Viktoria (The Rising Phoenix Series, #1)

Chapter 1

As far as the eye could see, spread out all around her, was water. Viktoria was floating in the middle of the ocean with only the fading sun as a guide. She held her breath as she realized she was sitting on a raft, her feet dangling over the water’s edge.

For some unexplained reason, Viktoria did not want her feet to plunge underneath the dark liquid. She suddenly felt a life force moving all around her. Terror overwhelmed her; she had always feared water entities, especially sharks.

Viktoria realized her feet had fallen into the water, when she felt them hitting something hard. Her breath caught in her throat as she rapidly peered down to see what her heels had struck: underneath the surface emerged the contour of an immense cylinder.

As she raised her eyes to follow the circumference of the object, its vastness made her stomach turn. Her head started to spin as she noticed the cylinder was hollow. A wave carried her closer to the edge, while she frantically fought the current.

Thousands of individuals scattered on hundreds of different floors staring up at her. These entities were faceless: glowing light replacing their features. Even though she could not discern their eyes, she felt the weight of their stare. Suddenly, she heard a piercing noise from above. Lifting her head, she caught a glance of a deep dark shadow. As a dragon tore the blood-red sky plunging in her direction she awoke.

Chapter 2

What’s your favourite deadly sin? asked Jonathan C. Lord. I bet it’s lust, he said grinning.

Jonathan was a 32-year-old man going on 15, built for sports with his 6 feet 5 and 210 pounds. His wry smile added to his clear green eyes made his reputation. As a salesman Jonathan stopped at nothing. He had the undeniable ability to define someone’s personality traits in a fraction of a second. He rarely went wrong, except when he was standing in front of Elizabeth George.

Oh yes, Elizabeth George held a power that no man could resist. Growing up together, he had always liked her. Though he was passing through relationships like a squirrel on nuts, he had never been able to get her out of his head.

Elizabeth was a 25 year old painter. Her long silky hair sliding down her back, added to her crystal blue cat eyes, made her irresistible to him. Like Jonathan, she was a quick thinker. The first time she had seen him, she had a vision revealing to her the nature of his bond to her, she knew in advance what would someday happen. Until then, she tried to keep her mind busy, ignoring his suggestive comments.

And so, Jonathan made it his priority to whisper to anyone who would listen that Elizabeth was a closet lesbian.

It’s obvious, he would say. How could she resist me otherwise? Look at her! She’s always playing hard to get, swearing and bragging about her sexual adventures. Give me a break! Let me tell you something… I can spot a lesbian from a mile away. If she isn’t one, neither is Brook Shields, he grinned.

On and on it went.

Hey, I’m talking to you! Jonathan raised his voice so she would pay attention to him.

Greed, replied Elizabeth in her smooth voice, turning her head away from him.

Greed? asked Viktoria looking surprised, Why greed?

Elizabeth peered at herself in her pocket mirror fixing her make-up. I admire people that disregard their self-image. Viktoria’s eyes widened for a moment waiting for further explanation. Only silence stood. Jonathan, on the other hand, seemed satisfied with the reasoning.

Viktoria looked around. Most of the clients had left the boutique while they had been talking. Emmanuelle was slowly getting ready to close her flower shop and transform it into Spices the hottest teahouse in town.

At night, crowds would gather in Emmanuelle’s teahouse to either drink what Viktoria suspected to be medicine tea or to listen to the performers of the open mike nights.

The first thing you would notice as you came into Spices was the low light atmosphere. Wherever you looked, candles flickered with the movement of the crowd. On each table, petals were scattered beside what seemed to be a miniature red lantern.

The smell of chocolates rose in the air, mixed in with the smell of honey, as Emmanuelle came out of the small back room. As she would offer chocolates to her guests, a small stage would appear from where her flower pots stood during the day.

Viktoria dimmed what was left of the lights, as Elizabeth tried to ignore the visitors analyzing her paintings on the wall. They were searching restlessly for hidden symbols behind the different shadings and colours, trying to delimit the artist’s personality.

Hmmm, I see despair, said one and so much Agony, right there behind the blue how-would-you-call-it, Stick?

No, Francine! It’s not despair, per say… said the other. Freud would describe it as a symbol of her unresolved phallic instincts.

They were both staring at the painting criticizing the influence of the media, the growing taxes, the dying whales, when Elizabeth could take no more.

