Phoenix Blood (Old School Book 1)

by Jenny Schwartz

  I just feel so alone, Sadie admitted. She wanted to share her concern for Marcus with the Old School and have their support. How had he endured nine years with no one having his back? I have to be there for him now and that means keeping his secrets.

  She flinched as a big rig changed lanes abruptly, swerving around a slow-moving family sedan with heavily tinted windows. “Vanessa, do you have my contact at Venice Beach?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation in which Vanessa obviously considered pushing the Marcus-related questions before she accepted the change of topic. “I’ve gotten a containment box. Olga has one she enchanted for another mission. Your contact is collecting it in Missouri and flying in as we speak.”

  “Missouri? What was Olga doing outside Washington DC?”

  Vanessa laughed. “I didn’t ask and Olga didn’t volunteer. Caitlyn Zeith is bringing the box.”

  “Who? The only Caitlyn I remember is Caitlyn Krane. Did she remarry?”

  “Professor Caitlyn Zeith,” Vanessa said. “She’s a couple of generations ahead of us. Recently retired.”

  Sadie growled. With Stag mercenaries on her tail, now wasn’t the time for Vanessa to help an Old School member with their transition to retirement. “Van, I need someone combat-rated.”

  “Don’t you remember Caitlyn?” Vanessa asked, shocked. “She visited us at school. She was head of emergency relief, the first responders for—”

  “Catastrophe Cait? She retired?” Sadie definitely remembered the woman who’d addressed the school. Caitlyn Zeith had been terrifyingly impatient and demanding, and inspiring. She was a wizard who didn’t flinch from her logistical role in organizing help for people trapped in warzones and disasters.

  “Caitlyn’s husband died,” Vanessa said. “She’s mourning him and re-evaluating her life. Maybe she’ll return to her disaster relief role or take up the teaching position she nominally holds at the university, but for now, she’s doing odd jobs for the Old School. You’ll recognize her easily and all the Stag mercenaries on Earth won’t flap her. Venice Beach, 3:45pm Friday, so she can catch the ferry to Catalina Island.”

  If all went to plan—ha! Marcus was currently a griffin somewhere above the I-40, not exactly what anyone had planned. However, if they could get back on track, they’d reach Taos late today. Unless they drove through the night, they couldn’t release Karma and reach Venice Beach by tomorrow afternoon. “I need another twenty four hours,” Sadie said.

  “Sadie.”

  She interrupted hurriedly. “If I can’t make the meet, I’ll phone you.”

  “Make the meet,” Vanessa advised. “The longer you’re with Marcus and depending on him to keep you safe, the more screwed up you’ll get. The Stockholm Syndrome is real.” She hung up.

  From anyone else, Sadie would have been angry at that comment. Vanessa didn’t know Marcus. She didn’t know what he’d suffered. But Vanessa had suffered, too, and while she didn’t talk about her experiences, the fact that she’d even obliquely referred to them meant she worried about Sadie. When Sadie had time, she’d return the favor and worry about Vanessa. The trauma she’d endured needed healing, not burying.

  But for now, Sadie had to drive.

  Marcus flipped the truck Nelson was driving. He could have used telekinesis alone since he could feel his magic even in griffin form, but his emotions needed a physical release. He dove at the truck from the side and pushed!

  The truck rolled.

  To fit in the truck and drive, Nelson was in human form. Without the telekinetic-repelling power of the wizard’s werewolf form, Marcus could kill him with a thought. The option existed, but it would have consequences. Most importantly, killing a Stag mercenary would truly direct attention to the amulet Sadie wore. At the moment, it was solely the client who’d hired the mercenaries who wanted the amulet, but if Marcus defended it with deadly force, then it would automatically become of interest to others: he, himself, would have raised the stakes.

  So killing Nelson was out, especially since Marcus wanted information on the client who’d hired the Stag mercenaries and Nelson was likely to know something.

  Marcus landed by the front of the rolled truck. It rested on its roof. Around him stretched empty land. There were no houses, no businesses, and fortunately, for the moment, no other vehicles.

