Phoenix: The Rising

by Bette Maybee

  Eli made his way down the hallway to Mr. Mason’s study. The door stood ajar, and from the condition of the room, it looked as though Renatta had done some pilfering. Had she found the DVR herself? Eli prayed to God that she hadn’t. After a quick look around the room, Eli noticed a power cord and cable running from the floor to a small opening on the bottom of the desk. Was the DVR in there? A nail file jammed into the lock of the main desk drawer was enough proof that Renatta had tried to gain access to its contents. Eli pulled on each drawer. The ones on the right opened with ease, but the main drawer and the larger lower one on the left where the cords were held fast. It had to be in there!

  Eli scoured through the objects on top of the desk, hoping to find the key, but he knew he wouldn’t. Mr. Mason would have kept it on himself, especially if he had been collecting evidence on his wife’s indiscretions. He sighed in resignation and grasped the bottom of the lower drawer. He had to do it. Guilt and anticipation, like an alcoholic about to relapse, flooded his thoughts. It had been imperative for him to keep this part of his powers in check throughout most of this lifetime. If he hadn’t, then he could have easily killed Kas with the blow he dealt him the night Kas attacked Julie. After all, it had happened before, and the feeling of killing a human had left him shaken, even when he had to kill to protect someone. Mastering self-control of his strength took decades, and it was just in the twentieth century that it became a natural way of life for him. Until now.

  Eli closed his eyes for just a moment. That’s all it took for him to feel the buzz in his arm. He yanked, and the wood splintered as the drawer flew out of the desk.

  Sitting on the floor beside his feet was the DVR, its cords still attached. Eli lifted the DVR to his lap and hit the OPEN button.

  “It’s empty.”

  “What do you mean?” Julie’s voice sounded foggy, as if she had been sleeping.

  Eli sighed into the phone. “The DVR is empty. Your father must have taken the disc. Do you have any idea where he would have put it for safekeeping?”

  “Safekeeping ... safe …yes! He has a wall safe, hidden behind the paneling next to the portrait of my mother. Just push on the panel, and it should pop open.”

  Eli looked around the room. The painting was near a corner, almost hidden from view. As he neared it, he couldn’t believe what he saw. Green eyes, exactly like Julie’s, stared back at him. As a matter of fact, it could have been a portrait of Julie, except for the flowing, copper hair. This was what Julie would look like in a few years. Eli’s heart flipped in his chest, knowing he would never see her like this. He reached up and touched the face. The painting parted beneath his fingers. Someone had slashed it from corner to corner.

  “I found the painting. Looks like Renatta may have taken out her frustrations on it.”

  “No. It wasn’t her.” Julie paused for just a moment, but it was long enough for Eli to know. She did this. Her next words confirmed it. “I’m afraid that was my handiwork. I didn’t take her abandoning us well.”

  Eli couldn’t blame her. What type of woman would leave her child at a time when she needed her the most? Eli tried to choose his words carefully. “That’s understandable. I’m sure it was a horrible time in your life.”

  “Did you find the panel?”

  It was obvious that Julie did not want to talk about this, so Eli didn’t push her. Instead he pushed on the wall. A twelve-inch square popped open, revealing the front of a small safe.

  “Got it.” He pulled on the handle. “It’s locked. You don’t happen to know the combination, do you?” He knew he’d be able to open it without much difficulty, but there was no sense in causing more damage.

  “It just so happens that I do. Dad made sure I knew it in case of an emergency. Try 7-21-45. His mother’s birthdate.”

  Eli flipped the dial and pulled on the handle. It slid open, revealing a small stack of hundred dollar bills and nothing else. Eli’s heart sank.

  “It’s open, but all I see is money.”

  “There’s a false bottom. Try that.”

  Eli pushed the money to the side and pried open the bottom. A handgun and some shells sat guarding the only other thing occupying the small space. A video disc.

  “I think I may have found it!”

  “That—that’s great! Check it out on Dad’s computer.”

