Anthem of Ashes: A Reverse Harem Siren Romance (Spellsinger Book 9) Page 11

  “Do you have any idea where they were headed before they went missing?” I asked her.

  “We know exactly where each of them went,” Shava said grimly. “Phoenixes can sense each other and when we get in close proximity, we can track each other.”

  “Then what's the problem?” Gage asked.

  “The Pyre sent out our best hunters, but all they found were the barest traces of ash.” Shava shivered and clasped her hands together. “If a phoenix dies, they incinerate and then their ashes form a new body. The process leaves nothing behind, not even the smallest smudge. There should have been babies but no ashes. Instead, there is only a remnant of ash and no babies.”

  “Hold on.” Darc took the seat across from us. “You're saying that all of these missing phoenixes are dead?”

  “They died before the end of their life cycle,” Shava corrected. “Something happened to them; something fatal.”

  “Someone murdered them,” I concluded.

  “It's very possible,” she was back to whispering.

  “But they still should have been reborn,” Declan said. “Murder, accident, or the end of their cycle: it doesn't matter, right? They should have self-combusted and risen from the ashes.”

  “Yes,” Shava confirmed.

  “Are you sure they didn't?” Banning asked. “Perhaps the babies were found and taken to the human authorities.”

  “If they had been reborn, we would be able to find them,” Shava explained. “A new chick emits a pulsing energy; a distress signal that will sound until it connects with the nearest phoenix. Any phoenix hearing the call of a chick will immediately respond. It's a survival technique that evolved to ensure that no baby is left alone in the wilds for long. Once the baby is safely within the arms of a fellow phoenix, the signal subsides. If for some reason, there are no phoenixes in its general vicinity, the chick's family will sense its need and be drawn to it. In the unlikely and unheard of event that neither of those things happens, any phoenix who concentrates hard enough can zero in on newborns who are still emitting distress signals and track them.”

  “But you can't find the babies,” Torin concluded.

  “Not a single one.”

  “Then they're truly dead?” I asked the hard question.

  “No!” Shava declared emphatically. “That's simply not possible. Something has prevented the missing birds from rising.”

  “How?” Slate asked. “How do you stop the inevitable?”

  “I don't know.” Shava shook her head forlornly. “Magic, I suppose. Whatever has happened, it has something to do with the ashes. In all instances, there were only a few smudges left.”

  “Couldn't they have blown away?” Slate asked hesitantly.

  “No,” Shava said with absolute certainty. “Phoenix ashes have a magical magnetism. They are pulled together and have weight to them. Perhaps if the Phoenix died in a wind tunnel, the ashes might blow away, but they would move away together and even the strongest storm couldn't hamper rebirth.”

  “The only option left is that someone took the ashes,” I concluded. “But why?”

  “To hurt us?” She shrugged helplessly. “To be cruel? I don't know.”

  “They'd have to know precisely where a phoenix was about to die,” Banning pointed out.

  “The only way to be absolutely certain of someone's death is to kill them yourself,” Slate added.

  “And to kill a phoenix, you'd first need to find one. The killer must be able to recognize Phoenixes,” Torin finished. “That's not a common talent.”

  “I don't know,” I murmured. “Once you meet a phoenix, they become easier to spot. The vibrant coloring, the unearthly beauty, and that punch-you-in-the-face charisma.”

  “All of those things can be attributed to other races,” Torin argued. “It's only after you're introduced that those attributes make sense, and how often do most beneathers get an introduction to a phoenix?”

  “Not very,” Declan murmured.

  “All right, let's say that the killer has met a phoenix. What kind of beneather would be able to spot another phoenix after getting one of these rare introductions?” I countered.

  “A shifter perhaps?” Slate asked. “One with exceptional senses.”

  “That rules out Gargoyles,” Griffin teased him. “You guys have incredible eyesight but your noses aren't good enough to pick up the intricacies of racial scents.”

  “I have other talents.” Slate grinned back. “Talents I don't need to use my nose for.”

  That you do, baby, RS purred.

  Slate's smile turned into a smirk.

  “Not the time,” I said sternly to all of them.

  “Sorry,” the men muttered together while RS kept silent.

  “But they're right,” Banning said. “A loup could recognize a phoenix by scent. So could Drachen or Ryū but not Gargoyles.”

  “There are quite a few shifters who could possibly track Phoenixes if they set their minds to it,” Gage agreed. “But why? Hell, one look at a phoenix would stop any murderous urges you might have.”

  “The why will come later,” I said calmly. “Right now, we need to focus on who and how. Then we track them to the where, discover the why, and put a fucking stop to it.”

