Phoenix Burning: Maggie Henning & The Realm, #2

By Lisa C. Morgan

Maggie Henning has learned what she really is--the last of an ancient race of Phoenix. 
She knows who her enemy is--OSSA, the leader of the Revenant Army. 

She had thought the toughest battle fought. 
She only now is learning the road ahead is harder still. 

In the hopes of returning a fallen Realm Prince, Maggie must barter with the Angels for his release. But the path to such a discussion is not an easy one. Traveling with one prince to save the other, Maggie soon learns that there is no black and white in the Realm. That the lines between good and evil, and love and hate, are at best blurry. She will learn a dark secret hidden in the past. One that calls into question everything she thought she felt. 

Even as she tries to determine her fate, Luc also faces his own destiny. Does he reach for what the future promises, or does he deny what's so plainly there before him? 

If the only pain is in denying destiny, do you give in to the agony, or do you burn with it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa C. Morgan
• Release date: Nov 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386265849

Book preview

Prologue

Luc

I

remember reading somewhere, maybe in one of those human newspapers  Liam  was  so  fond  of,  that  a  race  of  ancient  mortals predicted the end of their known existence in the year 2012. A previous calendar or some such device ran out near the mortal’s Yule celebrations. A few determined souls had begun to stock pile supplies— canned meats, jugs of water; some fools even began acquiring pure silver items like eating utensils and random jewelry in hopes of using the items as fodder for trade when the end of days came to pass. As if anyone actually expected to trade something as vital as a fresh orange for a fancy gravy ladle.

Pundits of the upcoming Apocalypse urged folks that The End is Near, prompting religious fanatics to flock to their respective places of worship and the less-than-devout to join the closest and most appealing congregation.

I knew, of course, that the Mayan’s had it wrong. Just like the so-called prophets before them.  The date, time and place—it was all wrong.

At least for me...

My world ended just over a month ago, in a little town in Upstate New York when I’d received a call from my brother Michel, asking to meet him on a nameless stretch of wooded road.

Bring weapons, he’d asked me, and hurry.

Normally, I might have ignored my brother’s plea for help. Michel was a brilliant soldier, adept with a sword and an innate sense for predicting his opponent’s moves, parrying each in a well thought out dance that was deceitful to his enemy, letting them think he’d tired or was unaware, before striking a killing blow. This call was different, however. The tone, the almost begging in his short four word question, piqued my curiosity.

Complying, I followed the energy that Michel had left behind, using it like a beacon to his location. I raced my motorcycle over back roads, pushing it to its limit. I arrived quickly and found my brother walking toward a car parked along the side of road.  His motorcycle, I noticed via the moonlight glistening off of the handle bars, was somewhat hidden in the trees.

I heard the growl as Michel ripped the driver’s door off the car and pulled something from inside, throwing it into the road behind him.

Revenant...

My curiosity momentarily quaffed, I drew one of my katanas as the skeletal creature rose. As if sensing its doom, it turned and faced me. Smiling through the rotting flesh of its face and baring yellowed teeth, the revenant’s glowing eyes focused on me. The malice wafting from the creature as it came toward me was like a welcomed hug. From my peripheral, I saw my brother, the driver’s door still in his hands, leaning into the car.

The revenant swiped at me with its bony claws, ripping my sleeve. A thin trickle of blood oozed from the fresh wound to my arm

That was my favorite leather jacket, I complained to the now snarling monster.  Raising my weapon, I danced the blade over the boned and almost fleshless arm that lashed for me again. I fell to my knee, momentarily stunned, but it was enough. The revenant had turned back toward the vehicle as Michel crawled into the driver’s side.

Hey! I yelled, drawing its attention, giving my brother time to put the car in gear and speed off. I jumped to my feet and ran to  my  motorcycle,  kicking  it  to  life.  With  a  huff  of disappointment, I spun the tires and made my way into the forest, drawing the creature to follow.

