The Last Phoenix Page 18

  “Little brother stuff, huh?” Colette gave her a sympathetic look. “Okay, see you tomorrow then.”

  “See you!” Jess called, waving as they walked off.

  “Little brother stuff?” Michael frowned as he watched them go. “Even so, I wish I had mates like that,” he admitted. “Well, you know, mates like that but more manly and cool.”

  “You have mates,” Jess told him. “So what if they’re friends with Rick the Slick too?”

  “I just can’t be one of Rick’s hangers-on. I can’t.” Michael shrugged. “Anyway, you’d better go home and meet Milly, she’ll be wondering where you are. I told Jason to wait for me at the bottom of Flint Street so we could go through what we say to ourselves on the way to Milton’s.”

  “Well, take care,” said Jess. “We never did find out about that weird bloke watching us.”

  Michael shrugged. “And we probably never will.”

  “Hey, Michael!”

  For an improbable second, Michael thought it was that very same mystery man calling his name. Then he realized it was actually Rick the Slick of all people, appearing from behind the bike sheds. No cause for alarm, but definitely cause for a quick getaway. “I’m off,” he muttered to Jess. “Laters.”

  She waved briefly as he hurried away down the school driveway.

  Michael threaded a path across Moreways Meet more or less on autopilot, lost in his own thoughts, until he saw Jason at the bottom of Flint Street, slumped against the signpost with a face as long as the walk ahead to Milton’s.

  “All right?” said Michael.

  Jason looked up and mustered a smile. “Suppose.” Then the smile dropped and his eyes widened as he seemed to look past Michael. “Oh, no.”

  Michael turned around—and a chill of fear went through him.

  Just a few meters away stood the man with the scruffy hair and the glowering face. The man who’d watched him in the junk shop, and who’d been turning up ever since. The man Michael had decided they would never see again. Me and my big mouth, he thought.

  The man said nothing, just went on watching with beady eyes. Michael checked behind him for other people in the street. Typically, no one was about. It was just him, Jason, and this sinister stranger.

  “Who are you?” Michael demanded. “Where are you from?”

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” the man said, in a nasal, whiny sort of voice. “I want to do a deal.”

  Jason gulped. “Are you…magic?”

  “Magic?” The man snorted. “What’re you on about?” He stabbed a finger at Michael. “I saw him try to palm off some gold on the geezer in the junk shop. Sounded pretty desperate. And if the junk shop doesn’t want it, well…maybe I can help you out.”

  Michael almost laughed out loud. He turned to Jason, who was looking totally startled. “All this time we thought we were being watched by some evil, all-seeing genie or something, and it’s just some dodgy old geezer!”

  The man smiled, showing teeth undoubtedly as crooked as the rest of him. “Just show me that gold, son.”

  “I’ve changed my mind about the gold, ‘Dad,’” said Michael coldly. “It’s not for sale.”

  The man’s smile dropped. “I don’t think you heard me,” he said quietly, taking a step closer to Michael and Jason. “We’re going to make a deal. And I’m setting the terms.”

  Michael felt a sudden wave of fury. “Look, mate, this is not a good time to start threatening me and my brother, okay? Not after what we’ve been going through. So, push off. Leave us alone, or we’ll…” He frowned, flummoxed, and looked at Jason again. “What’ll we do?”

  “We’ll…” Jason shrugged, flustered. “We’ll tell our mum and dad?”

  The man seemed unimpressed. “Look, I don’t like picking on kids,” he went on in a reasonable voice, “but I want that gold. And it can’t really be yours—you just wanna get rid of it, don’t you?” He came closer. “If you won’t sell it, maybe I’ll just take it…”

  “Take this!” yelled Jason suddenly. He hurled himself at the man, bringing him down in a perfectly timed rugby tackle. The man gave a startled gasp of surprise as he crashed to the ground.

  “Nice one, Jase!” Michael cried. “You haven’t even got your powers anymore!”

