 
Crucible (A Phoenix Novella)

By Claire Farrell

*Best read after Demon Dog (VBI #1) and before Tethers (Lost Souls #2)*

When an incident on werewolf territory leads to a human death, Phoenix flees with the culprit. He thinks he's on a quest to save a life, but he slowly discovers a part of his past that had been erased forever.

Copyright © Claire Farrell

Claire_farrell@live.ie

Cover by Yocla Designs

Licence Notes:

All rights reserved. This eBook may not be re-sold.

Chapter One

"Point made, Sparky." Phoenix wrinkled his nose and crossed out some entries on the list laying on the countertop. "We probably shouldn't try any more fruit."

The apple had been flung in the air like a ball, whereas the banana had been slowly chewed then spat out at his feet—while maintaining eye contact. Other fruit had triggered a more visceral reaction. He couldn't tell if the fruit was actually toxic or if the creature sitting on his kitchen floor had forced herself to puke out of protest, but either way, he wasn't going to repeat the test. Both of his adult children had vanished after the vomit incident, leaving him to clean it up.

He gave the creature one last hard look, trying to gauge if she were likely to throw up again. She was rolling on her back as if scratching an itch, so he supposed not. Sparky was likely a demon, and an ugly one at that. She resembled part dog, part gremlin, and even had a horn on her snout. For a year, she had been under the care of a six-year-old who assumed she had a pet dog on her hands. That was how strange the world had become.

He found some cleaning materials, filled up a basin with hot soapy water, and set to work. He didn't mind the labour. His childhood had been privileged, but the people who cleaned up after him had been forced into a life of indentured servitude by his mother, one time leader of the fae and member of the old ruling supernatural Council of Ireland. He hadn't been allowed to lift a finger in front of her. Cleaning was now comforting, something he could control.

He wasn't sure if that had something to do with the section of his past he couldn't remember, or if he was still rebelling against everything his mother had deemed beneath him. Not that she could touch him now. He had taken her life, after all.

"Are you ready to try something else, Sparky?" he asked when he finished cleaning. "I think you might enjoy the next test."

Sparky didn't look impressed. As a member of the Senate who now dealt with supernatural creatures in Ireland, Phoenix should really have made her existence public and then taken measures to exterminate, but the creature had saved the child who cared for her from a dangerous demon. He felt obliged to give her another chance. The tests were a stopgap in a greater scheme.

He opened up the fridge and pulled out some raw and cooked meats. Sparky leapt onto the counter before Phoenix could lay the food.

"Hmm." Phoenix smirked. "So you don't live on treats that a child has sneaked outside to you." He cut off a piece of raw steak followed by some from the cooked leftovers. He left both in front of Sparky. "Now. Which do you like best?"

Spark used her unicorn horn to steal both larger chunks of meat from the plates then leapt off the counter and ran away with the food.

"You little..." Shaking his head, Phoenix jotted down some notes.

Although he planned on shipping the creature off to an expert, he had to admit to a fascination with Sparky. She was new, a missing link between worlds that had once crossed each other. A long time ago, demons had been trapped in books by a great deal of magic. A desperate man had gone through copious amounts of dark magic to open one of those books again. That was likely where Sparky had sprung from.

And yet she wasn't the demon the world imagined. She didn't hurt people; rather, she protected them. But if he shared news of her escape from the book with the rest of the Senate, they would out-vote him on the matter of her existence remaining permanent. The unknown was too terrifying, the world too unsettled. People were still rejoicing over the capture and death of the last discovered demon. What they didn't know was that Sparky had been the key to that particular success.

There was still so much to understand. Sparky had normal bodily functions and a tongue that had somehow dissipated the toxic saliva and blood from a demon who had hunted down pets and small children in a suburban neighbourhood. She had the potential to be useful. Just like the werewolves who had been sentenced to extinction so long ago. The secret pack that had been kept hidden was only alive because they had been useful. If he could prove that Sparky wasn't dangerous, that the country needed her help, then perhaps he could save her, too.

According to Gemma, the little girl who had been secretly feeding his new houseguest, Sparky had been attempting to drive a larger demon away. That particular demon had made the mistake of trying to hurt Gemma. In another time, that might have been enough to sway the rest of the Senate. But they were cautious and fearful, and frequently under watch from a higher power. Phoenix didn't have enough evidence to give his colleagues yet.

There were many evil beings in the world. Phoenix knew; his mother had been one of them. Her cruelties had kept her in power, while the hint of this creature's appearance—and more importantly, her possible release from a book that contained many demonic creatures—could lead to her execution without trial. Anyone capable of protecting a child from a predatory monster was okay in Phoenix's book, so he planned on doing his best to protect Sparky. His reasons weren't entirely noble. There had to be more demons who escaped from the book. Sparky had the potential to become Ireland's best defence—if he managed to keep her alive.

Phoenix had been forced to speak privately on behalf of a number of Irish supernatural creatures after the changeover of governments. If he hadn't, they would likely have been removed for the greater good. As much as he despised being a part of something so judgemental, his stepping down would endanger too many people that he and his children cared about. The appearance of a paragon had whipped up the Senate into a semi-hysterical frenzy. Until the world became a more broad-minded place, Phoenix would play the game for as long as it took.

He ran his long, slim fingers along the marble counter-top. He had allowed a human to redecorate the room in a modern style, but the outcome felt... sterile. It wasn't home to him, and he couldn't figure out why. Nobody else seemed to notice, but he felt uncomfortable in the room.

He took his notes and moved into the room he hadn't redecorated. Folsom, the goblin who had owned the house before his death, had made a crafting room for his wife. The atmosphere in that room sang to Phoenix. The fae prince found himself in his new office more often than not. Phoenix couldn't even remember why or how he had befriended Folsom, and the goblin had died before Phoenix discovered the truth about his missing past.

Or at least the important parts. His mother had separated him from his human witch wife and mixed-breed children. She had taken his memory of them and sent the twins to a slave market in Hell. And his wife had died not long after being reunited with them. He still couldn't remember her and never would. His memories had been destroyed completely.

Inside the office, Sparky was enthusiastically chewing on a chunk of meat. Lucia sat on the floor next to the creature. Her pale green eyes were cool and focused as she watched. Mute, she sometimes had visions that she could pass on to her twin brother who would retell them to those concerned. She had a way of sitting extremely still, of staring without blinking, that many found unsettling, but not Phoenix. He might not remember her birth, but he knew she was his child. He might as well have spit her brother out of his mouth, their physical resemblance was so close. Lorcan was more human than his sister, who had the air of the fae about her.

Phoenix moved to the chair behind the large desk he had moved in there. Lucia turned to look at him, unblinking. Finished with the food, Sparky rolled over and leaned against Lucia, careful not to stab his daughter with the pointed horn on her snout. The creature gazed at him, her golden eyes soft and human, somehow.

"Do you like her?" Phoenix asked.

Lucia slowly nodded her head. He was concerned about the fact she didn't speak. He hadn't yet figured out if she couldn't or wouldn't. Her lack of speech had kept Lorcan with her when they were for sale. It was possible that it had begun on purpose. Her mother was a witch; it wasn't so far off the realm of possibility to consider the fact that she had simply willed it so. But they had time to learn those things. Now they were all together again.

"Lucia! Have you seen my... oh." Lorcan had burst into the room, running his hands through his shorn black hair, but when he saw his father, he stopped. As usual.

"What have you lost?" Phoenix politely enquired. He didn't know how to talk to his son, not yet, but he would figure it out.

"Nothing."

Lucia made an exasperated sound with her tongue.

Grinning, Lorcan shrugged. "People will start to think you're missing Hell, Lu. Hanging out with a demon and falling for a hellhound makes it—" He let out a heavy whoosh of breath as a hardback book collided with his stomach. "Not fair," he barely managed to squeak. "I can't hit you back."

Phoenix sighed inwardly. The pair were regressing under his care. He was absolutely sure of it. But when Lorcan gave him a sharp, knowing look, he cleared his throat. "I've been thinking," he said.

Lorcan folded his arms across his chest, looking sullen.

"Sparky can't stay here forever. At least, not yet. There's an expert in demonology in Italy. Actually, she's researched a lot of issues that might be useful to us. I'm planning on taking Sparky there to be... studied. We could all go. Together. As a... as a family."

"Italy?" Lorcan scowled. "You actually think I'm going to let you hand Sparky over for experiments?"

"I thought you didn't like her."

"I don't like when she sleeps on my pillow after rolling in mud. I don't like it when she scratches the walls because she's so bored being trapped inside all day. And I don't like it when she pukes on the kitchen floor. But most of those are your fault. I don't have a problem with Sparky being here. And I have a big problem with you sending her away to be studied."

Phoenix held up his hands. "It's not like that. If someone finds out she's here, then we'll have bigger problems. The demonologist isn't a scientist like that. We just want to find out enough about Sparky so we can recommend that she gets to live if it comes to that."

"How would someone find out?" A look of disgust spread across Lorcan's face. "You never let her outside during the day. And nobody visits us. Anytime anyone comes here, you make it so awkward that they never bother a second time."

"We're not the only ones who know about her. Peter Brannigan would love to make life uncomfortable for me."

Lorcan snorted softly. "You just don't trust humans. You don't even like them."

"That's not true. I trust Shay, and I—"

"Then why did he leave the Senate? He couldn't wait to stop working with you for a reason."

"I don't think that's—"

"Besides. I just got a job. I can't walk out and leave."

Phoenix rubbed his temples. "If you could just think about it."

Lucia got to her feet and held Lorcan's hand. Whatever vision she passed on to him made him blush. "Fine," he said at last. "I'll think about it." He met his father's eyes. "For Lucia."

***

Phoenix heard sounds in the kitchen and went to investigate. Lorcan was bundling food into a basket while Lucia discreetly took some back out to feed to Sparky.

"Are you going somewhere?" Phoenix asked.

"Val's working tonight, so we're going to hang out with Leah."

"She could come here," Phoenix replied.

"Sparky freaks her out a little because Leah's secret power doesn't tell her anything about the thing." Lorcan scowled at his sister. "Would you please stop feeding the demon?"

"Oh. Why are you taking food?"

Lorcan rolled his eyes. "To eat. We have too much; they have too little. So we share." He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind. Lucia, let's go."

She took the basket and skipped to the door, but Phoenix gripped Lorcan by the arm to stay him.

"What now?" Lorcan asked with a scowl.

"Why are you acting as though we're enemies?"

Lorcan avoided his father's eyes. "We're not friends."

"We're family."

He finally met his gaze. "Are we? Because I see the way you look at Lucia. It's exactly the same way you look at Sparky. You want to figure out how she works."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Are you serious? What happens when you find a suitable expert for Lucia? Is she going to be studied?"

Phoenix released his son's arm. "You think I'm capable of hurting her?"

"You don't even know who you are! So how are we supposed to know what you're capable of?"

Phoenix sagged against the wall. It was true that he was still figuring himself out, even true that the twins hadn't always seen his best face, but they were all he had to cling on to from his past. He couldn't hurt them.

"I wouldn't," he whispered. "You're all I have. Why would I... Listen, come with me to Italy. I'll call the expert tonight and make arrangements. You'll see that Sparky won't be hurt. That it'll be safe. And maybe... maybe you'll learn to trust me. Give me a chance to prove myself to you."

Lorcan blew out a heavy sigh. "All right. I'll go. But if you ever hurt anyone I care about, then you and I are going to have serious problems."

"I will never hurt Lucia. I swear it."

"She's not the only person I care about."

Phoenix froze. Lorcan had learned about family from people other than his father, and he couldn't seem to replace them in the boy's favour, no matter what he did. Lorcan left without another word.

Phoenix felt shaky after the confrontation. He would never show it, but he was intimidated by his own children. They had a language of their own that he just didn't understand, and he was beyond figuring out what mattered to either of them.

Drained, he left out some water for Sparky, then opened the back door so she could run free in the darkness if she wished. He stood in the doorway as cool night air danced against his skin. It made him feel as though his feet were still on the ground, but the world always seemed to pull away from him and spin right out of his reach. The things that other people knew, he had forgotten, and it often felt as though he were on the outside looking in, completely separate from the rest of world where everyone seemed to know all of the moves without being told. On nights like that, he preferred to go see a friend to steady himself, but he couldn't let Lorcan down now. He headed to the study to find the phone number of the Italian expert.

They had never met, at least as far as he could recall, but Adela was well-known in certain circles, and they had corresponded briefly in the past. He wasn't sure if she would even want to help him, but if memory recalled, and to be fair, it often didn't, then she was as curious about the unknown as himself. Adopted shortly after birth, Adela had thought herself human—until she outlived everyone she knew. She had been trying to discover what kind of people her biological parents had been for many years.

She answered after the seventh ring in a sharp Italian tongue.

"This is Phoenix," he said.

A brief pause, then, in perfect English, "Ah, the prince of the Irish fae."

"So they say."

"Well, what can I do for his royal highness?"

"You could call him Phoenix, for a start."

Her laugh made her sound young. "How can I help you, Phoenix? Need more information on the tainted problem?"

"Actually, I have a new enigma for you to solve."

"What is it?"

He smiled as her interest made her voice go up an octave. "This time, I think it needs to be seen to be believed."

"You do know how to get an old lady excited. What have you found this time?"

"It could be a demon," he said.

She let out a sharp breath. "The book."

"Yes, it likely came from the book. But it's not quite what we expected. She's—"

"She?"

"So I'm told. She protected a child from another, more aggressive, demon. In light of that, I'd like to be fully informed before I let anyone else know of her existence."

"What about this dangerous demon?"

"Sparky killed it."

"Sparky." She laughed. "You're playing a trick on me."

"That's what the child called her, and the name stuck. Of course, the girl did believe the creature to be a pet dog."

"A demon?" Adela said incredulously.

"It's as strange as it sounds. The other demon was monstrous, and well, this one isn't exactly pretty, but she has..."

"What?" Adela whispered.

"A soul." He smiled to himself. "There's something about her eyes. She's not a monster. No more than the rest of us. Just... different. The other demon oozed a kind of toxic material. Sparky's saliva sort of counteracts the poison."

"So it could be useful in more ways than one," Adela said. "I'm not going to pretend I'm not interested. Shall I send someone to visit you? Polly could—"

"We'll go to you. First, I must figure out how to get her over there without any attention on my back. If I come to you, will you help me figure her out?"

She hesitated.

"Adela?"

"I just... of course I will. I'm already going out of my mind with curiosity."

"Wait until you see her." He paused for a beat. "I'm also bringing my children with me. They're different, too. Maybe you could give me your opinion on them while we're there."

"I... I'll do what I can." Her breath hitched on the final word, and there was an odd little quiver in her voice.

Phoenix frowned. "Are you well, Adela?"

She sniffed. "Perfectly. I take it I'm sworn to secrecy." She cleared her throat. "If we agree it is a demon, what then?"

"Then we figure out how to keep her safe."

"If I don't deem the creature to be safe?"

His heart raced. "We'll figure that out if we come to it. If Sparky is a good demon, or something else entirely, then it puts everything we know out the window. We'll be starting over."

"I do enjoy starting from scratch. But if it came from the book, then why would it be good?"

"Perhaps other things were trapped besides demons. Who knows?"

"We'll find out as much as possible. How long will you be here?"

"Not long," he said. "I have responsibilities here, too."

"The werewolves."

"There's no way I'll get a werewolf on a plane," he said, hearing the plaintive plea in her voice. "If you want to see one, you'll have to come to us."

"I wish I could," she said. "From what I hear, you have a beautiful country full of the wild and weird."

"I like to think of us as misunderstood," he said with a laugh. "I will find a way to get to you, Adela. I'll see you soon."

And when he hung up, he made up his mind to dissuade Adela from ever visiting Ireland. She might be useful, but she was nosy enough to uncover everything he preferred to keep hidden.

Chapter Two

Phoenix opened the front door and lost sight of Sparky within seconds as she dove into the undergrowth next to his house. After luring her back with a slab of meat, he persuaded her to get into his car. He slammed the door behind her with relief. The last thing he needed was her running off and getting herself spotted by the general public.

If he could just figure out how to communicate with her, then perhaps the rest of the world wouldn't find her as terrifying. He'd already had to pay Gemma's mother a large sum of money to prevent her from selling her story about a demon living in her garden to the newspapers. She had been horrified by Sparky's appearance, but not distraught enough to miss a money-making opportunity.

Phoenix glanced at the converted garage on his property as he opened the door to the driver seat. The garage currently housed a half-hellhound and a teenage human with the ability to sense, well, abilities. Val, the hellhound, carried memories of the wife he had forgotten. He couldn't look at her without thinking of her connection to Helena, and yet he couldn't be rid of her, for her own safety.

How he wished he could find a way to remove her safely from his life. The twins had been trapped in the market for years, and later, Val had been raised there as a guard until Helena urged her to flee with a very special baby. Val and Leah had gone on the run until they found a place they could finally stop running.

Words alone couldn't save either of them from those who wanted to either own them or kill them. Holding them close was the only solution, even if he detested having a creature from Hell anywhere near his children. Val should have been the reminder they didn't need, and yet his daughter leaned toward the hellhound for comfort.

As if he could talk. He had been married to a human and yet he couldn't bring himself to truly trust any of them. Life was never an uncomplicated straight path.

A ripping sound from the backseat meant Sparky was already bored. Sighing, Phoenix drove through the gate and onto the road. He needed to bring Sparky to the werewolf pack. After earning his mother's disapproval and losing his memories, he had been hidden away with the werewolves—ostensibly as their trainer. That solitude led him to develop a kinship with the werewolves, something that didn't often happen.

He wore a mask almost everywhere. He was the man he needed to be at any given moment. Except with the werewolves. They had been through too much together. More intelligent than they ever let on, the werewolves had agreed to allow some of their cubs to attend the new supernatural school, opening up their secrets for the world to see. Phoenix was the only person any of the adults had ever truly communicated with, and he preferred to keep it that way. The cubs were being domesticated, but they would always have wildness in them, preserved by the pack. That was what protected them from the outside world.

"I'm taking you to see werewolves," Phoenix said aloud as he drove through a quiet neighbourhood.

Normally, he felt perfectly comfortable in silence, but he generally wasn't accompanied by a true demon. People called Elathan, another Senate member, a demon, but in reality, he had originally been a fae who twisted into something darker after his banishment to Hell by Phoenix's ancestors when they first arrived in the country. Elathan wasn't close to the kinds of beings who had been trapped in the book of souls—though he had a touch of true darkness about him—but then again, Sparky didn't seem close to those supposed beings either.

