*** Special Feature - November 2015 ***
About the Book
Fifteen-year-old Sara walks into the San Francisco Center for the Circus Arts determined to ignore the freaky things happening to her. As powers she doesn't want and can't control overwhelm her, Sara must decide if she can trust the strangers who say they are her family ... descended from a common ancestor four thousand years ago.
Sara clings to her contented and well-planned life as a foster kid, successfully working the system, as dreams, powers, and magical creatures drag her towards her destiny.
When the ancient evil that killed her parents comes to San Francisco, Sara is forced to choose between her fears and her desire to protect those she loves.
Sometimes great things are thrust upon us. Sara wishes this supposed 'greatness' didn't include a new name, unicorns, and catching on fire.
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Phoenix Child - Excerpt
Phoenix Child - Excerpt
Chapter One
"Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of
the phoenix."
~Christina Baldwin
Alien
abduction? Extreme makeover? Witch's spell?
Something
had to explain the changes that happened to me overnight. Even the doctor
Melanie dragged me to offered no explanation, but apparently, I’m in perfect
health. I barely managed to stop myself from demanding to see his medical
license. How can it be possible to wake up looking completely different and
still be in perfect health? I looked down at the coppery tint that appeared
this morning on my skin. Stupid doctor.
Thick
fog covered the brightly painted row houses, making them look dull and plain. Only
the Christmas lights came close to cutting through the cold gray blanket. I
leaned back into the seat of my houseparent's Honda as I took in the familiar
beauty of the city.
"Sara,
we'll figure this all out, don't worry," Melanie said as she drove down
one of San Francisco's seven hills. My stomach did a little flip as we crested
the top. One would think after driving over these streets all of my life I
would have become numb to them, but they still made my stomach flutter.
"With
all the tests the doctor ordered, he'd better figure something out." The
nurse had trouble finding a vein for the lab draws, and a bruise had formed in
the bend in my elbow. Rubbing my temples, I pushed back the headache and tears.
This morning had been hell.
My
fingers twitched in shock as they touched the soft curls resting on my
forehead. I tugged my bangs down and tried to hide my eyes, which had also
changed. Instead of the dull gray-green I’d grown-up with, now they were a
clear pale green with flecks of gold. My first day as a fifteen-year-old and
already the drama level had reached insane.
I
ran my hands over the bandana covering my hair. Until I knew what had happened
to me, I wanted to keep the flame-red streaks that highlighted my midnight
curls hidden. I didn't recognize myself, and didn't like being so out of
control. If I couldn't control my hair color, I could at least control who saw
it. Maybe it’s childish, but hey, I’m only fifteen, no one expects me to make
good choices yet.
Melanie
flipped through her CDs, her eyes darting between bright jacket covers and the
foggy road. I adore Melanie, she’s a great houseparent, but every time I get
into her car, it’s a near-death experience. "I'm going to have to file an
incident report with your caseworker. Between the fever last night and the
changes this morning, he needs to know what's going on."
"I'm
fine. The report will make Five worry." I crossed my arms and scattered a
pile of half empty water bottles as I stretched out my legs.
"I
know, but these are the rules," Melanie said, her voice soft and even. I
called it her 'calm houseparent' voice. She uses it to try to keep us kids from
losing our tempers. I hated having it used on me. "And your caseworker's
name is David. It's rude to call him Five."
I
rolled my eyes and chose not to say anything.
"Are
you sure you want to go to camp? Maybe you should rest today," Melanie
said.
"I'm sure. If I
sit at home, I'll worry." I shifted so I could see the clock. Damn.
"I'm going to be so late."
"It'll
be fine. I bet they haven't started anything important yet. The first day
always starts with introductions and rules anyway."
I
sat back. There wasn't anything I could do about it now, and Melanie would get
irritated if I kept complaining. She’s in charge; it’s best to keep her happy.
