Phoenix Rising (8 page)

He found his shoes under the bed, slipped them on, searched briefly for his gun without luck, and decided he could live without it if it meant getting away. Artemis’s cell said it was nearly 2:00 a.m., and he still had no signal. He turned it off to save power.

The door opened without difficulty, and he found himself stepping out into a huge room, about a hundred feet by sixty, marble floors dotted with area rugs that looked Persian or, perhaps, considering where he was, they were made locally. In any case, they were ornate, thick, and looked expensive. On one side was a large, padded cube about three feet high, and behind that a wall of glass. Chairs and couches were scattered across the space. On the wall opposite him were other doors. Artemis got the idea that this room was the heart of the house, and the rest was built around it in a U shape.

He paused, listening, and heard nothing. Walking on light feet, hardly making a sound, he moved out from under the overhang and glanced up in surprise. The ceiling was glass or Plexiglas or plastic; he glimpsed the moon, now almost hidden beneath thickening clouds, and an occasional star gleaming here and there.

That had to have cost a small fortune, and the effect was amazing. He wanted to lie down on one of the couches, his head on a pillow, and simply gaze at the sky, but he had more important things on his mind, like getting back home. In the section directly opposite the glass wall was a foyer and what he assumed was the front door. He hurried to it, yanked it open impatiently, and stepped outside.

Tents dotted the landscape, and people huddled around flickering fires. The sound of someone playing a guitar drifted to him on the light breeze, as did the smell of cooking food. Above his head, fluttering from a pole, a flag snapped in that same breeze. On it was a golden bird, wings spread against a black background.

Before he could take even one step, a shadow detached itself from darker shadows near the wall, and Artemis saw a weapon being pointed at him. “Please to return inside,” a man said.

Artemis briefly considered utilizing his police antipersonnel training to disarm and overpower the guard but finally judged the risk of danger to himself was too great. “I’m a prisoner here,then?”

The man waved the rifle barrel at him. “Inside.” “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Artemis stepped back through the door and turned to

He inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of that. “I shall accompany you to your room.”
They began walking. “Where’s Talis?”
“Resting. Phoenix has a full day tomorrow.”
“Right.” Artemis frowned. “More kidnap victims on the

way, no doubt. Other soul mates to fuck with.”
“I understand your anger and frustration,” Ammon said,
“but it would be best if you accepted the situation, at least
for the next several weeks. You will not be harmed. He
wishes only that you get to know him.” They reached the
bedroom door and stopped. “He knew this could not happen
if you remained in New York.”
“He admitted to murdering those men.”
Ammon pushed the door open and stood aside so
Artemis might enter. “I am sure he did no such thing.” “He said he needed their essence to remain human.” “Each time he was given a soul, he mourned afterward
at the cost of acquiring it. It is against his nature to kill. You
do not yet fully understand.” Ammon gestured toward the
room. “Sleep, Detective. You are in no danger, and those you
care for back home know you are safe. Talis made sure of
that.”

A
RTEMIS
paced, walking from the bed to the door to the bathroom, over and over again, anxiety making it impossible to sleep. Despite Ammon’s assurance, he worried about Rachel and what she would be thinking of his disappearance. The department would be in an uproar, and they would have issued an APB on Talis. Lt. Numbnuts would contact Liz Blackstone at Interpol. The news would soon go ’round the world, and Talis would be safe nowhere.

“What could he have been thinking, kidnapping a homicide cop?” Artemis talked to himself as he walked, head down, hands in his pockets. “That would hardly escape notice. I disappear, he disappears…. Jesus, the stupidest beat cop could figure that out.”

His mom would freak when they told her he was missing, but at least she’d have William to comfort her. Rachel would miss him, but she’d have Steve.

The thought of having no one caused tears to prick his eyes. “Oh, that’s good. Now you can feel sorry for yourself on top of everything else.”

