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  Phoenix

  A Leah Wolfe SINS Novel, Book 4

  Rhonda L. Print

  Published 2013

  ISBN: 978-1-93176-187-1

  Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2013, Rhonda L. Print. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Liquid Silver Books

  http://LSbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Blurb

  Leah Wolfe of the Supernatural Investigations of Non-human Species—SINS for short—is learning to control her necromancer skills while balancing her life as a federal agent and fiancée to the Marquis of the vampire world, Ian Nightwalker.

  When her godson is kidnapped and the kidnapper offers to trade the boy for Leah, she doesn’t hesitate.

  Leah finds herself in the lair of Phoenix, a former Marquis bent on avenging the death of his lover. He is also a scientist who is using DNA from various species with the hopes of creating an army of Supernaturals.

  Leah must stop Phoenix, save those he has tampered with, and get back to Ian.

  But first, she must save herself.

  Dedication

  For my husband, for your continued support, encouragement, and love.

  Acknowledgements

  To all of those wonderful people who help me polish my work, including my editors, Meghan Rielle, Allie Hart, Georgia Woods and Lynne Taloa Anderson, and cover artist, Valerie Tibbs.

  To all the usual suspects who listen to me brainstorm and rant, and encourage, demand, or tie me to the desk chair to get the book finished!

  Chapter 1

  Ground fog covered all but the tips of the headstones marking graves that dated back to the early nineteen hundreds. Angels Cross was one of the oldest and most prestigious cemeteries in the state. Governors, actors, almost anyone on the proverbial who’s who list were, most likely laid to rest in this hallowed ground. That offered me no comfort as I stepped through the mist and made my way to Tabitha Walden’s grave. Her grandfather, Arthur Walden, was a prominent businessman, and a strong supporter of the Supernatural Investigations of Non-Human Species, SINS for short the branch of law enforcement that employed me as a federal agent. Had Walden’s influence, and more importantly, his money, bought my services for the evening?

  I’d like to say no.

  I’d really, really like to say no.

  But that would make me naive and, while I was many things, gullible definitely was not one of them.

  “Federal Agent Leah Wolfe.” Arthur Walden’s deep voice cut through the dark just before his rotund figure appeared through the mist surrounding him. His expression was somber as he extended his hand to me in greeting.

  “That’s what they tell me.” I shook his hand and flashed a look at Sam standing beside him.

  “Mr. Anderson here tells me you’re the best at what you do.” Walden’s gaze slid to Sam then back to me.

  “Well, he should know,” I replied drily.

  Sam cleared his throat, warning me to behave. “Leah is the only Necromancer in existence that we know of.”

  Sam Anderson was the director of SINS. He was my boss as well as my friend. He also knew I wasn’t thrilled about using my necromancy. Having the ability to speak to the souls of the dead was one thing; being able to raise them from their graves and reanimate them was downright creepy. Yet that was the gift I had, even if I was just learning how to use it.

  “You are aware that my abilities are inconsistent.” I tried once again to backpedal my way out of this mess.

  “Don’t be modest, Miss Wolfe.” Arthur jerked his head toward Sam. “Mr. Anderson speaks very highly of you.”

  “And I appreciate that—however…” I tried to keep from openly scowling at Sam, “I cannot make any guarantees.”

  “You are the only chance that I have to say good-bye to my granddaughter, Miss Wolfe.” He leveled his gaze with mine. “Please, just try.”

  I let out a heavy breath and nodded. “Let’s get started then, shall we?” I followed Sam and Arthur through the maze of headstones, trying my best to walk between them. Somehow, it just didn’t seem right to walk over the ground where their bodies were buried. The moon shone a perfect half curve, illuminating the mist and giving the haze an eerie life of its own as it wafted throughout the cemetery and swirled around the central mausoleum.

  Walden finally stopped and jerked his head toward the nearest headstone. I walked closer to Tabitha’s grave and ran my hand along the top of her marker. It was white marble inscribed with her name, dates of birth and death. IN THE ARMS OF ANGELS was engraved across the top, and BELOVED DAUGHTER AND GRANDDAUGHTER below that.

  Tabitha had been found dead in her home of an apparent overdose of narcotics. The coroner called it suicide and Arthur used his substantial influence to keep it out of the newspapers. Mustn’t let the actions of his granddaughter tarnish his squeaky-clean reputation.

  I wondered how many times he’d used his influence to protect Tabitha, not that I blamed him. Arthur raised Tabitha himself. She was the only family he had left. His wife died years before and both of Tabitha’s parents followed soon after in a tragic house fire. When Arthur asked Sam for our help, he confided in him that he thought the stress of losing so many people drove Tabitha to take her own life.

  “Where do you need me to stand?” Arthur called, interrupting my thoughts.

  “A couple of feet away from the headstone should do.” As long as he wasn’t in the way of the body I was there to raise, it didn’t really matter. Keep it professional, Leah.

  Sam stood beside Arthur and I saw him tense as I kneeled before the headstone. Sam didn’t like graveyards; most people don’t, especially at night.

