Phoenix13: Resurrection (Phoenix13 Book 3)

Part #13: Not Easily Conquered: Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Kalligan had barely straightened up when someone kicked open the left door. The men were in the hall so fast he didn't have time to individually catalogue their faces; they immediately made for the three Phoenixes currently sleeping—Bree, Ariel, and Sterling—with guns, knives, and teeth bared. Although Bree was immediately on her feet, knife drawn and ready for a fight, it was too late. They were surrounded.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Kalligan raised his hands. He looked to his left to see if Roxanne had done the same. To his surprise, she was nowhere to be seen. He allowed himself a moment to glance around; it seemed she had slipped away into the shadows as soon as the men entered the hall. Good. At least now they had the advantage of an unknown fifth player on their side.

"You!" The man who was clearly the group's leader pointed at Kalligan, his finger shaking and his eyes narrowed accusatorily. "You know where the Nythriam is?"

It was phrased like a question, but Kalligan wasn't quite sure if that was what it was. So he shrugged uncomfortably, doing his best not to make any sudden or suspicious movements. The last thing he needed was to spook the men covering his friends and get one or all of them shot or stabbed. When it became clear that the angry, shaking man was looking for a clearer confirmation, Kalligan answered, "I met the Nythriam of Amaranth, but I lost track of her. Her role in Deyanira's ritual is over. I don't know where she is now. Sorry."

The leader of the men spat to one side. He advanced into the thin, watery light sliding through a cracked glass window high above the hall. In the dim illumination, Kalligan could see that he was young and ruggedly handsome. The way he dressed and his accent when he spoke Truce reminded Kalligan of the citizens of New York he'd seen at various tournaments and cross-national events back in Nathandra. In the breast pocket of his fancy, high-fashion red-leather vest was a pack of cigarettes. Half of them were missing.

Kalligan lifted his chin and held his ground. Normally, his heart would be pounding and his veins flooded with adrenaline. But now, without the hamper of mortality weighing him down, he felt oddly calm. I'm a god, he reminded himself. I'm not even sure these guys can hurt me.

But they could still hurt the Phoenixes. That was the only reason Kalligan hadn't thrown himself into the fray and ripped the intruders to shreds already. Based on the hot pulsing of power just beneath his skin, it would be easy enough. The only problem would be getting rid of the attackers before they turned their weapons on Bree or Sterling, or, more likely, went after the helpless and half-conscious Ariel.

Kalligan decided he needed to lure them away from his friends. If he could just get the rest of the thugs to pay as much attention to him as their leader ...

"You met the Nythriam?" The gang's leader reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a cigarette. He fished a lighter out of his jeans pocket and lit up. Smoke curled out of his nose as he exhaled with the little white stick of tobacco between his lips. "When? Where? What does she look like? I want details. Now, or they die!" He jerked one thumb over his shoulder at Bree and Sterling, who were standing back-to-back over Ariel's limp form, facing their attackers.

Kalligan turned his palms out: a placating gesture. "Okay, okay! Don't hurt them; I'll tell you. I first met the Nythriam in Varadrín about a month ago. She's taken the form of a young girl—maybe sixteen or seventeen, appearance-wise. She's got light skin, long white hair, and different-colored eyes: one blue, one brown."

"When did you last see her?" The gang leader took another step closer. He was only feet away from Kalligan now, bearing down on him like a lion staring down a coyote over a fresh kill. "Tell me!" He raised a gun, cocking it. His finger hovered over the trigger. The end of the barrel was aimed directly between Kalligan's eyes, a clear message: If you don't give me what I want, you die.