Tiptoeing to the door, I poked my head out and saw Tristan sitting at the edge of the bed, patiently waiting.
“Uh … Tristan?” I said, clearing my throat. “Can you wait outside for a minute?”
Those emerald eyes looked over at me and I swore he had x-ray vision and could see through the door, he looked at me so intensely.
“What are you so afraid of, Octavia?” His eyes narrowed.
“Afraid? Me? Pfft.” I rolled my eyes. “Never.” Even I didn’t believe that.
“Then come out. It’s not like you’re completely naked. You have a towel.” He pointed to the towel I was clutching like a life raft, complete with white knuckles. “Unless you’re … scared.”
I glowered at him as I pushed past the door and crept out of the bathroom. “You’re such an asshole,” I murmured as I power-walked to the closet.
I didn’t know he’d followed me until I felt his breath on my neck. “Am I making you nervous?”
I jumped and whirled around to push him. “You know you are! Why are you messing with me? Earlier tonight you were beyond pissed. I can’t keep up with your erratic mood swings.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he muttered, having the grace to look shamefaced.
“Excuse me, what did you say?” I stretched my neck out and cupped my ear. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
“You heard me just fine. Don’t make me repeat myself.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I was upset because I was worried. You worry me, Octavia.”
I blinked a few times, unsure how to respond. “I don’t mean to.”
“I know you don’t.” He stepped closer and my breathing became erratic. I tightened my hold on the towel. “You don’t mean to do a lot of things.”
I frowned and looked down at my bare feet. What was he trying to say? Oh, God, I need a breather.
“Maybe we should talk when I’m not in a towel?” I suggested, unable to look him in the eyes.
After a short pause, Tristan said, “You’re right. I’ll give you time to get dressed.”
He left the closet and as soon as he did, I exhaled loudly, not caring if he heard.
By the time I got dressed and walked out of the closet, Tristan had left the room, so I simply went to bed and called it a night. It was probably best if we gave each other some space. Things between us were getting weird.
When I awoke the next morning, I trudged to the bathroom for a shower and hurriedly dressed before heading to the kitchen to see what I could round up for breakfast. Opting for comfort, I threw on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt I borrowed from Tristan, and a pair of sneakers.
It was noon and I had slept the morning away, which wasn’t a surprise considering how late it was when I finally went to bed. Since the vamps insisted on drawing thick drapes and keeping it so dark inside, you had no idea what time of day it was. I clapped to turn on the lights and the whole place illuminated. Staying with the comfort theme, I decided on a quick breakfast of cereal. Grabbing the box from the pantry and balancing a half gallon of milk in my arms, I snagged a bowl from the cupboard, a spoon from the drawer, and took all my items to the dining table, preparing to eat alone.
It was weird to think I would be gone soon. I had to admit I would sorta miss this place. A place where I was practically confined against my will, true, but being there helped me figure out who I was. Without Tristan and the others, I would still be fumbling around in the dark, running from shadows I knew were there but didn’t know how to escape.
“Good afternoon,” Tristan said as he strolled into the kitchen. He peered over at what I was eating and decided to join me, heading to the cupboard for a bowl and spoon before joining me at the dining table. “I see someone is eager to get the day started.”
“Wouldn’t you be, if you finally had the opportunity to see your family after being separated for so long?” I quirked a brow and eyed him carefully, realizing he never spoke about his family.
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“You don’t talk about them.”
“With you? No.” He shook his head and took a spoonful of his cereal, shutting down further questioning.
“Well, okay …” I muttered and continued to eat my cereal. “I wasn’t trying to pry or anything. Just making conversation.”
Sometimes I just wanted to take my shoe off and beat Tristan senseless with it. That was the Hispanic side of me showing. He was so infuriating. One minute he was hot, burning hot, but the next he was so ice cold, I was afraid of getting frostbite. There was no middle ground with him – no lukewarm temperature. Echo advised me to have patience with him, but there was only so much patience one could have. I didn’t even know why it bothered me so much. Why he bothered me so much.
It was probably best for all of us that I was going home and putting some much-needed space between us. I needed it. Desperately.
After breakfast, I washed the dishes while he got ready. Before I knew it, we were out the door and in Tristan’s all-black SUV, heading out to the Valley.
The minute we entered Sherman Oaks, my right leg started to bounce anxiously. I didn’t pack a bag or anything. I had cash, my ID, and my cell phone in my back pocket, but that was it.
Familiar neighborhoods started streaking past the window and I knew we were getting close to my house. My palms started getting clammy and I rubbed them on my jeans. I blew out a shaky breath, and when we turned into my street, my heart raced double time.
This was it. I was home.
Tristan parked the SUV directly across the street from the house instead of pulling down the street or into the driveway, and before he could park, I’d already flung open the door and was jumping out, my sneakers skidding on the pavement.
“Octavia, wait!” Tristan yelled.
