Ashes (The Firebird Trilogy Book 1)

by Stephanie Harbon

  “I work late Fridays,” he frowned, pulling together his brown eyebrows. Every part of my dad was some unspecialised shade of brown, his hair, his skin, even his clothes; he looked nothing like me. I didn’t get my black eyes from him either: my mothers were gold, that inheritance was a mystery.

  “That’s okay.” I said quickly, “Katie’s already said I can stay around her house after. I know its short notice, but I’ve only just realised I’m not working. I thought I couldn’t go when he asked me before.”

  He looked at me suspiciously, “Isn’t it November the fifth tomorrow?” he questioned sceptically. When I nodded he shook his head instantly, his dark brown eyes flashing with anger, “No Ruby, you know how I feel about you going to bonfire events! They’re so dangerous, with all the fireworks…”

  “I’ll be completely fine,” I said stubbornly, then tried to smooth my irritated voice, “I’ll stay inside if I think things look dangerous.”

  “No,” he stated decidedly, picking up the TV remote and flicking through the channels; indicating that this subject was no longer up for discussion.

  I hadn’t finished yet though, “Why not? Give me one good reason. I’m nearly eighteen years old, I’m not a kid. I know not to play with fire.”

  “Oh do you?” demanded my dad, violently slamming the remote down onto the coffee table with a menacing glint in his eyes. “I don’t think you do.” Then he paused suddenly, “What’s that in your pocket?” he ordered.

  I looked down at myself, realising there was a lighter-shaped object in my pocket. I battered myself internally; why didn’t I hide it somewhere? I stammered under pressure, “It’s a-“

  “Show it to me, Ruby,” Dad interrupted, sitting up straighter with a deadly serious expression and holding out his hand, palm upwards, expectantly.

  There was no way of getting around it, I yanked the device out of my pocket and shakily handed it to him, explaining frantically, “It’s not mine. This boy gave it me. I swear I’ve never used it.”

  My dad’s tanned fingers curled around the object, his knuckles clenching white, he spoke with quiet infuriation “You’ve lit this, haven’t you?”

  I shook my head, “No, I swear-“

  “After everything I’ve told you!” his voice exploded into a thundering yell, “You know when we were in that car crash the flames nearly killed us all. You know how I feel about you messing about with fire.”

  “I haven’t even touched it, this boy-” I began.

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses!” he shouted.

  “But I-“

  “No, Ruby. You’re not going anywhere.” His voice was growing louder still, “I made a promise to your mother that I’d look after you and that’s what I’m going to do, God damn it! Why do you make it so difficult?”

  I stared at him for a long moment, sucking in a shocked breath, “You promised Mum?” I repeated, “You mean, you didn’t want to…” I trailed off, unable to finish that sentence.

  “If you go tomorrow Ruby, that’s it,” he said finally, “You’re on your own.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked shakily.

  He just looked at me, his eyes were like deep emotionless pits, “I can’t look after you anymore. It’s too hard to keep you from the inevitable.”

  “You never looked after me anyway.” I snapped.

  “Don’t speak to me like that. I’ve put this roof over your head!” He yelled right back, “Don’t be so ungrateful.”

  “I should be grateful?” I scoffed “For what? All you do is work, I see you for about an hour a week. You don’t know anything about me at all. The only time you take even a remote interest in me is when I tell you I want to leave!”

  “You’re right,” he said maliciously, “I don’t know you, and do you know what? I don’t think I want to. I’ve had enough of this.”

  “Had enough of what?” I questioned sharply, standing straighter and glaring at him with all the force built up from the years of neglect, “Not being a father? You’ve never been there!”

  “You are such a spoilt little brat,” he snapped incredulously, “All the money I’ve given you over the years… and you’re throwing it back in my face?”

  “It’s not money I want Dad.” I said curtly. “But you don’t get that, do you.”

