Phoenix Rising (Maggie Henning & The Realm Book 1) Read online

  Two lines. Six words, centered and written in the same penmanship as my address had been, were all that was found on the paper.

  It’s all true. Guard the blood.

  “What the hell?” I said aloud as I stared at the words, reading them again as if that would somehow magically make their meaning obvious.

  A honk out front startled me, the sound letting me know that Stephanie had arrived. Shaking my head, I stuffed the weird letter back in its envelope, grabbed my bag, and rushed out the front door, slamming it shut behind me.

  Too late to change the course of destiny, I would later learn the envelope had fallen to the floor and set itself on fire.

  Two

  Stephanie Rolsten was hot, there’s no debating that. With her pretty blue eyes and shoulder-length blonde hair, my best friend was exactly what every teenage girl wanted to look like and who every teenage girl wanted to be. She drove a brand new Toyota Camry—ice blue like her eyes—which was paid off. She only wore clothes that carried a name brand, and had never paid sale price for anything. Considering the money her family had, it wasn’t a surprise.

  Her father had been a great guy before he’d died, and there had been quite a bit of money left behind to care for Stephanie’s mother, brothers, and herself. That hadn’t stopped her mother from touring the country club set to snatch a new man, which she’d found in Brian Anders the third, owner and CEO of Ander’s Lumber.

  Stephanie didn’t care for her stepfather. She complained he spent too much time trying to buy the affections of those around him, instead of actually doing anything. But even through her protests, I knew my bestie really did care about him.

  Sure, Stephanie benefitted from her mother’s remarrying Brian, but you wouldn’t know it from her actions. She was far from a spoiled brat, though looking at her wardrobe as someone who didn’t know her, you’d probably assume that. Steph would prefer to wear ripped-up jeans and a hoodie, and if she could get out of the house dressed like that, she would. Stephanie’s wardrobe came strictly from her mother, Cathy Anders.

  My parents grew up with Cathy and Dan. They’d been best friends their entire lives. My mother used to tell me stories about the crazy things they all did when they were young. A particular favorite of mine was about Cathy car-surfing down Main Street one evening.

  That wasn’t Cathy anymore. Steph’s mom cared what everybody thought now. She donated almost all of their inheritance money when Stephanie’s father died to the local hospital, only keeping enough to pay for food and other needs to get them by for a year. She then promptly bought a new outfit, had her nails done, and headed out husband-hunting. It hadn’t taken Cathy long to find one.

  It was a sore subject for Stephanie. She often complained to me how her mother hadn’t even waited for her father to be cold in the grave before slipping Ander’s ring on her finger.

  When news of my father’s crime broke, Cathy and my mother stopped speaking, and Cathy had forbidden Stephanie to speak to me. She was only permitted now because Brian Anders said it was okay. Cathy wasn’t about to argue with her meal ticket. What Brian said was law in that relationship.

  Shaking off the memories, I made my way down the front path and into Stephanie’s car. She peeled from the curb before my door was even closed.

  “Morning, honey,” Stephanie spoke cheerfully over the latest Pink song. “I see you decided to wear your Sunday’s best for our little trip?”

  I glanced down and took in what Stephanie saw. It wasn’t the torn jeans or the tank top I had on that grabbed her attention. Rather, it was the two different sneakers.

  “Well crap,” I answered, shaking my head. “I had a rough night and didn’t even pay attention when I slipped them on.”

  “Another nightmare?” Steph wondered, concern in her voice. She knew I hadn’t been sleeping lately. I’d been plagued with the oddest nightmares. “You wanna talk about it?” my friend asked, turning down her car radio before glancing over to me.

  “What would be the use? I can’t remember any of it when I wake up,” I responded, flustered.

  “Maybe that’s for the best then? If it was so bad, it’s probably better that you don’t remember?”

  I complained, “Maybe I need a sleeping pill or something?”

  Stephanie laughed. “I could consult the Catherine pharmacy and see what she has lying around?” It was no secret that Cathy Anders had a bathroom cabinet full of prescriptions that probably funded Bayer’s whole research department. I’d asked Steph once why so many prescriptions, but she hadn’t been able to answer.

