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CHAPTER 1

Everyday Life

New Rome City, New Rome

The rain had come out of nowhere. The desert sand had become mud so quickly that Andrew slipped as he left his tent. In the middle of the small fire that the Roman patrol had set up earlier in the day, flames soared high into the night sky despite the heavy downpour. In the center of the blaze stood a strange man. The man looked up, tears streaking down his face, his mouth open in a silent shriek though the flames did not appear to be burning him. The most disturbing part of it all, however, was a horrible mark on the man's forehead that emanated an intense aura of fear and dread. The mark looked like three serpents, each devouring the other, wriggling lifelike in a circle but never completing their task. The man in the flames opened his black-filled eyes and pointed at Andrew, mouthing something he could not hear.

Gasping for breath, Andrew sat up straight and knocked his head hard against that of his twin sister, Rose. She had been shaking him gently to wake him from the nightmare. Gingerly rubbing his head, Andrew looked up at his sister as she sat back and rubbed her own forehead, which had a red mark from their collision. Rose looked like she was about to yell at him but then gasped in shock instead.

"What is it?" asked Andrew in alarm. He looked around the room for something unusual but found nothing but his typical, boring bedroom.

"Andy, it's your eyes. They were a weird color just a second ago," exclaimed Rose. Her chestnut hair, worn in long spirals, bounced around her round face as she spoke. She reached out and grabbed her twin's similar narrow chin and pulled him close to her. Her brown eyes stared into his blue eyes for much longer than Andrew felt comfortable with.

"Rose, you're being weird again. Stop letting your imagination control you! Also, why were you in my room again?" Andrew put his hand on his sister's face and gently pushed her away. He swung his legs out of his bed and yawned loudly, trying to ignore the terrifying dream that he'd been having more and more frequently recently.

Sitting down next to her brother, Rose stared at him, obviously still concerned. "You were yelling in your sleep again. It sounded really scary. I'd say tell me about it, but I definitely don't want anything like that in my life. By the way, it's way past noon, and we have a lot to do today. Go take a shower. You're all sweaty and gross. We have the quincentennial to go to at Longacre Square, and we need to look decent. I hear there may even be a phoenix lord giving a speech," Rose said, forgetting her worries quickly, as she often did in favor of more exciting things.

"Well, I know you've been looking forward to it," replied the far less enthusiastic Andrew. He bounced back onto his bed and sprawled out comfortably. "I still don't understand the excitement. I bet it's just going to be old man Rostam from Rome. All his speeches just drone on and on about the Great War and how the legions could use our help. Blah, blah, blah!"

"Stop being lazy and get up," Rose demanded. She threw a pillow at the lounging Andrew, which he dodged by rolling out of his bed.

"Fine, but I get to choose dinner tonight," Andrew bargained, and Rose agreed with a noncommittal shrug on her way out.

Getting up, Andrew brushed his curls out of his face and stretched his long limbs lazily once more. His light bronze skin glistened from the slight sweat he had worked up from the nightmare. He went into the adjoining bathroom to get ready and looked at his eyes in the mirror. Not seeing anything unusual, he assumed Rose was making things up to get him to move faster. Sighing at her drastic tactics, he got into the shower, now determined to make her late.

An hour later, Andrew walked down the steps of their lavish downtown home. His parents were rarely home due to the location of their job and the twins' refusal to move from New Rome. Their older brother, Trevor, a high-ranking centurion in the Roman Legion, traveled all over the world and had not been home in nearly two years. The result was that the twins had the red-brick house all to themselves. The house had a long history as a home to many of the most important people in the city, and it was richly decorated to reflect that tradition. The second floor had five rooms with cherry wood floors and two bathrooms. Pictures of their family hung on the white walls in the hall that connected each room. The stairs were polished and beautiful, and the wooden steps did not make a sound as Andrew descended into the main living room. On the wall directly across from the stairs hung a massive screen used for telecalls and television. The twins had spent countless hours binge-watching television shows late into the night.

The living room was furnished with two-hundred-year-old refurbished furniture. The cabinets were made from oak and filled with expensive treasures from governors, mayors, and military leaders dating back to the failed American Revolution in 1776. On the walls hung paintings of members of the Phoenix Council, with the emperor of Rome in the center of the ten phoenix lords, who ruled from their beautiful palace in Rome. Rose was chatting away with Trevor on a telecall, laughing at some story he was telling her. Trevor had his usual smile spread across his handsome, smooth face. His strong, square jaw and brown eyes matched his father's Congolese features, whereas his freckled cheeks and narrow nose matched his mother's French descent. The twins adored Trevor, and he called frequently to check up on them, despite his extremely busy schedule. Both Andrew and Rose felt he was more of a parent than either of their actual parents ever had been.

