I wave a falsely dismissive hand at him and lower my voice to a fake whisper. “You’re ruining my perfect plan. She was about to kill me so I could heal up.”
Standing back a few paces, the woman bares her sharp teeth at me, but doesn’t dare approach a gargoyle.
“Lookin’ pretty rough, kiddo,” Hank says, his features twisting.
“Really? Well, I feel great.” I give him the a-okay sign. “What was the ruckus out there? Having a party?”
“Rival hunters,” Hank says. “Brynn and I took care of them.”
“Brilliant.” I click my tongue. “Now let’s ditch these people and go save Max.”
“Wait,” the shifter says. “You’re trying to save him?”
I pop up a thumb, holding back a whimper. “Ding, ding, ding.” A cough racks my body again and tears streams down my face. Way to waste time on witty banter, Fee. When I can breathe again, I look up at her through blurred vision. “What do you want with him?”
The woman huffs, her claws retracting. “We’re Amazons. We’re attempting to save him as well. Aren’t you a hunter?”
“Can we sort through the details later?” I ask, barely keeping the whine out of my voice. “Time’s a wastin’.”
“You’ll need a healer,” one of the Amazons says.
“I need a gun, or cranky lady’s claws. Take me out and I’ll come back good as new.”
With one less life to spare.
I gag at both this thought, and the taste of blood. This might be true, but I will fulfill my promise to Max and do whatever I can to make sure he doesn’t have to suffer for his mom’s actions.
“You want us to kill you?” The woman with claws asks, upper lip drawing back in confusion.
“I have a condition.”
She presses her fists into her hip bones.
“I’m cursed to die and come back every day,” I say. “It works if I’m killed too. Now would you hurry up? I’ve got a few things broken over here.”
Gently, Hank squeezes my hand. “Are you sure?”
A fresh wave of tears stream down my face. “I can’t wait. Max needs my help...” I sniff, meeting his eyes. “And I need yours.”
Face stoic and still as stone, Hank extends a hand toward Brynn. Silent, she pulls her gun from its holster in her jacket. Hank takes it and presses the barrel to my temple. The muscles in his forearm stand out, and as he releases the safety, he says, “Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you too, big guy.”
With that, he pulls the trigger.
19.
AGONY BURROWS THROUGH my skull as bone cracks. Fire blooms out from the center of my chest, slower than normal, crawling along my broken ribs, and dragging a scream from my throat. It eats my skin, lingering long enough for blisters to bubble up. All of my bones that weren’t broken before shatter.
I curl into a ball, as if this will alleviate the pain. Large hands grip my shoulders. Hank. Good old Hank. More family than those who share my blood. He hangs on through the whole awful thing, a fire-resistant stone to stand on in the middle of chaos and confusion.
Darkness finally drags over me like a shroud. It drapes across my body almost gently, ushering me away from the pain, drawing me into the nothing beyond. I float there, detached from either life or death, pleasure or pain, as weightless as a will-of-the-wisp.
Too long.
I’ve been in this space far too long. Did I spend the last of my lives? Do I not get another chance? It can’t be. Not when Max needs my help, not when I promised him, I would do whatever it takes to protect him. I have to figure out how to get back.
Forcing movement into my fingers first, I slowly reawaken my body heavy muscle by heavy muscle. I peel my eyes open to confront two intense lights. One bright and radiant white glows to my left, while the one to my right shines blue green like water reflecting a clear sky.
Hair drifting around my face, I spin between the two, sorting through theories as quickly as I can. While one of the two poles is culturally understood as the gateway to the afterlife — both in the fae realm and on earth — I can’t afford to make the wrong decision. What does anyone know about death anyway? Even my fellow phoenixes remember nothing about the pause between reincarnations.
So, which should I choose?
Fingers pressed to my lips, I spin between them. “A little help?” I ask, not expecting either the darkness or light to respond, and definitely not expecting a third light to grow before me.