  Nelson braced himself with one hand, undid his seatbelt, and tumbled down. He crawled out of the driver’s side window. Between transforming back to human and crashing, he’d dragged on sweatpants and a t-shirt. If anyone had passed him while he’d been driving, there’d been nothing (like a naked torso) to attract their attention or make him memorable.

  If Marcus transformed back to human, he’d be naked. It would also reveal to Nelson that Marcus had a new power of transformation. It was definitely wiser to keep that a secret—for however long Marcus lived.

  On the other hand, Marcus couldn’t speak in griffin form, which would make interrogating Nelson near impossible. Frustration had Marcus gnashing his beak, his lion tail lashing in the dirt.

  Nelson stood warily. He had blood smeared across his face and he stood fractionally off-balance, favoring a likely-injured left side. “Can you understand me?”

  Marcus cocked his head to the right, curious.

  Behind Nelson, Karma landed on a tire of the up-turned truck. She seemed calmer, even preening a wing, while keeping an eye on Nelson.

  “Can you take a message?” Nelson asked Marcus’s griffin form.

  Marcus nodded.

  “Good.” Nelson wiped at blood running into his left eye. “I didn’t think Marcus worked with a partner, so you must be powerful. Your conjured creature is strong.”

  Ah. So Nelson thought the griffin was a wizard’s conjuring; partly an animation spell, partly an enchantment. It was actually a logical, if inaccurate, deduction.

  Even better, it emerged that Nelson wanted to negotiate. “I have no interest in fighting you. Werewolf against griffin would be epic.” There was a hint of excitement and bloodlust in Nelson’s gaze and a hunter’s sly predatoriness. “But I’m a businessman.”

  Marcus’s griffin crest rose in astonishment. “A businessman” wasn’t how he’d describe a Stag mercenary.

  Nelson’s gaze tracked Marcus’s ruffling head feathers. “Interested, hmm? I’d like to know who I’m dealing with. We’ve got a communication problem, though. I’m doing all the talking.” He coughed and spat to the side. “Mime won’t help us, but you could scratch an answer in the dirt. Or I’ll ask yes or no questions.”

  Marcus bobbed his head, more than ready to move the conversation along.

  The wizard shifted his weight, standing evenly on both feet, no longer favoring his left leg. “Glad to see you’re willing to talk. That’s more than Marcus was ever willing to do. Silent, scary bastard. Lucky, though. See how he ran into that picker who found the amulet. No one else knew it existed.”

  Marcus scratched a question mark in the dirt.

  Nelson grinned. “Reckon I guess I know what you’re interested in. You want to know if your client is the same as mine. If you’re splitting the fee with Marcus, I’m willing to do the same. Plus I’ll give you an extra ten percent. Hell, I’ll give you twenty percent. Worth it to me just to defeat the bastard.”

  Nelson’s enmity was nothing new.

  Let’s hurry this up. Marcus tapped the question mark with his left foot.

  “Can you get the amulet?” Nelson asked.

  Marcus nodded.

  “My client is—” Nelson lunged at Marcus, transforming into his half-beast form mid-leap. He didn’t aim at Marcus, but under him; sliding on his back under Marcus’s lion belly to rake at it with his three inch long claws.

  It was a solid attempt at disembowelment.

  Worse, in griffin form Marcus was clumsy and slow, too slow. He tried to rise, but his wings labored with the extra weight of Nelson as the werewolf dug in and strained to bite Marcus’s throat. The angle and feathers thwarted Nelson, momentarily
.

  Marcus got off the ground enough to roll. Lying on his back, his massive lion paws kicked at Nelson and dislodged him.

  The werewolf took chunks of Marcus with him as he leapt backwards with the throw and sprang up.

  Karma dived in and scored Nelson’s monstrous beast face with her claws. She aimed for his eyes, but he shied back.

  The precious seconds gave Marcus time to roll to his feet, so he wasn’t so vulnerable, and to launch upward.

  Nelson sprang, lunging to drag Marcus from the air. On the ground, the werewolf had the advantage. Once Marcus took to the air, he could attack from any direction—if he didn’t bleed out first. Pain like this meant that Nelson had to have ripped Marcus’s internal organs, possibly his liver and spleen.

