Free Chaos Bites by Lori Handeland

old enough to know such things that appearances deceive. A pretty outside often covers a very ugly inside. People who took one look at me and decided they wanted to get to know me because of my appearance never got to.
    “Here.” I reached for Luther’s mashed nose.
    He lifted his upper lip in a silent snarl and twitched his nose into place himself. The bone made an audible crack , and his snarl became decidedly un-silent.
    I pulled off my ruined gauze top and turned so I could see my shoulder. The skin was already knitting back together over the hole. “The bullet has to come out.”
    I wouldn’t die from an infection, but I wouldn’t feel too great while my body fought one, either.
    My gaze met Luther’s in the mirror. “I don’t think I can do it myself.”
    I carried a heavy-duty first-aid kit in my duffel. Luther sterilized the scalpel with alcohol then pressed a soaked piece of gauze to the hole. I clenched my teeth until the fiery sting faded.
    “Better sit, Liz.” Luther indicated the toilet seat. “You might want to take off the bra or it’ll be ruined.”
    “Nice try, big boy. The bra stays on.”
    Luther snorted then hissed in a sharp breath. His nose might seem fine, but it obviously wasn’t. Not yet.
    The kid still hesitated, and I glanced up. “Just do it, Luther. Quicker the better, okay?” He nodded, and then he did it. If I’d thought putting my nose back in place hurt, I’d been mistaken. That had been a bug bite in comparison.
    At least the boy was quick. Less than a minute later the bullet pinged into the sink, and he pressed another alcohol-laced gauze pad to my shoulder. I muttered curses until the bright shiny lights at the edge of my vision went away.
    Luther grabbed a roll of gauze, but I held up my hand. There was a better way.
    My mother’s initial death had given me life—only one phoenix at a time, born from the ashes of the last. But a combination of black and white magic had kept my mother in limbo—dead enough to give birth, with the promise of resurrection as Doomsday moved toward Armageddon. Because of that magic, her powers had remained with her, leaving me clueless as to my heritage.
    But now I was the Phoenix, among other things. While I should be able to become a firebird without benefit of the tattoo, old habits died hard, and though I was like my mother in many ways, I didn’t want to be like her at all.
    So I placed my palm against the tattoo at the back of my neck, and the change rolled over me like a winter wind, stealing my breath. Lightning flashed, so intense I closed my eyes. My body went cold and then hot. Bones realigned, feet became talons, arms spread into wings, and brightly colored feathers sprang from my skin. They tickled.
    When I opened my eyes, I was a phoenix. In this form I could fly. I could command fire, but I would not burn. I was sure I could do a lot more, but I’d only become one a few weeks ago. Right now I didn’t care about any of my talents beyond healing, and the shift itself took care of that. So only moments after I’d become a phoenix, I centered an image of myself in my mind and changed back.
    I was alone in the bathroom, naked since becoming a bird had allowed the clothes I’d still worn to fall to the floor. I snatched a towel then took a quick glance in the mirror at my bullet wound. If not for the blood, I’d never know it had been there at all.
    A flash from the other room had me sticking my head out just in time to see Luther snatch the sheet off his bed and cover himself. I pulled my head back in. “Nose okay?”
    “It is now.”
    I shut the door and took another shower, letting the water sluice over me until it ran clear. When I was done, Luther and I switched places.
    Faith-the-kitten was still crashed. I put on my idea of pajamas—shorts and a T-shirt. When Luther came out of the bathroom, he held the bullet in his hand.
    “Silver?” I asked.
    He nodded. “I can’t decide if they knew a lot or a