Page 41 of Phoenix Chosen 3

“My name is Tyler Blackwood,” I continue in a calm, even voice. “I’m from Bakerville, California. I was transported here, just like you were.”

The crackling of the stun gun stops.

“Just toss it aside,” I tell him. “I’ll let you go, and everything will be cool.”

“What are you, a fucking cop?” he says.

“Better. Security guard.”

He laughs, and I feel him relax.

“Good,” I say, loosening my grip. “So can we just?—”

His elbow drives into my stomach. With a fast twist, he’s broken out of my grip, and the business end of the stun gun is saying hello to my ribs. I collapse onto my side like a sack of potatoes. Fuck, so much for that jujitsu.

The man turns and sprints, but a bolt of green energy snaps from Airos’s staff and hits him in the back. He goes rigid like a statue and topples backward, landing in Airos’s arms. The stun gun clunks across the dirt.

Kalistratos skids to my side.

“Well, I tried,” I say.

“Are you hurt?”

“Nah,” I groan as he helps me onto my shaky legs. “It’s just a tickle, that’s all.”

Airos sits the man on the ground.

“Let’s get a look at our new friend, shall we?” he says and pulls back the hood.

His head lolls forward, shaking a twist of dark hair across his dirty forehead. He’s younger than I expected. His eyes flutter open, but he looks like he’s drunk a fifth of Everclear. Absolutely discombobulated. His cloak is heavy and flowy enough to hide his stature and physique. but now that I’m up close and personal, I’ve noticed a telling swell at the front of the garment.

“Jesus, Airos,” I say. “What’d you do, scramble his brains?”

“He’ll be fine.” Airos reaches into the sleeve of his robe and pulls out a bundled cord, then positions the man on his knees in a praying position. “Hold him steady and put his hands behind his back.”

With practiced swiftness, Airos weaves the cord around the man’s ankles and wrists, securing them together. It’s as unexpected as it is impressive. This is beyond boy scout shit—it reminds me of something I would expect to see gracing the cover of some bondage magazine.

“Excessive, is it not?” Kalistratos asks, clearly thinking the same thing as me.

“Not when you’ve been stabbed in the back by a prisoner you thought you secured,” Airos says, finishing the knot. He wipes his hands and kneels in front of the man, then places his staff between them. “Give me some time to set his mind back in place.”

“So youdidscramble his brains,” I say.

While Airos is doing his spellcasting, Kalistratos and I look around the campsite. I pass the strange sculpture garden, and Kalistratos prods one of the mounds with his sandal. It crumbles apart.

“Some kind of Gaean ritual?” he asks me.

“Not unless he’s really into arts and crafts,” I reply.

Maybe he is. The lean-to looks well-constructed, definitely better than anything I could do with a pile of twigs. Shit, it seems even better than the little shack Airos was living in.

I look closer at the leaves and bark layered like shingles and am surprised to see a layer of plastic beneath them. Poking at it, it seems like it’s made from one of those disposable ponchos you sometimes see people wearing on water rides at theme parks. Kalistratos copies me and pokes at it too.

“I’ve seen this strange material before,” he says.

“Of course you have, it’s plastic.”

“Plah… steek. So, it is true. He is from your world.”

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