"Please don't challenge the alpha," he said as an after-thought. "I won't be able to stop what comes next."

Sparky leapt onto the front passenger seat and settled there, her golden eyes fixed on Phoenix. He switched on the radio, and the demon dog fell asleep as heavy metal filled the car. He glanced at her as he drove, wishing he could keep her as a companion. He missed living among the werewolves. They didn't worry about politics or profit. After a day's work surrounded by greed and cunning, the werewolves were a breath of fresh air.

Sparky awoke as soon as they came upon werewolf territory. The pack had settled on land that had once belonged to Phoenix's mother. As she had been the cause of the werewolves' misery, it seemed appropriate that she should be the source of their freedom. Sparky's tail stood straight up in the air as though she sensed some invisible marker. What had been her purpose in her own world?

The land was open and full of deer and other wildlife, with plenty of wooded areas for cover. The werewolves had settled quickly without negatively affecting the eco-system. It was almost as though nature itself welcomed their existence.

Phoenix parked in a clearing near the boundary of their territory. Probably better if he didn't end up in close quarters between a pack and an unknown.

"Stay," he told Sparky before getting out and blowing on a whistle that, hopefully, only a werewolf could hear. Sparky leaned out of the window, her long tongue hanging out like an actual dog. If it wasn't for the horn and everything else...

"Stay," Phoenix repeated and blew the whistle again. Then he sat on the bumper of his car and waited patiently.

It wasn't long before a lone werewolf loped from a copse of trees toward him. Icarus was the alpha, but not because of his size and strength. As it turned out, keeping werewolves in cages had stunted their growth. To the human eye, the creatures were enormous, furry, and monstrous, but there was more to them that few people took long enough to get a chance to see. They worked as a team—as a family—and were protective rather than aggressive. They hunted to eat, not for the joy of killing.

Icarus himself was mentally strong—a life in a cage hadn't changed that—and he hadn't needed to force his strength on the rest of the pack for them to see him as a leader. He let the dominant wolves form their own mini-packs, and he kept peace between those clans. He was the leader the werewolves needed, but above all, Phoenix considered him a rare friend. His best friend, in human terms.

Sparky's ears pricked up, and a low whine came from the back of her throat.

Icarus froze about ten feet away. Then he transformed into his human form, naked, muscular, hairy—and likely to many, still monstrous—but at least capable of human speech. He held Phoenix's gaze and shouted, "What is that?"

"Something... new," Phoenix called back. He beckoned Icarus closer.

The werewolf came closer but circled the car warily. He and Sparky locked gazes, her ears flattening against her head.

Icarus's head cocked to the side. "I don't know it."

"Neither do I." Phoenix opened the car door, and Sparky leapt out. "I was hoping you could shed some light."

Alarmed, Icarus took a couple of steps back as Sparky pranced toward him. Phoenix's lips twitched at the werewolf's rather human reaction.

Sparky turned in a circle before collapsing to the ground. Sighing, she lay her head on her legs and relaxed. Icarus got on all fours and came closer, sniffing and watching, his back arched in a hesitant pose.

Phoenix approached, careful not to startle either of them. "We think it might be a demon of some kind. But a... good one. A protective one. She saved a child from a larger demon."

"Then that must be her purpose. She holds herself like a hunter." Icarus hesitated. "But not to feed. To kill. She's dangerous. But she's... non-threatening. I don't understand her."

"She is a girl then."

Icarus chuffed a sound of disdain that somehow made Phoenix feel foolish. Sparky crept closer and lay at Icarus's feet. Phoenix sighed with relief. No challenges then.

"Nobody knows about her yet," Phoenix explained. "I've been hiding her because, well, you know how it is. The only ones who know are sworn to secrecy."

"You trust them?"

"One is the hellhound," Phoenix said.

"You may like to think otherwise, but the hellhound is loyal." Icarus stared at Sparky. "This one could stay with us. Unless she gets predatory around our children. Hold a moment." He threw back his head and howled. It wasn't the magnificently oppressive sound that he made in his wolf form, but it was close enough.

Phoenix's skin prickled at the sound, and Sparky pressed her body closer to the ground. Icarus reached out to stroke her, and she rolled onto her back.

"She knows her place at least," Icarus said. "She's a dealer of justice, Phoenix. She earns herself a place in my pack if she needs it."

"Thank you, but I already called Adela for help. She could be more useful this time."

Icarus made a face. "You trust too many souls."

"No," Phoenix said. "I trust very few."

Icarus sat down as a cub burst from a thicket of trees on the horizon. The child's legs were long and skinny, his gait ungainly. At the sound, Sparky pricked up her ears, but she didn't move until the child came close. In werewolf form, it was hard to tell, but Phoenix was relatively certain the cub was one of the boys attending the school. The one having the most trouble.

Phoenix and Icarus had both made concessions on the issue of the new supernatural school. Only two werewolf children were to start to see how it went. They had to remain in human form, but they didn't have to speak. So far, it hadn't been working as well as Phoenix had hoped. Icarus wasn't inclined to encourage the pair to act more human, and few other than Phoenix could handle a werewolf in their animal form—even a cub.

The boy came close to Sparky, sniffed, snapped playfully, and then ran toward the closest grove of yew trees, an old favourite of Phoenix's mother. Sparky let out an excited yelp then followed. The pair chased each other, obviously enjoying themselves.

Icarus relaxed. "And there we have it. The creature is welcome here. By her actions, I'm surprised she managed to harm anything at all, never mind a demon."

"She tried to drive it out, but it attacked the human child who was feeding her, and she killed it in retaliation."

Icarus nodded, his lips pressing together. "A good creature, one who doesn't deserve to die. So she must be kept in secret until the world changes."

Phoenix sighed and sat next to Icarus. "Secrets. Will we ever be free of them?"

"Not until the world is free."

Which meant never.

"The paragon left again," Phoenix said. "But I'm certain he'll return."

"With commands, no doubt," Icarus said. He glanced at Phoenix. "And what will you do?"

"Figure out a way for us all to live through it." He shrugged. "And have an escape route handy."

"I won't leave," Icarus warned. "This is my land, and they'll have to kill me to take it."

The werewolf spoke in earnest. Phoenix already knew he would die by Icarus's side before he'd let that happen either. He had raised the werewolf as a cub. He knew him better than his own children. But he couldn't let the pack die.

"You'll let me take the cubs out of here first," Phoenix said neutrally.

Icarus shot him a brief smile. "You can take the cubs. Letting them wipe us out would be almost as bad as letting them take this land from us."

"Speaking of cubs, has school been any easier for him?"

Icarus shook his head as they watched the pair. "Not for him. He's too wild. As soon as he feels any emotion, he shifts into his true form."

"You could make it easier on him. You chose him for a reason."

"He reminds me of myself, but I had you to depend on. He's thriving here, more than any of them. I thought he needed balance, but this is his true form. It's not the same for all werewolves, but it's true for him, and it might never work in a school."

"I know of children his age. He could visit with them, perhaps. Get used to being around them."

"And when he shifts?"

"There will be people close by strong enough to help him. I could make a point of being there. This world will hurt him if he doesn't find a way to fit in."

Icarus snorted. "People like us never find a way to fit in."

"No, we fake it until we carve out a place for ourselves. That's what we're teaching them, Icarus. That's what they learn from you and I."

"I'll think about it," Icarus began, but his arm shot out and gripped Phoenix. "Did you bring a human?"

"Human? No, why..."

But Icarus was already transforming. He leapt into the air mid-shift and dashed into the woods. Phoenix was fast, unencumbered by a transformation. He made it into the trees seconds after Icarus, his heart thrumming in his chest.

He stopped short at the sight before him. Sparky was nowhere to be seen, but a drunken human male lurched toward the cub whose tail was under his legs and curled up to his chest. The man lifted a shotgun and aimed for the boy wolf.

"Stop!" Phoenix shouted. Icarus made a desperate move to get in front of the child, but he would never make it.

The human shouted something about wolves and pulled the trigger as Sparky leapt out of nowhere and sank her teeth into his flesh, holding on as she dropped. The man's arm jerked, a whimper sounded, and Phoenix began to move, his ears ringing with the sound of the shot. Sparky had already tackled the human, and Icarus was close enough to stop him from fleeing, so Phoenix ran to the child. The wolf cub lay on the ground, bleeding and whimpering, but the bullet hadn't penetrated, likely thanks to Sparky.

"It's just a graze!" Phoenix called out.

He looked up as the human raised his weapon a second time. There was an odd wet sound, the man flinched, and then blood slid from his lips. As he dropped to his knees, Phoenix noticed the bloody horn protruding from the man's gut. It was too late to do anything but watch the man die.

Phoenix held on to the cub, sweat rolling down his back. Sparky had just given up her right to live. Icarus gently picked her up with his mouth and moved her from the dead man. Then he licked her fur as if to welcome her into the pack. Phoenix froze as he watched, fascinated by the blood ritual of acceptance.

"They'll kill her when they find out," Phoenix said, distraught.

Icarus let out a low growl. Phoenix watched as his friend pounced on the dead man, methodically ripping flesh from his body and flinging it away. Icarus made it so nobody would ever guess the man had been impaled with the unicorn-like horn of a demon dog. Sparky was safe, and the werewolves would take the blame as payment for Sparky saving one of their cubs.

Chapter Three

There had been a few times in the previous two years in which Phoenix had been engulfed in panic. All of those occasions had been when those he regarded as under his protection were in danger. This time was no different. The demon dog had saved a child—and what a child, the one already having trouble with the world outside of the pack—and in the process had destroyed her own chances of survival in Ireland. And before Phoenix could stop him, Icarus had paid back the favour by covering up the method of death.

Now what?

Continue with the deception, of course. What else was there? His life had grown such a thick maze of deceit and secrets that sometimes he lost the truth. For now, survival took priority.

He called Adela as he searched what was left of the dead man for identification.

"Adela," he said briskly when she answered. "We have a problem."

"Hmm? Has your little friend imploded by any chance?"

He glanced at the phone in surprise, deciding not to ask where that question had come from. "Not as such. We need to leave the country as soon as possible. My little friend... is in some rather big trouble."

Adela cleared her throat. "Are you desperate, Fae Prince?"

"Close enough."

He watched as the injured cub was shepherded away from the bloody scene by members of the pack who had shown up after they heard the shot. The werewolves were pragmatic, less likely to be rendered hysterical by the injury, but there was still an atmosphere in the air that he needed to dispel sooner rather than later.

"I'll get back to you as soon as I can," Adela said. "In the meantime, keep that creature hidden. She's vital to our research."

It was only after she hung up that he pondered on the use of the word, "our."

"Leave the body alone," Phoenix warned. "Someone will come to remove it. In the meantime, keep an eye on Sparky. I'll be back for her when I know it's safe."

Icarus chuffed in response then nudged Sparky after the others. She meekly accompanied the pack, leaving Phoenix alone with the body.

He sank to the floor and crossed his legs under him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, visualising a calm, safe place. Everything was going to be okay. Nobody else was going to die because of his secrets. This was the end. This had to be the end. His mother's face came to him, but he brushed it away. Her memory couldn't taint him.

When he calmed, he opened his eyes. He was struck by the sight of crimson splatter on verdant green foliage. Beautiful. The sight calmed him more than his visualisations. Blood was at the heart of living and dying; it told him that nature was more powerful than politics.

He observed the scattered remains. The man was unrecognisable. He doubted the Senate would suspect a thing. Others might, but they would never see the body. A blood-stained wallet drew his eye. He picked it up and found an old identity card with the man's name and address. In his photo, Edward Byrne looked tired, mostly. So what had driven him to the pack with a gun?

He left the werewolves' territory and phoned an assistant who would call an emergency meeting of the Senate on his behalf. At least something good had come of Shay leaving; he wouldn't have to lie to the human's face. Of the others, he might have told Elathan the truth—if the man ever returned—but the rest didn't compel him to loyalty or honesty. In their eyes, he was the reliable one, the old-blooded powerful one with all of the right connections. He needed to keep it that way, but this... this changed everything. This might force him into taking a side.

His life was a sliding slope; if he let one ally die—no matter how small that death might appear—it would just be easier to lose more.

But he couldn't deal with this alone. He called Shay Whelan for help, realising there was nobody else he could trust. Shay might have been human, but he was fair and rational.

"Shay," he said sharply when the garda answered.

"I don't want my old job back," Shay said, his tone full of the humour he had lost during his stint as a Senate member.

"Good," Phoenix said. "I envy you."

"Something wrong?"

"Yes. I need you to send somebody reliable to werewolf territory to remove... remains."

"Remains." Shay's voice hardened. "And what should they do with the remains?"

"Move them as quickly as possible and wait for more information. Don't worry. I'm not hiding the death, but I want to meet with the family and the Senate, and I'd rather nobody stumble upon the remains before then."

"Phoenix."

"The werewolves are responsible." The words felt dry in his mouth. "They accept any consequences."

"All right," Shay said. "Let me know how the Senate want to proceed."

"You know quite well how they'll proceed."

Shay hung up on him, so Phoenix texted him directions instead.

His next mission was to visit the dead man's family—if he even had any; there were no photos in the wallet—and feel them out. Phoenix's face was recognisable; he was trusted, even amongst humans, and that might stand for him. He prayed for Edward Byrne to be a single, childless recluse as he drove to the man's address. He wasn't sure if any god was even capable of listening to the fae, not after their many transgressions, but the plea wasn't for his benefit. At least, not solely.

He arrived in a small neighbourhood of well-kept semi-detached homes. Edward Byrne had lived in a part of the city that had once been considered well-off. Times had changed. Phoenix often wondered why humans clustered together. Large communities made him uncomfortable. His son would probably rather life that way, but Phoenix preferred a higher degree of privacy and solitude.

His heart sank when he spotted a set of swings in the small front garden of the house he sought. He parked and realised his knuckles had turned white on the steering wheel. Clearing his throat, he let go and flexed his fingers.

He double-checked the address. Definitely Byrne's. He wondered if his own wife had given up her human surname when she married him. It was a long-forgotten fact that surnames had begun as a way to identify slaves. Supernatural beings rarely used them. In recent years, with slavery out of favour, discreet tattoos had sufficed instead.

He got out of his car and entered the garden. The brass knocker on the front door was well polished. The step had been recently scrubbed. His limbs felt weighed down as he reached up and knocked on the door.

A red-cheeked woman answered, blowing hair off her face. She started to smile, clearly recognising him, and then stopped, her face draining of colour.

"Is this... Edward Byrne's residence?" Phoenix asked.

"It was. I'm his wife. His ex-wife."

"Are you his next of kin?"

She nodded shakily, and it was all he could do to catch her as she fell.

"I'm okay." She brushed him off as though attempting to drive away her embarrassment. "Low blood sugar is all. You must be... come in."

He followed her into the kitchen and watched as she moved around the room to make tea. She kept rattling on about nonsensical things, and he let her, knowing she wasn't ready to hear it yet. Phoenix guessed her to be in her forties, but he had trouble placing the ages of humans.

The room was clean, but everything within was threadbare and old. Edward Byrne's ex-wife looked like a woman who was on the point of giving up. Her dark roots were obvious against the brassy blonde highlights, and her eyes were bloodshot and tired. Her reddened fingers trembled as she reached for a clean spoon from a drawer.

When she finally laid a cup in front of him, she nodded more determinedly and sat across from him. "I spoke to my daughter on the phone only ten minutes before you arrived, and my son's playing video games next door, so I know this has nothing to do with them. And as you're with the Senate, I'm guessing this visit has supernatural reasons."

"It does," he said gently.

She gripped her cup and shot him a weak smile. "My ex-husband was an awful racist even before he knew supernaturals existed, and he only got worse after he lost his job, so I'd say he acted out on a threat that went badly for him." Her chin wobbled. "That's it, isn't it? He's hurt, or..."

"I'm so sorry," Phoenix said softly. "He tried to shoot a werewolf child today, and he was killed in the effort to stop him."

"A child." She gasped and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. "Are they okay?"

"Your ex-husband's aim was... deflected, and the boy merely suffered a graze. He'll be fine."

"Oh, God." She clutched her hair with both hands. "How do I tell my children? What do I tell my babies about their father?"

Phoenix stared at her pain, disconnected but for his incessant questions. Was this how his wife had felt when he vanished from her life? Had she cried for him, that woman he couldn't remember? Had she suffered when their children were taken from her?

But then he realised the woman before him wasn't grieving. She was angry.

"How could he?" she spat, the ruddiness in her cheeks growing more pronounced. "How could he do this to them? They'll always be known as the children of a monster now, a child-murderer, for heaven's sake. What was he thinking?"

"I'm very sorry for your loss. I regret his death. There was just no warning. Nothing I could do."

Something in his voice made her look at him in surprise. "Don't feel guilty on his behalf. He was a dead-beat, and I've tried to preserve every pathetic good memory they have of him, but this just... destroys everything. That bastard. That stupid, heartless bastard. Even in death, he's ruining their lives."

"He was intoxicated," Phoenix said. "There's a possibility that he didn't know he was aiming for a child, and—"

"Don't make excuses for him!" Spittle flew out of her mouth. She rubbed her lips with her sleeve, smearing her lipstick. "He doesn't deserve my pity or your excuses. He was a lousy husband and a worse father. The best thing that ever happened to my children was him leaving us. But he's leaving a smear on their names. He's left them with this legacy. How could he? Everyone's going to know. The neighbours are going to look at my children like they're the spawn of Satan. It's them I pity."

His panic eased as relief flooded him. This woman was exactly who he needed at the perfect time.

"I'll do my best to keep this out of the newspapers," he said. "Trust me when I say that I don't want to give anyone else inspiration. The werewolves aren't a threat—unless they're attacked. But their name as heroes in a war that would have enslaved us all will be marred when this comes to light."

She blinked back her tears. "Can't we just... pretend it didn't happen? That he was knocked down or drowned in his own vomit or something?"

"Officially? No. But publicly? I can arrange something." He reached out and squeezed her hand. "Your children never need to know what happened to their father. They never need to be shamed by his actions. And money won't be an issue for you any—"

"What?" She jerked her hand away from his. "I don't want your money."

"I merely meant the maintenance owed to you by your husband."

