Phoenix Rising (Maggie Henning & The Realm Book 1)

by Lisa Morgan

  “Well,” I bit out, falling into a bean bag chair I hadn’t noticed in the room before. “Vampires drink blood, and they stalk victims—”

  Seatha’s hand shot to her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles as I went on, “They stalk their victims and then bite them. If they can get them to, they make them drink some of their blood and turn them into vampires, too.”

  Autumn’s face was actually glowing with amusement. “Anything else, oh Sage one?”

  “As a matter of fact,” I went on, “they can’t go in the sunlight because they’ll burn up.”

  “Of course,” Seatha added.

  I rolled my eyes. “They sleep all day—”

  “In coffins?” the witch prodded through a smile.

  I ignored her. “And they only come out at night.”

  “Just like the moon!” Seatha shouted, bursting into a fit of giggles.

  “Stop it!” I commanded, my aggravation rising. “If I’m so off, why don’t you two brainiacs clue me in then?”

  Autumn sobered herself before Seatha could. She was still smiling, but the witch had made an attempt at getting herself together. “Maggie, you watch too many horror movies.”

  “Fine,” I admitted, feeling distressed at what I had ‘known’ about vampires.

  “It’s true that vampires drink blood, and they do have fangs, but it’s not like in the movies. Vampires are the creation of angels,” Autumn said.

  “Angels?” I asked in disbelief. Both the fae and the witch nodded.

  “But, that’s a story for another day,” Seatha offered.

  “True,” the witch agreed, looking to me for a signal to continue. I waved my hand at her, and she did. “Because vampires were created by angels, the blood they require comes from them, angels, or other vampires.”

  “So Michel has to hunt down an angel to get a meal?” I asked.

  Seatha was amused again; she laughed loudly. “That would be a sight!”

  “The angels willingly give their blood to keep the vampires alive, part of some ancient agreement or something. The Realm keeps a supply of it at various locations, The Trust being one such place.”

  I deduced, slightly disgusted. “Somewhere in this big old house is a fridge full of angel’s blood?”

  “Something like that,” Autumn answered. “Vampires, as you know from your little ride home, can walk in the sunlight. They are photosensitive and tend to get bad sunburns if they’re in it for many hours. The Realm has sunlight, but the same magicks that shield it from the human world also offers a sort of filter for the UV rays.”

  “What …” I paused, not sure if I wanted the answer, “what about heartbeats?”

  “They do not have heartbeats,” Seatha explained. “But not because they’re dead, or risen again like revenants. It’s just the way they were created. It is a rare gift for a vampire to have a heartbeat. And they weren’t born or carried in their mothers like human babies.

  “If a male and female vampire, mated together for life, wish to have offspring, they make an offering to the angels. If that offering is suitable, the angels give them a child. If not, they must wait and try to improve the offering.”

  “How long do they have to wait?” I found myself asking, entranced by this information.

  “At least fifty years,” Seatha added.

  “Fifty years?” I exclaimed. “As in, like, five zero?”

  “Exactly like that. Vampires, as all creatures in The Realm, don’t age like humans. Fifty years is not so very long to those who could live hundreds of years,” Autumn informed.

  “Hundreds of years,” I breathed out. “How old is Michel?”

  The girls looked at each other, seemingly trying to come up with a number.

  Seatha answered, tapping her chin. “I think, if I remember correctly, Michel appears to be at the human age of twenty-four, but his Realm age is closer to three hundred years.”

  “Did you say,” I swallowed back, “three hundred years?”

  “Give or take a decade,” Autumn replied, nodding.

  “Holy crap!” I exclaimed, rubbing my eyes in disbelief.

  “But,” Autumn went on, “vampires are not like others. Their emotions run strong and fierce. When they find a mate, they stay together forever.”

  “And they fight in battles without mercy. I’ve seen it,” Seatha added. “They’re fast, too. But just as their speed is amplified, so are their emotions. When they hate, they hate completely, but when they love, that’s when you have to worry.”

  “Why?” I asked, feelings of apprehension creeping in.

