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Wiri sank onto the sofa, his body folding like crumpled paper. The fight left him as he contemplated the growing mess his life had become. He ran a shaking hand over his face. Phoenix’s presence added a clarity he didn’t want. It hit him afresh that he’d almost died in the water tank. Now he understood why. A random stranger wanted him and Vaughan dead.
Phoenix sat next to him. She slipped an arm around his bowed shoulders and laid her cheek against his biceps. “It’ll be okay,” she promised, sounding just like her formidable father. “We can fix this. Tell me what happened to you.”
Wiri snuffled a soft laugh, which died on his lips. He turned to face her and wrapped his arms around her shaking body. Her courage was an illusion, a borrowed facade demanded by their shared genetics. Reuben Du Rose’s blood coursed through their veins, both a blessing and a curse. “I accused Seline of trying to kill me,” he whispered. “It was a long shot, a comment I just chucked out there.” He sighed and his chest hurt. “It was true. She tried to kill me.”
“Why?” Phoenix drew back to stare up into his eyes. “Why you? How does this man even know you?”
Wiri shook his head, and it ached. “I don’t know, Phoe. Do you think Uncle Logan could have anything to do with it? Did he find out about us?”
Phoenix’s lips parted in protest, but the shake of her head lacked energy. She shrugged. “No. I don’t think so.” She exhaled and her breath stirred his fringe. “The man seems to want her to get rid of more than one person. You arrived alone. I think you’ve got caught up in something accidentally.” She reached up and kissed him, lingering as his arms tightened around her. “Let’s get you some painkillers and think about everything that’s happened in the last few days.” Her lips flattened. “If we can’t fix it, Wiri, we need to call Papa. You understand that, don’t you?”
He nodded, every movement of his head shifting the boulder. It grew heavier, more tiresome in its efforts to stop him breathing, functioning, moving, living. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone lacklustre. “To keep you safe. Yeah.”
Phoenix heated her discarded coffee in the microwave and fetched pills for Wiri. She handed both items to him as he sat on the sofa. Circumstance pinned him in place, the mystery whirling around his head without coherence. He felt utterly defeated. The Plan had imploded around him and he had nothing to offer.
“You’re a mess.” Phoenix sank down next to him, lifting her hand to brush his hair from his eyes. She sighed. “I love this.”
“What?” Wiri gulped three of the tablets with a mouthful of coffee, staring up at her in surprise. He shook his head. “You love taking calls from a maniac and beating up a hired killer?”
Phoenix threw her head back and laughed. “Not quite. I love being able to touch you and kiss you without thinking we’re doing something wrong. The other stuff is incidental.”
“You’re so badass.” Wiri swallowed another slug of the coffee with the last white pill. “You totally laid into her.”
Phoenix narrowed her eyes. “If the last few weeks have taught me anything, it’s not to let life walk all over me.” She shrugged. “You and I are inevitable.” Her fingers rested on his knee and stilled. “I’ll kill or be killed for you, Wiremu Du Rose. Get used to it.” Her expression clouded. “And don’t mess with me unless you want to spend life as a eunuch.”
The laugh exploded from his chest. It seemed years since he’d enjoyed any humour and it caused happy endorphins to release in his brain. A lightness of being shrouded him and his vision blurred. “Which pills did you give me?” he asked.
Phoenix shrugged. “Two of them are from the foil wrapper on the dining table. I found the others in your flatmate’s room.” She frowned. “I stripped off your bedsheets and dumped them on the floor. I don’t want that skank’s skin cells anywhere near my boyfriend.”
Wiri shuddered. “That’s beyond gross, Phoe.” He exhaled and a familiar mist descended over his thoughts. “I think you gave me the wrong pills,” he said. A blessed numbness snaked through his muscles and sinews, making him feel invincible. “This might not be good,” he sighed. He pushed his phone across the sofa cushion towards her. “Can you search for a contact named Larry and call him?” He blew out a ragged breath as the room tilted. “Why did you give me four?”
Phoenix shrugged. “Two of the ibuprofen and two paracetamol. You can do that because they’re different types of medication.” She smiled at him and winked. “I learned that on a first aid course.”
Wiri’s head moved up and down in a disjointed nod. “They weren’t ibuprofen,” he said with a sigh. “They were something else.”
Phoenix leaned back in her seat. “Why would you have anything stronger in your possession? Papa hates drugs.” She added Logan’s stance as though to punctuate her disgust. Wiri waved his hand in an ineffectual flapping motion.
“I don’t know what they are. The ones on the table came from the hospital after the fire brigade got me out of the water tank. If the others came from Jet, I could be in trouble.”
Phoenix gave a sharp inhale. “Fire brigade? Water tank?” She shook her head. “You have some explaining to do, young man.” She sounded just like Hana, her emphasis precise and comforting. She rose, her steps staccato against the floorboards. Wiri flopped back onto the sofa and watched the ceiling rose dive bomb him.
She returned, a worried look on her face. “I pulled the empty foil wrapper from the dustbin. Sorry, but the others from your flatmate’s room aren’t ibuprofen, Wiri. The outer cardboard said they were.” She swallowed, pushing her index finger between her lips and nibbling on the nail. “I’m sorry. I should have checked.” She closed her eyes and her body stiffened as she berated herself for her stupidity. “What should I do, Wiri? Can I phone for an ambulance?”
“No.” He turned sideways on the sofa. “I’ll be fine. Let me sleep for a minute. Call Larry.”
“Larry. Larry.” Phoenix retrieved his phone and unlocked the screen using the first four digits of her birthday. She scrolled through the list of contacts and found Larry’s. He answered after the fourth ring, his voice jovial and bouncy.
“Ah, Mr Kingii,” he said. Something clanged in the background and he sighed. “Sorry. Mrs Ropata just dropped her flower decoration. Can I call you back in a moment?”
“No!” Phoenix gushed. “I think someone tried to kill Wiri and now I’ve drugged him. Please, can you come?”
“Who’s this?” A business-like quality entered Larry’s tone, the humour banished.
“Phoenix. Phoenix Du Rose. He was in pain, so I gave him some pills from his flatmate’s room. I found some others in the kitchen and doubled up.” Her voice cracked. “He’s gone really groggy. What should I do? He doesn’t want an ambulance.”
“I’ll come now.” Breaths issued through the phone as Larry started moving. A door slammed, loud enough to be close. “I’ll be twenty minutes at the most. Try to read the packets and call me back when you have the names of the pills. What’s he doing now?”
Phoenix groaned and pressed her shaking fingers to Wiri’s forehead. “Sleeping,” she replied. “He looks peaceful. He’s smiling.”
“I bet he is,” Larry said with a sigh. “Okay. Find the names of the tablets and we’ll take it from there. See you soon.” He killed the call. Phoenix left Wiri and rounded up the various foil wrappers she’d purged in her bungled attempt to relieve his pain.
“Alprazolam,” she breathed, using Mac’s phone to Google the name on the foil packet from Jet’s room. She groaned as the Google search found its mark. “Sleeping tablets.” She gnawed on the inside of her cheek as she read the contraindications, trying to gauge if she’d given him enough to fell an elephant or not. “Please don’t die,” she whispered into the empty kitchen. “Please don’t let me kill you after only three kisses.”
