Stealing Phoenix (10 page)

‘Ooo, long words.’ Xav chucked a crisp at him. ‘Sorry, a dumbo like me needs a translation.’

Yves rolled his eyes. ‘Pretty girls can be clever too. In fact, they often are.’

‘So why didn’t you say that first time?’

This was stupid: they were teasing each other as if nothing extraordinary was going on. Hello: there’s a stranger in the room with you.

‘Another sandwich?’ Yves offered me the plate.

‘No, I’m done.’

‘You’re still hungry.’

‘Just …’ I held up my hands between us. ‘Just give me a break, OK? I’ve got to go now.’

Yves glanced at his brother. ‘Make us a coffee, will you? Phee and I need to talk. We’ll be in the lounge.’

‘No,
Phee and I
won’t. Phee will be heading out of here. Key please.’ I cupped my palm, wiggling my fingers in a ‘hand-itover’ gesture.

‘Maybe you prefer tea?’ suggested Xav calmly.

‘Screw. You.’ I went to the counter and upended the tray of loose change and odds and ends, searching for the key.

‘Before you ransack the house, Phee, I think you should know we only have one key each and they are in our pockets.’ Yves walked out on me again, heading for the lounge.

‘If you’re going to hurt someone,’ said Xav as he filled the kettle, ‘I’d really prefer it to be my brother.’

They were playing with me and I hated it. Boiling with rage, I stamped after Yves. No sooner had I got into the lounge and filled my lungs to yell at him than he pounced on me from behind the door and tumbled me back on to the sofa, pinning my hands at my sides with his body. A traitorous part of me wanted to link my arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss, but the indignant majority was screaming to escape.

Yves squashed any rebellion by the simple method of letting me bear his full weight. ‘OK, this seems to be the only way to get you to listen to me, so I’m good with that.’

I closed my eyes but I’d already seen his mental pattern which must’ve matched mine in its hot intensity. In his mind, he wasn’t pulling some kind of weird dating move, just worked out that logically this was the quickest way of ending my attempts to escape. The fact that the full body contact was turning into something else had taken him by surprise. He lifted his weight on his forearms, embarrassed but determined.

‘You can either have a coffee with me like a civilized person while we sort this out, or we do it the hard way.’

‘Hard way?’ I couldn’t help cringing. Living with the Seer I had too much experience of what that meant. I knew Yves was too good to be true. Scratch anyone deep enough and the monster emerged. ‘Please, I … I’ll talk to you. Don’t hurt me.’

The tension left his body as he dropped his forehead against mine. ‘Phee, I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t even think that.’ He scooted back, letting me sit up. ‘I just meant we’d wait for Vick to get home. He’s the second eldest in my family and he’s good at getting answers out of people—that’s his power. But none of us would harm you; we only want to help you.’

I hunched over my curled legs. ‘Yeah, right.’

Yves shoved his fingers through his hair, a gesture I was beginning to recognize as characteristic of him when he reached the end of his tether. I was pushing him there a lot.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.

He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. Without the specs to enforce the intellectual look, he appeared vulnerable and younger—a bit like me without my make-up.

‘Look, I know I’m making mistakes with you but if you won’t tell me anything, that’s bound to happen. I want you to believe that you can trust me. It’s obvious you’ve come from a difficult background: won’t you share a little of what’s going on? What about your parents? Will they be a problem? Don’t they know about soulfinders?’

I picked at a loose thread in my horrible skirt. ‘My mum died nine years ago.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He cleared his throat. ‘So who do you live with? Your dad?’

I gave a grating laugh. ‘Maybe.’ I didn’t elaborate.

‘Phee …’

‘OK, OK. Look, I live in a sort of group of Savants. We don’t stay anywhere long.’

‘Who looks after you? I mean after your mum died and everything.’

‘You’re joking, right?’ People did not take in other people’s kids in my experience. ‘I looked after myself of course. With my gift, I was able to keep my place.’

‘What does “keep your place” mean?’

‘I have to bring in what I’m told to take. Kind of like a rent.’

He took my hand but I pulled it back. ‘OK, Oliver, I think I’m getting the picture. So who’s your Fagin?’

I snorted at the
Oliver Twist
reference: we were far from a merry band of singing orphans. ‘More like Bill Sykes, you mean.’ Rats, I hadn’t said that, had I?

But Yves had set his trap cleverly and leapt on my admission. ‘So you’re scared of someone—he’s making you do this for him?’

Yes—and no. Of course I was scared: I couldn’t remember a day when I hadn’t lived in fear of the Seer, but neither was I the fresh-faced Oliver shocked when he saw his friends nicking a handkerchief. I knew what I was doing when I stole and I very often enjoyed it—that would shock him to the core. ‘Yves, just accept that my world is not yours. You won’t understand how it is for me.’

‘Not if you don’t tell me.’

Xav entered, bearing two mugs of coffee on a tray with milk and sugar on the side. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,’ he murmured, more for his brother’s sake than mine, I’m sure.

‘Thanks, Xav.’ He handed me a mug and then the milk. I poured until the coffee turned caramel coloured and then shovelled in some sugar. If my energy levels were down, I’d have to replace some of it quickly to keep my wits about me. ‘Phee, I have to know why you sought me out in particular yesterday and today. It could be important.’

‘Oh, yeah, have I told you I’m sorry about that? You were just a job, you know, nothing personal.’

‘What kind of job?’

Would it hurt to explain how it had been set up? Not if I didn’t mention names. ‘I was shown your photo and told to get your valuables. I suppose someone wanted that next-generation iPad of yours.’

