Phoenix: The Rising (8 page)

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Authors: Bette Maybee

BOOK: Phoenix: The Rising
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Grace bobbed her head up and down.

“Another redhead from
Palisades
.”

“Don’t forget about the green eyes,” Tina added. “He has green eyes, just like that girl.”

“What is this, a tag team?” Sloan snorted. The class groaned at his bad joke.

“Quiet down, now,” Mr. Fredricks warned. “It’s true, there is a young man missing from
Palisades
. An Amber Alert was issued Saturday evening.”

“The kid’s probably just hiding out ‘cause he’s embarrassed that he lost the game,” Sloan chimed in.

The kicker!
Julie remembered him pacing along the sideline throughout the game, his flaming red hair weaving through the other players as they stood to watch their teammates on the field. It wasn’t until right before he was called in that he finally put on his helmet. He was definitely a redhead.

“Did they find him?” Julie couldn’t believe the voice that said that was her own. She looked back at Eli. He was staring at her again. There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face.

“They won’t,” Grace said matter-of-factly.

“At least not until after tonight,” Tina added. “It takes three days for the Fire-child to come back to life.”

“Why three days, Tiny? Does this thing have some Messiah-complex?” Sloan smirked and looked around at his classmates, obviously to see if they appreciated his sarcasm.

Julie recoiled in her seat as Tina’s fists slammed on the top of her desk. “My name is TINA!”

“Okay. Enough!” Mr. Fredricks stepped over by Tina. By now, tears ran down Tina’s reddened cheeks, and she covered her face with her hands. “Sloan, Moseman’s office, now!”

“What?” Sloan hopped up out of his seat. “What did I do? She’s the one that went apeshit! Why doesn’t—”

“Out!” Mr. Fredricks pointed towards the door.

Sloan grabbed his bag and mumbled obscenities under his breath as he marched out.

Julie leaned over to Tina. “Are you okay?”

Tina wiped her cheeks as she brought her hands down. She took a breath and exhaled as she looked over at Julie. “Yes. Thanks.” She cocked her head sideways. “Green.”

Julie straightened up in her chair. “What?”

“You have green eyes.” She sniffled and shook her head. “Good thing you don’t have red hair. That would have put you on their short list.”

Julie’s hand shot to her hair as she forced a smile. Platinum blonde. It had taken her a couple of years to perfect the color. Red wasn’t easy to cover, but she finally did it. Now each time she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see her mother staring back at her—the mother who had abandoned her on her
twelfth
birthday—the mother she had learned to hate. Yes, platinum had been a good choice. Bland. Unobtrusive. Made her melt in with the crowd. And now it was possibly protecting her.

Stop it
!
You’re being ridiculous
! Julie shook her head and stood. “I’m sorry, but this is a bunch of crap. There isn’t a Fire-Child that can come back to life, or giants running around here killing redheaded, green-eyed kids. That girl was stupid, running home in the dark on a highway. Somebody hit her, got scared then dumped her body. That boy is probably hiding out somewhere. Sloan was right. He’s probably gone through his life being called a Ginger or a Day-walker and when he blew that field goal, he knew things would only get worse. This has nothing to do with a legend. This is the real world. People get hurt. People die.”

“Nephilim.”

Julie whirled around at the sound of Grace’s calm voice.

“What?”

“They’re Nephilim. Not giants. They’re large in stature and strong ... very strong. Their bones are so heavy they can’t swim. Besides being mortal, that’s their one weakness. But they fit in, Julie. They always have. Except for the first ones, I guess. They were much more noticeable. Much more dangerous. But through the generations, they’ve become ... watered down, I guess you might say. You wouldn’t know that, of course, being new here and all. You can’t tell them from a normal person. They live and die, just like the rest of us, and that’s what pisses them off. They want the immortality their ancestral fathers have. They’re angels, after all. Fallen angels. The Fire-Child has that immortality, and they want it. They figure it’s their birthright.”

“Enough.” Mr. Fredricks’s surprisingly commanding voice halted the conversation. “Things are obviously getting a little out of hand here, and we need to go on.” He turned to Julie. “Why don’t you take a little break, Miss Mason?”

Julie blinked and looked around the room. Kids were staring, some smirking. She grabbed her books and headed out the door.

Instead of just going to the bathroom, she headed to the office, told the nurse she was sick, and walked out of school. She’d had enough stress for one day, and if she left, she wouldn’t have to face Kas, or Charsey, or Eli. Tears filled her eyes as she fumbled for her keys.

“Julie.”

Julie stopped scrounging in her purse and looked up into Eli Sullivan’s concerned face.
Great. This is all I need!

“Are you okay?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “I can’t find my keys.”

A small grin flashed on the corner of Eli’s perfect lips as he took the purse from Julie, reached in, and produced the keys in one swift movement. He held them out to her. “Here.”

She looked down at his hand. His right hand. The same one that had connected with Kas Penemue’s teeth the other night. It was flawless. Perfect. No sign of injury.
Impossible
.

She looked back up at Eli’s face. He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Your hand. There’s not a mark on it.”

The smile disappeared as he dropped the keys in her hand and pulled his own away. “Um—yeah, I’m a quick healer.” He motioned up to Julie’s face. “Apparently you are, too.”

Julie touched her lips. “Yeah. Funny thing. I woke up Saturday morning and it was like they’d never been hurt.”

Eli backed up a couple of steps and motioned behind him. “I really need to get back to class. Fredricks thinks I’m in the bathroom.” He turned and trotted back to the building as Julie looked on.
Impossible
.

