The Phoenix Prophecy: Nova

As I close the apartment door, I hear him scream.

I stop in the hallway. It’s cooler out here. Quiet. Then there are footsteps behind me.

“Nova?” My neighbor, Sarah, is standing in front of me. She ducks to meet my eyes, but as she examines me, she slams a hand over her mouth. “Dear God, what happened to you?”

I look down. Smoke is snaking out from beneath the door. The building’s fire alarm starts to wail.

“Johnny…” I’m shaking, but it isn’t fear making me tremble; it’s adrenaline. I can feel it coursing through my veins. Throbbing beneath my skin.

Sarah gestures to the front door. “We need to get out of here. The fire department will be on their way. Is Johnny still in there?” She coughs as the smoke catches in her throat.Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

I don’t answer her.

When we’re outside on the lawn, she puts her arm around me. As she makes contact with me, she jumps back. “Jesus, Nova, it’s like you’re on fire.”

“Is she okay?” A voice calls over. People are flocking from the building now. Gathering outside.

“I think she’s in shock,” Sarah replies, narrowing her eyes at me. She has kind eyes. Silvery blue, and silvery hair to match.

I’m about to tell her I’m okay when my legs give way from beneath me and I end up kneeling on the floor. I screw my eyes shut because, suddenly, it’s not Johnny’s face I’m seeing in the flames; it’s my parents’.

Not now. I can’t think of them now.

The image disappears, but then another barrels through me. Sam. My brother.

“Nova?” Sarah is crouching in front of me. She cups my hands in hers. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting like this.

A female paramedic is standing next to her. Sarah smiles gently at me. “The medics are going to check you over now. All right?”

I allow the paramedic to help me to my feet. Slowly, she guides me to an ambulance parked half-way up the sidewalk.

“I’m so tired.” I mutter. A man is inside. He wraps me in a blanket. Behind us, the fire department has started work and Sarah is watching them. There is no sign of Johnny.

“Sit down,” the woman says as she reaches for an oxygen mask. Her name tag reads Beth.

I do as I’m told, but flinch as the mask is slotted over my face.

Blinking at Beth and the man beside her, whose tag I can’t see, I watch as they start to examine me.

“Her clothes…” Beth gestures at my shirt. I follow her gaze. The checked fabric is scorched. No longer blue and white, but dark gray and hanging off me. Barely there. “But there’s not a mark on her.” Beth runs her fingers over the skin on my arm. “Except this…” She points to my chest and raises an eyebrow.

The man moves forward. He takes a turn scrutinizing me, looks at the A.M.A. mark emblazoned on my chest. “No burns,” he says. “But how is that possible?”

Beth shakes her head at him. She’s inched away from me. She looks scared.

The man sits down on the plastic bench and tries to soften his expression. “Did someone try to hurt you, Nova?”

I don’t answer.

“Can you tell me what this mark is?”

I don’t answer. He knows what it is. Whether or not he’s a member is hard to discern.

“Okay.” He sounds frustrated. “Then can you tell us what happened in there?”

Tugging the oxygen mask away from my face, I clear my throat. It is scratchy but not sore. “My boyfriend tried to kill me.” I close my eyes as I picture Johnny lunging for me with his knife.

“Did he start the fire?” Beth asks.

“I think so.” I lie, but then I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“Did he give you that mark?” She meets my eyes.

I offer her a small nod.

Beth motions for her colleague to follow her outside. As the doors close, I breathe in the silence. I should probably be feeling panicked, or afraid, or something. Instead, I’m strangely calm.

The medics have been gone only a few seconds when Sarah appears. Her eyes wide, her hands trembling. “Thank God, you’re okay.” She climbs into the ambulance and crouches down in front of me, reaches for my hands, then stops as if she’s afraid to touch me.

“I’m not hurt,” I tell her.

She takes in my clothes, my lack of burns. “That’s what they’re saying.” Sarah looks toward the door. “They’re also saying…” She sucks in her breath. “The medics are saying you could be a witch.”

I frown. “Sarah, we’ve been neighbors for ten years. I’m human. You know that.” I shake my head. “But what difference does it make? Johnny attacked me. He tried to kill me.”

Fixing me with a pale stare, Sarah licks her lower lip. “Yes, but if they accuse you of starting the fire…” She dips her head as if I should understand what she is saying. “Witches are forbidden to use their powers against humans. It’s part of the treaty. Supers must not harm humans.”

I blink at her. “It was self-defense. Johnny had a knife. But I’m not…”

“Listen.” Sarah grips my knee, swallowing hard. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. The fact is, Ridgemore is crawling with Anti Magick Alliance. Folks around here aren’t going to pass up the opportunity to make it look like a witch tried to kill a human.” She stands up and helps me to my feet. “We need to get you out of here. Now.”

Stumbling from the ambulance, I spot the paramedics talking to a couple of firefighters. Before they can look in our direction, Sarah has bundled me around the back of the apartment block, into her car, and is starting the engine.

“The cops will be here soon. We have to go.” She pulls into the street and takes the first left.

