Phoenix Reborn (8 page)

A
shling’s phone rang again that afternoon. But this time, it wasn’t Hawke. The number was one that she didn’t recognize; no doubt another cell phone.

“Hello?” she said, her voice hesitant.

“Ashling,” said the confident voice on the other end. “It’s Wayne. We met last night.”

“Oh, right. You’re the location scout.”

“That’s right. Listen, Hawke is busy today but he told me I might get you to show me the wooded area outside of town. He said it might work very well for one of our scenes.”

“Um, sure. I mean, I’m supposed to run some errands, but maybe around four I could meet you there? There’s a stream not too far from the east end of the parking lot at...”

“I know just what you mean. That sounds great. Four it is, then.”

“Sure. I’ll see you there.”

The truth was that she’d hardly gotten any work done all day; her mind had been filled with thoughts about the previous night — her too-brief time spent with Hawke — and with what Ranach had said earlier.

Hawke, like Ranach, had hinted that she was special, and that he knew something. But he didn’t know what her mentor did. How could he? The old wizard had said that humans were out of the inner circle of shifters, unaware of her kind.

But then, Hawke had been on the verge of kissing her when he’d said those things. Maybe he was just paying her a compliment when he’d spoken of her specialness.

Ranach, on the other hand, had told her of her legacy, of a fate that seemed to be tied to her very genes. A life ahead that was unlike what she’d ever imagined she could face. She was an even bigger freak than she’d ever thought — but at least now she had some answers; an explanation for her strange abilities. And to think that there were others like her, to know that she wasn’t alone. It was all reassuring, if shocking. She was part of something greater than herself. Something magical, even.

But as for Hawke — if he learned the truth, he would run a thousand miles. That she was one of these mysterious shape-shifters who lurked in shadows, who congregated in Woodland Creek and hid themselves in broad daylight. And if she got involved with him, how could she possibly hide it from him? It seemed, from what Ranach had said, that her life was on a path of change. She was no longer weird little Ashling Jones. She was something remarkable, and would continue to develop.

Well, at least she was
potentially
remarkable. The fact remained that she’d never changed into anything at all. She was a shifter who didn’t shift; all she did was burn things.

But in the end, she had to accept it: for the first time in her life she felt genuinely excited about the future. She had something to look forward to, even if it was a little frightening. She had a purpose, and her life was beginning to make sense. Maybe the fact was that she belonged right here in Woodland Creek. Maybe it was the “normal” people that she’d once envied so much who didn’t belong. This place was threaded with magic, and she would learn to manipulate it as she manipulated molten silver, shaping the powers to fit into this new world — a world of her own making.

And at 3:45, stepping back into a world of the normal and the mundane, she found herself heading towards the creek to meet the location scout. As she walked, her stomach braided itself into nervous knots of anticipation. Something about the meeting was making her anxious. It occurred to her that this was likely a result of the fact that Wayne knew Hawke well. And after all, she still wanted to make a good impression on him.

But maybe the location scout wanted to scrutinize her, to work out if she and Hawke were an item. If she was worthy of their movie star friend. It had made her a little uncomfortable; for a self-conscious person, probing eyes were an invasion, a violation of personal space.

Her phone rang as she came close to the stream; it was the same number as before. She answered it.

“Hello?”

“Ashling,” said the voice on the other end. “I’m running a little late. Maybe while I’m making my way towards you, you could answer a few questions for me.”

“Sure,” she said, rolling her eyes. Why did he have to be late? She just wanted to get this whole thing over with.

And then he began a barrage of queries, starting with simple questions: what was Woodland Creek like? How about its inhabitants?

“It’s homey and quiet, I suppose,” she answered, careful not to reveal her newly discovered secrets. “The people are friendly. You know, normal.”

And the questions proceeded in an unrelenting stream:

“Have you lived here all your life?” “Who were your parents?” “Has anything really unusual ever happened here?”

All innocent questions, but all deeply personal, as well. Ashling felt as though he were slowly peeling away layers leading towards well-hidden secrets.

As she walked in shallow circles on the grass, answering as well as she could, Ashling found her eyes searching the sky once again. For the eagle, or the vulture, or any creature who was lucky enough to be free in that moment.

“And the setting where we’re meeting,” said Wayne. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s pretty. Calm, peaceful. Tall trees cast shade over the stream, reflecting in its water.”

“This is great,” said the man as Ashling looked out at the spot that she was describing. “Just what I’d hoped for.”

“What scene is this place for?” asked Ashling.

“This is where they’ll make love for the first time.”

“Make love?”

“Hawke and the main female character. On the grass, by the creek. It’s idyllic, don’t you think?
Magical,
even.”

Ashling looked around for a moment. It was almost as though the man were standing, looking at the same site as she was. But she saw no one.

Her phone beeped and she looked at it. A text from Hawke.