  I could feel myself sliding back into my fixer mentality; the Spellsinger for hire. And if I was going there, I needed one more thing. Or one more person, rather. Every good hunt has to have a hound.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Cerberus, I need you to get over to Kyanite as soon as possible,” I said into the contact charm. “We're in the living room of my tower.”

  “On my way.”

  A few seconds later, Cerberus stood before me in a pair of worn jeans, a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, and black work boots. His walnut hair was getting long for him, curling halfway down his neck, and his swarthy complexion looked flushed as if he'd been out in the sun. In fact, I could feel the borrowed warmth radiating off his skin. He set his dark stare on me, a bit of hellfire flashing in the depths of his eyes, and grinned.

  “Who we killin' today?” Cerberus asked.

  “I don't know yet.” I waved him at a seat. “We have to find them first.”

  “So why am I gonna sit?” Cer shot back. “Get off your scrawny ass and let's track our prey.”

  “You don't even want to know who we're tracking?” Shavalina asked in wonder.

  “No,” all of us answered along with Cerberus.

  “He's here because he enjoys the hunt and because I asked him to come,” I explained. “We're best friends; we have each other's backs no matter the situation. Anything we don't approve of can be discussed after the dust has settled.”

  “El says that she needs me, and I come running,” Cer simplified it. “Usually, it's to kill someone, and I'm okay with that. She'd do the same for me after all.”

  “Okay,” Shava whispered. “Thank you for your help.”

  “As I said; my pleasure,” Cer drawled as he winked at Shavalina.

  “I've had some success tracking people with songs,” I reassured Shava. “If you can take us to the most recent location where ashes were found, we can start there.”

  “Ashes?” Cerberus asked.

  “Oh, so you are interested?” Slate smirked.

  “Yeah, sure.” Cer shrugged. “It doesn't change anything, but I'm curious.”

  “Someone is killing Phoenixes and preventing them from rising,” I summed it up for him concisely. “Only traces of ash are left behind.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yep.”

  “That burns,” Cer said it dryly but his lips twitched.

  “You remember Shavalina from my wedding, right?” I asked him as I waved a hand at my teacher. “She's the Phoenix who has been helping me learn to control my Fire.”

  “Sorry,” Cer mumbled to Shava. “No offense. I make jokes at the worst times; it's my thing.”

  “Just help me find the people murdering my family and you can make all the fire jokes you want
, Hellhound,” Shava said.

  “You might regret that. I got a lot of fire jokes; been saving them up to use on El. But let's start with; you're smokin' hot, woman. If I didn't have a phenomenal girlfriend, I'd be all over that.” Cerberus twirled his pointer in a circle at Shava as the rest of us groaned.

  “You couldn't handle my heat, puppy dog,” Shava shot back, surprising everyone but me.

  I'd gotten to know the Phoenix pretty well from all the time we'd spent together. Shava may seem elegant and reserved, but she has a wild side and a quick tongue. In short; she's kind of awesome, and I hoped to keep our friendship going after my lessons finished.

  “Damn! All that and sass too,” Cerberus exclaimed. “You got me wishing I had a rooster spell like Elaria.”

  “So you could marry lots of men?” Shava asked innocently.

  We all hooted while Cerberus bowed his head to Shava in defeat. Well, maybe not defeat but definitely in temporary truce. The Hellhound never gives up; once his jaw locks on a victim, it doesn't release until he tastes blood. That's one of the things I love about him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Shava had a list of locations where phoenixes had died but hadn't been reborn. She took us to the last discovered spot, using a feather—the first one she ever shed—as a traveling charm. Several races have different magical means for traveling quickly around Earth. Traveling off planet, through the Veil, is far more difficult though, and most races have to employ machines to accomplish it. Phoenixes aren't one of those. Their original birth feathers—similar to the piece of birth-shell that Griffins use—are powerful enough to pierce the Veil.

  We stepped out into a park. I would have called it a forest except for the footpath and fountain I could see through the trees. We stood on an open patch of ground; leaves scattered over the sporadic patches of grass struggling to grow in the meager spots of sunlight that filtered through the thick canopy. There was no sign that anything nefarious had happened there; no scuffed soil or broken branches on the few bushes that grew nearby. Only the charred circle of earth where the Phoenix must have burned.

  But not a speck of ash remained in the circle.

  I went to stand in the center of the blackened soil and the rest of my group spread out to form a wall on my left; blocking me from sight. I immediately centered myself and focused on my spellsinging magic. I had been working so much with my goddess magics that it felt a little strange to have the other power rise inside my chest and fill my throat with its tickling potential. It's like having the urge to cough, except instead of coughing, I needed to sing.

  My love, you need me at last!

  I always need you, Ky. I just haven't needed to spellsing lately.

  That seemed to satisfy my jewel, and I felt his pleasure settle over me like a warm blanket.

  We are on the hunt again, he declared joyously.

