.

  32

  Anastasia

  After what felt like an eternity, the Brutes finally marched out, and Anastasia, Shane, and Kaley climbed out of the cellar.

  “Go, girl.” She patted Kaley, and the feline took off into the darkness ahead of them.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  He spun the blade in a move that showed his advanced skill and smiled menacingly. “Let’s go get these bastards.”

  Anastasia nodded, and they headed into the trees. They crept through the dark, trying to make it around the marching Brutes so they could reach their horses and get to the village ahead of the army. Their numbers had doubled, and they weren’t even trying to be subtle.

  The fear blooming in her chest nearly burst. Why weren’t they worried about being heard? Did they already have the village surrounded?

  Shane crept alongside her with the same stealth she did. Kaley had yet to return to them, so Anastasia knew she must have gotten stuck behind a grouping as well.

  She watched as the numbers in front of her shrunk to half a dozen as the others moved deeper into the woods to join their brothers. Anastasia recognized the tactic from her studies with Gregory. These were the lookouts.

  They were nearing the stream where they’d left the horses, and she looked over at Shane, holding a finger to her lips. She gestured to the three that were on the left, and motioned for him to take the ones on the right.

  After a curt nod, Anastasia lunged for them and, with her knives, managed to take down two before the others had noticed. Blue blood dripped down her arms and was splattered on her face, but she paid it no notice. Kaley showed up just as Shane dropped the last of his group.

  Their horses waited, despite their nerves. They had pawed at the ground with their hooves, leaving large divests in the dirt.

  “Easy, boy,” she said gently, climbing onto the back of Revenue, the Appaloosa she favored.

  “We need to get back as quickly as possible,” Shane commented. “Which means we need to avoid any more fights.”

  “Agreed. They seem to be headed for the north gate; if we head for the south entrance, we might be able to sneak around and make it in time.”

  “Let’s go.” Shane pushed his horse into a run, and they raced through the trees toward home.

  When they reached the fence line, Anastasia’s jaw dropped.

  “Oh no, God, please no,” she whispered as she took in the scene before her.

  Fires had sprung up everywhere in the quiet village, and the screams of her people filled the air as Brutes tore through her home. She didn’t think any further, just jumped off her horse, launched through the gate, and threw herself into the attack.

  The first Brute came at her like a bullet, and she dodged, barely getting out of the way in time.

  “I had hoped to see you,” it growled, aiming its weapon at her. Before he could fire a shot, a blade protruded from its chest and Anastasia looked up to see the familiar face of Andrew, one of the Fighters.

  He offered her a curt nod and launched back into battle.

  “Anastasia, look out!”

  Thanks to Shane’s warning, Anastasia dodged a blade that had been meant for her chest. She spun around and shoved her own sword into the monster’s abdomen, then decapitated it with one swift move.

  She wasn’t sure how long she fought. Her muscles screamed in protest with each new attack, but she pushed on. These monsters were in her home, and she was going to make them pay for it.

  Anastasia sliced and jumped, praying that with each Brute she dispatched she would get one step closer to Maximus. She was going to put him down like she should’ve done all those years ago.

  She spotted him leaving his mother’s cottage, wiping blood from his blade. Anastasia growled and ran for him, dodging Fighters as they sliced at the Brutes. She jumped over fallen bodies with nothing but Maximus’s face in her mind. Ophelia’s laugh drew her attention down a street to her left and Anastasia turned to follow her. With every footstep, she grew closer to Anastasia’s home.

  Family was more important than revenge, and Gregory was all the family she had left.

  Revenge would wait.

  She crept slowly behind Ophelia, keeping to the shadows. Her heart pounded, and blood drummed loudly in her ears, but she maintained her breathing as she’d been taught to do during her Fighter training.

  Ophelia paused in front of Gregory and Anastasia’s home, looking up at the small structure for a moment. As she reached for the doorknob, Anastasia stepped out from the shadows, gripping her blades. She crouched, ready to pounce—

  A massive hand circled her throat, cutting off her air as her entire body lifted off the ground. She dropped her blades as she kicked her feet and swung her arms but connected with nothing. She clawed at the hand around her neck, desperate for air as her lungs burned in desperation, but the beast didn’t loosen his grip, and before long, white spots started to dance before Anastasia’s eyes. Soon, darkness claimed the edges of her vision, closing in until only a small circle of vision remained, and in that circle, she watched in horror as Ophelia stepped inside her home.

