For three hundred years, Arabella’s life has been one meaningless death after another. In a cruel twist of fate, Osiris–god of the Underworld–gifts the phoenix her mortality and returns her voodoo magic. If she fails to harness her wayward magic and save a man worthy of a second chance, she’ll forfeit her power and her soul–forever.

Ex-soldier Greyson Meadows desperately wants to be freed from the nightmares and guilt that haunt him after the tragedy that brought him and Ari together. Confronted by the waif of a woman who forces him to face his worst fears, he resists, fighting the need to keep his personal demons hidden instead of setting them free.

When Ari becomes the target of her own magical blunder, it’s not just her life in danger, but now the one of the man she loves.

 

Information:

Title: The Last Awakening (Curse of the Phoenix, #2)
Author: Rachel Firasek
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Length: Novella
Launch Date: December 2011
ISBN: 978-1-937044-40-4
 

 
 
 
 

Excerpt:

© 2011 Rachel Firasek

Chapter One

 

A snow-sleet mix pelted the flapping windshield wipers and doused the inside of the cab with a bone-freezing chill. The driver ignored any discomfort and even cracked his window to belch through the seam, then took a drag off his cigarette.

Mon Dieu, she had to pick this taxi. Arabella Durand shifted away from the smoke that mixed with the irritating atmosphere. A more perfect mood couldn’t have been staged for her pending death.

The driver belched again, filling the car with his noxious stench. Much more of him and she’d find a way to hang herself now and hope her next soul found his or her own way to survive—to hell with Osiris and his orders. But she couldn’t. She was only allowed to die for him, the Egyptian god of the Underworld, and who knew what he would test her with if she failed? Probably another three hundred years of purgatory.

She had only one option: find her mark and die. It was a cruel trick of nature, and in all the years she’d been at it, she’d never understood. No one had been there to save her people—from her. No. The god obviously hadn’t thought them worthy of a second chance. And he sure as hell didn’t think she’d learned enough to find peace in death.

The cab rolled to a stop in front of the flickering Country Store sign that highlighted the cabbie twisting in the seat. Thank the Loa for answering her prayers to end the torturous ride. Long strands of hair fell against his face as he draped a beefy arm over the back of the passenger-seat headrest. He resembled Popeye with his bulging muscles and too-tight shirt—but instead of a pretty sailor tattoo, he had a dagger piercing a skull surrounded by snakes inked into his arm. The warning didn’t go unnoticed. Ari believed in the signs the deities chose to bless on her.

The driver grunted. “Lady, are you sure?”

Sure that she’d suffer? Yes.

Sure that she’d die? Yes.

Sure that what she was about to do mattered to someone else? Yes.

Would it be enough? She paid a price with each death, but she didn’t know if she’d ever forgive herself. Too many sins laid their heads at her door.

“Yes.” She passed him a hundred—twenty more than the ride deserved—which was the last of her hard-earned cash. She’d spent the past few months as a nanny for a temp agency—not the highest-paying job around. Soon she wouldn’t need it anyway. Scooting across the seat, she held one hand to the scarf wrapped tightly around her hair. In this weather it would curl into an untamable mass and she wanted to look her best when she met the afterlife. The trip to the sun, Osiris’s home for now, would take its toll. No reason to help it along. Besides, she’d never hear the end of it if Sadie—her sister phoenix—saw her looking less than perfect.

To the women she’d spent the last three hundred years with, she was the strongest in the group. They gravitated to her whenever there was a problem, believing she would fix it or that she’d offer up some bit of wisdom to either make them laugh or cure their worries. Evidently, practicing voodoo and acting as the priestess to her village made her “all knowing.”

She’d never shared the deep sorrow she lived with, and she wouldn’t. This was her penance, her problem. She’d never tell them that she was a murderess who couldn’t face the pain of her past. She’d never see the disgust pass over their faces when they learned she’d wiped out her family and friends in one spell gone bad.

The driver cleared his throat, drawing her back to the problem at hand. One bushy eyebrow rose. “You staying or going?”

“Going.” She scooted to the edge of the seat and called back, “Merci.”

The passenger window hummed, lowering and allowing the man’s bellow to catch her while she picked her way across the frozen ground. What now?

He leaned forward with one arm planted across the back of the seat. “It’s a long way back to town. Should I wait?”

Ice droplets slapped against her slim-fitting, white leather jacket. Despite the misery caused by the rain, she couldn’t ignore him. She hadn’t expected concern from the man who hadn’t said more than a handful of sentences during the half-hour drive here. Hoping the smile she plastered on her face didn’t show the pain shuddering through her, Ari shook her head. “No, thank you.”

Wouldn’t do any good—after the god was done with her, there wouldn’t be anything left.

She spun back around and hurried toward her target and the shack/station/grocery. The store’s crack-riddled bricks supported a wavy roof. One corner of the metal topping smacked against the building with the rhythm of the wind. A few more cadences and she’d have all the makings of a good ritual beat. How many hours had she danced in front of a roaring fire to heal her people?

