Secrets in Phoenix Page 16

  I gazed up at the interlacing tree. “It’s beautiful,” I said quietly.

  “A part of me was missing for so long. And then somehow you came along and gave it back to me.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

  I looked into his eyes. “Why me?” I whispered. “What made you speak to me, and not to them, after two years?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered diffidently. “I just… wanted to.”

  “And now you don’t want to anymore?”

  “No,” he murmured. “Now I want to too much. I’m scared I’ll slip up. I’m scared I’ll hurt you.”

  I shivered at his comment.

  “So, you’ve seen one side of me,” he said, exhaling slowly. “You’ve seen who I am, and I’ve told you everything. But you need to see the rest.” He strode through the woodland, honing in on a large oak tree.

  “Stand back,” he said.

  I stood a short distance away, watching as Jaxon took a quick swing at the trunk, as though he were casually swatting a fly. The bark exploded into a cloud of dust and woodchip. I covered my eyes, and when I dared to look back, the tree trunk boasted a dent the size of a beach ball. Jaxon had dented it, with nothing more than the flick of a wrist.

  Jaxon dusted off his hands, having not even broken a sweat.

  “That’s the other me,” he said. “That’s the me you should be afraid of.”

  I swallowed. “I’m not afraid.”

  “I know,” he replied. “And that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Out of Sight

  A week went by with no further Divellion sightings. However, Ness insisted that we stay at Averett Academy until we could be absolutely sure that the threat had passed. She urged us to stay inside the manor at all times, constantly reminding us that if Divellions were on our scent, they’d be looking for any opportunity to isolate the weakest.

  One guess who they all thought the weakest was.

  Me.

  On top of everything else, Ness did her utmost to keep me away from Jaxon. The woman was relentless, and she went to any lengths possible—including scheduling my lessons in her office. Just me, Ness, and an ancient algebra book.

  Although, it wasn’t as if Jaxon fought particularly hard against it. On the rare occasion we did bump into each other, he was careful around me. Never getting too close. Never letting me get too close.

  I hated him for it.

  And I liked him for it, all at the same time.

  As for Sam and Todd, they were as fed up with the Academy as I was—but for very different reasons.

  It was on a particularly cold Wednesday morning that Sam came storming into our bedroom, slamming the heavy door behind him.

  “I’m leaving,” he stated.

  I sighed. “You say that every day.”

  Sam pounded his fist against the dark wall, rattling the glass casing on a wall-mounted oil lamp. “But I mean it this time,” he swore. “I’m sick of this place. I’m sick of all the jumped-up planks thinking they own the world. Calling themselves phoenixes, like we’re meant to bow down before them.” He rolled his hand in circles and mimed an elaborate bow.

  Todd turned down the page of the book he’d been reading and placed it on the camp bed where he was sitting. “We can’t leave. Not until Ness says so.”

  Sam scowled at him. “I don’t give a damn what Ness says. I’m out.”

  “Don’t go, Sam,” I implored him. “It can’t be much longer.”

  He snorted. “If we wait around for Ness, then we’ll never get out of this dump. She’s happy here with her boyfriend.”

  I frowned. “Her boyfriend?”

  He waved his hand impatiently. “You know, that guy she’s always knocking about with. Whatshisname. Tufty hair.”

  Tufty hair? I mused. Surely he doesn’t mean…

  “Mr. Garret?” I said. “He’s not Ness’s boyfriend.” Perish the thought!

  “Well, he might as well be,” Sam scoffed. “They’re both in on it. Keeping us here in lock-down, all so they can shack up together. Selfish is what it is.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Sam shrugged. “Anyway, I’m outta here.”

  “Where will you go?” I asked.

  “Back to the cottage, where my clothes are. I’ve had it with recycling the same two T-shirts on a loop.”

  Todd laced his fingers together. “But when they find out you’ve gone, they’ll just bring you back again.”

  Sam groaned. “Todd, I don’t care. I just want to get out of here now. Right now. Come, don’t come, whatever.”

