Phoenix (16 page)

Deep in thought, Dean led the way into the barn, where Iceman sat quietly on the steps leading to the hayloft. He was resting, recharging his powers, waiting for the overlord’s decision.

‘Go sit, Darina,’ Dean told me, and I went to the steps and sat down next to Iceman. Somehow, his quiet presence and the big dark space soothed me, like being next to a priest in an empty church.

Dean stood with Phoenix near the door. ‘My decision is that we go on,’ he told him calmly. ‘But Darina stays here with us.’

I took a breath, deep and slow.
We go on!

Phoenix gazed at me across the floor of the barn.
I love
you, Darina. I will not let you die.

‘I know this looks like chaos,’ Dean went on. ‘But we need to establish some logic, some pattern. What happened before the fight at the gas station? What key facts are we missing here?’

I admired Dean’s cop brain, at work on motives, moving towards opening a new line of inquiry. ‘Like, why did Nathan hit Brandon?’ I asked eagerly. ‘What reason did he have?’

Dean nodded and turned to Phoenix. ‘Was there something in the background – a key detail that we overlooked?’

‘Nothing that I know.’ Phoenix sounded defeated. ‘My brother doesn’t talk about stuff like that.’

‘But he’s part of the culture,’ Dean pointed out. ‘He hangs with guys who know the Thornes, he listens and picks up information.’

‘Brandon isn’t into drugs.’ Phoenix came back with more force to defend his brother.

‘That’s what I figured. I’m not saying he was part of the deal. But focus on exactly that fact – Brandon isn’t part of the Thornes’ organization but he knows their lifestyle. Plus, he’s a guy who can take care of himself – you don’t push Brandon Rohr around.’

‘You’re certain Brandon never shared any information
with you about Oscar and Nathan Thorne?’ I checked with Phoenix. ‘Or about any of that gang – Black or Hall? Or what about the younger kids, Stafford and Miller?’

‘We didn’t talk,’ he insisted. ‘That’s the way it was.’

‘So – Oscar Thorne has his Ellerton territory.’ Dean moved us on. ‘Believe me, I know – this is a specific area, with established boundaries. Deals are done. Drugs mules link the international runners with the local chief. A lot of guys know how it works and who works it, but no one says they know or does anything to challenge the system.’

‘But maybe Brandon did,’ I suggested. ‘What if he saw his kid brother hanging out with Stafford and Miller and knew that Zak was getting pulled into some nasty stuff – wouldn’t he act on that?’

‘Most guys would,’ Iceman agreed, and we all looked at Phoenix for his reaction.

He stood silent for a while, his face pale and thoughtful while the bond of family loyalty took hold. ‘You’re guessing,’ he said. ‘You can never be sure.’

‘Which is why we get to travel back in time,’ Dean decided, standing between two narrow shafts of light in the gloomy barn. ‘We take a look at a couple of things and establish a motive. We move on from there.’

I have wings and I’m spinning through a black tunnel. I don’t
know which way is forward and which way is back. Gravity
doesn’t exist, only a pinprick of light which we move towards,
which I glimpse then lose. A terrible force is dragging, twisting,
propelling me on.

Phoenix and Dean are with me, their white wings folded,
helplessly turning, tumbling, whirling through space.

The speck of light grows to a disc. We fall and spin in pain
towards it, the force tears at our limbs, our clothes and hair.
We spiral on, the light expands, brilliant and blinding. I close
my eyes and open my wings. The agony ends. We are there.

Angel-me stands invisible beside Dean and Phoenix in a
huge, cold, empty warehouse with sleet rattling down on the
metal roof. There are no windows, no electric light, and for a
while we see nothing.

We hear the muffled sound of a car engine pull up outside
the building and cut out. A door opens and daylight floods in.

We’re surrounded by hundreds of large, square objects
covered in see-through plastic wrapping, taped up ready for
transportation. Beneath the wrapping I make out tables and
chairs, beds and sofas. The big sticky labels on the outside read:
The Wonderful World of Wood.

Oscar Thorne and Vince Hall lead the way between the
unwieldy humps of packaged furniture that looks like
lumbering prehistoric creatures towards a small glass office in
the corner. Nathan Thorne follows close behind, calling to
Jacob Miller and Zak Rohr to keep up.

‘There’s no one here,’ he assures them. ‘The business went
bust two weeks before Christmas.’

Jacob looks scared but excited, Zak just plain scared.

I glance sideways at Phoenix, see him take a step towards
Zak before Dean reaches out a hand to stop him.

‘There’s not a thing you can do to change things,’
Dean says.

‘Zak shouldn’t be here,’ Phoenix mutters. ‘He knows not to
hang out with these people.’

