Fire Reborn

by D. S. O'Neill

  For a second, Daromir said nothing, then his amused laughter filled the air, surprising the hell out of Katra. “Ah, child—I’m glad to see you’ve grown out of your timid demeanor. That attitude would have gotten you nowhere. Now, as far as this accusation goes, I’ll ask around. If the powerful person hired mercenaries to find you, there will undoubtedly be some word about it in the supernatural community. Sit tight and don’t go anywhere. I’ll contact you once I have more information. Oh, and Katra?”

  Her head perked up at attention.

  “You haven’t been using your powers, correct?”

  Later on, Katra would pat herself on the back for how well she maintained her composure, even though her thoughts instantly began spiraling out of control at the question. “Oh, don’t worry, Daromir. The runes you put on me are still in place and functioning at full capacity.” It wasn’t really a lie. The runes were, indeed, still embedded in her back, and she was 99% certain they were still working…as far as she knew, anyway.

  There was a moment where Katra was completely sure Daromir didn’t believe her, as he sat there staring at her through the mirror with a look that almost screamed “you’re lying”, and she had to physically hold herself back from shifting uncomfortably under the weight of his stare. But the moment finally passed when he nodded. In the next second, the mirror flickered, and Katra was staring at her reflection standing in a dusty room next to her father, in a mansion nestled in the woods in the middle of godsdamned Rocky Mountains.

  “You lied.”

  Katra winced at the accusation from Jakob, and avoided his eyes as she turned and began to examine the room, trying to figure out a way out of the dreaded conversation working its way into Jakob’s mind. “I think we should figure out what, exactly, we’re working with in here. This place seems pretty huge, if somewhat unused. We should probably check on the food situation as well, though, knowing Daromir, he’s got some enchanted food storage box that keeps everything perfectly fresh for decades, maybe even centuries. Hell, it may even magically create food on a daily basis.”

  “Don’t try to avoid this, Katra. I know you lied to him, just like I know you’ve been using your abilities. I watched you burn away that paralyzing spell the shifter threw at you, and I sincerely hope none of them saw it. Where did you get those spells from? Who have you been in contact with in the supernatural community? And why would you feel it’s okay to put yourself at risk like that?”

  Well. Clearly this was happening, whether she wanted it to or not. And she really didn’t want it to.

  Heaving a great sigh, she turned and faced her father full on, her amber eyes meeting his brown ones, and once again she was surprised by how little she resembled her parents. They were tall and lean, whereas she was small and curvy. Her mother had been blue eyed with dark, honey blonde hair, and easily stood at 5’8”. Her father, with his light brown hair and equally light brown eyes, stood at 6’. And here was Katra, with amber eyes so light they were almost golden, and hair that naturally began with a vivid red at her roots and shifted lighter and lighter until it became a yellow orange shade at the ends.

  Katra straightened her spine as she stared her father firmly in the eyes. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. I wasn’t trying to undermine you or Daromir or disrespect you or whatever, and I certainly didn’t want to bring any trouble down on us. But this is what I am, dad. It’s who I am. I am a phoenix shifter—the only phoenix shifter. I can’t—no, I won’t allow an entire piece of me to go by unrecognized. Would you be willing to hide your wolf, to keep him shoved down into some small space, never able to see the light of day? Jesus Christ, dad, I’ve never even shifted. Do you know how wrong that feels? Could you handle that? Never shifting again?”

  “I could if it meant keeping you safe.”

  Once again, her dad has mastered the art of turning her guilt trip around on herself. But she wasn’t giving up easily this time. She knew that what she said—what she felt—was right.

  “Now who’s lying? The one who goes out every night to shift and run? Every single night, dad. You let your wolf free every single night, and my phoenix hasn’t even seen the sky once. I’m almost convinced that I don’t even have a real phoenix, that I’ve gone so long without ever shifting that I’ve simply…lost her. Or…maybe I never had her to begin with…” Katra’s throat closed up, and she forced the roughness aside with a hard swallow. A shifter’s animal was as much a part of them as their arm or leg, and to deny a part of themselves was as painful as denying their lungs air to breathe.