Exhausted, he threw himself on his stomach on the bed. Candles flickered wildly as he passed.
Was his old life over, then? Would he never walk through Times Square at midnight again? Never chase a perp across Central Park at dawn while adrenaline sent him flying in pursuit? And how sad was it that the only things he thought of were related to his job?
He wanted to shriek in frustration.
Well, why not? Why the fuck not?
Sitting up, he opened his mouth and screamed. He did it until he ran out of breath, eyes squeezed shut, hands plastered over his ears, and when he fell silent and the echoes died, he heard birdsong.
It came through the walls, insidious and persistent, and it was the sweetest song he’d ever heard. Clear and beautiful, it wrapped itself around him like a silken cocoon, draining him of emotion.
He lay down again, letting the enchanting golden notes wash over and through him, stilling his nerves, quieting his mind. Images of wildflower meadows drenched in sunlight went through his head.
He slept.

T
ALIS
woke at dawn. After singing Artemis to sleep as Phoenix, he’d returned to human form and slept dreamlessly, happy to be home. Of all his palaces around the worldand there were manythis was one of his favorites. It was secluded, yet when the flag was raised, the word quickly went out and people began to come. Kathmandu was a crossroads, and the city retained enough mysticism and energy to draw them from all over the world. They arrived by car and camper, horse, oxen, and on foot, and camped in front of the door until Phoenix was ready to greet them.

The Phoenix did not exist merely to be beautiful, although in a world bereft, that was enough. He had a purpose, and soon he would be called upon to fulfill it.

Ammon appeared, wheeling a cart bearing plenty of food; what the Phoenix did required much energy.
“Is he awake yet?” Talis asked, helping himself to Turkish coffee.
“No.” Ammon handed Talis a plate of fruit. “If I may… he is frightened, and because he is a policeman who should be brave, he does not know how to deal with that.”
“Cops don’t feel fear?”
“Not this one, not usually. My guess is he conquered it long ago, or so he believes.”
“Ammon, you are a poet, a visionary, a philosopher.” Smiling, Talis bit into a juicy peach, reveling in its taste and texture. “He need never fear me.”
“He does not yet know that.”
Nodding, Talis finished the peach and bit into a crisp apple. He never tired of things that most humans took for granted. He gloried in every minute of every day he was human. “Are they beginning to come?”
Ammon did not ask to whom he referred. “Already they line up outside, awaiting your presence.”
“I will go to them shortly.” He turned to eggs and ham and whole wheat toast, eating with gusto. Always on days like this, he ate far more than he wanted to, in order to be ready to serve. “I wish to see Artemis before I begin.”
Ammon nodded. “I will prepare the room as you do so.”
Talis dressed in loose white pants and padded barefoot to Artemis’s room, letting himself in soundlessly. The room swam in shadows, all but two candles burned out, the heavy drapes still drawn shut at the windows.
The cop was still asleep but twitching as if he were having bad dreams. Standing at the foot of the bed, Talis began to sing, almost under his breath. His human voice was not as bewitching as that of the Phoenix, but it had power nonetheless.
Artemis quieted, rolling onto his back, his face smoothing. Talis gazed at him and smiled. He was so beautiful, so dark and pure and shining with inner light. His friends and family wouldn’t see that, but Talis did.
Talis could not resist him. He moved close enough to touch Artemis’s thigh, buried under rumpled covers, and felt a jolt of energy flash through him
Closing his eyes briefly, he let out a small breath as he hardened. He loved it, loved that feeling, loved the sensations it engendered in him. The Phoenix, created by gods, did not enjoy this base emotion, this very human longing, need, and desire.
Artemis was meant for Talis. He’d been born to be Talis's lover… his savior.
Talis continued singing softly, urging Artemis to remain asleep, to dream, to feel safe.

The bird form felt more and more alien to him, though he had spent nearly one thousand years feathered and winged.
Talis
was who he wanted to be.
Human
was what he was meant to be.

With Ammon trailing closely behind, Phoenix strode majestically to the receiving room, claws clicking on the tile, where he hopped up on the cube before the glass wall that looked toward the west. Feathers ruffling, he settled himself for the long day ahead.