“One second, Wayne,” she said.

Where are you, my eagle-watcher?

Showing your location scout a stream — except he’s not here yet,
she typed back.

No, of course he’s not. He’s in New York. Took off this morning. Family emergency.

Wait, What?

But there was no response.

An onslaught of adrenaline coursed through her system. If Wayne was in New York, who the hell had she been speaking to? It sounded just like the man she’d met the previous night — even his accent matched.

She tried to calm her heart enough to speak again.

“Wayne?” she said. “Sorry about that…I’m back.”

“I can see that,” said the voice, its timbre changed.

Ashling turned around just in time to see a man walking towards her, out of the woods. He was tucking a cell phone into the back pocket of his dirty jeans. She recognized him immediately: it was the man from outside the bar the previous night. The one who’d referred to her as
Fire Girl.

“Wha — what are
you
doing here?” she asked, backing towards the stream.

“Tell me about Woodland Creek, this place. Tell me about your powers. About the fire.”

Just like that she was ripped out of all thoughts of anything else. Hawke, the stream, the film.

“What?” she said. “How did you—?”

“Oh, right. You want to know how I sounded so much like your new friend Wayne. I can mimic voices. Pretty impressive, isn’t it? You see, I heard your little conversation last night. I heard you give him your number. And it wasn’t hard to get his — those film types are always schmoozing, handing out their numbers to pretty young women. And so, earlier today, a very nice doctor with a gentle voice called to inform him that his mother had been injured in a car accident. That he should return home immediately. He’s far away now. And I’m here. So tell me what you are.”

“You can do that? You can imitate people?” she asked, attempting to stall, to calm her raging heart, to stall for time as she sized up the situation. This man was trouble; every instinct in her told her to run, to fly. But she couldn’t. All she could do was cower and hope that he wouldn’t hurt her.

“Stop delaying the inevitable,” said the man, growing irritated, his eyes displaying his building rage. Overhead, a bird of prey cried out, and the man’s eyes shot to the sky, as did Ashling’s. It was the Golden Eagle, high overhead once again as though surveying its territory.

“Look,” said the man. “I know about the fire; others have told me about your skill. I know what you’re capable of. Let’s keep this easy, shall we? I don’t want to have to beat it out of you.”

Still backing away, Ashling spoke again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah. You do,” he said, advancing. High above, the eagle cried out again. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re a shifter. Now
shift.
I need to see your form, before we…” He stopped short of completing the sentence.

“I…can’t,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I don’t know how to shift.” Her feet were still moving her backwards, closer and closer to the water’s edge. She had nowhere to run.

“Your hands are telling me a different story,” said the man. Ashling looked down to see that once again, beyond her control they glowed, hues of red, orange, yellow, which ran in molten streams up her arms.

“Please,” she said. “I can’t always control it. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You’re a creature of fire,” he said, stopping before her. “You are one of the rarest of us.”

“Us?”

“You have the potential to be very powerful and very dangerous to all our kind. A fire shifter cannot go by undetected, and your power will only grow into a more destructive force. And the only way to stop you is to end you.”

So, her instincts had been right. He was a psychopath. “End me? You’re saying…”

“There isn’t room for your kind on this earth,” he growled. “You will take us all with you to ruin, too. I’ve seen your sort before and they don’t belong on this earth. They bring nothing but destruction and chaos with them, everywhere they go.”

Ashling fell backwards then, her feet tripping her up over a large stone. Her hands came down on a patch of dry grass, igniting stray blades around her fingers. Flames circled her in a shallow wall, protective and uncontrolled at once.

“There it is. The flame that would destroy us all. The fire that would engulf entire towns, expose every shifter. You don’t know your own curse.” The man lurched towards her, his body threatening to leap over the fire onto his victim. So, he really did mean to kill her.

She threw a glowing arm across her face, concealing herself from him. But there was no protecting herself from whatever he intended to do. Fire was not a solid shield, and he would no doubt move through it with ease. He could be on her in a flash.

“Stop!”

The voice came from behind Ashling’s assailant. Hawke was running out of the woods, sprinting towards him at enormous speed; so fast that he seemed almost to be a blur. Or perhaps it was only Ashling’s paralyzing fear that created the illusion, slowing everything else down as her life tried to flash before her eyes.

Hawke leapt on the man’s back just as he began to turn, the two rolling a in a flurry through the grass, limbs tangled together. The man, immediately going limp, didn’t fight back. It seemed that he was no match for Hawke’s youth or strength.

Nevertheless, the young man held his collar as he pinned him down, snarling words at him.

“What did you do to her?” he said. “If you hurt her, so help me…”

“Please,” said the stranger. “My arm — you hurt it badly. Please let me go. I just wanted to scare her. I wanted her gone, away from here.”

