Phoenix Fire

by S. D. Grimm

  I pressed the paper towel from my hand and against my knee. It already felt better. Too bad I didn’t. I pressed my back against the wall and dropped to the floor, letting the buildup of tears free. Ajax sat with his massive head on his paws staring at me from the hallway. Who knew German shepherds could be so intuitive? He wasn’t bad for a dog.

  “Sorry I scared you, boy. It’s just you and me tonight.”

  He whimpered and came closer, nudging me.

  I cleared my eyes. “I bet you have to go out.”

  He spun in a tight circle.

  “I’m sorry, bud.” That’s what I got for not taking care of the dog, like ever. But to be fair, he didn’t like me much when I first got there. Still holding the paper towel against my knee with my injured hand, I headed back to the kitchen where the mess on the floor stared me in the face. This was going to be a long night.

  I opened the side door, and Ajax shot out like a black-and-tan streak of lightning. I sighed as I faced the mess. I’d just patch myself up first, then I’d take care of the glass.

  Gingerly, I removed the reddened paper towel from my knee. It looked to have stopped bleeding at least. I threw it away on my way back to the half bath and glanced in the mirror. Holy crap. I looked awful. Bags under my eyes, tear streaks on my cheeks, and my hair was all frizzy from the humidity. Wyatt had certainly gotten a good dose of imperfect Ava tonight. And still he’d stuck around. It had been incredibly sweet of him. Until he took off running because I’d seen his creepy noninjuries. A shudder rippled through me.

  I turned on the water and placed my blood-covered hand beneath the faucet. Gently, I washed the dried blood away…and saw nothing. No cut. I blinked. There had been blood everywhere. Cuts like that didn’t just disappear.

  My heart beat faster. They had on Wyatt.

  A shiver raced through me, starting with my scalp. How could this be? I stared at my hand. No cut. I pressed against it. No pain. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. I could hardly breathe. Had…had Wyatt done something to me?

  I checked through the tear in my black pants and stared at my reddened knee. Dried blood but no cut.

  My breaths came shallow. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. What was wrong with me?

  Knuckles white, I gripped the bathroom counter. There was blood still all over my hand as I fished my cell phone out of the front pocket of my hoodie. Wyatt’s phone number stared back at me.

  My knees grew weak and I sank to the cold tile floor. I’d still been hurt. I healed myself. But maybe—maybe Wyatt didn’t know what had happened to him, either. Maybe he was just as alone. Maybe something weird had happened to both of us at the crash site.

  I put my phone back into my pocket and scrubbed my hands clear of blood for the second time tonight. Pink water rinsed off of me and disappeared down the drain.

  Then everything shook.

  With wet hands, I gripped the cold edges of the sink. It turned into a bucket—a wooden bucket filled with water. Not another memory that wasn’t mine. Not now. I wanted to scream.

  Dark water reflected the flickering light of a lantern. I plunged a reddened cloth below its surface, lukewarm on my hands, and scrubbed out the blood. Then I brought it out, squeezed excess wetness away, and laid it against a gaping wound on a man’s chest. The wound was a hole. Like a bullet had made it. My stomach roiled. I didn’t want to see the man’s face. I didn’t want to see any more of this memory. I crushed my eyes closed and prayed for it to pass.

  All I saw was blackness behind my eyes.

  Breathing in, I opened them. No more weird memory. But my heart still pounded. My stomach still roiled. That memory might not be real, but this was: I had self-healed. My knee and hand were injury free. There was no walking away from that. Cold seeped into my blood and through my core. What was wrong with me?

  My mind searched for answers. Wyatt had clearly had blood on him. Maybe he was freaking out at home, too—maybe he was getting other people’s memories.

  As if in slow motion, I pressed his number.

  It rang.

  My insides squeezed. What was I going to say to him? “Hey, I’m suddenly a self-healing freak, any ideas?” No way. I pulled the phone away from my ear and my thumb went to press the end call button.

  “Hello?”

  Crap. Why was it so hard to breathe?