Now you must bear in mind, I do not drive just some motorcycle. This crotch rocket is a Ducati Streetfighter. To say my bike was not built for traipsing through the woods would be a gross understatement, as well as an insult to the motorcycle. It has street race competition traction, but as I was traveling a road paved only in leaves and pine needles and not the hot asphalt that gave off its pleasant aroma on a hot day, I adjusted the traction control level accordingly, yet still skidding and slipping over the dew covered vegetation.

The revenant was losing ground behind me, but I didn’t give it the opportunity to reclaim its position. Throttling further and spinning the wheels, I raced even faster through the tall oaks and spruces that framed the nonexistent trail. The creature giving chase became smaller and smaller in my mirrors, until eventually, it was removed from my sight completely.

So you can imagine my displeasure when I was forced to lie on my brakes and slide to the right to avoid a group of revenants that had sprung up in my path from out of nowhere.

My bike stopped abruptly, hitting a felled stump and throwing me off. I landed on my feet and quickly pushed my baby into a patch of thickets.

One plus for the good guys, revenants aren’t very intelligent.

I watched as one of the cowl hidden figures with glowing eyes approached me. I reached for my swords, but they were gone, apparently thrown into  the  brush  when  my  motorcycle  had  come  to  its  sudden  halt. Without the razor-sharp edged weapons to use, I opted to go with my second deadliest weapon.

My mouth...

So, umm... What the hell? I was just out for a little moonlight ride. You know, if you’re gonna be strolling in the woods after dark, you should seriously consider wearing a reflective vest. Maybe one of those glow-sticks kids use when they trick-or-treat?

The boney hands, obviously not appreciating my taunt, grabbed hold of my collar. Even as I cursed and protested, my feet left the earth and I was air born. I watched the trees fly past in reverse until coming to an unanticipated stop. Glass shattered around me and my head hit something hard and unyielding. The pain blossomed in my skull immediately and my vision blurred. Unable to prevent it, I let me eyes drift closed.

I can’t say exactly how long I lingered in the black of unconsciousness. I’d thought I felt something rummaging through my pockets, searching. Finally it was confirmed when I heard the familiar jingling of my Ducati’s keys. 

The  next  thing  I  heard,  I  was positive, was the voice of the angel’s coming to retrieve me.

Is that a body?

The sound of those words, in other circumstances appalling, were now a beautiful song that waltzed inside my ears. I found myself trying to open my eyes to find what manner of creature had sung that melody, but no matter how much I willed them to function, the lids were weighted down.

A shriek rang out from somewhere and I heard Michel tell the voice to run. My instincts began to take over as my brother and his companion’s footsteps quickened on pavement.

With great effort I was able to push my eyes open, catching a quick glimpse of Michel. He was throwing something over his shoulder as he ran away from what I assumed was the same revenant that had tossed me so handily through the forest.

Its back was to me, so it failed to notice as I slipped off the hood of the car that had broken my fall. I took a quick inventory of my surroundings and spied a shimmering just a few feet away.

My katanas, sans their sheaths, lay atop of a patch of wild raspberries like The Golden Fleece of legend. I smiled as I took the hilts, custom molded to my hands to ensure a glove like fit, and rested them gingerly in my palms. I stayed to the shadows while creeping closer to the monster who pursued Michel.

I heard the familiar purr of my motorcycle and watched as Michel pushed the bike on to the road. It was then, with only the moon as my lighting and my keen vampire vision, that I saw the female sitting behind him.

She glanced at the revenant approaching them. Her hair was a mass of fiery tangles that flew out behind her as Michel throttled the gas. Her face was unmarred, other than a slight gash to her forehead, and I found myself feeling sorry and hoping it wasn’t my less-than-graceful landing on the windshield that caused the wound. Odder yet was the unfamiliar sensation in my chest.