  “Because when they love,” Autumn answered dreamily, “they love completely, too. There is nothing they wouldn’t do for the one they care for. Many a vampire has gone to their death in the name of the one they love.”

  “The rest of it,” Seatha added, “is made up for television and Hollywood. Vampires don’t sleep all day or in coffins. Crosses don’t bother them, and as you will find out when you eat Luc’s cooking, they love garlic.”

  Autumn asked, “So … What’s wrong with Michel?”

  “I didn’t say anything was wrong with him,” I answered, still trying to take in my new knowledge of vampires.

  “He was talking about you,” Seatha smirked devilishly. “Yesterday, when he got back, and then again in the evening. He’d left the house to try to find and talk to you. He called Luc to help him when he’d heard about your father inside the hospital. Liam told us.”

  “He knew it was the revenants and that you were in danger,” Autumn interrupted, her smile growing even wider. “Looks like you have a hero, Maggie.”

  Sixteen

  I had trouble falling asleep. After the slumber party talk and their jabbing at my less than accurate vampire knowledge, I’d changed the subject to one about movies. Following much debate and two batches of fresh popcorn spilled on the floor, the three of us bought a pay-per-view flick to watch. With our sleeping bags spread out on the floor, the latest Pixar film came on the screen.

  Autumn made mention of the brilliant technology used in making the films, while Seatha had rolled her eyes at the predicable plot line. I’d laid down, closed my eyes, and pretended to fall asleep. My roommates for the night followed soon afterward.

  When I was certain that they’d truly fallen asleep, signaled by Seatha’s unexpected lumberjack snoring, I quietly pulled back my sleeping bag. Tiptoeing between them, I carefully tugged the door open and walked into the hallway.

  I went downstairs, and the house was eerily quiet. I didn’t hear anything except the rumblings of the television from my room above. The lights were off with only the moonlight shining in the windows to illuminate my way. It was enough; the moon was almost full.

  The marble designs in the floor almost seemed living, cast in a pale blue light. I still stepped carefully around them, worried I was committing some terrible Realm mistake by putting my feet down on the image.

  I spared a glance to the library. The desk sat empty, and the top was entirely cleaned off, only solidifying what I’d thought I heard earlier about my grandfather making a mess with the ink. The chiming of the wall clock put my heart in my throat, the deep tones calling out the hour; three in the morning. Taking a few breaths with my hands on my chest, I settled myself down.

  I saw the front entry door was slightly ajar, and took a few steps closer before I stopped. There was a noise sneaking in from outside. A few steps closer, and I was able to discern what it was.

  The melody I’d heard in the music store called me to it again like the Piper to the snakes. I opened the front door carefully. It seemed heavier than it had this afternoon, and I blamed it on my cautiousness.

  Peeking around the frame, I saw Michel sitting in one of the rocking chairs. With only the full moon for light, in his hands he held an acoustic guitar. As he’d done in the store, his fingers glided over the strings, his right hand plucking and strumming like a master. His other stroked the neck, a dance of rising and falling notes,
lulling me into a sway.

  Michel’s eyes were closed, as if the haunting melody had taken him away. I found myself moving closer to the tune, unable to stop myself. Timid, measured steps—afraid that if Michel noticed he’d stop playing—and I didn’t want the song to end.

  I watched the song come alive as Michel strummed across the strings. I felt like I could listen and watch him play forever. Every now and then, he would move his head to the side, not to get his hair out of his eyes, but more like he couldn’t help it, so caught up in the tune.

  The tempo slowed, and the notes turned melancholy. It was like the music was telling me a story I hadn’t heard before, one that was sad yet resolved. I found my eyes misting and tried to tell myself it was the crisp night air. The music slowed further until on a series of four ascending notes, the song came to an end. Michel sat still, holding the guitar to him and not looking up.

  “That was beautiful,” I whispered when he finally opened his lids and looked at me, lowering the guitar a little.

  “Thank you,” he replied, offering a small nod of his head.

  “Does it have a name?”