  The look he gave me sent chills to my core. It was a look of deep hatred; a hatred that I’d never seen from him, or anyone, before. I always knew he didn’t love me, but I never thought he hated me. The realisation of that cut through me like a sharp knife stabbing through my heart.

  He walked out of the room then, slamming the door shut behind him and as I watched the door handle rattle from the impact, I gave up the long hard struggle to love the man who was supposed to be my father.

  For the first time in my entire life I slept through my alarm. When I eventually awoke from a deep dreamless sleep it was midday; I’d slept through the only two lessons I had on a Friday.

  I rubbed my pounding head, I felt slow and exhausted. Sweat soaked the sheets I was lying on and my body felt ridiculously feverish. I shakily tried to stand up and my head whirled. What was wrong with me? I’m never ill.

  I felt a little better after a shower; well, I felt cleaner at least. There was no point in me going to college and I felt rough and still upset from last night’s argument, so I decided I’d visit my favourite place in the world. It was the highest point within walking distance, the top of the waterfall that cascaded down a steep hillside to eventually formulate the river I walk Max by every day. The hike was long, made worse by the heat evaporating from my flesh and the ferocious aching of my back.

  Then I arrived at the top of the hill and I was free.

  The wind howled like a lonely wolf. It was freezing; sinking slowly into my pores. It felt nice in comparison to the blistering temperature of my forehead.

  I’d never been even remotely afraid of heights; which was perhaps for the best as I dangled my legs over the three hundred-foot drop. Beside me the river moved with a striking grace, gently running until it suddenly churned with fear as it contemplated its crashing fate below. It was a dangerous place to be, but not for one moment did I feel unsafe. For me this was home.

  My mother preferred being high up too. She used to bring me up here, especially if I was upset. It was here where she told some of her most gripping stories. She was always speaking of her imaginary adventures, her particular favourites being that of a burning city built from sparkling alabaster in the middle of a desert, or of the terrible monsters with horns like goats that lurked deep in the mountains.

  It seemed so long ago now; a different lifetime.

  It was while I was thinking this that I saw Max’s ears twitch. He sat up alertly, staring with almost a quizzical expression to the space behind me.

  “What is it boy?” I asked curiously, turning to see what he’d spotted.

  I’d expected to see a rabbit or something, but what I saw definitely wasn’t a cute furry animal. No, it was rather large, muscled and glistening with sweat as it ran, obliviously, across the plateau behind me.

  Kieran didn’t seem to realise I was there as he sprinted past where I was sitting, partly concealed behind a gigantic oak tree. He didn’t slow as he continued towards the ledge, where the earth was extremely precarious and the chances of slipping were too high for comfort. I stood up, wanting to warn him, but he skidded to an abrupt halt and before I said anything I froze in confusion.

  He stood there for a moment, as if deliberating, and then slowly he began to tug his shirt off. I watched in fascination as the bulging muscles of his shoulders strained as he lifted his arms. He dropped the shirt to his side and with his back still towards me he slowly began to peel off the bottom half of his clothes until he was standing there entirely naked.

  Blood gushed to my face, spreading across my cheeks like wildfire. I’d never seen a properly naked man, in real life anyway, and even though all I could see was the back half of him, I couldn’t
stop myself from staring. His body looked like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo and then touched up on Photoshop. And he had a really nice ass; just saying.

  He stood there for a moment, gazing distantly at the horizon, as if he were searching for a future made impossible by divine intervention. It was like he was wishing for something he could never have, or something he had previously let slip through his fingertips. He looked heartbreakingly and anciently sad, longing for something I couldn’t even imagine.

  Then he did something I didn’t predict. He turned slightly towards his left, barely twisting his long athletic body, and kicked his clothes off the edge of the cliff. Then he sprung forwards, diving headfirst over the edge.

  He disappeared from sight immediately; before my scream even had chance to unleash into the suddenly dark atmosphere. I leapt to my feet, hurtling over to where he jumped; Max dashing ahead of me, barking frantically.

