Phoenix

By Melissa Starr

Elora Rae Gannon believes her life is over. On her sixteenth birthday, she receives news that she is a mythical monster of hellish proportions and if that’s not bad enough, she receives this information in the form of a letter from her dead mother who also informs her that she must become part of an elite secret society of others like herself or die. Sucky birthday, huh? And just when she thinks she’s got it all figured out, her new-found family in the Elite forces her to break ties with her human BFF shortly before her BFF just up and vanishes. With her world in utter upheaval, Elora makes the move to a new school—Marlind Prep, with full intentions of finding out exactly what is going on behind the scenes and why her best friend has vanished- all while trying to figure out how to successfully make out with her boyfriend without sucking the very life out of him!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melange Books, LLC
• Release date: Jan 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781612354118

Melissa Starr

Melissa Starr resides in Oklahoma with her husband and children where she frequently lets her inner child come out and play long enough to spin colorful words into novels.

Book preview

Preface

When you’re gazing into the eyes of hell, you think you would tremble with fear, not melt into them with a burning hunger and desire. But I was doing just that and I knew it. His hold on my waist was firm and I could feel my soul shrieking danger! I did not heed its warning. I held on, mesmerized by those umber browns, knowing I would forever be their prisoner.

Isaac gripped my shoulders, nails digging in almost painfully; he pulled me closer still and met my lips with his. Intoxicated by his kiss, I ignored the illusory flames licking at my ankles. His mouth was warm and venomously sweet on mine, not at all the way you think a spawn of darkness’s would be. I opened my own eyes, fixed them on his strong, toasted-almond bone structure and drunk him in like cheap wine until I was delirious with confusion.

Fluttering wings to my left caused my brow to furrow. They reminded me of something---another set of wings the color of skittles with a sheer iridescence like that of a shimmering opal stone beneath a summer sun. Wings that belonged to a unique group of persons who had battled for millenniums against everything I was embracing within my trembling arms at that moment. Isaac was so handsome…so strong…so alluring...so...

Then I realized they were not the wings of a Phoenix (my own lay folded within a thin membrane of flesh just above my Mark of Uroboros), but of a Ruhk. A Ruhk was believed to be the son of Set or Seth, half man, half god and all-together the epiphany of evil sent to rid the Earth of my kind, of our father, Amun Re’s kind. Blood red feathers like silk wrapped around my body. My heart stopped.

You belong to me, Elora.

Chapter One

~ Elora ~

Would it be arrogant of me to say I’ve known I was special since birth? My father has certainly drilled it into my head since I was old enough to say daddy. But what father hasn’t, right? As I grew older my friends would catch my dad using the S word, gag, and make special Ed remarks complete with air signed quotations behind his back just for fits and giggles (No disrespect to the disabled in any way but my friends just didn’t see what was so special about me and neither did I.) As I’ve said before, I’ve known I was special since birth, to my Pops at the very least but I never really felt special- -until I turned sixteen.

Yes, I know it’s a bit cliché; it seems many remarkable stories are contrived at this milestone in one’s life, turning sixteen, coming into one’s own but hey, who am I to argue with fate? Fate can be pretty dang cruel sometimes...

Have you ever really gotten a good look at the center part of your back-well, enough to tell if you have a birthmark, freckle, or maybe even a big, ugly mole painting your outer layer? I haven’t and maybe that makes me the strange one, but exactly one year ago, to date, my father started making me cover my back and like a dummy, I wasn’t the least bit curious about it. He said I couldn't wear a bikini without a covering of some sort and no low backed clothing or midriffs.

Most girls would have thrown a witch-fit. But not me, I just thought Dad was being, well---a dad. Looking back now, I knew it went much deeper than that. I saw it in his eyes all along but chose to ignore it. At any rate, that was one year ago.

Today was my sixteenth birthday. I felt unusually emotional when I rolled out of bed just as my faithful alarm was buzzing its little brains out across my nightstand. And upon leaving my nice, warm bed, I smacked my head, hard on the nightstand and sent my emerald colored, hand blown glass lamp shattering in like a gazillion pieces to the floor. Way to go, grace. I grabbed at the alarm in the pitch-blackness of the room and chunked it against the opposite wall. It buzzed no more. Anger issues? I think not.

I flailed my legs out in front of me and lay the back of my messy head lightly against the bed as I rubbed my sore temple. A welt formed beneath my fingertips and long, chocolate tresses, causing me to wince. Great. Just great. I jumped as a knock at my bedroom door breached the silence. I glanced in the direction of the closed door. The room didn’t seem to be spinning so that was a plus.

