Burning Yves (Benedicts #2.5) (6 page)

A taxi appeared at the next set of lights and Yves flagged it down. ‘Take us to the Barbican, please.’

Phoenix got into the back of the cab without a fuss. In fact, Yves thought he might have made the first good decision of the day as she stroked the leather seat, seeming to find the experience a novelty.

‘He’s really annoyed with me,’ Yves continued, picking up on where he had left the conversation. More of a monologue, he acknowledged silently. ‘He’s spent all morning chatting up a guide at the Globe Theatre and now he’s having to dump her just when things were looking promising.’

A little crease appeared at the top of her nose as she frowned. ‘He shouldn’t—not for me.’

She really didn’t get it, did she? Risking rejection, Yves slid closer and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Course he should. You’re mine, so that makes you family. Our need is greater than his.’

Any hint that she had relaxed with him vanished. He’d hit a sore spot. ‘Don’t you have brothers and sisters?’ he asked. It was hard to imagine growing up without a bunch of brothers rattling about the house with you. He’d hoped she hadn’t been alone.

But Phoenix seemed to fold inside herself, locking her thoughts and emotions tight within her, a little hard nub of stubborn refusal to cooperate.

‘I wish Sky were here,’ Yves murmured. Right now, Sky’s ability to read emotions would be very helpful.

‘Who’s Sky?’

Maybe this was the way to go? Keep feeding her with stories about the people she would be joining. ‘My younger brother’s soulfinder. She’s British.’

‘Oh.’

‘She sees people’s emotions. Makes her really intuitive. And she’s come from a rough place. I think she’d understand you better than any of us.’

‘But she’s not here?’

Would Phoenix like another girl to talk to? That made sense. ‘No, she’s on vacation with Zed and her parents.’ Should he put in a call, get her to come to the UK to help out?

The cab pulled over. Phoenix made a fuss about leaving the driver a big tip—Yves had noticed that English people weren’t used to tipping generously—but he won the tussle. He had millions in the bank thanks to his security app, so tipping a driver a measly few pounds was no big deal.

Follow me
. Dipping back into the intimacy of telepathy, Yves held out a hand. He wanted to get his Phoenix out of the gloomy underpass beneath the Barbican as quickly as possible. Like a mistreated cutting put on a windowsill to recover, she needed sunlight and care.

Lead the way, O master,
she snapped back.

Yves was pleased to see a little spirit had returned, even if it was aimed at him.
Glad to see you’ve seen the light. I only want what’s best for you.

Mr Arrogant or what?

I don’t mean it like that.
She was driving him crazy.
I just want to make this right but I seem to be doing it all wrong.

Then let me go.

That would be a tragedy. Give me a chance here. Please.

She hovered uncertainly, a falcon circling, undecided whether to land on the falconer’s glove or not. He must not underestimate her. Would she go with him, risk meeting yet more savants, enter his world; or would she vanish, taking with her the chance for them both to find happiness? He had to remember that she was wild and saw him as both promise and threat. But neither should she take him for a fool. Now he’d found her, he wasn’t going to let her get away from him again.

Yves waited her out. He refused to lose her, not his soulfinder. If she did run, then he’d just have to find her and steal her back, wouldn’t he?

The story continues in
Stealing Phoenix …

Joss Stirling lives in Oxford and has always been facinated by the idea that life is more than what we see on the surface.

You can visit her website at
www.josstirling.com
.

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