  I couldn’t believe what I just witnessed. It was a vertical drop for at least three hundred feet, possibly even more, there was no way he’d survive such a fall. He must have known that.

  I came to a skidding stop as I looked over to where he’d jumped, astonishment breaking across my features. I saw no evidence of his fall but there were lots of bushes and brambles his body could’ve been concealed in. Panicking, I paced up and down trying to think it over and eventually got out my phone and dialled 999. I asked for mountain rescue and while I waited for them to arrive I crawled closer to the edge, trying desperately to see a body.

  Nothing was visible from this position. I wasn’t foolish enough to climb down and risk the same fate. My mind was a buzz of nonsensical thoughts. My lungs gasped frantically, I was hyperventilating. I had no idea what to do. I was experiencing shock for the first time.

  Someone had just committed suicide in front of my eyes.

  Chapter Three

  When the mountain rescue team arrived they raced about frantically; some asking me questions of what I’d seen, some judging how safe it would be to climb down the side of the hill, others racing back to their helicopter for more equipment. I soon became invisible as the bodies rushed about, until finally one of the mountain rescue team came up to me; shaking his helmeted head.

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t find a body, or any evidence of a fall.” He told me.

  I stared at him with wide eyes, “What?” I asked, absolutely dumbfounded, “But I swear I saw him jump off the cliff!”

  “We believe you miss,” he said with evident concern, “But as of now we still can’t see anything. We’ll keep looking though; do you know the person?”

  I hesitated, “Not really, I’ve met him before but very briefly. I work at the Black Swan in town, you see.”

  He nodded, “Well there’s no point in you staying here. We have all your details. We’ll let you know as soon as we find something.”

  I nodded distantly, trudging my way down the longer but less steep path to the bottom of the hill, wandering through the forest with Max until we reached my empty house. I sat around, unsure of what to do, flicking through the channels on the TV; my mind completely elsewhere.

  I must have fallen asleep for a while because I awoke to a loud persistent knocking on the front door. I’d been curled up on the sofa with my head buried in Max’s thick ginger fur and as I stood up I realised my backache had returned with a fierce vengeance. I stumbled exhaustedly over to the door, glancing at the clock on the wall along the way. I’d been asleep for five hours? How the heck had that happened, normally I’m a borderline insomniac. I shook my head, continuing to the door and yanking it open without thinking.

  There were three men standing there. One had a shaven head, tattoos covering his scarred arms, and the other two who flanked him were both dark-haired and thick-built. They wore torn jeans and dirty shirts and their eyes had noticeably dilated pupils. As I inspected their similarly pale, drawn features and the tiny red scars on the insides of their arms I became instantly suspicious that they were into something heavy.

  I wanted to slam the door shut and lock and barricade it, but the last thing I wanted to do was to irritate them. Hopefully I was overreacting. They were probably just normal guys selling something or another similar activity. I was probably being paranoid. So instead I straightened my aching back, attempting to look strong and fearless, and said, “Can I help you?”

  It was the guy in the centre who spoke first, in a low harsh voice, “Are you Ruby Swift? The girl who saw someone jump off a cliff earlier today?”

  I nodded uncertainly, intimidated.

  “We want to ask you some questions,” he said darkly.

  “Who are you?” I demanded with a brave intention that evaporated the moment I saw the flash of dangerous fury spread across his face.

  “I think you should answer my questions before you start asking your own,” he said with an acidic bite, purposefully opening up his jacket to display a nasty metal gun that gleamed like teeth in a murderer’s smile.

  I gulped; my mind buzzing with disturbed thoughts. My first impression was right, so now what? My heart raced rapidly. Three unpredictable men were standing on my doorstep threatening me with a gun, do I have options?

  “Don’t worry,” he added silkily. “If you answer our questions we won’t touch you.” I could hear Max barking, desperately trying to open the door which I’d stupidly shut behind me when I went to answer the door.

  Stay inside, I prayed to my most faithful companion, don’t open the door.

  The man was speaking again, “Describe what he looks like.”

