Among the Debris (Son of Rain #2)

by Michelle Irwin

  She’d killed my sister and for what?

  I released another cry of primal rage, allowing my pent-up emotions to flow through the strangled sound.

  Why?

  Both my hands found their way into my hair as I paced across the room, unable to escape from the torture of the truth. Tears pricked my eyes and every second of my time with Evie played out in front of my eyes, the visions tainted by the evidence of her trickery.

  Zarita knocked on the door before pushing it open with caution.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “She lied to me!” I shouted, without looking at Zarita. “She made me love her, and she fucking lied! How could she do that? How could she force me to feel those things? How can you just screw someone over like that? I thought she loved me!”

  Hot tears welled in my eyes, and my voice was hoarse from the volume of my cries.

  “Tell me how!” I demanded of no one in particular in a shout that tore strips from the lining of my throat.

  “Clay, look at me,” Zarita murmured. Her soft voice cut through the angry haze, and I broke down. I fell to my knees and the full force of the hatred I felt hit me hard and then dissipated instantly. Even in that moment—even having found black and white evidence of what she’d done—I couldn’t hate Evie, and that made me want to so much more.

  Forcing my palms into my hair, I twisted my fingers into the mess. I balled my hands into fists around clumps of brown strands and tugged hard. The hope was physical pain would distract me from the ache in my heart, but it didn’t. Nothing could.

  I drew my arms around my legs and rocked softly to comfort myself. Tears I wouldn’t let fall in any other circumstance streamed down my cheeks.

  “Why would she do this?” I asked in a broken whisper.

  “What happened?” Zarita’s voice was still soft. She placed her hand on my shoulder. It was the softest touch, and yet it forced more anguish to pour from my broken and battered heart and escape from me in gasping breaths.

  I couldn’t tell her the truth. How could I explain that I had just discovered the phoenix I was in love with had forced me to feel that way? Especially to someone who thought all of her research was about nothing more than a record of long-forgotten legends.

  Zarita sat on the floor in front of me but didn’t force me to meet her eye. “Let me tell you a story of a boy and a girl I used to know.”

  Wondering what the hell she was thinking, I frowned.

  “Many years ago, when I was just a student at university, I met a captivating young woman. A beautiful young thing, with hair unlike anyone else I’d ever seen before or probably will again. The two of us were both unlikely students, her coming from an orphanage and me there because of a wealthy benefactor who chose to provide me with a chance of life through a proper education. We did what outcasts tend to do with other outcasts—” A smile lit her lips, no doubt at some memory of the two of them together. “—we became firm friends.

  “These Phoenician legends, they were important to her too, just as they are to your young friend. I still remember the look of joy on her face each time she found out something new about the sunbird, or the phoenixes who had descended from her.

  “I also knew the man who loved her. He was a very bright young man, who wanted more than almost anything to be a doctor. They were the best of friends too, but were also locked in a constant battle. You see, he desperately wanted to date her, and she fought just as hard against the attraction.”

  “Why?” I asked in a hushed whisper. I watched Zarita intently, knowing from her very brief description that she was talking about Evie’s parents. Her story, and the soothing tone of her voice, had calmed my anger and soothed my heartache—at least temporarily. I was willing to allow her to continue talking. If nothing else, it gave me a reprieve from thought.

  “Because she didn’t want him to become trapped in her life. She was convinced that she’d endanger his life if she gave in to his chase because she was cursed. In this day and age, she actually thought she was cursed. Can you believe it?”

  She turned her gaze on me, and I shook my head lightly, assuming that was the reaction she was looking for.

  “She believed that a single kiss would capture his heart forever and that he would no longer be free to make a choice. It’s a ridiculous notion isn’t it?”

  I wanted to nod in agreement, but wasn’t that exactly what I’d just read? Wasn’t that exactly the reason my heart still yearned for Evie even after everything she’d done? Wasn’t that what had fueled my rage only moments earlier?

  “I . . . I guess,” I hedged instead.

  “Do you know what I believe though?” She waited until she had my full attention before continuing. “I believe that even if it were true, even if one kiss meant he would have no free-will afterward, I don’t think that the man I knew would’ve cared. Not even one bit. He was so smitten that he would have happily given her his heart, his very soul, for just that one kiss.”

  “But how could he have ever trusted his emotions again after that?”

  She hummed in thought. “Maybe you’re right, maybe he couldn’t.” Then she shocked me by grinning. “But isn’t having your heart stolen by another what love is all about in any form? I don’t think he would have loved her any more or any less with or without that control.”

  The ache in my chest started to lessen, but I had another question that I needed answered. “Do you have any other information about this? Like how the chosen partner can extinguish the feelings the phoenix has set?” I passed the page with the notes about the way a phoenix loves. I chose to ignore the irreversible part—that must have been a mistranslation.

  “Sadly, no. This is one of the gaps in my research. The other is how a phoenix comes into her power. The legends speak of quiet generations between the sunbird rising, but not exactly what provokes the change.” She shrugged and then chuckled. “You probably think I am crazy, talking like these legends are real. When you spend as much time researching them, they begin to feel real. Do you know what I mean?”