Just once, I felt a strange, almost hollow feeling. I can’t say that it hurt, but it was like nothing I’d felt before. Without thinking, I let my hand tap the spot under my ribs where the sensation had been, but just as quickly, it was gone.

Putting the strange ailment on the backburner, I snuck up behind the revenant. And as my luck for the evening would have it, a stick cracked and rent into the night like an off tune tuba.

The being turned, with its cold glowing gaze landing on me. In one fluid movement, I raised my weapons to the air, crossing them over the revenant’s head, and drew through the bones and rot. I held the thin swords out to my side as the creature’s head lolled to the left before falling to the road with a thud.

As the body crumpled to my feet before turning to fine ash, the only sight of Michel and the female with him was that of the solo tail light of the bike they’d sped away on. Thoughtlessly I rubbed at the spot in my chest, the strange sensation flickering once more before disappearing.

In the time that’s passed since then, I have come to some vital realizations, but none more important than this: I don’t know if it was really the Mayans, or perhaps the Aztecs; maybe it was Cleopatra’s seers or the Three Wise Men who had ventured to a stable in Bethlehem, but whomever it had been that predicted the eventual demise of the world, I can tell you they were wrong.

It was on that night, on that lonely stretch of country road surrounded by towering trees and wild flowers that my world, the one I’d always known, ended forever.

And Angels help me if she ever finds out.

One

"D

on’t you think you should take a break? I don’t know, eat something? Maybe use the bathroom? Don’t you mortals do that sort of thing?"

I ran my hands over my face in frustration. I’d been pouring through my grandfather’s tomes and histories for so long that even when I closed my eyes, the strange yet now familiar letters that comprised the script of The Realm danced across my lids.

Half mortal, I answered Seatha from behind my palms. And yes, we do that sort of thing, but food and sleep take up valuable time I can’t afford to waste. The Angels are supposed to claim Michel in a little over two weeks, and I still haven’t found anything useful in any of the books I’ve gone through.

I sat back in the chair, lowering my hands to glance at my concerned friend. The fairy looked grim and exhausted as she studied my expression. Seatha opened her mouth to speak, but I waved her off before she could.

I know, Seatha, I know. But I can’t give up until I’ve read over every single page. I closed the heavy book I’d been studying and shoved it to the  side,  grabbing  the  next  in  the towering to-be-read  stack and focusing my attention on page one.  There has to be something here, some miniscule detail or verse I’ve missed—,

We’re just worried about you, Maggie.

And I appreciate your concern, I answered, not looking up at her.

Then why not—

What? I questioned, my words angrier than I felt.

It wasn’t Seatha’s fault that Michel was laying in the Throne Room of King Edwyn’s castle, his body waiting for angels to consume it and take him to the Angel Realm as a slave per some ancient agreement between the vampires and their creators.

Yeah, Angels, the good guys...whatever.

I’ll... I’ll leave you to it then, the fae stuttered softly in retreat.

Seatha, I lifted my head to apologize, but the door of the library was already closing. I blew out a breath as I slid the chair backward and stood.

Shit, I complained to no one, making my way to the oversized window that looked out to the garden. The night was clear and crisp, the first hint of Fall just beginning to appear in the changing leaves. The moon shone brightly down on Liam’s meticulously manicured flower beds. I realized the moon would be full soon, and I wondered how prepared Davis was for the oncoming change.

Autumn, my friend and the resident witch, had researched different plants  and  spells  that  might  help  him  with  the  painful  effects  his muscles and bones were sure to suffer when he transformed from his human body to that of a werewolf. Teasing him, I’d heard Seatha as she’d ran around in the form which I had first come to know her by, my pet Siberian Husky, letting her tongue hang loosely from her mouth. Autumn hadn’t found any humor in the fae’s antics, but Davis was good natured about it.