  Jakob sighed heavily, reaching out to cup Katra’s cheek with his hand, and she reveled in the comfort her father created for her, even as she could still feel his anger and frustration at her actions. “I only want to keep you safe, nebol’shoy ogon’. You are all I have left in this world.”

  Katra’s heart broke in her chest, and her guilt increased ten-fold. Through all her decisions, she never once considered what her dad would experience if anything were to happen to her. She mentally berated herself for how inconsiderate she was. “I know, dad. I love you.”

  Pulling her into a tight hug, Jakob responded with a whisper. “I love you too, nebol’shoy ogon’.”

  Chapter 3

  Marclan Negrescu found the entire situation unsettling.

  His hazel gaze mapped his brothers’ movements as they searched the cabin the girl and her father had abandoned for any clues or information about where they may have gone or who they were, though he continued to feel the weight of discomfort settle in the pit of his stomach throughout their search.

  Why couldn’t he tell what kind of shifter she was? Alekter, the strange sorcerer who had hired them, had only said that the thief was a powerful shifter—hence, the only reason why they were able to break into his mansion and steal his artifact—but how could any shifter break through spells woven by a sorcerer? And the fact that he repeatedly refused to clarify just what this priceless artifact was was more than a little odd to him. If this artifact was so important, shouldn’t they know what it looked like, so they could hopefully find it and return it to him? No, Alekter seemed less concerned with this supposed stolen item than he was with the alleged thief herself.

  Moreover, the girl herself was tiny, easily the smallest shifter he’d ever seen, standing no taller than 5’, maybe 5’1”, if he was being generous. Granted, she’d handled those .45’s with the kind of confidence that only came from years of experience, but even so, there was something about her demeanor that made him shy away from thinking she could have possibly stolen anything, much less stolen anything from a powerful sorcerer. The kind of supernaturals who stole from sorcerers were wicked, devious, and often times severely insane creatures. They had to be, to place themselves in such a precarious position. Her perfect form in handling the firearms was completely inconsequential; there wasn’t a shifter in existence that didn’t have at least a basic understanding of weapons and fighting techniques. It was in their blood. They were semi-wild creatures, and semi-wild creatures couldn’t make do without at least a little bit of violence in their life.

  And why in the hell couldn’t he tell what kind of shifter she was? Of all the causes for concern, this one topped his list. Every shifter in existence had a sort of smell or taste to them. Wolves smelled like the forest and freedom; hawks and falcons smelled like high, atmospheric air; lions tasted like the heat of the savannah. Even each of the dragon shifter types had a smell or taste, depending on their type of magic.

  This girl didn’t taste like anything. She didn’t smell like anything. If he didn’t know better, he would have said she was human.

  But the device given to them by Alekter to track down the thief had led straight to her.

  No, Marclan did not like this situation at all.

  “This guy must be some kind of history buff. Do you see all these books? This one must be at least 500 years old! Where did he get these?” Finley murmured as he gently stroked the spine of an admittedly
very old looking tome and gazed at it with ocean blue eyes the way most people would gaze at a pirate treasure or an expensive car. Marclan couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he watched his older brother swoon over the piece of history. Considering that the dragon shifter was a notorious player, it often went by unknown that he also happened to have a serious obsession with history, particularly anything supernatural related. Marclan stifled a laugh as his brother continued eye-fucking the old books spread out around the cabin.

  A fist slammed into the wall near the front door. “I don’t give a fuck if he’s a damn circus performer, we’re wasting time. There’s nothing here that will help us with catching the thief, so let’s get a move on. Our contract has a time limit and we’re losing daylight. I want to get this shit taken care of.” Kaster’s dark eyes bore into his two younger brothers as he ripped his fist from the hole he’d just created in the cabin wall. Marclan’s instinct to bring his brother’s anger down flared up as he moved towards Kaster.