  Obviously, the Rooster Spell muttered. Just get to it already. You know the song she wants to use.

  Could you possibly shut the fuck up while we're working? Kyanite growled.

  I blinked in surprise; my jewel didn't use foul words often. Then again, RS had been particularly annoying as of late.

  Yeah, whatever, RS muttered in my own voice.

  Unfortunately, I couldn't help them work out their issues now. I still had other things to focus on. Hopefully, they'd find some middle ground on their own.

  Good luck, my love.

  The groaning hum of “Trouble Finds You” by Juliet Simms spread out around me; not too loud, just enough to support my magic. Ky is brilliant like that; he knows when to tone it down and when to ramp it up. Still, when the lyrics came, they came in a screeching challenge and it's a bit difficult to soften a screech. My men winced, and I shrugged. Oh well, some humans might walk by and see a wall of people watching a woman singing in the woods. Stranger things have happened.

  I felt the song's story rush through me; a woman bent on vengeance; climbing out of her hell to slaughter those who had hurt her. I wasn't the one seeking vengeance today, but I felt indignant on behalf of Shava. Shavalina, who had helped me without asking for anything in return. Now, I needed to repay her kindness. She had come to me for help, seeing me as a goddess and a friend, so I would find those who hurt her and rain down destruction on them, as any good friend with goddess magic should.

  The angry shrieks quickly calmed into a terrible warning as I directed the boiling magic to rumble forth and seek out those who had murdered the Phoenix and stolen its ashes from this very spot. I fired my magic out like an arrow; shooting from my vibrating throat through the woods and beyond. I felt it go and followed it with my mind. I will find you, and I will take back what you've stolen.

  Fury drenched me. A brilliant inferno of magic blasted up inside me, mimicking the flames that had scorched the earth beneath me. I saw it play out like a memory; body burning and ashes falling. But then they swirled up into a thin ribbon and that gray powder surged along the path I had created with my music, surpassed it, and took the lead. It took me straight to the place it had gone. I saw it clearly in my mind and felt the knowledge of the location settle into my brain even as I continued to rock with the bashing beats and sway to the rhythm of retribution. I had the killer in my sights.

  Trouble had just found him.

  I let go of my magic and sighed forward.

  Darcraxis caught me before I fell and held me against his chest. “Did you find the ashes?”

  I looked up at him and smiled. He grinned back.

  “Where are they?” Shava asked urgently. “Where did they take the ashes?”

  “London,” I said. “We're going to England.”

  “God save the Queen,” Cerberus said with a chuckle.

  “I'm a little busy saving Phoenixes,” Darc shot back. “I'm sure the Queen can manage on her own.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  We didn't sightsee. No Buckingham Palace or Big Ben or other British things beginning with B. We joined hands, and I led us straight to the man who had murdered a phoenix, possibly multiple phoenixes. We found him lounging by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his ultra-modern apartment that must have cost a damn fortune in London. Despite his obvious financial success, he had on a pair of worn jeans and a frayed flannel; blue and green and hideous. As was the apartment. I was nearly distracted from my mission by just how cold—how completely devoid of emotion—that block of space was.

  Steel, glass, and leather. It didn't seem as if the man knew about any other decorating materials. And he had his boots on; dirty soles shown off by the angle at which they perched on a chrome and glass coffee table. He was sprawled on his black leather sofa, drinking a beer—a can of beer—and staring out at the impressive view with an air of satisfaction.

  That satisfaction shifted into terror as soon as he spotted us; his brown, bloodshot eyes going round as he dropped his beer. The can landed with a dull thud and glunked its golden contents onto an ugly shag rug. The man jumped to his feet, dirty boots churning the beer into mud and making the rug even uglier. His dishwater blond hair frayed wildly around his weasel face and his arms shot out to his sides as if he were defending a goal.

  “Who the fuck are you?” The man shrieked; the human man. “What do you want?”

  “Anyone else notice that he hasn't asked us how we got in here?” I asked casually.

  The man's ruddy complexion paled.

  “You know that we aren't human, don't you?” I asked him as I stepped forward.

  He backpedaled and fell over a side table. Luckily, the glass took the hit like a champ and merely made a low thud of complaint. Maybe the shag had cushioned it enough to prevent breakage. At least it was good for something.

  “Yeah.” The killer scrambled to his feet. “I know there are things other than humans out there.”

  “Like the one you murdered?” Shava shrieked. “That thing was my friend!”

  “It was just a job!” He kept backing away until he hit the kitchen counter. “I'm a hit man, o
kay? That's what I do for a living. Nothing personal.”

  “Nothing personal?” Shava growled. “Where are the ashes, asshole? Give them to me now or you'll see just how personal I can make this.”

  “The ashes?” He gulped.