Phoenix Academy: Freed (Phoenix Academy First Years Book 5) Read online

  This is a place where prayers, hopes, and dreams alike go to wither away on the vine.

  The summoning circle takes less time to draw than I remember. At this point, I guess it's become almost like muscle memory to me. Stepping back, I look over at the guys. They've arranged themselves across the bench, save for Ezra, who's standing stiff-backed next to the podium.

  I meet his hard and wary green gaze. "It's not a trick, you know," I tell him, because some part of me desperately wants him to believe what I'm saying, all on his own. "I really am telling you the truth. I'd die for you. I'm in Hell for you. This is really about your freedom and nothing else."

  He considers me for a moment. "You know, I think I believe you."

  "So you trust me?"

  "That's the thing," he says slowly, his expression drifting far away, "I may believe you, but it's not reassuring. The only thing more dangerous than a Grim is a young woman in love."

  I blink at him in disbelief. Behind him, Mateo snorts and boos. "You sound almost as maudlin as Sebastian, and it stinks. Summon the demon, little phoenix. Maybe he'll decide to cut Ezra's heart out and eat it while he watches."

  I laugh a little. "That reminds me, though—stay out of the summoning circle. Malavic has to tell the truth, and he wants to be here, but well... he's known for his craftiness for a reason."

  "We're not fools," Sebastian mutters. "Well, except for Mateo."

  Rolling my eyes, I move back a few feet from the edge of the circle, then say the incantation. Moments later he appears, in the flesh and looking very pleased: the ancient demon Malavic.

  Smirking at me, he murmurs, "Miss me?"

  "Not on your life."

  Chapter 17

  "Well, well, what have we here? The Room of Recognition... been such a long time since I've seen this place." Malavic surveys the garden all around us, a smirk on his face, then turns back to me. "Open up my summoning circle, little phoenix. I want to let the Hellfire loose and burn this place down for good."

  "Wait just a minute," I tell him, already nervous at the thought of releasing him from the circle. "There's something we need to ask you."

  "Oh?" Raising a brow, he looks over my shoulder and snorts. "Ezra, old pal. You're looking at me like you're imagining what it would feel like to cut my head off with that sword of yours."

  Ezra pushes off from the pedestal and approaches the summoning circle, a troubled frown on his face. "I would like to see what's inside you that makes you such an asshole," he says, "but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." I feel his eyes flick to me, briefly. "Were we really... willingly bonded with this Grim?"

  He says the words the way you'd say eating human feces or tap dancing naked on the roof of the Hilton Hotel. I stiffen, trying not to take offense, reminding myself that the Ezra standing next to me isn't the one who fell in love with me—or the one I fell in love with. He'll change back to normal soon enough. If we get through this next part that, is.

  "Well, well." Chuckling darkly, Malavic looks back and forth between me and my guys, and I try to ignore the fact that he's probably seeing all my pain and heartbreak. "You really did it. You really died in order to get down here and free yourselves. And now you don't remember anything. How interesting."

  "Just answer the question."

  An eye roll from the ancient demon. "Yes, I've seen you with this woman before. You never seemed to be terribly upset about it." He leers at me. "Then again, I wouldn't be either if I got to fuck her tight little body from time to time."

  The urge to kill him rises, and I nearly take a step into the summoning circle before reminding myself that he has all the power in there. Instead I just grit my teeth and glare him down, trying to ignore the flare of heat in my cheeks—or the fact that I can feel Ezra looking at me. I don't want to glance over and see what expression is on his face right now.

  I'm afraid that it might break my heart into so many pieces that I'll never rise up as a phoenix from the ashes again.

  Lynx gets up and approaches the circle, a curious expression on his face. "We actually wanted to ask you something else—is facing yourself in Hell really the way that you broke your contract? Will it really work for us?"

