Free Phoenix Rising by Theo Fenraven

clearly. “I am the Phoenix.”
“What, the mythological bird born of fire?” Artemis laughed harshly. “I must still be drugged. You’re a hallucination.”
“I am real.”
“But… you talk.”
“So do parrots, and like them, I live a long life.”
Artemis wrapped his arms around drawn-up knees. “How long?”
“One thousand years.”
“That’s a hell of a long time.” He frowned. “And then what? You die and are reborn?” He didn’t remember the story of the phoenix well.
“And then… I die. Whether or not I am reborn depends on you.”
It was amazing to see a beak enunciating so well. “Me? I’m just a cop. I’m nothing special.”
“But you are special, to me.” The Phoenix moved, stepping from the chair to the bed. Artemis shrank back, but it only fluffed its feathers before settling over its folded legs once more. “Do you know who your parents were?”
The question was unexpected and annoying. “My parents were Jan and Thomas Gregory.”
“Your real parents were Darius Massri and Masika Ayoubi. They were Egyptian, and unmarried. When Masika became pregnant, she did not tell Darius. Instead, she told her parents and was sent to the States to stay with her mother’s aunt, who lived in Michigan with her American husband. The child was duly born and put up for adoption. Masika returned to Egypt. She lives there even now, married and with two grown children.” The Phoenix’s crest rose and then fell. “In your blood runs that of the ancient pharaohs.”
Artemis pursed his lips. It was anticlimactic, hearing who they were after all these years of assiduously avoiding the knowledge. “Well, whoop-de-doo. That and a buck will get me a cheap cup of coffee.” His thigh muscles were starting to scream, so he sat flat on his ass, keeping his knees up but sliding his legs forward a few inches for relief. He became aware of a light, pleasant scent and realized it was coming from Phoenix.
“The pharaohs created me,” Phoenix said solemnly, tilting his head the other way. “They brought me to life and imbued me with magic and power. Show some respect.”
“You mean like the kind you showed me when you drugged and transported me around the world to a country I’ve never been to before?”
Apparently a Phoenix could smile. It wasn’t accomplished in the usual way, but by lifting certain muscles beside the beak, a genial expression was relayed. It was odd as hell. “I apologize, but I’m rather short on time and there was no other way to accomplish what needs doing before it runs out.”
“And what might that be?” Artemis was surprised at how quickly he’d accepted talking to a bird, albeit one as big as himself who spoke perfect English. Maybe humans really weren’t as far removed from mythology and magic as they liked to think.
Ammon chose that moment to enter the room, pushing a cart in front of him loaded with food and drink. He barely gave Phoenix a glance as he rolled it up next to the bed and straightened, linking his hands behind his back.
“You will be in need of sustenance,” the PA said.
Artemis realized Ammon was right. The ache in his gut was due to hunger. “I hope there’s liquor on that cart.”
Ammon handed him a green bottle labeled “Stella.” “Egyptian beer. Also available is a bottle of Omar Khayyam, a dry wine served at room temperature.”
“If you guys are so fond of everything Egyptian, why aren’t we there instead of in Nepal?” Artemis popped the top off the beer and slugged down a few healthy swallows. The resulting throat burn was welcome, and it hit his stomach just right.
The Phoenix spoke. “I have a home in Luxor, but I thought it would be quieter here. Also, while it is warm in Kathmandu, it is very hot in Egypt. I was thinking of your comfort, Artemis.”
“Um.” Artemis crab-walked over to the cart, picked up a plate, and helped himself to what looked like a meat pie. His taste buds exploded in ecstasy at the first bite. Clearly, being