  Uh oh. I had a feeling that I was going to say something that I might later regret.

  “If you go, we all go.” Yep. There they were. Regrettable words in all their glory.

  Camaraderie in the air, Todd rose to his feet. “Come on, then,” he said wearily.

  Sam smiled at us, and I half expected him to say something sarcastic.

  Instead, he simply nodded and said, “Thank you.”

  #

  I had to admit that even with the bite in the air, it felt good to be outside. I’d spent far too long cooped up at the Academy. And, for the first time since moving to Phoenix Holt, the route to the cottage began to look familiar. At last, my homing instinct was kicking in.

  Home. I’d done it again—called the cottage ‘home’. I guess that’s the funny thing about time, I thought. It had the wonderful ability heal all wounds. And it had somehow blurred the lines I’d set between Port Dalton and Phoenix Holt in such a way that I hadn’t even noticed it happening. Just a short while ago, I had refused to allow Phoenix Holt to be anything other than a stop gap—a temporary hiatus until I could escape. And now, as I trudged through the woodland towards the cottage, I was gripped by the strong sensation of heading home.

  As I reflected over the changes that had come to pass, I let the fresh air flow in and out of my lungs—the taste of freedom.

  Just ahead of me Sam took off, pelting down the wooded slope towards the cottage.

  Todd raced after him.

  I felt a rush of gratitude when I caught sight of the little stone cottage. Yes, it was finally home. We were finally home.

  “Door’s open!” I heard Sam declare. He was already inside the cottage by the time I’d reached level ground.

  I hurried inside after my brothers. We’d made it to sanctuary.

  Todd and I collapsed onto the sofa. I sank into the cushions, relishing the marshmallow softness.

  The sound of clattering came from the kitchen, followed by Sam’s whoops of delight. He began singing to himself, loudly and out of tune.

  “Put the eggs in the pan, shooba-da-wap-wap… Todd, get in here!” he hollered between verses.

  When Todd didn’t respond immediately, Sam bellowed again, “Todd, get in here! Da-da-da-da-da wap-wap-whooo…”

  Todd heaved himself off the sofa and loped to the kitchen.

  Alone, I spread out across the cushions. I gazed into the fireplace, where the phoenix’s wings spanned across the chimney wall, guarding the entrance to the secret stairwell.

  In front of the fireplace, the rug was patterned with strips of sunlight dancing in through the criss-crossed window pane. I traced the shaft of light back to the little window. On its ledge stood an arrangement of colourful candles and framed photographs.

  I’d never really paid much attention to the photos on the windowsill—not up close, anyhow. But at that moment, my curiosity got the better of me. I rose to my feet and ambled to the sill.

  I picked up the first frame; it was pink and faded from years of sunlight. Three people smiled back at me. I spotted my grandfather at once. He was as I remembered him, but much younger—in his late twenties perhaps. He stood with a curly haired girl who couldn’t have been much older than me, and a middle-aged woman with dark hair and a kindly face.

  Ness and Sulinda, I guessed. Seeing Ness in her youth gave me a whole new insight into the family resemblance betwee
n us.

  I smiled down at the photograph for a while before replacing it and moving on to the next one.

  The second frame was purple, and oval in shape. A man stared back at me from behind the framed glass. For a second, I was taken aback. The man in the picture was Sam. Not Todd, but Sam, mirrored in the way he stood and the look in his golden eyes. And yet the man was older, captured in a different lifetime.

  “Sam!” I called.

  “What?” his voice came back to me.

  “Could you come in here for a second?”

  I heard the pound of feet before Sam materialised in the den. In his clutches he held a bulky wooden crossbow.

  “Check this out!” he exclaimed.

  I ducked instinctively. “Aim it at the floor! At the floor!”

  “It is aimed at the floor,” he said, idly swinging the contraption from left to right.

  I edged out of its line of fire. “Look at this,” I beckoned to him.

  He sauntered across the room and took the oval frame from my hands.