Hawke stood up, releasing his collar. “Get the fuck out of here,” he said. “But if I ever see you near her again, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me?”

The man nodded before dashing into the woods, away from them.

“Ashling,” said Hawke, turning to her. “Are you all right?”

The fire around her died down in that moment to faint embers, fading fast as though it had never existed.

She looked down at her hands, which were still planted on either side of her hips. The grass was charred around them but the glow from the fire had disappeared, probably because of the dampness brought on by proximity to the creek.

“I’m okay,” she said as she pushed herself to her feet. “That man…he…”

“He’s gone now,” he said. “For good. It’s all right.” He put his arms around her, pressing her head to his chest. “I’m here.”

L
ong minutes passed before either spoke, though Ashling would gladly have stood pressed to Hawke in silence forever.

She found her breath calming as he held her. But what had he seen? Had he heard what the man had said? Did he know what she’d done?

“I thought…” she said. “He phoned and said he was your location scout, Wayne. I don’t know how he did it. He sounded exactly like him.”

“He tricked you. I told you the other day, some people aren’t what they seem. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He pulled away for a moment and kissed her forehead.

“I think he wants me dead, Hawke. I think he wanted to kill me.”

“How could anyone want you dead?” He asked the question with a smile on his face, but underneath his reassuring façade Ashling could sense anger; rage, even.

All she could do was shake her head. She had no reply for him.

“Damn it. Ashling, there’s something you should know,” said Hawke at last. “About me.”

She lifted her chin to look into his eyes, uncertain that she could handle any more bad news. Hawke opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself, as though whatever he had to convey was too painful.

“It’s nothing,” he said, smiling again; another attempt to reassure her. “Just that I…don’t usually attack lunatics. Especially with my bare hands.”

“Most men don’t,” said Ashling, allowing her own relieved smile. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move so fast as you did just now. Except—” She recalled suddenly the night that she’d set Jeremy on fire, when Hawke had darted out of the woods to save him.

“It was my pleasure. No — of course, not
pleasure.
But it was certainly my duty. And as for speed, you know what they say about adrenaline kicking in when someone’s in danger.”

“Your producers would kill me if they knew you’d nearly gotten your face torn off on my account.”

“Well, that doesn’t matter,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “I’d find a new career as a guy who only plays horribly mangled men.”

“I hear they’re very much in demand.”

“You’d be surprised. Listen, I’m supposed to be filming this afternoon, and I don’t want you wondering if I’ve disappeared on you. I can’t really text or call while I’m on set. But I want you to let me know that you’re okay. That you’re safe.”

“Of course,” she said. “I will.”

“Good.”

“So — how are things with your female lead?”

“You’re my female lead. The only one that counts, anyhow.”

Ashling smiled. The way he spoke, she almost believed he meant it. A sudden thought occurred to her. “How did you know I was here? I didn’t say…”

“I don’t know how I knew. A sixth sense, I suppose,” he said, taking her hand. “When I got your text, I knew that something was wrong, of course. So I hunted for you. I feel a strong bond with you, Ashling.” He pulled her fingers to his mouth, kissing them. “If something happened to you, I’d hate myself for not protecting you.”

“I should be able to protect myself.” She drew her hand away. It was impossible not to recall how her fingers had looked only minutes earlier; glowing in streams of colour, unnatural and threatening. “But thank you, again.”

“Do you want to come watch the filming? I’m afraid that it’s more awkward date scenes.”

“I have to work again.” The truth was that she couldn’t bear the thought. Actors and actresses always seemed to fall for each other, and it seemed an overly masochistic pursuit to watch a man she was growing to care about form a bond with someone else.

And besides, she wasn’t
supposed
to care about him, to want him so deeply. This was dangerous ground they were treading on, and if he wasn’t going to put an end to it, she would have to do it herself. As soon as she could muster the courage.

“Well, if you change your mind, we’ll be down by the coffee shop,” he said. “I’d love it if you came by. You might inspire something in me. After all, you’ve become my muse. I don’t think I would function well if I suddenly found that you weren’t in my life.”

“You did pretty well for yourself before I came along, Hawke.”

“I managed. But I wasn’t excited — not like I am now.”

“I’ve never been anyone’s muse,” said Ashling, unable to resist her own smile. He had such a way of assuring her of her importance, and she was so unaccustomed to feeling significant. “I’m happy to know that I inspire you. Even if it’s to inspire you to pretend to fall madly in love with someone else.”

Hawke laughed. “The operative word is ‘pretend,’” he said. “You should remember that I’m fairly good at my job. And in case I can be so arrogant as to think it might pain you in any way, let me just say that no actress can hold a candle to you, my beautiful fire girl.” He moved in closer. “You have given me new life, Ashling Jones. And I’m not going to put up with you constantly pulling away. Not when I so want to do this.”