"He never gave us a penny, and I don't want to be bought off by you." She held his gaze. "I want this kept quiet as much as you do, but don't think you're manipulating me. I know what you want."

"You deserve something," he said. "I have children, and I was taken from them. They had nothing—through no fault of their own—and they deserved everything. No child should suffer from the sins of their parents."

She managed a smile. "If only that was how the world worked."

"Your childrens' futures should be glorious, but it's possible the machinations of others pushed an already unstable man past his limits. You may want nothing from me, but at least let me give something to them. People like me helped thrust this other world into the forefront. Sometimes, we must pay for the consequences, too. Your children are, what, teenagers?"

She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She might have been too proud to take money, but she likely wouldn't resist an offer to stabilise her childrens' futures.

"I can set up college funds for them and make it appear as though their father left them the means in his will. If that displeases you, I can let them think they have earned scholarships. I can give them a chance to make their own futures, and it's up to them whether they wish to take it or not. I can give them what their father could not, and I can make sure that their memories of him aren't tainted."

"And in exchange you need me to keep quiet, too."

"I would never ask that from you," he said. "But you already realise that I am desperate to preserve the good we've done so far. The werewolves are faultless, and your husband's death was a needless tragedy, but the headlines will tar all of us with darkness."

"He doesn't deserve any of this," she said, half to herself. "He was a mean, angry man, even when he was sober. He wasn't like that when we were young, but he just got... bitter. Always acted as though the world owed him something. He spent too long sitting on his arse, waiting for something to happen. I grew up on the idea that you worked hard to earn everything you got, but he was constantly comparing us to the neighbours, and we never measured up."

"Comparison is the thief of joy."

"Isn't it just? Is the little boy really going to be all right?"

"The damage is mostly psychological," he explained. "That boy attends the new school, but he's been having trouble adjusting. Remember, he grew up in a cage. It's hard for him to trust anyone, and this incident will set him back, but physically, he will heal quickly."

"Poor kid." She sighed. "I feel sad. Not for my ex, but for that little boy and my own children. The damage adults do so easily takes years to be undone."

He gazed at her, thinking of Lorcan. He needed to have more patience with his son, to be more understanding of what the boy had gone through. "That's something I needed to be reminded of actually."

"You're kinder than I thought," she said. "I know you're the face of the Senate, and they make you out to be some kind of hero, but whenever I see you on the television, there's an emptiness behind your eyes. Your smile never really... warms."

"I am empty," he said, too stunned by her words to deny it. "I'm an empty vessel learning how to be like everyone else. I'm not a hero or anything like it."

"But you're kind," she persisted.

And he wondered if he had been kind before his memories were torn from him.

***

Under cover of darkness, most of the Senate met in an old Council building.

"Will this take long?" Callista asked. "I have a set in Finn's bar this evening."

Phoenix avoided her gaze and breathed through his mouth. Her intoxicating pheromones were too much to contend with. He'd learned that the hard way.

Of the entire grouping of the Senate, only a number had appeared. Daimhín, the vampire queen of Ireland sat alone, an empty seat on either side of her. Callista, a seductive siren, sat as far away from Layla, the spokesperson for succubi and related species, as possible. Willow, who claimed to speak for the nameless, made her best attempt to curry favour with Vega, a mouthpiece for the old exiles. James, a businessman and current human representative, and Mick, a police commissioner, were thick as thieves. The humans stuck together, a part of the same world.

"There was an incident today," Phoenix said. "A death occurred in werewolf territory."

Mick sat up straight. "I wasn't told about any deaths."

"The family was in a hurry to cremate the remains," Phoenix said.

Daimhín gazed at him with sharp eyes. "That's unusual."

"That's not our concern." Phoenix steepled his fingers. "A drunken human almost killed a werewolf cub. In the attempt to stop him, the man was killed instead."

"The werewolves killed a human?" Willow looked sick. "This is awful."

Phoenix smoothed over his disdain. Her immediate concern had been with the human rather than the werewolf cub. Typical of those who claimed to do good.

"How do you know what happened?" James asked, looking distrustful.

"I happened to be there. I witnessed the entire thing. The child was merely grazed rather than murdered, thanks to Icarus's quick thinking. The death was... inevitable." Lying to them was too easy.

Daimhín shrugged. "Can't be helped. If humans want to be foolish, let them."

"It's akin to an idiot jumping into a lion's den in a zoo," Vega said. "But the press will have a field day with this."

"We can't afford more bad press," Mick said. "Not while this shifter disaster is happening."

Layla snorted. "I think you've covered up for Mac's mistakes pretty well actually. People will soon forget that in his spare time, our trusted shifter representative likes to stalk women who reject him."

"I still think he should be removed from the Senate," Willow said sharply.

"We all do," Callista said. "He's a risk."

"In time," James said. "It's too dangerous to remove an alpha right now."

"The story doesn't need to reach the papers," Phoenix said calmly. "At least not in its current form. I've already informed the family of the incident, and they are eager to conceal the truth. The man had teenage children who will forever be stained with this story. The last thing we need is for the public to lose faith in the werewolves as well as the shifters. For everyone's sake, we need to forget this ever happened."

"And if it happens again?" James asked. "The werewolf pack is obviously dangerous."

"What would you do if a madman tried to kill your child?" Phoenix asked, barely containing his anger. He was surrounded by imbeciles. "The human was out of control and paid the ultimate price. His family want protection from the truth, and we have the means to give it to them."

"They'll blackmail us in a few months," James continued.

"Don't judge people by your standards," Phoenix said in a clipped tone. "This man's wife wants nothing from us but protection for her children."

"Will the pack seek revenge?" Mick asked.

Phoenix looked at Garda Shay Whelan's replacement. The man was too close to James, and he fell short of what made Shay a good candidate, but it wasn't his fault he was ignorant.

"There is no revenge for werewolves," Phoenix explained patiently. "And the incident ended with the man's death. They aren't the monsters that James likes to infer. They are a family, and they protected their own today." Except they hadn't, and if anyone else found out that a demon had killed a human, no progress would ever be made.

"It looks like Phoenix has a handle on this," Callista said. "Nobody wants this to go public, so steps will be made to prevent it. And if that's all..."

"Actually, it isn't," Phoenix said, relaxing in his seat. Overall, the meeting had gone far more smoothly than he had expected. "I'm planning a trip. I'm leaving as soon as possible."

"A trip?" Willow sounded aghast, as though everything depended on his presence. "Now? When everything is in flux?"

"Everything will always be in flux," Phoenix said. "This incident is a non-issue. I'm sure the rest of you can deal with the aftermath."

"But what if the werewolves have a taste for human blood now?" James asked. "What if we can't control them without you?"

"You don't need to control them. They control themselves. If there's a problem, I'll return, but I have business to attend to, and I'd like to turn that into something of a family holiday."

"Where are you going?" Vega asked.

"Europe," he said. "Travelling here and there. I'll keep in touch, but you won't be able to contact me."

Some more discussion followed, as more issues were brought up, but the Senate seemed mostly at ease. When the meeting was dismissed, Callista remained behind to waylay him.

"What's going on?" she asked. "You're far too calm."

He avoided her eyes. "There's nothing to be excited about. Something happened, and it's being dealt with satisfactorily."

"And so you're leaving? Just like that?"

She touched his arm, and a rush of heat ran through his body. Sometimes, he liked it, despite knowing it was artificial and temporary. It made him feel as though he were connected to something other than himself. But it never lasted long. He pulled out of her grasp.

"We're friends, aren't we?" she asked, her husky voice wrapping around him seductively. She was doing it on purpose now, trying to figure him out.

"We are friends," he said firmly. "And as a friend, you know I need time with my children."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know it's been difficult. If you need... help, you know where I am."

He did look at her then, surprised by the offer. And it was sincere, if the expression on her face was anything to go by. Her natural appeal ramped up, and that was far more terrifying than the fake lust. He had to leave. "Thank you," he said. "I'll see you when I return."

"You're going so soon?"

He walked away. "As soon as possible."
Chapter Four

On his way home, he planned his farewells. Some people were easier to lie to than others, and he didn't look forward to all of his goodbyes. He rubbed his chest as a strange feeling pricked at him. He was like a child, unable to distinguish how he felt. That was sometimes frustrating enough to make him want to destroy everything around him. Which was exactly why he had to work so hard on maintaining the calm persona his country needed from him.

His phone rang, disturbing his own version of meditation. Adela again, but this time her tone was strained.

"A private plan will arrive for you in two hours."

"Excuse me?"

"Phoenix, this is important. The paragon you've been dealing with has unexpectedly cancelled long-term plans to return to Ireland."

"Regis?"

"Yes! If he discovers this demon, you won't be able to save it—or yourself. His frequent visits are for a reason, and I fear he's not working alone. Either he's waiting for someone to slip up, or he's manoeuvring a way to push someone out. That someone could be you. Don't give him the chance. A friend has organised transport. If you're not on the plane in two hours, it will leave without you and you'll be on your own."

"What friend?"

A pause. "I'll send you directions. Be there or get left behind. If you don't show, don't contact me again. I can't afford to get dragged down with you. Not for this."

She hung up before he could argue. His curiosity was sparked by the mystery, but unknown friends with private planes? Still, nothing was more important to Adela than her research, and if she wanted access to the demon that badly...

She was right about one thing. He had to get Sparky out of the country before the paragon returned. Regis was too cunning to be outsmarted by fake stories. If he was returning, then it was because he knew something, and that meant somebody connected with the Senate likely called him. But who? Mac to steer attention away from his transgression? The vampire queen in a bid to make a powerful ally? Or even Mick in a vain attempt to bring peace to a country that wasn't ready for the rules he wanted to enforce.

Adela had information, and that meant getting on a private plane with Sparky in the middle of the night. His phone beeped with a text message containing the meeting point. There wasn't even a private airfield there, as far as he knew. It was going to be an interesting trip. That was for sure.

He sped up and soon made it home. Home being the only house on a darkened road. As the car squealed through the gates surrounding the property, Val and the twins turned in surprise from where they were having a discussion in the driveway. He parked in front of them and jumped out of the car.

"I have to go," he said. "There was an incident, the paragon's returning, and Sparky is in grave danger. A friend organised a plane out of the country, but I must be there in," he checked his watch, "less than two hours."

"Where's Sparky?" Val asked.

"With the werewolves." Phoenix brushed his loose hair away from his face. Lorcan had the right idea in getting his shorn off. "And nobody can know that, understand? I have to go straight there then on to meet the plane. I don't even have time to properly pack." He gave his children apologetic looks. "You don't have to come. I know it's not the way we planned it, but—"

"We're going with you," Lorcan said after exchanging a brief glance with Lucia. "You promised."

"I did, but..." Phoenix shook his head. "I don't have time to discuss it. Grab an overnight bag and be in the car in ten minutes." He left his daughter to say goodbye to Val who looked as though she wanted to pluck his eyeballs from their sockets. If anything happened to her or Leah in his absence... but no, there were others who could protect them for a time. He couldn't take everyone with him.

Lorcan followed him inside. "Is anyone else in danger?"

"If they are, I'll deal with it," Phoenix said. "I received a warning that I have no choice but to take heed of."

"From someone you trust?"

"Trust is a strong word. Let's just say it's validated some worries I was already harbouring. I'm concerned enough to take action, but if it turns out to be nothing, then we'll return with Sparky. But we need to know more about her." He sighed. "Adela has a lot of questions to answer, put it that way."

"Do we have time to run by the cul-de-sac?" Lorcan asked.

"We'll barely make it to the plane as it is." Phoenix squeezed Lorcan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but you have valid passports now. You can follow me over later. There's no need for you and your sister to rush off in the dead of night because I got a mysterious call."

"If it's enough to make you panic like this then there is a need," Lorcan said.

"I thought I was better at concealing that sort of thing," Phoenix said wryly, but he was touched by his son's concern.

"It's just nice to know you're not made entirely of stone. But if you're in trouble, then maybe we should all go." Lorcan didn't say "just in case", but the intention hung in the air nonetheless.

"Come with me," Phoenix said impulsively. "I don't want to go alone."

Lorcan grinned easily. "That's all you had to say, Dad." He wrapped his arms around his father.

Surprised, Phoenix hugged him back, trying and failing to recall the sort of warmth the embrace gave him from his past. Even his own father had never embraced him with love. How empty the life of a fae prince must had been. No wonder he had run away with a human. They were full to the brim of everything, good and bad, but at least they weren't afraid of their own emotion. Perhaps that was what made Lorcan so terrifying to him.

"Thank you," he said in a shaky voice. "I know none of this is easy."

"Yeah, well, we had better hurry if we're going to make our ride," Lorcan replied in a light tone.

They rushed to prepare themselves. Phoenix took money, passports they weren't likely to need, documents he hoped he never had to use, and something he didn't dare leave behind. In under ten minutes, all three of them were in the car, a dog cage in tow. Val stood watching them stoically as they left. Phoenix was pretty sure she would never forgive him.

***

The moon pulled at him like a taut elastic band from somewhere behind his navel. On such nights, wanderlust hit him, but he usually ended up in the same place every time.

The darkened field before him was lit up by a small private plane. They had barely made it after stopping to pick up Sparky who seemed unconcerned by the regular travelling of her recent life.

Something prickled the back of Phoenix's neck, some feeling that wound its way into his stomach. Excitement, maybe. Staying in Ireland was safe. All of his memories fit neatly into that place. Going somewhere new was like making an extension onto his life, disconcertingly terrifying in some ways. It was comparable to lifting a foot over a ledge and preparing to stay balanced.

He covered Sparky's cage with a heavy blanket and bade her to be silent. The entire family got out of the car. Phoenix couldn't shake off his anxiety over the appearance of a private plane in the middle of nowhere.

He hauled his own bulky bag out of the boot of the car.

Lorcan raised his eyebrows. "Some overnight bag."

Phoenix ignored him.

A beautiful blonde with dark brown eyes approached and greeted them enthusiastically. "This way," she said, beckoning them. "We don't have much time. Make yourselves comfortable."

One look at Lorcan told Phoenix that his son was very comfortable in her company.

Her eyes fell on the cage and lit up. "And this must be a special guest. May I see?"

"Our family pet is sleeping. I'd rather you didn't disturb her," Phoenix said. He picked up Sparky's cage and headed onto the plane. Despite his misgivings, he trusted Adela with Sparky. She was more concerned with knowledge than power.

"I'm Rosa," the woman announced on the plane, rolling the 'r' on her tongue. "It'll be a quick journey, but there are drinks and snacks if anyone is interested."

"I'm interested," Lorcan said, and he took a seat next to Rosa on one side of the cabin.

The plane was small but obviously luxurious. Adela had wealthy friends. In the supernatural world, wealth tended to mean power and deals. Wealth was often procured from the suffering of others, and Phoenix had inherited an unheard of amount of wealth from his mother.

Phoenix sat in one of four window seats then set Sparky at his feet. He hoped the animal would sleep until they arrived at their destination. Lucia sank into a chair next to him, looking exhausted. Rosa took one look at Lucia and got up to dim the lights. She offered Phoenix a drink that he refused. Giving up on her attempts at making conversation with him, she gave the drink to Lorcan instead.

Phoenix closed his own eyes and listened to his son chat—what was he doing, flirting?—with Rosa. Lucia rested her head on his shoulder. As her breathing slowed, he relaxed. Everything would work out. They had come too far to fail now.

"Do you work for Adela?" Lorcan was asking Rosa.

Her laughter was light and breezy. "I'm more of a... contractor."

Something not quite truthful hung behind her words, but Phoenix was too tired to give it much thought.

To distract himself, he thought of the things he would do for the children of the man who had died on werewolf territory. A boy and a girl. Just like his own. Except his children had no silent benefactor giving them what he couldn't. They had been slaves until a woman they barely knew risked her life to save them. But now that he had claimed them, no one would ever dare come try to take them back. If they did, they would face the wrath of all the fae who had been happy to accept him as a leader. To his surprise, there had been many of them.

"The view at dawn is beautiful," Rosa told Lorcan, breaking through Phoenix's thoughts. "If we're lucky, we'll see it in the air. Are you sure your pet won't need some water before we arrive?"

"Let her sleep," Lorcan said firmly.

Knowing his son could be trusted, Phoenix drowned out the conversation and tried to doze, but something kept getting in the way, a nudging at his consciousness. Lucia. She was asleep on his shoulder, but her dreams wanted to be shared. He let down the natural wall that everyone had and accepted what her mind wanted to show him.

Her mind showed him his old self.

The sun blazed down on his bare arms. Tightly entwined with another's, his hand began to sweat, but he refused to let go. He laughed, glanced over his shoulder in spite of himself. When his mother found out they had gone, she would send others to track him down. But Helena deserved a honeymoon, something special.

Oh, no. What was it? A vision? A memory? He and his young wife, in another time. Unable to stop events that had likely already occurred, he pulled his wife down a lane and away from prying eyes.

He pressed Helena against the wall. The heat of her body against his made his heart race. Her deep-set eyes saw everything he kept hidden from the rest of the world. She found his decency, and she helped him cultivate it. She wasn't beautiful in anyone's eyes but his. Something about her face made him want to keep staring at her. He desired her above all else, just as he had since shortly after they met. His grief over his father had turned into something else, fed by the fear and excitement of sneaking around behind his mother's back with a human.

"We'll get caught," Helena said. "She'll find us someday."

He wiped beads of sweat from her upper lip with his thumb. "Then we'll have to enjoy every day until she does."

"I should be scared." She ran her hands across his chest. "But, Féinics, I'm so happy."

"I'm going to make this world a safe place for us." He laid his hand against her stomach. "And for our child."

"I know you will. I love you for it." She pulled him close and kissed him deeply.

Phoenix gasped and opened his eyes, hurriedly trying to disconnect from Lucia's dream.

"Everything all right?" Rosa asked, eyeing him with curiosity. Lorcan had fallen asleep already.

"Yes," he rasped. "Everything's... fine." He lay back against his chair, still feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin.

What was happening? He felt it. For a brief moment, he felt everything. He pressed his fingers against his lips. They burned. He had been in a past that he didn't recognise, felt what his old self was feeling, and still it didn't seem real. Those feelings didn't fit inside his skin, not this version of himself. Even if his memories could be restored, he wouldn't understand them. He was too far gone. The man who had taken his human wife on a honeymoon was dead. This Phoenix, newly arisen, hadn't yet figured out his own identity, never mind his past self's.