The sky above him was lightening toward blue as the sun rose in the east. The glass would have to be adjusted later, just as it was in a greenhouse, to prevent the room from becoming too hot.

No matter how many times he did this, he always looked forward to it, never knowing what to expect but knowing that certain great things would transpire.

“Bring him when he has dressed and eaten,” Phoenix said to Ammon, using his beak to straighten one errant feather.

“It shall be done.”
Phoenix gazed at the far door. “Let them in.”
Ammon signaled to the guards, and the door was

thrown open. The first person through was a young girl with a cane. She moved slowly, bent to one side at the waist, eyes wide and staring. Behind her were many others.

Ammon spoke. “Please come in. The Phoenix will see you all, so there is no need to push or run.”
As they filled the room, they sat upon the couches and chairs and even on the rugs. Some walked, some were helped by others, some sat in wheelchairs, and some were carried in. Their clothing whispered as they moved, but their mouths remained closed, perhaps in deference to the creature that awaited them.
Most of them would have heard rumors of a giant bird that could heal and had come after being failed by everyone else. A very few knew who Phoenix was because a relative or friend had visited before them. In any case, they all wanted something from him.
Phoenix scanned the room, noting their expressions, which ranged from awestruck to desperate. Still they did not speak, but waited. The very air seemed to pulse with anticipation.
Ammon spoke once more. “Do not use cameras or other recording devices. They will fail you.” He smiled without humor. “If any of you should need anything, please raise your hand and I will come to you. A restroom is there.” Ammon pointed to a blue door. “Water is available, and food if you should require it.”
A woman’s voice was heard. “How much does this cost?”
Phoenix followed the words to a middle-aged woman sitting in a wheelchair. “What is your health worth to you?”
No one said a word. Possibly the phenomenon of a talking bird made them tongue tied.
Phoenix went on. “You are here for many reasons, and I don’t need or want to know what they are. You may be a good person, or you may be bad; that is not my concern. I do not judge.
“I may be myth, I may be legend, I may be a story your grandmother whispered in your ear when you were three, but I am real.
“What does this cost?” The muscles beside his beak pulled upward, giving him the semblance of smiling. “You will pay what you can afford, no more and no less. There is a basket on a table beside the door through which you entered. As you leave, put in it what feels right. This might be money, this might be a trinket you are fond of, or it might be gems or candy or buttons off a coat. No one will question it.” Phoenix resettled himself.
“We begin.”

H
E WOKE
suddenly, heart racing as he remembered where he was, and why. He pushed back the covers and slid out of bed, noticing instantly the cart near the door. Food and drink were on it. Someone had drawn back the curtains, and light flooded the room.

Hands on the windowsill, he looked out, noting the soaring mountains all around. Talis’s home was in a valley, which made sense, as that would afford him a certain security. If threatened, however, he could simply… fly away. What must that feel like, to fly? He’d often wondered as a kid, watching the eagles soaring above the trees in the Upper Peninsula, banking left, then right, outstretched feathers glinting under a cold sun.

He had heard no one enter or leave, so perhaps the smell of coffee had drawn him from sleep. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he settled in the chair Talis/Phoenix had used earlier and helped himself to breakfast.

His appetite was good, and he ate with gusto, enjoying the well-prepared food. Talis certainly lived well, and why shouldn’t he? His alter ego was a mythological creature the world had spoken of for years, but whose existence had never been confirmed. Why was that?

If the phoenix lived, if he was out there doing things, why had no one posted pictures of him on the internet? Why had no movies been made about the mystical bird along the lines of Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster? How had he maintained media silence all these years?

He discovered that new, neatly folded clothing had been left in place of the shirt and pants he’d arrived in. After his shower, he put them on, unsurprised to find they fit him well. Talis and he were much the same height and body type. He fingered the finely woven material with pleasure. Black in color, they draped the lines of his body sensuously.