“Where are we going?” I rub at my throbbing temples.

“You need to get out of town. Maybe it’ll all blow over.” She bites her lower lip. “But maybe it won’t.”

Looking down at my lap, I pick at a charred hole in my jeans.

“I’ll take you to the bus station. Get on the first bus out of Ridgemore. Right?”

I look at Sarah’s face in the darkness. “You’ve been watching too many cop shows.”

I’m chuckling when Sarah slams on the brakes and spins to face me. “This isn’t a joke. What happened back there could land you in jail. Worse if the A.M.A. take it personally.”

“Sarah, I swear to you… I’m not a witch.”

Without answering, Sarah starts the engine again and turns to focus on the road.

She remains silent until we pull up on a street I recognize as being directly behind the bus station. Then, opening her purse, she fishes out her wallet, removes a wad of cash, and hands it to me. “There’s about two hundred dollars in there. That’s all I have with me. Take it.”

“I can’t…”

“Take it,” Sarah repeats firmly. “Get on the first bus out of town and keep going until you’re as far away from the Anti Magick Belt as possible.”

I look at the money in my hand. I’ve never held that much money in my life, let alone been given it by someone I barely know. “Why are you helping me?”

Sarah lets out a small sigh. “Because not everyone in Ridgemore hates supers.” She squeezes my shoulder. “And because I’ve never liked that good-for-nothing boyfriend of yours.”

Dazed, unsure of what I’m supposed to be doing or feeling, I turn away from her and pause with my hand on the door. A sudden burst of emotion blooms in my rib cage. “How did this happen?” I whisper. “I don’t know how this happened.”

A jolt of pain grips my temples. Flames flash in front of my eyes. Johnny. My parents. Johnny. Sam. Johnny.

“Everything happens for a reason.” Sarah gives me a moment, then reaches across me to open the door.

On the sidewalk, I stoop to look back into the car.

“Wait.” Sarah holds up her index finger. For a moment, I think she’s going to offer to come with me. “Take these too.” She’s holding out a long brown coat and a pair of white sneakers. Laughing a little as I tug off my singed ankle boots, she adds, “You’ll need to make finding clothes a priority when you get to where you’re going.”

Shrugging myself into the coat and putting Sarah’s cash into the inside pocket, I try to smile back.

“Go on…” She waves for me to get going, and before I can say anything, she speeds off into the night.

Pulling the belt of Sarah’s brown coat as tight as possible around my waist—which is difficult as she’s at least two sizes smaller than I am—I check that my sleeves and chest are shielded from view, then take the alley that leads to the station.

It’s quiet. Just a handful of people milling about. Glancing toward the ticket booth, I’m relieved to see it’s open. Dipping my head, I approach and wait behind an elderly man with a large black suitcase. While he buys a ticket to the next town over, Freeport, I study the board.

The next bus leaving, in ten minutes, is headed for Jacksonville. A small town, about fifty miles away, on the cusp of what is known these days as the Anti Magick Belt.

As my eyes run down the list of departures, the third destination on the board flickers. In and out. Phoenix Falls. Before I can reach for my phone to Google where it is, it’s my turn at the window.

“Good evening, Ma’am. How can I help you?”

“Phoenix Falls, please.”

“Return?”

I hesitate. “No. One way.”

After handing over the money, I pick up the ticket and turn it over in my hands. Phoenix Falls. My stomach flutters. The name feels familiar and yet I’ve never heard of it before.

“Bus leaves in fifteen minutes. Bay Seven.” I’m about to walk away when the cashier adds. “You’re lucky. We don’t usually run this route. It was added to the schedule this morning.”

“This morning?”

“Uh huh.” The cashier is already waving the next customer forward. “Have a good trip.”

Thanking her, my fingers tighten around the ticket. Phoenix Falls. Why do I feel like I know that place?

In Bay Seven, waiting for the bus to arrive, I’m alone. When it pulls up, however, I count six passengers on board. Four of them look like they’re sleeping. One is bobbing his head to music from his earphones. Another is reading.

Handing my ticket to the driver, I scan the empty seats. “How long to Phoenix Falls?” I ask.

Not looking at me, already closing the doors and reversing out of the parking spot, he replies, “It’s a straight run from here. Three hours. No rest stops. There’s a restroom at the rear if you need to go.”

As the bus leaves the station, I allow myself to breathe properly for what feels like the first time in hours. I walk to the back of the bus and settle into a seat by the window. Everyone else on board has luggage. All I have is Sarah’s money, her coat, and my phone. Squirming to reach into my pocket, I pull my phone out and stare at it.

It is completely black. Melted. I can see the heat coming off it, but I can’t feel it. I press my finger to the charred carcass. Nothing. Not hot. Not cold. Nothing.

A seasick sensation settles in my stomach. I try to calm my breathing.

I should have died in that fire. I should have been burned alive, but I lived. There isn’t a mark on me—at least not one cause by the flames—and that isn’t possible.

At least, it isn’t humanly possible.