Page 61 of Flames

Kole… Her reply is feint. Barely audible. But it’s there.

Don’t try to talk. Just listen. Listen to my voice. I’m here, I love you.

She screams again.

I’m here, Little Star. I love you.

This time, the scream falters. A hound sinks its teeth into her neck. There is the sound of skin breaking, but I can no longer see her. All I see is the arched backs of the hellhounds as they devour her.

“Enough.” Ragnor looks at Eve. She clicks her fingers, and the beasts jump down from the fountain. Blood and saliva drip from their jaws. Nova’s blood.

I stand up, steadying myself on the tree beside me. All I can see of Nova is her pale arm hanging over the side of the basin. My mind flashes back to the first time I saw her. The night I brought her to my apartment above The Cross when she lay on my couch with her silk-smooth arm flopping down beside her.

Now, it is not smooth. It is torn and broken. Blood runs down it, dripping from her fingers onto the grass below her, painting her rings a deep, dark red.

Eve takes hold of Nova’s wrist. She sniffs it. Her tongue darts out as if she’s going to take a taste for herself, but Ragnor snaps at her to, “Leave it, Eve.” So, she shoves Nova’s arm back down into the fountain and moves away.

“When she stops bleeding,” Ragnor says, “give her body to the hounds. I will fetch vials for the blood.”

Crouching down, Eve strokes the hounds’ ears. “I will watch her.”

“No need,” Ragnor snaps. “She’s dead. She won’t go anywhere.”

“I like watching her bleed,” Eve says, standing so she can stare into the fountain.

And she does; she watches Nova until Ragnor returns, transfixed, humming to herself, stroking her own arms, and running her fingers through her long, tangled hair.

“Here.” He thrusts a large glass vial at her, then takes another from his pocket. “Two will be enough?” he asks.

“Two will be enough,” Eve says, picking up Nova’s hand and holding it so the blood now drips from her fingers into the vial. “He only needs a few drops. But she is precious. If we can gather more, we should. The King will be extra especially pleased.”

Ragnor dips his hand into the fountain to fill his own vial. “If you want more, you can go fetch another vial.”

Eve shakes her head. “I can’t go. I like watching her like this. I like watching her…” She stops and frowns, then she says, “Smoke.”

“Smoke?” Ragnor grabs Eve’s elbow. “What are you talking about?”

“Smoke…there’s smoke.” Eve points a long pale finger at the basin. She staggers back, clutching the vial. “Was that supposed to happen? When we drained her?”

I see it too. Plumes of pale gray smoke float into the air. They swirl around the fountain, growing faster and thicker.

Seconds later, the smoke turns to something else; flames. Flickering orange flames. At first, they are small and weak, barely more than embers. Then they grow. They surge toward the sky. They spread like wildfire, consuming the fountain.

Eve and Ragnor back away, the hounds start to howl, the flames dance higher, and The Phoenix Prophecy echoes in my head.

Devoured by flame, The Phoenix is She.

* * *