Phoenix Fire Read online

  I glanced at Wyatt. “Thanks for helping my foster brother.”

  “Any normal person would have done what I did.”

  “Normal. No. I don’t think so. You were—amazing.” Images of Danny screaming, panicking, shot through my mind. Wyatt had calmed him. Gotten him to relax. Gotten me to relax when I saw my foster brother all banged up and bloody in the car. “And thanks for not ratting me out to my foster parents—about running alone.”

  “Amazing is overselling it. But you’re welcome.” One side of his mouth curved up in a smile.

  Wyatt the geek. I’d heard the name thrown around the dinner table when I first started living with the Fieldses. Tonight it had been clear that Jean and Dave knew him. “Why aren’t you Danny’s friend anymore?”

  He shrugged. “People stop being friends sometimes.”

  I supposed. I hadn’t really lived in a place long enough to make long-term friends, but I never imagined that people who still went to the same school and saw each other regularly could just stop being friends.

  The parking garage was pretty empty, and finding the Mercedes was easy. I clicked the unlock button and the car’s lights flashed. Like headlights. Memories of tonight rushed back. Headlights swerving. Metal bending. Glass shattering. Shaking, I looked down at my hands. The bloodstains on my shirt, brown in the pale yellow light of the parking garage, stole my breath.

  My thoughts started spinning. What I was seeing—my hands, Danny’s blood—changed like someone shook me back and forth so hard I couldn’t focus. Not again. Not right now. My knees grew weak, and then I didn’t feel anything. Almost like I was blind to everything around me except my thought. Then I saw it. Another memory. Not mine. One of those other memories. Someone else’s. I was staring at my hands—but they couldn’t be mine, right?—and someone’s blood. Lots of blood, dark and wet. And I was screaming someone’s name over and over while I stared at a boy I didn’t know. My throat burned. I could barely breathe. And something deep inside of me ached, as if my heart had been torn to pieces. Shredded. Hot tears—they weren’t mine—coursed down my cheeks.

  “Cade! Don’t you die, Cade. Caderyn, I’ll never forgive you if you leave me!”

  Even though it wasn’t my memory, the scream within it was mine.

  Chapter Two

  Cade

  I leaned back against the Challenger’s passenger seat and cracked one eye open to glance at the guy driving. Nick. I remembered that the guy’s name was Nick. I remembered what he looked like—I even had memories of Nick as a much younger kid. The thing was, none of these memories came from my lifetime—I’d only met Nick three weeks ago.

  “How’s your head, Caderyn?” Nick asked as he guided the Challenger around a turn headed toward the dark, gaping mouth of a cemetery.

  “It’s Cade.” I sat up. “A cemetery? You sure this is the place?”

  “This is the place.” Nick pulled the car forward past the sign and turned off his headlights.

  “You can’t see a thing.”

  Nick didn’t take his eyes off the road. “I can see.”

  “Where are we?”

  “A cemetery.”

  “I meant, what city.”

  Nick chuckled. “Little beach town known as Grand Haven, Michigan. Where the water’s salt free and freezing for at least half of the year.”

  I knew this place. Well, I knew the name. I’d been found here. I squinted and peered out the windshield. The sliver of a moon did little to light our way. “I’m pretty sure being in a cemetery after dark is illegal.”

  “Since when does that bother you?” Nick eased the car down a slope that could not possibly be a real roadway and parked.

  “Since never, but how do you know that?”

  “I told you. I’m your brother.”

  So he’d said. Two years older. “Yeah. I remember that much.”

  “You do?”

  I held up my hand to stop that train of thought. “Okay, wrong word choice. I remember you telling me, but no, I don’t recall you being my brother.”

  We sat in silence for a minute, each looking at one another. I was pretty sure Nick was looking at me even though it was really hard to tell in the dark. It seemed as though the warm glow of morning might be starting to leak onto the horizon. That, or my eyes were adjusting really well. A sudden thought made me sit up straight. “Can I…do I have like powers or something?”

