Phoenix Rising (Maggie Henning & The Realm Book 1)

by Lisa Morgan

  “Your journey has just begun, Maggie. His is ending. You must let go,” my grandfather urged softly in my ear.

  That’s when I realized I’d reached for Michel’s hand. I was holding it tightly, looking for some sign he was still inside the lifeless flesh I held. My grandfather’s hand slid down my arm and came to rest on top of mine, asking me to release Michel without speaking the words aloud. A wave of consoling teased its way into my thoughts, and I saw Seatha standing on the opposite side of Michel’s body, sending the gentle thought to aid me.

  With reluctance, and every ounce of courage I had inside, I let go of Michel, carefully returning his hand to its position on the sword.

  My grandfather wrapped his arm around my shoulder, tenderly turning me from Michel, and began to escort me from the chamber. A room that once I could have imagined was the most lavish room I’d ever seen was now a cold mausoleum.

  “Will I return when the angels come?” I asked softly as we made our way to the exit, my eyes on the floor.

  “No,” was my grandfather’s weak response.

  “Why?” I inquired, watching my feet begrudgingly push me further away from Michel.

  “When the angels arrive, they will use angel fire and his body will be consumed.” My grandfather’s voice was full of reluctance, telling me he hadn’t wanted to share this with me because I’d suffered enough.

  I stopped short, yanking my hand from his.

  The vision I’d held to, of graceful white wings sweeping in, was smashed and twisted. I saw black, evil things, desecrating Michel. I thought I heard him screaming out in agony.

  “Long ago, when the first angels fell and struck their deal, becoming the race you know as vampire, it was with the condition that, in addition to not having the ability to reproduce without angelic intervention, upon passing through Shadow and into death, the angels would reclaim them,” Liam taught.

  “But …” I hesitated, anger flaring as the fantastic stories of my youth about angels protecting us were shattered.

  In answer to my question, he continued softly, “All agreements come with a price. Their souls go with the angels, to serve them in eternity.”

  “Michel will be a slave?” I asked in disbelief.

  Liam didn’t reply with words, instead hanging his head to avoid my glare, answering my question with an unsaid affirmation.

  “But he didn’t make that deal!” I lashed out. “His parent’s asked for him, for children! It’s not fair!”

  “Life, in all its many forms, is not fair,” Liam reminded me tenderly. “It is the way of things.”

  Grasping at straws, I begged for some glimmer of hope, wanting to hear something, anything, that Michel would find peace. “He’ll see his mother again, right? His family and those he cared for? He’ll be happy? He won’t be suffering?”

  “Margaret,” my grandfather spoke gravely, raising his face to mine.

  I studied his expression for doubt, but found none. He must be wrong! He doesn’t know for sure, he only knows the stories that have been passed down. He’s wrong, damn it! He has to be wrong!

  “This is the way of it,” my grandfather finished, walking toward me.

  I raised my hands to stop him, tears falling from my eyes in a river of denial. I screamed as this new knowledge of what lay ahead for Michel ripped me apart, my wail bouncing off the walls before falling silent.

  I didn’t feel Liam’s hands wrap around me. I took no note of the king’s words spoken to my grandfather other than hearing a low rambling command. My vision warped as the sick and blackness took hold. I felt the pull of my body as we began to leave Celine and return to The Trust.

  Before I lost consciousness, I caught sight of Luc watching me from the archway, and I heard a disembodied voice that sounded so similar to mine, screaming out Michel’s name.

  Forty Three

  Hours drifted into days at The Trust, and I spent most of them shut inside my bedroom, ignoring the world that continued to revolve even as my own had stopped. I didn’t turn on the lights when night fell. I didn’t bother looking out the windows when the sunlight crept across my floor. I could see the dust motes hanging in the air just fine from my position; curled into a ball, clutching tightly to a pillow.

  By day five, I’d crawled into the bath, filling the tub with cool water, trying to match the temperature I’d felt when Michel’s hands had touched me.