Let it go, girl. You can’t help them now.

Four wooden columns supported the awning, which protected two gas pumps and the odds and ends tucked to one side of the entrance. The props had worked their way loose and small slabs of rock substituted the shims. “Mon Dieu, Osiris, could you have picked a nicer place?”

She faltered when the dead grass covered with soft snow smoothed into a mock concrete slab slicked with thin ice. The column she caught kept her from falling but shifted beneath the slapping roof. Really? Isn’t the weather bad enough? With one hand out, she skidded across the ice to a pile of sacked grain and sweet molasses. While she fought for her footing, she caught a glimpse of a man sitting on a warped bench beyond the burlap sacks. The swish of the rocker muffled beneath the whack of metal against wood would have gone unnoticed if she hadn’t slipped and pitched forward.

Thank the gods, he might be able to help her inside. “Hello?”

He didn’t answer. The fading sun hid his face in shadow, but she didn’t need to see it to know his torment. The evidence twisted its way down every taut line in his body. People didn’t sit in freezing rain and rock to the beat of the wind unless life proved to be too much. Envy at the man’s ability to escape into his own world rolled through her. So many times she’d begged to be saved from the memories, only to have her prayers go unanswered.

A deep, driving spasm of pain pummeled through her middle and urged her on. Her mark was close. The pain—her personal death beacon—never failed to find its target. When she found the target, she’d trade places with him or her, dying a horrible death, saving his or her soul, and hopefully moving one step closer to saving her own. That magical moment seemed to elude her no matter how vicious the death, and even if she did hate Osiris, she’d seen him work his own form of miracles. He’d already found a way through to Ice—the phoenix leader. Ari could only hope that soon it would be her turn, but who knew with the testy god. Ari often thought it funny he’d spent the last two thousand years turning souls away rather than using the three women to bring him more, but she was in no position to judge. If this meant he’d eventually allow her the redemption she sought, then it was all worth it.

The man mumbled, but didn’t offer to help her. The old coot wasn’t quite the Texas charmer she’d grown accustomed to. Thank goodness he didn’t represent most the men she’d met here. The “ma’ams” and chivalry were the reasons she’d come to love this place called Dallas, even if the sun would beat down in December and the ice attacked in January.

Ari stretched on her toes, hoping to make eye contact with him. “Hello?”

He gazed sightlessly forward. Wrinkled hands gripped the edges of the wooden handles, and his pace never altered. If he heard her, he definitely had a knack for ignoring people.

Maybe he was deaf. She slipped across the ice and chanted another sacred prayer of thanks for allowing her to manage without ruining her four-inch-heeled leather boots—an extravagance her friends had laughed at, but the added height always gave her that little bit of oomph she needed when entering a dangerous situation.

The rain flooded the small slab of concrete and even with the overhang, froze from the dropping temperatures, making it almost impossible to reach the front door. She lunged for the bench and grabbed the splintered board and part of the old man’s shoulder—purely by accident. He flinched away and rocked a little harder.

She dropped her hand and shuddered. The cold crept beneath her jacket, but not the jolt of energy marking him as her target. “Sir, it is colder than a father’s business end of a shotgun out here. Come inside and warm yourself.”

Nothing—again. Being this close to him didn’t send her stomach into a mass of fits, and she needed to find the one person who would. He or she was in that store, and each moment she wasted worrying over someone who obviously didn’t want her help took her that much further from her goal. But the woman in her, the one who’d always helped others, wanted to take his soul into her heart and heal him. He reminded her of the many expressionless faces frozen by death—her people, the village that she’d destroyed. The memories intensified the pain darting through her stomach. With a deep breath, she pushed them away and back into the box where she kept them locked tight.

She pressed against the glass door, and the chime above rang throughout the surprisingly large interior. From outside, she’d doubted they had room for a clerk, much less the small counter supporting a register and four short aisles leading to a back wall of cold goods. The cutie behind the counter grinned at her and winked. “Come on in.”

Ari half greeted the young man with a tip of her head. She hadn’t been much older than him when Osiris had taken her from the village. She stepped closer to his counter. The pain didn’t like him, but deeper in the store someone waited for her miracle—and the closer they were, the worse the ache dug in. Just when she couldn’t stand the agony any longer, she’d know she’d found her soul. She focused on placing one foot in front of the other, searching out the worse cramp imaginable, finding the source—her mark.

§

The country store was normally a quiet place on a Thursday night, but of course on the day he wanted to just get in and get out, he’d run into a couple of people who couldn’t be ignored. On his way inside, Greyson Meadows found Harry Rhoads on the old bench out front, ignoring him as usual. Grey had met Harry at a support group for discharged vets, where Harry’d welcomed him like a long-lost friend. He’d liked the old man, but the group itself had been too hard to get through. Grey’d quit, and Harry had ignored him since. Guess that warm welcome hadn’t been as friendly as he’d thought.