"There you are, lazybones! Are you ready for the quincentennial?" asked Trevor, his short hair doing little to stop the beads of sweat from falling down his handsome face. Trevor wore a tank top drenched in sweat from his daily workout. His undershirt clung to his torso, revealing his well-toned muscles and deeply tanned skin. He laughed as he spoke, which was typical during their lighthearted conversations.

Trevor's happiness to see them always caused Andrew to smile, no matter how hard a day he was having. Despite that, Andrew shrugged his narrow shoulders at the thought of the event, indicating he could take it or leave it. As Andrew joined Rose by the screen, she nudged him in annoyance.

Trevor laughed even more at their typical bickering, glad to see they were doing fine. "Before you get home tonight, be sure to get enough food for four. I'm in town, and we have a guest who'll be very hungry after her speech."

The twin's faces showed excitement at the prospect of seeing their brother, followed by confusion. A guest? A speech? The twins glanced at each other.

"Wait a second. You don't mean what I think you mean, do you?" asked Andrew, quickly putting together the implications.

"Tell me we're not hosting a phoenix lord," Rose yelled, following Andrew's line of thinking. Rose waved behind her to a large pile of mostly empty takeout containers strewn across the room. "Have you actually seen this place? It's a total wreck!"

"The members of the Phoenix Council have been all over the world. They've existed in times and places of extreme squalor. This phoenix, however, expects a high quality of service and cleanliness. Knowing about squalor firsthand, she's particular about the quality of life she lives, if it can be helped. Just be happy the one I have is a tame phoenix and not one of those who would gut you at the slightest insult. She'll only kill you if you really piss her off," Trevor said. He was half-joking, but that didn't lessen their panic.

Looking around their home, the nineteen-year-old twins suddenly realized exactly how messy they had allowed it to become. Neither had particularly great cooking skills, so they ordered out almost nightly. Being typical lazy teenagers, they never cleaned unless necessary, and even when they did clean, they weren't great at it. They looked at each other in a panic and started scrambling about, picking up trash.

"Better hurry! She'll be at the house about three hours after the event tonight and expects Japanese food. And do not try to get by with that New Roman trash you two are so fond of," laughed Trevor. There was a loud knock at the door behind him, and he turned. He nodded in response to muffled words and then sighed softly, rubbing his temples. He whipped back around to the screen and smiled mischievously as he waved for the twins to hurry up and then disconnected.

Rose began looking online for popular Japanese dishes and volunteered to go out to buy the ingredients at a local grocery store that sold the exotic ingredients needed. Andrew quickly began picking up trash, silently mourning all the extra work today was turning out to be. An hour and a half later, the two set out on a bus to go to the event, already exhausted from the day's cleaning and knowing there would be no rest for them anytime soon.

* * *

Hanging up the receiver, Trevor began his preparations for the evening security detail. His current assignment was escorting the troubled phoenix Yuki Takeda. His primary goal was to ensure her safety and good behavior. His secondary goal was to help her deal with her general unpopularity around the globe and the stress caused to her privately. Trevor's patience and extremely high ability to deal with situations quicker than they developed had advanced him far into the elite First Legion of Rome, the personal army of the Phoenix Council. His rank of Twelfth Centurion of the First Legion had rarely been reached by someone only twenty-six years old. That rank also placed him as the twelfth-strongest non-phoenix in the Roman Legions, named after the famed armies of ancient Rome.

The centurions served many roles in the legion, from general to elite special forces, secret service directors, and counterintelligence operatives, all with the sole purpose of serving the empire and the will of the Phoenix Council. There are over three hundred legions spread across the Empire, each comprising of one hundred centuries. A Century comprised of no more than two hundred soldiers and was commanded by a single centurion. The First Legion was a special army that reported directly to the entire Phoenix Council and was based out of Rome. Each centurion in the First was beyond elite, with the First through Thirteenth Centuries set aside to be personally assigned to a phoenix lord for his or her own personal use.