  "Yes," Malavic says simply, wiping the leering expression off his face. "I died, but when I got down here, there was something... calling to me. Or someone, I should say. A ghost from the past. I journeyed into the deep corners of Hell to find the source of the voice, and instead I found myself. My true self. The one who committed the sins that got me stuck in that contract in the first place. Instead of running from who I was, I faced what I'd done. And it worked."

  "It does make a certain sort of sense," Lynx muses. "Our contracts are in place because of the sins we committed as mortals. We're meant to serve until those sins are wiped clean. If we faced them down and repented for them, maybe it's essentially the same thing."

  The ancient demon's eyes glow gold, and he warns Lynx, "Don't underestimate what it'll take from you. Facing my self was one of the hardest things I've ever done—and I orchestrated the Black Plague." He grins roguishly. "I don't know who you were as a mortal, but I know this: we don't become demons because we jaywalked or rolled through a stop sign. Whatever you did, whoever you were, you won't like that person."

  Lynx shakes his head. "I'm sure I can face what I've done. How bad can it be?"

  Malavic chuckles. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

  "Consider us warned," Ezra says, then paces back to the pedestal and the bench to join the other guys.

  "We should probably talk this out," Lynx says, and my heart squeezes painfully at the realization that I'm not part of his 'we' anymore. "If we have anymore questions, we'll let you know."

  "Mmmmm." Malavic's eyes go to me, and he grins. "So, little phoenix. It seems we meet again."

  "This was our deal," I remind him. "Why you wanted to return to Hell like this, I have no idea, but you're here now."

  "Yes. Thank you for keeping your end of the bargain." Glancing over at my guys, who are deep in discussion with each other, Malavic leans towards me and murmurs, "I could go with you, you know. As your ally. Now that you find your own quartet to be so very... cold."

  "I'll be fine," I tell him, irritated. "I don't need you."

  "Are you sure about that?" He raises a brow. "They don't seem particularly enamored with you."

  "We have an alliance now. They want to be free, and they're bound to me still, whether—whether they want to be or not."

  "Denial. Such a sweet sound."

  "Shut up," I spit back at him. "You don't know anything."

  Malavic chuckles. "I know that if you expect those four to watch your back in their current state, you're far more than an optimist. You're a fool. And fools don't last long in this place called Hell."

  I'm tired of listening to him speak my worst fears aloud, so I turn away and walk in the opposite direction of the guys, further into the still garden all around us. It seems strange to have such a place in Hell, but it makes sense. Convincing humans to sign a contract that enslaves them for an unknown period of time must be easier if they're surrounded by calming sights—with a little reminder of the worst parts of Hell that await them, in the form of the Hellfire glowing above our heads.

  Staring at the roses, I find myself wondering if Malavic is right. Maybe I'm a fool to think that this will work. I was a fool in the first place to search so blindly for a way to free my guys. Love may have bound us once, but without it, we're just a Grim-born phoenix and four wary men with blood on their hands. I can order them not to wound me, but I can't make them trust me, or want me around.

  A voice clears its throat behind me. Turning, I stare up in surprise at Sebastian's blue eyes.

  "We're going to do this," he says, his voice even and clear. "The five of us. Together. Maybe when we get our memories back, we'll understand better how in the world we wound up bound to a Black Phoenix in the first place."

  "Thank you. I guess."

 
; Studying me intensely, he adds, "It might help if you asked Malavic to tell you how to get through the next part of Hell. We've navigated about as far as we know. The inner circles aren't exactly welcoming to upper level things. If you thought what we faced out there was bad, the things that live further in are horrifying—and there are human souls there too, being tortured for eternity."

  I grimace. "Great."

  "If we know another path, we might be able to go around," he says. "But if we go straight through..."

  "I'll ask Malavic." As I start to head towards the summoning circle, though, Sebastian's fingers grip my arm, and I stop to look back curiously at him. "What is it?"

  "This place..." He stares at me. "Do you know how you're going to get out of here?"

  Licking my lips, I tell him, "When the moment is right, I'm meant to send a signal back to the mortal realm. At which point, the mage standing watch over my body will release me from the spell keeping me in this half-dead state, and I'll wake up... hopefully."