  He sounded sleepy, groggy. Of course, I’d woken him. Now it would be rude to hang up. Right? Why did it matter so much? Why did I even care? Why—

  “H-hello? Ava?”

  My hand shook as I brought the phone near my ear. “S-sorry to wake you.”

  “No, don’t be. You didn’t. Are you okay?”

  Why did it feel like I’d talked to him a million times before? I sank to the floor, leaning my back against the door of bathroom vanity, and sat on the fluffy gray bathmat. I didn’t even care that I was in the bathroom.

  “Ava, are you okay?” His voice held a slight edge of worry.

  I nodded, my throat thick. I was not okay, but I didn’t know how to say anything. “I…umm…I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “You can always call me. Okay?”

  Really? “Thanks. Listen, I know we hardly know each other. I just, I wanted to talk to someone.”

  “We can talk as long as you want. And if you need me to come over, just say the word.”

  “What word?”

  “Any word.” He chuckled, and it brought a smile to my face.

  Warmth coursed through me. It was like drinking hot cocoa after caroling in the snow. I wanted to say the word. But before tonight, I hadn’t said anything to Wyatt Wilcox outside of handing him his books off the floor a bunch of times after someone had knocked them out of his hands. The strange feelings in my gut had to have more to do with the strangeness of tonight than anything else.

  “Have you decided on a word yet?” His voice was soft again.

  I pulled my knees up to my chin. “Is it like a code word?”

  That chuckle again. “Sure.”

  “And does it work anytime, or just tonight.”

  “Anytime.” He answered so fast, and his voice was so serious, I almost believed he’d drop anything in the world for me. Almost.

  A deep bark resounded outside. I’d let Ajax out. Phone to my ear, I raced to the back door. But it wasn’t Ajax’s “let me in” bark. It was way too deep, and he wouldn’t stop. I opened the door. Cool air rushed in, slammed into my face, and whipped around my hair. Two figures—hooded men—raced away from the house.

  “Ajax, here!” He chased after them, his tail up and ears forward, that booming bark in his throat.

  One of them stopped and pulled something from his pocket.

  “Ajax!” I screamed.

  My phone clattered against the kitchen floor.

  The guy looked at me, his face hidden under the black hood. Then he ran.

  “Ajax,” I called again, breathless this time. My throat felt raw.

  He came running. Limping. What had they done to him?

  “Come on, boy.” I grabbed his collar and led him inside. Bloody paw prints scattered over the kitchen floor everywhere he stepped.

  My heart thrummed in my chest. Great night to be home alone. Creeps in the yard. If Ajax hadn’t been there—I hugged the big shepherd’s neck.

  “Good boy. Let’s see that paw.”

  There was just a tear in the pad. A pretty good one, too. Like he’d stepped on something sharp. I’d have to check outside in the morning because there was no way I was going to look into that now.

  Blood dripped out of his wound. He started licking it and I wanted to puke. “Let me get the first-aid kit. No. Let me set the alarm, then I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

  He watched me with big, brown eyes as if he understood what I was saying. I locked the side door, raced to the front door, and set the alarm. Ajax followed me, leaving a trail of blood everywhere. Then it occurred to me as I looked at the blood spots all over the kitchen floor next to the pil
es of glass, that it was probably the glass that had hurt him.

  I sighed and grabbed Ajax a treat from the container on the counter. Then I sat with my back to the cupboard—trying to calm my nerves.

  “Let me stop the bleeding, boy.” I pressed the gauze against his paw.

  He froze, attention swiveling away from me. A low growl rumbled in his chest and he charged the front door.

  My heart thumped in my chest. They were back.

  Chapter Five

  Cade

  “See him?” Nick braced his back against the vinyl siding of an expensive home and motioned for me to look around him toward the front of the house where he’d seen something “sniffing around.”

  I pressed my back against the same siding on my brother’s right, holding the unloaded crossbow. He lowered his 9mm, and I peered around the corner of the house. I saw it all right—the reason we’d left training at the cemetery.