Once inside, he’d run into the only person alive who wouldn’t let him be. Grey tried to ignore Becky Martinez and her twin girls, but you’d have to be a coldhearted bastard to rebuke the beaming cherubs. He’d only wanted to grab a six-pack in time for the game, but no chance of that now. After spending years helping his best friend Turner raise his son, Brodie, Grey knew kids never leave until you say something. They were funny that way.

“Hey, girls.” He snatched the six-pack of beer from the cooler and let the door swing back into place. The plastic holding the cans together dangled from the hand he tucked behind his body. The girls’ innocent smiles and trusting gazes forced an unwanted edge of guilt into his conscience. Christ, he had enough shame to deal with without worrying over what two six-year-olds thought of his vices. Yet, here he stood hiding the evidence like he was fifteen and sneaking into his dad’s liquor cabinet.

“Hi, Mr. Meadows,” they chanted in unison, and giggled before running back to gather themselves against Becky’s pregnant belly. It looked like she’d swallowed one of last summer’s watermelon seeds and was about to harvest a blue ribbon fruit. Even into her last trimester, she’d never looked prettier.

Becky stroked their heads and waddled toward him. “Girls, you leave Grey alone.” Becky was the local sweetheart, married to Turner’s next-door neighbor Joe, and made the best apple pie in Texas. “We haven’t seen you out at the ranch much lately. How have you been?”

He wedged on a fake smile. The foreign expression hurt his cheeks, and from her frown, he knew he’d failed miserably. “Been fine. Working.” Need to get back to safe territory. Lead her away from the truth. “How’s Joe?”

Since Turner had hooked up with his son’s schoolteacher, Ice, Grey hadn’t been hanging out at the ranch. Watching Turner make goo-goo faces at his newest conquest didn’t exactly make for a great guys’ night. Staying away had kept him from dealing with Turner’s constant nagging, but it also distanced him from the friends he’d had before the war.

She stroked her burgeoning stomach and glanced down at the two towheaded nymphs snickering around their hands. “Good. Busy with the ranch. The girls wanted ice cream, and I wanted out of the house.” She patted her baby bump. “It won’t be long before Joe has me on lockdown. Glad to see you’re doing well, though.”

Becky smiled but it fell flat and false against the knowing gleam in her eyes. Never could hide anything from her. That’s why he stayed in the city. Small-town neighbors talked. He didn’t need the attention or the sympathy. So far, he and Turner had kept the local chitchat about his military past on the down-low. The wound festered enough without the community constantly picking at the scab—fragile as it was.

The door chimed, followed by the clip of heels against the uneven linoleum. Who would be wearing heels in this weather? His training forced him to glance over the aisles until he spotted the petite woman making her way deeper into the store. At six-foot-four, he towered over the rows and had a clear visual. Becky and the twins faded into his periphery with this beauty’s arrival.

She said something to Ronnie, the clerk, and walked down the first row, filled with candy bars and other carb-loaded junk food. Wet patches dotted her floral scarf, and the ice melted and dripped in rivulets on her narrow shoulders. She might well be the most petite woman he’d ever seen. Something stirred in his chest and moved south. Heat rushed through his body, shocking him with the intensity. It had been so long since he’d had this kind of interest in a woman.

Becky cleared her throat and startled him from his gawking. She cocked her hip to the side and balanced a hand where her waist should’ve been. Blonde eyebrows lifted and a sardonic grin teased the edge of her mouth. “Is she pretty?”

During his years as a Marine, he had perfected the art of controlling his expressions. Something about the stranger walking past the hand sanitizer and first-aid products made him forget every hard earned lesson. “Who?”

“Whoever caught your eye.” She grabbed the twins’ hands and steered them to the ice cream near the front counter, calling over her shoulder, “Better snatch her before Ronnie does.”

Ronnie, the local Romeo, hadn’t even reached twenty. The wet pup didn’t stand a chance with a woman like that. He spied her booted toe peeking around the corner of the end cap. Before she caught him gawking at her, Grey busied himself with fidgeting through the packaged doughnuts.

He pulled the bill of his baseball cap lower and glanced out of the corner of his eye. She had on one of those flimsy skirts, a wispy thing that floated down slender thighs and stopped just below the knees, giving him a good idea of what she’d look like beneath. Ridiculous brown leather boots elevated her and hugged her trim calves and slender ankles. Her form-fitting leather jacket accentuated her slight frame and opened enough to allow him a glimpse of rich brown skin above surprisingly plump breasts.

She glided closer. A small hand tugged on his jeans, interrupting his pleasure at watching the woman’s graceful movements. Adelle, one of the twins, raised a Popsicle up to him. “Momma said you need to cool off.”

Fighting the deepening heat in his face, he glanced up the aisle. He hadn’t blushed since he was a too-tall kid with braces back in junior high, and yet this was the second time tonight he’d felt the heat. Becky waved a hand against her face and burst out laughing when he scowled at her. She was worse than his mother. “Thanks, kid. Tell your mom it comes back on you threefold.”

“What does that mean?”

He patted Adelle on the head. “She’ll know.”