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

  Stephanie was quiet for a few minutes, giving me time to sort my thoughts. The letter popped into my mind and I decided to run it past Stephanie, see if maybe there was something about it that was familiar to her.

  “Hey, if I told you to ‘guard the blood’ would it mean anything to you?”

  Stephanie drove quietly, pondering my question, before she answered. “Guard the blood, huh? Is it lyrics to some emo song or something?”

  “Not that I know of, just something I read somewhere.”

  “Weird,” Stephanie concluded, putting on her turn signal and entering the mall parking lot. “I would tell you to quit reading before you fall asleep, but we both know you can’t read.”

  I gave Stephanie a gentle elbow as we both giggled at her remark.

  ***

  We strolled around the mall for hours, drifting in and out of different retailers that I couldn’t even begin to afford. We were walking past the cinema and my friend paused, ogling the newest poster featuring her favorite I’m-gonna-marry-that-one actor, when I felt an unexplained coolness climb up my spine. I turned around, momentarily tuning out my friend’s rant about her future husband.

  There was nothing there, but even as I searched around the mall, I had the sensation again. Goosebumps on my arms and the hair on the back of my neck rose, and I was positive that someone was watching me.

  I looked to the music store across from the theater, full of drum kits and pianos with signs that promised anyone could learn to play in six weeks or less, and heard a melody that seemed to beckon for my attention. I wasn’t sure why I moved my feet, but I did.

  “I’ll be right back,” I murmured to Stephanie, walking through the crowd of busy shoppers, following the music.

  I’d never bothered to come to the store before. I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, let alone pick up an instrument and play anything. Why I felt the need to come in and find the source of this melody, I had no idea. It was like my subconscious forced my feet to move, seeking out the harmony.

  I drifted through the crowd of people perusing the store. There were several shelves of sheet music and books of tablature, everything from easy piano songs to the full Led Zeppelin collection. I nonchalantly picked up one called “All You Need to Know about Sax” and began thumbing through it, not actually registering the blur of notes and words contained inside as I tried to blend in.

  I searched for the source of the music, louder now that I’d entered the store. My eyes scanned the area, bobbing side-to-side past long-haired punks in flannel playing strikingly bad riffs on Gibson guitars as I kept the book opened in my palms.

  “Can I help you?” a man asked politely as he approached.

  I jumped, having not noticed him. “Oh … ah,” I stammered. “No, just looking. Thanks.”

  “You play?”

  “Huh?” I replied, confused for a second. The clerk nodded to the book in my hand. I giggled sheepishly, trying to think on my feet to save myself more embarrassment. “I was actually just trying to decide on a guitar, for my brother,” I lied.

  The clerk seemed pleased with his potential commission. “Fantastic! I’m here to help! Does he play bass or six string?”

  “Umm … what?” I asked him. I had no clue about guitars or brothers, as I didn’t actually have one of those, either.

  The clerk smiled, but the gesture didn’t reach his eye
s. He was trying to come across as friendly but now looked more annoyed. He gestured for me to follow him to the back of the store. “I’ll show you what we have.”

  The melody that had drawn me here in the first place had stopped, leaving me feeling disquieted. I followed the clerk, trying to come up with an excuse to leave, when another song began. It was not as plaintive as the first, but just as expertly played, and again, I felt drawn. I found my feet following the salesman toward the origin of the music.

  The clerk, seemingly oblivious to the tune, began pointing out various guitars hanging from pegs on the wall, extolling the virtues of the different strings and body styles. Occasionally, I nodded my head and answered with small grunting noises, not paying attention to him at all, feeling almost desperate to find the source of the song.

  “I’ll let you look around. Let me know if you need any help,” he stabbed at me under his breath when it finally became obvious to him that I wasn’t really interested in purchasing anything.

  I nodded, but didn’t offer him any more acknowledgment. Over the salesman’s shoulder, I’d found the music and the guitar player who’d brought me here.