I swear we should tag paintings, thought Elizabeth to herself, demanding that the observers have a certain IQ level to look at our Art: just like they measure kids before they take a ride at the amusement park.

Frustrated, she turned around towards the two women and said: Hey you! That stick there… is just a stick. Move on!

The two women raised their purses to their breasts, pressed their lips together and exchanged a look. Jonathan, who had been listening to the entire conversation from his table, could not resist laughing. He waved with the tip of his fingers to Elizabeth, while exchanging a wink with the women.

Elizabeth was about to throw a glare at Jon, when Emmanuelle spoke into the microphone welcoming everybody to another night of music.

It’s a real pleasure to have you all here, she started. As you know, tonight we have some friends performing here for us. Put your hands together and please welcome warmly the Digital Crows.

Viktoria glanced at Elizabeth who was adjusting her drums; she wondered what they would play tonight. Jonathan plugged in his guitar and nodded to a woman who was raising her glass to him. Whispers faded as Mark got out of the back room. He started speaking into the microphone that stood alone in the centre of the small stage surrounded by flowers.

When I stare into the night, no star seems to shine. Blood desperation is high.

Viktoria held her breath as she recognized the song she had written years ago: Black Magic Ride.

If you lower yourself, let me suck at your thoughts. I’ll take you on a Magic Black Ride.

Mark watched Viktoria, as her hands slid slowly over the synthesizer. She remembered the night she had written it. The air had been thick and her thoughts had roamed around in her mind, spinning incessantly. His eyes had haunted her.

No point in embracing. No point in fading. Magic Black Ride tonight.

Viktoria had dreamed for years about His lips, His hands. She had longed to be near Him, but Life had had other plans for her. She had opened herself up to him once, a long time ago, and regretted it ever since.

Some just never learn to Love.

Let me cover you crazy, drape you into pieces. Let go of your Soul for me.

The evening wore on, Jonathan’s fingers ached. Mark decided to leave the stage, the show was apparently over.

Chapter 3

I wonder why he does that, said Jonathan closing his guitar case.

Does what? asked Emmanuelle as she passed the broom around the stage. The crowd had left quite a mess behind.

Be so difficult, he replied, Mark could get any girl he likes, as much as I hate to admit it. He just chooses to keep everyone out. He seriously gets on my nerves sometimes. Jonathan stared towards the backroom wondering what women actually saw in him.

Cutting in from the corner of the room, Viktoria said: Come on, give him a break. You know he’s shy, closed up on himself. Not everyone can be extraverted like you. Besides, he’s been giving a lot of himself lately. I think he just needs some time to relax.

Jonathan chuckled. No way, there’s more to this than stress or fatigue. There’s just something about him that makes my skin crawl. I call it instinct. Jonathan went on: He just isn’t normal, Viktoria. There’s something in his eyes that gets my alarms going. He looks like everyone else, but there’s just something strange about his behaviour. I can’t put my finger on it yet, but it’ll come to me.

Viktoria stared a few minutes at Jonathan wondering what she should say next. His lack of empathy towards their friend disappointed her. She wished she could herself be more supportive of Mark, but it was hard for her to know what he exactly needed. He had always been quite difficult to read. The only place he stood out, stood up for what he believed in, was on stage. There, all his inhibitions ceased to exist. Viktoria always wondered how it would feel to be the centre of his world. Mark seemed so passionate about his Art. She wished for a second that someone would be as devoted to her as he was towards his Music.

Wanting to change the topic to something lighter, Emmanuelle started giggling about some tea she made for a couple who had seemed to be having relationship difficulties and how they could not take their hands off of each other after finishing their drinks. She laughed and passed her broom to Jonathan who just stood there, looking at it as if it was an unauthorized cleaning object.

Slowly, Viktoria made her way to the backroom as the last customers left Spices. When she got to the doorway, Elizabeth was sitting across from Mark.

The scent of Jasmine tea flirted with the burning incense they had lighted. A couple of empty cups sat on the table ready to be filled. Elizabeth had placed some chocolates on a plate right beside the boiling hot Chinese teapot.

THAT was a great show, MARK! squealed a voice behind Viktoria.

The girl that had raised her glass to Jonathan was now pushing her way towards him: her high heels beating against the floor loudly as she tried to keep her balance on them.

"I just LOVED that song you sang!! Black Magic