  “We’ve got time. The teleportation rings he gave us will take us straight to her, wherever she is.” Marclan’s stomach flip-flopped as he spoke, and he could feel that nagging sense of not-rightness tying his gut into knots. He didn’t want to be encouraging Kaster to continue on with this contract. Everything about the situation left him feeling queasy with anxiety. But this was what he did—he was the voice of calm sent to settle the raging storm that was his older brother Kaster, even though he knew that Kaster’s rage was caused by something Marclan could never give him relief from.

  Kaster reached into his pocket and pull out a thin, golden band. Holding out his left arm, he shoved the band onto his upper forearm, then turned the golden cuff once, twice, three times, and watched as it grew into a golden plate covering his entire forearm, with swirls and loops marking its surface. The swirls on the device began to move around each other for a few moments until they finally stopped, pulsing once with a slight glow and a small vibration.

  “It’s got her. Let’s go.”

  Katra felt that she and her father had reached somewhat of an understanding as they stood there in each other’s arms, his massive body dwarfing her tiny one with familiarity and the sense of family, of childhood memories and comforting smiles.

  The calm feeling was abruptly cut off by the sound of glass shattering, and Katra’s eyes blinked open in surprise as she felt her father’s body be wrenched away from her by a gust of wind. Her startled gaze flew over to the window, where a stranger now stood in front of the window he had clearly just smashed open. The man was tall and lanky, almost to the point of appearing unhealthy, like he didn’t eat enough. His dirty blonde hair was long enough to nearly cover his gaze, but she was still able to peer directly into his emotionless brown eyes.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father struggling to stand back up after being knocked into the far wall by the force of the wind. She knew without a doubt that he would be starting to shift, and she could imagine the sight of his claws erupting from his fingers and his fangs growing in his mouth before his wolf took full control.

  But the man before her must have seen this coming, because he immediately lifted his arm up towards her father, and a bolt of lightning erupted from his hand, arcing through the room and straight into her father’s chest.

  Mage lightening. He was a Mage.

  Her heart stopped, dropped into the pit of her stomach, and then leapt back up into a galloping race so fast she thought it would burst right out of her chest, onto the floor, and out of the room.

  Rage. This was rage spurring her heart into a dizzying frenzy of adrenaline as she watched her father’s lifeless body lie on the floor, little tendrils of smoke wafting up from the small circle of charred flesh on his chest no bigger than a 50 cent piece, but still lethal enough to rip straight through bone into his heart, stopping it dead. This was rage that caused her to turn back to the mage, who was already beginning to make his way towards her with his hand still outstretched, but this time towards her. It was rage that had her reaching for the guns tucked into the back of her jeans, already knowing that the safety was off, because that was the way her father had trained her, her father who was now lying dead just a few feet away.

  She raised the guns, aiming for the mage.

  He narrowed his eyes at her as he let loose another bolt of lightning, but as the lightning made its way across the space towards her, his eyes slowly widened at the sight he undoubtedly had never seen before.

  Katra’s tiny tongues of flame danced through the air, forming a shield in front of her and eating away the lightning before it was ever able to reach her. The mage gaped at her has his arm slowly fell, clearly uncertain of how to proceed in this new and unsettling situation. His reaction was far from surprising; those who knew of the magic of a phoenix shifter were few and far between, limited only to historians and those obsessed with power.

  Brown eyes stared at her in dumbfounded shock, and Katra smirked as she squeezed the trigger on both guns at the same time, reveling in the powerful sensation of the gun’s backfire and the sight of two identical holes appearing in the face of the mage before he fell to the ground.

  Dead.

  Just like her father.

  And her mother.

  Dead, just like her entire family.

  Was everyone in her life doomed to die?

  A small sob escaped her throat as she whirled around and rushed to her father’s body, collapsing on the floor beside him, the .45’s in her hands dropping to the ground with a loud clank moments before she did. His eyes were still open, although they were as empty as the Sahara desert. Katra felt a sharp slice of pain in her chest at the realization that she would never see any emotion in those light brown eyes again, and she found herself wishing her mother were there to comfort her.