No more of Lucia's dreams haunted him on the journey. Perhaps his daughter wasn't even aware of her dreams, but Phoenix wasn't ready to be a willing participant any time soon. And for some reason, that made him depressed.

By the time the plane prepared its descent, he had taunted himself out of his sombre mood. There was no point lingering over things that couldn't be changed. It was time to work on the future, and the demon at his feet could be part of that. But change was easier said than done when he spent so much of his time absorbed with the unknowns of his past.

The plane appeared to land in the middle of nowhere. Lorcan lingered in the cabin, reluctant to leave Rosa.

"I have to work," she said coquettishly. "Perhaps we'll bump into each other again."

"I'd like that," Lorcan said eagerly.

"Come on," Phoenix said, giving his son a meaningful look. "We must move on."

The sky was still dark when they disembarked. He thought he smelled the sea, but he could barely see a thing other than the shadowy outlines of some tall trees.

A single vehicle was parked at the edge of the field. A petite woman with steel grey hair and over-sized glasses leaned against the car. As they approached her, her gaze moved from one fae to the other as if in awe.

"I was afraid you wouldn't make it," she said, her palm pressing against her mid-section as though she couldn't hold in her anxiety.

"You must be Adela," Phoenix said. "These are my children, Lorcan and Lucia."

Her smile brightened her eyes. Something about her felt reassuring to Phoenix. "I'm already intrigued. I've heard so much about you two."

"And this," Phoenix said, lifting up the cage and lowering his voice, "is the demon dog."

Adela peeked under the blanket then clapped her wrinkled hands together. "It's everything you said it would be. Now this is going to do wonders for my research."

Chapter Five

The car was full to the brim as Phoenix's family and Sparky squeezed into the passenger seats. Adela drove recklessly through winding streets, swearing in a variety of languages whenever traffic lights went against her. It was hard to see much in the dark on a cloudy night without street lights, but something felt familiar to Phoenix. That was his life now; everything felt familiar and strange at once. He wasn't even sure exactly where they had landed—other than they were in southern Italy, somewhere near the coast.

Regardless of everything, he eventually dozed off until the car came to an abrupt stop.

"Inside," Adela urged. "Quickly, before someone sees."

Phoenix bundled his twins and the demon out of the car and down an alleyway that ended in a narrow doorway. Adela seemed panicked, her hands shaking as she tried to put the key in the door. Phoenix took her hand and helped her.

She gave him a rueful look. "Thank you. I'm over-tired and over-excited, I expect."

He nodded at the lie. Over-tired and excited she might have been, but something had spooked her. "We have a long conversation ahead of us, Adela."

"That, I do know," she said as the door finally opened.

Inside, she slammed the door behind them and leaned against it in obvious relief. "Well," she said. "We made it. Upstairs are my research rooms, and in the attic are my own personal rooms that I use when research runs late. You can sleep here tonight, and we'll find rooms for you tomorrow. Is that all right with everyone?"

"I'm just glad to be somewhere new." Lorcan picked up Sparky's cage and headed straight upstairs after Adela.

Phoenix wrapped his arm around the drooping Lucia's shoulder and led her after her brother. "Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded, but her eyes were dazed. He wondered if she was aware of her dreams and the fact she passed them on to him, if they hurt or exhausted her. There were only three people he knew of who were capable of accepting Lucia's visions: himself, Lorcan, and Ava Delaney. For whatever reason, all three were susceptible, but did that mean they were open to the visions or that Lucia had the power to force them on? He still wasn't sure of that and many other questions.

The staircase was narrow, but it led into a massive, wide room that didn't seem possible. "How is it so large?" Phoenix wondered aloud.

"Oh, I bought the neighbours out," Adela said. "The bookcases keep expanding, no matter how much my assistants depend on computers." She shrugged. "In truth, I sleep here most nights. I consider this place my home."

Lorcan gazed about him in wonder. "But you do have a home?"

"Family inheritance. Doesn't feel like home in the usual sense." Adela sighed. "In the morning, my assistants will arrive, but they stay in this room. Sparky won't be disturbed if we keep her upstairs during those hours."

"And if they find her?" Phoenix asked.

Adela waved a hand. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, Sparky must hide out upstairs. I'll run tests on her at night, mostly. Polly will help me. She can be trusted. The others... well, I haven't quite made up my mind about them yet. You're welcome to be here, but it will seem tedious to those not used to my ways."

"What kinds of tests?" Lorcan enquired.

Adela smiled. "Whatever it takes to figure this little creature out. I don't sleep much, so I can start right now, but my findings don't happen overnight, no matter how willing a participant the demon might be."

"We don't know for sure that she's a demon," Lorcan said.

"Of course." Adela sank into a chair and removed her shoes. "But we'll soon find out more. Make yourselves at home."

Phoenix looked all around him. The room was a strange mix of research, science, and art. There were rows of bookshelves interspersed with tables full of vials, Bunsen burners, and the like. Dead creatures he had never seen before adorned the walls like pinned butterflies alongside oil paintings. Perhaps Adela was a little more mad scientist than he liked, but of anyone in the world, she could find answers. She had a knack for it.

"What do you know about demons?" Phoenix asked as he settled his daughter onto a comfortable looking sofa.

Adela was already at a kitchen area, making coffee. Without heels, the wizened old lady with sharp, intelligent eyes barely passed Phoenix's navel.

"I know a lot, but never enough." She shot him a sharp-eyed glance over her shoulder. "We'll need to be more specific."

"All right." He followed her to the kitchen as Lorcan set Sparky free from the cage. The demon leapt around the room to stretch her legs, knocking over a pile of pages that Lorcan hurriedly set to rights.

"She's sprightly," Adela remarked. "If she destroys any of my books, there will be consequences."

Phoenix mused on the right questions to ask before Sparky distracted Adella again. "What about the book that hid the sun, the one that released demons into our world?"

"That book was just one of many." She moved up onto her toes, stretching to reach some clean cups. "It's impossible to say what was in which book. Too much has been lost."

Phoenix took the cups down for her. "Does that mean that demons once overran our world?"

"Some say. Old texts that have been translated dozens of times do."

"Isn't there a way to track down the original documents?"

"If they still exist? We've little chance." She sighed. "It's complicated, so hard to find the truth when species like to wipe out the existence of their enemies. Do you know there are now-extinct species who once controlled the world? Even parallel worlds?" A wide yawn interrupted her words. "Some texts mention ancient species such as these being overwhelmed by their rivals who then proceeded to wipe away any mention of their existence. It complicates things. In a couple of generations, werewolves would have devolved into complete myth, and yet there you are, running with a pack."

"I don't actually run with them." Phoenix guided the old woman into a chair and took over the job of making coffee. "But back to demons, Adela."

"Ah, yes, demons. There are a number of books. Some say countless books kept the demons at bay."

"But if they belong to other worlds or dimensions, then how did they get here in the first place?"

"Demonolatrists, of course." She wrinkled her nose. "Although, that name wasn't introduced until much later. Demonology is the study, you see, but demonolatry is the worship. At first, it appears to have begun innocently enough. Those who were skilled in evocation Called demons into our world to help."

"Help with what exactly?"

She waved a hand. "Oh, wars, locating lost objects, any number of reasons."

"That sounds so foolish," Phoenix said.

"In hindsight, perhaps. With control and dedication, the balance was maintained. With every Calling, the demon was returned once its use ran out, and only lower level demons were ever Called."

"Until?"

"Greed and fear overcame good sense," she said. "The masses discovered they could Call, too. Before, it had been taken upon by the educated, those who claimed to have a special skill, and while there is a certain level of skill needed to control and bind a demon, Calling one is relatively easy." She shot him a rueful smile. "At least, in comparison."

"So those who didn't know how to bind began to Call."

"The world itself changed. Callings brought wealth and influence. As some Callers grew in power, those around them developed a desire to protect themselves. The end result was the same. Higher level demons were Called. Uncontrollable demons. They became idols as those who failed in their bindings sought to appease the danger they had wrought on their communities. And the more they were worshipped, the more powerful the demons became. Our world was eventually invaded, and balance shifted. In an attempt to restore the natural order, every demon was banished, even the ones who helped us."

"So there are helpers?"

"Demon is just a word for anything that's not of this world," she said, yawning again. "Anything without a name can be called demon. That's probably what led to that terrible inquisition."

He frowned. "What inquisition?"

"Think the Salem Witch Trials, but on a world-wide scale. It's been wiped from history, by the way. Everything gets twisted into something else, given enough time. In old cultures, demons were synonymous with angels. It's all about perception, but out of necessity, demon became a catch-all phrase. Nothing could be spared. The "demons" were all banished because the worst ones couldn't be defeated." She nodded at Sparky. "But this one defeated another."

"She's a protector, but she has no boundaries," Phoenix explained. "She killed a human while saving a child."

Adela rolled her eyes. "And we all know how important humans are. Just because they've managed to breed like rabbits. My research looks into the why of that, too. They're the most productive species when it comes to procreation, and yet they're so unutterably weak. Like... insects."

"I thought you identified yourself as human," Phoenix said.

"Oh, I do. I'm as baffled by myself as the rest." She grinned. "And you eloped with a human. You're not the first. This world is full of half-breeds like me and your children. And the unknown like little Sparky here. I see us as something special rather than a problem to be eradicated. But then, the humans have a history of an over-interest in eugenics, even if they were often led in that direction by a more persuasive force. Isn't it funny how we're under threat from the weakest species of all, simply because they outnumber us?"

Phoenix yawned himself as he handed Adela a cup of coffee. "As interesting as this is, I don't think coffee is enough to keep me awake."

"You've been busy," Adela conceded. "Perhaps you'll want to visit the tourist traps while you're waiting for me to come up with something valuable. Not that we get many tourists." She winced. "Not that I ever leave this place often enough to notice."

"Maybe I'll be too busy watching you work." He looked over at his children who had both fallen asleep. "Apparently, I'll be alone in that venture."

Adela smiled fondly at the twins. "They look so innocent. It's hard to imagine all they've been through."

Phoenix didn't want to think about that. "Any preliminary ideas on Sparky?"

Adela snorted. "Sparky. Who did you say named the creature?"

"A six-year-old human who thought she was a dog."

"The child is lucky it didn't devour her."

"The child is lucky Sparky was around to protect her from the other demon. Did you get the photo I sent you?"

"I did, but your description of its behaviours were more valuable to me. It sounds like a nasty variety of demon. Possibly not fully grown either, so we're lucky it has been dealt with. Its attacks increased in nature and ferocity until it went for a human child. Its capabilities make it sound like a lesser demon, so you see my concern. A higher demon isn't going to be defeated by our dear little Sparky here. A higher demon isn't going to waste its time on family pets either."

Phoenix sighed. "That's what I'm worried about."

"You should be worried about a resurgence of demonolatry," she said. "Now half the world believes, there will be curious humans seeking forbidden tracts. A Calling could even occur accidentally."

"We have people removing dangerous books from public view," Phoenix said. "Is there any way we can find out if there are higher demons here before it's too late?"

"If there are, they're in a dormant state or we would know for sure already. For all we know, the demons could be currently trapped between worlds, just waiting to be Called," Adela said. "That means we need to be ready if the time ever does come when one is fed back to full power or becomes aware of what it is and where it is. And most importantly, that nobody ever Calls a demon again."

"So it's possible that a demon might have been released and is so confused that it doesn't even know itself?"

"They're a complicated species made up of many various groups."

Phoenix immediately thought of the first vampire, Seth, and his desire to release Lucifer. "Could someone Call Lucifer?" he asked.

"Lucifer isn't a demon. Remember, he was an angel, once. Then again, anything is possible." Adela nodded at his children. "As you well know."

"They aren't your test subjects, Adela," he warned.

"That doesn't mean I can't learn from them. We half-breeds are hugely important in terms of the future, Prince of the Fae. Your kind may see them as lesser, but they have elements of every world in their blood and bones. They've been to Hell, for heaven's sake. When the real war comes, they will be among the victors."

"You're paranoid." He took a sip of his overly bitter coffee. It had gone cold while they chatted. "There won't be another war."

"And the unprepared will be the losers. People like me must prepare for anything because people like you refuse to see the truth."

"Why the rush to get us here?"

"The paragon wants you out of the way, Phoenix. You're better off here. No, I don't owe you anything, and I can't tell you where I got my information, but I trust in it, and I'd like to see you survive." Her gaze softened. "We need people like you to survive. I believe you're trying to do good things, despite the efforts against you. And if a paragon finds a demon, there's no saving her. And there's no saving us if a paragon finds a way to use a demon."

"Paragons are a higher power. Why would they even want to do such a thing?" he asked, interested in her point of view.

"You have little experience with paragons, I see," she said wryly.

"More than I'd like, but you're right. I don't know enough about their ways."

"They aren't good news, not for any of us. Just... be wary while you're in Italy. There are many enemies who wear smiles, many who would see you fail just to rise above you."

Just like home. "Enough," he said. "I have plenty of enemies without you adding to the list."

She smiled. "You have friends here, Féinics. It's so good to see you." Her gaze dropped. "Finally."

Something prickled at his spine, but he was too tired to work out what it had been. "Let me sleep, and we'll speak in the morning."

Although he stretched across a chair and tried to sleep, he watched as Adela observed Sparky who was completely obedient. Adela's words disturbed him. Talks of demons and wars and half-breeds did little to settle his nerves.

Sighing, he tried to relax and thought of home, but when he slept, Lucia's dream appeared to him again. Except this time, his wife had vibrant red hair and shouted at him to wake up before it was too late.

He awoke with a start as dawn was breaking. Adela was asleep in her chair with Sparky in her lap. He blew out a breath and stared up at the ceiling. Various pictures had been painted there. He wiped the sweat from his brow and wished he never dreamed. They were either disturbingly blank or disturbingly realistic. He couldn't afford to be clouded by his thoughts of home. He switched off his phone and hoped that nobody tried to call him. He didn't want them to know exactly where he was. He was probably being idiotic, listening to Adela's paranoia, but his past dictated that he should listen to even the minor concerns—just in case.

Chapter Six

Adela roughly shook him awake. He looked through bleary eyes to find Sparky licking his jaw. Groaning, he wiped his face dry.

"My assistants will start arriving soon. We need to remove Sparky from this floor." Adela hesitated. "It may be best if you aren't seen here during the day. There are always eyes watching."

He blinked a couple of times to clear his vision. "I never realised how paranoid you are."

"It's not paranoia when they're really out to get you," she said good-humouredly. "This place has been broken into frequently over the years." She cocked her head to the side in a birdlike pose. "Or rather, they've attempted."

"And what's stopped them, whoever they may be."

"Friends in high places." A worried look chased her amusement away. "None of us are truly free. Live long enough, and you become an indentured servant to somebody out there."

"Some of us free ourselves."

Her expression changed to something coy, almost as though she wanted to confide in him. "Some of us are not quite as brave as the likes of you. You had a hard time, and you earned your freedom back. But isn't all of that freedom a little terrifying? I'm not sure what I would do if I could do whatever I wanted." She glanced over her shoulder and shrugged. "Let's be honest. I'd probably do exactly the same as I do now."

That connected with him. He had been afraid of what would happen when he cut through the chains binding him. He had been set adrift, and he was a little lost, but the thought of going back to the nothing that was terrified him all the more.

"Freedom can be terrifying, but as you said, none of us are truly free. So who claims you, Adela? And for what purpose?"

"Knowledge is power. The old ways were all about violence, and we'll never fully break those ties to our world, but knowledge can be a far more devastating weapon than a bomb."

"Bombs." He snorted. "How human of you."

"Says the father of half-human children. Get them up now. I don't want to be attacked by that demon when I lock her upstairs."

"Attacked. You slept with her in your lap."

She smiled. "Be that as it may."

Phoenix woke the twins then carried Sparky upstairs. She settled into the makeshift bedsit flat comfortably with a plate of various meats and a salad bowl full of water.

"You'll need to feed her again during the day," Lorcan warned. "And she'll need to go outside. She doesn't like to relieve herself inside. It's almost like she were trained."

"Do you think she'll use a litter tray?" Adela frowned. "There is a tiny balcony. In the dark, that might be the safest option. Difficult to clean though. Perhaps one of my assistants will do something foolish enough to earn themselves a punishment today."

Shaking his head, Phoenix ushered them all back downstairs. "Can we tempt you with breakfast?" he asked Adela.

"Not today. I'm too busy. Will I be seeing you tonight?"

"I'll certainly check in with you," Phoenix replied.

She handed him a card. "This hotel looks the other way. It's owned by a marabbeca blow-in. Only been in town a century or two. It's a good place, just... don't stay in the bath too long. Don't ask. I've already told them you're coming. They'll give you a discount. Be careful on the way. You never know who's watching."

Phoenix hid his smile. "Always, Adela."

She gave the twins a panicked look. "Now, no running off with strangers. Oh, and here." She lifted a bag at her feet and handed it to Lorcan who gave his father an incredulous look. "Cream," she said. "For the sun. You're all so pale that it wouldn't do to—"

"We'll see you later," Phoenix said gently. "Thank you for your help, Adela."

"Don't forget to feed the dog," Lorcan called out as they left.

And then they were outside in the surprisingly warm early morning sun, getting a good look at the small Italian town they found themselves in. Adela's cliff-top neighbourhood was mostly made up of square yellow houses that had a beautiful view of the sea. The docks were full of well-cared for white yachts that gleamed in the sun. There was wealth in Adela's supposedly rustic little town—a sure sign of trouble, in Phoenix's experience.

"Let's find somewhere to eat first," Phoenix said as they wandered down the road. "Then we can head to the hotel Adela recommended."

Lucia gave him a plaintive look and tugged on her flowing skirt.

"Fine, we'll shop for clothes, too."

"Can you even speak Italian?" Lorcan asked.

"Ah. Not fluently, but I'm sure someone around here speaks English. I... we'll figure it out."

His children exchanged a doubtful look.

"Need a tour guide?" a female voice asked from close by.

Phoenix turned and caught sight of Rosa leaning against a sand-coloured stone wall at the corner. She removed her over-sized sunglasses with a grin. "Hello, again."

"Hey," Lorcan said, taking a step forward.

Phoenix held out his arm to stop him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm about to get some breakfast. Would you care to join me? I'm a native, technically. I could translate for you, show you the sights while you're here. It seemed like a last minute trip, so I thought you might need the help." She caught Lorcan's gaze, and her smile widened. "You did say we should keep in touch."