  I heard the others in the house when they walked in the hallway outside my room. Voices lowered near my door, and steps would pause sometimes while Autumn and Seatha pondered whether or not to knock.

  However, it had been Davis to finally be the brave one. Knocking, he spoke to me from the other side of my portal. “Maggie?” he queried through the wood, waiting for my answer.

  I didn’t give one.

  “I didn’t know the vamp—” He stopped himself, rethinking his words. “Michel. I wish I had. Autumn says he was a great fighter. But that brother of his? He’s a real jerk.”

  I sat up on my bed, crossing my legs and hugging my pillow closer.

  “If he calls me ‘dog’ one more time,” Davis went on, “or whistles at me to come to the table when dinner is ready, I’m gonna have to rip those pointy teeth out of his mouth.”

  I smiled at the lycan’s threat—my first smile in a week— as I pictured the ribbing that must’ve been going on between the two alpha males.

  He went on softly through my door, “I saw that newspaper. The one you’d recognized.”

  There was silence. I held my breath, waiting for him to continue. His voice was muffled when he spoke again.

  “I never learned how to read human words, just those symbols The Realm uses, but Autumn … she can read them. She’s been trying to teach me, but it’s kind of hard.

  “That fairy teased me when she found the witch and I sitting on the porch. Autumn found some old kid’s books she thought I might like. I didn’t get the joke until Seatha told me the book was called See Spot Run.”

  That was sort of funny, I admitted to myself. Climbing off my bed, I tiptoed toward the door and leaned my head against the jamb.

  “Autumn,” he continued, sounding like he was defending the young witch, “she says she didn’t mean it like that; that it was just one of like, seven or eight, human children’s books that were sitting in a box in the attic.”

  Davis had paused for a moment and I lifted my head to the door, waiting to hear the rest of it.

  “I’m pretty good at that one now, so she said I’d graduated to The Tawny Scrawny Lion which, honestly, has me worried about the state of the lion’s pride. The critter on the cover looks like he needs some meat.”

  I giggled aloud at Davis’s observation and then sucked the laughter back inside me. Guilt at feeling happy, for even a second, wringing me around the neck.

  “You know,” the werewolf spoke, his voice gentle, “it’s okay … to laugh, I mean. I spent years in that cell, thinking about …”

  His family, his pack, everything he’d lost.

  “Thinking about this one time my brothers and sisters chased down a brownie.”

  Not what I’d expected.

  “See,” he began his story, “this little brownie, he was a real devil of a critter. He used to sneak into the pack’s store of meat, stuff we let cure to make sure we’d have enough food to get us through if the weather turned bad and it was hard to hunt.

  “Well, this one day we set a trap for the brownie. We left out a huge side of venison to tempt him and we hid in the trees nearby. Sure enough, it was too much for him to ignore and he snuck up to it, looking around to make sure he was alone, not seeing us peeking at him.”

  What happened?

  “He tugged and tugged at the leg, but even though brownies are stronger than one would think given their tiny size, he couldn’t get it to budge. See … we’d filled the meat with lead. Then, when he’d tried to let go, he couldn’t because we’d used a little mischief magick and the brownie’s hands were stuck
to it.”

  I heard Davis chuckle as he was remembering the story. Another smile came across my lips as I pictured a group of little werewolves, hiding in the trees with their hands over their mouths to conceal their laughter.

  “Then what happened?” I asked quietly through my smile.

  Davis continued, making no comment about the fact that I’d spoke, “We jumped out of the bushes and grabbed him. We stripped off all his clothes and threw them into the trees. Brownies, they’re pretty scared of heights.

  “A few hours later, when we were all back with the family, here comes this tiny naked brownie, his hands over all his personal stuff, raving about pesky little pups. My father laughed so hard while my ma used her hands to try to cover the eyes and ears of the youngest of the kids. Dad made a pact with the brownie, and he never touched our stores again.”

  I laughed wholeheartedly, picturing a small leprechaun looking guy walking into a village, his butt bared for all to see and swearing at the top of his lungs. I could see the older woman I pictured as Davis’s mother clutching onto small children, struggling to shield them from the vision even as they fought against her for a peek.