  “He’s tall,” I began, panicked, trying to flick though my little memories of him, “very good looking with black hair, tanned skin and green eyes.”

  They looked from one to another, then the tattooed guy spoke again, “How did you meet him? Who was he with?”

  “Erm,” I struggled under pressure, “At the Black Swan, I’ve only seen him twice. He was with a few others.”

  The man stepped forwards, I stumbled backwards away from him but he followed me inside: bad idea. His eyes were like empty pits, fathomlessly deep and dark. Sweat matted the back of my hair, dripping down my spine. I was shivering with terror. Max was still barking; the door handle rattled as he attempted to knock it down with his giant paws. Should I run? What do I do?

  “What did they look like?” demanded one of the other men; his hair was inky black and greasy. When he waved his hands at me threateningly I saw that his nails were crusted with dirt, like little brown crescents.

  I looked around frantically, stuttering “I, err, don’t rememberI…”

  “You better start remembering,” the tattooed man pulled out his gun, delicately caressing its polished surface, like it was something greatly precious. It wasn’t, it was a malicious-looking thing. I cowered away from it.

  “There were two girls,” I racked my brain frantically for information, “Two boys, all in their late teens or early twenties. Dark skinned and dark haired.”

  “What do you know about them?”

  “Nothing, I don’t know anything, I swear!” I said as he lifted the gun towards me, “I only met Kieran twice. For about two minutes. I don’t know!”

  “What has he told you about him?”

  I shook my head, terrified. The two built guys were shuffling closer.

  “What has he told you about him?” the man yelled suddenly, pointing the gun towards my head. I stumbled back frantically, but the other two men grabbed me and hauled me against the wall. I screamed as my head collided with the concrete. I could feel warm blood streaming down my neck.

  As my head whirled, my stomach lurched nauseously. I could feel the cold weapon press against my temple. I could smell the cutting metallic scent of it.

  The man was whispering in my ear, but I couldn’t understand his words. He was muttering threats I couldn’t comprehend in my shock.

  Then he shouted, breaking through the protective shell of numbness surrounding me. “Can you hear me? Where do
es he live? You tell me or I’ll pull this trigger.” He grabbed a handful of my hair, wrapping the tangled curls around his dirty fingers and pulling hard.

  I tried to pry his hands away but I heard the soft dooming click as he loaded the gun and stopped struggling. I closed my eyes trying to think through my panic and assess the situation. But then I realised there was nothing I could do, I didn’t know the answer, I couldn’t move.

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly, my head still spinning. “That’s the truth.”

  “What did you see this morning?!” he screamed.

  “I saw him jump-” I began, but another man interrupted, his ugly snarling face so close to me I could smell the vile stench of his breath.

  “What else?” He demanded, “What happened exactly?”

  “I didn’t see!” I cried, “I just assumed he fell down the cliff.”

  “What about before he jumped what did he do?”

  Just then the door swung open, Max had managed to knock down the handle and push his weight forwards to open it; I’d seen him do it a hundred times before. I was horrified that he’d done it now. He charged closer, baring his sharp teeth as he growled and sprung at one of the men pinning me to the wall. My heart leapt, though in relief or terror I didn’t know, as Max sunk his teeth into the man’s leg. The man screamed in agony and Max held on.

  This distracted the other two just enough for me to duck down, my instincts taking control as I shoved my elbow into the tattooed man’s stomach with a surprising amount of force. He doubled over, dropping the gun to the floor, winded. Max then jumped at him, snarling and biting and sending him hurtling to the floor under his impressive weight. I kicked the gun out of the way just as the black-haired man dived for it, accidentally kicking him in the teeth in the process. An amazing fluke.

  Unfortunately I’d sent the gun skidding in the wrong direction. The third man reached down for it in a blindingly fast motion, sweeping it up and holding it in a way that made me think he wasn’t accustomed to handling it; his fingers looked as if they were attempting to contain a handful of rice.