Stealing Phoenix

by Joss Stirling

  She looked at me through her eyelashes as she bent over to lace her trainers. ‘You don’t know then?’

  ‘Obviously not.’ I ran my hands through my hair, trying to get it to look halfway decent.

  ‘Yves is obscenely rich.’

  ‘You mean the Benedicts are?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, just Yves.’

  ‘How come?’

  Sky re-hung the blouse. ‘You’ve twigged that he’s clever?’

  ‘Yeah. Hard to miss.’

  ‘He invented this security app for the iPhone—came out of the work he was doing for the Net. The Apple people bought it—it’s quirky and makes protecting information fun—so now he’s got a big nest egg for college and he’s become this kind of informal consultant for them. He wanted to share the money with the rest of the family, but they all told him to get lost. So it’s his. He hates it. I tease him that he spends money like a dog shaking off water after a dip in a pond.’ She mimed a shudder. ‘Brr, there goes another hundred bucks!’

  ‘Nice problem to have.’

  She smiled. ‘I know. I expect he’s relieved to have someone to share it with. Prepare to be showered in dollars. Hope it makes you feel less guilty about buying a pair of jeans on his tab.’

  I clipped the trousers back on to the hanger. ‘I’m going to pay him back. I’m not a … you know … gold digger or whatever the term is.’

  ‘We never thought you were.’

  At that point, Karla burst into the changing room with a heap of clothes folded over her arm.

  ‘Darlings, I have something for you. I couldn’t resist!’

  To my surprise, Sky paled. ‘Oh no,’ she mouthed at me.

  ‘My Yves will buy you the jeans, but I will treat you each to a pretty dress.’ She clasped her hands to her chest. ‘I have never had daughters—you are my girls.’

  ‘Um … thanks,’ I muttered, feeling embarrassed at her enthusiasm to sweep us to her maternal bosom.

  She patted my cheek. ‘After seven boys, you are doing me the favour. Put them on—put them on!’

  I now focused on the clothes she had hauled in with her. Ah.

  Sky smiled sweetly at Karla. ‘Why don’t you wait outside while we change so we can surprise you with the full effect?’

  Karla looked doubtful.

  ‘And perhaps you could find something for yourself?’ Sky continued.

  Karla’s face brightened. ‘You’re right! I shall see if they have one in green.’ She whirled out with a whisk of curtain, taking her dauntless energy back to the shop floor.

  ‘Oh my word,’ groaned Sky, ‘what’s she chosen this time?’ She fell on the clothing and held up a pink ruffled dress. ‘Yours or mine, do you think?’ She gave a hysterical gulp of laughter.

  ‘Who … what?’ I scratched my head, wondering how Karla had managed to find something quite so ghastly. It looked like the cross between a bridesmaid’s outfit and the kind of thing you would wear for a party. When you were five. ‘Do you think it’s meant to be ironic?’

  Sky frowned. ‘In this boutique? Yeah. Accessorized with Uggs it might work. But not on me. Kate Moss might get away with it but I’d look just sweet and about eight. Let me tell you, though, as far as Karla is concerned, there’s nothing ironic about this. She wants every girl to dress like a Disney princess. I only usually go shopping with her when I have my mum along for protection. She’s good at heading Karla off from her worst picks.’

  I gingerly shook out the powder blue version of the same dress. ‘So what do we do?’

  Sky stepped back behind the curtain and began to change into the pink, knowing from my expression that I wouldn’t even consider that shade. ‘Well, we can either offend someone who only wants to please us, or we can suck it up and suffer.’

  Resigned, I stripped off my top. ‘I’m good at that.’

  Lost in the skirt, Sky began to giggle. ‘Actually, Phee, I’ve just had a fabulous idea. Let’s keep these on and try them out on our boys—see how they react. It’ll put them in a really tight spot—us in clothes selected by their mother. They are just gonna die trying not to offend anyone.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure.’

  We had just done up each other’s backs when Karla returned, her arms empty this time. She clapped her hands to her mouth.

  ‘Oh my gosh, don’t you both look pretty!’

  We looked like rejects from the auditions for The Sound of Music.

  ‘I will have to buy them—they are meant to be yours!’ Karla waved her credit card around like a wand. ‘What a shame they didn’t have one in green for me. But then, it is a young girl’s style. I would’ve looked foolish.’

