Phoenix Academy: Forged (Phoenix Academy First Years Book 3)

by Lucy Auburn

  Except we don’t have old times.

  He abandoned me, and he hasn’t even bothered to explain why.

  Not that I should want to know; listening to his excuses, letting myself be tempted into believing him, is just letting poison into my veins. Nothing he touches ends up well. Three centuries is surely enough time to learn how not to be a murderer, and he hasn’t.

  “I think you should go.” I glance meaningfully towards the door to the street, heart racing, forcing myself not to double-check the places where we hid our supplies. “It’s getting late, and this place does close. I can finish the wine on my own.”

  Meyer looks up at me. I meet his gaze, putting every inch of iron in it that I possess, straightening my spine and making sure he knows I mean business. It’s time to put up a wall between us, one ten feet tall to separate him from me.

  And after that, an entire prison colony. Hell, if I could, I would ship him to the moon. Maybe Jeff Bezos has plans to build something up there I can dump Meyer inside forever and ever.

  “Okay.” Even if he can’t read my moon-related prison fantasies, Meyer seems to finally realize that I’m not interested in sticking around to hear his next thousand excuses or motivations for fucking me over. “I’ll leave. Just remember, I’ll be around if you need anything. Or I should say, when you need my help, because you’re going to.”

  “No thanks.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Now that I’ve got my demon quartet back I’ll be good—you know, because they were mine from the start and you lied about them. So thanks again for that.”

  “It was necessary.” He doesn’t even sound apologetic. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

  If the wine bottle weren’t full of delicious red blend that I plan on getting drunk on later, I would pick it up and break it over his head. Maybe push the shards into the back of his neck a little. Y’know, he’ll understand when he’s older, since he’s been using dark magic to keep his body about two-and-a-half centuries younger than he's supposed to be.

  I bite my tongue so hard it’s a shock I don’t taste blood. “Sure, I’ll understand when I’m older. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Time to go, old man.”

  His mouth quirks up. “Is that what you’re calling me? It’s a cute nickname for your dad.”

  “Bastard.” My hands curl up into fists. “Murderer. Psycho. Those are my names for you. Whatever genetic material you donated, I don’t give a fuck. It doesn’t matter. What matters is what I’ve made of myself since you left.”

  “Oh.” He deflates, and I know I hurt him; for a moment I revel in it, hoping it’s just the start of his pain. “Well. I guess this will take time.”

  “Bite me, motherfucker.”

  Meyer heads towards the exit, apparently giving up on the whole being-a-dad thing. Nineteen years too late if you ask me. I follow him towards the door, fingers itching to get things started, eyes on his feet. I pay close attention to the pace of his footsteps, how far apart each step brings him.

  I can feel the bartender glance up at us, then force her eyes back down towards the bar. She grabs a rag and sweeps her arm out to clean the counter, moving towards the end of the bar, away from the front door.

  Soon Meyer’s steps have led him to the third booth from the door.

  It’s now or never.

  Reaching in to find my powers waiting for me, I let them surge to the surface of my skin. I can feel how much easier they come to me now that the bond with the demons has been restored; no wonder it was a struggle to get my phoenix fire started after they were taken from me.

  The familiar black-and-orange fire twirls around my fingertips, ready to start trouble at any moment. Swinging my left arm out towards the booth beside me, I snap my fingers and watch as a tiny flame jumps from my hand to land on the pleather cushion.

  A little fire starts, small and contained, perfectly placed.

  Meyer takes another step forward.

  And the bombs go off.

  Chapter 12

  The noise is deafening. A wall of heat rolls towards us from the left, throwing me to the ground, my ears ringing, hip smarting against the tile floor. Moments later there’s another boom as the second set of explosives go off, cleverly rigged by Mateo’s hand, this time to blow the door off the hinges and bring the front awning of the cafe down right in front of Meyer’s feet.

  He may act the fool, but when it comes to blowing shit up Mateo is a true genius. Like the Da Vinci of things that go boom in the night.

