Ashes of the Firebird (The Firebird Fairytales Book 2) Read online

  “Lilu are storm demons,” Isabelle said. “Usually when they are flaunting there powers or having sex, a storm will form due to the energy build up.”

  “That good in bed are you?” Anya joked before she could check herself.

  “Let me know when you want to find out. I’m awfully curious about you so it’s an open invitation,” Silvian said giving her a lazy wink. His robe had mysteriously fallen open and Anya quickly looked away.

  “You wish,” she managed to say. Silvian chuckled and it slid right up her backbone. As if she didn’t have enough problems.

  Chapter Thirteen- Whips and Chains

  Harley stretched out like a cat on the green velvet couch in Fox’s basement and watched “the brain” at work. Usually, Fox did not allow anyone down there when working but Harley had bribed her with fresh pizza, Coronas and chocolate. If she didn’t show up spontaneously, Fox would never get out of there and get something to eat while she worked. One couldn’t live on coffee alone, though Fox liked to put the theory to the test.

  “I’m glad to be out of the workshop,” Harley commented as she sipped her Corona.

  “Oh? That’s a new one,” Fox replied without taking her eyes off the computer screen.

  “Mama said something to me the other night and it’s just messed with my whole train of thought. She’s good like that.”

  “What was it about?”

  “Blue Jay.” Fox looked up from the keyboard, swivelled around to face her.

  “What about Blue Jay?” she said as she opened another beer. It was one of the only times Harley had seen her leave the key board mid task to talk to her.

  “She asked if I put blood in his coffee.”

  “Okay gross. Is that some kind of magic thing that maybe I should know about?”

  “If you put a drop of blood in your man’s coffee everyday he will never leave you…allegedly,” Harley explained before finishing her beer and opening another.

  “She thinks you did that to Blue Jay? That’s weird.”

  “Tell me about it. She thinks there is some secret thing going on between us and I don’t know how many times I have to tell her that it’s crap.”

  “Is there?” Fox asked seriously.

  “No! What the hell makes you think that?”

  “Don’t get pissy. I have eyes, Harley, I have seen the way he looks at you.”

  “Yeah, like a kid sister.”

  “You were a kid when you went to live with Mama. You came back when you were a full grown woman. He might look at you like a protégé but a sister? Hell no.” Harley was silent for a full thirty seconds before she flipped a piece of pizza over on another and picked it up like a sandwich.

  “I don’t know, Foxy. He has never tried to put a move on me before. He is probably just protective through some weird sense of loyalty to my old man.”

  “Whatever, don’t listen.” Fox’s computer beeped and she turned back around to see what it was. “Oh snap! I have the name of the company that built the facility for the Illumination. Abott and Hope Security and Construction Corporation. It looks like they have built some of the governments prisons too.”

  “Any building plans?” Harley asked eagerly.

  “No, it does say here that the firms have access to each other’s servers.”

  “Explain please, I don’t speak nerd.”

  “It means if I get onto their computers in New Orleans, I can open information from there Arizona office and so on. The network is entirely linked.” Fox started to grin; Harley caught on and grinned back.

  “You feel like doing some breaking and entering?” Fox asked.

  “I thought you would never ask.”

  Two hours later, Fox had pulled the Director in New Orleans personal bank records and found some interesting hobbies of Mr. Robert Arthurs. As it turned out, he had a soft spot for call girls who specialised in bondage.

  Fox watched Harley approach the security officer that stood on guard at the back of the Abott and Hope building. She had on a black vinyl dress that was held together with silver buckles. Harley had protested that she felt like fat wrapped in clear wrap, but with her curves and the choice pieces of flesh showing she looked like a man’s wet dream. Fox herself had opted for red hot pants, fishnets and bustier top to enhance her next to nothing cup size.

  The security guard looked like a kid at Christmas. They were done up in full hooker makeup and hair and subsequently looked nothing like they usually did. There was no mistaking what they were there for.

  “I didn’t think Mr. Arthurs was expecting company tonight,” he said nervously.

  “That’s because we are a surprise! He has been such a valued customer over the years that we are a freebie to make sure we keep him,” Harley gave him a wink.

  “Well, that’s mighty kind of you. I’m sure the boss won’t be able to say no to such pretty dolls.”

  “Aren’t you sweet,” Harley giggled, making the poor man grin like an idiot. Fox pulled out her riding crop from the back of her boot and tapped him smartly on the chest.

  “How about you stop flirting with the merchandise and point us in the direction of your boss.” The security guard’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Clearly, he wasn’t used to a woman taking such a direct approach.

  “So you’re the tough one then?”

  “Honey bun, you have no idea how tough we can be and you really don’t want to find out. Please hurry up and stop wasting our time. We charge by the hour, you know.”

  “All right, all right, settle down.” He swiped his card over the door panel and let them in. Annoyingly, he insisted on escorting them most of the way.

  “You just keep following that corridor, turn left at the end and you will be in Mr. Arthurs’ office,” he said as they stepped out of the lift.