Dean frowns, communicates a telepathic warning and
makes Phoenix focus on the action.

‘I said, it’s OK!’ Nathan insists. He comes so close to us we
could reach out and touch him, waiting right there for the
others to catch up. ‘What’s with you guys?’ he mutters. ‘You
know you don’t make my brother wait.’

Angel-me spreads my wings and rises into the air with
Dean and Phoenix, who’s staring down at Zak, trying to read
his state of mind. We go ahead to the glass office, where we see
Oscar and Vince placing dozens of small packages in rows on
the desk. Vince begins to count and rearrange the packages, while
Oscar looks out impatiently through the glass partition.
Nathan and Jacob hurry towards the office, Zak hangs back.

Then we hear another engine approaching. This time it
sounds like a motorbike. The screech of tyres tells us that it has
pulled up in a hurry.

Oscar hears it, leans over the desk and with his forearm
sweeps the packages into a leather sports bag. Vince leaps
up, breaks out of the office and begins to sprint down the aisle
of furniture towards the door. Nathan, Jacob and Zak stay
rooted to the spot.

I hover over the action with the Beautiful Dead.

Before Vince reaches the exit, Brandon appears, silhouetted
against the light. Behind him is a curtain of sleet which slants
towards the ground and a million tiny white balls rebound.

Invisible Phoenix lets out a groan as his older brother shows
up. He’s desperate to step in again, is hurting big time because
he knows he can’t.

Vince sees Brandon and hesitates. Back in the office, Oscar
closes the zipper on the bag and comes out with it tight under
his arm. Brandon strides towards Vince, who comes at him but
Brandon lands the first punch, which sends him crashing into
the furniture. Without saying a word, Brandon walks on, takes
hold of Zak’s arm, turns him towards the door and starts to
march him out of the building.

Twenty paces away, Nathan sets off after Brandon and Zak.
He takes a shortcut, vaulting over tables, shoving chairs aside
and overtaking the Rohrs before they have a chance to reach
the door. Pulling a knife from his pocket and setting himself
across their path, he stands with his feet wide apart, eyes
staring wildly.

Brandon says nothing, only looks irritated at the
interruption. He glances over his shoulder at Oscar, who is
pulling Vince Hall free of the furniture, then at Miller, suddenly
looking like he wishes he wasn’t there.
‘Ttt.’
Brandon makes a
clicking noise with his tongue then gestures for Zak to step to
one side. He stares at the knife in Nathan’s hand and sighs.

‘You lay a finger on him and you’re dead!’ Oscar
warns Brandon.

The threat brings a frown to Brandon’s face. Again
he’s irritated.

Oscar’s voice rises an octave. ‘No shit – you’re dead!’

‘Ttt.’
Brandon lashes out at Nathan, sends the knife
clattering to the ground and Nathan staggering back through
the doorway where he skids on the sleet-covered ground, loses
his balance and lands hard.

‘Walk!’ Brandon orders Zak, shoving him through the door.

Zak also staggers, almost tripping over Nathan, who
squirms on the ground.

Brandon picks up the weapon. As he strides past Nathan,
he treads hard on the hand that grasped the knife. Then
Brandon and Zak walk out of sight.

‘I swear
–
he’s a dead man,’ Oscar mutters, hearing Nathan
yell out and setting off after Brandon.

Hall hooks an arm around Oscar’s waist to hold him back.
‘Not now,’ he tells him, tapping the bag containing the drugs to
remind him of important business. ‘Later.’

Oscar tries to break free. ‘I’ll get the kid too,’ he promises
his little brother, who has crawled on all-fours back into
the warehouse.

‘Later!’ Hall insists.

Outside in the white-out world we hear a motorbike roar
into life. Hovering in the dark roof space of The Wonderful
World of Wood I watch the scene play out then look at
Phoenix’s troubled face.

‘How do you feel?’ I ask him, trying hard to imagine how I
would react right now in his shoes.

He doesn’t answer, just hold up his hand to ask me not to
speak and let the scene play out.

‘Leave it to me
– I’ll
get Zak!’ Nathan argues it out with
Oscar, keeping his injured hand pressed to his chest. His baby
face is flushed with shame. ‘No one walks away from this – not
Zak Rohr, not Brandon, nobody!’

The journey back to the present hurts just as much as travelling
into the past. Every muscle is twisted, every joint feels like it’s
being wrenched apart. You enter the vortex and it spins you so
fast, so hard that your brain rattles inside your skull. Your
angel wings contract, shrivel and vanish into two red-hot
arrows of pain lodged in your shoulder blades.