  Davis spoke as our laughter calmed, “When I thought, down in that cell, that I couldn’t go on another day, that I wasn’t strong enough, I thought of that memory.”

  Slowly lifting my head and reaching down, I turned the knob and opened the door. Davis was sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the wall. He was clean shaven, the whiskers gone from his face and his hair had been recently cut. He was wearing, of all things, skinny jeans and a flannel shirt buttoned to the collar. He looked like a cross between Adam Lambert and Larry the Cable Guy, which on anyone else might have looked silly. On Davis, it looked perfect.

  “How did it help you?” I whispered.

  Davis stood up and faced me. I could see he was improving quickly; his face was rounder, and his muscles on his frame were filling out. I wondered what he’d look like on the next full moon.

  “It reminded me that we all have some good memories. And, Maggie, those are what we cling to when we’re locked in the dark. Those are what help us to stay strong.”

  Looking at the lycan standing in front of me, I thought I didn’t have many memories of Michel, I hadn’t known him long enough.

  But I was wrong. I had some. Of a ride on a motorcycle, of a close call with his lips, of a dance that had set my heart to race. Davis was right. I could let myself waste away on the what-could-have-beens, or I could start moving forward while cherishing what I’d had. I could let those memories be my strength when things were hard, my candle in the darkest nights.

  It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever was. My heart was still shattered in a million pieces, but with time, maybe I could glue a few important ones back in place.

  I hugged Davis tightly as my eyes blurred.

  “Thank you,” I whispered in his ear. His arms clenched around me, willing to stay like this as long I needed him to.

  “Thank you,” he whispered back when my grip loosened and I drew away. Squeezing his huge hands, I gave him a smile.

  “I’m starving,” I confessed, making the decision to remember Michel, and the fond memories of times we’d shared together. “Let’s get something to eat?”

  “Good idea,” the werewolf agreed, nodding. We turned, heading to the stairs, but Davis pulled me to a stop.

  “I thought I’d better tell you before we go down there,” he warned. “Autumn’s been cooking, and I don’t know why, but that witch really seems to have a thing for chocolate.”

  A laugh bellowed out of me, pain in my sides as Davis watched, confused. Taking him under his arm, I pulled him to continue our trek.

  “Davis, you have no idea …”

  Forty Four

  We sat together at the table for the first time since Michel had died. Liam was in his usual spot with a newspaper in his hands, and Seatha talked to anyone who’d listen about how she’d decided to get a tattoo of a lilac on her calf.

  Autumn sat close to Davis. She nodded her head at the fairy and went on eating her sandwich while stealing glances at the werewolf. He’d smile when she did, and when Seatha’s eyes would turn away, he’d make faces at her, opening and closing his mouth without saying a word.

  The conversations went on easily; strictly avoiding any mention of death, battles, or what lay ahead.

  Luc wasn’t here and I wondered how he was doing. I hadn’t seen him since leaving the throne room in Celine, but Davis had mentioned the vampire teasing him, so I knew he’d been at The Trust at some point. I hoped he’d found a little comfort.

  After lunch, I told the group I was going to take a walk outdoors to get some fresh air, having missed the sunshine for the last week and knowing soon enough the snow would take over and the weather would grow cold. Everyone stood abruptly, offering to go with me, except Liam. I shot him a look, wondering why he hadn’t.

  “I knew the rest of this motley group would offer,” he answered my unspoken question from behind his paper.

  “I’m fine,” I assured them. “I just want to sit in the sun for a little while.”

  They took their seats again slowly as I cared for my dirty dishes. Giving a wave and a brief smile to the table, I made my way through the dining room and out the front door.

  Kicking off my shoes and leaving them on the porch, I stepped on the grass. Walking around the house to the garden, I picked a green spot with no shade and sat. The warmth felt good as the afternoon sunshine caressed my skin. Closing my eyes, I leaned back on my elbows and tilted my face toward the light.