  And we didn’t?

  ‘Karla, Phee was just asking if we could keep them on, seeing how my trackies don’t fit her anyway.’ Sky elbowed me as I opened my mouth to protest.

  ‘Of course! Just give me the tabs and the new pants and I will pay for everything. We’ll have to get you shoes to match the dresses before we go home.’

  She was gone before I could pass over the money Yves had given me.

  Sky began folding up her old clothes. ‘Thank goodness all my old friends live over in west London.’

  ‘Isn’t this a bit of an expensive joke?’ I tugged the sweetheart neckline straight.

  Sky smiled. ‘No. We were not going to get out of here without some questionable dress or other; this way we can have fun with it. Besides,’ she squinted at me, ‘the Disney princess look really suits you.’

  I threw the trackies at her head.

  As we approached the flat, Sky held me back and closed her eyes. ‘Just preparing the way,’ she explained. ‘I want to get Zed and Yves on their own.’

  Karla sailed into the kitchen, bestowing kisses on the older Benedicts gathered there, regaling them with tales of our shopping adventures. Sky’s telepathic message had sent Zed and Yves into the living room. I could see them in the reflection from the window opposite the door, both standing by the sofa wondering what we wanted.

  Sky grinned at me and grabbed my wrist. ‘Play it serious. That makes it harder for them,’ she whispered.

  Then we were in the room.

  ‘Hi, darling. We’ve had such an awesome time shopping with your mother.’ Sky dropped my hand and brushed a kiss on Zed’s jaw. She held out her arms and spun. ‘What do you think?’

  I smiled shyly at Yves. ‘Your mum insisted she bought them for us. It’s my first dress.’

  Good one. Sky’s voice dipped lightly into my head—not an invasion but a welcome visitor. Rub it in.

  I frowned and looked down at the shiny material. ‘I wasn’t sure, but I thought it kind of suited me. With the right shoes and everything.’ I displayed the new blue pumps. ‘I wanted to look, you know, pretty.’

  Yves gaped. I felt a little bit sorry for him. ‘Um … Phee, I don’t know what to say.’

  I let my bright expression dim. ‘You … you think I look horrible in it?’ My voice rose in a convincing squeak of distress.

  He put his hands on my shoulders. ‘No, you look great. You always look great, no matter what you’re wearing.’

  Zed laughed. ‘Ouch. Wrong thing to say.’

  ‘You mean that I don’t look any different to normal in this?’ I asked with a puzzled frown.

  ‘Yes, I mean, no, this is lovely on you. Of course it is.’ Yves glared at his brother who was cracking up at his attempts to be polite. I quickly scanned Yves’s mental pattern seeing a frantic whirl of thoughts as he struggled to find the right thing to say. He thought the dress perfectly ugly.

  Sky turned the attention back to her. ‘So, Zed, isn’t this a killer outfit?’

  ‘Certainly a killer, baby,’ he replied with mock seriousness.

  ‘Good, because I’ve bought another five just like it.’

  He picked her up and spun her round. ‘You horrible, teasing fairy. If you really have more of those fashion disasters in your bags, I’m gonna hang y
ou on top of the family Christmas tree in December.’

  She wrinkled her nose, feet still suspended from the floor. ‘You weren’t fooled?’

  He kissed her frown. ‘Not for a second. I know my mother. I know you. Phee, I will give the benefit of the doubt.’

  Yves looked flummoxed. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘The girls are pulling your leg, bro. Get used to it.’

  ‘You mean, this is a joke?’ He sighed with relief. ‘Thank goodness for that.’ He bent his head close to mine. ‘You look like you should be on a biscuit tin with a parasol.’

  I curtsied. ‘Thank you, kind sir.’

  Xav chose that moment to wander into the room. Seeing Sky and me in his brothers’ arms, his face was stricken for a second, then he smiled, recovering his usual good humour.

  ‘You both look butt-ugly,’ he said lightly, backing out. ‘Sorry for interrupting.’

  Sky pushed away from Zed. ‘Xav, don’t go because of us. We were just fooling around.’

  ‘That’s fine. Carry on fooling.’ He went back into the kitchen and shut the door.