Elora, you okay? My dad murmured, almost inaudibly into the back of the door. Sounded like we were being robbed or something. I detected a bit of sarcastic humor in his voice.

I’m fine. I just fell out of bed’s all. I crinkled my nose and added, but I’m gonna need another new lamp.

Now, if someone ever got the feeling this was a recurring event, he’d be right. I’ve broken more lamps than I can count on both hands in the last few years.

Figures. Look, I have to head in to work. Breakfast is waiting for you down stairs. By breakfast, he meant a cherry Pop Tart and a glass of Sunny D, the breakfast of champions for latchkey kids like me all over the world.

Love you, baby.

Love you, too, I mumbled getting to my feet.

I listened as Sam Gannon turned on his heels and started back down the stairs.

Well, hap-py-birth-day-to-me. I sighed and sulked carefully over to the light switch, avoiding shards of broken lamp littering the floor in the darkness. I flicked on the overhead then began to rummage through my closet for something to wear. (I’d clean up my mess later.)

I knew it was cold out because the hardwood floor had chilled my poor toes to the brink of frostbite in a manner of seconds. Okay, so that was a slight exaggeration but it was cold. I puffed out a breath of air just to see if I could see my breath as I had done many times as a child playing outdoors during winter months and…nope, I’d exaggerated. It wasn’t nearly as cold as I thought.

I grabbed a pair of fuzzy, pink toe socks from the top drawer of my dresser and crammed my freezing digits inside them. Like-a-glove, I said in my best imitation of the great Jim Carry. I felt better already. I threw on my fav black-on-black, Linkin Park/Catalyst t-shirt, a thick, black, fleece-lined hoodie and a pair of jeans then started down the stairs. I could smell wood burning in the fireplace as I neared the landing.

Well, at least he made a fire before he left me all alone on my birthday, again, I grumbled along with my empty tummy.

The kitchen wasn’t nearly as frosty as the bedroom had been, but I flicked the central heat up a few notches anyway.

I found my usual pastry and juice just where I knew it would be at my end of the deserted table and bit in. I was just about to remark to my inner and pouting child on today being no different from any other day of the year when I noticed two envelopes lying face up on the surface of our antique, butcher’s block table. The envelopes called out my name from the scrawling on the first one and the elegant scripting inked in the center of the other.

Elora Rae Gannon

Curious, I picked up the first one and flipped it over. It was from my father, Sam Gannon. I slid the next one toward me and turned it over. The blood in my veins suddenly turn to ice water, my skin was sheeted with duck bumps so thick I thought I might hear them quack any second (You know the kind you get when you swear that someone is walking over your future grave?) as I traced the writing on the back of the envelope. It was simple and to the point.

All my love, Mom

I frantically gulped at the air escaping my lungs as salty, wet droplets filled my eyes. It was from my mother, Avril Elora Gannon.

No f-ing way, I whispered. Mom had been gone for sixteen years today, November 17. She’d died giving me life. But here it was nevertheless, an envelope addressed to me from my mother. I decided to leave it for last. I picked up Dad’s envelope and slid the back of it open with no effort. It wasn’t sealed. No big surprise. I knew how much Dad hated licking envelopes; he had always put me up to the nasty-tasting task. I smiled. I knew he’d be here if he could. He worked his butt off for me and I in no way wanted him or anyone else to get the idea that I was not grateful for it. I totally am. I just wanted him to be home for one day, this day.

I pulled out a card with the cutest little bear on its facing. Leave it to my dad to think I was still, like, nine years old. My heart flooded with warmth at the sight of it anyway. I opened it up and another bear, black and fuzzy this time sprung forward with a mushy, little phrase that ended with wishing me a Happy Birthday and Many More! followed by a paragraph in my father’s hen-scratch. I call it hen-scratch because if you weren’t used to his penmanship you could barely make out more than a legible letter here and there. And if you knew anything about chickens and the way they scratched at the earth for seed you’d completely understand the comparison. Thank God, I had learned the art of Sam Gannon decoding a long time ago. It began:

My Dearest Elora,

Happy birthday, my baby girl! I wish with all my heart that I could spend more time with you. If your mother were here, you would not be so lonely. You know I’m not good with words so I’ll get right down to it. As you know, your mother died when you were born, but she loved you very much. Before you were born, she used to sing lullabies to you until you would settle down inside her womb. She had such a remarkable voice. You are so very much like her its hurts sometimes, which is why I must tell you this. In the second envelope is a letter along with a sealed vial on a delicate chain of white gold. Both are from your mother and are enormously important. She will go into more detail than I can, so I will leave you with this… I love you and I wish you the most wonderful birthday ever! And I will do my best to make it home early to celebrate.

