Like he said he might be, Theo was gone when I woke up. But I knew by the indent next to me on my bed that he was there, and it wasn't all just some elaborate dream that my overactive subconscious had conjured up for me.
I spent the weekend doing homework and revision — as the teachers had been ramping it up as we neared the Year 11 Mock GCSEs. After the two weeks off that we had for Christmas, we had two weeks' worth of back-to-back mock exams.
I severely struggled to focus on anything when it came to revision. Usually, I did fine. But now, with a dozen other issues — most poignantly, the threat of the hunters arriving any day soon — whirling around my head, it was difficult to understand why x was worth finding, why the dates of battles were so important and why on Earth stock exchange rates fluctuated so goddamn much.
I doubted that Theo was getting much studying done either, what with Victoria hovering around and the hunters on their way. But, then again, maybe he was revising, as he hadn't texted me all weekend.
Speaking of Christmas, there's another pointless holiday, much like Halloween. It's only a good holiday if you're religious or a young child — once you're older it pretty much loses all its magic. And, being supernatural, I didn't think there was much point in looking for a god.
My mother strongly believed that Christmas time is family time, and that was the only reason we tried to make an effort. Though chances were, both my parents would be working throughout my entire two weeks off and only have Christmas Day off so they can make amends with family members. Not that they ever tried to make amends with me.
One of the best parts about Christmas was that I got to see my Uncle Rob. He was married to my mum's sister before she died. Like my mother, and now like me, my Auntie Hestia had the Phoenix. But it ended up killing her.
One hot summer afternoon, at their house in Bridstain — a big city about 30 miles south of Lake Oldoy, and an hour's drive — my uncle was trying to fix an old car of his when suddenly the diesel caught fire. The next thing that he remembered was my aunt pushing him out of the way, and she caught fire instead of him.
I don't know how long she burned, but instead of regenerating or healing when the flames had died away, the Phoenix kept burning, scorching her insides.
She died before I was born, but I think it was another one of the reasons my parents hated me having the Phoenix. But it was also the reason that I was given the middle name of Hestia — to remember my aunt.
My uncle then dedicated years of his life researching and following mythology to try and help supernatural people where he could.
The summer after I inherited the Phoenix, he took me to the small fishing village of Longyearbyen in Svalbard and began teaching me everything he knew, despite it being not much.
Uncle Rob was like a father to me — he did a better job of it than my actual father did. At least he cared. I wondered what Uncle Rob would think of Theo and the hunters. Though come to think of it, he'd probably ship Theo right back off to America.
Yeah, I think I'll avoid bringing up Theo whenever I next see Uncle Rob.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
