Stealing Phoenix by Joss Stirling
‘My brother, Xav, he’s in London with me.’
‘Xav?’ I made myself concentrate on what Yves was telling me.
‘Yeah, my mom and dad had this alphabetical thing going with us, starting with Trace and ending with Zed. Xavier, he’s the next one up from me. We told them they should’ve started with “A” and then we could all have been things like Alan, David, and Ben, but they thought that was too boring. Mom and Dad can be like that—you know, different to make a point.’ He paused, realizing he was drifting off message. ‘Xav’s a healer, not that you’d guess that, terrible bedside manner. I’m taking you to see him. You won’t have to put a foot in a medical practice.’ Stopping at the kerb, he hailed a taxi. One cruised up to us immediately—such was this boy’s luck. ‘Take us to the Barbican, please.’
Reassured, I got into the taxi without a fuss. I knew the Barbican well: a concrete maze of arts centre, walkways, tunnels and posh flats, good for picking the pockets of late-night theatre and concert-goers. If I could have some attention paid to my burn, I still stood a good chance of getting away from him there.
Yves stretched his legs into the wide space in front of the rear seat. I’d never been in a taxi before; it felt really decadent, the kind of thing only rich people did. A cyclist flashed by in lemon sherbet shorts, zipping through the traffic like a stone skipping on the sea.
‘He’s really annoyed with me,’ Yves continued, making conversation when I clearly wouldn’t. ‘He’s spent all morning chatting up a guide at the Globe Theatre and now he’s having to dump her just when things were looking promising.’
‘He shouldn’t—not for me.’
‘Course he should. You’re mine, so that makes you family. Our need is greater than his.’ Yves put his arm around my shoulders. Something inside me broke a little and craving for his warmth seeped out. I tried to ignore it, holding myself stiff against the seat back. ‘Don’t you have brothers or sisters?’
Everything was so easy for him. You took a complete stranger and called her one of your inner circle, all because, by a quirk of nature, we were matched at some genetic level. The only things he knew about me were bad, but still I deserved to be helped. I folded a little deeper into myself, a rock pool sea anemone refusing to be poked into emerging by his prodding questions.
‘I wish Sky was here,’ he murmured to himself, looking out of the window at the traffic slowly forcing its way into the City. ‘She’d be able to help.’
I’d vowed not to speak but my curiosity (or was it jealousy?) got the better of me. ‘Who’s Sky?’
He pulled me closer to his side, hoping I’d relax against him but I kept the steel in my spine. ‘My youngest brother’s soulfinder. She’s British.’
‘Oh.’ Probably one of those pretty English rose types that I saw at Liverpool Street station going to music festivals in their wellies, rucksacks, and denim shorts, looking so unbearably pleased to be young and alive. With one glance, she’d know what a skank I was.
‘She sees people’s emotions. Makes her really intuitive. And she’s come from a rough place. I think she’d understand you better than any of us.’
Yeah right. ‘But she’s not here?’
‘No, she’s on vacation with Zed and her parents.’
There you go: Sky had parents. That made her housetrained; I was feral.
The cab pulled up in one of the underpasses below the Barbican Centre.
The driver held out a hand. ‘We’re here, mate. That’s six pounds forty.’
Yves pulled a tenner out of his wallet and handed it over, barely paying attention to the exchange. ‘Will you tell me something about yourself, Phee? I want to know where you’re coming from.’
I couldn’t believe it: he was getting out of the cab without waiting for his change. I pulled him back and shoved my hand in the little gap to collect the coins. The driver gave a snort of disgust as I pressed the lot in Yves’s palm. ‘You can’t give him three-sixty as a tip.’
Yves tipped the coins back into the plastic tray. ‘Yeah I can. Leave it, Phee—it’s not a big deal.’
Still spluttering at the careless waste of money, I stumbled out on to the pavement. Cars whizzed by, the noise reverberating in the tunnel so that any further protests would be lost. Our disagreement about the tip only served to highlight just how different we were. What was I doing with him?
Follow me. Yves held out a hand, expecting me to take it.
I had had enough of being pushed about, towed here, shoved there. Lead the way, O master.
He raised an eyebrow at my sarcasm. Glad to see you have seen the light. I only want what’s best for you.
Mr Arrogant or what?
I don’t mean it like that. He shook his head, telling himself off. I just want to make this right but I seem to be doing it all wrong.
Then let me go.
That would be a tragedy. Give me a chance here. Please. His uncertainty around girls had returned; he was no longer taking my agreement for granted, and that, more than anything, made me relent.
OK. Until my hand is seen to. Then we’ll go from there.
Digging a key out of his jacket pocket, he guided me up a short flight of steps to the bottom of the Shakespeare tower, a great, brutal razorblade of a skyscraper. Looking up made me feel sick, as if the whole thing was going to fall on us. He called the lift then fitted the key in the residents’ slot to allow us to go up to the twentieth floor.
‘I thought you lived in America?’ I asked.
‘Borrowed the apartment off a friend of one of my brothers.’ He tapped the wall restlessly as the numbers flashed past.
‘Which one? Wilbur? Walt?’
