Phoenix Rising: Brotherhood of Shadows

The pain hit me before consciousness did. My head throbbed like someone had used it for drum practice, and every breath sent sharp stabs through my ribs. I tried to open my eyes, but the light cut through my skull like broken glass. Cold concrete pressed against my cheek, and the smell of rust and motor oil filled my nose. Where was I? I forced my eyes open and immediately regretted it. The world spun in nauseating circles. I was lying on the floor of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Broken windows let in pale morning light that created long shadows across the empty space. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the rumble of traffic, which meant I was still in the city. But which part? And how did I get here? I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, fighting against the wave of dizziness that threatened to pull me back down. My jacket was torn, and my knuckles were scraped raw. When I looked down at my hands, I froze. Blood. Dark red stains covered my palms and fingers. My heart started hammering against my ribs as I checked myself over, searching for wounds. But I found nothing. No cuts, no gashes, nothing that would explain all this blood. Which meant it probably wasn't mine. "What the hell happened?" I whispered to the empty warehouse. The last thing I remembered was Thursday night. I had finished my shift at the loading dock and headed home to check on Devon. We were supposed to watch a movie together, some action thing he had been excited about. But now, as I fumbled for my phone with shaking hands, the screen told me it was Sunday morning. Sunday. Three days. I had lost three entire days. My phone battery was at four percent, and I had seventeen missed calls from Devon. The most recent one was from Friday afternoon. After that, nothing. My stomach dropped. Devon never went silent. He was always texting, always checking in, especially since Mom died two years ago. It was just the two of us now, and we looked out for each other. I tried calling him back, but the call went straight to voicemail. "Devon, it's me. I don't know what's going on, but I'm okay. Call me back as soon as you get this. Please." I stood up slowly, testing my balance. Everything hurt, but nothing seemed broken. As I moved, something crinkled in my jacket pocket. I reached in and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. The handwriting was messy, written in what looked like hurried panic. "Mark, if you're reading this, they got me. Don't trust anyone. The rebirths are real. You're one of them now. Find Ifizi. He'll explain everything. I'm sorry I dragged you into this. Love you, brother." The paper slipped from my fingers and drifted to the floor. Devon's handwriting. Devon's words. They got me. My little brother was in trouble, and somehow, I was part of the reason why. I had to find him. But first, I needed to figure out what happened to me during those missing days. What did he mean by rebirths? And who was Ifizi? I stumbled toward the exit, using the wall for support. My legs felt weird, like they belonged to someone else. Each step came easier than the last though, and by the time I reached the door, I was walking almost normally. Strange. I should have been weaker after whatever I'd been through. Outside, the warehouse district stretched in all directions. I recognized this place now. The Cuts, the eastern district where only the desperate or the dangerous spent time. I was about eight blocks from our apartment. The walk would give me time to think, to piece together what little I knew. As I started walking, I noticed something odd. My vision seemed sharper than usual. I could make out details on buildings blocks away, could count the pigeons sitting on a fire escape four stories up. When a car turned the corner three streets over, I heard it clearly, could even tell it needed new brake pads from the squealing sound. What was happening to me? I kept my head down and moved quickly through the empty streets. It was early enough that most people were still inside, but I passed a few homeless guys sleeping in doorways and a jogger who gave me a wide berth when she saw the state I was in. I couldn't blame her. I probably looked like I'd crawled out of a crime scene. The thought made me check my hands again. The blood was starting to flake off, leaving brown stains on my skin. Whose blood was this? What had I done during those three days? By the time I reached our apartment building, my heart was racing for a different reason. The front door was slightly open, which was never a good sign in our neighborhood. I took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the burning in my legs, and found our apartment door kicked in. "Devon!" I shouted, rushing inside. The place had been torn apart. Couch cushions slashed open, drawers dumped out, even the kitchen cabinets emptied onto the floor. They had been looking for something. But what? Devon's room was worse. His computer was gone, his notes and schoolwork scattered everywhere. I bent down and picked up a photo that had fallen from his desk. It was from last summer, the two of us at the pier, both smiling like idiots because some tourist had offered to take our picture. Devon looked so young in it, so normal. Not like someone who would get mixed up in whatever this was. I sat down on his bed, crushing some papers beneath me. When I shifted my weight, something sharp poked my leg. I reached under the mattress and pulled out a small USB drive wrapped in a note. "Mark, I hid this where they won't look. Everything I found is on here. The names, the locations, the proof. If I'm gone, take this to Detective Eugenia. She's the only cop in this city who might actually help. Don't try to find me alone. These people are dangerous. They turned you into something else, and they'll do worse to me if they think I know too much. I love you, brother. Don't blame yourself." My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped the USB drive. Devon had been investigating something big enough to get himself kidn*pped. Something about rebirths and people being turned into something else. Something that involved me. A sound from the hallway made me freeze. Footsteps, too heavy and too deliberate to be a neighbor. I slipped the USB drive into my pocket and looked around for something to defend myself with. My hand closed around a baseball bat leaning in Devon's closet, the same one we used to play with in the park when he was younger. The footsteps stopped outside our door. Through the broken frame, I could see a shadow, someone tall and broad. My heart pounded so loud I was sure they could hear it. "Mark Kane?" The voice was deep, with an accent I couldn't place. "I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Ifizi. Your brother asked me to watch out for you." Ifizi. The name from Devon's note. But could I trust him? Could I trust anyone right now? "How do I know you're telling the truth?" I called out, gripping the bat tighter. There was a pause, then something slid across the floor toward me. A photograph. I picked it up carefully, keeping one eye on the door. It showed Devon shaking hands with a tall, dark-skinned man covered in tattoos. On the back, Devon had written: "Ifizi Cross, Red Serpents. Not what I expected. Might actually help." I lowered the bat slightly. "Come in. Slowly." The man who entered looked exactly like he did in the photo, except in person he seemed even more dangerous. He wore an expensive suit that didn't match his scarred knuckles and the snake tattoo that crawled up his neck. His eyes swept over the destroyed apartment before settling on me. "We need to talk," Ifizi said. "About what you've become, about what your brother discovered, and about why you only have one chance to save him before it's too late." I tightened my grip on the bat. "Then start talking."