  “I know!” Jason said, beaming with joy—for all of a single microsecond before the man grabbed hold of his wrist. Jason tried to scramble clear, but couldn’t. Michael waded in and tried to wrestle Jason free, but the man grabbed his arm, clamping down hard on the skin. Michael gasped, tore himself free, and managed to yank Jason away from the man too. Swearing, the man shambled back to his feet and was about to charge after Michael and Jason—

  When suddenly a young fresh-faced policeman sprinted from around the junction and grabbed hold of the dodgy man. “All right, that’s enough,” he shouted. “Picking a fight with little kids? You should be ashamed!”

  Michael’s relief was such that he was prepared to let the “little kids” reference go.

  “These kids have nicked some gold,” the scruffy man whined. “I was only trying to get it back off them.”

  “We haven’t stolen anything,” Jason said hotly.

  “Right!” Michael agreed. He turned out his pockets—knowing the phoenix gold was back at home—and Jason quickly did the same. “Nothing!”

  “He just started threatening us!” Jason went on.

  “I know,” said the policeman, “this young man told me.” He turned and beckoned to someone behind him—and Michael gaped in amazement.

  “Rick?” he spluttered.

  Rick shrugged, a little awkwardly. “I wanted to talk to you back at school, but you didn’t hear me so I went after you. And I saw that bloke was following you too—so when I noticed the policeman, well…”

  “He asked me to check things out.” The young constable grinned happily at the sullen, scruffy man in his grip. “And thank God he did! I recognize this bloke from the station files in Quilborough. Petty crook. Wanted for fencing stolen property but jumped bail.”

  “Is there a reward for catching him?” said Michael eagerly.

  The cop smiled. “A free tour of the police station when you come to make a statement,” he said, straight-faced. “Meantime, I’ll need your names and addresses….”

  Jason reeled off the details while Michael eyed his watch. “We’re in a bit of rush, officer. Got an urgent appointment and time’s running out. Can we, um, come by later?”

  “Should be fine,” the policeman agreed happily, turning to the scruffy, scowling man. “My first arrest! Come on, then, there’s a lot of people who want to talk to you…”

  Michael breathed a sigh of relief as the cop bundled the crook away, and looked at Rick. “Thanks,” he said grudgingly.

  “Anytime,” said Rick. “I mean, I know you two could have taken care of that bloke yourselves, but…” He shrugged. “I was very impressed with the way you gave him lip, Michael. Cool. No wonder the other lads look up to you so much.”

  “Huh?” Michael stared. “They do?”

  “Josh, Thomas, Sam, they’re always going on about you.” Rick grinned. “It’s why I wanted to be one of your gang in the first place.”

  “My gang?” Michael stared in wonder.

  He shrugged. “Who else’s?”

  Michael raised his eyebrows. “You know, Rick, you’re not as dumb as Jason looks.”

  Rick grinned—then turned to Jason. “Fair play, though—I saw your tackle, it was wicked. No wonder you took out your brother the other night.”

  “Oh, we…we were just mucking about,” said Jason. With sudden inspiration, he went on: “I, um, bet Michael a week of his chores that he couldn’t trick you.”

  “Yeah?” Rick laughed. “Then I can see why you gave it a go, Mikey. Sneaky stepbruv you have there.” He looked at Jason again. “You know, I heard how you caused a rumpus in the junior soccer tournament. And now I’ve seen that tackle, I’m wondering how you’d make out in rugby.”
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  “Rugby?” Jason repeated in a daze.

  “Yeah, you’ve obviously got some natural talent. I could help you—train you up a bit. I’m trying to get a team together for games down at the park on Saturday afternoons.” Rick shrugged. “You should try out for us if you want.”

  “Me!” Jason nodded so hard he nearly bruised his chin on his chest. “Oh, wow! Yes, I do want!”

  “Be cool, Jase,” Michael hissed. “Well, Rick—thanks for the assist, mate, but like we told the cop, we’ve got to split for now. Catch you tomorrow, yeah?”

  “Tomorrow, right.” Rick shook his head, admiringly. “I can’t believe you’re being so cool about that creep attacking you. Excellent. See ya!”

  Michael knocked knuckles with him, then strode away down the street with Jason in tow. “That, he can’t believe,” he muttered. “If we could only tell him that after all we’ve been through in the last few days, that scrawny old fence means next to nothing!”

  “That’s magic for you,” Jason murmured. “And I think it must be magic that made Rick want me to be on his rugby team.”