Golden and warm, this one solidifies into the shape of a curly haired man. Brilliant wings curve out of his back. The feathers shift from royal blue to rich red at the tips — just like a phoenix — and fire sparks from the ends. He wears a smooth, passive expression, but it’s also soft, somehow, warm even.
He bows his head in greeting. “Yes, I am as you are, a phoenix waiting for others to come to the place between life and death, journey and rest. Consider me a guide on your journey, Faith.”
I don’t feel the typical stress the use of my birth name usually triggers in me. Its absence throws me off balance, so I struggle to find a response to this strange being. Mentally brushing past multiple questions born of simple curiosity, I center my focus on the most important one.
“Can you tell me how to get back?”
The man’s wings sweep gently, scattering the sparks like stars. “Is that what you want?”
Impatient, my eyes dart from one pole of light to the other, then back to the glowing phoenix before me. That question sounds like a trap, which only affirms my worry that these two options may not be as straightforward as they seem. I’ll have to play his game if I want to save Max.
I swipe my hands through the glowing dark. “I don’t have time for riddles. My friend needs my help. Which light do I choose?”
The man presses his palms together. “In order to move forward, this question is necessary. As is understanding the consequences.”
A spot deep in my chest quivers. “Consequences?”
“If you choose this path,” the man says, gesturing to the blue light. “You will be reborn as the rest of your kind, free of this curse. But if you choose the other...”
I dig my back teeth into the inside of my cheek. “I’ll keep dying every day.”
“No,” the man says. “Making this decision will end that cycle, but you will also be giving up your reincarnation. If you die again, you will not come out in any form. So, I entreat you again, consider carefully what you want.”
Palms pressed to my cheeks, I hover, frozen in place with this awful decision. I could be done with all this, be free of the exhaustion and anxiety this curse has placed on me. Hank and the others still might be able to save Max. Who better than Amazons and gargoyles to clear the name of an innocent person?
But I promised.
Trusting Hank and the others to fight for Max is reasonable, rational, but I don’t want to leave it to them. I want to be on the frontlines of the fight to prove his innocence and give Iris Smith the closure she deserves. I’m not ready to give up on that. As absurd a thought as it is, going back is worth it.
Because I’ve fallen for Max. Not in love. Not just yet. But I’ve certainly stumbled onto the path that might just lead me there, and I have no desire to veer off of it. This realization centers my spiraling thoughts, hardens my resolve.
Rolling my shoulders back, I straighten my spine. “That’s a consequence I’m willing to accept.”
The man’s lips curve into a faint smile. “You have chosen kindly. Approach the white light and go save your friend.”
Ha! I knew the lights weren’t straightforward.
With one last look at my strange guide, I turn to face the light, a linear existence most are quite comfortable with. Power drags me forward. Faster and faster, I fly until the glow fills my vision completely. Then, in a burst of ash and fire, I stumble back into the middle of a crowd of Amazons and gargoyles.
Regaining my balance, I rest my hands on my bare hips and look down at Hank,
who still squats where I lay before. “Why so glum, big guy?”
Hank wipes his cheeks with the edge of a finger. “What took you so long, kid?”
I press a hand into his massive shoulder. “That’s a conversation we’re going to have to have over some tequila later, right now, I need some new clothes. We’ve got a water spirit to save.”
“Wait just a moment,” the shifter says, her claws now absent but her ire most assuredly not. “We—”
“Don’t have time to argue right now.” I unzip the backpack Hank so helpfully brought along and pull on the only set of clothes remaining inside. “As I’m sure you know, Yaritza is fast and smart and if we don’t get on her level, we’re going to lose Max. Now...” I hop on one leg as I slide the other into a pair of jeans. “The buyer is Iris Smith, a member of The Tribunal. So, things are a little sticky.”
Zipping the backpack up once again, I haul it over my shoulder, and march right through the group, my two awesome gargoyles at my sides like sentinels. Brynn leaves her wings open and wide. They form a sort of shield, keeping the Amazons from getting too close. Ironic considering a few days ago she’d beaten the snot out of me.