  "That's a lot to risk." Sebastian runs his fingers through his hair, looking a little confused. "If you wind up stuck down here, you won't be able to escape. Even if you deserve to rest in the Great Beyond, there's no way out once we pass this room and go further in. You could wind up trapped in Hell for eternity."

  "I know."

  "But you risked it anyway." His dark brows knit together. "Why?"

  Staring up at him, I wonder how it is that he hasn't figured this part out already. "Because I love you enough to face eternal damnation."

  Meeting his gaze, I try to make him believe it. Based on the way his blue eyes widen just a little, I think he actually might. Licking his lips, he opens his mouth—but before he can say anything, another voice interrupts him.

  "Time to get out of here," Ezra says. "We're about to have company."

  My eyes dart to the door we fought our way through. The handles are jiggling—someone is on the other side, pounding relentlessly on the wood. Mateo stuck one of the guard's swords through the door handles, but it won't hold forever. Especially not with demons on the other side.

  "Alright." I take a deep breath. "Let's do this."

  Sebastian watches me with some deep, unidentifiable emotion in his eyes. "Yes, let's."

  Stalking over to Malavic, I tell him, "We need to know the best way out of here. And before you try to protest—"

  "Yes, yes, you'll leave me in this circle and the guards will run me through." He sighs dramatically. "This is what I get for asking you to summon me to Hell, but not specifying that you free me afterwards."

  "Stop whining. Tell me the way."

  "Very well: left, left, left, right, right, straight." He smirks. "Oh, and when you see the door made of human flesh, don't go through. There's lots of icky torture on the other side."

  I frown at him in disbelief. "That's it? A few measly directions?"

  "If you want me to be more specific, I can't be. When I came through here, I had a magical talisman with me. How I got it is complicated, but—it lit the way. Satisfied?"

  "Fine." Stepping forward, I smudge the lines of the summoning circle I drew, trying not to let my nervousness about what I'm doing show. "Don't follow us."

  "Wasn't planning on it."

  The doors creak. They're about to break. Ezra is standing on the other side of the pedestal, near the door out of here—the one that leads deeper into Hell.

  I spare one glance back at Malavic, who's facing the pounding at the doors with a shit-eating grin on his face, clearly ready for a fight. Then I rip my eyes away and head towards the door that'll lead us straight into damnation, Sebastian at my heels, the other guys ahead of me.

  Ezra asks, "Did he tell you the way?"

  "He did. Not that it was useful. But I think he dropped a piece of information that'll help more than any map."

  Taking a deep breath, I step through the door... and into pitch blackness, full of unnerving screams. Instead of letting myself freak out, I take a few more steps in, then reach over and brush my fingers against Gaugin's bracelet.

  In the most commanding voice I can muster, I tell it, "Illuminate the safest path through."

  At first I feel silly—what inanimate object takes orders? It seems too simple, and too good to be true. Then a tiny line of bright blue light bursts at my feet and whizzes away into the darkness—towards our left.

  As Sebastian pulls the door shut behind us, I turn towards the guys and tell them, "This way."

  We walk into the dark together, ready to face the worst thing of all: the truth.

  Chapter 18

  The blue light leads us past horrifying things that I glimpse in the darkness and try not to look at too long.

  People hung on meat hooks, their skin being flayed from their bodies. Others writhing on the ground, guts spilled, screaming for mercy. There are eyeballs alright—and terrible monsters who hunger for human misery.

  It's Hell, after all. I don't know what I was expecting. It still seems so unimaginably cruel—there's no redemption here, no way out.

  Not unless, like my quartet, you sign a contract full of catches, and serve Hell's whims for untold years. What a way out. But we're going to find the real way out soon, the one that leads to their freedom.

  The blue light brings us to a door that stands alone, no wall on either side of it, curved at the top and made of thick oak. I frown, stopping in front of the door, and pace around it to make sure the blue light doesn't continue on the other side. But it seems to have stopped here for a reason.