  Telekinesis wouldn’t work on the wizard’s werewolf form, not directly, but there were indirect methods.

  Marcus flung the truck at the werewolf.

  Nelson leapt up, running over the rolling truck and jumping down. He kept on running. If he’d known the griffin was Marcus, he’d have fought to kill him. Instead, he’d talked and fought for the chance to get away.

  Marcus shrieked his frustration. He landed heavily, badly, in the dirt.

  Nelson was a vanishingly-small, fast-moving dot in the distance.

  Damn. Marcus’s telekinesis couldn’t heal him. His command of it was too clumsy for the micro-surgery required, especially with blood and agony pouring out of him.

  In hope rather than expectation, he shifted back to human. The transformation did nothing for his healing. He lay on his back in the field and stared at the sky. He could hear the traffic on the highway and the nearer sound of wind stirring the grass. Karma perched on his knee.

  “Can’t die.” The words were silent, his breath trapped in his throat. He’d known he’d die this week, but not like this. He had to get Karma to Taos, near where the young phoenix might find others of her kind. And he had Sadie to keep safe. Sadie.

  He tried to slow the blood pumping through his body and out through his torn abdomen to stain the ground. His telekinesis slipped and failed. He groaned, eyes slitting in pain.

  Gold exploded in his vision.

  Karma still perched on his right knee, a small bird of paradise, or at least, that was her physical body. Her magical body was immensely larger, a bird like an Andean condor, but golden with all the colors of fire, shimmering and powerful. The head of her spirit body dipped toward him, the great beak plunging into Marcus’s abdomen.

  Fire ripped through him, displacing the coldness of imminent death. He reached for it, not with his hands or mind, but with his own spirit, and found the fire to be raw magic. It didn’t need a command or a spell to shape it. Instead, the magic flowed through Marcus’s spirit and poured from his spirit to his body. His wounds sealed and new blood filled his collapsed veins. He breathed in and smelled the copper of his blood as well as the green of the earth in spring and the wild emptiness of the skies. He looked at Karma’s phoenix form and smiled. “Thank you.”

  The phoenix blinked out of sight, returning to its ordinary bird of paradise physical body. Its small claws scratched at Marcus’s knee as Karma flapped her wings and took off.

  Marcus rolled to his feet, shifting to griffin form as he did so, and flew.

  In the rear view mirror, Sadie studied the white van that followed three cars behind her on the highway. She’d noticed it forty minutes ago. Then it had been five cars back, but not passing, not even gaining on her, when she’d slowed the truck. It had made her suspicious, even as she watched it change lanes and act timid, just a driver uncomfortable with the highway’s speed.

  At the distance involved, she couldn’t see the driver clearly. By general size and silhouette, he was a man, but a ball cap hid much of his face and the color of his hair. He was growing impatient, though, closing the distance between them.

  This morning, the wizard Seth Bentham had warned her and Marcus of one Stag mercenary who would come after them for the bounty offered for the amulet that hung around her neck. Apparently, that mercenary, Nelson Davies, wasn’t working alone.

  Alone.

  Sadie glanced again at the clock. It was an hour since the wolf had howled and Marcus had transformed into a griffin and flown away. She could use her talent to find him. Even without forming the question, her talent registered that Marcus was back to the north and east. Was he hurt? Would Karma come and find her, Sadie, if Marcus was hurt? The phoenix had bonded with him, but what was Sadie to Karma? If Marcus died would the phoenix simply fly off?

  “Marcus is not going to die.” She’d been aiming for a confident tone. Instead, her own words scared her. “Oh, to heck with it.”

  Marcus had put her in the truck and told her to drive because he wanted her safe. She wanted to be safe, too, but she wanted him with her more. She needed to know he was okay.

  She checked the rear view mirror.

  The white van was still two cars behind her, hovering behind a silver-gray sedan that drove sedately behind a compact car a couple of decades old. They were all driving slow, like her, although their speed wasn’t dictated by worry for Marcus.

  She slowed some more, just enough to fall level with a gap in the traffic.