He smiled. ‘Not a bad guess. Victor. I don’t have a brother called Wilbur or Walt—just Will. You’ll like him.’
‘If I ever have kids,’ which I wouldn’t,‘I’m going to call them really simple things like that. Names that are so normal no one will blink when they answer the register at school or … or get a library card.’
He laughed a little awkwardly. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean. I got teased for having a girl’s name—you know, Eve— by morons in my first grade. My mom and dad plucked names from their ancestors all over the world for their sons—most Savant families are really international—and I had to suffer for it. Phoenix must have been a burden at school until, I suppose, it became cool to be different.’
I shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know. Never went to school that I can remember.’
The doors ‘ting’-ed open, a bright sound like the bell at the end of a round in a boxing match.
‘How … but surely you have to go to school in England? Everyone does.’ He led the way into the carpeted corridor.
‘Hmm.’ That’s how much he knew about those of us off the map.
‘But you know things—you’ve read Peter Pan.’
‘And Wendy. I didn’t say I didn’t have lessons. You can learn a lot if you want to.’ If you were starved of knowledge, desperate to join the normal world. Mum had taught me all the basics before she died. After she’d gone, if I finished my job for the day, I would sneak into the children’s section of the city library, using my gift to freeze my way past the women on the desk, and read my way through from beginning to the end of the shelves. These days I could go into the adult section without anyone questioning my right to be there. I got a fair bit of random stuff into my skull that way.
‘I suppose you can.’ He put the key in the lock of the last door in the corridor and entered. The flat was one of those all-white places that look good in magazines but must be horrible for real people to live in: white carpet, white furniture, black highlights of African carvings and an expensive sound system. ‘Hey, Xav, we’re back!’
The fact that he knew his brother was already there suggested he had been talking telepathically to him since we came in range. Xav came out of the room on our right, drying his hands on a black towel. His resemblance to his brother was immediately apparent, though his hair was longer, more
‘You told him about me?’ I hissed, refusing to enter the bathroom until I knew exactly what I was walking into.
‘Only your name and that you got burned by one of my fires.’ Yves gently prodded me between my shoulder blades. ‘Didn’t want to distract him with the rest until he’s seen to your hand. Let’s not keep the doctor waiting.’
Xav had put a stool in front of the sink for me to sit on. Yves hovered at my shoulder as his brother carefully pushed up my sleeve and unwrapped my bandage. Xav didn’t say anything for a few moments as he turned my arm over to inspect the ugly yellow-white blister on my palm.
‘Sheesh, Yves, I thought you grew out of playing with fire.’
‘Don’t rub it in. You know I try.’ Yves’s temper was simmering again.
‘This needs a hospital.’ Xav glared at his brother.
‘She won’t go.’
The glare now turned on me. ‘You’re an idiot, do you know that? I can help but I can’t see how deep this has gone. Does it hurt?’ His touch was soothing.
I bit my lip and nodded.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s good.’ Xav winked at me, softening the ‘idiot’ remark. ‘If it was really deep then no pain is a danger signal.’ He covered my hand with his. Not trusting what he was doing, I searched his mind patterns; I watched them shift to a soothing blue. I could see my arm in his thoughts, layer by layer, bone, nerves, muscle and skin, like an illustration in Gray’s Anatomy. He really was trying to heal me. I wondered what it was going to cost.
Yves moved around behind us quietly, disappearing into the kitchen, muttering something about making drinks for us and putting together a round of sandwiches. The calm after the confusion of the past twenty-four hours was a welcome oasis. I found some of my tension untwisting like a tie-dye T-shirt coming out of the wash to reveal a new pattern on the surface. I had a soulfinder. I’d been in such a panic about discovering this that I’d not really stopped to think. I’d been acting like someone carrying the plague trying to cut themselves off from the healthy. That was still probably the right thing to do, but I had to consider this more slowly, work out what was the next best step. I’d only had an hour or so with him, but already it felt so good to be close to Yves that even when he was in the kitchen I was missing him. Though he irritated the hell out of me, I kind of liked it. The sparks of attraction flew between us even when we were yelling at each other. Maybe even more so then.
‘Does that feel any better?’ Xav released my arm.
The blister had shrivelled up to lie flat against the new skin forming underneath. The redness had faded. I flexed my fingers to find that the tight pain I’d had since yesterday was almost completely dulled. ‘That’s amazing.’
‘Happy to help.’ He took out a dressing from a first-aid kit. ‘I’ll put this on your blister but I think the rest of the arm will be OK.’ He fastened it with tape then stood back, rubbing his temples.
‘Are you OK, Doctor?’
He laughed. ‘Bad headache. Get them when I push my gift.’
‘So do I.’ It slipped out before I realized what I’d said.
Xav didn’t seem surprised that I was another Savant. ‘What do you do? Not put out fires obviously.’
I pretended to examine my new dressing. ‘This and that.’
‘She stops time—or slows it.’ Yves had appeared in the door to see if we were done.
‘Neat.’ Xav chucked the old bandage in the bin. ‘Useful.’
‘Yeah, allows her to be one of the sharpest thieves I’ve ever seen in action.’
‘Shut up!’ I hissed, outraged that he would share this about me.
