Free Phoenix Rising by Theo Fenraven Page B

whether it’s to life or death.” As casually as if he were fully dressed, he strolled toward the door, opened it, and departed, banging it shut behind him.

Chapter Two Artemis
Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.
—Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
     
H
E TRIED to escape, of course.
    He found his shoes under the bed, slipped them on, searched briefly for his gun without luck, and decided he could live without it if it meant getting away. Artemis’s cell said it was nearly 2:00 a.m., and he still had no signal. He turned it off to save power.
    The door opened without difficulty, and he found himself stepping out into a huge room, about a hundred feet by sixty, marble floors dotted with area rugs that looked Persian or, perhaps, considering where he was, they were made locally. In any case, they were ornate, thick, and looked expensive. On one side was a large, padded cube about three feet high, and behind that a wall of glass. Chairs and couches were scattered across the space. On the wall opposite him were other doors. Artemis got the idea that this room was the heart of the house, and the rest was built around it in a U shape.
    He paused, listening, and heard nothing. Walking on light feet, hardly making a sound, he moved out from under the overhang and glanced up in surprise. The ceiling was glass or Plexiglas or plastic; he glimpsed the moon, now almost hidden beneath thickening clouds, and an occasional star gleaming here and there.
    That had to have cost a small fortune, and the effect was amazing. He wanted to lie down on one of the couches, his head on a pillow, and simply gaze at the sky, but he had more important things on his mind, like getting back home. In the section directly opposite the glass wall was a foyer and what he assumed was the front door. He hurried to it, yanked it open impatiently, and stepped outside.
    Tents dotted the landscape, and people huddled around flickering fires. The sound of someone playing a guitar drifted to him on the light breeze, as did the smell of cooking food. Above his head, fluttering from a pole, a flag snapped in that same breeze. On it was a golden bird, wings spread against a black background.
    Before he could take even one step, a shadow detached itself from darker shadows near the wall, and Artemis saw a weapon being pointed at him. “Please to return inside,” a man said.
    Artemis briefly considered utilizing his police antipersonnel training to disarm and overpower the guard but finally judged the risk of danger to himself was too great. “I’m a prisoner here,then?”
    The man waved the rifle barrel at him. “Inside.” “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Artemis stepped back through the door and turned to
find Ammon staring at him with raised eyebrows. “You knew I’d try it.”
    He inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of that. “I shall accompany you to your room.”
They began walking. “Where’s Talis?”
“Resting. Phoenix has a full day tomorrow.”
“Right.” Artemis frowned. “More kidnap victims on the
    way, no doubt. Other soul mates to fuck with.”
“I understand your anger and frustration,” Ammon said,
“but it would be best if you accepted the situation, at least
for the next several weeks. You will not be harmed. He
wishes only that you get to know him.” They reached the
bedroom door and stopped. “He knew this could not happen
if you remained in New York.”
“He admitted to murdering those men.”
Ammon pushed the door open and stood aside so
Artemis might enter. “I am sure he did no such thing.” “He said he needed their essence to remain human.” “Each time he was given a soul, he mourned afterward
at the cost of acquiring it. It is against his nature to kill. You
do not yet fully understand.” Ammon gestured toward the
room. “Sleep, Detective. You are in no danger, and those you
care for back home know you are safe. Talis made sure of
that.”
    A
RTEMIS paced, walking from the bed to the door