  Eli walked over to the desk. “This will take a minute.” He thought he had heard a hesitation in her voice a moment earlier. “How are you doing? You sound a little different.”

  “Oh, I’m just a bit tired and sore. Got poked a lot today.” Her voice seemed to rise in pitch, as if she were lying. Something was wrong. “Is it ready yet?”

  Eli knew she was avoiding his question, but he also knew she might shut down if he pushed her into answering any more questions about herself. He plugged the DVD into the computer, and the screen came to life. “It’s in. I’ll fast-forward.”

  Julie remained silent on the other end of the line as Eli scanned the DVD.

  “Well?”

  Eli couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This was either going to be very good or very, very bad. “The only incriminating evidence on here is Renatta’s activity with the pool boy. The last date on the DVD is a couple of days before the dance. Either your dad took the other disc, or he didn’t put a new one in.”

  Julie sighed. “Since Dad hasn’t mentioned anything, I’m sure that he just forgot to put another one in. He got his evidence. There wasn’t any need for any more video.”

  Her reasoning made sense. “I agree. Your dad’s pretty easy to read, and if he knew anything, he would have already told you, considering that you would have been on the video.”

  “You still have to find her, Eli.”

  Eli tucked the DVD into its sleeve, stuck it back into its hiding place in the safe, and closed the door. “I’ll do my best, Jules, but locating Charsey will be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I don’t even know where to start.” Eli hesitated. “Is there anything you can remember, Julie? Anything at all?”

  Silence.

  “There were two of them.” Eli could hear a tremor building in Julie’s voice. She sounded terrified. “One was huge. Reminded me of Remy. The other was smaller than him. Slimmer. That’s the one who ... the one with the knife. It looked like they were both wearing hoodies.” Julie hesitated. “I’m sorry. That’s all I remember.” Eli heard a voice talking in the background. Julie wasn’t alone.

  “I have to go, Eli. Dad’s here. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Eli flipped his phone shut. The voice he’d heard in the background was a woman’s voice, not her father’s. She was hiding something from him, but he didn’t have the heart to call her on it. He also didn’t have the heart to break it to her that there was no way the Nephilim would have just injured Charsey. They went for the kill as far as the Fire-Child was concerned. That was the only way to make sure. But, from their M.O., they would also make sure Charsey’s body would be found. Seemed they had a bit of a conscience after all. Grace was right. They had become watered-down through the centuries, and their humanity had a strong hold on them. Only a first-generation wouldn’t care if the body were found. They were heartless. Thank God there weren’t any of those around.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The nightmares were different now. Instead of focusing on the blasphemous union between her human mother and the winged creature that fathered her, the nightmares morphed into visions concentrating on finding the Fire-Child, incapacitating it and claiming her birthright.

  Lucy sat curled into a ball on a chair in the corner of Dan Penemue’s bedroom, staring at his sleeping form and wondering if he had the same prophetic visions. Considering that he hadn’t moved since his head hit the pillow, she assumed not. Either that, or he was completely unfazed by the fact that there would only be one Nephilim left standing at the end of this. Claiming the birthright involved so much more than just keeping the Fire-Child from its rebirth. It meant death. Death of the other
Nephilim. There could be only one victor in this, and Lucy was going to make damned sure it was her.

  But for now, they needed each other to expose the identity of the Fire-Child. According to Dan, his family was the only known remnant of the Nephilim bloodline in the area. Normally only one child, a male, was born into that bloodline, and then passed it on to his son. Dan’s father, however, had a twin, so the bloodline branched. And then branched again. They would be getting some help. Killing more than one wasn’t going to be easy, especially since they had already practiced their killing skills on two other humans. She was new at this game. But maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to be the one to do all the killing. If she played her cards right, they would end up taking each other out.