  “Thank you so much, I don’t know how we could have found it without you.” They gave him little waves as the doors slid shut.

  “Christ alive, you’re way too comfortable with this,” Fox commented.

  “Really? Because I have a pair of crotchless panties riding up my ass right now, so I’m anything but comfortable. Besides, I’m not the one with half a sex shop in her bedroom.”

  “Touché,” said Fox. “You just get in there and work your magic. I will find the IT room and get back here as quick as I can. Don’t forget to make it appear that you know what you are doing.”

  “Hurry up. He needs to see both of us in order for the guard’s story to match up.”

  It didn’t take long for Fox to find what she was looking for. Most companies now had rooms set aside just for their computer technicians and servers. The one that Fox discovered was large and conveniently well stocked. After playing with their connections, she helped herself to some choice computer parts and software before going to find Harley.

  When she got back to the office she found Mr. Arthurs tied to his desk like a sacrifice. She tried very hard not to laugh at the slightly panicked look on his face. His right eye was bruising where she suspected Harley had punched him.

  “I hope you aren’t being too rough with our esteemed client,” she said as she pulled her crop out. “I swear I can’t leave you alone for five minutes.”

  “I hope you’re not as rough as this crazy bitch,” he said and struggled against his bonds. The crop slapped across his cheek as soon as the words left his mouth. He yelped in surprise.

  “Please refrain from using that kind of language about my girlfriend,” Fox chastised as she sidled up and wrapped an arm around Harley’s waist.

  “She’s your girlfriend?” he said suddenly interested.

  “Yes. I was under the impression you liked it rough,” Fox replied as she looked down on him.

  “I do! I just didn’t expect to get punched in the face for grabbing her ass.”

  “He grabbed your ass, baby?”

  “Yes, and he didn’t know how to do it properly so he got punished,” Harley said petulantly.

  “Sounds like you deserved it, Mr.
Arthurs.”

  “I’m sorry, baby, how about you show me how it was meant to be done?” he said smoothly. Without hesitation, Fox slipped her hands down the vinyl dress, cupped Harley gently and pulled her close.

  “You have to be a little bit nice while you’re being naughty,” Harley played along. Fox was going to burst out laughing any second. “You know what? I don’t think this one can handle us both together.” Harley broke away from Fox’s embrace and walked slowly around the desk.

  “I’m sure I could,” he protested.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I think you would pass out from excitement.” Harley traced her fingers down his arm to his neck. Fox saw her hit the pressure point and Mr. Arthurs’ eyes rolled into the back of his head.

  “See? Told ya.”

  “That was a bit mean,” Fox said as she picked up Harley’s bag of tricks.

  “Did you get what you needed?”

  “Sure did, by the time I get home we are going to be live.”

  “Excellent, I’m coming. I need to get seriously drunk to wash this shit away.”

  “So much for your adventurous spirit. Do you think we should untie him?” They both looked down at the pathetic specimen before them.

  “Nah.”

  Chapter Fourteen- The Art of Confession

  Aleksandra approached Matthias Church with butterflies in her stomach. It was midnight and the church was empty. She nervously readjusted the chocolate suede and gold embroidered gloves that Cerise had bought her. It had taken her an hour to get dressed in her black jeans, top, boots and the long jacket that matched her gloves. A part of her was procrastinating, the other part wanting to be presented meticulously. She had even carefully applied makeup, something she hadn’t worn in years.

  It had been over a week since the incident with Silvian. Her hands had healed but were scarred. She was still having her visions frequently and after she woke, her hands would be tingling and burning.

  The church was lit softly by beeswax candles and incense burned on the altar. She took off her rosary and sat down in one of the pews. She hadn’t been to an actual church in a long time. There was a comfort in the familiarity as she quietly said her prayers, moving through the beads one at a time. She prayed that should she come face to face with Mychal that she wouldn’t be intimidated. She imagined Mychal, full of furious anger, tossing her out onto the street. There was no sign of anyone. She got up and entered the confessional box in the hope that someone would still be in there.

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” she said. She heard a rustle of clothing before a quiet, husky voice answered.

  “Tell me your sins.”

  “I have had great loss recently and I’m angry at God and others because of it.”

  “Is your circumstances the result of you sticking your nose into other people’s business?” Aleksandra was taken back by his bluntness but chose to ignore it.

  “No, I have had no choice in it. I have a psychic gift and I cannot control what I see. Do you know of a man named Mychal that lives here, Father?”

  “What business do you have with him?”

  “I only wish to talk to him. He is in my visions. I want to know why God has chosen me to witness his life.”

  “Perhaps he is punishing you.”

  “I have done nothing to deserve the visions or Mychal’s complete dismissal of me.”

  “You have to understand that he is not used to company outside of the church. He hunts and kills, that is his only duty.”

  “It may be his duty but that is not who he is. I need to find out why my gift has focused on him, and the only way I can do that is to speak with him.”

  “He may be refusing for your own good. You know what hunts him.”

  “He cannot put me in any more danger than what I already am. I’m demon marked now, the same as him. They will come for me eventually. I saved Mychal from being killed and now the demons want me dead.”