  Saying a small prayer, I blessed myself with the sign of the cross and then stood, took a deep breath, and tried to clear my head of all thoughts except for Tabitha. I envisioned her in the photographs Arthur had provided for me and wondered what her life had been like. She had been undoubtedly happy in the pictures with her parents. Her eyes were bright and wide with innocence. Then the photos taken of her after her parents’ deaths slipped into my mind when the joy seemed to have been drained from her. The misery of the loss of her parents was evident in every aspect of her appearance. Her eyes were jaded—stripped of their innocence and clouded in angst.

  The ground below me rumbled as if a great vibration rocked the earth, sending bits of dirt and rock dancing upon its surface.

  Arthur Walden gasped as the ground cracked over Tabitha’s grave, leaving a fissure nearly six feet long. It was as if the earth had opened a passageway for her to climb out of her tomb.

  Two hands gripped the side of the fissure and Tabitha hoisted herself out of the earth. She clambered to her feet and placed her hands on her head, feeling her face as if looking for damage. My heart dropped into my stomach.

  This had been no drug overdose.

  Tabitha Walden was shot in the head, at very close range judging from the damage. While the left side of her face was intact, the top right side was nearly completely missing. Only her eyeball, dangling from a piece of tendon, remained. Her jaw was completely undamaged as if the bullet had managed to crack off a piece of her top skull and then fragmented out the back, leaving most of its carnage there.

  “What the
hell?” I managed to yell at Arthur just before Tabitha opened her mouth in an eerie wail that pierced the peaceful night air.

  “I thought she’d be a ghost!” Arthur’s expression was horrified and his deep voice cracked. “I’m s-sorry, Tabby, so sorry.” Arthur stammered. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this.” He edged closer to Tabitha, his voice pleading.

  “You killed her?” Sam’s voice hitched as the blood drained from his face.

  “No.” Arthur turned his attention to Sam. “It wasn’t really me.”

  At his words, Tabitha’s head snapped toward Arthur. Her eyeball made a sloshing sound as it dangled from her face. Tabitha made a few wet, choking gurgles. “You did this to me.” Tabitha said it as if she died knowing her grandfather had killed her. The pain of her betrayal hollowed the insides of my chest, halting my breath.

  Tabitha tottered closer to Arthur. “I’m your granddaughter!” What was left of her face twisted with anguish.

  Arthur stumbled back as she closed in on him. I felt his fear, his horror, and couldn’t bring myself to care. He’d had his own granddaughter murdered. He deserved to feel like shit.

  Arthur's voice rose. “I could never hurt you. I wasn’t myself; it was me, but not me.” His face wrinkled as he spoke. As if even he realized what he’d just said didn’t make sense. “It was a nightmare, not real.”

  “Does this look like a dream? I am your granddaughter!” She screeched as she closed the remaining distance between them. “The child of your only daughter!”

  Arthur braced himself against a headstone. “I don’t know how, but it wasn’t me. I swear it!”

  “What the hell is going on, Arthur?” Sam demanded.

  “I could never do this.” Arthur turned toward Sam. “I swear—it wasn’t really me.”

  I didn’t like the feel of this. “Sam?” I called cautiously. “Step away from Arthur.”

  “How the hell could you do this?” Sam stood his ground, ignoring my warning.

  “Move, Sam!” I shouted, a moment before Tabitha jumped at her grandfather and flattened him to the ground.

  I leaped at Sam and wrenched him away as Tabitha tore into her grandfather. She ripped strips of flesh off him as he screamed wildly.

  I started an incantation, ordering Tabitha back to her grave, but it didn’t even slow her down. I was supposed to be able to control her.

  So much for that theory.

  I pulled my gun and fired one shot into Tabitha.

  She turned, her hands dripping with the goo and flesh of her grandfather and speckles of blood dotting her face and the front of the dress she’d been buried in. “I’m already dead. You can’t kill me twice,” she sneered.

  I fired another shot into her, but she simply turned away and continued battering Arthur.

  I began chanting, “Tabitha Walden, go back to your grave” over and over again. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind of everything except the vision of her sinking back into her grave—a damn difficult thing to pull off while she was stripping chunks off Arthur and flinging them around us.

  My eyes flew open as the sickening crack of bone silenced Arthur’s piercing screams. Tabitha had smashed a fist-sized rock into the side of his head. He lay on the ground near his granddaughter’s grave with most of his brain exposed to the night sky. A black haze rose above his body, raising goose bumps along every inch of my flesh.

  Sam leaned heavily on a tombstone with his hand clenched over his mouth. He was sheet white now with horror etched on his face.

  Finally, as if it had waited for her to claim her vengeance, an unseen force dragged Tabitha back while she screamed and thrashed, fighting until the very end.

  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. May God be with you in your final rest.” I spoke the words my lover, Ian, and I used when I practiced my necromancy on dead animals, praying it would work on humans as well. Ian and I had researched every myth we could find on necromancy and this one phrase seemed to be used consistently.

  I let out a breath of relief when Tabitha’s head lolled back. Her eye closed and her body became limp. Then the earth rumbled and swallowed her again, leaving the ground exactly as it was before I called her from the grave.