I
could feel how close we were to the school before I could see it. The itching
need to get in that building intensified. My fingers and toes twitched and
every cell in my body vibrated with nervous excitement. I sat on the edge of my
seat and stared out the windshield, my breath catching as the bright,
multi-colored swirls on the outside of the converted warehouse came into view.
I’d
first seen the San Francisco Center for the Circus Arts months ago when Melanie
and I stopped at the cafe across the street. Instantly I wanted—no, needed—to
go there. I felt like the building called me, invading my dreams and my
thoughts. It took six months and a rather crafty plan, but I made it. I hoped
whatever part of my brain latched onto this place would feel happy now that I
was finally attending classes here.
"Here
we are, come on," Melanie said, yanking me out of my obsessive thoughts.
Melanie
has the best parking karma of anyone I know. She always finds a parking space
in front of whatever building she’s going to, and in San Francisco that is a
miracle.
I
ran my fingers over the school's huge front window, the need to go inside as
physical as if a rope were around my waist pulling me. A flash of red caught my
eye. In the window hung a red crystal bird with a long tail. It flashed again,
like it was winking at me.
When
we entered the building warm air surrounded us, carrying the smells of floor
wax, sweat, and incense, and the happy sounds of Celtic music. The converted
warehouse looked like a huge dance studio with its scuffed wooden floor and
wall of mirrors. The ropes, trapezes, hoops, and fabrics secured to the
two-story high ceiling, and other circus equipment around the room let me know
I’d have a lot more fun than in some stuffy dance class.
I
glared at Melanie as we walked to the tall front desk. Divided into groups, the
other campers were already learning circus arts. She ignored me and looked over
the fliers and brochures scattered over the counter.
"Why
don't you put your stuff away?" Melanie pointed to the wall of brightly
painted cubbies. Maybe my staring bothered her. I strengthened my glare before
doing as she asked.
I
tucked my stuff away, and checked out the class closest to me. Their feet were
bare. I took off my shoes and socks. I made it inside the stupid building, so
when would this itching need stop? My fingers twitched in sympathy; they didn't
like this either.
"The
teacher over there has hair like yours," Melanie said softly, when I came
back.
Following
her glance, I saw a teenage boy teaching one of the classes. My instincts
screamed ‘run’ when I saw his tight black curls that looked to be studded with
rubies. The draw to come here, could it be some implanted beacon from a
government experiment our parents had been a part of? Or perhaps we were
alien/human hybrids and the mother ship called out to us to take us home. Or
were we mutants drawn to this school by a psychic call from a group of
superheroes? Or maybe I should stop reading things recommended to me by geeky
staff?
I
tried not to stare at him; however, my eyes kept being drawn back to the tall
ebony boy with hair so close to mine in color. Looking over the rest of the
students I didn't see anyone else with hair like ours. There were several
Mohawks, a few people with dreadlocks, a girl with orange spiky hair, and one
boy with black- and blue-streaked bangs. Maybe this wasn't some great
conspiracy. Maybe he'd dyed his hair that color and this was nothing more than
a freaky coincidence.
"Sorry
for the wait, I'm Philip. How can I help you?"
Philip
looked young at first. He wore sweats, cut off at his knees, and a faded David
Bowie concert tee shirt. His ears were decorated with silver hoops. Only his
three-inch salt and pepper Mohawk that curved between the sides of his shaved
head, caused me to wonder at his age.
"No
worries, this is Sara Fokine, she's here for the winter camp," Melanie
said.
"Great,
I have a few things for you to sign." Philip walked behind the high
counter and handed Melanie some papers and a pen. Melanie scooted down to find
an empty spot on the cluttered counter and began to read the papers.
Ignoring
the mess, Philip crossed his arms on the counter, his eyes sparkling. Why did
he look so happy? Part of me wanted to smile back, another part wanted to know
what he was up to.
"Are
you having a good birthday, Sara?" he asked.
"How
did you know it's my birthday?" The itching need faded as he spoke, and a
sense of safety and calm moved through me. I didn't trust it, or him. Could he
be the government agent or alien in disguise? I stepped away.