"I don't think—"

Lorcan pulled Phoenix a few feet away and lowered his voice. "Stop being weird, Dad. She likes me; I like her. That's all there is to it."

"She was on the plane. She was too interested in seeing Sparky."

"Sparky's safe. We're not in Ireland anymore. You can relax. This is supposed to be..." Lorcan hissed through his teeth. "None of us have had much of a life. Let's just enjoy this while we can. Adela clearly doesn't want us around during the day. What harm is there in being happy? In being normal?"

Phoenix's lips twitched. "Very convincing." He glanced over his shoulder. "I suppose she's pretty."

"Oh, shut up."

"Fine, we'll take up her offer."

Lucia rolled her eyes when they returned. She had a knowing look on her face when she stuck her tongue out at her brother.

"If I'm imposing," Rosa began.

"We'd appreciate your help," Phoenix said grudgingly.

"Great." She flashed unnaturally white teeth and beckoned them to follow. "I know the best place to get breakfast around here."

She led them down a set of narrow steps that brought them onto an uneven street that glistened in the sun. As they strolled, they came across a couple of locals. They passed by an old woman who took Rosa's hands and kissed them. A young man who was loitering at a corner stood up straight when he saw her approach. A family with young children paused when Rosa cooed over a little girl with jet black curls, but the mother did her best to shield her children behind her body and move the conversation swiftly along. Anyone they passed had a few words for Rosa. Many acted as though she were above them in an invisible pecking order.

Rosa held onto her sun hat as a sudden breeze threatened to free it from her head.

"The weather is pleasant for this time of year," Phoenix remarked.

Rosa gave him what he could only identify as a devilish grin. "Oh, it's always warm here. I prefer it that way."

Rosa's tone hinted that she had more to do with the weather than nature itself. Phoenix immediately wanted to leave. His mother had been a weather warden, but she preferred storms. Rosa was a dangerous enigma. He sighed as she flirted with Lorcan, acting perfectly normal. Perhaps he was as paranoid as Adela.

"Here we are." Rosa gestured toward the building to their right with a flourish. "This is my favourite place to eat on mornings like this."

It didn't look like an eatery of any kind. The darkened windows heralded a place that needed to be safe from the sun. Inside, they walked into an empty airy room that would always hold the distinct scent of old blood, no matter how many times it was cleaned or ventilated, and Phoenix's stomach sank.

"Through here," Rosa said, leading them into an even darker hallway. But the scent of food soon filled the air.

They came out into a garden filled with tables, chairs, and umbrellas. A rotund man greeted Rosa warmly. She ordered for them, explaining that many foods tasted better than they sounded. "Sometimes, tourists prefer not to know the ingredients." Her grin was mischievous and directed at Phoenix. He felt uncomfortable under her gaze, particularly when Lorcan was staring at her as though he wanted to lick her face. He restrained an eye roll at his own ridiculous thoughts. He was starting to sound like... somebody else.

Rosa sat at a table which seated four and relaxed, a subtle smirk upturning her lips. "What do you think of the place so far?"

"We haven't seen much of it," Lorcan said as he took a seat next to her.

Lucia sat as far away from Rosa as possible, leaving Phoenix to sit across from their new companion. The table was tiny and rickety, and the seats uncomfortable, but the scent and the pleasantly warm sun made the situation more pleasing.

"It's not very busy here," Phoenix remarked. "We're the only customers."

"They're not open yet." Rosa took a long sip from a tall glass of colourful juice that a young girl had delivered within seconds of them taking their seats. "I'm his best customer. He likes to do me favours."

"I have a feeling a lot of people like to do you favours," Phoenix muttered.

Her eyes widened. "It's a good life to aspire to."

"He's old-fashioned," Lorcan explained. "To him, favours are slavery."

Phoenix snorted softly, deciding not to force his son to recall the time one of his deals had left a woman with permanent scars because she had fulfilled her end of a "favour" with some delays.

The food arrived, and it was indeed delicious. Phoenix kept his eye on his daughter, but she seemed content to nibble fruit and watch her brother's overly-enthusiastic attempts at flirting. Her platinum white hair glistened in the sun. She appeared relaxed, but he still worried about her.

Perhaps that was unnecessary. She didn't speak, rarely communicated but in visions and dreams, and yet she had a large circle of friends and even a love interest. What was he doing wrong when he could only make one or two weak connections in life, even with a voice? Lorcan had once warned him that he spent too much time with werewolves. And it was true that his time locked away with the werewolves had damaged him, but the removal of his memories had altered him so much more severely. He had been so driven with rediscovering his past that he had forgotten to make use of the present or plan for a future.

Lorcan was asking Rosa about the area.

"It's not really a big tourist town," she explained. "Little shops, little people, big families. You know, the hotel you talked about heading to isn't the greatest. There's another place that might be—"

"No, thank you," Phoenix interrupted. "We'll be happy where we're going."

Her face fell momentarily. "Don't blame me when you get food poisoning." Her laughter echoed, and clouds covered the sun, leaving Phoenix with a chill.

After the food, Rosa directed them to their hotel—which was on the edge of town—with promises of meeting up again. As all three fae had only an overnight bag, they would be glad of some fresh clothing more suited to the climate. Although spring, the air was warm, even on a dull afternoon, in comparison to the clouds and rain they had left behind.

The hotel was small, but the staff were quiet and efficient.

"Why were you so interested in this place?" Lorcan asked in a bored tone.

Phoenix decided not to tell him he didn't trust Rosa. It wasn't only a matter of trust. He spent so many of his days forced to work with people he could barely stand that he spent most of his free time alone or with a chosen few. But it was the choice that mattered. With Rosa tagging along, he wasn't going to find much time to bond with Lorcan.

They booked three hotel rooms. All three rooms were small, but the views were pretty, and the bed sheets clean. In the silent white room, Phoenix found a moment of peace after he showered.

He sat on the floor and pulled a large box out from under the bed. He ran his hands over engravings that burned his fingertips, but he couldn't bring himself to open it. Inside was an assortment of secrets and treasures he needed to hide—or recall if his memories were stolen once again. Even memories that belonged to others were hidden in the container. What was inside could never been seen by those in his life because they would never understand. Some would never forgive him.

He shoved the box back under the bed as though stung. He sat cross-legged on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to balance himself anew. It took a lot of effort, but he'd had many years of practice. It was the one deed that had controlled the mindless acts of violence he had been compelled to indulge in during one stage of his life.

He reached over his shoulder and touched one of the many raised scars on his back. His life had been one of violence and darkness, but that didn't mean he had to choose to continue down that path. And that also meant he had to start trusting people. For whatever that might be worth. Maybe the world would surprise him for the better this time around.

The twins left him alone until hunger pains struck.

"One moment," he called out before quickly dressing. He answered the door, and for a moment, the plaintive expressions on their faces made them look younger. His heart skipped a beat. What had they been like as children?

"It's getting late," Lorcan said restlessly. "Let's go take a look around and get something to eat."

Phoenix took one last look at his room to ensure his box was hidden. He closed the door behind him. "Let's go."

They left the hotel and decided to head toward the docks.

"There's bound to be somewhere interesting to eat on the marina," Phoenix said.

The back of his neck prickled. He looked over his shoulder. There was a solitary male leisurely strolling down the road behind them. Nothing to be concerned with.

But before they reached the docks, they were surrounded by a group of men who piled out of a nearby building, a number of whom were holding bats.

Lorcan immediately pushed Lucia behind him. "Got a problem?" he said fiercely.

"Cloak yourselves," Phoenix said under his breath.

"But—"

"Get Lucia back to Adela."

Phoenix stepped in front of his children as they held hands and hid their presence, his fingertips itching to tear the surrounding men apart. The call was always there, beating in his eardrums, the beauty of violence, and the—

The apparently diligent Rosa turned the corner, wearing a new outfit. She spoke rapidly in a language that didn't quite sound Italian then made a gesture with her hand. The men glanced at each other before leaving.

Lorcan and Lucia broke contact, revealing themselves.

Rosa started, unable to hide her surprise. "What on earth?"

Lorcan grinned at Rosa. "What did the welcome committee want?"

"We don't get a lot of tourists." She slipped on a pair of sunglasses. "Our... neighbourhood watch is sometimes a little too cautious."

"Well," Phoenix said crossly. "Thank you for the help. We're about to have lunch together."

"I have an idea," she said brightly. "How does a change of plans sound?"

"What change?" Phoenix asked, still put out by her interference and the fact she had seen one of the twins' talents.

"Some quick shopping," she said laughingly. "For us girls especially. Then food and a trip to the local market. You never know what you'll find there. And if you don't have anything to do after dark, we can go to a great bar. The owner has a fine operatic voice, and he loves to have fresh ears. He'll put on a show for you, I promise."

Lorcan willingly agreed to all of her suggestions. They took a taxi to a row of small shops. Rosa bade the men to shop alone while she kidnapped Lucia. "We can't try on tonight's outfits in front of you," she scolded when Phoenix protested.

Lucia laid a small cold hand on her father's arm and gave him a look that said everything was going to be okay. He had to trust her.

"We'll meet you at the cafe on the corner then," Phoenix said after an agonisingly long moment in which he seriously considered packing everyone up and heading home. But how would he get there with a demon? It was best to rely on offers of help. For now.

The clothes shops were expensive, but good quality, and Phoenix indulged in Lorcan's encouragement and bought clothes that fitted in, according to his son. He felt out of place in jeans and a t-shirt, but they were on holidays. Nobody would see. He grit his teeth when Lorcan snapped a picture.

"You should cut your hair," Lorcan said, running his hand across the back of his shorn head. "All that hair must be killing you in this heat."

"And if hair is the source of our intelligence?" Phoenix said lightly.

"Funny. Can I call everyone at home and make them jealous yet?"

Phoenix frowned. "I'd rather we didn't let anyone know where we are. No phone calls or letters or emails."

Lorcan kept his face so blank while he agreed that Phoenix felt sure he had missed some method of communication.

"No telegrams either."

"Okay, old man. Top secret. I get it."

"Old? Humans think you're my younger brother."

Lorcan burst out into hysterical laughter. "That's because they can't see."

He was still giggling over Phoenix's puzzlement when they reached the cafe. Lucia was already there, wearing a new long sundress and a straw hat with a floppy brim. She ate ice-cream and stared at the group of Italians cooing over her.

Phoenix made to storm over when Rosa came out of nowhere and tapped his arm. "Relax. They're just in wonder over her hair. They call her a blessing. There's old stories about angels here, and a well that... never mind. It's a long story. The point is that she looks like one of the angels on the church paintings. I'll show you the one I mean, if you like."

Before he could answer, Rosa scattered the crowd around Lucia and sat next to her with a weary smile. Phoenix and Lorcan joined them at the table as the locals kept their distance. The people still watched from afar, apparently fascinated by Lucia's appearance.

Phoenix wondered about the old stories. Some human myths were based on reality while others were merely hysterical nudges pointing them away from reality. Either way, he was interested.

More shopping followed the ice-cream, and the interest in Lucia didn't dissipate. Phoenix wondered if that was partly why Rosa was so eager to spend time with his daughter.

By the time they hit the market, he was thoroughly bored. He eyed trinkets with disinterest, thinking of Sparky.

"Will you two be all right getting back to the hotel?" Phoenix asked the twins. "I'm going to pay Adela a visit."

"Already?" Rosa's lips quirked into a smile. "People will start to talk about you two."

"Quite," Phoenix said dryly.

"We'll be fine," Lorcan said. "I'll make sure Lucia gets back all right."

Phoenix shot him a stern look. His children might look like adults in human terms, but to the fae, they were but adolescents.

"I'll go home, too," Lorcan said with a sigh. "When I feel like it."

Phoenix didn't rise to the challenge. "Stay safe. Stay aware."

Lucia gave him a brief hug before following the other two. Rosa glanced over her shoulder and blew him a kiss. What was she doing with his family?

Shaking his head, he walked in the general direction of Adela's research building. The layout of the town was muddled but it would be hard to get lost. The streets seemed so familiar that—

Wait, they were familiar. How? He hadn't walked that way earlier. He had purposely chosen a different route to see more of the town. He kept walking in a daze until he found the street he saw in the dream. The buildings were mostly different, but the signs were the same, and the path still looked lopsided somehow.

His breath felt sharp as he inhaled deeply. This was it. The place in his dream, no, Lucia's dream of a memory he had lost. How did she have it? Had coming to the same town provoked some kind of a trigger? Or had it been his dream all along? Were his memories returning? But they were gone for good, so how could he dream of them?

He found the alleyway and walked halfway. It looked exactly the same. He had found his way to the same place of his honeymoon. A coincidence? Or was it something more? Adela had reached out to him after his mother's death, but had they met in the past? Had he come to her before? It just seemed too bizarre to be a coincidence. He laid his hands against the brick wall and inhaled. The air smelled like freshly baked bread.

A door at the end of the alley opened and an old woman stepped out. She took one look at him, and her face paled. Recognition. She knew him. Recognition and... fear. She muttered something apologetic and raced back inside, slamming the door after her. He could chase her, but why should he scare her even more than he already had?

He ran his thumbs across the red brick. He had once stood in that spot with a woman who loved him, a woman he had loved enough to leave his family and heritage behind. And then he had allowed himself to forget her, and she had grown old and died. But here, in this spot, he had felt passion and love. He had felt everything a man was supposed to feel. But even after dreaming about it, the sensations were still lost to him, and a part of him feared reconnecting with those old feelings. Why? He was broken. He had to be.

He left the alley and tried to see if any other places were recognisable. He found the front door of the bakery, but he didn't remember it. Inside, the old woman was rapidly speaking to a young man, her son perhaps, and her hands shook as she gestured.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The old woman's eyes grew wide with horror, and the young man folded his arms crossly. "Closed," he said. "Closed."

"I just want to know if she's seen me before. I don't remember, but I think I was here. Please. She can help me."

"Closed." The young man pointed at the door.

Sighing, Phoenix left and headed to Adela's place instead. Maybe he wasn't ready for the truth, even if everyone around was willing to give it to him. Perhaps he should change his look to avoid scaring old ladies. Lucia might have passed for an angel, but he probably more closely resembled a demon of some kind. At least, the kinds of demons that humans dreamed up.

Adela welcomed him inside when he arrived. One woman was still hard at work at a table, her dark curls falling onto the book she was hurriedly writing in.

"Polly's close to a breakthrough," Adela confided, unable to hide the pride in her words. She looked all around her and muttered, "Technically fluent in twelve languages, and yet I can never remember where I put my glasses."

Phoenix plucked the glasses from their precarious position on the top of her head and handed them to her.

"Ah," she said with a wry smile. "I should write myself a note to always check there first."

"You did," Polly called out without lifting her head. "You just forget to read it."

"And you see the way they respect me," Adela began, stopping herself, her forehead wrinkling, as she finally took in his distress. "Did something happen, my dear?"

"I've been here before, haven't I?" Phoenix asked in a low voice.

She gave him a worried look. "It doesn't do to worry about the things we can't change."

"So I really was here."

"Oh, Phoenix." She glanced over her shoulder at Polly. "Let's find some privacy."

She brought him into the studio flat upstairs. Sparky greeted him happily, as overjoyed as a dog on the return of its master.

"Shall I make some coffee?" Adela asked shakily.

"No. Let's get this over with."

The colour drained from Adela's cheeks. "We first met decades ago, and I considered you a friend. You came to me for help, but as it turned out, you gave me more help than I could return. I'm afraid that you wasted your time because I had cause to trap myself again. You were a different person then. I know you're starting afresh because of your memories." She held his hands. "Just know that I have always been fond of you, that I always appreciated how kind you were to me. You were here for reasons that no longer exist, and there's no point talking about them now."

"Adela, you can't keep this from me. You must tell me everything you know. On the way here, Lucia fell asleep and had some kind of a dream vision that I experienced, too. I saw myself on these streets, with Helena. An old woman almost had a heart attack when she saw me earlier. There's so much more to this than I ever imagined. Please, you're one of the few people who know what happened during those missing years. Can you tell me what you know? Please?"

He squeezed her fingers, allowing his desperation to flood his voice. So much about Adela made more sense now. She had to tell him what she knew.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "We don't need to talk about those days anymore, Phoenix. They're gone. They're over."

He remembered a flash of the dream, his hand on Helena's belly. "Was it my children? Did I come to you for the twins?"

She shook her head slowly. "You didn't come here for the twins. They were born years later. You never came back, but you sent me photos of them. I can... I can show you the pictures."

"Adela."

"You... didn't come about the twins. You came because of the first child."

And that was something Phoenix definitely hadn't been expecting to hear.

Chapter Seven

Phoenix had to sit down. "I have another child?"

"No." Adela's voice was soft. "The baby didn't make it."

"Oh." The air gushed out of his lungs. Of everything that he was numb to, why did that feel like a loss?

"There's no point dwelling on a past that caused you grief if those memories were stolen from you."

"I have to know. Tell me everything. Now. I can't... I can't go on pretending that nothing changed. You don't understand what it's like. There's this emptiness inside of me that I can never fill, and I've become obsessed with discovering what I've forgotten. It's a sickness. I'll never be whole again, but perhaps I can stop suffering so greatly if I can only know what's missing."

She sat next to him and sighed. "It was a long time ago. Different days."

"Adela."

"I'm talking, aren't I? Those aren't good memories for me, too. It's hard."

"I'm sorry."

"You've nothing to be sorry for. You're right. You need to know. I'm stalling because... well, it's not a good story."

"Is that why you didn't contact me to tell me what you knew? We've spoken, and you've never let on that you knew me." Although she had been comfortable around him for such a paranoid person.

"I didn't know how to make that call, how to dredge up the past so. I can see that not knowing affects you, but I truly thought it would be easier if I just let it go."

"Where did I go next? When we left you, did we—"

"You didn't tell me. It was a secret. The fewer who knew, the better. I only know what happened while you were here. I'll tell you, Phoenix, but you might regret hearing it all."

Phoenix closed his eyes and let her words float over him. Sparky leapt onto his lap and curled up as though she knew he needed comfort.

"You found out that Helena was pregnant, and you eloped with her. You chose this place because you needed to get in touch with me, and you couldn't do that from Ireland. I was under the control of a group of highly possessive, nasty creatures, and I wasn't allowed contact with the outside world." She made a sound of disgust. "Not that you were in a better position. After your father's death, your mother did her best to lock you down."