  Sitting on a stool was a guy strumming over the strings, his fingers moving gracefully up and down the neck. A gentle, easy wave of notes drifted through in the air. He didn’t look up at me or any of the several people who now surrounded him, many of them girls. They giggled whispers between them as they shot sideways glances at the guy playing. If he heard them, he paid no attention. He was completely absorbed in the music he was creating using nothing more than six metal strings and a pick.

  And in no way could I argue with those whispers. He was beautiful, with hair as black as midnight falling in long layers down his back and over his shoulders, the ends of some lying carelessly over the instrument. He wore black jeans and a simple white T-shirt that fit his body as if it were painted on. I could see his biceps twitch when he’d lift the neck of the guitar in time with the song he played.

  A guilty smile crept across my face and I felt my cheeks heat as I blushed. I wasn’t accustomed to thinking of this kind of guy as a dessert, but I had no doubt that he could be the cheesecake to my strawberries. As if he’d heard my thoughts, a wicked smile teased his lips.

  There was a tug on my sleeve that brought me back down to earth. “What the hell are you doing?” Stephanie demanded; her voice held an air of disgust to it.

  “Did you hear him?” I whispered, nodding my head in the guy’s direction, surprised by my friend’s change in tone.

  Not five minutes ago, she’d been all smiles and wistful, planning how many children she was going to have with what’s-his-name actor. Now she seemed pissed.

  “Let’s go.” She tugged painfully on my shoulder, dragging me toward the exit of the store. I almost lost my footing as Stephanie pulled me back into the mall walkway.

  “Ow!” I complained. Her fingers were digging into my arm, and I was sure they would leave a mark. “Let go, Stephanie! I can walk!”

  Stephanie finally released me after we’d moved three stores away from the music shop. She stared coldly at me, her hands on her hips as if to scold a misbehaving child.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked my friend, rubbing the spot on my arm she’d bruised. “That fricking hurt!”

  Stephanie glared briefly before her expression softened. She gave me an apologetic looking smile. “I’m sorry,” she offered, fidgeting with her watch. “It’s just … what if that guy was a serial killer or something?”

  “I wasn’t going to dinner with him, Steph. I heard the music and wanted to see what it was.”

  “I don’t need my best friend dragged in by some siren’s song,” Stephanie teased, attempting humor, but there was a distinct change in her voice, something cold and unfeeling.

  “Come on,” she continued, forcing her words to sound easy and giving me a small shoulder bump, “let’s get some lunch. My treat?”

  Something didn’t feel right as I looked back at Stephanie. Her eyes seemed different and her face looked harder somehow. I wasn’t sure why my little visit to the music store had upset her so.

  I shook it off, blaming it on surprise at the way my friend had acted. I agreed, bumping her back “Sure. I’m feeling famished, suddenly.”

  Stephanie laughed, and I gave her a smile, deciding that maybe my bestie was just hormonal. We’d taken only a few steps in the direction of the food court when I dropped my cell phone while trying to answer a text.

  “Crap!” I exclaimed, stopping to pick it up and silently praying I hadn’t just shattered the screen. As I reached for the device, my hand was met by another.

  My eyes followed up the body. Black boots, tight fitted black jeans, a second skin white T-shirt; the guy from the music store was in front of me, picking up the phone. Slowly I straightened, looking at him. If I had thought he was good looking in the store, I’d seriously underestimated my appraisal.

  Mmm, cheesecake, I helplessly thought again.

  His hair shone, reflecting the fluorescent lights in the mall and displaying subtle blue highlights in his mane I hadn’t noticed prior. His skin was flawless and his body defined, but it was his eyes that drew me in.

  Green, but not just any hazel-like irises. His eyes glistened like a polished emerald, flecked with tiny bits of silver that almost seemed to swim around his pupils.

  “Wow,” I exhaled, not intending to speak aloud. The guy before me smiled as my face flushed thirty shades of red.

  “You dropped this,” he offered, handing me the phone. His voice was as beautiful as the melody he’d been playing. Deeper than I would have thought, given that he appeared to be not much older than me.