  But her mother was gone. And now, her father was too.

  Katra’s grief was so intense and all-consuming as she gazed down at her father that she didn’t even hear the quiet sound of someone creeping up behind her.

  A cold dagger suddenly appeared at her throat, pressing against her jugular hard enough to make her wince, and she automatically attempted to turn her head far enough to see the owner of the dagger but was stopped by a strong hand tangling in her hair, forcing head back. “Stand up, girl. We’re leaving.” A cold, feminine voice growled in her ear, and she was vaguely surprised at her complete inability to care about the threat to her life. Her heart and mind were still too wrapped up in her sudden loss, and she didn’t make a single move to stand, even when the sharp edge of the dagger made a shallow cut in her neck that stung with silver as the hand tangled in her hair tugged harshly.

  “I said, get up. Now. Before I kill you.”

  “You’re not gonna kill her. If you do, you won’t get your money.” The sudden appearance of a vaguely familiar voice was almost enough to startle Katra out of her state of shock, and she found herself trying to turn her head again to see who this new arrival was as she felt the nagging sensation of familiarity ratchet up a notch. There was a latent piece of her mind trying to rise up to the forefront through the cloud of grief, attempting to alert her as to who this new person was, but the grief was still too thick.

  “Who the fuck are you?” The woman responded sharply.

  “We’re your boss’s other employees, though not for long.” The dark, rough voice was definitely male, and it sounded particularly irate.

  “Yeah, well, you know what they say—finders keepers or whatever the fuck that saying is. Back off. I’m taking her in, not you.” There was another tug on her hair, and Katra finally felt her ire rising up at the irritating man-handling on the strange woman’s part. She became aware of the solid feel of the small knife tucked into the boot of right foot, and half-heartedly began considering ways she could reach for it without the woman noticing.

  “No, you’re really not.”

  “Heheh. I really am. You think I was the only one to come for her? My
partner over there is one of three. There are two more of us, and they’ll be here any second. And with only one of you…? Yeah—we’re definitely taking her.”

  There was an odd tug from behind Katra, and a second later the woman’s arms suddenly loosened before releasing her altogether. Startled, Katra turned to look behind her and saw none other than the hazel eyed man from back at the cabin, staring at her with a hesitant expression. Beside him was the slightly taller blue-eyed man, wearing the same over-confident smirk he wore when she first saw him, and she wondered if perhaps his face was simply incapable of expressing any other emotion.

  It was after a few seconds of shocked staring that she finally realized she didn’t see the woman who had been attempting to kidnap her. Noticing her confused look, the hazel eyed man made a pained face and glanced down at the ground. Following his gaze, she gasped in shock at the sight of a woman with short, spiked brown hair and surprisingly large, muscular arms, whose head was twisted almost all the way around.

  She looked back up at the two men. “Who did that?”

  The blue-eyed man glanced over at his partner, who looked almost…apologetic. “Her name was Bentley, and she was ruthless. The men she traveled with are just as bad. We should really leave. Soon.”

  Katra blinked. “…Bentley? Her name was seriously Bentley?”

  “I know, right? She looks like her name should be Axel or something.” The blue-eyed shifter agreed with a small chuckle.

  “Well, I don’t think I’d have gone that far, but I can say with certainty that Bentley would not have been at the top of my list of possible names for a woman like her.” Glancing down again, Katra marveled over the sheer size of the woman’s arms, legs, and…well, just about everything. She was probably about 6’, and had a face that looked like it was carved from stone.

  “Speaking of names, mine is Finley. Finley Negrescu. And these are my brother’s, Marclan and Kaster.” The blue-eyed man—Finley—motioned to the hesitant hazel-eyed man, followed by the tall, brooding man, who looked like he was about ready to pop a blood vessel. His angry gaze was focused on the dead woman, though, and Katra wondered what the hell the woman had ever done to warrant such a fierce look. His eyes then lifted to hers, never losing their intensity.