  “Oh,” he said, his voice softening.

  “It’s you,” I laughed. “Isn’t it?”

  He smiled, quite beautifully, and I was suddenly able to see a glimpse of the man that he would one day become.

  “That’s not me,” he said pensively. “It’s our dad.”

  It was a good thing I hadn’t been holding the photo, because I probably would have dropped it.

  “Dad?” I said.

  “Dad,” he replied.

  I liked the way the word sounded.

  “Dad,” I said again.

  “Dad,” Sam replied.

  #

  It was well into the afternoon before our time at the cottage was interrupted. At the time, Sam was settled in the den, attempting to decipher the crossbow. Todd and I were seated at the kitchen table, picking at the last of our lunch.

  “Ough!” I heard Sam wail from the other room.

  I jumped, startled.

  We’ll never find a hospital, I thought, assuming the worst. If he’s shot himself, I’ll have to stitch him up with a needle and thread. He’s not going to like it, though.

  “Todd,” I said, “get the frozen peas, and rip up some sheets—”

  “That smell,” Sam gagged. “That is foul! What is it?”

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  “What is that?” Sam carped.

  I couldn’t smell anything, apart from the vague scent of lavender lingering in the air.

  “Ugh,” Sam groaned. “It’s getting worse.”

  It must be something in the den, I presumed.

  “Bleuch!” Sam kept on. “It’s so bad. My eyes are watering.”

  “It’s probably you,” I yelled back.

  He appeared in the den archway, crossbow tucked beneath his arm and a look of revulsion on his face.

  “It’s not me,” he griped.

  I was about to disagree when the front door burst open. And burst is precisely what it did. As in, it flew right off its hinges, crashing at the foot of the staircase.

  I shrank back, shielding my eyes from the airborne splinters.

  Then came a sound that made my blood run cold. A hiss—the kind I’d only heard once before. In a dream.

  Divellions.

  Two of them.

  I scrambled up from my seat.

  The things slunk into our hallway. Their skin was leathery and red, and looked burned. Sharp, rotten teeth hung from their jaws, dripping with saliva.

  One of the Divellions cricked its neck towards me. Its top lip curled back and it let out a wild hiss.

  There was a brief instant when time stood still. I met Sam’s eyes from across the hall.

  “Run,” he mouthed.

  I couldn’t.

  But it was too late for running, anyway. The Divellions had crossed the threshold and were inside the cottage.

  Todd and I backed into the kitchen, clambering for pots and pans—anything we could use as a weapon.

  Across the hall, I saw Sam fumbling to lock the crossbow into place. His hands quaked, and the arrow slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor with a clatter.

  I looked around for anything—anything—I could use to protect myself.

  A toaster… A flower pot… A spatula…

  Wait. The flower pot.

  I dived for the windowsill and yanked a handful of purple orchids out of their pot. Soil and water dripped from there stems.

  Please be right, I willed. My memory was hazy, but I recalled something I’d come across before, when I’d been skimming through the spell book with Sam. Weren’t orchids the flower used to temporarily blind an opponent?

  How does that spell go again? I racked my brain, envisioning the yellowed pages of the book and the faded text.

  I can do this, I told myself.

  I crushed the petals in my hand. “See no evil,” I whispered before throwing the flower mulch at the beasts.

  To my amazement and relief, the Divellions hesitated. They were still hissing, but disorientated now.

  Had it worked? Had I really blinded them?

  I didn’t dare take a breath.

  And then I heard Sam reel off a few choice words, followed by that detrimental statement, “I’m blind!”

  Uh oh.

  Todd let out a strangled howl. “My eyes! I can’t see anything!” He tried to run and collided head first into the fridge.

  I could hear Sam crashing about in the den. “Argh! I’m blind! I’m blind!”

  Oops.

  “It’s only temporary!” I told them hastily. “Sorry.”

  The Divellions stooped to the floor, inhaling the scent around them.

  “You blinded me?” Sam yelled. “Of all the times to blind me!”