Men and women dressed in black sit or slump against the other vehicles in the parking lot. Most are tied up, but a handful are clearly unconscious. That’s what you get for attempting to fight gargoyles. Well trained bounty hunters or not, it’s a losing battle, one best not engaged in.
The Amazon shifter sprints out in front of me, walking backward to face us. “If the buyer is a Tribunal member, then we should turn her in to them. What evidence can you provide?”
Readjusting the straps on my shoulders, I click my tongue. “The contract. But we’re going to have to catch up to Yaritza and Max to get that, because she’s the only one with access to that documentation.”
At the van, Brynn curves in a wing to brush the Amazon shifter aside, eliciting a growl. “We can deal with legal fall out later. Right now, that’s not the priority,” she says. “I thought the Amazons understood that better than anyone. But you’ve always been a bit bound by the rules, haven’t you Dharma?”
The Amazon shifter — Dharma apparently — attempts to stomp around Brynn’s wing, but its stone strength holds her back. Black fur creeps up her arms. Then one of the other Amazons — a blond wearing goggles and a gray jumpsuit — smooths a hand across her shoulder.
“We can fight about all this later,” she says in an accent I don’t have the cultural knowledge to peg. “Right now, we should concern ourselves with rescuing the boy.”
Though a hardness lingers in her jaw, Dharma’s claws retract, and her fur disappears. “We’ll need to catch up, they already have quite the start on us, and we’ve had trouble scrying on them in the past.”
“We also can’t travel nearly as fast as Yaritza does,” I say. “Even if Hank, Brynn, and I fly we won’t be able to catch up with them quickly. None of you have water bamfing powers, do you?”
The woman wearing the goggles side steps Dharma. “I have a spell that can transport a small group instantly to a specific location, but I can only use it once a day, so we’ll just have one shot. That is, if you can pinpoint our target.”
That’s tricky. Especially since I suspect Yaritza will keep moving, striving to get to Iris Smith as fast as possible after all the delays. Not to mention the fact that I attacked her. Even more troubling is the fact that we still don’t have anything to convince Iris to put an end to her bounty. No Aline, no testimony about Joel.
Again, I wonder if she ever had a witch try and speak to his spirit, but I brush the question aside. Right now, I don’t have an answer for that. Right now, I have to focus on trying to rescue Max.
I stuff my hands into my back pockets. “We’ll never nail down Yaritza. She’s not going to stop until she can fulfill the contract at this point. But Iris is less likely to move anywhere. I think. In theory. Hopefully. So, we go to her instead.”
Hank elbows me gently in the shoulder. “Good plan.” He turns his attention to the woman with the goggles. “How many can you send?”
“Three,” she says. “Or I can take two with me.”
I gesture to myself with a thumb. “Count me in. I know Yaritza better than anyone. Hank or Brynn should come along too. Their gargoyle moral high groundness might convince Iris to listen.”
Dharma’s fingers tighten into fists, eyes wide under low eyebrows, a combination of shock and fury. “One of us has to be included.”
Crossing one leg over the other, I sway back against the side of the van. “So, our magical transportation specialist comes with us. What’s your name?”
Goggles’ focus darts to Dharma, then flits straight back to me. “Laurien.”
“I’ll try to track down Aline, convince her to turn herself in,” Brynn says. “Or see if I can find any information that might help convince Iris to end this without violence. Plus, I’ll put a bow on our friends here.”
She nudges one of the rival bounty hunters with the toe of her boot.
Though Dharma grumbles about it, she agrees to go with Brynn and the third Amazon. Even she can’t argue with a plan as solid as the one we’ve just stitched together in a matter of minutes. We exchange numbers, agree on the best place to land in Memphis, then separate into our groups, Brynn dwarfing the other two women.
Laurien presses her palms into Hank’s and my shoulders, mumbling a quiet spell. And then we’re sliding through time and space toward Tennessee once again. Shapes blur, mixing with light and color, the air zips across my skin, and my stomach performs clunky cartwheels.