He
tilted his head toward Melanie. "The paperwork."
"Of
course. Um...it's been different. I went to the doctor." Why would I tell
him this? I never gave away personal information. I narrowed my eyes, as if
that would help me find out the truth.
"Well
turning fifteen can be challenging. I'm sure your mom wanted to take care of
you."
I
didn't bother to correct Philip. I didn’t correct people when they mistook
Melanie for my mom, or (her preference) my older sister. Most people didn't
know about houseparents, which meant I needed to explain that I belong to the
state. That got looks of pity or suspicion. I found it easier to keep my mouth
shut.
I
needed to get the conversation off me. "Nice tattoo." I pointed to
the faded picture of a mermaid sitting on an anchor. I could barely see it
through the coat of white hair covering his arm.
Philip
shook his head, a sheepish smile on his face. "I can't believe you can see
it. That's a mark from another life, one full of adventure, danger, stupidity,
and a scary lack of both condoms and common sense."
I
slapped my hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh out loud, my face heating
up. I thought Philip was an interesting person, even if he wasn't an alien here
to take me back to the home planet.
"Excuse
me?" Melanie handed back the papers, her eyes narrowed to the 'mom’ look.
"Sorry,
I need to edit better." He looked over the papers. "She's all
set."
"Thanks,
I'll see you at four?" Melanie searched around the counter top.
I
handed her the set of keys she searched for. "Yes."
"Cool,
I'll see you later. Call me if you need anything,” Melanie said as she walked
away.
Melanie's
leaving never bothered me before, but today I wanted to call her back, to ask
to go with her, or to beg her to stay with me. My voice stuck in my throat as
the door closed.
"Come
on, the group I'm working with could use one more person. This morning I'm
teaching juggling." Philip held out a cloth ball.
I
turned away from the door and took the ball. It squished a little between my
fingers, like it was filled with sand.
Philip
explained the basics of juggling. His calm, steady voice made me feel like I
could learn to juggle easily.
"So
once you can toss one beanbag back and forth without moving your hands to catch
it, try it with two." Philip easily tossed them between his hands.
It
didn't look too hard. I ignored Philip as he watched me toss the beanbag from
my right hand to my left hand and back to my right. I moved my right hand in
order to catch the beanbag; I normally don't throw things with my left hand. It
felt awkward but not impossible.
"Good
job. Try and look up when you toss them, it will help later on when you have
three or more in the air. If you need any help, call for me or Shin."
Philip nodded towards a muscular, stocky boy with black hair cut short, except
for his blue-streaked bangs, which fell to his chin.
It
took all my concentration to keep two beanbags in the air. One by one, all of
the worries and wondering were pushed away, and my mind focused on juggling. My
body relaxed as the pressure faded away.
Light
reflected in the mirror, blinding me.
"You
need to remember..." Philip's voice faded, and I heard an unfamiliar woman
speaking in his place.
"You'll
remember..." Images flashed in my mind.
Holding my mom's hand,
running down a street, seeing a red bird in the window winking at us.
Inside the torn-up
building, wood and paint cans everywhere.
My mom on her hands and
knees in the bathroom, reaching into the wall, hiding something.
The sun sets behind
her, I can't see her face. Her lips touch my forehead as she whispers
something. It sounds like a song. When she's done, fire dances in her eyes.
"You'll remember
when it's time," my mom says. "It will get dark soon, and the bad men
will come. You need to go into the police station across the street. Give the
nice officer this letter, and they will take care of you for me."
"I'm scared. I
want to stay with you." Hot tears fall down my cheek.
"I can't let the
bad men get you. I can't. You're my Jewel. I must protect you." Arms wrap
around me hugging me tight. I breathe in the soft scent of flowers.
"You'll come back
for me, right, Mommy?"
"They're close,
baby. I have to go. I need you to be brave, and remember I will love you
forever."
"Sara.
Sara, are you okay?" Philip shook my shoulder.
"Sorry...I...I
need a drink of water." I wrapped my arms around myself trying to hide the
trembling. What the hell just happened?