The woman stopped two feet from them. The smell of rain and roses cloaked the air and left the faintest taste of sugar water in his mouth. She laid her hand on Adelle’s head and smiled down at the girl. “You are very pretty.”

Her voice raked across his skin like a poker stirring a banked fire—the embers caught and burned hotter.

Adelle giggled and rose up and down on her toes. The woman knelt low. “Where’s your momma?”

“She’s getting ice cream.”

The woman glanced down the aisle at an innocent-looking Becky, who was now wedged between the front counter and an ice cream box. “Maybe you should go help her, oui?”

“You talk funny.”

“That I do.”

Adelle smiled, waved at Grey, and spun to run back to Becky and her sister, Lisette, leaving him alone with the woman. Say something. “You’re good with kids.”

Really? That’s all you got?

“Sometimes.” She grinned and it would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been for something else teasing behind the surface.

She untied the scarf securing her hair—one of those short bob styles with the bangs long and swept to one side. Deep pink streaks raced through the black strands, bright and totally at odds with the way she dressed. Those tinted locks brushed her brows and framed eyes that were like amber crystals, filled with a pain that echoed the agony in his soul. He didn’t think he’d ever find anyone else that had suffered like him, but here she stood with one corner of her bottom lip caught between her teeth. On most women, he’d take it as a sign of flirting, but in the past two years, he’d made “faking it” into a fine art.

And this woman was absolutely faking it.

His tongue dried, not from arousal—although that was present—but from the overwhelming awkwardness her presence invoked. It wasn’t just her beauty. The intelligence in her eyes captivated him, an almost cunning, predatory fixation, like she was on the hunt. Both completely enhanced the intensity of her gaze and pierced him in a place that made him want to share all of his horrible secrets.

No one had ever affected him like this.

She stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm before he could dodge. Reflexively, he backed away and held a hand out, inviting her to pass. “I’m sorry. I tend to hog the room.”

A light sparkle of laughter filled the air around him. He regretted being out of practice with flirting, and he’d do almost anything to hear her laugh again. She patted his biceps and leaned closer. “No, I was going to ask you a question.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, which of these would you recommend?” She reached across his chest, brushing his T-shirt with her shoulder. She met his eyes and a flare of something—maybe recognition—lit the crystals and softened whatever pain had been with her since she walked in. “Sorry.”

Two plastic-wrapped treats dangled from her fingertips. She held them out like rodents squirming from their tails. No way was she interested in that shit. That meant she wanted to talk to him, right? His chest tightened.

The woman pursed her lips and considered the packages with a serious frown. “Doughnuts or cookies?”

“Uh? Are you sure you want either?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Is it that obvious?”

A chuckle burst from him before he could shove it down. “Uh, yeah.”

When was the last time something had tickled him enough to even smile? Tonight, he’d laughed twice. Either the idea of “guys’ night” really had lightened his mood, or maybe he’d at long last started to get past some of his shit. He hoped for the latter, but suspected it was a combination of excitement over spending time with his buds and seeing old friends.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

Great, Grey, finally meet someone interesting and you zone out. “Sorry about that. What were you saying?”

She smirked and stuck out her hand. “I said, ‘if you were going to help me with a big decision about something as important as junk food, then we should introduce ourselves.’ I’m Arabella. You can call me Ari.”

Her petite hand latched onto his, and she pumped it a couple of times, harder than he’d thought her capable. One dark brow lifted, and she leaned forward. “Now you tell me your name. See how this works?”

He liked her. She was spunky without being a witch. Definitely not like the girls he’d dated over the years—before the war. He glanced down at her hand. How long had it been since he’d touched someone? Lately, he’d sunk deeper into his own seclusion. Not being around Turner and Brodie didn’t help. He’d relied on them after his release from the hospital, and they’d helped him back into society. But with each day left on his own, he lost a little of the ground he’d gained.

He watched their hands move together and forced his reply. “Greyson, but you can call me Grey. You’re not from around here.”

She kept shaking. Was she nervous too? “Non, I’m not.” She paused and he debated breaking in and asking more about where she was from and if she was staying in Texas. He lost his chance when she added, “An old world name. Do you have an old soul as well?”

Too damn old. “Older than it should be.”

She slanted her head and smiled again. The room filled with warmth when she tilted those pouty lips up at the corners. He still held her hand, and she didn’t try to pull away.

“So, Grey”—she gazed at their locked hands—“hmmm…I think you like holding my hand.”

He should let her go, but her soft palm fit perfectly in his. It had been so long since he’d held anything this warm close to him. He wanted to savor the feeling before the bad memories managed to wipe away the heat, leaving him a coldhearted mess of confusion and suffering.

“I need to hold you.” He crammed his eyes closed and fought his hand, the one that wanted to smack his forehead. Had he really just said that to her? “I…I mean…” Spit it out, man. “I like holding you.” Christ, forget about shoving your foot in your mouth, might as well just cram the whole damn leg down there. You idiot. “My hand likes holding yours.”

Fuck, just shut up.