He narrowed his eyes, his wariness disappearing. He was all business now. ‘How did you know about that? It looked just the same as the usual model.’

‘Heard you telling Jo-Grid this morning. If it was a secret, you really shouldn’t go shooting your mouth off in public.’

‘It’s not a secret—not now at any rate as all that’s left is an interesting modern sculpture of tortured Apple technology.’ He gestured to a grey hunk of junk marring the blond wood sideboard. Oops.

‘I’d say I’d pay you back but I can’t. I don’t have that kind of money.’ Or any money unless I picked a pocket.

‘You can pay me back by answering my questions.’

I took a sip of coffee, considering my options. ‘Do we have to do this now? I’m really tired and I don’t like talking about myself.’

‘I would never have guessed.’ He gave me an ironic flick of a smile. Oh lord, he was beautiful: face like an angry angel, a St Michael slaying the dragon, sleek black hair and eyes that shone with intelligence and curiosity. His frameless glasses added to the very correct impression that here was a boy not to be underestimated.

‘Yeah, I’m sorry.’ Exhaustion was creeping up on me. I yawned, trying to work out how long I had. The brother called Vick was due back at six. I could sleep for a couple of hours, give some vague answers, and still get away before he returned. My gift would be stronger if I wasn’t so run down and I’d need it to get the key and flee. ‘Would you mind if I curled up here for a bit? You can still ask me questions.’ And I’d sleep through them.

‘Be my guest.’ He seemed happy to continue the interrogation in more relaxed mode, perhaps hoping to get more answers out of me that way.

I put my coffee back on the tray, then swung my legs round.

Yves put a cushion on his lap. ‘You’ll be more comfortable this way round.’ He patted the pillow.

Looked good to me. I took off my glasses and swivelled so I could put my head down. ‘Fire away.’

He laughed, making the pillow jiggle under my cheek. ‘You shouldn’t say that to me—I’ll take it as an invitation to fl ex my power. Three fire incidents in two days—you are hell on my control.’ He didn’t ask any questions, just let me lie there, his hand resting on my hair. He unravelled a few strands from the scarf. Fed up with the pull on my scalp, I tugged the scarf off.

‘Better? He shifted through the uneven locks.

‘Hmm.’

‘Did you know you’ve got really soft hair?’

That sounded nice.

‘But you should sue your hairdresser.’

I smiled into his denim clad thigh. ‘I’ll tell her you said so when I wake up.’

It was four in the afternoon when I surfaced from my sleep. Yves hadn’t moved but was sitting with his hand resting on my shoulder, reading a thick book on climate change. It sprawled on his spread palm like a grounded fat pigeon with limp wings and must have been very uncomfortable to hold like that for any length of time. I lay still for a moment, able to see the page he was studying without him knowing I was awake. I liked his fingers: long and tanned on the back; dark hairs on his arm as far as his wrist, then a pale palm etched with lines. It felt good to know such tiny details about him, how his tendons bunched as he carefully turned a page so as not to disturb me, how he had a scar on the heel of his hand. If I bunched my fist, I was sure he would be able to fold it in his much larger palm, but unlike with Dragon, the thought that he was bigger and stronger than me did not intimidate. I was sure now that he would not hurt me intentionally; the fact that he had let me sleep when he wanted to interrogate me proved that. It was even more amazing that I had trusted him enough to let down my guard; I wondered if my traitorous DNA was overruling my brain in the presence of my soulfinder.

I shifted my head, feeling the damp patch under my cheek where my mouth had been partly open. I hadn’t been dribbling in my sleep, had I? How humiliating.

‘Awake, Sleeping Beauty?’ Yves put the book on the glass-topped coffee table, squashing the photo of polar bears against the ice surface.

I sat up quickly and wiped my arm across my mouth. ‘Thanks. I needed that.’

He got up and stretched, shaking out cramp from his legs. ‘Ready for another drink? A soda?’

I followed him into the space-age kitchen, units gun-metal grey. It smelt of ground coffee and a sharp lemon spray. Xav was tapping away at a computer keyboard and just smiled briefly at me before returning to his task.

‘What flavour is “soda”? I only know it as something you use for cleaning drains or baking.’

‘A fizzy drink in British English.’ He got out a large bottle of lemonade. ‘Or perhaps you’d prefer a juice?’

‘Yes, orange if you have it.’

‘Something to eat?’

I shook my head.

Yves put two juices and a packet of biscuits on a tray and led me back to the sofa. Used to taking my own decisions, I felt more than a bit pathetic trailing after him but for the moment I could only wait and see what he had in mind. He cracked open the packet and offered me one. Bang went my no-food resolution—they were chocolate and this girl only has so much self-restraint. I took one.

He still didn’t say anything, just sat back and sipped his drink, gazing out of the window at the seagulls circling the tower. His silence was beginning to unnerve me. Had he changed his mind about me while I slept? Had he decided to go for the ‘hard way’ after all?

‘So … um … what do you want to know?’

‘Why you came back today would be a good start,’ he said quietly. ‘You knew my stuff was trashed, but you still followed me and tried to steal from me again. That doesn’t make sense if, as you said, you were after the new Apple technology.’

I swallowed and nodded. I was going to have to tell him enough to satisfy his curiosity without giving anything important away. ‘Yes, I see how that looks weird to you. The … um … thing is I didn’t tell my Fagin, as you called him, that the iPad exploded—he wouldn’t believe me or he would’ve punished me and … and … someone else I care about.’

Yves’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowing with suspicion. ‘And who’s that—the person you care for?’