"But why did I need to contact you?"

She patted his arm. "You were terrified that there would be something wrong with the baby, or that the pregnancy would kill Helena. You didn't tell her because it was already too late, but you grew up with stories about weak humans, horror stories about what comes of a union between human and fae. And Helena was a witch on top of all that. You had nightmares that you feared might be prophesies. It was a tough time for you in any case. You were in fear of your mother tracking you down."

"That sounds... I deceived Helena into coming here."

"No, you wanted to give her a special honeymoon in a safe place far from home. That part was true. And you had heard of my research somehow. Perhaps you just needed reassurance. But when you arrived, you weren't allowed to see me, and I wasn't permitted to help anyone without permission from the family who ran this place. You told Helena about me, and both of you fought to free me from my invisible chains. In return, I told you everything I knew."

"What did you know?"

"Not so much. There had been some cases of loss, but it was a time when there was a higher risk for women. Medicine has come so far that the risks are now negligible. But for Helena, something did go wrong. That woman you saw today was a midwife, before the big hospital was built. She was there when Helena lost your first child."

"And that's why she was so horrified? Shouldn't she be used to miscarriages?"

"Miscarriages, yes."

His eyes flung open at the tone of her voice. "What is it?"

"The baby was too small to survive, but the reason a miscarriage occurred was because someone had done something to harm the child. A curse or something of that nature. The child was badly deformed, and that was unsettling enough, but you almost lost your mind. You blamed your mother, swore that she would never have the chance to do the same thing again, and..."

"And?"

"And you scared everyone. You looked like a different creature."

"You were there?"

"I had to be. You two had done so much for me, and at first, you blamed me. Your help probably triggered the miscarriage, but the child would never have survived. That was clear to anyone who saw the poor baby. It was clear to you, and it almost broke you."

"What did I do?"

"Destroyed things, projected... energy. Those who ran the town came for me, but they couldn't defeat you. You're one of our local legends. Children speak of the demon angel who comes to punish the bad."

"They think I'm a monster," he said.

"You're not a monster. You thought you were free, and your past ruined your happiness. But when the fighting was over, your anger melted away, and all that was left was the grief. You were in so much pain that I feared you might never smile again. Helena had already started to recover—for a time, I feared she might die, too—and she helped you through it. She told you that you would be a father, that she would try again to be a mother, that she would do everything in her power to protect herself this time. You were ready, and you knew what your mother was capable of. She was a terrible woman. I was late to hear the news of her death, but I admit that I celebrated that day."

He ran his hands across his face. It was too much to process. Adela left his side and momentarily disappeared. When she returned, she handed him an envelope.

He opened it warily. Inside were a number of old photos. Two babies, side by side in a crib. Helena holding a child in each arm, looking content as she rested in a rocking chair. And then finally he and Helena together, a bouncing toddler in each arm. He stared at his face, struggling to recognise himself. His smile was too bright, too light-hearted—more like Lorcan.

It was bizarre to see a cheerful version of himself. The way he and Helena sat next to each other... so at ease. Their shoulders touched, and his old self looked as though the contact were of no consequence. Phoenix felt every touch since his reawakening as though it were seared into his skin. An intense longing grew in his stomach, and he put the photo at the back of the pile.

He gazed at the next photo of the twins together. Wrapped up in green and yellow blankets, their eyes were closed, but their tiny fingers gripped onto each other as if their lives depended on it. And they had. As they grew up, holding on to each other had been the way they survived. The longing was replaced with guilt and affection and grief. He mourned for those two tiny souls he had forgotten. He had missed their childhood, and that was something he could never change, no matter how close they became in adulthood.

And perhaps he needed to do more, with Lorcan, with Lucia, to forge bonds that couldn't be broken. He had to make more of an effort with them. He regretted leaving them to find Adela. He should have been cherishing every second in their company.

"I'm going to take Sparky downstairs," Adela said softly. "Come down when you're ready."

She left him to his thoughts. He sank deeper into his seat, unable to cope with the myriad of emotions surrounding him.

He needed to fix the past, but that wasn't possible. He'd never have known about the first child if it wasn't for Adela. And he was the monster from a local legend. How was a man supposed to even start dealing with this new information? For a moment, he wished he were home so he could talk about everything with someone uninvolved. An unbiased voice. He rolled his shoulders. He had to man up.

He followed Adela back downstairs and watched her study Sparky. Polly was already gone. Adela tested the creature's saliva, fur, even took skin and blood samples. Sparky lay there patiently, as though used to the treatment.

"If she were some kind of guardian or hunter, she could be bred from." Adela spoke into a dictation machine. "If another of her kind was found, the specimens would be pure, and the breeding could be natural, but looking into mixing species may also be worthwhile."

"That might be dangerous."

"Everything is dangerous," she murmured. "We just need to control as much as we can. I'm not planning on forcing Sparky into a breeding program. This is just for my notes. She seems healthy and strong, but where has she been? The demons were trapped in the book, perhaps, but what was the book? A frozen state of existence? Another world? Was Sparky sent elsewhere, or was she trapped? Did she feel the years pass by, or was it as though mere seconds had passed?"

"It sounds as though we're creating questions rather than answering them," Phoenix remarked.

"This is research," she said. "Mixing the facts with questions to create links and connections. Who banished her in the first place? What kind of power was used? Can we repeat it? What exactly is she capable of? Sparky must remain with me, Phoenix. There are too many questions to answer to risk losing her. And if she leaves this building, she could indeed be lost."

"You mentioned Regis, the paragon, on the phone. Truthfully now, why does his return to Ireland worry you?"

"I'm worried about you and your children." She pressed her lips into thin lines as she straightened pages on the table. "I've never met Regis, only heard of him. And what I've heard points to him being a risk. He's known for campaigning to wipe out species, but how many people thought the werewolves were wiped out? This could be a tipping point. This world is brand new. There's so much suspicion and conflict still. Too few countries have officially acknowledged the presence of people like you and me. We bring fear and hysteria. A creature like Sparky who doesn't look like a human would instil so much more panic than we ever could."

"Are you saying the paragon might want to take Sparky?"

"Take her, kill her. It's all the same. The paragons as a whole can't be trusted."

"Can any higher power?"

"Power corrupts." She looked up at him from her notes. "Has it corrupted you yet?"

"Nobody is immune. Although if anyone gets voted off the Senate, it'll likely be me. I don't have enough friends, I'm often told."

"Friends can betray you," she murmured absentmindedly. She ticked off a few items on a list.

"What are you hoping to find?"

She dropped her pen and met his eyes. "Something that might change the world we live in for the better."

***

He strolled toward the hotel in the dark, wondering if his children had returned yet. He had spent too long with Adela, mourning his old life and trying to persuade her to let him bring some of her old literature back to Dublin. The photos were safely in his pockets for later.

He switched on his phone and ignored the calls and messages to leave a message of his own for the Senate letting them know he was still alive, at the very least. He stared at his phone for a moment, seriously considering calling a friend, but he wasn't ready to talk. Not yet.

Outside the hotel, at the corner, he spotted Lorcan and Rosa giggling together, looking very close. Smiling, he decided not to disturb them, but he envied his son. Not because of Rosa but because he was capable of feeling such lightness in another person's company. Phoenix had obviously been capable of the same thing in his past life, but this time round, he was different.

Inside the hotel, he came to his room and changed his mind. He knocked on Lucia's door instead. When she opened the door, he pulled her into a soundless hug, thinking of the life she had suffered without him. He couldn't let anything happen to her again. Not to either of them. When he let her go, she had a small smile on her lips.

"Good night," he said. "I'm just glad you're both here with me."

And when he headed into his own room, he lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a long time, piecing together the story Adela had fed him in an attempt to see what happened. Maybe there was a way for him to truly "see" what happened.

Chapter Eight

He wasn't brave enough to see the truth yet, but there was someplace else he needed to go. One morning, while the twins were on a trip to the beach, he worked up his courage to visit the local cemetery to find a grave Adela had promised him was still cared for.

The graveyard was next to the church. He hadn't noticed it before. The cemetery was full, and a new one had been created outside of town, according to Adela. But his premature child had been given a space in the original burial grounds, paid for with money he had given Adela a long time ago.

He followed Adela's directions through the graveyard until he came to a section dedicated to those who hadn't lived a day. In the very corner, with a modest headstone and a tiny marble angel was a grave marked only as Genevieve, aside from the date of her birth. Genevieve. His firstborn.

He knelt at the tiny grave. Had his mother ever had a heart? This little life had been snuffed out before she had a chance. All because of the woman who gave him life. He had run, but not fast enough. She always found him out in the end.

Someone had to have betrayed him. Somebody had to have worked against him on her behalf. And now he understood why he had agreed to forget his own children in the first place. He knew what his mother was capable of.

He brushed off the anger to concentrate on the grave. It was well-kept and cleaned regularly. The date put Genevieve's birth at least five years before the twins. So what had happened in those years? The usual frustration gripped him and refused to leave. Another child he had forgotten.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing his hand against the headstone. And then he let himself mourn the child he never knew, and somehow, that was more real than the memories he saw of his wife.

***

He met the twins for lunch and picked at his food, entirely disinterested in eating. He couldn't get the grave out of his head, nor the circumstances of his firstborn's death. He wracked his brains for answers but found none. There was no way his mother could have harmed Helena without assistance. A lot of people who were loyal to his mother had died in the war. If any of them still lived...

"Dad?"

Phoenix blinked and focused his children. Both looked concerned, and he shook himself off.

"Sorry, what?"

Lucia nudged Lorcan who widened his eyes at her before speaking. "So, we were thinking about hanging out with you for a while this evening. At Adela's. See how things are going with Sparky."

He flinched. He had almost forgotten the demon dog. He was far too wrapped up in his past.

"You'll be bored." He took a sip of his drink. "I don't expect you to give up your holiday for—"

"We want to," Lorcan said. "You seem preoccupied. Are you worried about Sparky? Do you want us to go home?"

Phoenix forced a smile. "I just have a lot on my mind. Don't worry about me. You're both more than welcome to join me at Adela's."

He assumed they would forget the offer as soon as Rosa came sniffing around. Later that afternoon, when Rosa inevitably found them as usual, Lorcan let her down gently himself. Rosa's face fell.

"Well," she said at last. "I'll be in the bar if you change your mind. Bring your dad along. He looks absolutely miserable." She turned her back on them and sashayed away.

"I think she's pissed off," Lorcan said, giving her one last long, appreciative stare.

"You can change your mind," Phoenix said.

Lucia gave Lorcan a sharp look when he hesitated. "No," he said with a heavy sigh. "I want to spend time with you two."

They went to Adela's research building early, bringing with them gifts of food for Adela and her researchers.

"Oh, I love you," she said without looking up when they entered the room. "I can smell it from here."

"We thought you all might be hungry," Lorcan said, leaving a bag on the table.

"Take a break," Adela told her researchers. "Go eat outside. It's a beautiful day."

"It's always a beautiful day," Polly said wryly. But she shepherded the others out of the building without complaint.

"Brought a little something for Sparky, too," Lorcan said as Adela locked the door behind her staff.

"Oh, good. Go get her, my dear."

Lorcan fetched the demon and fed her while Adela picked at her food. Despite claiming to be hungry, she appeared to forget to eat, she was so keen on giving verbal updates about her research.

Phoenix smiled at her enthusiasm.

"What kind of tests do you do on Sparky?" Lorcan asked. "You don't hurt her, do you?"

"Somehow, I don't think she'd let anyone hurt her," Adela said with a grin. "She doesn't mind needles. She refused to allow me to send her to sleep, on the other hand."

"Out of instinct then," Phoenix said. "How would she know what it did?"

"Something in the ingredients must have smelled bad to her." Adela fed the demon food from her plate. "I decided it would be best to trust her judgement."

"And the research subject leads the way," Phoenix replied as Sparky leapt onto the chair next to him to relax with her gifted food.

"What would you do to Lucia and me?" Lorcan asked.

Phoenix sat up straight. "Lorcan."

"I'm serious," his son replied. "If we wanted to know more about ourselves, what would you do with us?"

"I'd start by getting you to show me what, if any, abilities you possess. I'd run a medical exam, standard step. If we were comfortable together, I might see how you perform under a stress test, then take it from there."

"All right," he said. "Do it. Test me."

Adela removed her glasses. "I don't think your father would—"

"For me," Lorcan said, striding over to her. Lucia followed and nudged him. "For us. We want to know more. We think... we think there's so much more to know."

"Every person on this planet has hidden depths," Adela said. "Phoenix?"

He thought about it. "It's their decision. As long as their results are not shared with anyone without their permission, and you stop as soon as either of them is uncomfortable, then I don't see a reason to prevent your little experiment."

For the next hour, Adela asked questions, performed minor experiments, and had a good long discussion with Lorcan. Phoenix listened, wondering what had brought on the change of heart.

"Is it possible that they inherited power from their mother?" he asked. "Some kind of natural ability in the way of magic."

"Of course," Adela said. "But they have such a connection, that they may need to be in close proximity to one another to unlock their potential. Of course," she added with a grin, "I happen to believe that everyone can break past their limits. These two have magic on both sides. That had to influence them in a physical sense. And now that they know where they came from, it might be time to push themselves and see what they discover."

Lorcan was looking very thoughtful. By the way he and Lucia exchanged glances, Phoenix might think that they had already pushed those limits.

***

When Lucia showed signs of being tired of the tests, Lorcan ended the proceedings.

"We still have time to head to the bar," he said, looking at his father. "Why don't you join us?"

Phoenix hesitated. "I don't think—"

"Oh, what are you afraid of?" Adela asked huffily as she pulled free a piece of paper that had been speared by Sparky's horn. "That you might have fun? Go, relax, spend time with your family."

Lucia slipped her hand in Phoenix's and squeezed.

He looked down on her and smiled. "Maybe I won't spoil their holiday by being seen with them once or twice."

"Just don't make a habit of it, old man," Lorcan quipped breezily. He ran his hand across Sparky's back. The creature pressed against his legs and let out a whimper of happiness. "Maybe we should get a dog," he added laughingly.

"Come on then," Phoenix said. "Before it gets too late. Us ancients need a lot of sleep, you know."

The trio said their goodbyes and left. For once, Phoenix felt a part of their group. As they headed down dark streets to the bar, Lorcan regaled them with anecdotes from the cul-de-sac they had once sought safety within. Phoenix found himself laughing along with his son. And when he caught Lorcan's eye, his own feelings were mirrored there: they could make it work as a family.

The bar was lit up, and the seats in the garden were all full as humans and supernaturals alike listened to a plump old man singing a well-known operatic arrangement.

"He's good," Phoenix said when they finally managed to get the bartender's attention.

"He's the owner," Lorcan explained as he guided his sister onto a barstool before anyone else took it. "Apparently, he used to sing professionally before he retired. Now he does this instead of manning the bar."

Phoenix was about to reply when a lean figure barrelled into his side and almost fell to the ground. He helped the man right himself before realising it was a vampire. A rather intoxicated one.

The vampire sniffed then stiffened, his gaze locked onto Phoenix's. "Fae," he hissed.

Phoenix bristled, readying himself for an attack—vampires as a rule had never been keen on the fae—but Lorcan got there first. He shoved the vampire away from his father. The vampire fell into a crowd of people who rapidly dispersed.

"Careful who you're bumping into," Lorcan snapped, his cheeks flooding with colour.

The vampire's pupils dilated until the only colour left was a thin crimson circle. He opened his mouth wide, his fangs clearly on display.

"Is that supposed to be scary?" Lorcan scoffed. "I've fought the first of your kind, and guess what, he didn't make it."

"Seth," the vampire whispered then lunged for Lorcan.

Phoenix gripped the vampire's neck and pushed back before the creature could bite his son. The vampire whipped out his hand and sliced Phoenix across the chest with his nails. Phoenix let go, but Lorcan punched the vampire.

"Don't touch my family," he said, too loudly. Half the bar was watching.

Rosa strode over and fearlessly stepped into the middle of the fight. She didn't speak a word, only glared at the vampire until he lowered his head and reluctantly left. The singing started anew, and most of the occupants of the bar returned to their conversations.

"Do you have to boast about fighting Seth?" Phoenix asked shakily.

"Yes," Lorcan said. "Yes, I do." And he grinned at his father.

Rosa turned to them, her eyes dark with anger. "Vampires." She nodded at Lucia, her lips twitching. "And this one didn't even put down her drink."

Phoenix smiled at his daughter who looked entirely unconcerned by the row. "Fae aren't scared of vampires," he said, slapping his son on the back.

And fae stick together, no matter what, he mentally added.

Chapter Nine

Time passed in a kind of a routine. Every morning, he would spend time with the twins, and invariably, Rosa, too. She drew all attention to her when he was present, as though she were some kind of energy vampire, sucking all focus onto her and only her. But his children seemed entertained by her, even Lucia was warming to her, and that was good enough for the new Phoenix. For now.

In the afternoons, he wandered the streets looking for reminders or clues of what had transpired in the past. As it happened, the church next to the graveyard turned out to be the one that Rosa had mentioned. He frequently went there, needing a place to settle his mind whenever he saw Genevieve's grave.

Inside the church, on a large wall unmarred by windows, was a chipped painting of an angel standing over a pile of bodies. The angel had snow-white hair and a sloping nose, and his eyes were blue rather than Lucia's green. But he could see why the locals were so enthralled with his daughter. The angel looked fragile and feminine, but at his back was another figure, a duality to the light. This figure was shrouded in darkness, and his blade dripped with blood. An odd image for a church, Phoenix thought.

He sat in one of the rows of seats and gazed at the stained glass windows. Most of the depicted scenes were unnervingly violent. How strange the way humanity liked to replicate something so dark. And it was probably stranger the way he turned up at the same church every afternoon despite having no affiliation with its religion. But there was a peace that he enjoyed, a silence that wasn't suffocating. Something in the air chilled his skin, an atmosphere filled with every human emotion possible. It touched him, but it didn't possess him. It wasn't as though he were a part of it. But he sat adjacent to it, and perhaps one day he would uncover the shroud and climb beneath it to be like everyone else.

He passed the bakery whenever he left the church, only partly by necessity. He wanted to see the old woman again, to speak to her, perhaps to use her. She held memories he needed to see. He wanted to see himself on his worst days, to find out what a man like he might be capable of.