  Lucy still couldn’t figure out why had she been brought into this mess in the first place, or how Dan knew that she would be traveling on that deserted road in the middle of Death Valley at that particular moment. Dan, however, had a vague answer for the second part of the mystery. He simply had a vision. Lucy had a feeling that the answer to the first question would be revealed to her, and only her, in time. She had an idea that it had something to do with the fact that the traits they inherited had weakened through the generations. Sure, they were big, with slightly super-human strength, but Dan also didn’t appear to be the brightest bulb in the box. She couldn’t imagine someone of his intelligence living forever. Immortality wasted on a dolt? It couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it.

  Dan stretched, then let loose a long, rolling fart. Lucy could have hurled right there on his bedroom floor. How on Earth could he be of the same heritage as her?

  “Take me to Bishop.” Lucy stood by his bed and tapped his arm with her bag. She wanted to belt the side of his big head with it, but fought the urge. He swatted it away, rolled over, and looked at his alarm clock.

  “Shit. I’m late.” Throwing his covers back, Dan hopped out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts and a football jersey.

  “Late for what?” Lucy sat back down.

  “School.” Dan produced a backpack from beside his dresser, and flung it over his shoulder.

  “School? As in high school?” Lucy couldn’t believe it. He looked so much older than a high school student.

  “Yeah. My second year as a senior. Guess they couldn’t stand to part with their star football player.”

  Lucy stood. “So how in the hell am I supposed to get to Bishop? You promised you’d take me there.”

  Dan grabbed the keys to his pick-up. “You’re not going anywhere until Wednesday morning. It could take that long...”

  Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. She had tried not to think about the broken body of the redhead stuffed into the woodshed on the abandoned farm down the road. Dan had checked on it exactly twenty-fours hours after he broke the girl’s neck. She hadn’t moved a muscle. But, according to Dan, if it was the Fire-Child, it could take a full three days to rise.

  “Why in the hell do I need to stay? If it is the Fire-Child, it could get up and walk away at any moment, and then you’d know.”

  “But if it isn’t, then I may need some help dumping it out where it can be found.”

  Lucy shook her head. “Why do you do that, anyways? What difference does it make to you if the body’s found or not?”

  Dan stopped and stared at her. “I’m not a monster, Lucy. If she’s not the Fire-Child, then she’s somebody’s daughter. What type of a person would I be if I just kept her body hidden forever? Her parents would always wonder what happened to her.”

  Dan’s reasoning was so warped. So ... human. “What type of a person would you be?” Lucy had to keep herself from screaming it. “You—we—are the offspring of fallen angels. Fallen. Not the chosen ones. Not Michael. Or Gabriel. We’re murderers, Dan. We want only one thing. Our birthright. And we’ll kill anything, anyone, in order to get it.” Lucy’s breath had become ragged with rage. She had changed so much in the last forty-eight hours, transforming from a normal, carefree, sixteen year old girl to a cold-blooded, seventeen year old killer. A Nephilim. It was like a switch had been flipped.

  Dan cocked his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as he stared at her in silence. Had she said too much? She had a feeling that he wasn’t quite comprehending that by anyone, she meant each other. But, if he didn’t understand that, she certainly wasn’t going to offer him the explanation. It was best to just cover her tracks.

  “Look what you made me do to that other girl. She was an innocent.” Anyone now became the blonde she had so easily killed. Dan rolled his eyes. Her diversion worked!

  “She was a loose end, Lucy. A witness. You know it had to be done.” He grabbed the remote and pointed it at the TV. “Speaking of our little expendable, has it been on the news yet? Have they found her body?”

  Lucy shook her head. “I had the TV on last night. No one’s reported a thing.”

  “Shit. Well, I’m set to clean that pool today after school. Renatta, I mean the ‘lady of the house’, always drags me to the pool house when I’m there. Can’t keep her hands off me. There’s no way she’ll miss it. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “Then you can take me there. To Bishop, I mean. After school.” Dan couldn’t refuse her a ride to Bishop when he was already heading there himself.