  “Nah,” Michael told him, clapping him hard on the back as they walked on together. “That was just you.”

  Milly sat alone at home, brooding. But for all her sadness, there was some niggling distraction at the back of her head, a feeling that she was missing something.

  Suddenly, it leaped into her head.

  Way back—before we went into the future—Fenella said we couldn’t go forward past her next rebirth. Now we know she wasn’t reborn…but we still went forward into today.

  Milly gasped and jumped up. “How could we have done that if Fenella’s really dead?” Then her heart sank again. I suppose the future’s been changed, she thought. Skribble said it could be…

  The thoughts kept chasing themselves around her head. And though she was supposed to wait for Jess to come and collect her, she decided she just had to talk to Skribble about things ahead of her audition. She wrote a quick note to Jess and hurried out the door.

  Auditions, she thought as she strode away. Ha! An image of her sobbing on Jess’s shoulder flashed back into her mind. What was the point in even trying to perform? She knew she didn’t get the part. But then she had to go, didn’t she? If she didn’t, the future would be wrong…like it already was. Unless somehow, Fenella was still alive…

  Oh, it was all so confusing. She broke into a run.

  When she reached the workshop, Skribble was floating around on his pink cloud just above the kiln. He was peering down at the blackened egg in the nest, a thoughtful expression on his face. He jumped as the door burst open. “Ah. It’s you, Milly.”

  “Hi, Skribble.” As Milly looked at the egg still lying there surrounded by Fenella’s ashes, a wave of intense sadness crashed over her. Her hopes quickly crumbled. The phoenix really had gone. She’d never see her again. “I really miss Fenella,” she whispered.

  “Mmm.” Skribble frowned and then cleared his throat. “Where are the others? Are they coming?”

  “They’ll be here soon, I’m sure. I came on ahead because I wanted to talk to you.” The words suddenly burst out of Milly. “Oh, Skribble! I don’t want to go to the auditions! It’s going to be awful. I know I’m going to fail and not get the part.”

  “Milly, Milly,” said Skribble shaking his head. “Have your adventures with magic really taught you nothing? Surely you know that we can always fashion our own fate.”

  “But I saw what will happen, Skribble,” Milly protested. “Although I don’t know how, because I thought we couldn’t use Fenella’s feather to travel forward to a time after she…you know.” Then she noticed the golden feather Mr. Milton had used was lying beside the kiln. “Oh,” she sighed. “Maybe it happened because that’s still here.”

  “Hmm?” Skribble looked over. “Ah, yes. That feather was not consumed in the flames of rebirth, so in magical terms at least it would count as a little of her loveliness still remaining.” He paused. “Although, on the other hand…”

  Milly’s heart thumped harder as she caught a sudden twinkle in his eye. “Skribble?”

  “Traveling into the future is an unpredictable business, my girl. The truth of things can often be deceptive. Very deceptive indeed.” His eyes swiveled around to the egg and a smile creased his face. “For instance…”

  Milly followed his gaze and gasped. Strands of smoke had appeared from nowhere, wreathing around the golden egg and the ash.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  “I dared to hope…” Skribble scowled and shook his head. “No, I dared to believe that—”

  The egg rumbled and shook.

  “Back, Milly!” the bookworm genie commanded. “Get back from the nest!” He zoomed to the far side of the workshop on his cloud.

  Milly ran after him. “What’s going on?”

  “The egg’s about to hatch!” declared Skribble.

  “Hatch!” Milly echoed in astonishment. “But…but how? Why?”

  Skribble gave no answer as the egg began to grow. Smoke curled around the shell, growing thicker and thicker.

  “Come on,” breathed Skribble. “You can do it, my dear! Of course you can!”

  Suddenly, the whole nest seemed to explode in flames. A curtain of fire whooshed upward to the ceiling. Milly gasped and shrank back, putting her hands up to shield herself from the burning heat.

  CRACK!

  The loud, splitting noise ripped through the air—followed by a joyful whooping cry. The next second, a golden bird had shot out of the top of the flames, turning a somersault in the air, the tip of every golden feather ablaze.