I could barely hear him. Buzzing filled my ears with a piercing sound; the only other sound I heard was the frantic blood pumping through my veins. My eyes teared up at the sight of my humble home and I nearly tripped over myself as I crossed the street in my haste to get there.
“Camila Cortez … What a lovely name,” a male voice drawled behind me. It wasn’t Tristan, that much I knew. This voice was seductive — alluring, purring with a laziness unlike anything I’d ever heard before.
Cocking my head, I stopped on the sidewalk right in front of my house. I spun on my heels and faced a tall man in his thirties with dirty blond hair and striking blue/gray eyes that looked at me gleefully as if I were the top prize at a local carnival. He was dressed to the nines in a gray wool coat with the collar popped, which was weird, considering it wasn’t cold out. But what really made me freeze in place was the single black dahlia he held in his hand.
“We finally meet.” He smiled demurely. “I’ve been waiting for what feels like a very long time to meet you, Camila.” He emphasized my name.
I frowned at the man. “Who are you?” Stupid question, because I had a sneaking suspicion I already knew.
His smile broadened. “Have you been getting my messages?” He raised the flower in his hand and his smile widened.
“Messages?”
“Yes,” he replied, taking a measured step toward me. “Black dahlias signify a warning of someone’s potential betrayal. I’ve been trying to let you know for weeks,” he added with mock concern.
With the strange man’s chilling words, I looked around for Tristan, but he was nowhere to be found. Where was he? His SUV was still parked and my passenger door was wide open, just how I left it, but I could see the driver’s seat was empty.
I steeled myself. “You’re him, aren’t you? The one who hired Murdoch?”
He took another step toward me. “Murdoch was obviously no match for you, or else he would still be here.”
“That should concern you,” I said with bravado. “I’ll take you down just as easily.”
He chuckled. “I have no doubt you can. But let me ask you, Camila, where is your friend?”
He knows about Tristan. I was on instant alert, scanning
the area with wide eyes, looking for him. “Where is he?” I yelled.
With a snap of his fingers, Tristan emerged from the house across the street with another man restraining him, a stake embedded in his chest.
I took a tentative step forward but stopped myself. I never even saw them capture him. I had been so focused on getting to my family, I didn’t pay attention to my surroundings.
Mistake number one.
“Right now, that stake is merely grazing his heart. However, if my friend pushes just a little deeper …” he warned, prompting his friend to press the stake further into Tristan’s chest.
“Stop!” I shouted. “Just stop! What do you want?”
“Don’t, Octavia!” Tristan gasped, inducing his captor to kick him to his knees.
“Come with me, Camila,” the man urged smoothly. “That’s all I want. Do as I wish, and I promise to leave your friend alone.” He raised his hands as if surrendering and assumed an innocuous expression.
“Don’t do it!” Tristan yelled weakly.
It was an impossible situation. I couldn’t let him die. I just couldn’t.
I peered over my shoulder at my parents’ house, then at the man. I was so close, but not close enough.
“You have a deal,” I whispered, lowering my head dejectedly.
“No!” Tristan exclaimed, but I tuned him out. I was doing this for him.
“Perfect,” the man chirped brightly. He walked over to me until we were mere feet apart and handed me the dahlia. I took it hesitantly, expecting poison to burst from its petals. Again, I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.
Mistake number two.
As I took the flower, he moved so fast, I didn’t catch his movements until it was already done. The man reached into his wool coat, pulled out a collar, and snapped it around my neck, the click resonating in my ears as it locked into place.
“What?” My eyes widened and I stumbled back, dropping the dahlia and scrabbling at the collar, trying to rip it off. “What is this? This wasn’t part of the deal!”
“Think of it as my security blanket, sweetheart.” He waved off my alarm dismissively. “Now relax and don’t move.”
Immediately, I calmed down and stood eerily still.
My mind raced as I tried to understand why I couldn’t move, while at the same time my limbs felt loose. I remembered Tristan telling me about the spelled collars vampires used to control the phoenixes back in the day, but also that the collars were very rare, almost nonexistent now, because of how rare a phoenix was. I realized this was one of those collars, but how the hell did this guy get one?
My captor bent down so we were eye-to-eye. “Bring out the phoenix,” he ordered calmly.
As if spurred by my natural reflexes, my skin ignited in flames from head to toe and I felt the ripple in my back as the phoenix emerged. She squawked and flew around us. Lacking utter control of myself, I couldn’t tell her to kill the bastard, no matter how much I wanted to.
The man took a step back from the heat of the flames and grinned. “You’re quite a beauty. Stunning,” he gawked, then an evil glint simmered in his eyes. “Now, I want you to turn around and burn your house to the ground.”
“What?” I screeched, even as my feet began to move without conscious thought. “No! My family is in there! Stop, I promise I’ll do anything you want, just stop!” Throughout my protests, my traitorous feet continued to move closer to my home.