  The second blast blows Meyer off his feet and sends several wine bottles tumbling off the shelves behind the bar. One of them hits the counter, rolls off, and flies right towards my head.

  That’s the last thing I see before I’m down on the ground, head pounding, ears ringing. There’s broken glass all around me and blood running down the side of my face. I wince as I reach up to press my hand to the top of my head.

  I’ve got to get Meyer before he runs. Vision blurry, I force my eyes open, searching for him. He’s on the ground in his black trench coat, struggling to his feet.

  I can’t let him get away. Legs weak, I push up to my feet and take a few steps towards him, forcing my body past the pain, blood dripping down into my eyes.

  I might’ve let Mateo put down a few too many bombs. Or set them off too late. But I can’t let him get away.

  “Dani.” He stumbles towards me, hands on my shoulders. I stare up into his face, confused; he should be running, leaving me behind. “There was some kind of attack. We’ve got to get out of here. It could be her. C’mon.” Meyer pulls my arm up around his shoulders, leaning my weight against his side. “There’s an emergency exit out back. The waitress just went that way.”

  I force myself not to let my triumph show on my face. It couldn’t have gone better if I planned it. Well, I planned it—I just thought he’d be the injured one I would drag through the “emergency exit” towards safety.

  This way works just as well. Except for the part where my left arm is numb, and I think I lost some hair when that bottle broke against my scalp.

  As we get closer to the back door, I reach out to our table and swipe the red wine bottle. If Meyer gives me a judgmental look, I can’t see it through my blurry vision and the blood in my eyes. Or I see it and just don’t give a fuck.

  “Okay.” He pushes open the door. “Just a few more steps. It’s a tight doorway—you go first. It’s so dark out there... I can’t see anything. Even if the lights aren’t on my eyes should be able to...”

  He’s thinking too hard. “Must be a new moon night.”

  I hear something move behind the storage room door. A shadow stretches against the floor. Mere seconds later, as Meyer hesitates and stares into the “alleyway” behind the cafe, the door flies open.

  A giant wolf rushes out, teeth bared. Petra leaps onto Meyer’s back and pushes him that one last step out the door and into the darkness beyond before he can do anything to fight her off. I swiftly follow, swiping blood out of my eyes and blinking my vision clear as my phoenix healing skills kick in.

  On the other side of the door is the hallway leading into Darkness Island’s last empty row of cells. Meyer stands a few feet beyond the door, hands loose at his sides, in his power stance.

  In front of him are the four demons, weapons at the ready, eyes hard, prepared to take him down if the power dampeners don’t work or he has any tricks up his sleeve. I feel a surge of pride as I meet Ezra’s eyes and he dips his head to me, letting me know that he’s ready, that he and the others have got this.

  “So, Dani,” Meyer addresses me without turning around to look in my direction, “I guess it wasn’t answers you wanted.”

  At my side, Petra peels her lips back from her mouth to reveal a full set of teeth and advances on him, her low snarl a sound so menacing it sends goosebumps crawling up my arms. I don’t respond to Meyer; I don’t need to or want to. What I want is to see what his next move will be now that we have him cornered and outnumbered six to
one.

  He should be powerless.

  He should be defenseless.

  But somehow I doubt he got to the age of three-hundred-and-what-the-fuck without being a little wily and clever.

  His hand twitches towards the right side of his trench coat. The air seems to still. I feel the tension ratchet up as the demons prepare for a fight. We agreed they wouldn’t make the first move; it’s important to know what he’s got up his sleeve. Going in half-cocked might mean he escapes, or worse, more people die.

  I wait for him to pull out a weapon or start chanting some kind of terrible spell that he’ll figure out how to use despite the power dampeners.

  Instead he brings his hands up behind his head, bends his knees, and kneels on the ground.

  Lynx starts to move towards him, rope at the ready, but I hold up a hand. “Wait. It might be another trick. I’ll take care of it.” Crossing in front of Meyer, I reach out and take Lynx’s length of rope, then stare down at the man himself. “Try anything and I swear I’ll have them gut you.”