Autumn and Davis had become very close since he took up residence with us at The Trust. She was teaching him to read, and they’d graduated from early readers to Dr. Seuss. They spent many nights in the waning summer temperatures on the front porch. I’d heard the laughter from where I sat in the library shuffling through books, trying to find a way to bring Michel back. A quick pang of jealousy shot through me at their happiness, and I felt the early warning heat of flames.

Oh, stop it, I admonished myself, and the heat dissipated.

I missed it, the laughter, the joy, the good natured teasing that my friends did. I missed feeling the sun on my skin. I missed remembering what it felt like to smile.

Turning from the window, I glanced around the huge room. The hearth had a fire blazing and crackling. I wasn’t sure who’d lit it, or even how long it’d been burning, but it showed no signs of dying down.

Finally...a break, a voice spoke softly from the doorway. Turning, I found my grandfather Liam entering the room and walking to me.

I nodded my head and paced closer to the fireplace, silently hoping the heat would ease my tensed muscles.

I didn’t mean to startle you, he offered in apology.

You didn’t, I answered without looking at him.  I stretched my body, forcing the blood to flow out to my hands and feet, before I sat and stared to the orange flickering that danced as it burned the logs.

My grandfather put his hands on my shoulders, and with an exhausted sigh, I asked, I thought you knew a way to bring Michel back?

I know that it’s been done before, Liam offered tenderly. There must be a record of how the feat was accomplished; it’s only a matter of finding it.

And in the meantime, I pray to anyone listening for help that never arrives, I whispered with frustration.

I am sorry, Margaret.

I shook my head before I craned my neck around to look up at him. He appeared to have had as much sleep as me in the last few days. I looked to my feet, feeling ashamed of myself for having taken such a negative tone of voice with him. I’m sorry. I know you said it’d be difficult, but I’d assumed that meant fighting Revenants or some other terrible creature. Not days and days spent searching through every hand written book in this house.

Liam managed a strained smile at my complaint, Every journey begins with a single step.

And all of mine seem to be taken between bookshelves.

My grandfather chuckled, and I couldn’t help but return his smile. He gave my shoulder a squeeze, You are a remarkable gift, Margaret. The answers are here, we just need to find them, but first, he lifted my chin with a finger, You must eat. How long do you think you can continue without nourishment?

I’m not hungry,

Then sleep. I open my mouth to protest, but Liam took my lips in his fingers, pursing them shut. I looked cross eyed at his hold on me and my grandfather raised an eyebrow at my expression and smirked. I’m still your grandfather. Rest, even if only for an hour. Perhaps fresh eyes will offer clarity? Without giving me the chance to argue,  Liam  released  me  and  turned,  walking  to  the doorway.

Rest in here. I’ll let the other’s know you’re napping. I shall return in a few hours with food, and together, we will find the answer, he instructed without looking back.

Grandfather? I called to him. He paused and looked over his shoulder. Thanks.

With a nod in return, he left, leaving the library door open just a crack.

I walked around the room, realizing how stiff my muscles actually had become from sitting hunched over at the desk and finding that even the roar of the fire wasn’t enough to ease the aches. I ran through my internal calendar, trying to determine what day it was. Hell, I didn’t even know what hour it was. I’d been counting the passage of time via the sun shining in through the windows, followed by the darkening of the shadows it cast as night set on the world. Lost in my thought, my foot stuck to the hardwood floor and I tripped.

Damnit, I murmured before the memory invaded my thoughts.

Now, Maggie, I’ll take that kiss... Slowly, as the phrase repeated itself, I bent my knees and put my palms against the wood floor. I’m not sure what I expected, maybe some lingering heat where I’d lain with Michel’s body over mine, but the wood was cool under my hands. I knelt, running my hands over the smooth surface as the memory of that encounter flashed through my mind.

As if it would somehow make the memory come alive again, I slowly laid down, my head against the panels and my back cracking as it straightened. I closed my eyes and tried to will the moment back to life.