  “You should not have saved him. It could have been his time to die. He is tired and he wants to die.”

  “I don’t care if he is tired. He isn’t going to die on my watch. If I see him about to be ambushed I’m going to warn him no matter the cost.”

  “You have already been burnt and marked doing that. Do you think that the demons won’t do worse if you help him again?” Aleksandra’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t told him that she had been burnt.

  “I will still help him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the world needs people like him.”

  “You don’t even know him.”

  “I know enough.”

  “I think it’s a good thing he keeps his distance from you. You’re going to distract him from his true calling.”

  “Just because he is very good at killing demons doesn’t mean that that is the extent of his calling.”

  “How would you know? You are not a priest.”

  “Neither are you.” Aleksandra rushed out of her side of the box and pulled the priest’s door open. Mychal’s hand was still reaching for the handle.

  “You…you…”Aleksandra stammered. Then she hit him across the face as hard as she could. His head didn’t move so she hit him again and again. He snatched her wrists together and pushed her firmly down to sit on one of the pews.

  “Let me go!” she said as she struggled

  “Well, stop hitting me! You wanted to talk to me so badly. Now is your chance.” He let her hands go and sat down away from her. He had the same angry expression he had last time she saw him. He gave her a hundred percent of his attention and now she struggled to remember what to say.

  “I’m sorry for hitting you.”

  “No you’re not. Though it probably hurt your hands more than my face,” he said, “How are your hands by the way?” Aleksandra tucked them underneath her coat self-consciously. He reached over and brought them back out again. “Don’t do that. I know they are burnt. You don’t have to hide them. It’s not as if I can see through gloves anyway.” He ran his fingers along the suede to emphasise his point. Aleksandra didn’t reply, the feel of his fingers through the gloves had thrown her concentration. He dropped his hand away quickly.

  “I…I need to know how we are connected,” she managed.

  “I don’t know who you are. I have never seen or heard of you before.”

  “Isabelle said that you have gypsy blood in you. What tribe are you from?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t remember my childhood.”

  “I could…I could touch you and find out,” she suggested before she could second guess herself.

  “I don’t want you in my head,” Mychal said firmly.

  “Why? Because your life is so private? I dream of you every night. Do you have any idea what that is like?” Anger and resentment was rushing through her.

  “If I let you do this, will you go away and never harass me again? He asked bluntly.

  Aleksandra drew back as if slapped.

  “If that is what you wish,” she replied, “but I will still try to warn you if you are in danger.”

  “I am always in danger.”

  “Well, get used to me warning you.” Aleksandra folded her arms stubbornly.

  “Fine! Do your witch’s trick and leave me alone.”

  “I need permission to touch your face,” she said slowly, “without my gloves on. If it’s going to disturb you, then shut your eyes.”

  “I would be a hypocrite if scars bothered me.”

  “They aren’t tattooed over like yours.”

  “Great, so you have seen that too,” he muttered. Mychal moved closer to her and hunched down so she could reach his face. She pulled her gloves off slowly. He kept his eyes on her, not glancing down once to look at the shiny textured mess of her hands. They were shaking as she put her thumbs in front of his ears and buried her fingers into his hair. It was warm and thick with curls. Shutting her eyes wasn’t a necessity but if Aleksandra kept them open
and saw who she was touching she would lose her nerve.

  Mychal’s mind was a horrific mess. Images of blood, battle and demons fighting him in human and true form ran rampart. There were flashes of the aftermath, of the multiple stitches, bruises, broken bones and pain. Aleksandra struggled through and found the memory of the night he was found. She felt the demon’s claws ripping into her flesh and she pulled herself out of it quickly. A flash of a gypsy caravan caught her inner eye and she grasped for it. It was slippery but she managed to hold on.

  There was a man yelling at a woman for being unfaithful and hitting her repeatedly in the face. Mychal being thrown out of a caravan, a bracelet of bright ribbons tied around his wrist. He remembered the dancing and the little girl who had given it to him. That was a memory he cherished.

  The memory slipped from her and images of blood and pain flooded her. She pulled herself out of the mire of his mind and back into her body. When she came to, she felt a light touch padding her tears away. She kept her eyes shut tight, afraid to open them and see the look on his face.

  “Aleksandra? Are you back in there yet?” Mychal asked, his voice remarkably gentle. She opened her eyes a little, as he dried her tears with the sleeve of his black shirt. He stopped when he saw her looking at him. Very slowly, she pulled her hands out of his hair.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Mychal was so close that she could feel the heat off his body. Her heart started pounding as anxiety rushed through her.

  “I think so,” she swallowed nervously.

  “Tell me.”

  “Do you still have the ribbon bracelet?” His face went through a hundred small changes before going blank.

  “What does the bracelet have to do with anything?”

  “Don’t you see? That’s how I know you,” she whispered. “I gave it to you at Midsummer.” Mychal processed this, and then tried to use his arms and legs to wriggle back from her and stand up quickly. Aleksandra got to her feet to try to block his way.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I have to get out of here.”