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m here to protect it.” A spark leaped from her skin to his, and she heaved a ragged sigh. “Thank the gods. I found you.”

“I’m sorry?”

Ari lowered her voice. “I’ve been looking for someone to save me from making a horrible mistake.”

Grey ducked his head to hear her whisper. “And what mistake would that be?”

“I’d have put my foot in my mouth. I’ve been searching for someone who would do it first and make all my blunders seem totally normal.”

The first stages of heat flooded his face. “I—”

She laughed and stroked the inside of his palm with her index finger. “I’m joking. How is it that a man as pretty as you are doesn’t know how to flirt with a woman?”

The heat in his face quickly traveled south with that one brush of her skin against his. She’d asked him a question, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think beyond the twinkle in her eyes. “Uh…”

“What? No quick comeback to go on about yourself? I left you the best opening.” One corner of her mouth tipped up and a hint of mischief flashed across her face.

She expected him to brag? Damn, she was cute, and so not what he needed right now. “I don’t need an opening. I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you’re going for here, but I’m not interested in a relationship.”

Her lips dropped. “Oh, well…that’s good. I’m not either. In fact, I’m only here to help you.”

She seriously thought there was something she could do for him? Hell, he’d long given up hope, but it was still tempting to think of her trying. “I doubt you can do anything for me.”

“But, I came for you.”

Did she mean what he wanted her to mean? “Excuse me?”

Instead of answering him, she scanned the store. “We’re in danger.”

“Danger?” Great. He met someone that interested him, and she turned out to be a bigger loon than old Harry.

He opened his mouth, poised to ask what she meant when a shout from the front of the store stopped him.

“Back of the store!” Harry shifted on the balls of his feet, an agile move for someone Grey’d always considered weak. His head crested over the aisles like a fishing cork bobbing in the Trinity River. Harry appeared in front of Grey. He shoved his hand inside the heavy camo jacket he wore and withdrew a pistol. The dull, black metal had seen better days, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t do damage. Harry jerked the gun in Becky’s direction, waving her toward the coolers behind him and Ari. Harry’s moves, more agitated as the seconds rolled past, stiffened. “I said, back of the store! Now!”

Everything slowed down. Grey watched Ari take charge, helping the Martinezes toward the back of the store. Becky’s eyes widened and filled with tears. Adelle whimpered and caught Ari’s hand. “You have pink hair.”

“Do I?” Grey saw her flick a hand through the tresses and pulled one forward to inspect. “It appears I do.” She pressed one finger to her lips and petted each of the girls’ faces in turn. “Shhh…now, stay quiet and help your momma. Shhh…”

Her words worked. The girls lowered their cries to heart-wrenching whimpers. Only the occasional sniffle from Becky interrupted the deathly silence in the air.

He could think now. He’d never been able to stand a woman’s tears. Made him hurt in places he didn’t know he could and reminded him of the twenty plus families he’d visited after his recovery.

Grey threw his hands in the air and took a step toward the danger. “Harry, come on. Let’s talk about this. You don’t want to hurt us. We’re your friends, man.”

With his back to the counter, Harry didn’t see Ronnie picking his way down the aisle with a bat slung over his shoulder like he was ready to hit a grand slam. This would get real ugly if the kid missed, but it could be even uglier if he killed Old Harry. Killing a man left a stain on your soul no amount of praying could get rid of.

Ronnie raised the bat, poised for the swing when little Adelle’s breath caught. Poor kid never could keep that mouth closed. Harry whipped around. He raised the pistol and fired. The bullet formed a neat hole between Ronnie’s widened eyes before he crumbled to the ground. Harry didn’t even take a breath before he spun back to them.

Shit.

The Martinezes screamed—there would be no consoling them now. “Ronnie!” Becky’s shout pulled Harry’s attention back to them.

Grey rushed Harry and met the business end of that pistol. He slid to a stop close enough to feel the heat from the barrel against his chin.

“Back up.” Harry’s eyes didn’t focus. Wherever he was, he wasn’t here.

“Harry?” Grey stepped back. “Harry, put the gun away.”

Harry was a vet. He’d understand orders—depending on which side he considered Grey to be on. Hopefully, he’d be able to bring him back calmly. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d talked down a soldier who was a little too strung out from the crap they’d been put through. Hell, he’d had nurses give him plenty of lectures while in rehab. But, this…this was different. Here there were no trained professionals—just him, his mouth, and his fists.

Harry swung his blank stare to Grey. “I don’t know you.”

“Sure you do, Harry. We met in the VA group sessions, remember? I quit going, but you definitely know me. You’ve been ignoring me since I stopped, but I still say hello every time I see you. It’s an old game, friend.” He did his best to keep his eyes off the boy laying three feet behind Harry. Now was not the time to lose it, and seeing that kid’s dead body would send him over the edge.

Harry raised the gun level with Grey’s face and his trigger finger tightened. “Step back.”

Grey widened the distance between them by half a foot until he bumped into Ari. Her small hands gripped his hips and one slid along his waist when she moved to his side. He appreciated the comfort, but now he had one more worry added to his long list.