  “You could do it yourself. Give me that much at least.”

  “Shut up and hold out your hands.”

  He puts his wrists together and docilely lets me wrap the rope around them. I tie it in one of the knots Lynx taught me, trying not to look in his eyes. Once the rope is tight I lead him towards the open cell we have waiting for him, one with a spartan bed, no extra amenities, and empty cells all around it—he won’t be planning anything with the other captured Grims, that much I’m sure of.

  As I pat him down and check all his trench coat pockets, throwing away all his things, he keeps talking. So much so that the desire to slash his mouth off his face grows with every second.

  “Doing this won’t stop what’s coming.” He watches me throw his death energy powder out into the hallway, take his knives and hand them over to Sebastian. “It’s inevitable. There was always going to be another war. The power of phoenix can’t be hoarded without consequences.”

  I ignore him in favor of searching his back pockets, even though I despise standing so close to him. But apparently he’s not looking for a response, because he keeps going. “She’s coming for you. All of you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “The star charts have predicted it,” he says, sounding like a raving lunatic. I guess three centuries will do that to you. “More will be born. Every species, every type. She’ll get her claws into this place and she’ll never let go. The only one who knows Vera, who can fight Vera—”

  “Is you?” I raise my eyebrows at him as I push him down onto his regulation bed, then kneel down to tie his ankles to the bed post. “I’m sure it never occurred to you, but Headmaster Towers is more than strong enough to fight one Grim. There are dozens of prisoners here who can attest to that.”

  From behind me, Mateo calls out, “Just ignore him. He doesn’t have anything useful to say.”

  “I never liked that one,” Meyer mutters. In a low voice, for my ears alone, he says, “Towers isn’t the one who will lead your side in the coming battle. If it can’t be me, it will be you.”

  “Whatever.” Slashing the ropes around his wrist, I yank off his trench coat and throw it out into the hallway too. Petra jumps on it and smears her dirty paws all over its black wool, making Meyer flinch. “I don’t give a fuck about your weird threats or your star charts or any of your excuses. You manipulated, you lied, you bespelled the whole campus, and you killed someone.”

  “That was your little sword-wielding friend, technically. And I didn’t kill Towers,” he points out, “if she’s still alive as you say, then you need to find a way to harness the power of her heart.”

  I scowl at him. “I’m not going to finish what you started.”

  “No, Dani. What you need to do is—”

  A hand on my upper arm pulls me out of the cell and kicks the door shut before Meyer can finish his words. Looking up into Sebastian’s ice blue eyes, I ask, “Why did you do that?”

  “Someone had to.” He sheathes his poison knives, pulls me out into the hallway, and shuts the bars in front of the door too. “The more he speaks, the worse things get. We’re better off walking away now. Especially you.”

  I know he’s right. The curiosity I feel, the yearning to know more about him—even if it’s bullshit and lies—is all-consuming. Which means it’s dangerous.

  I’d be better off ignoring everything he’s said tonight and walking away from him completely.

  Which is exactly what I do, scooping his trench coat off the ground and reaching inside for my phoenix fire flames. They come to me within a second, my powers pulling on my connection to the beyond.

  This time, instead of black and orange, they’re pure black. They wick over the trench coat and catch it on fire in a strange, dark way, no light coming from the flames as they course across the damp wool. Petra takes a step back, whining and licking her lips at the sight, stuck in her wolf form until we get off the island. But to me there’s something oddly comforting about the black flames.

  Lynx frowns. “That’s weird.”

  “What?”

  “You shouldn’t be able to use your magic.” He stares at the fire as it turns the trench coat into a growing pile of ashes at my feet. “Only demonic power works in here. Not magic.”

  I go cold at his words, the black fire suddenly something terrible and arcane instead of comforting. “That’s... strange then.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Ezra scoops Meyer’s knives up off the ground and shoves them into his belt. “If it’s really true that your power as a Black Phoenix means you can draw on energy from us, then you were just using that connection to create black fire. It’s nothing unexpected if you remember that you’re not just one type of supernatural. You’re two.”