  ‘Damn,’ she muttered.

  Zed stroked her arm. ‘He’ll be fine. Yves, how’s the Savant locator coming along? We’ve five brothers still to pair up.’

  ‘Working on it.’ Yves released me. ‘Almost got the programme written. Tell me you’ve got something else to wear?’

  I nodded. ‘Yeah. Be right back.’

  ‘Narrow escape, brother mine, narrow escape,’ I heard Zed mutter to Yves as I left.

  With a discreet knock on the door an hour later, Mr Benedict appeared at the threshold of my borrowed bedroom. After a decadent long, hot shower, I was busy painting my toenails with Sky’s help. She insisted we did each one a different colour, just for the fun of it. We were surrounded by our purchases, which spilled haphazardly from the bags like presents at a toddler’s party.

  ‘Am I interrupting?’ he asked politely. I sensed that this kind of behaviour was not really his department, having raised boys.

  ‘Not at all. Almost dry.’ I felt a little weird being caught with my rainbow toes elevated and he clearly felt uncomfortable interrupting girl-time.

  He backed away. ‘Come into the kitchen when you’re ready.’

  ‘Sounds serious.’ Sky slotted the varnish bottles back in her make-up bag. ‘I’d better come with you for moral support.’

  Feeling comforted to have her at my side, I went into the kitchen. Yves, Mr Benedict, and Victor were gathered around a laptop.

  ‘Hey, Phee, OK?’ Yves asked. He’d had a shower too from the look of his wet, spiky hair.

  ‘Hmm,’ I replied, not committing myself to an answer until I found out what this was all about.

  Victor looked up, took in the multicoloured nails, and cracked a smile. ‘See Sky’s influencing you already, huh?’

  I wriggled my toes. ‘Um … yes.’

  ‘Don’t look so scared, sweetheart.’ With a warm smile, Mr Benedict beckoned me to come closer. His casual use of the endearment made me feel strangely emotional. He knew I’d made his son into a risk factor to the family happiness, yet still he welcomed me.

  ‘Well, you all sound so serious, what do you expect her to think?’ Sky slid round me to take a glance at the computer screen. ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘What’s up?’ I tried to strike a careless pose leaning on the counter but I was anticipating being chucked out at any moment. Had they discovered who my father was? Maybe that was why they were acting so distant? Yves hadn’t even looked at me properly.

  ‘I think we’ve found you in the national records,’ Victor explained. ‘See for yourself.’

  Oh God, I was right. I forced myself to cross the distance to the screen where Victor had the information displayed, a copy of a full birth certificate. My mother’s name was clearly listed and the date and place of my birth—2 July in a hospital in Newcastle. In the father’s slot, the registrar had written ‘not known’.

  Yves put his arm around me. ‘I’m sorry. I wish we’d been able to find out more for you.’

  Relief swept through me like a gale in an autumn wood, fears flying before the wind. I had a reprieve. They were worried I would be upset not to have a father when the opposite was true. My secret was still safe. ‘Not important. It’s OK.’

  Victor gave me a penetrating look; I think he knew I was hiding something. ‘I wouldn’t say it’s unimportant. You should be able to trace your mother’s family from this. We have her date of birth now. You might have grandparents, aunts and uncles—you never know.’ He clicked print.

  ‘Yes, true.’ Not that I felt like following that up just at the moment. I was indulging in a private celebration that I was officially fatherless.

  ‘On the positive side, it makes it easier to get you out of the country as there’s no known family to interfere. I’ll talk with my contacts in the Home Office, call in some favours, and see if we can get you a passport on the strength of this. You are almost of age so they shouldn’t be too worried. I’ll need a photograph.’

  ‘Sure. I think there’s a place in Liverpool Street where you can get those done.’ I tried to strike a businesslike tone, pushing the messy kinship stuff behind me.

  ‘Best take her now,’ Victor told Yves, filing the copy in his computer case. ‘When things get sorted out here, we’ll not want to hang around in London for long.’

  It would be nice to be asked if I was intending to go with them. Still, that reminded me. I paused in the door. ‘By the way, the bad guys have Yves’s passport details—I saw a copy of the page with the photo—that’s how I was able to identify him the first day. I don’t know how they got hold of it. No one said.’