  The ward on Marcus’s truck might prevent surveillance, but for road safety, the truck was visible to other drivers. So they’d all see what she intended doing. She just hoped that the van driver didn’t guess how desperate she was. Even if he did, he couldn’t know that she’d grown up near car racetracks thanks to her dad’s obsession with stock car racing or that her oldest stepsister’s husband was a demolition derby driver. Sadie knew how to ram a car, especially when the van trailing her was a similar model to the one she usually drove. She knew how it handled and its weak spots.

  Horns blared and cars swerved as the other drivers protested her all kinds of illegal U-turn. She ignored them and roared up nearly level with the white van.

  Its driver might be a powerful wizard—she didn’t know—but he wasn’t a great driver or decision maker. In his place, she’d have driven as close as she could to the sedan in front of him. That way any attack on the van would risk hurting the innocent car ahead of him and someone like her could be counted on to refuse to endanger the innocent. Instead, the van driver had slowed at her U-turn and there was a large gap in traffic as other drivers had also braked behind them, wary of her erratic driving. All of which gave her the perfect, controlled situation in which to ram the van.

  The white van was too tall to be truly stable. Sadie liked the design since it gave her plenty of carry room if, when picking, she came across large items. However, it meant that taking corners fast and sharp, or speeding over uneven road, was not a good idea.

  At a solid nudge from Marcus’s truck the white van skidded, rocked and—exactly as Sadie had hoped—rolled.

  “Woohoo!” She accelerated to the off-ramp, confident that her enemy wouldn’t be following her back to Marcus.

  His griffin form swooped low in front the truck.

  “Thank God.” She followed him to an empty side road and parked in a shady hollow that gave them some privacy. She got out of the truck and ran to Marcus, who transformed back to human and hugged her. She froze. “Marcus?”

  There was blood all over his stomach.

  She touched the skin pulled taught over his ribs and stomach muscles. These were new scars, thick, terrible marks. “What happened?” Her fingers shook as she traced the scars. Claw marks, she realized.

  “Nelson got away.”

  “I don’t care about Nelson! What happened to you? You’re hurt.”

  He covered her hand with his, pressing her fingers into his skin. “I’m healed.”

  “You were bleeding out.” As much blood as was on him and judging by where the ragged scars ran, he’d suffered a terrible injury. Another one. She wanted to cry and was desperate not to do so.

  He touched her face, tipping her head so that he could look into her eyes. There was a st
range smile in his dark eyes. “You’re not listening, beautiful. I healed myself.”

  His fingers were warm, but not scorching hot, against her face. The skin of his stomach was warm, too. Not hot.

  Hope rose in an explosion of awe. “You healed yourself?” Her talent had found him as the source of the cure for his addiction to raw phoenix blood. But she hadn’t expected…

  He smiled. “I don’t know if the blood fever is gone forever, but for now…when my wounds sealed, the fever and pain also went.”

  She kissed him.

  Chapter 12

  Standing butt-naked by the side of a road kissing Sadie wasn’t the most sensible thing Marcus had ever done, but it ranked as one of the most glorious. It had been nine long years since he’d felt hope, and to feel it now, was inebriating. He was drunk on happiness, on Sadie’s kisses, on the feel of her against him, and the caress of her hands over his back and raking through his hair.

  She laughed and sighed as he kissed a path down her throat.

  He was aroused, achingly ready to make love to her, and since he was naked, that was embarrassingly obvious. He reached with his magic for jeans, not thinking, just knowing he needed clothes if he was to end their make-out session without seducing her.

  She gasped and wriggled away from him.

  He stilled, the habits and thoughts of nine years in which people feared him and he hated himself, rushed back.

  But Sadie wasn’t running. She was staring wide-eyed at his jeans.

  He glanced down. By the pressure, he was pretty sure they were zipped. They were zipped! He grimaced. “It seems my magic has changed a bit. I hadn’t noticed. I knew I needed jeans on if I wasn’t to—” He cut off that raw confession of desire. “The jeans just appeared. My healing was like that. I needed to be whole, and I was.”

  “Your magic is granting you wishes?” She looked freaked, but curious, and she was touching him again, a hand on his wrist. Connection. Hope.

  “If it was fulfilling my wishes we’d be in a giant bed in a remote cabin making love.”