"Are
you all right?" Philip frowned looking me over to make sure I’m okay.
"I'm
a bit dizzy, maybe something left over from the fever last night?" That
made sense; it had been a bad fever. Maybe the vision came from my dream last
night. At least I hoped so, but my gut told me something important just
happened.
"Okay,
go get a drink. If you need anything, I’m here." Philip stepped back, his
frown still there.
"Thanks,
I'll be right back." I reached up to rub my forehead where I could still
feel my mother's lips. The spot felt warm, not body heat warm, but sitting in
the sun warm.
Sitting
down on a bench against the window I took a long drink of water. I didn't need
any more weirdness. Wasn't there a limit, like a law of physics or something
that maxed out how much weird crap can happen to you in one day?
A
spark made me turn. Above me the red crystal bird spun in the window. Gripping
my bottle so tight my fingers ached, flashes from my dream or memory lay over
the room. Was this the same building? Had I been here before with my mom? I
never dreamed about my mom, not that clearly. The memory of what she looked
like and the sound of her voice had faded long ago. For all I knew I made the
whole thing up. Maybe it was some post-fever-induced daydream.
Putting
my water away, I went back to class. Crazy, fever-induced visions were not
going to have me searching the bathroom walls. I picked up the beanbags and
began tossing them again, trying but failing to find that peace and focus from
before.
Staying
to the back of the class, I watched the next teacher, Kayin Mangwiro. His voice
sounded warm and rich with an African accent. Kayin went over a bunch of
information about jumping on a trampoline safely. Even though I learned about
the trampoline, I learned nothing that would give me a clue as to why his hair
was black and red like mine.
When
my turn came, Kayin helped me up onto the springy surface of the trampoline. My
stomach flipped, and I barely suppressed the urge to wave my arms around as I
fell back down. Bending my knees I tried to keep my balance, but took off
towards the side of the trampoline. This was much harder than it looked.
"Try
to keep in the middle," Kayin said, making sure I didn't fall off.
"Okay."
I felt I did pretty well for my first time on a trampoline. When Kayin bounced,
he controlled his movements. I felt lucky I hadn't fallen on my face.
"Time
to switch." Kayin held out a dark hand to help me down.
"Thanks,"
I said, my breath coming in gasps. He nodded and went to help the next kid up.
Kayin
seemed nice and answered questions when asked, but he wasn't playful like
Philip. I twisted the hem of my shirt trying to get up the courage to ask about
his hair. My new hair color made me look like a child dressing up for
Halloween. Kayin's made him look like an African prince. His proud posture,
wide flat nose, and high cheekbones looked elegant with the small ruby curls
scattered among the ebony black ones.
Waiting
for my second turn, I held my breath as Kayin stood next to me. How could he
stand so still and with such perfect posture? I shifted from one foot to
another and tugged on the sleeve of my shirt, smoothing out the embroidered
silver dragon.
"I
like your hair," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. Hoping he
heard me and hadn't heard me at the same time. Hey, I'm a teenager; I'm allowed
to feel conflicted.
"Thank
you. I woke up like this on the morning of my fifteenth birthday. It's a
shocking thing, to change so suddenly, isn't it?" Kayin's gaze held mine.
After a moment I felt warmth fill me and I knew. Kayin was like me. Whatever
was happening to me already happened to him.
"We're
family now," he said.
"I
don't ...I'm not sure..." Turning away, I tried to calm my thoughts so I
could make a complete sentence.
"I
know this is hard to understand. I'm here if you need to talk." Kayin
touched my hand, and a spark of heat ignited beneath my skin.
I
rubbed the back of my hand as Kayin left to help another kid onto the
trampoline. While I felt happy to know I'm not alone in this, the heat thing
was strange. Oh well, one more thing to add to the 'list of weirdness'. I moved
on to the next class.
Hearing
Taliesin Gadarn tell us about the walking globe, a large ball that we were
going to walk on, I realized he would not be here for me if I needed to talk.