He glanced up at the mirror hanging from the ceiling and watched Becky pull the girls’ faces toward her round stomach, shielding their eyes from the nightmare. Ari placed a hand across Grey’s chest and stepped at an angle in front of him. “We are friends here, non? There is no reason to do this.”

For a moment, it looked like Harry actually considered her question, but then he sunk back into whatever wormhole his mind had wandered into. This demon eating at him physically manifested in Harry’s face, twisting the gnarled skin into a savage hate. “You’re all going to die.”

Grey shouted at Harry, who’d already begun squeezing the trigger. The bullet would kill him for sure, but he worried more about the women and children behind him. He already had one more death on his head. He didn’t want to consider losing Becky and the girls or this exotic creature of courage standing next to him.

Everything slowed down.

The bullet spat out. A bundle of soft woman jumped in front of him. Her back thumped him in the chest when the metal tore into her. She hunched forward before rolling to the floor, curled in a fetal position. Blood decorated the white packages of powdered doughnuts they’d flirted over. His instincts—mixed with the rage at such a senseless act—kicked in. He had to get to that gun before they all died.

Grey rushed Harry. He hit the older man at the waist, but not before Harry shot off his remaining rounds in rapid succession—each one finding a target behind Grey. The sickening thud of slugs finding flesh drove the bile to Grey’s throat. The last bullet found its home in his upper arm and flung Grey around. His knees buckled, and he lost his grip on Harry.

Christ, bullets hurt.

He rolled, applying pressure on his wound with one hand and reaching out to Ari with the other. She still hadn’t moved. His muscles seized in his forearm and shoulder when he tried to use his injured arm, but he finally managed to get on his knees. Not even the war prepared him for the devastation behind him.

§

She’d known she’d die for Grey once she’d touched him—the pink streaks in her hair sealed the deal—but did every death have to be so damned violent? Pulling herself upright was a near impossible task. Her left side had a fist of fire working its way through her. She had trouble maintaining her balance in the heels, but finally stood, although she probably resembled a stunted troll. Ari glanced down at the blood oozing around her fingers where they pressed against the gaping hole. Grey crouched two feet from her, frozen in his own personal hell. She opened her mouth to say something, but with the change upon her, the phoenix stole her voice. She had to move, get away before the shift.

He gazed at Ronnie and then back at the sweet Martinez family stretched out under the cold drinks. No, no, no…please no. She shook her head in total denial that history was destined to repeat itself. The walls closed in and her breaths, already labored from the wound, became almost nonexistent.

A noise unlike anything she’d ever heard broke from the man she’d almost failed. He crawled across the floor to the family, pressing his hands against the little girls’ throats. Harsh grunts followed by keening pitches tore through the silence. Tears leaked down his face.

His large hand flattened over the woman’s stomach. “No. N-No. No, Becky, come on.” He lifted her eyelid, but she was gone. The pasty pallor of death had already crept into her skin.

He turned back for Ari, whipped his head around to where she should have still laid, but Ari had made it to the end of the aisle. She gasped at the blunt grief embedded in his face. How could she leave him now, knowing she’d failed so many and he’d have to deal with it alone?

Her soul would find a way to master the pain, but would his?

Osiris, you bastard.

Grey’s gaze locked with hers. Deep brown orbs almost blackened with his pain. “Why?”

She had no answers. No one knew why some were chosen and others were at the mercy of their circumstance, but Ari knew what it felt like to watch those left behind. A horrible guilt beat at her, knowing she’d leave him with the weight of failure, and the evidence that he felt that weight remained etched in every line on his face. His gaze skimmed down to her wound, and he stumbled forward. An unintelligible expletive dragged out of his mouth.

Ari raised a hand and backed away. Fire licked along the back of her palm, hidden beneath her skin. Hopefully Grey’s grief would hide her transformation or at the very least help him forget what he was about to see.

Soon, she’d be ablaze with temperatures hot as the sun. She’d never forgive herself if he were burned by the phoenix’s fire. Slowly, the life drained away, and she shifted into her other being—the strong and flaming bird, the protector of her soul, her life. This form would carry her to the palace on the sun, the home of her god and her sister in heart.

Grey threw his hands up to shield his eyes, and took a step with one hand stretched toward her flame. “Ari.” His voice broke, and her phoenix came to life, screaming through the pain in her heart created by his plea.

When the light faded, she’d be gone.

 

Chapter Two

 

Ari slammed through the portal. Her phoenix burned during her journey, protecting her mortal body from the blistering heat of the sun. She landed in a heap against a pile of pillows scattered across the warm marble floor. A bright yellow sarong floated down from a ceiling of magic and marble to cover her from head to toe. At least Osiris didn’t expect them to run around naked while they were here.

With a hasty yank, she clutched it to her and wrapped it toga-style around her body. She rolled to a kneeling position and quickly jumped up, screaming at the ceiling, “Osiris! I know you can hear me. Show yourself.”

The door to his private chambers banged against the marble statue bracketing the side of the doorframe. “Is that any way to talk to a god?”