In the evenings, he joined Adela and Sparky and helped with her investigations. They looked through mountains of books for more references to the appearances of demons in the past. To avoid repeating history, they had to live in the past for at least a little while.

"Why was so much lost?" he asked in frustration after a particularly long search led him nowhere.

"Stories were passed on through speech. Storytellers kept history alive, but it got mixed up and jumbled along the way. Books were expensive and rare, even more so now. Collectors are likely hoarding what we need. And the rest is permanently lost." She shrugged. "As I said, knowledge is power. And somebody somewhere has all of the power."

"Perhaps it's pointless having Sparky here."

She frowned at him. "Phoenix, if the paragon finds out that Sparky is real, you'll never have a moment's peace again."

"Unless I deal with him."

"You can't just deal with a paragon. They are a higher power. They can only be dealt with by one of their own. You don't want to get into the middle of them. Higher powers can't be trusted."

He frowned. Maybe she was right. But who could be trusted?

"I need a break," he announced. "This is too much, even for me."

"Relax, have fun, enjoy your time here, but feel free to return. Sparky is safe with me, and we have already made some discoveries. I'm pretty sure we can trace her back to a mixed breed species from millennia ago. There are some obscure references that match her appearance, if not closely, then at least close enough. And if I'm on the right track, she really was a guardian, used by other kinds to track down the worst kinds of demons. If something terrible did come out of that book, then Sparky might be a gift. We must keep her safe."

Phoenix nodded. "You're right. And I do have responsibilities at home, but the twins are having so much fun here that I hate to interrupt their visit." He waved a hand. "I still need air. I'll see you both tomorrow if you're not sick of my face."

"You were my knight in shining armour, once upon a time. I'll never be sick of your face."

She immediately threw herself back into work and had likely forgotten him by the time he shut the front door behind him. He might have been a hero to Adela once, but he was the bad guy in somebody else's version of events.

He walked by the bakery as the old woman was closing up. He cleared his throat to get her attention. She glanced over her shoulder, spotted him, then pressed her back against the door and shook her head, speaking pleadingly in rapid Italian.

He held up his hands. "I won't hurt you. I won't. I wouldn't. I just want to know. I just have to see."

He closed the space between them, unable to resist the lure of her memories. The only way he felt the true depth of emotion was through the memories of another. The temptation to see had become a guilty secret, a twisted addiction that he alone possessed.

The old woman shrank back from him, her eyes full of fear and tears. She kept speaking, but he couldn't understand a word.

"You're safe," he said. "You're safe with me. I just have to..." He held his hands out to her and ran them through her hair. She cowered, but he held her tight, and then he dipped inside her mind. Strange, how he could control memories of others, and yet be so utterly helpless with his own.

He zipped through the important memories, the easy ones, the ones at the forefront of her mind. Marriages, babies, so many babies, afternoons in the sun, fruit bowls from somebody's orchard, and glasses of homemade wine—every memory wrapped in love. She'd had a good life.

He pushed farther, probing into the back of her mind. She whimpered as though sensing him looking for her locked box, the place she kept her worst memories, death and fear and the bad secrets she never thought of anymore. At the bottom, buried underneath everything else, was her memory of him.

Steeling himself, he jumped straight in and experienced it for himself, through her eyes.

Her hands were full of blood. Helena still moaned, but the sounds were weaker now. Blood flowed freely. If it didn't happen soon, the mother wouldn't make it.

"Help me press her womb," she ordered Adela. "The child is already dead. Our only hope is to save her."

"What's happening?" Phoenix demanded in English. "Tell me what's happening."

She let Adela explain while she worked on. Birth was a beautiful thing until it wasn't. And this stranger was losing her baby in a foreign country. How heart-breaking it must be for them both. The man was odd, different in a way that was more than foreign, but the woman had spoken gently to her even in the greatest spasms of pain and fear. She pressed hard on Helena's womb, trying to push what was left out.

Sweat trickled down her back. Too much time had passed. It was getting late. The doctor hadn't arrived, not that he ever did.

And finally, in a bed of blood and sweat and tears, an abomination was born. She swore under her breath as she wrapped up the tiny deformed body. A blessing then that the body had purged the creature.

Phoenix took the baby from her, held the swaddled form tight in his arms, and he cried. "My daughter," he whispered. "My only child."

The mother had passed out, but she would recover.

She began to clean up when she overheard Adela who was looking at the child in horror.

"A curse," Adela said, aghast. "Somebody did this to your child. Somebody wanted to punish you. Oh, Phoenix, I'm so sorry."

"She would never have lost my child if we hadn't helped you," he said mournfully.

"The child was never meant to live," Adela said firmly, and she took the bundle from the man's shaking hands.

His head was bowed, and his shoulders shook. But a chill filled the room, and she stopped moving because a feeling of dread had come over her. Her great-grandmother had the sight, and sometimes, sometimes she herself saw things before they happened. That was why she stepped back from the man before he rose his head.

She blessed herself rapidly when she caught sight of his face. His skin gleamed, and his green eyes turned black. He punched the wall with a great roar of pain and anger. His hair was tied back into a tight bun, and the veins in his neck plainly glowed as they protruded from his skin. He ripped the door from its hinges and flung it aside. Adela squeaked in terror.

He strode out of the room, and she hesitated, unwilling to see this demon at work. The damage he wrought would forever scar her home. She just knew it. Sensed it before it could happen.

She pointed at Adela accusingly. "You brought the devil to us. If the child wasn't dead, I'd kill it."

He pulled himself out of her memories and caught her before she fell. She was blubbering, muttering the same word over and over again. He held her in his arms, even though he had just seen her threaten his own child. But he had seen himself, too, and he agreed. He had looked like a devil.

He stroked her hair and delved in again, this time finding her happiest memory. He forced her to relive it, and then he set her on the step in front of the shop. She seemed in a dream, but at least she had stopped crying.

He left her there and walked away, flexing his fingers. The vision and the information and everything else was a lot to think about. He was glad she hadn't followed him, hadn't seen what he did next. He no longer wished to know. She called him diavolo, feared his very existence.

But more importantly, his mother had killed his first child. He didn't know how, but it had to be her, or someone working at her bidding. And Helena had suffered yet another tragedy because of him. This human he loved had known her first child was killed because of him, and she hadn't just forgiven him, she had risked more losses. And his mother had given them to her. Where did it stop? When would he feel better about the woman who had birthed him but destroyed everything he loved?

Her only motive had been a thirst for power, and he felt the threads of that very same compulsion tighten around him on a daily basis. It took the upmost effort not to turn into the same kind of monster as his mother.

He wandered around the town, barely looking where his feet were taking him, until he arrived back at the hotel, his head still full of turmoil.

"You look upset," Rosa said.

He looked around to see her leaning against a wall alone, her keen gaze on him.

"Do you ever go home?" he asked.

"I just walked Lorcan to his room," she said with a smirk. "I'm on my way home now if you'd like to escort me."

"Not particularly."

"You know, there's a story I used to hear about a man who looked awfully like you."

He froze.

"They called him a reaper. He destroyed a family of evil and looked like some kind of vengeance demon. Perhaps you were related."

He glared at her before going inside. He didn't need to hear any more stories.

***

The church was cool and peaceful as usual. Tranquil, really. Phoenix took advantage of the quiet morning to sit in a pew at the front, close to the altar. The church was adorned with tributes to belief. He wondered how that belief had been affected when the supernatural world became public. In one sense, it was a justification of years of faith, and in another, people like him had destroyed every notion of belief.

He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. The painting was beautiful but dark, a tragic reminder of sacrifice and crucibles. These people preached forgiveness and charity, but how would the world react when it found out about creatures like Sparky? Likely the way they had when the spotlight shone on people like himself. Or his children. His own people were wary of the twins, uncomfortable with the idea of half-blooded royalty, but he himself shunned the old ways. He used the title of prince only when he had to, and he hadn't pushed titles on his own children. Perhaps it would have been best if he did. Back in Ireland, there were rumblings of a group of people declaring that God had lit a spotlight on the supernatural world in order for it to be eliminated.

The old woman had thought him evil, and he wondered if that was how people thought of him every day, if even the human members of the government and Senate and police force thought the same when they looked at him. They saw him as dangerous, but did they assume he was evil? He didn't know himself what he was. He thought he could do good, but he was capable of terrible deeds, too. Fae blood ran deep, whether he liked it or not.

"It's beautiful, is it not?" a male voice said.

Phoenix sat up straight and noticed a long-sleeved priest observing him with interest.

"It's... complicated," Phoenix said. "Darkness and light."

"That's life." He gestured toward Phoenix. "I see you here every day, and I hear my people whisper about the strangers."

"I'm sure you do. I must seem terrifying."

"No, no. We are protected here."

"Protected? By whom?"

"A growing power."

"And what does this power ask for in return?"

"Loyalty." The priest smiled. "And some donations. Not too much. Enough to keep everyone happy."

"Until this power decides to raise the price," Phoenix warned.

"You would be surprised what people will do to feel safe. But you, every day you come back here alone. Is this an escape or penance?"

Phoenix blinked. "Can't it be both?"

"Of course. Would you like to confess?"

He swallowed hard. "Confess what?"

"Your sins. You look troubled. Do you wish to ease your guilt?"

A lump rose in his throat. "Yes, but I don't think a confession will quite do the job."

His rage was unforgiving, and the fruitlessness of his many questions distracting. He bid good day to the priest and left the church. He found the local library, and after an infuriatingly inept conversation in both Italian and English using his phone to badly translate, the librarian finally came up with what Phoenix had been looking for: the town's newspaper archives.

He went back through many years of dull, uninteresting reports in which nothing happened. The town had been blessed for quite a while, and Phoenix wondered if that had something to do with the influence of the protector the priest had mentioned.

But finally, he found stories of his days in town. Destruction, mayhem, death and loss. That was what he had wrought on a small community in his grief. There had been innocents injured in the battle, businesses damaged or destroyed. He had brought chaos to an undeserving town.

The priest couldn't give him absolution, but he could still pay his own kind of penance. And he spent the next couple of days donating to the church, local charities, and a certain bakery to appease his guilt. It didn't help him, but maybe that wasn't the point.

***

Phoenix finally persuaded Lorcan to ditch Rosa for the morning and hired a car to travel to a water park. One thing his memories had convinced him of was the fact that nothing was more important than family. And if it took this mental crucible to improve his relationship with Lorcan, then it was worth it. But Lucia needed his attention, too. She was so much more receptive to the notion of family; perhaps because she held the memories of family in her hands.

"Imagine being a kid and getting to do this," Lorcan declared after an hour of rides and ice-creams. "It's just... fantastic."

"We adults are lucky we get to do this too," Phoenix said with a sigh. "I know you don't like to talk about it, but maybe we should get into what happened to all of us."

Lorcan took a seat on a bench and blew out a breath. "What's brought this on?"

Phoenix hesitated. Lucia took his hand and made him sit between her and Lorcan. She squeezed his hand encouragingly, giving him a meaningful look. If he wanted Lorcan to talk, he had to share first.

"I... I found out some things since coming here," he explained. "Things that make me... well, it doesn't change much, just reinforces what we already know."

Lorcan frowned. "I thought we were here for Sparky."

"We are, but I've discovered... I've been here before."

Lorcan shot him an interested look. "You don't remember it, do you?"

Phoenix shook his head. He glanced at Lucia before continuing, wondering if she already knew. She was a secret-keeper. "I was here with your mother many years ago. On our honeymoon. She was pregnant."

Lorcan brightened. "Really?"

"She wasn't pregnant with you. She lost the baby, was... forced to lose the child. A girl. Genevieve. There's a grave close to Adela's building, actually."

"That's bizarre," Lorcan said.

"I know. I... apparently I came here to see Adela because I was worried about the baby, and when she warned me someone had tried to do your mother harm, I went crazy and killed the family who ran this town. They were gangsters, supernatural mobsters, most likely, and I destroyed them in my rage. That's... that's what I'm capable of."

"Your mother did it, didn't she? Hurt our mother, I mean, and... our sister. That sounds so weird."

"Most likely she had a hand in it. It doesn't matter now. She's dead, too. What matters is... I saw another piece of my past, and I need to find out more. I want to meet people who knew me then. I want to find out if there's anyone living who worked for my mother, people who betrayed us."

"You want revenge?" Lorcan asked doubtfully. "Isn't it time we move on?"

"I lost a huge chunk of my life," Phoenix said slowly. "And you two lost everything you knew. If there's any chance some of those loyal to my mother survived the war, then we could still be in danger."

"Why can't you just let the past go?" Lorcan said glumly. "Look at today. We made new memories, a new past for ourselves."

Lucia nodded in agreement.

"I don't know who I am," Phoenix admitted. "I hear I did something good on one hand, but then I immediately cancel it out with something awful. What kind of man am I?"

The twins exchanged a look. Something passed between them that Phoenix didn't understand.

"It doesn't matter who you were," Lorcan said at last. "What's important is who you choose to be from now on."

"I want to be a father. I want to be... happy. I spent a long time confused and unsure, freezing my reactions to survive. And I sometimes wonder if the taking of my memories dulled my emotional range, too. That part of me has been mostly muted for too long."

"So we'll teach you how to have fun," Lorcan said. "And you'll get used to feeling things again. Maybe you'll meet someone, Dad, make something new to replace what you've lost."

But there were no replacements. Lucia rested her head on his shoulder, and a cloak of peace appeared to gather around him. Maybe, with their help, he could become whole again.

Chapter Ten

Between making amends with the town and his conscience, and fitting in time with the twins, Phoenix had begun to avoid Adela. Thinking of her only reminded him of the violence in his eyes, the demonic shift the old woman had seen. Most fae were cold and calm due to effort rather than nature; losing control wasn't pretty.

Phoenix was sitting in his hotel room, staring at the locked box and wondering if there had been memories that he had been happy to give up, when the phone in his room rang.

Reception informed him that a woman was waiting for him downstairs. He assumed it to be Adela, or perhaps Rosa, but it was the research assistant, Polly, who awaited him.

He found her sitting primly in reception, her back straight, and her eyes focused on the receptionist with a steady glare.

"Not friends?" he asked as he sat next to Polly.

Polly muttered a few words in Italian before pulling herself together. "Old news," she said. She met his curious gaze without fear. "Adela sent me to invite you to help her with her work later. She's concerned." Polly narrowed her eyes. "I never see her like this. You will visit her, and everything will go back to normal."

"What's normal again?" he murmured.

"Yes," she said as though he had agreed. "You will come back, and she will stop worrying." She stood and pressed her hands against her skirt as though to straighten invisible wrinkles.

"Why do you work for Adela?" he asked on a whim.

She put on her glasses and shrugged. "Who else is there?"

He watched her walk away and decided it was time to return to Adela. It was more than time to return home, for that matter, but he couldn't bring himself to end the trip.

That evening, after dinner with the twins, he went back to Adela's research building. She greeted him as though there had been no absence, but Sparky seemed especially pleased to see him. She whimpered as she flattened her body against his leg. With a pang of regret, he realised that he would have to leave her for good someday soon.

Adela picked up Sparky and carried on with her research, only pausing to ask Phoenix's help on occasion. He watched her work as he so often had, and when she finally looked up at him with a fierce glare, he was taken aback. She had obviously been stewing the entire time.

"Why have you not been to visit me?" she scolded. "And I an old woman who doesn't know her lifespan."

"Adela, I—"

"And this creature has been pining—pining!—for you, but did you care?" She shook her head and filled up a test tube with a syringe full of blood. "No, why should the great Fae Prince care what affect he has on the rest of the world?"

"Adela," Phoenix said firmly. "I apologise for disappearing, but I needed time to myself. I saw the old woman, and I did a terrible thing."

Adela looked up at him in surprise. "You killed her?"

"What? No! I looked through her memories without her permission."

"Oh, is that all?" She shrugged. "I never liked her, you know. She was always superstitious and old-fashioned. I wouldn't pay any attention to her memories."

His lips twitched. "I wish I could feel the same. But her memories felt quite authentic. She was terrified of the monster, and I went back and looked at old newspaper reports. She wasn't the only one who was terrified. She wasn't the only one who suffered harm because of me."

"Pah," Adela said scornfully. "That was one person's point of view. She didn't see the real you. Not like I did. Here." She moved in front of him. "Do it."

"Excuse me?"

She huffed an impatient sound. "Look at my memories. See what really happened if you're so concerned with the past. But I warn you, it's futile to look back. Looking forward is what's really important."

His hands were already moving toward her head of their own accord. He hesitated, tempted, but fearful all the same.

With shaking fingers, she took his hands and pressed them to her head. "See through my eyes, Phoenix. See the harm and the good and make up your own mind."

He was terrified of seeing, but he couldn't resist the temptation. He sank his fingertips into her hair and caressed her scalp.

He closed his eyes and melded his thoughts with hers, something that came so easily to him. What he didn't expect was Adela's firm grasp of the situation. She was the one who led him and steered him away from what she didn't want him to see. It wasn't her first time.

She showed him memories that had nothing to do with him at first. Her town had been ruled by a corrupt family who had infiltrated every business with violence and pressure and threats. They had controlled everything.

There were a couple of glimpses of himself with Helena, sitting in the very same room as they asked Adela questions about her situation. He experienced Adela's fear for herself—and for the young couple.

He and Helena had fought to earn themselves Adela's help, but in the end, they had needed hers as Helena went into labour. And Adela had risked her life to aid them.

She showed him the birth, but her point of view was of his misery. She left the child's body with the old woman while Helena slept, and she followed Phoenix out of the building.

"Wait!" she called out to him. Even at a distance, Phoenix looked like a broken man. His shoulders had hunched, and that dark fury from before had all but vanished. He was devastated, and she knew he blamed himself for what had happened.

She caught up to him at the well in the centre of town. He leaned over it, staring into the abyss, his features twisted in misery.

"Phoenix," she whispered. "Helena needs you."

He looked at her imploringly. "This would never have happened to her if it wasn't for me. This is my family, my blood, who is acting to destroy her. Our daughter never stood a chance."

"I know," she told him, wishing she could take a little of his pain away. "And you'll never give those people a chance to do anything like this again."

"What if I can't stop them?" he whispered. "I thought we were safe, but I'm surrounded by traitors wherever I go. Helena would be safer if I left her and never returned."