He looked like snow and ice. His attitude, the way he moved, the color of his
hair and skin chilled me. If it weren't for his blue eyes I would have thought
he was an albino.
"Are
there any questions?" Taliesin asked, looking over us one by one. I tried
not to feel insignificant under his cool assessing gaze. Did his high school
teach him how to act like a snob, or did it come naturally?
"Line
up," Taliesin said, flipping his white braid over his shoulder.
When
my turn came, Taliesin braced the knee-high walking globe against his shins and
held out his hands to me. Taking his hands, I climbed onto the ball. It teetered,
but I managed to stay on. Clenching my stomach, I tried to find my balance on
the wobbling ball.
"I'm
going to start walking," Taliesin said taking a small step back.
I
gripped his hands, took a small step and then another. Standing straighter, I
made my steps a little bit faster. Taliesin easily adjusted. When we got to the
end of the track my cheeks hurt from smiling so big.
"Thank
you, that was fun." I looked up, my smile fading at Taliesin's emotionless
face.
"Birds
like the air," he said as he walked back to the beginning.
What
did that mean? Birds? Is this some new slang? Or something to do with the
changes? And how would he know? He didn't feel like Kayin, and I didn't feel
any warmth or attraction to him. At this point I needed to make another entry
to my list if I hoped of keeping up with the craziness of today.
* * *
Stalling
without being obvious is a gift. In a classroom, the teacher is your best ally.
Ask questions or offer to help. Today, I helped move mats while the other kids
got ready for lunch. I wanted to sit alone. Once everyone else started eating I
would venture out and claim a nook to myself.
Not
everyone had settled down for lunch once the mats were put away, so I went to
the bathroom - another good stalling technique.
I
took a breath and prepared for the inevitable stream of questions that would
race through my mind when I spent any time looking in a mirror. Running my
fingers under the black bandanna, I checked to make sure my hair stayed secure
in the bun. It crunched from the mass of gel and hair spray I'd used.
Did
my mom have almond-shaped eyes, too? Did my dimples come from my dad? Did I
look like my parents, or like another family member? Who else in my family had
a nose that turned up a bit at the end?
These
questions were familiar. Having no memory or pictures of my parents, I’m a
mystery to myself. I have no idea who I am or where I come from. I hope that
someday I will either know who I am, or let it go and get on with my life.
Looking
at my changed reflection, I found new questions filling my mind. Did I look
more like my parents now, or less? Was I now proof of a mistake made in their
youth? An ancient family secret revealed? Would they be proud of how I looked,
or lock me in the basement so no one else could see me?
I
glared at myself in the mirror. "Sara, get a grip, go out there, make a
list of all the craziness, and eat lunch."
Looking
around the bathroom, I felt both grateful and disappointed that I didn't get
any flashes of memory. My hands itched to touch the walls, hoping to find where
my mom hid the package almost ten years ago. I flung the bathroom door open,
refusing to give in to hallucinations.
People-watching
is a sport in San Francisco, so the other students sat near the huge front
windows. Philip, Kayin and Taliesin were gathered in an office behind the desk,
with the door open. Shin brushed his blue and black bangs away from his face as
he ate with the students. He must have drawn the short straw.
Eavesdropping
is wrong; sitting where you can hear people talking is an 'accident.' The key:
don't sit so close they know you hear them. Looking busy helps. Luck was with
me today; a stack of mats stood a few feet from the open office door. Sitting
down, I leaned against the mats and took out my lunch.
"I
don't know if she's the Jewel, but she's definitely a Child of Fire,"
Philip said.
What is a Child of
Fire?
I took a bite of my vegetable sandwich. Pickle juice dripped down my chin. I
grabbed my napkin before it could drip onto my shirt. I didn't want to smell like
dill pickles all day.
"How
did classes go?" Philip asked.
"Fine,"
Taliesin said.
"I'm
looking forward to Gavin and Anali being here. Teaching is new to me, and I'd
rather help than be in charge," Kayin said.