He walked out in one of his white outfits that always made her think of ninjas. The way he slid in and out of their lives fit the description perfectly. Right now, she didn’t care if he ninja’d his way into a fiery death of hellfire—she needed only his cooperation and cared little for his attitude.

“Osiris, you have to send me back.”

“Back where, my pet?”

Normally, she’d curse him with every black spell she knew for calling her by anything other than her name, but they didn’t work now that she was a phoenix. Osiris had taken those powers away from her long ago. She’d save her energy for the bigger fight—no doubt there’d be one. He usually only did something if it suited his purpose, so talking him into sending her back would be damn near a miracle.

The sarong billowed around her ankles when she rushed to meet him. “Back to Dallas. Back to him.” Back to redemption.

His sandaled feet smoothed across the floor, barely marking his movement, until he reached his favorite bench, which overlooked a halo of colors surrounding the flames of the sun. “Don’t you love the view?”

Cruelty? Really? His ways were only one of the reasons she hated him. The top being that he hadn’t let her die with her village so many years ago. She’d spent the first fifty years of her new existence begging for mercy and death. Not once had he shown himself to her. No, in fact, he’d been spying on her, disguised as one of their sister phoenixes, Giselle. He’d watched her suffer and hadn’t lifted a finger. Oh yes, she despised him for his lies and manipulations. “You have to help me.”

“You shouldn’t remember yet. The phoenix should have taken care of that.” He squinted back at her. True. Normally, the life they’d just abandoned to save a soul would fade away. To help ease the loss and memory of people left behind, the phoenix would give them a blessed reprieve. But, eventually it always returned. Every memory. Every person. Every pain. “You either really want this, or your bird is failing you.”

Maybe he was right. She’d never passed through her phoenix phase without losing memories of the mark she’d saved. This time she hadn’t forgotten the dark brown eyes of the man large enough to command a room, but somehow lacking the presence. And those sweet little girls, or the mother, Becky, who had teased Grey like a brother. They had all died for nothing. “It doesn’t matter why I remember, I just do. It is all that counts.”

And she needed to get back now before Grey did something he couldn’t take back.

Osiris folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “I happen to disagree.”

She had to convince him, and she knew just what to use as leverage. She fled to the room she used while there. Thrashing through her armoire, she found a long-sleeved chemise and an airy skirt. She added a pair of leather boots and a matching leather jacket. She stepped back into the main hall and stared the god down. Only one thing mattered enough to be able to use over him. Sadie. She darted into his private chamber to get the picture he kept there.

“Hey!” Osiris’s shout echoed against the walls and bounced against her with the power surge he sent through the palace. No, he definitely didn’t like it when she tested him.

None of the others had the guts to enter his room, but she’d never been able to curb her curiosity. It had almost become a favorite game to pass the time. She’d sneak in and move things around on him just for the joy of him knowing she didn’t fear his wrath. Her many ventures inside had given her more than enough clues that the god had it bad for their sister phoenix. She’d found a scarf with Sadie’s scent draped across his pillow once. He’d saved photos of her over the years and kept them in an album beneath his bed. But, the one that he kept out fascinated even her. The truly spectacular shot of the redhead caught every nuance of her personality.

Ari snatched the tintype from his bureau and raced back to the main hall before he made it across the room. She held out the photo, closing in on him at a rapid pace. He didn’t budge.

The picture was a turn-of-the-century shot of the three phoenixes dressed in slim gowns that trailed the floor. Broad-brimmed hats adorned both Ice’s and Ari’s heads, but not Sadie’s. No, she wore her ringlets in wild disarray, much to Ice’s chagrin. The camera caught the annoyed tip of Ice’s chin and the merriment in Ari’s eyes. Those were the days. Damn, she missed Ice. When she got back, she’d find time to check in on their ex-leader.

She marched up to Osiris and stuffed the aged frame in his face. “I’m ready, and this is why you are going to send me back.”

He rose from his perch, shaking his head. “So, you have an old photo. What does that have to do with anything?”

“If you don’t, I’m going to tell Sadie”—she pointed at the redhead in the shot, the young woman frowning behind Ari and Ice—“how much you really care about her.”

His reaction meant everything. Osiris and Ice had been married once, thousands of years ago. He’d ascended and left her behind to care for their son. The child died and Ice turned to vengeance, blaming her people for all the bad in her life. When Osiris had changed Ari, she was sure it was not only to pay her penance but to befriend Ice. But Sadie had only been added to the small phoenix family a little over a hundred years ago. She hadn’t made as much sense until Ari’d watched Osiris with the fiery American. Now she hoped that exploiting his feelings would work to her advantage. Manipulation was the least of the sins she’d use to get back to Grey.

Osiris’s lashes lowered, and his jaw tensed. A growl rolled through him as he stalked up to her. He wouldn’t hit her, of that she was almost sure, but she’d never really seen him lose it before either. “You conniving little…you know nothing.”