Trevor had been handpicked by Emperor Rostam, the Ruby Phoenix and leader of the Phoenix Council. The emperor had held the council and world together in the immediate aftermath of the Great Phoenix War using shrewd diplomacy instead of brute force. He had commanded Trevor to watch over the young Yuki Takeda, who was hated for many reasons, including her Japanese heritage and the actions of Zane in her past life. The open hostility and disrespect at large events had led to Takeda often going into crowds and severely beating protesters, which only deepened people's mistrust and hatred of her. Trevor had patiently worked with Takeda, building a trusting relationship with her. This relationship had made him invaluable to both Takeda and the council since her outbursts had been nearly nonexistent in public in the last six months, though that calm had yet to extend to her behavior in private.

Turning around in his plush chair, Trevor mentally prepared himself for the long day ahead. He had gotten very little sleep the last few nights because he had been directing a lower centurion — a "giant muscle with no brains," as Takeda often described him. Gregor Sala, the Thirty-Ninth Centurion of the First Legion, was an excellent warrior and battlefield strategist but was lacking in the brains department when it came to security and long-term planning. Luckily for Trevor, Gregor could follow orders readily enough, so things had not been a total disaster.

Someone knocked at the door yet again, interrupting his mental preparations. Sighing heavily, Trevor pushed a button under his desk, which opened the door to reveal a serious-looking legionnaire.

"Centurion Cromartie, Madam Takeda is kicking the tailor again. She says her taste in traditional kimonos is more than ... somewhat lacking," reported the legionnaire. He shifted uncomfortably, waiting for a command as some noodles dangled off his otherwise neatly pressed dress uniform, likely thrown at him by Takeda herself.

"I'm on my way," stated Trevor kindly. He imagined this two-thousand-year-old soul throwing a temper tantrum over clothing and sighed. "Go clean yourself up, legionnaire. We have to look our best out there today. The world is always watching us, and we must always put on our best face." "Yes, sir, Centurion Cromartie! Thank you, sir," shouted the overzealous man. He saluted stiffly and quickly left the room to get ready for the stage. Shaking his head in disbelief, Trevor closed the door and quickly rinsed himself off before retrieving his neatly prepared formal wear. He pulled on perfectly pressed black pants with a dark red stripe going up both legs. A black belt with a golden buckle in the shape of an ancient Roman helmet shone beautifully as he put on his tall black boots. He put on his white dress shirt and black tie and then secured his service pistols, checking to make sure his twin knives were in place on his lower back. He threw on his black coat and buttoned it up. He inspected the red and gold patches before securing his white sash and attaching his gold aiguillette. Inspecting himself once more in the mirror, he grabbed his hat and gloves and then left his room. His polished black boots clicked softly in the quiet hall as he approached an open door. He smiled when an angry shriek broke the silence.

"If you do not know the difference between a furisoda and a yukata, you should not be serving as my tailor, damned fool! You're all incompetent! Where's Cromartie?" shouted Takeda from beyond the doorway. Her voice was highly stressed and irritated, as was typical for her before these big events.

A young woman stumbled out the door, ducking as a tin full of needles flew over her head and slammed hard into the wall, sending the sharp objects flying, with several needles lodging painfully in the girl's back. The girl saw Trevor and ran up to him with a wild, terrified look in her eyes. "Don't let her kill me! I did everything I could, but she hates me. I'm not familiar with her country's customs!" cried the tailor, crouching close to Trevor's feet.

"Don't worry," Trevor said gently. "Madam Takeda's not truly upset at you. Go and take the rest of the day off. I'll handle things from here, but just between us, she actually likes your work, which is why we brought you in the first place." He lifted the trembling girl up and walked her a few steps away before turning back to face Takeda.

"Well, time to earn my paycheck," Trevor said quietly, breathing deeply and straightening his uniform before entering the hectic dressing room.

The Quincentennial

Takeda had been complaining the entire time about wearing a formal kimono. She was being forced to fulfill a stereotype by the council after a favorable study had shown crowds liked it. Trevor simply nodded and listened as he continued his task of ensuring she would be ready in time for her speech. Once the outer robe was on, Takeda began to brush her straight black hair, which flowed past her shoulders to her middle back. Her hair only hinted at the cares she took to ensure a perfect appearance while in public. Her large, dark eyes were free of marks or makeup, and her natural beauty made all around her wonder if she was a mythical beauty out of the pages of some legend. Her small, slender body was perfectly toned from the hours of arduous training she had put in every day since she was a child. Yuki Takeda worked hard every day, sculpting her body to perfection, a habit most phoenixes had developed over their many lifetimes as an advantageous distraction from the constant nightmares that flowed freely from their past lives.

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Excerpted from "The Phoenix Chronicles"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Eric M Sipe.
Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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