  As her eyes closed, she—

  “Release her!” Shane yelled.

  Anastasia hit the hard ground with a thud, gasping for air and blinking as her vision cleared. Shane battled the Brute who’d captured Anastasia, swinging his sword with artful precision as though it were an extension of his own body.

  She coughed, fighting to fill her lungs with oxygen. How long had she been delayed? She had to get to Gregory. She tried to stand, but wobbled, leaning against the wall for support and fighting to get her balance and her bearings back so she could fight alongside her father.

  33

  Gregory

  Gregory stepped out of his bedroom, ready to join the fray, then stopped dead in his tracks as Ophelia shut the front door of his house.

  He glanced at the dagger in her hand, then met her gaze. “It seems we were right to distrust you.”

  She shrugged. “Not all of you felt that way.” She wiped her dagger across her thigh, smearing crimson blood across her pants. “Man, it feels good to be out of that stupid dress. Do you have any idea how hard it is to take down a grown man—or rather three—in a skirt?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Your daughter.” She grinned. “She and I have some things to discuss.”

  “Well, as you can see, Anastasia isn’t here.” He kept his voice steady, but allowed the power inside his veins to grow. She would not get her hands on Anastasia.

  “I guess we’ll have to occupy ourselves then, won’t we?”

  “I guess so.” He lifted his palms and conjured the light magic that, until tonight, had only been used to entertain. He formed a glowing orb in his palm and heaved it at the intruder.

  Ophelia dodged the blast, laughing. “Yes! I love a good fight. Bring it on, old man.”

  Gregory threw another ball of light at her, and she lunged toward him, knocking him backwards. His head hit the table, stunning him briefly.

  Ophelia jumped on top of him and drove
the blade down into his abdomen. Sharp pain shot through his body, and he cried out. In his entire life, he never regretted not learning to conjure lethal magic—until now.

  “You know, he told me not to kill you,” she whispered as she stared down at him. “Told me that you would come around eventually.” She laughed and rose to her feet. “But, if you knew me at all, you’d understand that I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission.”

  Gregory reached for his power, but found none, his body using all of its energy to keep him alive.

  The front door opened and Anastasia burst in. His eyes landed on hers, and Gregory caught the first glimpse of the fire in her eyes. She’d become the powerful woman she was destined to be, and for the first time, he truly believed the prophecy.

  Anastasia, his very own daughter, would defeat his brother.

  “Took you long enough.” Ophelia glanced toward Anastasia as she cleaned the blood from beneath her fingernails with the blade she’d just driven through his gut.

  “You bitch,” Anastasia snarled. Gregory’s eyes widened as Anastasia’s skin began to glow, illuminated by the power running through her veins.

  “Stay focused, Anastasia.” He groaned and tried to sit up. Please don’t lose yourself now.

  “Shhh, this is our conversation,” Ophelia scolded him. “What is it with rude people? Now, where were we? Oh, yes, there really is no need for name calling, is there?”

  “Why?” Anastasia demanded. “Why would you do this?”

  “Why not?”

  “Those people in your village, why hurt them?”

  “Why not?” she repeated. “They were weak, useless. Well, I suppose not useless since their deaths did gain your trust.”

  “I never trusted you,” Anastasia growled.

  “But you brought me here, didn’t you?” Ophelia grinned.

  “Those people in the cellar, who were they?”

  Ophelia rolled her eyes. “My birth family. They were so weak, pleading for their lives as if they meant anything to me.”

  “Why would you kill your own family?”

  “Just because someone is blood, doesn’t make them family. When the Brutes raided our village when I was a child, did my family come looking for me? No, they left me out in the streets to fend for myself while they ran into the woods. The Brutes took me with the others they captured and forced me into a cage.” Ophelia growled. “Luckily, Master took a liking to me, and before long, he raised me as if I were his own flesh and blood. He made me all that I am today.”