  "I guess we go through," I murmur, staring at the door. Tiny vines of ivy crawl up its surface and curl around the doorknob. "I'll go fir—"

  When I grab the door, though, a static shock goes up my arm. Snatching my palm back, I hiss and shake it, glaring at the knob.

  "I don't think the door is for you, Dani." Turning, I meet Lynx's gaze; his voice is hollow, his eyes just a little wide with trepidation. "It's... calling to me. I think I'm supposed to face whatever is on the other side. Alone."

  "No." Shaking my head, I reach for his hand and twine my fingers around his. It's a relief when he lets me, returning my grip. "If you go through this door, you're not going alone. We're going together—you and me."

  "We'll watch your backs," Ezra says, turning to face the darkness with a determined expression on his face. "If anything tries to stop you from freeing yourself, it'll have to face the three of us."

  "Thank you," Lynx tells them. Then he looks down at me. "I don't know what's on the other side of that door. You could be signing up to see terrible things. For all I know, I was a monster, and that's why I wound up here."

  "No way." Grinning up at him, I remind him, "You're way too much of a sweet nerd for that. Besides, the monsters are out there, getting their balls stretched and their noses cut off. Whatever is on the other side of that door, we can face it. Nothing will change expect that you'll finally be free."

  "You sound so sure."

  "I am." I make my voice firm. "I'm sure of this more than anything."

  He smiles a little, then turns towards the door, grips the doorknob, and opens it. Stepping through, he brings me with him—and we face his past together.

  On the other side of the door is a modest one-story house nestled in the suburbs. With a red brick exterior and a gabled roof, it looks a little old, a little worn, but well-loved. There are daisies in the front garden and a welcome mat by the front door.

  Staring at the house, Lynx says, "In here. I think that's where I'm supposed to go."

  The moment he's said it, we're inside the house, right at the threshold. I jump a little—then remind myself that this is a memory, after all, not reality. It makes sense that we would be guided through it.

  On the other side of the door is a modest living room with a worn-in couch and a small TV. There are things lying everywhere: comic books on the coffee table, an old doll lying on the floor, dog toys, a jacket crumpled on a chair, and more than a few empty snack packs. A woman is
singing under her breath in the other room, something in French, her hands in the sink washing dishes, her hair covered in a silk knot. Her complexion is dark and rich, like Lynx, and it's not hard to figure out where we are.

  This must be his childhood home.

  As if drawn by something, he turns away from the kitchen, towards a hallway off the living room. It was daytime when we entered, but it's dark now; crickets sing outside, and the TV turns itself towards an old late night talk show, the host interviewing an actor who hasn't been young or famous for decades.

  This all happened a long time ago, far into the past, but it's been dragging Lynx down and binding him to Hell for decades.

  I follow him into the hallway, which is dark. There's a door open to a room with a small nightlight on. Lynx stares inside; a boy sits on the bed, his face remarkably similar to Lynx's face, a comic book open in his lap. He doesn't read the words; instead he's chewing on his lower lip, eyes darting out towards the hallway, face full of anxiety.

  Further down the hallway, a door is cracked open, and light spills out from inside. Taking a deep breath, Lynx turns towards that door.

  He says to me, "This is it. That room—that's where something terrible happened." Flattening a hand over his chest, he adds, "I can feel it."

  "I can go first, if you want."

  "No." His voice is firm, sure. "This is mine to face."

  We walk down the hallway together. A man's voice filters through the door. I try not to hear the words, but they come to me anyway.

  "That feels good, doesn't it? You like it. And you love me, don't you?"

  "Yes, Papa."

  Lynx shudders. The man murmurs, "Now, because you love me—"

  I don't have to hear anymore. Pushing past him, I kick the door open, and stare at the scene frozen on the other side.

  A little girl. A grown man who should have protected her, but did something else instead. Something terrible.