Always,

Dad

I folded the note, stuffed it back into the envelope and reached for Mom’s letter. It was slightly longer and heavier than Dad’s envelope had been and I could feel the chain through the paper. I hesitated when a thought occurred to me; Dad had kept this package in his possession for sixteen years, most likely locked away in his safety deposit box at the local bank. I couldn’t believe it. What would she say? Would she tell me how much she loved me? Would she tell me she knew she would die and that is why she had written the letter? How could she have known she would die? I took a deep breath, realizing I was over-processing something that was probably nothing more than a happy birthday from mother to daughter from beyond the grave. I shuddered again and tore it open on one end, causing an intricately webbed chain to slide from the envelope followed by a tiny, tear-shaped, amber colored vial filled with a crimson tinted liquid attached at the center of the chain. Blood? Okay imagination, get-it-in-check. I turned the vial gently between my index finger and thumb. The chain slithered across my hand in the rotation and I noted the liquid was thick and did have the consistency of blood.

Okay, self, as pretty as it is, it’s still creepy. I lay it out next to Dad’s envelope and pulled out Mom’s letter. I took a deep breath and imagined what I knew of my mother from photographs with her long, mahogany hair cascading around her shoulders and Caribbean-blue eyes shining brightly at me as she read the letter in her own melodious voice. Her eyes would be kind and motherly as she embraced me with just a look.

For Elora,

Hello, my darling, little Elora. I suppose by now you’re not so little, are you? I wanted so much to tell you in person, happy sixteenth birthday! You only turn sixteen once in your life and it’s of the utmost importance that a young woman have a mother to guide her into adulthood.

A tear slid down my hot cheek as I continued to read.

I ask your forgiveness that I cannot do this personally. And if I know your father, he has not remarried so there is no woman in the household save you. I can just imagine how lovely you are now. I believe your father has probably done more than his share of instilling in you how very special you are and will become, but it is left to me to tell you why. I am sure that you are aware of the exclusive club or society of Phoenixes who exist all over the globe and have for centuries. As you may also know, Phoenixes are a chosen group of individuals who join up at the age of sixteen and become part of one of the most elite groups ever in existence, the Phoenix Elite. You, my dear, are a Phoenix. A title for whom only a Phoenix knows of the true meaning and importance.

My brow furrowed. Me...a Phoenix? I knew of the posh, little crowd at our own school and their secretive meetings but scarcely more than that. They were all stunning, clever kids who exuded confidence and strength. I didn’t see myself fitting into their tight knit group. And what about Chloe? Chloe Salas been my best friend since kindergarten. I couldn’t just leave her behind for a new clique. Phoenixes rarely hung with anyone outside their group. A knot formed in my throat. I tried swallowing past it as tears began to build and blur my vision, but it wouldn’t go away. I could feel my creamy skin going all blotchy. I soaked up the moisture from my eyes with the cuff of my hoodie and read on.

I know that you must be feeling overwhelmed right now, but if I am correct, there should be a bruised area just between your shoulder blades and it may still be tender to the touch. This is where a cavity is forming and your annexes will soon emerge. The tenderness of that spot will subside. I’m sure you thought your father was crazy when he started covering you up a year ago, but the truth of the matter is people can be cruel sometimes. Because of jealousy and fear, many Phoenixes have suffered ridicule and even death at the hands of those who do not understand us. I say 'us' because I am also a Phoenix.