I wanted to feel Michel’s breathy words against my lips. Behind my eyelids, I searched for his emerald gaze looking back at me. I almost felt the loose strands of his jet black hair, with its shimmering blue highlights, tickling my cheek. But it wasn’t his hair that I felt gracing me.

Without bidding, tears had begun trickling down the side of my face, reminding me of the here and now, and of the task at hand. I need to find a way to bring him back. I put my arm over my eyes, wishing the action would stem the flow.

It was my fault he was gone. He’d sacrificed himself to save me from Ossa when the revenant leader was about to drain me dry. I’d knelt beside him as his life had drifted away. I’d watched his brother, cradling his sibling against his chest, as he dematerialized and transported Michel back to Celine.

Luc...

I hadn’t seen Michel’s brother since the day he’d left The Trust, saying he was going in search of answers, to make a deal with the devil or whoever would listen, to find a way to return Michel to us. He’d looked determined, but I’d known it was nothing more than a well- crafted mask to spare me from seeing his suffering.

And another memory crept to mind. The kiss Luc had given me...

I’d tried over the days and nights of reading, to avoid that memory. I tried to stay focused on finding a way to save Michel, but every now and again, the recollection of Luc’s eyes looking down into mine would make its way back to me. The cool, soft touch of his lips  and  the  honesty  of  his  words  remained  like  a  grass  stain  you scrubbed at but couldn’t remove.

Because, in spite of all that’s happened, I can’t help but be in love with you.

I’d been hurting, just as the vampire prince had been. We’d been caught up in emotions when that kiss happened. It meant nothing at all to me, or to him, but that didn’t quell the burning in my chest that would arise whenever I remembered his words. And the longer Luc was gone, the deeper the burn rooted inside me.

I lifted my hands to my face and wiped away the saltiness as I willed that thought from my mind. It’s not important; the only thing that matters is finding a way to bring Michel back.

Laying down on the job? A familiar voice questioned from just inside the doorway, I could have sworn I asked you to not do anything stupid.

I jumped to my feet in a very ungraceful manner, catching the toe of one sneaker on the same spot that had caused my fall a little earlier. Just as I was mentally bracing myself for a face-plant, my body came to an abrupt halt against a reluctant brick wall.

Luc had transported himself in time to catch me. I found myself pressed tightly against his chest with his gaze trained on mine.

Luc, I whisper, wondering if he could hear how my heartbeat had quickened.

It would seem that I made it back just in time. I thought you told me once you had no need for a hero? he teased softly, but the smile in his eyes never made it to his lip.

Seconds passed in silence, and the glimmer of humor in his eyes dimmed. Our gazes locked on one another but neither of us stepping away. I felt Luc’s arms tense around me, and we both inhaled. My lungs filled with the distinct scent that was only Lucian de’Celine. Fierce, earthy, and inherently masculine.

Embarrassed by my lack of words, I pushed off his chest and righted myself, needlessly brushing away his touch. I’m fine.

He snickered. Indeed. It would seem that you have changed little in the time I’ve been gone. Luc stepped away and made his way to the buffet table of decanters.

I used the few moments of his back turned to me while he opened and sniffed at the contents of one container to gather my thoughts before he could poke around inside my brain and find my assessment of him.

Any luck? the vampire asked as he poured himself a drink.

Not really, I struggled. Liam says he’s positive there’s something in one of his books that will tell me what I have to do to get Michel back.

At the sound of his brother’s name, Luc stiffened, but still didn’t look at me. Liam would know, he answered, finally twisting his body toward me. He swirled the contents of the crystal goblet expertly as if it was a fine vintage of Chianti, rather than the blood of his creators.

I nodded my head with effort and walked to the oversized desk even as Luc flopped himself onto the chaise lounge, gulping back a large swallow of his beverage.

I’ve looked through these, but I’ve had no luck with anything. It’s just a bunch of tales and records of marriages and births. I explained.