  Moments later, I heard the crunch of gravel underfoot. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I looked to see who was approaching and saw Luc walking toward my spot on the lawn.

  The sun brought out the blue tint of his highlights, making them shimmer like sapphires. He was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, dark aviator sunglasses covering his sensitive eyes from the daylight, and his leather jacket and combat boots rounding out the look. I noticed he had something tucked under his arm.

  A book.

  “Reading?” I teased him, smiling. “I never would have thought you capable.”

  The vampire smiled down at my jibe. “You should see me knit,” he deadpanned as he slid his sunglasses to the top of his head and sat beside me. I chuckled as he offered the book to me. “Liam asked me to give this to you.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled. I set the volume beside me in the grass and closed my eyes again, absorbing the warmth the sun was providing me.

  Although Luc had been smiling, I’d seen the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and realized that must be what I looked like, too.

  “Nah,” Luc spoke. “Your hair’s a mess, and you sort of reek, but no dark circles.”

  I reached out to smack his leg, knowing he’d listened in on my thoughts. My smile subsided as I stared at him, realizing how very alike the brothers looked. They had the same eyes and the same dark ebony hair tinted with cobalt.

  “Do you ever—” I was about to ask, but stopped myself. “Never mind, it’s crazy.”

  “Just ask,” Luc beckoned carefully, studying my expression.

  “Do you ever feel him? Like he’s around you?”

  Luc exhaled softly and peered off at the forest. He leaned his arm on his knee, the other palm rubbed a slow circle over his chest. “Every day,” he answered in a whisper.

  I turned my gaze to the ground. “I do, too,” I admitted, picking at the lawn.

  “Sometimes … when I pick up his guitar, I think I can still hear him strumming a melody,” he went on.

  “I keep waiting for him to show up and tell me it was all part of some plan to trick the revenants. That at any moment, he’ll ride up on his motorcycle and it’ll all have been some bad dream.” My chest felt heavy, and I tried my best to keep the tears back.

  Luc reached over and took my hand. He didn’t speak; he just held my hand and gave it a squeeze, letting
me know it was okay to cry.

  And I did.

  Luc maintained his gaze outward and his grasp of my hand, giving me time. There was a strange peacefulness I found sitting there in the sun with him. A safety in Luc that I could feel, letting me know I wasn’t the only person who’d lost Michel. I cried silently until my eyes couldn’t shed any more tears. Luc handed me a tissue and I blotted my face.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized while wiping my eyes.

  “For having emotions?” Luc scoffed with a snicker. “Yeah, you should really try to get rid of those. Angels know those are dangerous thing to have.”

  I playfully smacked his arm and looked at him sideways. I thought back to Michel telling me about Irabella and my heart was full of sorrow for Luc. First it’d been his mother, then the female he’d loved. Now his brother was gone as well.

  “Luc,” I searched for the right words to comfort him and found none. Finally, he turned and our eyes met.

  “It’s okay, Maggie. I’m tough. I’ve had centuries of practice at it,” he assured me with half a smile.

  The vampire stood and took a few steps away. He pretended to stretch, but I knew it was his way to shrug off his feelings. I’d seen that part of him and knew he hurt as much as I did. I stood up and walked up behind him.

  “Damn it!” he complained, suddenly aggravated.

  I was taken back. I didn’t want to force him to say anything, but I couldn’t bear to watch him suffering this alone.

  “Suffer?” Luc choked out. With all the emotions I’d had swirling, I’d forgotten he could hear my thoughts.

  “I’m sorry,” was all I could manage to mutter. Luc took a needless inhale.

  “You’re sorry?” he spoke in a whispered hush, finally turning to look at me. “No. I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m sorry I was a spoiled child and wasn’t there when my mother needed an ally. I’m sorry I couldn’t save Irabella from my father’s wrath. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my vow to keep you safe.”

  “Luc.” I moved closer to him, wanting to comfort him, to let him know these terrible things weren’t his fault.