‘Oh yes, and she’s my soulfinder. Lunch is served.’ After dropping that bombshell, Yves headed back to the kitchen.
Xav was speechless. He stared at me as if I’d just crash-landed from a flying saucer.
‘Phee, Xav, hurry up or I’ll eat it all,’ shouted the jerk from the kitchen.
Xav patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘You have my commiserations. He may act like a twit sometimes, but he’s the nice one in our family, so it could’ve been worse.’
I locked the door after Xav, saying I needed a moment, then sank to the floor, head on my knees. Not even hunger was going to drive me out of here. If I had Yves’s power, I’d blow up that plate of sandwiches and make sure it splattered all over his face. But all I had was a gift that didn’t work too well on him, not even giving me enough time to escape.
A tap on the door. ‘Phee, are you OK in there?’ Yves.
I banged my head softly on the wood behind me.
‘Look, sorry I came out with it like that. I tell my brothers everything—we’re really close. I should’ve thought what you might think.’
Yeah, you should’ve.
‘He won’t mind if I don’t mind—about the stealing thing.’
Well done him. God, I was so tired of all this. Yves had clearly not smoothed out his rough edges when it came to handling girls if he thought this excuse for an apology would sweeten my sour mood. A trickle of flame poured under the door then spun to form a little ball of fire. Was he trying to burn me out? I yelped and scurried backwards, but then saw that the carpet was not even singed.
‘For you,’ said Yves quietly.
The ball began to spin faster, then split into three different spheres, flame-yellow, white-hot, and blue like a gas ring— three little planets revolving around each other. Suddenly, they flared open, forming into the shape of flowers in bloom. They came to rest at my feet like lilies on a pool before snuffing out of existence, leaving only a faint smell of smoke behind. Nothing was damaged; not even a soot mark on the floor where they had been.
I was stunned: no one had ever given me flowers before. That had been awesome; I’d never thought to create something beautiful out of my powers but Yves must have spent a long time honing his skill to do so.
‘Come out when you’re ready,’ he said, retreating to the kitchen.
I sat for a few more minutes, brushing my hand over the spot on the carpet in front of me. Staying locked in Yves’s bathroom wasn’t really a good plan: I’d have to emerge eventually. The longer I left it, the harder it would be. I quietly opened the door and went into the corridor.
The entrance to the kitchen was diagonally across from the bathroom. I could hear the boys talking but they couldn’t see me. I had no qualms about eavesdropping—I had to know what they really thought of me before I decided my next move.
‘All I can say, little brother, is that, after years of faultless living, when you get into trouble you do it properly.’ Xav poured himself a glass of water from the dispenser on the spaceship-sized refrigerator. Ice clunked into his glass with the noisy whirr of some machine in the enormous door. ‘If it had been Zed, Trace, or Vick, I’d’ve understood, but you!’
‘We don’t choose our soulfinders.’ Yves sounded more distant; I guessed he must be at the far side of the room.
‘Are you sure it’s her? I mean, she doesn’t look a likely match for you, not like Zed and Sky.’
‘Come on, there was nothing obvious about them at first either—they grew together.’ Yves’s tone was doubly defensive. ‘That’s how it’ll be for us.’
‘You hope. You didn’t say if you were sure. I mean, don’t take offence, Yves, but I know you haven’t dated that many girls and I thought, maybe, you were, like, getting mixed up.’ Something went ‘bang’ and I heard Xav swear as he put out some flames. ‘Holy cow, that was my doughnut you just nuked!’
‘Back off, Xav! Just because I’m not the Super Bowl champion in serial dating like you! I know what I feel when I’m see
‘No, I don’t know—I’ve not found mine, have I?’
‘Sorry.’ A cupboard door snapped shut.
‘No problem, I’m not offended. Hey, I think I might be the lucky one today. She’s … she’s not what I expected. Weird looking—those funny glasses and clothes like something our grandma would wear. I thought there’d be some kind of chemistry, you know, with a soulfinder.’
‘I guess.’ A chair scraped on the floor. ‘She didn’t look like that yesterday—I’m not sure what’s the real her at all. I think I’m in over my head. She’s got issues—and issues under those issues. She won’t tell me much about herself: all I’ve got so far is a name and the fact that she’s never been to school.’
‘And that she’s a professional thief—don’t forget that choice bit of information. If you keep in mind the other reason why we’re here, don’t you think it odd that she zeroed in on you as her target?’
Other reason? I shrank back against the wall.
‘Yes, I know: we’ll have to ask her about that. I will, but it’s all so complicated at the moment. She doesn’t trust me. What time is Vick getting back from his meeting at Scotland Yard?’
‘About six. You’ve got five hours to work out if she is going to be a security risk or not, then we’ll have to turn her over to him to check out.’
‘She’s not going to like that.’
Too right. She definitely didn’t like the sound of that. She had decided she was out of the front door on the first mention of the police. I crept backwards, hoping the sound of my footfalls would be absorbed by the carpet. The front door was locked and bolted. I could undo all the locks but the very top one, which was out of my reach. I looked around for something to stand on but this arty flat didn’t run to normal bits of furniture, only glass shelving that was fixed to the wall.