When Luc made no answer, I carefully glanced up at him from under my eyelashes. He still held onto the porcelain skin and midnight locks he’d had when I’d last seen him, but his face looked worn, and the blue highlights in his tresses had dulled. I wasn’t clear on where he’d gone, but it was obvious that wherever it had been had taken a toll on the vampire.

Relax, Firebird, Luc spoke over his goblet without meeting my eyes, I’m tougher then I look.

I was confused for a minute and my expression must have shown it. Rather than explain his words, the vampire tapped his temple.

I haven’t had to worry about anyone looking around my thoughts since—

My voice faded before I could finish my sentence.

Since I wasn’t here, Luc finished for me quietly, but he knew...he could see the words I’d failed to say aloud in my eyes.

Since Michel died...

Right, I nodded, looking to the volumes of Realm histories that swarmed the desk as I mindlessly shuffled them around, mindlessly making stacks of them.

Right, he said softly.

How about you? Any luck?

Funny you should ask, came his reply as he rose to his feet and glared at the now empty goblet.  I may actually have found something.

I felt a spark of hope rise in my chest as I watched the prince refill his drink.

Two

"W

hat did you find?" Seatha entered the room, followed closely by Autumn and Davis. I didn’t fail to notice that the witch and shifter were holding hands.

Fairy, darling, Luc smiled at Seatha, and Autumn.  It’s a cherished day indeed that I can look upon you both. Luc turned his focus to Davis next and gave him the standard Luc/Davis Greeting.

Dog, Luc continued his wicked smile.

Bloodsucker, Davis responded.

And where is Gramps? I shan’t want to repeat this, Luc questioned with feigned exhaustion.

Shan’t? My grandfather repeated from the doorway. Come now, Luc. While we’ve missed you dearly, let us not pretend you became civilized while away.

Fair enough, the vampire replied, resuming his seat on the chaise.

Did you find a way? I asked, coming around the desk, my legs feeling wobbly. Could Luc really have found a way to bring his brother back?

In part, he answers my silent question, looking at me.

Stop. Doing. That, I commanded, knowing Luc would understand.

Luc waved off my admonishment before going on. As I said, I’ve discovered a way that may help get Michel back from the Angels, but only in part. With any luck, Liam will be able to assist with the missing pieces.

If I can, Liam offered.

Luc nodded his head. I was only able to get a portion of the information. It would seem that at some point, I may have slighted the witch who I got this from.

May have? Seatha snorted, Whatever would have made you think that, Luc? You’re always so personable and charming. I can’t believe that you may have offended somebody.

I smiled at the fairy’s taunt, even as Davis made a huh noise. In kind, Luc offered them both a one fingered salute. I shot my friends a look, silently requesting they shut up so he could continue. With a nod, Seatha and Davis both stifled their chuckling.

Luc cleared his throat and continued. As I was attempting to explain, witches-and no offense to Autumn here-tend to speak in riddles. I personally prefer the straight forward approach.

What did she tell you? I asked, moving closer to Luc and sitting on the floor near his feet. Luc spared a glance at me and let his eyes linger just long enough for me to think maybe he wasn’t as confident in the information he’d received as he was trying to let on.

She told me that Angels are fickle creatures, which we of The Realm already know. I expressed as much, he went on, softer as he looked at me.

No wonder she was ticked, Autumn commented. No Witch wants to be told you already know something that they’re trying to share with you.

Indeed, Liam spoke, breathing onto his glasses and then cleaning them with his ragged Yardbyrd’s tee, I remember this one instance...

Everyone looked at Liam, willing him to not go off on another one of his stories. He paused, signaling for Luc to continue. Our attention refocused on the vampire even while he studiously examined the drink in his hands.

"She explained that the only way the Angels would even consider returning Michel to us would be to offer a suitable replacement, something of importance to Michel; something that would equally mirror his feelings to it. If we’re lucky, the Angel’s would accept that in exchange for his freedom, but the witch wasn’t positive even that would work. It boils down to