Without that point of light in the far distance, you would
give up the act of breathing, let go of your hold on life.

But I did it
–
I travelled beside Phoenix and Dean and held
on. The light opened up at last into a gentle halo surrounding
us, lowering us gently to earth.

‘So now we know,’ Dean told Iceman, who stood waiting for us in the barn entrance. ‘There was a full-on feud between the Thornes and the Rohrs. Those guys were at war.’

I ought to have been glad to have the evidence, but the main feeling was fear.

‘How are you doing now?’ I asked Phoenix.

He stood exhausted in the shadow of the barn, his supernatural energies drained and at an all-time low. His breathing was shallow, his beautiful, clear eyes dull. ‘I’m doing good,’ he lied.

Iceman came across, slung Phoenix’s arm around his shoulder and helped him into the barn, where he sat him on the steps. Dean and I followed. I crouched beside Phoenix and stroked his hand. ‘You need to rest,’ I whispered, trying to ease the ache that lingered beneath my shoulder blades.

‘And think,’ Dean urged. His face had the steadfast,
solemn, stony look. I guess it was the responsibility of becoming overlord – the weight of steering the Beautiful Dead’s eternal future. ‘Try to remember – did this incident at the warehouse ever come up between you and your brothers? Is it something you were aware of?’

Phoenix let his head hang low. ‘I don’t remember exactly.’

There was a pause then Dean said, ‘I need the truth.’

As always, Phoenix recognized that he couldn’t deceive his overlord. ‘Maybe Brandon … one time, he might have mentioned it.’

‘Good. And did he ask you to watch out for Zak?’

‘Again, it’s not clear. But yeah, I guess.’

This was so not like Phoenix that I asked Dean to hold back. ‘He’s exhausted. He can’t take any more questions.’

Nodding abruptly, Dean eased me back for a consultation. ‘This sure looks like a motive,’ he said. ‘Nathan is the kind of kid to keep hold of a grudge and let it fester.’

‘Until it drives him crazy,’ I agreed.

‘Pretty soon he would be out there looking for payback. And in his devious brain, harming Phoenix and making the whole Rohr family suffer for ever would be the ideal way to do it.’

‘It worked,’ I said flatly, thinking of the twelve
months of hell Nathan had put Sharon, Michael, Brandon and Zak through.

‘So that’s it – we think we have the answer.’ Iceman was at the door, looking up at the mountains and watching the sun sink until only a rim of molten gold lay on the black horizon. ‘Nathan Thorne sees the scene at the gas station as a trigger for revenge. He jumps at the chance of striking back at Brandon, and if that’s not enough, he pulls a knife and stabs his brother.’

Out of the months of chaos and doubt came a simple, solid solution. It matched my gut feeling – Nathan Thorne was guilty. He killed Phoenix for revenge.

But Iceman, always in the background, always reliable, turned back towards us. ‘It doesn’t feel like the end,’ he told the overlord. ‘I still think there’s more.’

Chapter 12

M
aybe it’s because Dean had been a cop that he listened to Iceman. It was the investigator in him, the professional who checks and double-checks his facts.

‘No jury would convict Nathan on the evidence we have,’ he agreed. We’d moved Phoenix from the barn to the house, put logs on the fire and lit the oil lamps. I was watching his every move, following every breath he took. ‘A strong motive and a history of violence between the Rohrs and the Thornes doesn’t automatically mean a guilty verdict.’

‘But you heard the threat. Nathan said no one walks away! That means he was planning to kill them.’ I was against Iceman. I needed what we’d seen to be enough.

‘But he didn’t say Phoenix’s name,’ Dean reminded me. ‘Only Brandon and Zak. We didn’t get exactly what we needed.’

‘So we go back again,’ I urged. ‘Tonight, right now!’

Dean took a while before he made his next move, pacing the room, making the floorboards creak. He stopped on the blood-stained spot where Hunter had fallen long ago. ‘Another trip – will you make it?’ he asked Phoenix.

Phoenix half closed his eyes and took a sharp breath, as if he was in pain. His face was drawn. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

I sat beside him, focused all my energy on him. ‘Yes, you will,’ I told him softly. ‘So long as you carry on believing.’

My words touched a nerve. He opened his eyes and smiled sadly. ‘So now
you
talk to
me
about belief!’

‘I know. But it’s true – belief is what it takes to get us through. You can make another trip. I know we can find the truth.’

Phoenix closed his eyes again and I wasn’t sure that he’d taken in what I said. But when he opened them he looked up at Dean. ‘I’m ready,’ he said.