  “All songs have a name,” Michel told me softly, looking back to the guitar. “That one was called ‘Song of the Phoenix’.”

  I swallowed. “It was enchanting.”

  Michel jerked his head to the side to throw his hair back from his face before he answered, “I find many things … enchanting.”

  A chill shot up my spine while my heart thumped inside me.

  “You’re cold?” he asked, standing and setting aside his guitar.

  “Not really,” I offered, suddenly feeling very warm. “It’s just the fresh air. I’m not much of a night person, like you.” Crap! Maggie, do you ever think before you speak?

  “I find a certain peace at night while the world is so very quiet, don’t you?” Michel offered me his hand.

  “I never really thought about it,” I admitted. The coolness of his hand ran up my arm to my neck. It was both alarming and exciting.

  “Will you walk with me?” he requested, gesturing down the steps with his free hand. “I can assure you, you’ll be very safe with me.”

  Racing heart again.

  I nodded, unable to force my mouth to form words. Michel kept my hand in his as he shortened his steps to keep pace with me.

  We walked in silence to the other side of the house. It also had gardens and a path, but this side had the added bonus of a swimming pool. It was illuminated from under the water, shades of purple danced under the chlorine scented ripples. Michel opened the metal gate to the pool fence and gestured me inside toward the water’s edge. I obeyed, stepping onto the surrounding concrete. A mist floated above the surface, the contrasting cloud informing me the water was warmer than the chilly predawn air temperature. I looked at Michel when he dropped my hand.

  “Do you swim?” he asked, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on one of the Adirondack chairs that faced the water.

  Again, I found my thoughts murky as I took him in. His broad shoulders, angled wider than his waist. His arms, the muscles under his skin taunt and defined. I was fairly confident from what I saw before me that Michel carried a negative amount of body fat.

  “Maggie?” he asked again, pulling me back to the present, a smile on his lips worn like it was second nature.

  “Hmm,” I replied, clearing my head with tremendous difficulty.

  He spoke tenderly, walking to the poolside and splashing a handful of water at me playfully, “I asked do you swim?”

  “Oh,” I giggled. Really? Giggling? Who the heck was I? “Ah, yeah, I can swim.”

  “Excellent,” Michel cheered, now standing before me.

  How the heck had he moved so fast?

  “I’d so hoped you’d say that,” he responded, grabbing my arms and pulling me toward the water.

  “But I—”

  I didn’t get to finish. Michel wrapped me in his arms and jumped into the warm water, taking me with him.

  I scrambled to the surface, coughing up the little water I’d inhaled, and swiped hair off my face. Michel was treading water a few feet from me, that same smile arching his lips.

  “I was going to say,” I remarked, pulling myself to the side and holding on, “that I don’t have a suit, just my pajamas.”

  “My bad,” Michel offered as an apology in a tone that told me he didn’t feel the slightest amount of remorse.

  I watched him dip below the surface, and I trailed his path with my eyes thanks to the purple sub-aquatic lighting. He pulled with his arms, leaving his legs straight out behind him. He didn’t bother to come up for air until he was right in front of me.

  He broke the surface, his head tilted backward to keep his long hair out of his face, most of it floating out behind him. From this angle, I could see the chisel of his chin, finely sculpted like a piece of art. To say the view was stunning would be like saying The Great Wall in China was just a fence.

  He brought his head and shoulders level with mine, wiping the water from his face. I watched his movements as he put his arms to either side of my shoulders, planting his hands on the deck. The moonlight and pool lighting made his eyes change into a dazzling, almost-indigo color.

  “But do you really mind?” Michel asked softly, a look of fierce determination on his features. I wasn’t sure if I should run away and hide or melt right there. I opted to go with my normal response. I nodded my head.

  “Then we shall get out,” Michel suggested, leaning back somewhat. “And I will offer my apologies.”

  “No!” I called out with a little too much emphasis, grabbing his arm. “I mean, I’m good. No big deal.” I looked to the water again, chuckling at my idiocy.

