Read Phoenix (dystopian romance) (Theta Waves: Episode 1) for Free Online

explanation, but then he got to his feet and paced in front of her.
    "Well," he said, finally facing her. "If you won't tell me, then Ezekiel will."
    She wasn't sure what he meant at first, not until Ezekiel moved from his spot next to the wall and trudged over to the mayor, crossing his arms again expectantly.
    "I won't tell him anything either," Theda said. "Because there's no more to tell. I'm not selling any religion; I'm not pushing any ideas. All I'm doing is trying to keep myself fed."
    The mayor cocked his preened head at her. A shock of pomaded hair fell forward against his brow, and he brushed it back into place. "Keep yourself fed, or keep yourself high?"
    Theda tried to move some blood into her shoulders by working them back and forth as much as she could with her arms so far behind her. When she found no relief she answered with annoyance biting through her tone. "Sometimes one, sometimes the other. If my days are good, it's both." She twisted against her restraints. "If you think it's any more than that, you're ludicrously stupid."
    He actually laughed at that, and for a second Theda let herself believe they wouldn't take things any further. Ezekiel looked at her thoughtfully and pulled out a hefty looking folded knife from his cowboy boot. His eyes were locked on her mouth as he spoke to the mayor. "I think I can take it from here, boss. But it'll cost you extra."
    "I don't care what it costs," the mayor said. "Just get it done." He stalked towards the door and paused long enough to look back over his shoulder. "I have a small matter to attend to, but I should be back within the hour."
    Ezekiel grunted. "Get going then. I'll wait here for my payment."
    He waited until the door was closed before he knelt in front of Theda. She could see that there were some premature gray strands in his hair, and that he'd not shaved in days. No doubt he didn't have time what with all the lurking about and stalking her.
    "If you've been watching me, then you know what I do doesn't take long."
    He nodded, placing one palm on her knee.
    "And you should know I have nothing in mind except getting through every day with a full belly and every night in a blissful state of nothingness."
    "It's not so much your intent, minou , as what happens after the things you do." With his free hand he flicked open his knife. It was a monstrous thing, with a sharp point and an edge that he obviously worked at keeping. He met her eyes with his and held them for a long moment before he spoke again.
    "Do you think I'll need to sit down first?" There was a note of humour in his voice, but somewhere beneath that, Theda could tell was anxiety too. She nodded quietly.
    "You know that what happens afterwards is none of my affair," Theda said, trying one last time. "I can't control what happens to people after they leave me."
    He nodded. "I'm sure that's true."
    He squeezed her knee gently before relinquishing it and with one thrust jammed the point of the knife into his finger and waited until blood bubbled to the surface.
    "Open up," he murmured, almost intimately.
    She sighed, resolute. She considered for a moment that if she didn't focus, maybe the magic wouldn't happen. And if the Magic didn't happen, there'd be nothing for him to tell the mayor, and even less reason to hold her. But they'd be watching her then. She knew that. And she knew her power would betray her in the end. Constant consumption of the godspit had left her unable to control it. His life would come to her, and she would share it, and this time she couldn't explain it away the way she had with the mayor.
    "Go on," Ezekiel urged.
    "Do you need the money that badly?" She asked him. "Is it so bad for you that you would prostitute yourself this way?"
    He smirked. "Things are bad all over, as if you hadn't noticed." He shifted on the floor so that his legs wrapped around the feet of her chair. He leaned forward, and she could smell the leather of his coat, the remnants of some cologne he'd