He took her hand and gathered her to him, kissing her, softly, sweetly. A tentative kiss, as though he were trying to gauge whether he was welcome or not.

Ashling slipped a hand around his neck, pulling his face to hers, and showed him how very welcome he was. Her lips met his, eager, hungry for his taste. Their tongues entwined, sending her spiralling through space, her balance once again thrown off as gravity played tricks on her mind.

Yes, she wanted him, despite what had just occurred, or maybe because of it: danger, fear, all of it had only served to deepen her desire. And it seemed, gloriously, that he felt the same way. For a moment she forgot her resolution to break things off.

“I would so take your clothes off right here and now,” he whispered as he pressed his forehead to hers, his breath suddenly heavy. “I want to do everything —
everything
— to you, Ashling. Do you understand me? I’ve wanted to since you opened Ranach’s door.”

She nodded, acknowledging that she reciprocated the sentiment. Her hands were on his stomach, feeling his breath deepen under her touch. She wanted so badly to slip them under his shirt, to feel his heat, his sweat, every inch of that body that she’d seen on screen. And all of the inches that she hadn’t. He was so much better in person, if such a thing was possible.

As he kissed her again she felt her insides melt, for once enhanced by a heat other than her own. For a moment she wondered what sort of punishment might be inflicted on them if they had sex in a public place.

Probably best not to find out.

Hawke seemed to be of the same mindset as he took her hand again. “Come on,” he said. “Since I can’t have you here, I’ll walk you back into town. I want to make sure that psycho isn’t around. I hate that I have to work.”

Before long, they were nearing the street where his crew was set up, ready to film the next scene. Hawke’s face was apologetic as he turned to her. “I’m so sorry to have to say good-bye to you again. One of these days I want to hold onto you a little longer.”

“It’s all right. I understand.” Ashling wondered if she should stay and watch after all.

“Don’t get attacked by any more wild men, okay?” he said as he turned to walk away, when he’d ensured that there were enough people around to cast a protective eye over her. “At least not until I’m with you again.”

As she watched him go, her heart sank. Much as she hated to do it, she considered his words.
One of these days I want to hold onto you a little longer.

At some point she’d have to tell him that it couldn’t happen. Whether he lived in another city or not, made pretend-love to actresses or not, she was not like him, and they could never be together.

She would never be able to hide her true self from him, and not only that, but she could ruin his life, his reputation, if she didn’t get her powers in check. But even if she could learn to control them, how could a man like that want to be with a woman like her? She was a disaster. What sort of superstar tells the world that his girlfriend might turn into a mythical creature one day, and short of that she might just set a bunch of strangers on fire?

But she was falling for him, if she hadn’t already fallen as hard as a woman could. And the harder and faster she tumbled downward into the spiralling abyss that engulfed her, the harder it would be to regain her balance, to pull away. To protect him from her, and everything that accompanied her.

The time had come to run away, to escape Woodland Creek.

“You’re what?” Ranach’s eyes widened so that their whites shone around the irises. Ashling almost wanted to laugh; she didn’t even know that he had sufficient muscles to perform such an act with his features.

“I’m thinking about leaving for a while. I should go away, I think. Away from here.” She’d debated telling him, but if she took off without a word, she knew that he would worry about her. After all, he was as close as she’d ever come to having a parent, and she owed this to him, at the very least.

“But why? You’re only now learning who and what you are, my girl. Don’t you think you should explore that?”

“I should certainly explore it,” she said. “Just not here. There are things that I want to avoid, and people I don’t want to see.”

“Don’t want to, or think you shouldn’t? The two are quite different beasts.”

“Look, Ranach. A man — a very odd one — pretended to be someone else so that he could get me alone, and then tried to kill me. I don’t know why. But he seemed to think that I’m somehow a threat. Meanwhile, a man who’s got everything in the world going for him seems, for some insane reason, to want to date me. But if he knew what I am…”

“If he knew what you were, he might just want you all the more.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“Ashling,” said Ranach, his hands on the table before him. “If someone is after you, you need to stay close to home. He will pursue you.”

“Who is ‘he?’” she asked. “Who will pursue me, and why? I don’t even know who I am,
what
I am. I don’t understand why anyone would want to go after me.”

“Well, perhaps you’ll find out soon.”

“So let me go so that I can figure it out. I’ll be back. I just need a break from everything. Maybe if I go spend some time with nature I’ll find out what this all means.”

“Fine,” he said, surrendering. “I take it you’re not going to inform young Mr. Turner of your whereabouts?”

“No. He’ll be better off if he doesn’t know.”

“And what about me? May I at least know where you’re going so that I don’t worry?”

“I’m going to camp,” she said. “Not far away. Please don’t ask me more than that. I just need a few days to clear my head and process everything.”

“Fair enough. But please, Ashling — be safe.”

“I’ll do my best.”