  I turned to find Sam hovering over Arthur Walden’s body. His cell phone was in his hand and from his quiet tone I knew he was calling in a cleanup crew.

  “Didn’t you check the coroner's report?” I realized that I was shaking bad, sweat mingling with tears as they streamed down my face. I took a few deep breaths to collect my thoughts. I knew I wasn’t directly responsible for Arthur’s death, but the fact remained that if I hadn’t raised his granddaughter, he would still be alive.

  Sam’s hand on my shoulder made me jump. I didn’t even know that he’d moved closer to me.

  Not good. Not good at all.

  “I’m sorry, Leah. I had no idea that Arthur killed her.” He shook his head slowly. “I fucked up. I trusted him.”

  I rolled the kinks out of my neck as my heart beat like a jackhammer against my ribs. “Next time, if there ever is a next time, pull the damn coroner’s report first.”

  Sam put his hand on my arm and gently kneaded it. “Are you okay?”

  “Just fucking peachy!” I took more deep breaths and said, “I’m good.”

  “I’m sorry, Leah,” Sam said again.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I quipped, my breath a little steadier now.

  “Hang around until the cleanup crew arrives. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “No thanks.” He raised an eyebrow in question. “I’m fine, I really just want to go home,” I added.

  “I made this mess,” Sam said. “I’ll clean it up.”

  “Fine by me.”

  Chapter 2

  By the time I got home, I had finally stopped shaking. My muscles ached and I just couldn’t crawl into bed with the stench of death still lingering on me. I took a shower and scrubbed a little too vigorously, as if I could wash what happened tonight out of my mind. After popping four ibuprofens, I decided I needed something more to loosen the tension burning through my muscles. Thank God for the jetted tub. Sinking into the water until I was covered from toe to chin and turning on the jets, I lay in the water until my fingers pruned, letting the Jacuzzi beat against my skin and ease the knots in my body.

  Afterward, I dried quickly and then let the tub drain while I sat on the edge of my bed. I flipped on the fan on my nightstand.

  Regardless of the temperature, I always slept with the fan on. Its rhythmic sound helped to silence not only the world around me, but also my haunting thoughts.

  I scooted over to my side of the bed. Since when do I have a “side of the bed”? The thought brought a smile to my lips.

  I lived alone for most of my life, or I had until Ian Nightwalker’s house was set on fire by some very nasty people who wanted him dead.

  He could have moved back to Dark Nights of the Desert, the casino that he owned and operated, but I offered him my home, and my heart; not that he didn’t have other places to live. Ian is the Marquis for this territory. In short, he was the ruling Supernatural leader for North America. It is a type of vampire royalty earned through not only birth or name, but by the amount of power he possessed. At one time he shunned the position, but once the Vampire Rights Amendment, or VRA, had gone into effect Ian recognized the need for someone of character to serve as liaison between the human and Supernatural worlds.

  We lived together in my small adobe rental until Ian’s home was rebuilt. He proposed in this very bed and I’d accepted. Well, not immediately. That would have been very un-Leah-like for me. He asked me to marry him, then slipped the ring on my finger just as the sun stole him away. Yes, vampires do die at sunrise. How long they remain dead depends entirely upon how powerful they are. Ian didn’t die for long.

  I’d run to my best friend, a woman who had always been like a sister to me and blessedly, a human companion in my world of Supernatural shit, Jess. It was early but I knew she’d b
e awake; stealing a few quiet moments before her son, Oscar awoke for the day. Jess was an awesome mom despite the fact that she’d gone through her pregnancy and has raised him by herself. Who fathered Oscar had always been a mystery to everyone except Jess. It was a piece of her life that she’d kept to herself.

  Like the good friend she was, Jess listened as I ranted and raved, while she smiled patiently, knowing how much I loved Ian.

  Then I went to Alli, my adopted mother, and poured my heart out to her. Soon after, I went back to Ian’s house—now our home—and accepted. He dropped to one knee at the side of this bed and formally asked for my hand in marriage.

  It had taken a long time for my heart to accept love again.

  I had been engaged before and it had ended badly. Very badly. My former fiancé, Joaquin Wildhorse, wasn’t able to accept my abilities and thought that once we married, I’d settle down to be a good little housewife, pop out a few kids, and no longer have the supernatural powers that I was born with. He didn’t really love me. I guess he loved the person he thought he could make me.

  He was wrong.

  While I was away working a serial murder case, he was in the bed of another woman. That woman ended up dead and he convinced my adopted father, the city police chief, to ask me to help him clear his name.

  I met Ian while working that murder case. My ex-fiancé’s connection to the victim promptly made him suspect number one.

  He didn’t do it. Someone far more powerful than a mere human cop killed her.

  Elizabeth, an ancient vampire who had been locked up for more than a century for killing countless young women to bathe in their blood, had found a way out of her eternity of prison.

  Once Ian met me and “felt” how powerful my abilities were, he knew Elizabeth would come looking for me. She had the ability to absorb the powers of anyone she killed and he knew she’d want mine.

  Hell, at the time I would’ve gladly given them to her if there had been a way that didn’t involve my death. I’ve since embraced the extra abilities that come from being me. Or at least I have tried.