  Nick laughed. A real honest laugh, and it sounded so familiar. Comforting in a strange way. “You can see me?”

  The more I focused, the more I could see. Weird. My heart pounded, and I couldn’t stop staring. I breathed in deep to try to calm my nerves so Nick wouldn’t notice. “Y-yeah.”

  “You don’t remember this place yet?” Nick motioned with his chin for me to peer out the windshield.

  Towering trees stretched over the gravestones. The place had kind of a peaceful feel to it. Almost like the trees were a comfort. But I didn’t remember—oh no. A wave of pain, like a splitting headache, pulsed into my skull. Stronger with each heartbeat until I buckled over and cupped my head in my hands. The pain settled behind my eyes as a vision infiltrated my brain. Great. Here we go again. I hoped Nick had a puke bucket handy.

  The vision always came with a strange motion that made me feel like I was experiencing vertigo. Then I saw it. My hands, covered with dirt and wrapped around a wooden handle. I stabbed the shovel into the ground and the tip sank deep. I wiped sweat off my brow. Brow? What the heck was I thinking that word for? And I saw Nick. He looked younger, and his clothes… What was he wearing? Something from the 1800s? These visions just got weirder. And more painful. Breathe through it.

  Thankfully, it drifted away, taking the throbbing ache with it. Eyes closed, I leaned back against the seat again. Then I cracked one eye open.

  Nick sat there, puke bucket in one hand and a water bottle in the other. I could clearly make out the deep crease between his eyebrows that I knew belonged to his concerned face. I knew because I’d seen it a million times before. Weird. I knew this, and yet I also knew—logically—that I had never seen it before three weeks ago.

  He handed me the water bottle.

  “No thanks.”

  “It usually helps you to be hydrated.”

  In that case, I downed half the bottle. Then I faced my brother. “How much do you remember?”

  “Everything.” He paused and smiled. “I think.”

  “How long have you been looking for me?”

  “Six months. It took some time to sort the memories and figure out I need to find you.”

  “And Ava?”

  “She turns sixteen in a month—same as you—so she should start remembering any day now.”

  I glanced out the windows again, simultaneously wishing the memories would hurry up and return and dreading them. “And we just look for the girl buckling over in pain every few hours?”

  Nick winced.

  Even if I only just started remembering him, I knew my brother was hiding something. “What?”

  “You’re the only one who gets the headaches.”

  Perfect. “What does that mean?”

  A smile lit Nick’s eyes. “It means you’re a wimp.”

  “Shut up.” I punched my brother’s rock-solid arm. “You never answered the superpower question.”

  Nick laughed again. “Cade, you were born to hunt monsters. Don’t you think you were also granted some special skills?”

  This very strange situation just got a lot cooler. “So, all those weapons in the trunk. Do we get to actually use them?”

  His smile was contagious. “Do you remember using any of them?”

  I shook my head, but those were memories I wouldn’t mind having back right now.

  “I thought this would be a good place for a lesson. Just let me know if you start having a memory.”

  “A lesson? As in, you’re going to teach me to use one of those weapons?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sweet. Let’
s start with the nunchucks.”

  “No way. We start with those, and you’ll have more than your memories giving you a headache.”

  Chapter Three

  Ava

  “Ava?”

  Wyatt’s voice called me out of the strange memory, and I realized I was leaning on Dave’s Mercedes to remain vertical. My heart was racing, and my hand left a sweaty print on the shiny black paint.

  Wyatt leaned next to me, his eyes searching my face. “You okay?”

  I shook my head but pushed myself off the car. “Yeah. I think I’m just tired.” I held out the keys with a trembling hand. How could I get this weird memory thing to stop? What was wrong with me? Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to be as far away from this hospital as possible. “Would you mind driving?”