  The man—if you could call him a man—slunk with inhuman speed toward the house. It stopped. Sniffed the air. Then lowered its body to a hunched position, almost on all fours. Its arms seemed too long for its body. Chills skittered over my skin. That was not normal. It stopped moving. Hollow, black-as-night eyes looked in my direction. Heart hammering, I pressed my back against the house. “It might have seen me.”

  “No. It heard your pulse change.”

  “My…” Maybe Nick was right. I shouldn’t have come. The little he’d told me about wraiths suddenly didn’t seem like a good enough crash course. Then again, I’d insisted. I gripped the crossbow tighter as if that could calm my shaking nerves. Might as well make myself useful.

  Nick looked right at me. “Just remember what I said and do what you’re told.”

  Yeah. About that. Now probably wasn’t a good time to tell him I didn’t usually do as I was told. Then again, his instructions—don’t look into a wraith’s eyes, don’t hesitate, and don’t let it bite—seemed totally followable.

  He holstered his weapon and pulled out a golden spike. “Don’t hesitate. Stay in the shadows. When I tell you to shoot, aim for the throat or between the eyes. And don’t let it bite or scratch you.”

  Okay. The amendments were fine, too. He stared at me until I nodded. Then he headed around the side of the house. I followed, hunkering low by the porch. My hands were sweating.

  “Stay here.” Nick hopped the porch rail.

  I didn’t see the creature anywhere. A slight creaking sound that seemed different than the normal wind made me look up. It was right above me. My heart jolted and I swore as I stumbled back, pressing my back against the side of the house. It’s unnaturally long arms and legs pushed against the porch’s covered ceiling, holding it in place over my head. I pointed the crossbow at it, then realized, golden arrows or not, I shouldn’t shoot at a home.

  In my moment of hesitation, the creature dropped onto the porch right in front of me. Slowly, it seemed to stretch to meet my height.

  I had to get out of here. But I couldn’t move. Shaking, I stared at the wraith. Willed myself to breathe. It didn’t really have eyes. Just gaping black holes that made its skin look even paler. No mouth, either. And it was so bony.

  I should stab it. I should most definitely stab it, but my hands seemed frozen.

  I’d broken two rules now. Idiot.

  It tipped its head, as if curious, then a strange, jagged line formed where the mouth should be. It looked as if a child drew it. Then the strange line split, revealing needle-sharp teeth. My heart went into overdrive, trying to knock me out of my trance, but it wasn’t working. The wraith lunged at me, gaping maw open.

  Oh no. Not rule number three.

  Everything inside of me screamed for me to move.

  Something slammed into it, pushing it over the porch railing and onto the ground near the neighbor’s house. Nick. He was on top of it, but the wraith snaked its way out of Nick’s hold. Fast. It bent its head at an awkward angle and that black hole opened to reveal those teeth. Every one pointed like fangs. It tried to bite Nick.

  A spike of adrenaline shot through my body, shattering my trance. I jumped over the porch railing, golden stake in hand. The creature locked eyes with me. That gave Nick the time he needed to swing at it with his own golden weapon—a dagger. But the wraith ducked the blow and scurried away from Nick.

  My brother scrambled to his feet to chase it, motioning for me to go around the house the other way. I did, as fast as I could, and just as I turned the corner, I saw it.

  I grabbed hold of its loose, cape-like black clothes just as he rounded the house. Its head turned to face me, and it hissed, an unbearable sound that pierced my ears. I covered my ears and braced myself against the side of the house. It slashed at me, but I ducked and tripped over some stupid bush, spiraling into the neighbor’s backyard and falling on my stomach.

  Thick summer grass broke my fall but swallowed my golden arrow. I fumbled to get the crossbow, but the feel of something cold on my spine made me turn. The world seemed to spin as I tried to make my weak limbs support my weight.

  Never had I ever felt the urge to run like I did now. The grotesque head lurched toward me.

  Nick jumped between us and the beast slashed into his side with freakishly long nails. Not my brother! Adrenaline surged through me. I rolled to standing and found the glint of gold in the grass.

  Nick grappled with the creature on the ground. Pinned it.

