Ashes of the Phoenix
By Jess Haines
3.5/5
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About this ebook
Legend says a phoenix will rise again—but all that remains of the immortal bird are ashes and whispered fairy tales...
Lyra Adams enjoys her job as a rare books dealer, but when an angry wizard barges into her store and demands she fork over a unique tome from the antiquities section, she's not about to let him get away with grand larceny without a fight.
Except it's suddenly very difficult to defend her wares, seeing as the wizard turned her into some kind of weird red bird by flinging a handful of ashes in her face.
Her only hope of returning to her normal, human self lies in the hands of the one man she never wanted to see again: her lying, stealing, sorcerous scumbag ex, James Pierce. The same light-fingered thief who tried to steal that very same tome from her a few days before.
She knows she can’t trust James with her heart or her inventory. Can she trust him to turn her back?
Jess Haines
Jess Haines, author of urban fantasy and paranormal romance, is a displaced New Yorker who writes about vampires, werewolves, and other bitey creatures of the night from her home in the Tampa area in Florida. She's best known for the H&W Investigations series (starting with HUNTED BY THE OTHERS).
Read more from Jess Haines
The Real Werewives of Vampire County Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Smoke and Mirrors Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
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Ashes of the Phoenix - Jess Haines
ASHES OF THE PHOENIX
Jess Haines
Table of Contents
Title Page
Ashes of the Phoenix (Rise of the Phoenix, #1)
ASHES OF THE PHOENIX
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
About the Author
Bibliography
Ashes of the Phoenix ©2017 by Jess Haines
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
ISBN: 978-0-9889728-3-4
Author ISNI: 0000 0001 2233 2442
Jess Haines ° PO Box 7634 ° Clearwater, FL 33758
www.JessHaines.com ° jh@jesshaines.com
ASHES OF THE PHOENIX
Legend says a phoenix will rise again—but all that remains of the immortal bird are ashes and whispered fairy tales...
Lyra Adams enjoys her job as a rare books dealer, but when an angry wizard barges into her store and demands she fork over a unique tome from the antiquities section, she's not about to let him get away with grand larceny without a fight.
Except it's suddenly very difficult to defend her wares, seeing as the wizard turned her into some kind of weird red bird by flinging a handful of ashes in her face.
Her only hope of returning to her normal, human self lies in the hands of the one man she never wanted to see again: her lying, stealing, sorcerous scumbag ex, James Pierce. The same light-fingered thief who tried to steal that very same tome from her a few days before.
She knows she can’t trust James with her heart or her inventory. Can she trust him to turn her back?
Chapter 1
Lyra was dusting the hardcovers in the Crime/Thriller section when the bell to the front door jingled. Absently brushing a few stray auburn wisps back under the bandanna she’d donned, she leaned back to peer around the shelf.
Can I help... oh, you again? Let me guess.
The man standing just inside the threshold of Tidal Tomes Book Store & More inclined his head, his usually blue eyes glittering with an inner fae light that bore an eerie resemblance to the dust motes drifting in the rays of sunlight pouring in through the storefront windows. He was in street clothes instead of initiate’s robes, but it didn’t take a fancy outfit to tell he was some flavor of mage. All three times he’d visited her shop, he’d never said anything about what discipline he followed, or even told her his name, and she hadn’t bothered asking. If he was going to be rude enough to flash his aura in her store and—worse—keep coming back without actually buying anything, she was sure he wasn’t anywhere near as good of a practitioner as he probably thought he was.
He strolled in, sauntering toward the counter to idly flick through the rotating collection of bookmarks on their spinning wheel. Just one more look, I promise. If this is really the tome I’ve been looking for, you’ll be paid well for it.
Lyra tucked the duster under her arm and made her way behind the counter. The mage might have been cute if he wasn’t trying so hard to pull off the whole master-of-time-and-space shtick. He had the right clothes, obviously fitted to his toned frame, his ashy blond hair had the right cut, and he smelled like some kind of expensive, musky aftershave, but the oppressive force of his aura, cruel twist to his lips, and calculating gleam in his eyes made it easy to see past the façade.
She stuck out the duster to halt the incessant squeaking of the wheel and hooked her rolling chair with a foot to pull it close and settle down. Leaning back, she propped her feet on the counter.
Now, I’d love to help you with that, but I’m afraid you’ve used all your frequent flyer miles. No.
He pulled back, frowning. Excuse me?
I’m sure you heard me. Nope, no more free passes. You’ve already had a shot at it longer than most. It’s one thing to skim through the latest Harry Potter or Fifty Shades of whatever while you’re browsing. It’s quite another to read through one of those spellbooks. This isn’t a library, it’s a book store. I can’t pay the rent with IOUs. If you want to give me a major credit card, cash, or an equivalent exchange in precious metals, jewels, et cetera, I’ll give you the book. Gift wrapped and everything. With all the trouble it’s been giving me, I might even throw in a thank you card.
The mage straightened, looking down his nose through narrowed eyes. As I said, I need to be sure it’s the right book first. I only need to check a few more things—
Lyra slapped her hand on the countertop, making the bell in the old fashioned register jingle. How many times must I say it? No, the book is not available for any more viewings, and if you ask me again, it’s not for sale either.
To his credit, the mage didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, his expression giving the impression he had just bit into something rotten. The light scent of ozone became stronger with his agitation, the crackle of magic mixing with the heavy musk of his aftershave in a way that Lyra found nauseating. She gave no hint of her discomfort, staring him down.
After a brief hesitation, he broke the stare down first, gaze sliding away as he withdrew a thin wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He tugged out one of the credit cards and snapped the plastic on the countertop, making it clack against the polished wood.
With a terse nod, she rose, glancing at the card. Thank you, Mr. Martin. Give me a moment, I’ll go get it and then ring you up. Wait here.
He smiled in a way she didn’t like, the flash of teeth too predatory to be called polite. Oh, call me Edward, Lyra. I insist.
His use of her name didn’t phase her, even though she’d never given it to him. She was well known enough in the magical community that his attempt at pretending to know something about her she’d never told him to put her off balance didn’t work the way he intended. She just rolled her eyes and nodded once more, ignoring his moue of disappointment at her lack of reaction. All right, Edward. Wait here.
She made her way to the back of the store, breathing easier as she put more distance between them.
At the end of the rows of bookshelves, between the bathrooms and the door hiding the stairwell leading to the upstairs apartment, was what had originally been the stock room. The rarest, most valuable tomes were kept there under lock, key, and ward to prevent intruders. While she’d often considered that she’d been taken for a ride by the shady rune salesman who had handled setting up her security features on the property, she’d found the wards surprisingly effective at keeping out prying eyes, sticky fingers, and nosy exes.
It had been less than a week since said nosy ex had attempted to steal the same book that Edward was after. If Lyra had a magical bone in her body, she might have been more curious about it. As it was, a mortal did not last long in the business of procuring and selling magical artifacts without a hefty sense of self-preservation. That included an innate