Page 69 of Phoenix Academy: Mayhem

Reggie mutters, "You're the stain. The dark cloud in Ari's life that comes to an end today." Drawing his weapon, he looks to me. "I can do it, Ari. Or we can all go at once. In case you don't think you can do it alone."

"No." Shaking my head, I carefully draw the knife I brought along for just this purpose. A knife, because that's the weapon he used to kill me. "This is what I came here for. I just... before I do it, I want to know: why?"

"Why did I kill you?"

"Yes. And—how did you become... that thing you became?"

He grimaces, and moves to sit up—only to wince and fall back to the ground as his burnt skin grows taut. I'd feel bad about it, but he deserves that much and worse.

"The answer to both questions is the same: a coven of dark witches killed me and raised me from the dead." Looking into my eyes, he says, "I know that doesn't excuse what I became. But they wanted a weapon, and they got one. Just... not the kind they expected."

"What were they expecting?"

"A phoenix. Some kind of rare one, based on their excitement when they captured me. But while I have the blood of the reborn in my veins, I wasn't destined to come back from the dead. When they raised me anyway, things went... sideways. In my soulless state, I blamed every witch for what was done to me." His eyes close in guilt, then reopen and stare up at the ceiling. "Including you, your sister, and your mother. Oh, Ari. No wonder you hunted me down. If you want revenge, I suppose it's yours to take."

Something about this feels hollow. This isn't the man I came here to kill. I knew there was a chance it wouldn't be, but—not like this. I can't become a cold-blooded murderer.

Until Reggie reminds me, "We don't know how long the rune will work, Ari. He was risen from the dead. That tends to come with side affects. There's a chance he'll revert."

"What my brother said," Xavier adds, raising his brows. "Though usually I'm the one with the information on hand."

"I'm not sure I can do it," I confess. Looking up to David, the one of the three who understands fucked up fathers the most, I ask him, "Could you?"

"I don't know. I don't think so." He motions towards a gun. "But I could do it for you."

That would be wrong. I can't turn him into a killer. This is my task to take.

"I have to do it. I can't let the three of you bear that burden or that guilt." Looking down into the eyes of the man I've feared all my life, I tell him, "Wes Grainger, your sins are too many, and you were never meant to rise from the dead. So in a way, I'm just putting things back how they should be. Just in case, though... do you have any last words?"

Those eyes meet mine. He says, "Lean closer."

I do. Maybe I'm a fool. "Yes?"

"I love you, Ari." His eyes go to my hand, where I loosely hold the knife. "And I'm sorry that it has to end this way."

I don't understand. Then he moves, lightning-fast. He grabs the knife from my hand. For a terrifying moment I think he's going to kill me, that this has all been a trick, that I never had a kind father underneath the soulless monster.

Instead he holds the knife to his own throat, and in a clear, soft voice says, "Goodbye, girl."

Then he slashes it across his own veins so deep and so fast that blood sprays across my face. I rear back in horror, wiping my eyes—and by the time I can see through the red spray again, he's gone.

Forever.

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