"No, she'd be heartbroken," Adela scolded. "I may be old, but I'm not foolish. I know that you would be giving your mother exactly what she wants. Don't be me. Don't waste your years letting others boss you around."

He ran his hands through his hair and pulled tight. "If I could just predict her next move, then maybe—"

She laid a hand on his arm. She had grown fond of the young couple, wished them well on their journey. "Don't try to get into that woman's head. Don't taint yourself with her bad deeds. I believe in karma, that the world has a way of balancing itself. The best way to punish your mother is by living a long and happy life with Helena."

His eyes softened with hope, but a harsh yell in the distance sent him shoving Adela behind him.

"The family," she whispered fearfully. "The sons of Graiae have come for me."

"I've had enough of bullies," Phoenix said in a darker voice. "If they come for you, they must come through me. I'm done making deals with the enemy."

A half-dozen men came toward them. One or two humans were in the group, but most of them were a variety of supernaturals who claimed to have descended from a trio of goddesses collectively known as Graiae. There were many similar sects across Europe, but most were pretenders. The old goddesses were either dead or sleeping, and no amount of mobster killings was going to bring them back. Adela, like most people in her community, paid for protection with either money, secrets, or deals. Except Adela had broken the rules by helping Phoenix without permission. And now she would have to pay.

"Run," she whispered to Phoenix. "Take Helena and get out of here. It's the only way!"

"There's another way." He straightened and took something from his pocket. He flung what looked like a glass boomerang at the group. It decapitated one of the men with ease, then returned to Phoenix's hand. It had all occurred within seconds, and the rest of the men didn't appear to have realised what had happened yet. "Get back to Helena yourself," he instructed. "Stay out of my way."

"But, Phoenix."

"Leave," he growled, and then he left her, his grief transformed into something else.

She ran, but she stopped at the corner, half-hidden from the violence and yet unable to stop watching. Phoenix moved like nothing she had ever seen before. The men surrounded him, and yet he didn't hesitate. He struck out as though he were made for violence, and even in hand to hand combat while greatly outnumbered, he held his own.

He fought for himself and everyone else who had been trampled on. He fought for vengeance and freedom, and he looked like an avenging angel in the town square. Adela flinched and looked away as Phoenix slammed a man against the well, a bone audibly breaking as a result.

She caught sight of a woman shuffling toward her. "Helena?" she whispered.

"Help me," Phoenix's wife said determinedly. "I need to stop him before it's too late."

Adela ran to Helena and helped her walk. "It's dangerous," she warned. "You shouldn't be here."

"None of us should," Helena said, her eyes red-rimmed with her own grief. "The child is gone. Everyone was gone. I had to find him, and I knew... I just knew what would happen."

"He'll win this battle," Adela said reassuringly.

"But he'll lose himself in the process," Helena said as they reached the corner. "Hold me up, Adela. If I fall, I may not get up again."

Adela wrapped her arm around the younger woman's waist and braced herself. Helena held up her hands and muttered words Adela didn't understand. But she felt the power whirling around them in a tornado. That tornado grew visible and moved toward the fighting men.

Phoenix was in the midst of throttling his tallest opponent when the whirlwind hit all of the men but him. He looked around in confusion as he suddenly found himself free from battle.

But with the anger and rage gone, there was nothing left but grief. He caught sight of Helena, and he visibly broke. He sank down to his knees, distraught.

Helena went to him, limping but steady on her feet somehow. Adela was the shaky one. She watched as Helena held Phoenix's cheeks and murmured to him, calming him down. Tears rolled down their cheeks as they shared their grief, and Adela turned away, unable to face them any longer.

Adela was the one who broke free of his grasp. "Now," she said gently. "Let me tell you a story. What you did that day started a chain of events. You and Helena did most of the work, but when the people who lived in this town saw what had happened, they began to fight back, and within days, the entire community was free of the Sons of Graiae. They were gone, and they have never returned. The local reporter at the time was a young, disillusioned supporter of the group who hated the chaos that followed. But sometimes chaos is exactly what is needed. What happened to you was awful, truly dreadful, but you created something good out of that misery. You and Helena were a perfect match. You gave her strength, and she kept you human. You might see that as weakness, but I see it differently."

He was too mentally exhausted to do anything but nod and thank her. His inner self fought a constant battle to fill the blank space inside him. Hearing what had happened in Italy years before even the twins were born could have crushed him, but it was just another piece of the puzzle he was desperate to solve. And right or wrong, he now saw himself in a different light, too.

***

"Who protects you?" Phoenix asked Adela one evening.

Her back straightened, and she removed her glasses to rub her eyes. "Those things don't matter."

"I could end it. Free you. I would do that for you, Adela."

"Not this time. Some things you can't fight. Others, you shouldn't."

"You want this?"

She leaned back in her chair and held his gaze. "There are worse things. And if it gets bad here, I'll reach out to you, but for now, I'm safe. Nobody unwanted can get in, even those protecting the place."

"Nobody can resist this kind of knowledge," he warned.

"I'm prepared for the day when this arrangement changes. But for now, I don't wish to rock the boat. Sometimes, it's better to make a friend than an enemy."

"How much longer do you think you'll need to work with Sparky before you come up with something concrete?"

She put her glasses back on and snorted. "We're dealing with creatures from other dimensions. We'll never have anything concrete, but I can tell you my theories."

Phoenix smiled. "Go on, then."

"I believe Sparky is some kind of guardian tasked with tracking down demonic creatures, those who don't belong. Either she was purposely trapped with the other demons because whoever sent her there feared her too, she was used to bait the other demons into a trap, or she was sent with them by design as a failsafe in case the book was opened again."

"You think somebody knew this day would come?" Phoenix asked with interest. That explained a lot. "And Sparky's the key to... fixing it again?"

"Not the key, but certainly an instrument. Of course, she could have been accidentally trapped in the book. But she doesn't belong here. She can survive in our atmosphere, but I'm almost certain she was designed for quite another. I've read references to gatekeepers, creatures that guard the ways between worlds. Sparky could be an iteration of this, tasked with keeping our species separate from brand new predators who don't belong here."

"Who gets to decide who doesn't belong?"

"Weren't you listening?" she said pertly. "Sparky would."

He allowed himself a laugh. "I hope she makes good choices then. One of the people who found Sparky is part-hellhound. She described her reaction to the demon Sparky killed as knowing it didn't belong and needing to get rid of it. But it took Sparky a long time to get rid of this other demon. And, in fact, the other demon took its time in attacking a human."

"Well, hellhounds are the ultimate gatekeepers, so it's not surprising. What's interesting is that this could mean these demons don't have a place in Hell either."

"Then where do they have a place?"

"Somewhere... worse. You said neither demon made themselves noticeable when they were first released."

"Exactly." Phoenix thought about it. "There was another demon. Or rather, a shadow of a demon. It clung to a lingering spirit and attempted to call forth its true self. That happened during Halloween last year. The other cases happened since then. What have these demons been doing in the meantime?"

Adela slapped her hand against the surface of her desk. "Now this is interesting. The child who first found Sparky after the book of demons was opened... did she say what condition she found Sparky in?"

"Only that the creature had some kind of an injury."

"Yes, of course." Adela reached out and caressed Sparky's ears. "I think this means they were adapting. Sparky may have been injured before she was trapped in the book, but I'm certain she had to adjust to our world, make herself adaptable to survive. She could possibly have been trapped in some kind of limbo and needed time to readjust. And if she was doing that, then it makes sense the others were, too."

"So this is why there's a large gap in time?" Phoenix frowned. "And if other demons escaped the book?"

Colour drained from Adela's cheeks. "They're still adapting. This could be just the beginning, Phoenix."

Chapter Eleven

He felt rejuvenated as he walked back to the hotel. Even the fact he was being followed couldn't drag down the temporary high. It wasn't the first time he had been followed in Italy. Whoever was in charge of the town was keeping him on a relatively tight leash. But if Adela kept making headway, essentially building a case for Sparky, it wouldn't be long before he went home. He knew the rest of the Senate weren't happy he left so abruptly, particularly when they were all still dealing with the aftermath of a Senate member's indiscretions, but he would make up the time somehow.

The air was cool, despite his coat, and he upped his pace. The footsteps behind him hurried to keep up. He ducked down a lane and waited for his shadow to follow.

Breathing heavily, a middle-aged man dashed past. Phoenix reached out, grabbed his collar, and then pinned him against the wall. The man struggled then grew resigned. He said a few words in Italian that Phoenix couldn't make out.

He shoved the man. "English."

"Let go."

"I don't like being stalked."

"I don't stalk. I walk. I like walking. Can I go?"

Phoenix curled his fingers around the man's neck and squeezed. "Can you?"

"I haven't done anything wrong," the man protested, his eyes bulging.

"Then why are you sneaking after me in the dark?"

The man gestured to Phoenix's hands. "A little space, please?"

Phoenix loosened his hold. "Talk."

"We keep an eye on strangers. Make sure this town stays peaceful."

"On who's say?"

"Our own." The man bristled. "I don't take orders."

With an impatient sigh, Phoenix thumped the man in the gut. "Don't lie to me. It's unpleasant. Now let's try this again. Why are you following me?"

The man babbled in Italian.

"English!"

"Okay, okay. The Lady, she tells us to watch. It's important. See where he goes, who he talks to. Keep him safe, she says."

"I don't need protection."

"We all need protection. Times are changing."

"They always change." He let the man go and watched as he sprinted away. The Lady, indeed.

He made it back to the hotel unmolested, but his mood had worsened. He trudged up the stairs to his room, considering knocking on his children's doors before deciding he wasn't in good enough form. He unlocked his door and hesitated before switching on the lights. Someone was already in there.

He switched on the light. Rosa sat in a chair by the bed, a glass of wine in her hand as she rested her feet on his box of secrets. "Good evening," she said with a dark smile.

He bristled, and she gestured toward the box. "I can't get it open no matter what I do. I detest secrets. What's in the magic box, Phoenix?"

"You'll never know." He strode toward her.

She set down her glass and got up to meet him halfway. He gripped her leather jacket, but she struck away his grasp and spun, neatly avoiding tripping over the trunk. He reached for her a split second too late. Her high-heeled boot landed in his gut, knocking the breath out of him. He let her come at him then wrapped his arms around her, pinning her to him.

"Are you working for the Lady?" he asked.

She grinned. "Something like that." She pried herself loose and put space between them, panting, her eyes bright with excitement.

"Are you the Lady?"

She flicked out her tongue, looking pleased with herself. "Might be."

"Do you know what happened to the last people who tried to control this town?"

She raised a brow and dodged out of his next strike. "A wild devil came for them. But I'm a little bit more powerful than those fools."

They exchanged blows, but neither went for a fatal hit. That meant she was willing to talk. For now.

He tripped her up and pinned her to the floor. "What do you want with my family?"

"Answers to my questions." She relaxed. "And friends. I could always do with more friends."

He held his forearm against her neck. "You've been following me."

"A girl can look, can't she?"

"You've trapped Adela."

"No, Adela and I have a mutual agreement. We help each other."

"And what do you get, my secrets?"

She laughed. "You don't trust Adela? No, she won't tell me all of your secrets, but I know you're hiding a juicy one. One that likely has a paragon sniffing about a tiny, worthless country. Well," she licked her lips, "it does have a few bright spots."

"It was your plane, wasn't it? You helped Adela and followed us around in the hopes of what? Finding all of our secrets? Did you think Lorcan would tell you?"

She shrugged, looking comfortable. "I admit, I did hope. I needed to know if you had already made the wrong kinds of friends. Of course, I was intrigued by the infamous twins. Lorcan's sweet." With little effort, she rolled him over and straddled him. "But he is just a boy."

She gripped his hair then leaned over to kiss him, her tongue wet and forceful in his mouth. For a moment, he reacted, losing himself in the sensation, in the touch. The potent connection felt—

The door burst open. "Dad, Lucia had a—"

Phoenix broke away from Rosa's lips, but it was too late. The scene was already set. Lorcan stared at his father, disgust and disappointment written all over his face. Phoenix shoved Rosa aside, ignoring her protest, and jumped to his feet. "It's not what you think. It's not how it looks."

"Whatever you say," Lorcan said coldly.

Phoenix approached his son. "Lorcan, please, listen to me. She's a—"

"I don't even care. Actually, I do care about one thing." Lorcan's fist shot out and punched Phoenix in the nose.

Phoenix stepped back dizzily and pressed his hand to his bleeding nose. "Lorcan."

"Fuck you," Lorcan said. "That's for everyone you've screwed over, Phoenix."

He made to leave when Rosa piped up. "You came here for something, Lorcan."

His shoulders hunched at the sound of her voice. He stopped in the doorway and cleared his throat. "Lucia had a vision. The werewolves are in danger. You need to go home."

"What?" Phoenix pulled Lorcan back into the room. "What are you talking about? In danger from whom?"

"The Senate." Lorcan turned and snarled. "While you've been busy with demons and Italian women, something's gone wrong at home. That's all I know."

"Damn, what could be happening? Lorcan, I have to go back. I have to save them."

"I know." Lorcan made a face. "You always manage to do right by them, eh?"

"Come with me. Let's do it together."

"No," Lorcan said firmly. "I'm not going with you this time. I need some space."

"But Lucia—"

"Can come with me for a while. Goodbye, Phoenix."

"But—"

Lorcan strode out of the door and slammed it behind him, leaving Phoenix stricken.

"I'll make sure they stay safe," Rosa said.

"You've done enough." He turned to glare at her. "And they won't stay in your pathetic little town. You can't help them."

"Actually, I can." She took her glass and sat on the bed. "And I can help you, too."

He frowned, waiting for her to reach her point.

"Demons, eh?" She took a sip of her wine. "I have to admit, I am surprised. I didn't think Adela would let a demon live with her. What does it look like?"

"That's none of your concern," Phoenix growled. "And if you mention it to anyone—"

Her high-pitched laughter filled the room. "You'll what? We can be friends, Phoenix. I help you with your problems, and you help me with mine."

"I have to get back to Ireland."

"And I'll get you there," she said softly. "I don't know exactly what's going on in Ireland, but I know Regis must be behind it."

A sinking feeling hit Phoenix. "You know Regis."

"Of course I do. He's my rival actually. If I were you, I'd take a seat." She patted the bed beside her, but he chose the chair instead. "Your loss. I'll organise the private plane for you in the morning if we come to an agreement. And I'll even keep your secrets for a while longer."

"What do you want? Who are you really?"

"Haven't you guessed? I'm a paragon, too."

He squeezed his eyes shut and inwardly swore. Why did he have to find trouble everywhere he went?

"Listen to me. Only a paragon can deal with a paragon. I'm not sure what Regis is planning, but if you know anything about our history, you'll know that the paragons are the ones with the greatest armies. And we're constantly fighting to stay on top. Currently, Regis and I are the last ones in, and therefore, we're the bottom feeders. The one of us with the greatest army will knock the other out of place. If I know Regis, he's either trying to get rid of the werewolves to stay on top, or he's trying to steal them."

"He's working on something personal?" Phoenix asked, interested in spite of himself.

"This isn't official business or I'd already know about it." She winced. "Unless it's already too late for me, in which case I'll need protection anyway." Her gaze turned hard. "Here is what I want and what I can give you. I can keep Adela safe, your twins safe on their journey, and I can keep quiet about your demon friend. I can even explain to Lorcan that this situation he walked in on was of my own making, not yours. And I can deal with Regis, in my own way."

"And what do you want in return?"

"I want an army," she said quietly. "I want the werewolves to be ready to fight for me if I call them to war. And if this demon turns out to be useful, I want to make use of it. Think carefully on your answer, Phoenix. This building is surrounded by loyal people willing to lose their lives to keep you here. And you need to leave if you want to save the werewolves."

"Why are you doing this?"

She snorted. "Because I don't want to die. Paragon work is risky business. If I don't stay on top, I'll sink. Your werewolves can help me stay on top." She cocked her head to the side. "What do you say, Phoenix? You get protection and a friend. I get an army. And we both get to work together to get rid of Regis. Dark days are coming. You need to be on the right side." Her lips pressed tight together. "If he finds out about Adela and a demon, he'll destroy both of you. You can't fight a paragon without risking a war." She smiled. "But I can, with your help."

His stomach turned. There was always someone around with a larger agenda, and in this case, he didn't have many options. The only thing he could do was buy himself some time.

Rosa held out her hand. "Well?"

He took her hand and shook it, wondering which one of them was making a deal with a devil.

Thanks for reading Crucible. If you're concerned about the order of any of my books, then visit this page on my website.

For more information, check out Claire Farrell's blog or email the author.  Sign up to the newsletter to be notified of new releases and receive occasional coupon codes for free copies, or like the Facebook page for more regular updates.

Turn the page for more books by the author.

Books by Claire Farrell:

Chaos Series:

One Night with the Fae (Free Companion Prequel)

Soul (Chaos #1) – Free

Fade (Chaos #2)

Queen (Chaos #3)

Usurper (Chaos #4)

Blight (Chaos #5)

Ava Delaney Series (Completed):

Thirst (Ava Delaney #1) – Free

Taunt (Ava Delaney #2)

Tempt (Ava Delaney #3)

Taken (Ava Delaney #4)

Taste (Ava Delaney #5)

Traitor (Ava Delaney #6)

Awakening (Ava Delaney Volume I – Books 1-3)

Uprising (Ava Delaney Volume II – Books 4-6)

Lost Souls Series:

Tainted (Ava Delaney: Lost Souls #1)

Tethers (Ava Delaney: Lost Souls #2)

VBI Series:

Demon Dog (VBI #1)

Novellas set in Ava Delaney's World:

Zombie Moon Rising (A Peter Brannigan Novella)

Ghost Moon Rising (A Peter Brannigan Novella)

Crucible (A Phoenix Novella)

Cursed Series (Completed):

Verity (Cursed #1) – Free

Clarity (Cursed #2)

Adversity (Cursed #2.5 – Free

Purity (Cursed #3)

Cursed Omnibus (Entire Cursed Series)

Stake You Series (Completed):

Stake You (Stake You #1) – Free

Make You (Stake You #2)

Break You (Stake You #3)

Short Story Collections:

Sixty Seconds

A Little Girl in my Room

Other:

Death is a Gift (A standalone banshee novel)

Upcoming Releases:

Sacrifice (Chaos #6)

Tithes (Ava Delaney: Lost Souls #3)