  “Of course not.” He took the keys and led me to the passenger side. Then he opened my door, watching me the whole time. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Actually, I was certain I wasn’t okay, but there was no way I’d tell comic-book-loving, Bunsen-burner-master Wyatt that. He likely knew enough about science to know what was wrong with me and enough about science fiction to make me believe I was going insane. Maybe I was. Either way, I wasn’t ready to share this information with anyone. “I’m fine.” I slid into the car, ignoring the stab of pain in my knee, and he closed the door behind me.

  The ride to my foster parents’ house was quiet except for the radio. And even that stayed on Dave’s preset jazz station. But each of Wyatt’s glances in my direction spoke volumes. I just wasn’t sure what they were saying. He either thought I might stab him if he looked away for too long, was honestly concerned about me, or thought I might pass out and didn’t feel like carrying me inside if I were a heavy sleeper—which I wasn’t. At least the ride lasted long enough for me to calm my jittering nerves.

  He pulled into the driveway and the garage automatically opened. Ajax’s monster German shepherd head popped up between the curtains in the front window.

  Wyatt pulled the car into the garage, turned off the ignition, and handed me the keys.

  I took them. “You don’t have to stay.”

  “O-kay.”

  It almost sounded like a question.

  Neither of us moved to exit the car, and I stared at him. I didn’t need him to stay. I was fine on my own, which no one seemed to understand. But I sort of wanted him to stay. Tonight’s events had left me shaken for sure. All of them, the accident, the strange memories that weren’t mine.

  His eyes flicked to the door leading into the house. “Are you going in?”

  “How rude of me. I should take you home.”

  “What? No, no, no.”

  “Yes.”

  His smile was likely meant to reassure me. “It’s not far from here.”

  “Are you serious? After everything you’ve done for me tonight, I’m taking you home.”

  Wyatt popped out of the car.

  Before I got my door open, Wyatt opened it. I got out and looked up at him, rubbing my arm. “You’re leaving?” Why did I suddenly not want him to?

  He paused for a heartbeat. “Do you need me to stay?”

  Need? No. I didn’t need anything from anyone ever. That was the point of everything. “I’m good. But I don’t think you should have to walk home.”

  “I’m two blocks away.”

  “Oh.”

  He offered me a strange smile. “You sure you’re—”

  “Don’t ask if I’m okay again. I’m not. You were there tonight. It’s not something you can just be okay with. But I’ll be fine.”

  “Good enough.” He seemed to want to say more, but then closed his mouth and shook his head.

  “What?”

  He let out a nervous laugh. “Mr. and Mrs. Fields wanted me to make sure you’re all right, so how about I just…leave you my number?”

  I leaned back against the car. The garage lights had started to dim, but I could still see his shy expression and the slight reddening on the tips of his ears. One seemed to stick out from his head slightly more than the other, giving him an endearing and slightly imperfect look. The garage door closed on its own, the lights blinking out. I could still make out his silhouette.

  “Wyatt?”

  “Yes?” In the dark I could hear the smile in his voice. I walked to the wall, and in my fumbling to find the light switch, I accidentally hit the door open button. The lights turned on again anyway. I faced him. “Is that an attempt to give me your number?”

  He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck while he looked at the ground. “Did it work?” He glanced up at me.

  I shouldn’t get attached to anyone. But I was nearly sixteen. I’d likely be on my own in two years. Maybe it was time to start making relationships that might last. Not that this one would. Just the thought made the possibility of making friends more real.

  Something about him made me feel comfortable. I pulled out my phone. “What’s the number?”

  His eyebrows popped up for a moment, then he rattled off the number, and I entered it into my phone.

  “You going to call me with yours?”

  I pocketed my phone and smiled. “If I need to.”

  “Fair enough.” He smiled. “Night, Ava.” He headed out of the garage as the light started to dim again.

  I stared at his back as he walked away, and a memory slammed into me—one of my own. He’d run to the cars, and I’d seen blood on his T-shirt. He’d shielded me. He wore his hoodie now, but I distinctly remembered seeing blood. Why hadn’t he said anything? Did he hate hospitals, too? I couldn’t let him leave if he was hurt—I clutched my hands to my chest and my throat tightened—especially if he’d been hurt on my behalf. I picked up my cemented feet and followed him. The hoodie he wore was a dark blue; I couldn’t tell now if blood had soaked through.