With most humans who show signs of becoming a Phoenix, the soreness and bruising between the shoulder blades disappears by his or her sixteenth birthday and they continue with their normal, average lives. With others, the fire is stronger in their veins and the individual begins to mature into the superhuman known as the Phoenix. Along with it come abilities, many of which are unique. When you take your place and Oath with the Phoenix Elite, you will develop a mark at the base of your spine just above your bottom, a brand or tattoo, if you will. I suppose some would call it a tramp stamp and I’m sure there are many other names for such marks in that general region. Yours, however...well, it is something you’ve inherited through your very DNA. In ancient days, long before the first Egyptian dynasty, it was coined the Mark of Uroboros and to this day that is still what it is called. Our ancestors adopted this symbol, a snake with its tail grasped firmly in its mouth in a never-ending circle, as a sign of strength and renewal. The ancient Egyptians claimed it was the mark of the gods and that we are in fact sons and daughters of Amun Re. Ancient Egyptians worshipped our kind. But then the time of crusaders came and rumors spread that perhaps we were the offspring of human sinning with immortals and we faced extinction. But the truth of the matter is, god, supernatural human---or not---we’ve always existed since the beginning of time alongside the average human. We answer to the same higher power and bleed the same red blood as those we’ve fought alongside in wars, regardless of whether some of the more fanatic want to admit to it or not. And we’ve had to hide who we are for centuries. Over the last one hundred years, our ancestors have become brazen enough to step forward and take their place in society once again, but we still harbor secrets. Prejudice is ignorance at its finest.

The responsibility that accompanies the Mark of Uroboros is so much more than just having a pretty face or being exceptionally talented, as you will see. The Elite will have called a meeting in your honor and paired you with a senior advisor. He or she will guide you into your new life and tell you all you need to know. I leave you with a word of warning, daughter. Do not trust without knowledge and do not love without truth.

With all my love,

Mom

P.S. Put the chain I’ve enclosed around your neck and never let it fall into anyone’s hands. Not even another Phoenix! It is crucial you do not fail and never break its seal. You are now Keeper of the Vial. My great aunt, another Phoenix, passed it on to me upon my sixteenth birthday. Blessed be you, daughter and happy birthday.

I didn’t have to open the clasp on the chain. It was long enough to slide over my head with ease. I tucked it inside my t-shirt where it settled securely between my breasts. The chain was arctic against my skin but oddly enough, the vial radiated like fire. I whipped it away from my chest. It took a moment for me to become comfortable enough with its heat to leave it against my flesh. Then the heat disappeared altogether.

I sighed. This is without a doubt the strangest birthday to date.

I wiped my eyes once more and slid Mom’s letter back inside the envelope. I lay it on the counter and buried my face in my hands. A Phoenix. Why me? There was a chapter of Phoenixes in every state of the U.S. and other countries as well. The allure surrounding them was just as thick as the secrets that bound them, or so I’d heard. No one knew much about them except that most successful people were Phoenixes and most everyone else wanted to be one. Until today, I’d always thought to be a part of the Elite; a Phoenix had to be handpicked. Apparently, we were born into it instead. Lucky me.

I raised my head at the sound, like chains through gravel and mud, of tires moving across the drive outside the house. My heart lifted. It was probably Chloe coming to wish me a happy birthday. I hoped it was Chloe, anyway. I really could use her shoulder right about now.

I peeked through the daffodil curtains on the kitchen door, of which I was completely sure my dad had not updated since Mom was alive. Dad? I jerked the door open, a grin spreading across my tear stained face. For a moment, I forgot all about the cold.

My father stepped out of his ’98 Acura (he refused to replace it with an updated version) carrying an over-sized, honey-colored teddy bear and a bouquet of giant sunflowers, my favorite. He had only been gone, what, an hour or so? I ran

Reviews for Phoenix

[rebeccagraf · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Melissa Starr begins her series of unique people with the book Phoenix. The story line of this book is very good. It starts with a young girl's 16th birthday where she finds out she is a phoenix. This was a little odd as to how it was explained. It seems that phoenixes are not secret people in the sense that no one knows they exist. In fact, they publicly are a club and meet regularly. The secrecy comes in what happens when they are together and the extent of their powers and abilities. That information is so secret that they will kill to protect it. In fact, best friends are targets. It's all so confusing to a young teen coming into own with more than the average teen problems.Ms. Starr did an excellent job in creating an interesting story and various plots within the book. At times, I felt there was not enough explanation. Maybe it was because I found it strange that phoenixes did not hide themselves completely and were to a degree just accepted. I'm one that asks a lot of questions as I read and like to see them answered. I don't always get my way, of course. Also, there is a very strong sexual undertone to the story between the teens. You need to be aware of that if a younger teen is interested in or even a tween. This more designed for older teens and young adults.It is the first in a series. That's good because a lot was not explained fully in the first book. Obviously, it will come later.Plots and storyline are the strong points of this book that will keep you reading.Like paranormal young adult books? Check this author out and see if you have a new series to follow.Note: This book was provided as part of a virtual book tour with no expectations of a positive review.