I panicked. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to force myself to stop, gritting my teeth so hard I thought they would shatter, yet my feet didn’t even pause in their single-minded directive.
When I reached the front of the house, I saw my sister through the front window. She did a double take as she saw me. Her eyes widened and she dropped whatever she was holding, running to the front door as she screamed for the others to come outside.
In a blink, my phoenix soared to the top of the house and ignited the roof with one solid burst that spread like wildfire, catching on the dry shingles with a shower of hissing sparks.
The front door rattled, but the man must have secured it ahead of time because they couldn’t open it. My mom showed up at the front window and started banging on the glass, then paused as she took me in, erupting in ragged screams when she realized my skin was coated in flickering orange and yellow flames.
I walked mechanically to the window, crying bitter, senseless tears, and placed my hand on the windowpane, setting it ablaze. My mother shrieked in pain and jumped back, looking at me with terror-stricken eyes as if she didn’t want to recognize the monster before her.
The fire spread quickly, rampaging throughout the whole house within minutes. From where I stood in front of the window I had a front row seat to the destruction inflicted upon my whole family—my parents, my sister, and my brother. They were coughing, inhaling too much of the smoke as they vainly tried to open a window. When that failed, they stumbled to the back door, but they were completely sealed inside the burning inferno.
I cried and raged inwardly as I watched the destruction unfold. By now, parts of the ceiling were caving in and windows shattered from the intense heat, but it was too late for my family to use them as an escape route. I took one last look at my mother before the black smoke plumed so thickly it obscured their forms. But it didn’t erase the sound of their screams. Nothing could muffle that.
Their bloodcurdling screams would haunt me the rest of my life.
I did this. I killed my entire family.
I gasped for air, trying to force it into my body, but couldn’t drag it into my anguished lungs. I tried to stop it. I tried to call the phoenix back to me, but nothing happened. I was helpless, at the mercy of a man who forced me to torch my family.
“Come back to me, Camila,” the man said. And like a robot, I spun around and walked back to the man I vowed to kill one day, without sparing a look back at my screaming family. “Good. You see, I warned you someone would have the potential of betrayal,” he murmured as I approached.
It was you! You made me betray my family! I raged in my head, unable to bring the words past my lips.
I peered over to see Tristan still kneeling on the grass of the neighbors’ lawn with the stake protruding from his chest. His mouth was agape, frozen, watching as I did the vile bidding of my demented captor.
“Run,” I mouthed, tears trailing down my face. “Please, run,” I pleaded, terrified that this man would make me kill Tristan, too.
The despair and agony in my face must have been enough to shake Tristan from his stupor because with a groan, he stood and rammed into the man that was holding him, throwing him back. Tugging the stake from his heart, he took a split second to look at me, wavering with indecision. I shook my head. He couldn’t help me. Not in the state I was in. I would be compelled to kill him if my jailer commanded me.
Decision made, Tristan rushed for the man controlling me but didn’t get far. The man held up his hand as if to stop him and Tristan was lifted off the ground by an invisible force. As his body seized, my captor seemingly paid him no mind and picked lint off his wool coat. Tristan rose higher and higher in the air until the man dropped his hand and Tristan’s body slammed to the ground, asphalt cracking from the force and debris flying everywhere.
“Tristan!” I shouted but didn’t move. I couldn’t.
He groaned and rolled over, and I saw he was covered in blood. I couldn’t take anymore of this. This man was obviously stronger than him. He had to run.
“Tristan, run!” I cried out. “Run!”
Tristan met my gaze as he stood slowly, readjusting bones within his body. I saw the moment realization hit and the guilt slithered in. He knew he was outmatched. He knew he couldn’t save me. I didn’t want him to feel guilty about not saving me; I wanted him to be safe. I nodded just a fraction, begging him silently, and he was gone in a flash.
I breathed a sigh of relief, but the ache in my chest was still there. My friend may have escaped, but my family hadn’
t. Instead of screams, now I was haunted by silence. Silence that came from my family’s home. They weren’t screaming anymore.
“Oh, God,” I croaked. If I had control of my limbs, I would have collapsed to the ground.
“I’m not God,” the man smirked, his pearly white teeth shining in the bright daylight. “Call me Morningstar. And you and I have a lot of work to do.”
I didn’t know who or what Morningstar was; all I knew was that I just did the worst thing imaginable, a fiery genocide incited by a madman. The last memory I would have of my family was the echo of their anguished screams, accented by the acrid smell of smoke that still coated my lungs and teeth.
I would never have a chance to make things right with my mother. She died thinking I hated her enough to kill her. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to survive the depravity of this aftermath.
In that moment, I vowed that whatever Morningstar wanted from me, I would withhold. He broke me, and I knew that nothing would ever be able to fix the damage that had been done.
Nothing.
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Phoenix Burn (From the Ashes Trilogy Book 1) Page 19