  My palm brushed against the back of my neck as I nodded. “I think you’d be surprised how well I understand that.” I stood and offered her my hand to help her off the floor as well. “What do you need in order to fill these gaps?”

  “Maybe that is tomorrow’s discussion. You look like you could use a rest.”

  “I just have one other question.”

  “Always so curious, young Master Clay. But of course, ask away.”

  “What’s agape? Is it linked to the emotions the phoenix forces into her”—victim—“partner?”

  She appeared lost in thought for a moment, when she started to speak, it was clear that she was thinking carefully about her choice of each and every word. “Agape is the perfect love. It’s usually associated with love of the divine, as well as love of mankind. It is everything—a fondness, a transcending of the particular, and a passion without the necessity of reciprocity. It is eros and pothos, but also platonic love, all rolled into one.

  “It’s not an emotion forced onto someone. It is already in each of us.” She patted my chest. “We are all born with it, you see. But you can find its match in another person. It is both the way a mother loves her child, but also the way she may love her husband. It is pure love—nothing more, nothing less.”

  “How is it linked to everything else in here?”

  “It’s not. At least, not fully. It’s just the closest concept I’ve been able to find so far.”

  I nodded but wasn’t really satisfied. I didn’t think I would be until I could fill the gaps in Zarita’s research and free myself from the spell Evie had cast over me.

  If it was possible for me to be freed.

  Thanking Zarita, I moved to leave for the night, but she stopped me.

  “Can I ask you a question now?” I was taken aback by the sudden change in her demeanor as she assessed me carefully. “Do you have someone here with you in Cyprus?”

  �
�No, it’s just me.” I wasn’t sure why she’d asked.

  “It is not good for you to be alone tonight when you are so out of sorts.” She frowned. “Where are you staying?”

  My palm caressed the back of my neck while I debated whether to tell her the truth or lie. “I’m not really staying anywhere specific.”

  After the first night in the hotel, I’d crashed wherever I could find somewhere that looked safe and warm enough for the night.

  Her eyes narrowed as if she’d suspected as much. Maybe it was the fact that the two decent meals I had managed to squeeze in at the hotel, and the scraps of foods I’d been able to rustle up since, had done nothing to shake the emaciated look I was currently rocking, or possibly it was because I didn’t just have bags under my eyes, I had a whole set of luggage.

  Maybe it was the ever-present backpack slung over my shoulder—too big to just contain items necessary for a single day. Whatever the reason, she seemed to have stumbled onto my secret. Not that I was going to admit it.

  “Where exactly is that? I have research assistants who are always digging for more details on ancient myths. I want to be able to contact you if I have any luck finding new information.”

  “I’m just staying here and there.”

  “In hotels?”

  I could tell she wasn’t going to let it go. I thought about lying and giving her the hotel name I had stayed at on the first night, but after the information she’d given me—and the promise of more to come—I didn’t want to betray the trust I’d earned. Instead, I flashed her a grin I hoped came across as charming despite my no-doubt reddened eyes and disheveled hair. “Just here and there.”

  “Tonight, you’re staying here.”

  “I couldn’t—”

  She held up her hand. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Tonight, you’re staying here. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about what I need. Now, how about I organize something for us to eat?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE NEXT MORNING, Zarita sat me down and told me a story about the private collection of one Charles Harrison. The name was vaguely familiar, and I discovered why as she neared the end of her story. He was the head of one of the UK branches of the Rain.

  Apparently over time, he’d been given, or in some cases had stolen, a number of significant ancient artifacts. Zarita believed he housed them in the headquarters at Oxford Castle. I was astonished with the depth of knowledge she had about it, but began to suspect that it was part of the reason the Rain had made her former life difficult.

  “He can’t have anything about the phoenix in that collection though,” I argued. “I’d know if he did. It’d be in the lore books and databases.” The instant it left my mouth, I worried I’d said too much. “I mean, I looked through everything they had before I came over here.”

  She chuckled wryly. “Young Master Clay, you have much to learn about the world.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I think I know plenty. More than you can imagine.”

  “You might know copious information about the world of make-believe and mythology, but you don’t know very much about human nature. If information is contrary to what people want to hear, they’ll resist listening to it. On occasion, they will even go so far as to threaten death to ensure such information stops flowing.”

  My eyes widened. “You’ve seen the relics.”

  The way she spoke made me certain that she’d seen precisely what was written on the artifacts, and that Charles Harrison hadn’t liked what she had translated. For a moment, I wondered why they wouldn’t want the truth about the sunbird—about phoenixes being protectors—being spread into the world.

  “Most of the notes you read yesterday were from my memory of the stories detailed on them. What I wouldn’t give for more time to study them.”

  “But why wouldn’t he want to share that information?”

  “I’m sure there is a reason the records you spoke of are available to all of the members of the Rain.”

  I lifted my eyes to hers, and reminded myself yet again that for her this was all make-believe and hokum. She had never been a heartbeat away from being a wendigo’s meal, and she didn’t believe any of it. “It’s just information.”