  “Why do you always look down when I talk to you?” Michel questioned.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You do,” he pressed.

  I forced myself to look at him and spoke softly. “I guess that you scare me a little.”

  Michel pulled back at the confession, his head tilting to the left, his smile gone and a look of disappointment taking its place. “I scare you? Then why did you allow me to drive you home?”

  “I …” I had no answer.

  “Why do you stay here?” Michel went on, inching closer to me in the water. “In the pool with me if I frighten you?”

  “Not scared,” I corrected myself, again not able to meet his looks. “Nervous. You make me nervous.”

  My admission seemed to please him, and his smile returned, the merest hint of extra-long canines peeking from his lips. Oddly, I didn’t find them scary, but alluring.

  He closed the gap between us, only stopping when I felt his chest against mine. I could feel his breath on my forehead as he was looking down at the top of my head, and I realized just how much taller than me he really was.

  His hair floated around the pool, encircling me. I couldn’t help but reach out and touch a few of the strands that floated by. I felt him shudder, and heat raced through me. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before.

  Suddenly, Michel pulled away, leaving a wider space than I would’ve liked at that moment. His eyes shot behind me, looking to something I couldn’t see.

  “What is it?” I asked, feeling nervous.

  “My brother has returned,” Michel answered in a growl.

  “Okay,” I replied, dragging out the word. Michel crossed the distance to the pool’s steps with one long pull of his arms and climbed out, his jeans offering a steady stream of water.

  “You should get some sleep,” Michel suggested, handing me a towel as I climbed out of the water. The night air felt much colder than it had before my little swim.

  “Tomorrow,” Michel said, standing close to me again, “I will help you train.”

  If by train you mean a few hours of passionate making out, I’m so down, I thought to myself.

  Michel’s grin widened, and a sparkle hinted in those beautiful eyes. I felt embarrassed about my thoughts, but
was determined to play it cool.

  “Sure,” I answered nonchalantly, drying off my arms before wrapping the terry cloth towel around me. “No problem.”

  “Excellent,” Michel replied, opening the pool gate.

  We walked back to the house without saying anything else. I thought about trying to hold his hand again, but chickened out.

  When we made it to the porch, I turned to thank him for the unexpected swim and caught a glimpse of someone walking up the long driveway. The person was too far away to make out any distinct features.

  “Your brother?” I asked, seeing Michel’s face draw in as he watched the figure stalk up the drive. Michel nodded.

  “Yes, and he looks pissed.” He looked at me as he opened the door. “Good night, Maggie.”

  “Night, Michel.” I turned and entered the house as he shut the door behind me, remaining outside to greet his brother.

  I dripped the whole way through the foyer and up the stairs. The steps were slippery, so I decided to change into dry clothes and then grab a fresh towel to mop up my mess.

  I opened the bedroom door cautiously and tiptoed my way through the sleeping guests on the floor, hoping I didn’t drip water on them. Quickly, and as silently as possible, I crept into my bathroom, changed out of my wet clothes, and grabbed an armful of towels. I shut the bath light off before I opened the door so as not to disturb Autumn or Seatha. Using the TV for light, I stepped over them and headed back to the door.

  I heard Seatha chuckle quietly. “Did he bite you?” she said, trying to stifle her giggle.

  “I have no idea what you mean,” I whispered back.

  “Sure you do,” Autumn replied, the smile I couldn’t see was clear in her voice. “Your room has a pool view.”

  Seventeen

  I didn’t get much sleep after Seatha and Autumn finished their teasing. To their credit, they did help me wipe up the water I’d trailed through the house. Luckily, I hid my disappointment at not running into Michel as we’d cleaned. When I finally dozed off, it was a deep, dreamless sleep, the second time in recent memory I wasn’t plagued by nightmares. Just like the first, it had been under this roof, too.

  I woke to find myself tucked into my bed. Sitting up and taking stock, I discovered the room was back to how it’d been when I woke the day before. There was no sign the sleepover had happened. I was more than a little saddened to see that even the disco ball was gone.