Frankly, I prefer the smooth grace of water travel, even if this is a lot faster.
We plop down in an alley a few streets away from the Tribunal building. A grubby cat scurries behind a dumpster, startled by our sudden arrival, and a group of flies swarm the pile of garbage, but no other living being appears to notice us. Humidity intensifies the heat thickening the air, almost worse than Shreveport.
Already dripping with sweat, I jog to the sidewalk and peek around one of the walls to get my bearings. The five o’clock flow fills the streets, a river of men and women buttoned up in business attire and wearing tight, often shadowed expressions. A cacophony of car horns and screeching tires drowns out any conversation I might be able to overhear from this position.
I scan the sidewalks for a few moments before nodding. “Okay, so since none of us has actually met Iris Smith for more than a few minutes, we obviously can’t scry on her, so unless either of you has a better idea, we’re just going to have to start by harassing her at work.”
“Coming up dry,” Laurien says. “That sounds like our best option at the moment.”
Hank rubs one of the tattoos on his forearm, a skull with an intricately painted face. “Even if she’s not there, someone who works with her might be able to help. You might even be able to pick something up from her office if you can get in there. Lead the way, Fee.”
Digging the tips of my fingers into the brick wall, slightly high on Hank’s praise, I cast one more look down the street, then start toward the Tribunal Building. We weave in and out between clumps of twenty-somethings and couples, their presence slowing me down so my skin crawls with impatience.
Shuffling my shoes to resist the urge to break into a run and call unnecessary attention to us, I study every face, inspect every expression. Dizziness throws me off course as I sweep my gaze up to the rooftops around us, to windows and open doorways. An attack at this hour of the day in front of such a large crowd is unlikely, but I can’t quiet the anxiety chattering through me.
That happens to a girl after multiple attacks within such a short amount of time.
Deep green eyes meet mine. Warmth whooshes through me and my body stops obeying orders. Smooth and steady, it walks me right off the sidewalk and into another alley, thoroughly convinced this is a brilliant decision. Paranoia fights back, sends warning prickles up my neck and clears out the haze swarming my thoughts.
&
nbsp; I wrestle control away from the opposing force, springing sideways just in time to avoid a charging vampire. Fangs bared, she spins on a dime, swiping her claws at me. A massive hand catches her wrist as I throw up an arm to block the attack. Wings out, Hank hauls her off her feet, grumbling a growl in his throat.
Movement over his shoulder catches my attention. I dart around him, driving a shoulder into the midsection of Isaiah-freaking-Camp. Barely able to keep my footing under his weight, I shove off the cement with all my strength, forcing him against the alley wall as hard as I possibly can.
An oof shoots out of Camp’s mouth. I keep close and low, this proximity making it difficult for him to knee or kick me. It doesn’t protect me from elbows or fists though. Both rain down on my back the second Camp gasps in a full breath.
I slam my knuckles into his stomach, then morph into phoenix form, using my wings to sweep away from him and screeching in his face.
A force full of magic hits me from the left. I careen sideways, twisting around to face a third attacker, a man with a close-cut beard and ears sharp at the tips like mine. Another fae. And based on the force of his power, a high fae. He winds up for another blast, but Laurien jumps in front of him. His magic deflects off her shield spell.
Still tangling with the vampire, Hank snatches Camp by the shirt collar and flings him across the alley. He then turns his head over a shoulder. “Go. Get to Iris. We’ll catch up.”
I squawk in protest, but the countdown clock in my head wins out. With no way of knowing exactly where Yaritza plans to meet Iris, I could already be too late, Max could already be dead. But I can’t leave Hank and Laurien to deal with these rival bounty hunters without a little leg up.
Sparking fire from the tips of my wings, I fly a circle around the group. My flames burn the vampire, Camp, and the high fae before I soar into the sky, hoping to disappear in the light of the setting sun, the haze of puffy clouds. With humanity’s propensity not to look up — particularly when cell phones are involved — I’m probably safe.
Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame Page 17