  “Information can be dangerous. Sometimes it’s safer to restrict what people know or even force them to believe a lie.”

  “Like propaganda?”

  She shrugged.

  As much as it pained me to admit it, it wasn’t actually outside the realm of possibility of the Rain. But I still didn’t understand why.

  “Maybe I can help get hold of the relics,” I said. Even though I no longer had my chain—that had disappeared along with Evie and was probably resting in the bottom of a dumpster or sitting in a pawn shop window by now—I was still part of the Elite. I could still call in some special favors, including having Eth arrange for me to head to Oxford as something of a one-sided soldier exchange.

  Zarita raised a skeptical brow at me. “What do you think you can do? Just walk in and ask for them.”

  “Yeah.” I paused as I took in her continued skepticism. “Why not?”

  Her expression fell into a frown. “There are only a handful of people who are even aware of the existence of the secret vaults in Oxford Castle. Certainly not any who would betray Charles’s confidence and tell a young American about them. Even if he is a member of the same organization.”

  I saw her concern before she actually had a chance to voice it. “So if I just asked, I’d be giving you up as the source of my information?”

  “It is possible that he would think of Zarita Demitriou as the source of information. You can understand why I would rather not give him any reasons to think on her for very long.”

  “Wouldn’t he have tried to get other translators in though?” I asked. “Maybe I could claim one of them gave me the information.”

  “I do not think he wants the relics translated anymore. Not after what he saw was on them. I think it is just luck and pride that made him not destroy them.”

  “You’re sure he hasn’t?”

  She held her hands out in front of her in a gesture of uncertainty. “There are no guarantees of course. It has been a long time since I saw them. However, I have come to understand people in positions of power tend to accumulate trophies, even if they can never show them off. For some, it is an art vault filled with the wondrous paintings and sculptures of long-dead artists. I think for Charles it is relics about the precious creatures that wandered the Earth in mythology.”

  I thought about Abe, the director at Bayview. It wouldn’t have shocked me to learn that he’d kept keepsakes of the hunts he’d been on before he’d retired to the office job or other relics that had crossed his desk in the time since. Would he be so willing to hide information about the apparent inherent good in a creature though?

  I flinched as my retraining flashed through my mind and provided the answer—of course he would. He would assume it was propaganda written by the creatures, or sympathizers, to stop their persecution. He, and so many others like him, believed beyond any shadow of a doubt that anything other was evil and was unwilling to bend that belief even when presented with clear evidence to the contrary. A stab of concern over Evie’s well-being struck me.

  Is she still alive?

  It had been months since she’d run from me in Missouri.

  Is she safe?

  Even as the concern peaked in my body, the information I’d learned the day before—that Evie had made me fall for her and instilled within me the desperate longing that raced through my chest—burned through me again, and I clenched my fists. A haze of anger washed over me, and I remembered once more exactly why I needed to find the relics—maybe they held a cure.

  “Clay.” Zarita’s voice cut through the pain and fog in my mind. I had blanked out on her as my concern for everything I’d left behind rushed through me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just need a moment to think about the best way to get my hands on those relics
without implicating you.”

  “The first step is France.” Her tone made it sound like the most logical thing in the world, but I was a little lost exactly how traveling to France helped me get my hands on relics in a secret vault in Oxford.

  “Because?” I prompted.

  “We can start at La Vieille Charité. I can show you the artifacts we already have there so that you know what you’re looking for. We can plan the rest from there.”

  I scrubbed the back of my neck before stretching the collar of my T-shirt with my fingers. “There’s just one problem. I don’t have the funds to get back to France.” I could get back there, if I needed to, but it would take hitchhiking and begging, and probably a few less than legal methods of getting some funds. Not to mention weeks of traveling time.

  It was unwise to delay now that I had something of a lead.

  She waved me off. “Don’t worry about that. Just make sure you’re ready to go when it’s time.”

  I nodded to my backpack in the corner of the room near my makeshift bed. Packed and ready to go. Just like Evie always had been. “I’m ready when you are.”

  IT WAS almost another week before our flight. Zarita wanted to ensure that the collection was available for immediate viewing at La Vieille Charité before we arrived. In the meantime, she gave me free access to all of her research books, but I just found myself reading in circles and never finding the answers I really wanted—like how exactly Evie had been able to force me to love her and how I could get back to normal.

  Part of me found myself wondering if I even wanted to.

  Maybe Zarita had been right—wasn’t love meant to be blinding and irresistible in all its forms? Wasn’t that what made it so thrilling? Who was to say my love was wrong, just because there might have been a supernatural cause behind it? Except I wasn’t given a choice in the matter and that still pissed me off.

  I used the time to call Eth to arrange a transfer to Oxford for me. I told him I was ready to get back into the business but not quite ready to return to home. Despite the things I’d learned, and the anger I felt, I didn’t tell him about the research confirming his and Dad’s suspicions. In a weird way, it felt like a betrayal of Evie to share that information.