  “Oh.” I feel relieved, but I let the black fire go anyway, disturbed to think of the fact that I’m using demonic energy. It’s one thing to be bonded to and sleep with four demons, but another thing to draw on the same power as them. “Still weird, though. Black fire without a light.”

  Mateo grins. “It’s cool as shit. Do it again.”

  “We’ve got to go get the headmaster and tell her we got Meyer.” I glance back at Petra’s wolf form. “Mind standing guard in front of his cell?”

  In response she paces in front of the bars and lays down, eyes watchful, like a guard dog except twice as big and incredibly terrifying.

  And to think, she was the shortest of the shifters I met that first night, so I thought she’d be the least intimidating.

  Nothing could be further from the truth.

  Chapter 13

  Knowing that Meyer is safely locked away and won’t be hurting anyone ever again, I sleep peacefully in my bed. The fact that he's not a threat anymore sends me straight to dreaming.

  Or maybe it’s the wine that does it.

  Or having my boys back.

  Sebastian sleeps curled on the bed with me, chest to my back, refusing to leave. “You should sleep well tonight,” he murmured against my ear when I tried to tell him goodbye. “We all should.”

  I kissed him, wanting more but afraid of it suddenly after so long away. They understood. Grabbing extra sheet sets, pillows, and comforters from the dorm laundry room down the hall, they curled up like puppies on the ground, their weapons leaning against the wall. I told Mateo he had to put his bombs in the top shelf of the wardrobe so no one could set them off accidentally in the middle of the night.

  Now I sleep, a demon’s touch against my back increasing the peace and pleasure that I feel. I dream of soft clouds, warm embraces, peaceful summer skies, and the easy laughter of friends.

  It’s hard to leave the dream behind.

  But my alarm is calling to me, singing its annoying little song. I grumble and turn over, opening my eyes and meeting Sebastian’s annoyed, wide-awake gaze.

  “Is that the chicken dance song?” He scowls in the general direction of my alarm. “Did you seriously program that thing to play that
song on purpose?”

  “I like it.” The scowl on his face deepens. In the background, the song grows louder. Ba-duh dada duh-duh-duh, ba-duh dada duh-duh-duh, da da duh-duh! There’s rhythmic clapping and everything. “It has a nice beat.”

  Sebastian draws me close, reaches over me, and slaps the alarm clock’s button until the accordion music and clapping stops. “I swear you’ve gotten weirder since we’ve been gone.”

  “We weren’t gone,” Lynx points out from the ground, legs tangled in a Phoenix Academy branded sheet. “We were here. Just... not bonded to her. Or allowed to see or speak to her.”

  Mateo snorts. “Same thing, nerd.”

  “Oh shut up.”

  I stretch on the bed, pressing my body up against Sebastian’s and enjoying the way his eyes flutter closed. “I like it better now that you’re here here. In the ways that count.” I let my fingers brush his abdomen, moving south bit by bit, just the barest hint of a touch. Based on what I feel pressed against my thigh he’s enjoying it. “I was thinking that we have time, what with half my finals being canceled, to reunite fully.”

  A wicked smirk lights up his mouth, making him look more like Sebastian I know, less bitter and used up. “I’ll make time.”

  His hands splay against my back, and suddenly I find that there’s pleasure and heat inside me, ready and wanting. As Sebastian’s mouth meets mine, the other guys rouse from half-sleep and toss off their blankets and sheets, running hands through their mussed hair, dark eyes fixed on our spot on the bed.

  My stomach makes a grumbling noise, but I ignore it. Breakfast can wait.

  I have other hungers to sate.

  As pleasure builds inside me and Sebastian’s skilled hands push up the back of my pajama top, skimming across my bare skin, I let myself sink into the taste of his mouth on mine, the feeling of him being back here with me.

  But then an image flashes in my mind, harsh and jarring, of him on his knees. Obeying Meyer’s words. Turning against me. Flinching, I pull back, heart racing, body suddenly cold. I lick my lips as he sits up and looks over at me, clearly confused.