  “Wyatt!” I raced after him, stopping the garage door from closing. He turned in the driveway, and I caught up to him.

  A deep, ferocious barking came from the house, Ajax keeping watch.

  I stopped in front of Wyatt. “You got hurt at the accident site.”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  Something heavy seemed to settle in my stomach. “I saw the blood on your shirt.

  He unzipped the hoodie to reveal darkened blood on the front of his T-shirt. “Danny’s blood got on me. I—I didn’t get hurt.”

  Not possible. I glanced down at the bloodstain on my throbbing knee. I’d knelt in shards of car parts. There was no way he’d escaped injury. Why would he lie? My heart beat faster. I nodded slowly and darted behind him. Sure enough, a couple spots of dried blood on his hoodie called his bluff. “There’s blood on your shirt. You afraid of a little hydrogen peroxide?”

  His look showed concern for me. “Ava, I didn’t get hurt.” He pulled up his shirt to reveal his back. Nothing. No cuts. No scratches. No gashes. The sensation of tiny pinpricks flushed through my veins and I felt dizzy. I had seen the blood. I’d—black spots started to overtake my vision.

  He faced me and gripped my upper arms, offering steady support. “Ava?”

  Slowly, the spots started to clear, and I stared into those eyes. What was wrong with me? Had I imagined that, too? I backed away from the comfort of his touch. “My mistake. Everything happened so fast.”

  A crease formed between his eyebrows. “You sure you’re okay alone?”

  “Yeah.” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. “I should get Ajax to calm down.”

  Wyatt studied me through squinted eyes. “He’s not barking anymore.”

  Right. Of course not. I swallowed through the tightening in my throat. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  He nodded once, still watching me like I might topple over. “You call me if you need anything. Okay?” He smiled, weak and unsure.

  Yeah, he was hiding something. Big time. And now I was curious enough to want to know what.

  Chapter Four

  Ava

  I stepped inside and dropped Da
ve’s keys into the drawer of the little table by the door, trying to make sense of everything. Was I remembering things that hadn’t happened now? I swallowed as my throat started to squeeze. What was wrong with me?

  Ajax nuzzled into me, sniffing like I was his lifeline to information. I wandered into the Fields’ stainless-steel-everything kitchen and grabbed a half-empty gallon of milk from the fridge. Ajax’s nose was still all over me.

  I pushed his huge head away, more focused on my own thoughts than anything else. “I get it. I smell like blood. Okay. I’ll shower. Just let me have a drink of something.” I set a glass on the counter and he whined. “I’m sorry, boy. I just—” What I had seen had to be explainable. Right? I climbed onto the counter to get myself a tall glass from the top shelf. “Ouch.” Sharp pain stabbed my knee.

  I jumped down, glass in hand. It banged against the granite countertop and shattered. Ears laid back, Ajax raced out of the room. My hands shook as I stared at broken glass on the floor. Light reflected in every piece, magnifying the mess. The shards had boxed me against the counter, except I’d broken a house rule and still wore my shoes.

  I stared at the mess and rubbed trembling hands over my face. Could nothing go right? I just needed sleep. And for Danny to come home. When they found out he’d skidded because I was crossing the street, they hadn’t even been mad at me. They’d comforted me. Told me it wasn’t my fault. It was an accident.

  I sank into a crouch, absently picking up the big pieces, and my knee hurt again. Surprised at the amount of pain, I slid to the floor and planted my palm on a glass shard as I tried to stop myself from falling. Seriously?

  I pried the glass out of my hand and grabbed a paper towel for the blood that gushed out. Then I checked my knee. A shiny silver piece of metal had embedded in the cut. That needed to come out. I headed to the bathroom for tweezers. Every touch sent a twinge of pain though my knee, but I pulled. The metal slid free and blood oozed, staining my exercise pants even worse. A drip of red rolled down my shin.