Chapter Seven

 

As Julie approached the gate to her house, she glanced in her rear view mirror. A black pick-up slowed to a crawl on the road about a hundred yards behind her.
Penemue
! She pressed the remote for the gate and lurched forward, not waiting for it to open all the way, flinching as the unmistakable screech of metal on metal erupted from the passenger side of her convertible. As soon as she cleared the gate, she pressed the remote and raced up the lane to her house. She didn’t bother parking in the garage, but instead, parked in the circle drive and ran inside. The front door was unlocked. Renatta was home.
Lovely.

Julie bounded up the stairs, threw her bag in the chair and collapsed on her bed. All the way home she’d thought about Eli’s hand. How could it not show a sign of injury? There had been a jagged gash and it would have left some type of mark, but it wasn’t even pink. It was like he was never injured, and he acted so strangely when she mentioned it. 
A quick healer?
 
Nobody heals that quickly
.

Julie sat up and walked over to her dresser mirror. She brushed her finger across her flawless lips and then slipped off her shrug, revealing her bare shoulders.
Nobody
...

A shrill squeal from outside jerked Julie out of her thoughts, and she ran to the window. Below she could see Renatta sunbathing on a lounger as the pool boy worked.
Boy
was definitely the wrong word for this guy. A monster of a man, he looked like he spent most of his day pumping iron. His biceps had to be twice the size of Renatta’s thighs. The dark-haired Adonis playfully swatted water at Renatta, and she squealed again. She got up, adjusted the bottom of her bikini, and slithered over to him. Julie closed her shades just as Renatta placed her hand on the man’s chest. Part of her wanted to get out her camera and take pictures to show her father, to get this witch out of her life, but she knew he was already aware of Renatta’s indiscretions. He was lonely since her mother abandoned them, and after his second wife left and moved on to greener, more lucrative pastures, he’d go along with just about anything to keep Renatta around—even leaving Julie at home to fend for herself while they had their little getaways. Loneliness could make you do crazy things. Julie was well aware of that. She just hoped he’d come to his senses before he was hurt again.

Later that evening, Julie picked at her salad as her father and Renatta chatted. Renatta laughed at things her father said that weren’t funny enough to be laughed at. She wiped the corner of his mouth with her napkin after he took a bite of food. She ran her jeweled fingers down the length of his arm. She was a seductress, and her father loved it. Julie cleared her throat, and her father tore his eyes away from Renatta.

“Oh—well, Julie, how was school today?”

“I came home early.” Renatta’s eyes flashed over to Julie. “About 9:30. I was feeling sick.”

Renatta took a quick drink of her wine. “Why didn’t you let me know you were home? We could have gone shopping or something.” She smiled at Julie’s father and raised her wine to her lips.

“I told you, I was feeling sick. And besides, you were a little busy. Out by the pool.”

Wine spewed out of Renatta’s mouth back into her glass and onto the table. She held her napkin to her lips and then began blotting the tablecloth.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I swallowed wrong.” She smiled at Julie’s father and then glared in Julie’s direction.

“You know I’m never too busy for you, Julie. I could have brought you some chicken soup, or-or something.”

Julie put her fork down. “How ... motherly of you, Renatta.”  She looked over to her father. “May I be excused? My stomach is still a little upset.” Funny thing
—i
t really was.

Julie’s father glanced at Renatta, who was concentrating way too hard on cleaning up the spots of wine on the tablecloth, and then back over to Julie. His face had flushed just a bit. Julie didn’t know if it was from the wine or because he knew what
busy out by the pool
meant.

“Sure, Kiddo. Let me know if you need anything.”

Julie pushed her chair out and headed upstairs. She flopped onto her bed and tried to calm the rage she was feeling for Renatta. The woman wasn’t worth it. As soon as she found someone else who had a little more money than her father, she’d be gone. History. And her father would be just another “notch in her lipstick case” as Pat Benatar put so eloquently. It was just a matter of time.

****

Julie awoke just before midnight to a news banner running across the bottom of her TV screen.
THE BODY OF JARED WHITE, SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD
PALISADES
SENIOR, HAS BEEN FOUND. WHITE HAD JUST TRANSFERRED TO
PALISADES
FROM THE BAY AREA....
A picture popped up showing the carrot-topped boy. His green eyes were undeniable. Julie bolted upright in bed and ran over to the computer.

A-l-l-i-s-o-n
space
G-a-r-s-t.
  Julie typed the girl’s name into her search line and hit ‘enter’. Stories from three
California
news stations popped up. She clicked on the first one and scanned the page. Allison Garst’s body was found just as Charsey had described, after the area had been searched repeatedly, but nothing was mentioned about her clothes, or lack of them. It did say her death was being investigated as a possible homicide . . . and that she had just moved to the area. Just like Jared White. Just like her.

Julie clicked on an arrow below the picture of a police car sitting on the road. She reeled back in her chair when the young woman’s face popped up. Thick, auburn-red curls cascaded just past Allison’s shoulders and soft, wispy bangs brushed the top of her eyes. Her deep, green eyes. Julie pushed a button and the screen darkened. She stared unblinking at her reflection as she ran her finger along a two-inch, razor-thin scar just under her left collarbone.
So young. No one deserves to die this young.
No one.

A tap at the door startled Julie back to the moment.
Great! Dad wants to talk ... or worse yet, Renatta wants to jump down my throat.
Julie marched over to the door and stood by it.

“What?”

A male voice mumbled something unintelligible.
Dad!
She sighed in relief. She could handle talking to her father for a few minutes. She opened the door.

“What the...?”

Eli Sullivan didn’t wait for an invitation; he stepped into Julie’s room and closed the door. Sweat glistened at his temples. Julie took three steps back into the room, not quite far enough to dispel the electric charge she immediately felt in his presence.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I saw that your light was on.”

Julie looked around the room. Her window faced the back of the house, and the house wasn’t visible from the road, which was outside of a locked gate.

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