  “I didn’t mean to! I was trying to blind the… things. It worked, by the way.”

  “Oh, ya think?” Sam cried.

  Todd flapped his arms, bumping into cabinets and chairs.

  I grabbed hold of him and shoved him under the kitchen table. He nursed the toaster he held in his embrace.

  “Stay there,” I instructed.

  “Where am I?” he yelped.

  “You’re under the kitchen table. With the toaster.”

  One of the Divellions rose to its full height, staring directly at me through its sightless red eyes.

  I staggered backwards, inadvertently boxing myself against the sink unit. I couldn’t escape. I was trapped.

  So this is it, I thought hopelessly. This is how it all ends for me. Squashed against a pile of dirty dishes.

  I glanced at Todd and the toaster, cowering under the table. And then Sam, spinning in circles beneath the den’s archway. One Divellion crawled across the hallway floor, hissing and spitting, while the other steadily made its way towards me.

  I had no way out. No defence. Just me, and a room full of blind things.

  Any last words?

  “Sam, tell me where you hid my diary.”

  “Why?” he wailed. “Am I going to die?”

  “No, I am!”

  With that, a metal-tipped arrow shot past my face, pinging against the sink.

  “For crying out loud, Sam!” I exclaimed.

  “Did I get it?” he asked.

  “No, but you almost got me!”

  “Okay, okay. No need to shout. I’m blind, not deaf. And we all know who we have to thank for that,” he muttered under his breath.

  “I said I was sorry!”

  “Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t bring my sight back.”

  “It’s only temporary,” I huffed. “Not like, oh, I don’t know, death.”

  The Divellion cocked its head, its mouth frothing in anticipation. I noticed its eyes were edged with green markings, almost snake-like. It slithered closer until it was near enough for me to smell the foul stench of its breath.

  I recoiled until I was practically in the sink.

  Another arrow skimmed past my head, ruffling my hair as it went.

  �
�For god’s sake, Sam!” I screeched. “Stop shooting at me!”

  “I can’t help it! I’m blind!”

  “What’s happening?” Todd yowled from under the table. “Who’s attacking who?”

  “Everyone’s attacking me,” I reported back.

  Todd placed the toaster on the floor. “Don’t worry, Sophie. I’m coming. I’ll save you.” He began clambering through the table legs.

  Oh, jeeze.

  “Todd, stay where you are,” I ordered.

  Another arrow whizzed past my head.

  “Did I get it?” Sam called.

  “No!” I screamed. “Stop shooting that thing!”

  The green-eyed Divellion let out a feral snarl.

  This is it, I thought desolately. Goodbye cruel world.

  As I submitted to the idea of my untimely demise, one thing I hadn’t accounted for was a hero. For a moment, I thought he was an illusion. Kind of like a mirage of water when a person’s dying of thirst.

  But no, it was real. Jaxon was there.

  Startled by the intruder, the green-eyed Divellion backed away from me.

  My first instinct was to get to Jaxon. I ducked past the creature and made for the hallway.

  “Run!” I shouted to whoever would listen.

  Nobody listened.

  In the hallway, the second Divellion was lurking. Jaxon grabbed it from behind and, to my utter disbelief, snapped its neck with his bare hands.

  The beast slumped to the floor, lifeless.

  I cried out in shock.

  “What happened?” Sam shouted. “What happened?” He tripped over his own feet and fell backward into the fireplace. “Whaa!”

  I was lost for words. I stared at Jaxon, dumbfounded. He had killed a Divellion… with his hands.

  His raven black eyes darted around the cottage.

  “Jaxon,” I murmured.

  He looked straight through me, as though I were made of glass—and considering how close to shattering I was right then, I may as well have been.

  In a sudden flurry, the green-eyed Divellion bounded past me, almost knocking me down as it sped out the front door.

  Jaxon’s focus shot to the kitchen.

  I followed his gaze, only to be greeted with the sight of Todd lying motionless on the floor.

  The world seemed to freeze for a second. “Todd?”