This is it – my last journey through time, the extraordinary
trip that begins with beating wings as we stand in the yard
under a starlit sky. The stars seem to drift then fall towards the
ground, the ground dissolves and I feel a tingling sensation at
my shoulder blades. The starry mist, the beating wings
surround me as I stand with Dean and Phoenix. I join
the world of the Beautiful Dead and spread my magical
white wings.

I am surrounded by starlight. I beat my angel wings in a
universe of lost souls – all those wings, souls without a voice,
and me hand in hand with my beloved Phoenix.

The glow of the stars fades. We fly with the lost souls and
enter a dark, spinning space, the eye of an unnatural hurricane,
more powerful, more deathly than any earthly storm. I see a
million death heads. Skulls crowd in on me, grinning, sightless,
flashing by. So many skulls in the vastness of the dark universe
and every one attached to a soul in torment. They long for me
to let go of Phoenix’s hand, for him to be sucked into the dark
vortex, to spin away into infinity.

‘Hold on,’ Phoenix whispers. ‘Look ahead at the light.’

I see the pinprick of light. Dean leads the way, his wings
spread wide. We follow, battered and torn.

It’s a light like no other, out of thick blackness, growing
stronger, pulling us on. The light opens up, defeats the darkness
and our wings thrust us spinning towards it. It surrounds us
with an incandescent glow.

We’re back in time twelve months to the Friday night when
Phoenix died, standing in the gas station forecourt. At the
roadside a red-and-green neon sign on top of a tall pole
advertises gas for sale. In the small, glass office Kyra sits
behind her cashier’s desk handing out receipts. A steady stream
of customers fills their tanks without seeing us.

Dean leads Phoenix and angel-me between a line of cars to
the awning over the entrance to the office where we have a
clear view of the vehicles approaching the gas station in both
directions. We stand beside a rack of newspapers and wait.

Three more cars swing into the forecourt and join the lines
for gas. Jacob Miller arrives on a bicycle, dumps his bike by the
door and goes inside to buy candy and Coke. Then a guy
shows up on a Harley Softtail, cruising round the edge of the
forecourt, followed by a second rider on a Dyna. They get off
their bikes. The second guy waits in line for gas while the other
looks up and down the street. Beside me, Beautiful Dead
Phoenix grows more alert.

Soon more Harleys arrive. I count three, four, five. The
riders join the Softtail guy and they begin to laugh and joke. Someone
picks up a magazine and goes into the office to pay.

With wings outspread, Phoenix stands between me
and Dean, silently watching the minutes leading up to his
own death.

A car crests the hill. Its headlights swoop towards us, past
the white church and the psychiatric hospital into the gas
station. Under the red light we recognize Nathan Thorne
in his black Chevy. He joins the line nearest us, music
blasting from his sound system.

Seconds later, Phoenix pulls up behind the first Dyna
rider.

Beautiful Dead Phoenix sees his old living, breathing self
sitting at the wheel of his truck with Zak beside him.

For a second I tell myself
: Act now. Go to Phoenix, stop him getting out of his truck. Change everything!

I believe in that moment that anything is possible, that I
can cheat destiny after all. This is my chance to save Phoenix.
I feel my heart jolt, I know I have to grab the opportunity
with both hands.

I can change this!
I silently tell my Beautiful Dead
boyfriend.
There’ll be no fight, no stabbing. You and I can go on living together …
In that moment, I believe this with
all my heart. So I step out with my angel’s wings from under
the awning, raise my hand and put it on living Phoenix’s arm.
His skin is warm. I say, ‘Leave now, before it’s too late.’

Living Phoenix walks right through me without seeing me.
He goes up to the guy ahead of him in the line and says, ‘I need
gas in a hurry. Is it OK for me to go ahead?’

The guy tells him no, wait in line like everyone else.

I still want to believe I have the power to change history. My
heart hammers, my mouth is dry.

‘
Turn around, walk away. If you don’t want to die you have
to leave
,’
angel-me pleads.

Phoenix jumps back in his truck, reverses then pulls up
behind Nathan Thorne.

‘Get out of here!’ I cry, leaning against Phoenix’s door to
stop him getting out.

Dean steps out from under the awning, pulls me back. He
shakes his head. ‘Phoenix can’t see you,’ he tells me. ‘He can’t
hear you. You don’t exist.’

I close my eyes, swallow hard, feel the frantic energy drain
away as Dean pulls me back. It was a moment when I could
have healed all wounds, mopped up all the tears, but it’s gone.

Customers queue in the office, more bikes arrive. Oscar
Thorne’s Mercedes sweeps into the forecourt followed by Vince
Hall and Robert Black. From the opposite direction, Brandon
arrives on his Dyna. Ignoring Thorne and the others, he goes
straight into the office to talk with Kyra.