  “Fenella!” cried Milly. But this wasn’t the Fenella she had last seen. This was a new, slim, and slinky Fenella! Her feathers were long, lustrous, and golden. Her blue eyes danced and shimmered like the clearest, deepest seas. But when the phoenix spoke, there was no mistaking her.

  “Milly, love! I’m back! Ooooh, look at your shocked little duckling face. Did you imagine I was gone forever? Not me!” The phoenix whizzed in a mad circle around the workshop. “You can’t keep a good bird down! So how are my hips? Do they look big with these new feathers? Oooh, where’s a mirror, where’s…Hey, look!” she shrieked, spotting the worm on his cloud next to Milly. “There’s Skribble! Why…” Her voice got flirtatious as she landed on the window ledge next to his cloud and jutted out her head on one side. “Hello there, you goooorgeous little worm!” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

  Skribble looked flustered. “Um…good day to you too, Fenella. You are to be congratulated on a feat of quite startling endurance.”

  Fenella gave him a playful little nudge with her beak. “Waiting up for me, were you? You wicked little devil! Oooh, yes, I know your sort!”

  Milly’s heart felt close to bursting. “But Fenella,” she said, “we thought you’d died!”

  “Not me, duckling!” She chuckled. “The rebirth from the ashes just took a little longer this time, that’s all. It was the chicks! They must have soaked up some of my magic, greedy little beggars, delayed my coming back!”

  “Chicks?” Milly repeated, not sure if she’d heard right.

  Fenella flew to the nest. The flames were slowly dying down. She fanned away the smoke with her wings. “Just look at them!” she cried. “A clutch of four! Did you ever hear of such a thing in all your born days!”

  “Oh, wow…” Milly stared. As the smoke cleared she saw that there, in the nest, sat four small round phoenixes surrounded by the last few flickering flames! Their feathers were fluffy and their blue eyes were huge.

  “Two girls, two boys!” Fenella said proudly, nuzzling the nearest chick with her beak.

  “But…” Milly turned to Skribble. “How?”

  “Oh, yes, Skribble, lovie!” Fenella looked at him expectantly. “Explain, please, do.”

  “Ah yes, well…hmm…” Skribble began. “Well, it’s my belief that although the gathered ingredients were not actually needed for th
e hatching, they all contained magic. Given that they surrounded the egg—and that four somewhat magical children were feeding energy into it as well—the magic potential of the egg was actually increased. The energies of rebirth lingered on, and instead of one chick, four appeared. Four with rather different qualities, it would appear!”

  Following his gaze, Milly realized that one of the chicks was turning rapid somersaults, another was trilling a beautiful song, the third was preening its incredibly beautiful golden feathers, and the fourth was simply looking around with a very wise expression and nodding as if agreeing with a voice in its little head.

  “Then we might have helped?” Milly squealed. “Really?”

  “I’m sure of it!” Fenella smiled happily. “Oh, Skribble, is there anyone alive more clever than you?”

  Milly saw Skribble’s mouth begin to twitch into a smile. But then he coughed and hastily reassumed his usual grumpy expression.

  The chicks began to cheep and open their mouths. “Listen to the little dears,” Fenella clucked. “I’d better start looking for some grub for them.” She glanced around. “Where are the others then, Milly, lovie?” She looked suddenly worried. “I hope nothing’s happened to them. They are okay, aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” Milly said quickly. “They’ll be here soon. I just came on ahead because I wanted to talk to Skribble.” She remembered about the auditions and glanced at her watch. “Oh, no! The auditions will be about to start. What should I do, Skribble?”

  “Go, Milly. The future is not to be feared but to be faced. Remember the words on my map—know yourself, trust yourself, believe in yourself.” He glanced at Fenella and the chicks. “And believe in magic! Sometimes the most miraculous things happen when we least expect it.”

  “Too right, lovie. It’s never too late for a comeback!” Fenella fluttered over. “You know what the ancients of Mount Quamquangle used to say—‘every day we must forget what we know and learn it afresh.’ And I know what they mean—just look at me with four scrumptious chicks. Who’d ever have thought it?” She laughed. “No one really knows what the future holds. How boring would it be if you did? Just go into that audition room and do your best. Whatever happens, if you do that, you’ll be able to hold your head up high.”