Even with his wrath filling the room with more heat than she could bear, she pressed on. She had to make him give in. If she didn’t get back…well, she knew the look on Grey’s face. Understood what it meant to his soul if he didn’t recover from the grief. “Ice has never seen it because she was so wrapped up in her own heartache, but I’ve observed you for years. The way you watch Sadie and always team up with her for living arrangements when we’re on a job, I know you love her.”

He didn’t deny it, and if looks could clip wings, she’d be a snipped hen. He didn’t acknowledge her accusation either. “What exactly do you hope to accomplish? You’ve saved his life. What more is there?”

His mind. His soul. “You didn’t see him. He’s not saved. He’s…broken. He’ll never get over this. Not unless I can help him.” Because I’ve been through it. “Please, Osiris, please let me go to him. I’ve failed everyone else, and I need you to let me have this.” She’d never asked the god for anything except death. And for his own perverse pleasure, he’d never give her that, but this he could do. “S’il vous plait. Do you want me to beg?”

The tension drained from his body, and his head rolled against his shoulders. One hand rose to massage his chin, and his eyes lit up with some unknown devilment. “Would you?”

Even though she was sure he was about to make her life a bigger living hell, she dropped to her knees. “Is this what you want?”

“He means that much to you?”

Ari raised the photo, tapping at Sadie’s face with one manicured nail. “Does she?”

Osiris scanned the picture in her hands. “I will do it, but there will be consequences.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Be careful, Arabella, ‘anything’ can be an endless word.” He strolled to his bench and waited for her to follow. His patience would be the death of her. “Come.” He patted the seat. She hesitated. Osiris frowned and patted the seat with more force.

He wouldn’t speak until she did what he wanted. Damn arrogant god. “Fine.”

“I don’t see what your hurry is.”

She didn’t expect him to understand the devastation. Of all the times for her phoenix to fail her, why now, when she needed it most? She didn’t want to remember those girls tucked against the pregnant woman or the poor boy behind the counter. Worse than all of that, was the beautiful man’s broken face. Never before had she seen anything like it. “You didn’t see his eyes. I couldn’t live with myself…if…if he—”

“You will relinquish your phoenix.”

“What? You’re kicking me out?”

Throwing his hands in the air, he shook his head. “I don’t understand. I thought this was what you wanted.”

“It is, but I…I never thought you’d give it to me.”

“I’m not giving you anything, Ari, I’m taking it away. I have to. Your purpose as a phoenix is to save a soul. If I send you back without a mark, then I have to strip your phoenix from you.” He rose and paced a few feet from her. “You’ll go back and heal your Grey’s broken heart. You’ll return to him human. And you will also get back your power.”

If the situation wasn’t so solemn, she would have squealed with glee. “Voodoo?”

“Power. It has been dormant under your phoenix form for centuries, and I suspect it will be stronger than when I took it from you. Much stronger. You must learn to control it by the time I come for you, or I may be forced to take your soul. I can’t have you being a danger to my humans.”

He paused. Waiting for something, but she wasn’t sure what. Just get on with it so I can go back to him.

“And?”

“Do you understand what I’m telling you? If you fail, I’m going to rip your soul from your body and dump it in the Underworld for all eternity. What does that mean to you?”

She rushed to him and placed her arms around him. “I’ll do anything to help Grey through this. If it means losing my soul, so be it. I’ve been prepared for that for a long time.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth and mumbled something about stupid females. “Don’t dawdle. I’ll only give you a couple of weeks.”

At this point, that seemed like an eternity. She’d have her power back and her humanity. Nothing sounded sweeter or sadder. She’d been the phoenix for so long and now in the face of losing it, the pain and worry invaded. What if she didn’t succeed? What if she couldn’t save him?

Osiris leaned over her, placing his hands on her waist. “You have no choice but to save him. You only think you want death, Ari, but it’s a lonely place. Please find peace.”

Her skin heated. He shifted his hands to her lower abdomen—a hair above indecency—and pressure built from the inside out. The burning radiated an overwhelming sadness in her heart.

Ari caught his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking her from you.” He placed his hand beneath her shirt, spreading his fingers against her torso. A burning itch built under his palm and when she would have pulled away, he clutched her shoulder, blocking any escape.

She gave up trying to fight and raised the edge of her shirt to watch Osiris drag the apparition from her stomach. He used his power to wrench the phoenix free, and the beautiful creature hung from his fist in a mist-like form. Blues bled into reds and oranges, her feathers dipped in gold. She rubbed her beak against Osiris’s forearm.

Ari reached forward and traced the outline of the phoenix, afraid to touch her, but too afraid not to. “She’s beautiful.”

“Made so by you. Now her job is done.” He strode to the doors. “Time to set you free.” His fingers unclenched and the bird hovered beside him for a moment before soaring off into the brilliance of the sun. Probably the most magical moment of her life and Ari knew she’d never forget her. But every aspect of life came to an end—if the phoenix had taught her anything, it was that. Now, it was time to learn a new one and to make this last leap count.

Failure was not an option.
 

 
 
 

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