  Stephanie answered for me, returning me from my dream-like state while looking at my phone’s rescuer. “Thanks,” she answered flatly. Her voice had taken on the nasty tone she’d had outside the store again. The guy with the raven locks looked past me to my friend. I thought, for just a second, that his pupils had changed a little and that his smile had faltered.

  “Let’s go, Maggie,” she ordered, pulling on my elbow as I took my phone from the guy, smiling my thanks.

  He touched my hand as he passed me the phone, and as quick as lightning, his palm was around my wrist, pulling me to him and away from Steph.

  He was maybe six inches taller than me, so when he bent forward and whispered in my ear, a few locks of his hair fell forward, caressing my cheek and shoulders, sending a shiver up my spine. My breathing hitched for a moment as his words touched my ear.

  “Cheesecake is always better with strawberries,” he softly told me before letting go of my hand and walking away.

  Slack-jawed and unable to move, I watched the mysterious guy disappear into the crowd of shoppers.

  Three

  Stephanie didn’t speak for a while. We’d made our way to the food court, ordering a couple of burgers and fries before finding a small table by the wall of glass overlooking the parking lot. She hadn’t said anything about the guy again, her face locked up tight. Finally, unable to stand the silent treatment any longer, I dropped my greasy sandwich on its wrapper.

  “What the hell was that?” I questioned my friend. Stephanie didn’t look at me and went right on chewing her fries like she hadn’t heard me. “Steph?” I asked again, more threat to my voice then I actually felt. “You wanna let me in on your mood?”

  Rolling her eyes, Stephanie wiped her mouth with one of the paper napkins from the tabletop dispenser and spoke. “Jesus, Maggie. You don’t have any idea who that guy was, do you?” she scolded. I searched my friend’s face and shook my head.

  “Like I said before, he could have been a serial killer or kidnapper. I’m supposed to sit back and watch my BFF get abducted and be okay with it?”

  “He wasn’t going to kidnap me, idiot.” I shrugged her off, picking my burger back up.

  “How do you know that? And you weren’t the least bit creeped out that he seemed to follow you out of the store?
That he took the liberty of grabbing you and muttering in your ear as if he knew you?” she asked forcefully.

  The words he’d whispered lingered in my thoughts, making me feel warm again. “Okay, that was weird,” I conceded. “When I was in the store I was thinking to myself—”

  My words faltered, suddenly too embarrassed to repeat the previous thought even to my bestie. Stephanie glared, waiting for me to finish. I waved a hand, shooing the conversation away. “It isn’t important what I was thinking. I just don’t get it. Why are you so bent out of shape, Steph? You’re forever flirting with hot guys and I stand back. I don’t intrude—”

  “Some hot guy? Hot guy my ass!” Stephanie interrupted. I rolled my eyes and went on before she could let out a tirade.

  “Some guy flirts with me a little bit, and you instantly assume he’s out to abduct me or hurt me. What is it, Stephanie? Am I not good looking enough for a guy to be even remotely interested in me, with exceptions being made for felons?”

  Stephanie cocked her head to the side like a bird examining a worm they planned to devour for breakfast. A blank expression masked her face, like she were stunned into silence by my question. Her eyes shifted to the left, back toward the crowded walkway like she’d heard someone call her name.

  “Let’s go,” Stephanie commanded, pushing her chair back abruptly, hitting the couple sitting behind us.

  “Hey!” one of the diners complained, and Stephanie shot a frosty look back at her. The girl put her hands up in surrender and turned back to her food.

  “Stephanie, I’m still eating,” I whined, not sure what had brought on this sudden change in my bestie. “I know you’re pissed, but—“

  “You don’t want to leave with me?” she interrupted as she shouldered her purse. “Fine! Find your own ride home!” My friend stomped from the booth, leaving me with a fry dangling from my lips.

  “Steph?” I stood, dropping the deep-fried potato product and called out, but she wound her way through the growing lunch mob that filled the court, ignoring me.