Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame

as Yaritza. Only ten times dumber.”
“Got it.” Twisting an arm around, Max grabs my wrist.
Cold crashes over me in a rush, cutting off my gasp, my sense of sound. My vision ripples as if I’ve been dragged under water. The street blurs past me. Camp’s form shrinks. Then we slam back into solid ground. Gasping for air, I stumble, kept upright by Max’s grip.
“That was...” I shake my head hard.
“I doubt as wild of a ride as when you went full phoenix on me.” Max grins, his hand still on my arm, my skin warming under his touch. “Good thing that cuff thing doesn’t block my magic, huh?”
I extract myself from his grip. “It can if I tell it to. But seeing as how you just helped...”
One of Camp’s spells crackles the air, and Max and I sprint for the bus station at the end of the block. We barrel onto the platform. Mere feet from the windows, the other bounty hunter jumps into our path. With a heavy shove, he sends me flying back into the street, seconds before a bus slams into me.

4.
I BURST BACK INTO EXISTENCE with a furious snarl, so angry I don’t even care about the trio of humans who just witnessed my death and naked resurrection. Morphing into phoenix form, I soar over the bus, and descend on Camp in a flurry of fire. The other bounty hunter flails as I claw at his face with my burning talons.
His stupid sunglasses skitter across the platform. Blood sprays through the air, rolling down his face. Squawking, I peck at any vulnerable bit of flesh I can find. He waves his arms, and the space around us ripples with power, building in strength until it rams into me. Sharp pain slices through every muscle. My phoenix form slips. I crash to the ground, human again.
Bloodied and burned, Camp creates a ball of electric energy between his hands. “Sorry little bird. It’s a race now with a real big reward at the finish line. Nothing personal. Just business.”
A stream of frozen water slams into Camp, throwing him into a wall so hard the entire platform shakes. With a sickening crack, his skull smacks the brick, and he slumps to the ground. I stare, frozen in place until his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he lays totally still.
“You okay?”
Gasping, I look up at Max. He stands about a foot away, chest heaving, hands on his knees. My brain refuses to accept the reality that he’s now saved me twice. Though he knows I’ll come back, he could have preserved his energy. Let Camp and me battle it out. Instead, he stepped in and fought.
It makes no sense unless it’s another manipulation.
I force my brain back into professional mode. “I mean, aside from being totally naked and down a bag of supplies, I’m doing okay. You?”
Max chuckles and pulls off his shirt. In spite of what he said before, it’s really not too shabby of a sight. Though definitely not ripped, he’s got a little definition under that smooth, brown skin. I take the offered piece of clothing, glad to have anything to cover up with, then let him help me to my feet.
“I’d give you my pants, but I’m wearing a thong.”
He winks and I’m so taken off guard, I spit a little as laughter busts past my lips. “Careful. I might make you prove it.” Chuckling again, I rub my temples and look around.
Thankfully, the bus that hit me didn’t stop, and of the three people sitting on the platform, two are very much drunk — heads cocked at funny angles in sleep — and one just blinks at us. The skin bunches between her thinning brows in confusion. I tug at the bottom of Max’s shirt. He’s a bit shorter than I am, but thank the Fates, longer waisted.
At bare minimum, it more or less covers what it needs to cover.
“Practicing for Mardi Gras?” she asks, with an accent straight out of South Louisiana.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “Big performance. Any feedback?”
“I wouldn’t go with the naked thing at the end,” the woman says. “Overdone. Got enough lady flashers as it is.”
I cover my mouth, and Max sways back with a laugh. “You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, huh?” he says.
“You know that’s right.” Abrupt as anything, she looks down at her cell phone, going right back to ignoring us.
Gotta love Bourbon Street. It’s one of the best places to hide paranormal activity. Most folks are so used to the weird they don’t question magic. Which is a very good thing, because memory wiping spells are not my forte.
Max turns that grin on me. “What’s the plan, mama? Can you magic up some clothes, and money, or are we going to have to panhandle for it?”
“Son of a yeth,” I curse, rubbing my temples with a groan. “Unfortunately, my magic isn’t quite powerful enough to create things out of nothing.”
Now what? Without my bag, I have no extra clothes, no phone, and no money. I glance at the woman. Maybe I could call Hank. With that guy’s hero complex, he never even puts his cell on Do Not Disturb. He’ll definitely answer. Even if the call comes from a stranger’s number.
Attempting a presentable smile, I sidle up to the woman who’d made commentary on our “Mardi Gras” performance. “Excuse me, could I borrow your cell?”
Lips pursed out in a funny little pout, she rolls her eyes slowly up to me. “You don’t have a phone?”
“It, uh, doesn’t work so well with our routine.” I widen my smile, glancing at Camp out of the corner of my eye, relieved to find him still there and unmoving.
“How do I know you’re not just going to run off with it?” she asks.
Fingers brushing my arm, Max leans forward with the kind of grin that sells cars and opens doors. “We promise, ma’am. It’ll only take a minute. We’d really appreciate it.”
“Mmhmm.” Her nostrils flare.
I crack