‘Man, I’m in a hurry,’ Phoenix tells Nathan as music
blares.

Jacob has bought his candy. He’s left his bicycle in a bad
place. A biker customer goes inside to pay, comes out,
trips over the bike. He picks it up and throws it against the
newspaper stand. There is a clash of metal, Jacob comes out
yelling and cursing. The customer puts his hand in his face and
pushes him over.

‘Yeah, and I’m in line ahead of you,’ Nathan sneers at
Phoenix as the fight begins. ‘I’m taking my time, see?’ And he
leans into his car, into the clash of drums and whine of guitars,
making a big deal of looking for something. A small plastic
envelope falls from the glove shelf onto the ground by Phoenix’s
feet. Phoenix stoops and picks it up.

Now Zak gets out of the truck to snatch the envelope. He
says something to Phoenix which we don’t hear above the music
track and the noise of the fight developing by the news stand.

Jacob has half a dozen buddies on mountain bikes who
appear out of nowhere, from side streets and from the main
drag. They include Taylor Stafford, who skids to a halt and
starts to kick someone’s Dyna, knocking it over and stamping
on the mirrors and wheels. Another kid picks up a garbage can
and swings it at another’s head. The kid is grabbed from behind.
By now there is a smell of spilled gas and ordinary customers
are backing off the forecourt and driving away. Inside the office,
Kyra waves Brandon aside and picks up the phone.

Nathan stops searching in his car and stands up straight.
‘Give me back that packet,’ he demands. ‘Hey, Oscar – Zak
took the envelope!’

Phoenix steps across Nathan’s path. The fight outside the
office is out of control and now he loses it with Nathan. ‘Forget
the envelope – move your car!’ he demands, fists clenched.

Nathan tilts his head back and grins. ‘Make me,’ he says.

Zak moves in and quickly hands the packet to Nathan, who
doesn’t thank him but laughs in his face. Brandon strides out of
the office towards them, through the brawling kids, past Oscar,
Hall and Black. He punches Nathan then grabs hold of Zak’s
collar and marches him onto the street, sends him sprinting off
towards town. When he comes back onto the forecourt, Phoenix
has been surrounded by the younger kids, who are being forced
back towards the road. Jacob and Taylor smash windscreens
and slash tyres as they retreat.

A woman passenger stranded inside a white car begins to
scream. Brandon has stopped to calm her, leaning an arm
against the roof of her car, when Nathan opens his trunk and
pulls out an iron bar. Blood runs from his nose as he charges at
Brandon, wielding the bar over his head.

Glass shatters, tyres hiss, the woman continues screaming.

Invisible, helpless, we watch as Oscar, Hall and Black draw
knives from their belts.

Nathan uses the metal bar to strike Brandon on the back of
his head. Brandon staggers away from the white car into the
path of Oscar Thorne. Phoenix breaks free of Jacob, Stafford
and the brawling kids and runs to catch Brandon as he falls.

Nathan comes at them again with the metal bar, this time
with Oscar at his side. A passing kid rides his bike at Oscar’s
legs, sends him off balance, crashing into a gas pump and
losing hold of his knife. Phoenix picks up the blade from the
oil-stained ground. Nathan’s bar misses Brandon and strikes
the hood of the white car. Brandon stumbles clear.

There is a pause, a moment of thinking that it’s all over, but
it’s only so that everyone can regroup.

Still with Oscar’s knife in his hand, Phoenix faces Nathan,
who is now flanked by Hall and Black. Nathan’s nose is still
bleeding, his face streaked scarlet.

The demented bike kids are wrecking cars and Harleys.
Taylor sets fire to a narrow trail of leaking gas, raising a tongue
of flame across the forecourt that flares, lights the whole scene
then fizzles out in a dark stain.

Now Black throws a spare knife to Oscar, who catches it.
That makes four armed guys versus Phoenix. Seeing this,
Brandon bends sideways, slips a hand down his boot and pulls
out a short, pointed knife. Then he goes to stand by his
brother.

Angel-me tears my attention from the unfolding scene
and glances at Beautiful Dead Phoenix. The pain in his eyes
is terrible – the helplessness, the not wanting to know what
comes next.

Blades flash red in the neon light. Black and Hall jab at
Phoenix and Brandon, who is still unsteady from Nathan’s first
blow. Drums clash, guitars whine from Nathan’s Chevy.

Oscar lunges at Brandon with his knife. Brandon sways
and side-steps into Phoenix, who falls against a gas pump then
spins quickly to face Nathan.

Blades glint again, bodies stagger and blunder. As
Brandon advances shakily on Oscar, Hall thrusts Phoenix
across his path.