  He held his dagger, ready to stab, but the creature contorted its body around him and stabbed my brother in the shoulder with those retractable nails.

  I had to get my fingers to work or I’d never get this crossbow loaded.

  “Now! Cade, now!”

  I secured the arrow, aimed, and shot. The arrow lodged in its skull and the creature turned into a pool of sizzling fog. I sank to my knees, mouth open and staring at the empty space that used to be a monster. All of my muscles were putty. “I can’t believe I made that shot.”

  “I can.” Nick fell on his back in the grass and the booming bark of a dog alerted me to a huge German shepherd barreling our way. Hot tingles shot through my bloodstream, igniting me into action again. I grabbed my brother’s hand. “We have to get out of here.” I towed him up and he hunched over, blood trickling from his shoulder, his side.

  He faced the dog and pulled a whistle from his utility vest. He held it to his lips and blew. Though I couldn’t hear a thing, the dog paused, shook its head, and let out a whine. Its owner called. This time, Nick grabbed my arm and we ran.

  “What was that?”

  “Annoying noise. It usually deters dogs from chasing. It didn’t hurt him.” He groaned and pulled his hand away from the gash in his side.

  A boulder seemed to settle in my stomach. “You need a doctor.”

  “I do.” He smiled weakly. “But I have you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I have experience in this?”

  He winced. “A little.”

  I stood still in my tracks. “Do you…” Something approached. The wind changed. Things seemed sharper. There was a metallic taste in the air. I recalled this sensation. I was smelling a monster. I headed toward it. “I smell something.”

  Nick grabbed my sleeve. “No.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure of it.”

  “Not that one. Not tonight.”

  I looked down at my brother’s gushing wound. “Doctor first?”

  “I just have to get the wound clean. The healing will happen on its own.” He handed me the keys.

  “Really?”

  He slapped his hand against my back. “It’s nice to have you back, Cade.”

  We got into the car and I started it up. “I think—”

  “That monster isn’t hunting tonight. We’ll be back for him, though. You can guarantee it.” The serious look in his eyes made me shudder.

  “Okay. Where to now?” We’d already dug up a treasure chest of weapons at the cemetery of all places.

  “Home. Or as close as we’ll get to it for now.”


  I drove five blocks under Nick’s direction, worried the entire time if I should have disobeyed him and gone to the hospital. Finally, I pulled into the dark driveway of a fairly small house—something like a cottage on the outskirts of town. Homey perhaps.

  I followed him outside. “Have I been here before?”

  He glanced at me over the Challenger’s hood. “You died here once.”

  Chapter Six

  Ava

  Loud banging echoed through the foyer. Those strange men were trying to get in. A scream welled up inside of me, but I held it in, too afraid to make a sound. Ajax slammed his front paws against the door, his deep bark matching the bangs. I stood, frozen, hoping he’d deter whoever was there.

  “Ava! Ava, open up!”

  My heart stuttered. Wyatt? Heat coursed through my blood again as I raced to the living room and pulled aside the heavy taupe drapes in time to watch him ram his shoulder into the door. My shoes squeaked against the wood floor as I scrambled to let him in.

  “Wyatt! I’m coming.” My palm was sticky with Ajax’s blood as I grabbed the brushed nickel knob and turned. The door made a cracking sound and swung open, nearly crashing into me. The alarm went off.

  Ajax jumped forward, teeth bared.

  “Whoa, it’s okay!” I lunged for his collar.

  Wyatt tumbled over the threshold and sprawled across the floor. Ajax backed up, barking. The alarm blasted out around us. I punched in the code. At last, silence. I turned back, half expecting to see Ajax cornering Wyatt with his teeth bared. Instead, he sniffed Wyatt’s shoes and lay down at his feet.

  “I guess he likes you.” I leaned against the door, closing it while my muscles seemed to melt against my bones.

  Wyatt motioned to the blood on the floor. “Are you hurt?” His eyes widened, and he looked me over.

  Funny he should ask that. “No. Ajax was bleeding. I—”

  “Your phone connection just cut out. I was worried something had happened.” His chest heaved.