  ‘Really?’ That caught Victor’s interest. ‘There must be one of theirs working in the system. I wonder if that means they know how many of us are here now? We were hoping they had not realized we’d sent for reinforcements.’

  ‘It could’ve come from the States—the copy of the passport, I mean.’ I pressed my fingers to my forehead, pain starting behind my left eye. ‘I saw someone from New York who knew about you.’ I tried to fool my brain that I wasn’t breaking any rules, only reporting what I’d seen, not what I’d heard. ‘There were others—Moscow, Beijing, Sydney.’ The Seer’s retaliation made my head hurt but I had to tell the Benedicts as much as I could. I couldn’t bear for them to be unprepared. It wasn’t just the Seer they had to worry about. ‘They were together for a kind of summit meeting I think.’

  ‘Phee, shut up.’ Yves took a tissue and wiped my face. ‘You’re getting a nosebleed.’

  Victor shot me a concerned look. ‘I appreciate what you’re telling us, Phee, but we already know there’s a group of rogue Savants in London at the moment. That’s why we are here.’

  ‘I see.’ That changed things. I had the sudden image of myself falling between a water taxi and the Thames wall, caught in the surge between two implacable forces. The Savants were well aware of the existence of the other group; I was the only one stupid enough not to realize that and was getting squeezed in the middle.

  Yves steered me to a chair so I could put my head down. ‘Don’t tell her anything else, Vick. It’s not doing either of us a favour.’

  I wasn’t so sure about that. Being in the dark would lead to me making mistakes, like putting myself through a migraine and nosebleed to tell them something they already knew.

  Vick squeezed my shoulder as he passed. ‘I think we can give the photos a miss for today. You should rest.’

  The bleed had stopped as soon as I’d given up spilling the Seer’s secrets. ‘It’s OK. I’ll be fine in a moment.’

  ‘I agree with Victor.’ Mr Benedict spoke as if laying down the law, a kindly magistrate presiding over the family. ‘We have only just found you, Phoenix, and, from what I understand from Xav, we need to look after you. The rest of the day on the sofa watching DVDs is what I recommend. I’m sure Yves will happily wait on you hand and foot.’ From his words, I suspected t
hey wanted me kept well out of harm’s way. It can’t have escaped their notice that every time I left I tried to make a run for it.

  I sat up, head spinning, but decided to play along. ‘Sounds fabulous. I don’t think I’ve ever had a day off.’

  ‘Then take it easy. I’ll see you both later.’ Mr Benedict paused to kiss Sky goodbye, a casual fatherly gesture. He hesitated then did the same for me. ‘I’ll send Zed back when Xav takes over from him.’

  I leant against Yves. ‘Where is everyone going?’

  He shrugged. ‘I think we’d best not ask.’

  He was right. The Benedicts had split into teams, each dealing with the different jobs to be done, one of which was making me ‘official’. I didn’t want to guess what the others were doing. ‘So, what shall we watch?’

  Yves picked me up, ignoring my squeals and Sky’s laughter, and deposited me on the settee in the living room. ‘Not The Wizard of Oz, please. I can’t revisit the trauma of arguing about the rights of green-skinned witches.’

  I almost smiled, but I still felt too tender about last night to have the necessary distance to find my behaviour funny. I had been so emotionally overwrought I was embarrassed to remember.

  Sky came in and dropped a DVD into my lap. ‘There you go. Ten Things I Hate About You, a classic—and Yves?’

  He retrieved the case, then crouched by the machine to put the disk in the slot. ‘Yep?’

  ‘You will not spoil our enjoyment by deconstructing this film with your clever comments on the history of cinematography …’

  ‘Aw, Sky, would I?’

  ‘Yes, you would. Neither will you tell us how the plot resembles Taming of the Shrew in every aspect, script, characterization etc., etc., capping it all with a review of all other films based on Shakespeare plays.’

  ‘So you don’t want to hear my analysis of Hamlet and The Lion King?’

  Sky folded her arms. ‘Nope.’

  Yves gave a put-upon sigh. ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘You will, however, make us microwave popcorn.’

  Yves stood up and saluted. He then leaned over me to whisper: ‘She’s small but dangerous—just thought you should know if you’re going to be friends.’