  Dan growled. “I guess that would be okay. But you have to promise to help me dump the body if it comes to that.” Lucy nodded in feigned acquiescence. “Be ready to go at three.” The lock clicked behind him.

  ****

  Dan’s mother had left just after sunrise for her job as a maid at a local motel, and Lucy didn’t have to worry about disturbing his father. According to Dan, both his father and his father’s twin died just over a year ago, ironically only about two weeks apart, and both from enlarged hearts. This type of malady took out most of the descendants of the first Nephilim. Their hearts just couldn’t support the strain put on them by their massive bodies. A few were taken out in a more malicious way: by drowning. With heavier than normal bone mass, swimming was not possible among those of her kind. That explained why her mother yanked her out of swim lessons after her own near-drowning experience as a child. She hadn’t been near a swimming pool since.

  There was a lot that Lucy didn’t know about her heritage, and she wasn’t about to go into this relying solely on Dan Penemue’s meager explanation. If the Bible could get some things right, then maybe other scholars had stumbled across some truths. Lucy sat at the small wooden desk set up in Dan’s room and fired up the Mac, hoping that a good search would give her some answers.

  Four hours later, she knew more than she ever wanted, and prayed that some of the stories were simply myths, but her gut told her that most of it was true, just as her gut had told her to go to Bishop. Absorbing most of these newfound facts was sort of like reading an instruction manual, or a cookbook. But, there was one overriding theme throughout everything that she had read, and the message was plain and simple. She was born of evil, as were all Nephilim.

  According to several sources, the original Fallen Ones were bound in Hell for their atrocities. Not only did they come to Earth and mate with human women, but they also turned their backs on God, and for that, they had to pay. One of them, however, escaped eternal damnation and was doled out a different punishment.

  Phoenix, swept up in the frenzy of the angelic revolt, fled to Earth with his siblings, intent on wreaking havoc with the humans, but when he saw the mayhem, he had a change of heart and repented before releasing his lust on a human woman. Instead of being bound in Hell with his brothers, he was sentenced to live his life out on Earth as a creature in human form that had to give up all memory of its past life every three hundred years. That life would be extinguished in flames, but he would be given a chance to live another. Only in the last moments of his Earthly life would he experience the full glory of his heavenly inheritance, taking on the form of an angelic being, but prior to those last few moments, it would become weakened. Seemingly near death. And it would be duri
ng that weakened state when Lucy would make her move and claim her birthright.

  But, what about her father? Had he escaped his chains in Hell, only to hunt down Adrienne Temeluch and impregnate her? Were there others like her? Her gut told her there were only a few Nephilim in the vicinity, but they were of the old bloodline. Hers was new and strong, and she felt no presence of other new first-born. Yet.

  “What are you doing?”

  Lucy hit the exit button and spun around to see Dan leaning in the doorway, his keys twirling on his index finger.

  “Just surfing the net. Not much to do in this one-horse town.”

  Dan picked up her bag and threw it at her. “It’s three o’clock. Time to go, unless you want to spend another night with me.”

  Lucy snatched her bag and stood. “No thanks. One night was enough. I’ll take my chances in Bishop. I might run into someone I know.” She also knew that she might accidentally kill him if he tried to touch her again. She smiled at the thought.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I’m looking for relatives. My mother went to high school here.” The woman behind the counter at the Bishop Reservation headquarters munched a bag of cheese balls and stared at Lucy through thick, black, plastic-rimmed glasses, her double braids reinforcing the stoic Paiute heritage evident on each face she encountered since walking through the doors. She sucked the greasy, orange crumbs off her fingers, then wiped the spit-glistened remnants away with a used tissue.

  “I’ll have to see an I.D.”

  Lucy dug in her front pocket and produced her driver’s license. The woman grunted as she hefted her weight out of the chair then snagged the license from Lucy’s shaking hand. It was obvious that Lucy was causing a major inconvenience to the woman. She glanced at Lucy, then at the license, and back once again at Lucy.