I
thought Kayin did a good job.
"Do
you think you will be ready to teach a class in January?" Philip mumbled.
I guess he was eating.
"Yes.
Once I get used to teaching, I should be fine," Kayin said.
"You
did well today," Taliesin said. Wow, he could be nice.
"Thank
you," Kayin said.
I
jumped when the phone rang; not good, way too obvious. I finished my sandwich,
took out a notebook, and began listing all the weird things that happened so
far. Philip's one-sided phone conversation wasn't that interesting anyway,
something about hoping the storm cleared and that they would arrive here
tomorrow, whoever "they" were.
I
kept one ear on the conversation, in case something interesting came up, but
focused on my list: high fever, my hair, skin, and eyes changed color, I saw a
flashback/daydream/hallucination about my mom, Kayin said we were family, and I
felt heat when we touched. I didn't know what any of it meant, or what would
happen next. I had a feeling the weirdness wasn't over.
The
list didn't help. I hated change, even change within my control. Closing my
eyes, I leaned my head against the mats.
What
should I do? What could I do? I liked Melanie and trusted her, but nothing
could be a secret between us. She needed to report everything out of the
ordinary to my caseworker and the group home supervisor. The physical
differences were bad enough. If I added these weird feelings and visions, I
could wind up in the hospital for crazy people. That was not an option that
appealed to me.
I
guess I would have to wait and see what happened next. Maybe this was leftover
brain bubbles from the fever. Just odd stuff leaking from my subconscious, and
after a good night's sleep it would all go away. Yes, a good plan. I liked this
plan, especially the all going away part.
An
image flashed into my mind of an old leather-bound book, one I memorized and
which brought me comfort and words of wisdom when I needed it. It was the only
thing I had from my mom. On each page she wrote a quote, and then offered
advice in small neat letters.
"Change
is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix."
-Christina Baldwin.
"Every life is
full of changes and challenges. Some changes are small, while others will alter
the rest of your life. Some changes you will have hoped and prayed for, while
plenty of others will make you want to hide under your covers and stay in bed.
Just know that your strength lies within you. No matter what, remember who you
are. Change happens, finding out what new opportunities lie before you is a
sign of the wise and brave."
"All
right everyone, I'd like you all to finish up and meet in the middle of the
room in ten minutes," Philip said.
I
wasn't sure what was to come, what changes would be forced on me, or what
opportunities would present themselves. What I did know was that I needed to be
very careful.
About the Author
Not until she was thirty did Alica dare to write down any of the people living exciting lives in her head. The relief was instantaneous. By giving them life on the page they could be released from her mind and given greater adventures.
As her books grew in size and the voices in her head learned to wait their turn, Alica found a loyal group to journey with. Women who would help her slay her commas, and use their magical gifts to traverse plot holes, transform words into their proper spelling, and release characters from any Mary Sue spells they might be under.
In-between magical adventures, Alica is mom to two personal kids, five foster kids, has one exceptional hubby, a bunny she knows is plotting her death, and some fish, aka her daughter's minions.
Contact Her
Second Book in the Series
First an ancient Phoenix King and Queen and now a sleeping Mayan god, could Sapphire’s life get any weirder?
Sapphire. 15 years old, strong, intelligent, with newly acquired Phoenix powers. She travels through South America, with her recently-discovered family. Performing with Cirque de Feu Magique as a cover, the Children of Fire respond to the need of magical creatures to return home to Akasha.
Powerful beings take a dangerous interest in the creatures they are called to save. The challenges of growing leadership and conflict with a Mayan god force Sapphire to realize she’s stronger than she thought.
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Giveaway
- $25 Amazon Gift Card
- DVD of Worlds Away by Cirque du Soleil
- Signed Copies of Phoenix Child and Legacy of the Feathered Serpent
Phoenix Child and Legend of the Feathered Serpent sound great, I would love to read these books. Thank you
ReplyDeleteThank you, I hope you enjoy them :)
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