Phoenix
Page 33

He holds me for a long time, maybe an hour, maybe two, until we both begin to shiver from the chilled night air. I rub my puffy, tearstained eyes and suck in a shaky breath.
“So what will you do now?” he asks gently.
“I’m going to head to Centrum to meet with the others, then find my mother,” I tell Elijah.
I’ve been thinking about her a lot recently. I’ve had this aching need to see her, to be comforted by her, to die in her arms. But I don’t even know where she is. She could be dead, for all I know, although I suspect if she were, Purian Rose would’ve splashed that all over SBN news.
“You can’t go now. What about the rebellion?” Elijah asks.
“The rebellion doesn’t need me.”
“I need you,” he replies.
My heart constricts. “Please don’t say that.”
I get up and Elijah springs to his feet. The Rainbow Forest is at the top of a steep hill, so we get a wonderful view of the city as we come down the grassy slopes. Thousands of solar panels glint in the moonlight, so the rooftops look like the stars above us. Even at night, the Mirror City lives up to its reputation.
The effect is slightly ruined by the Destroyer Ships hovering overhead, their searchlights scanning the dark streets. A light scans past the buildings on the rim of the city, illuminating their glassy roofs, and something catches my eye. I stop and blink, uncertain whether what I’m seeing is real or a figment of my imagination.
“Elijah, do you see it?”
“See what?” he asks.
I wait until the light passes the buildings again.
“There!” I say, pointing to a building with a star-shaped roof that tapers up into a steeple. At the top of the spire is a glimmering solar panel cut into the shape of a crescent moon.
“The Moon Star?” Elijah says, grinning.
I grab his hand. “Only one way to find out.”
33.
NATALIE
IT TAKES ABOUT AN HOUR to reach the point in the city where I think the Moon Star should be. We cling to the shadows, ducking between buildings as Sentry guards march by on their evening patrols. Thankfully most of the lights are off in the buildings, so apart from the occasional sweep of the searchlights, we’re covered by darkness. The streets are also empty, since many of the citizens have already left, having earned an Evacuation Pass. Those who remain stay indoors, hiding.
Overhead, the Destroyer Ships continue to hum, making the air vibrate. Once in a while, a Transporter streaks past, flying so low, it makes my hair whip around my face. It was risky coming down here, and I’m starting to regret it, but there’s no turning back now.
I glance at Elijah and see a light in his topaz eyes that hasn’t been there before. Hope. We wait for a platoon of guards to walk past before running across the street to the next alleyway. We dart between the buildings, using the narrow side alleys as much as possible to keep away from the Sentry guards. The coins on my dress jangle as I run, drawing more attention than I’d like.
“Wait,” I say, stopping to rip the coins off the skirt. They roll into the gutter.
Elijah glances over his shoulder suddenly and looks across the street.
“What is it?” I whisper.
He narrows his eyes, then shakes his head. “Nothing. I thought I saw someone, but there’s no one there.” We don’t hang around, in case someone is following us. We weave through the warren of side streets, heading deeper into the city.
“I think the tavern’s around here somewhere,” I say, scanning the skyline, in search of the crescent moon–shaped solar panel. I spot it peeping between the rooftops at the end of the road. “There!”
Like all the other taverns in the area, the Moon Star’s shutters are drawn, the lights off. It’s impossible to tell if anyone is inside. I try the handle on the ebony door. It’s locked. We circle the building, looking for another way in. Elijah pushes a trash can aside to reveal a trapdoor leading into the storage cellar. He yanks on the handle. To my relief, the trapdoor opens.
We hurry down a flight of creaky wooden steps into the basement, closing the trapdoor behind us. The storage room is damp and musty, filled with crates and wine racks. To our left is a steel service door, similar to the one at Madame Clara’s, while up ahead is the stairwell leading into the main bar. We pick our way through the clutter, trying our best not to hit anything, but Elijah’s tail accidentally sweeps past a wine rack, knocking a bottle onto the floor. It smashes.
“Sorry,” Elijah says.
“Do you think anyone’s home?” I ask.
“I don’t know. It is very quiet,” he says, frowning.
I follow him up the stairs into the bar. We’re immediately greeted by two rifle blasts, which miss us by an inch. Elijah and I both hit the floor, covering our heads.
“Who are you?” a woman’s voice says.
I risk a look up at our assailant, catching snapshots of her along the way: a pair of scuffed brown boots, patchwork leather pants, a blue corset blouse, a rifle. She’s sitting in a wheelchair. My eyes finally rest on her face. There’s no doubting the middle- aged woman looking coldly back at me is Esme.
“I’m Natalie Buchanan, and this is Elijah Theroux,” I say. “I believe you know his mother, Yolanda?”
Esme lowers her gun. “What are you doing here?”
We get to our feet, and Elijah briefly explains about Lucinda’s letter, and our search for Yolanda and Lucinda.
Esme rests the shotgun on her lap, grabs a bottle of spiced Shine and some glasses and wheels over to one of the round tables. We join her at the table, putting the oil lantern between us.
“Were Lucinda and Yolanda here?” I ask.
“Yeah, they were here.” Esme pours us all a drink. “Lucinda was on one of her mad rants, claiming she’d worked out a way to bring down Purian Rose, and needed Yolanda and Kieran’s help.”
“Kieran’s your partner, right?” I say.
She nods. “I begged him not to get involved. Lucinda’s a bit—” Esme taps her head. “You know? Especially after Niall died.”
I remember Sigur telling us about Lucinda and her Blood Mate, Niall, and how he died during their attack on the Black City water plant. I wonder if my father pulled the trigger.
“Kieran didn’t listen to me, but when it comes to Lucinda he never does. They go way back. The three of them went off on their mission, and left me here to tend the bar,” Esme says bitterly, taking a gulp of her drink. “I would’ve slowed them down anyway.”
She frowns, and I’m guessing it wasn’t her choice to stay.
A sound of footsteps outside the tavern draws our attention. Esme reaches for her gun, while we silently wait for the guards to move on. The footsteps fade as they turn down another street.
“Where are Lucinda and the others now?” I ask, once they’ve gone.
“I don’t know,” Esme says. “They were heading to the Claw—”
“The what?”
“It’s a mountain,” Esme explains.
I glance at Elijah, and his expression mirrors my own surprise. The Ora’s located on a mountain? But then thinking about it some more, it’s a good location for a rebel laboratory that’s storing weaponized yellowpox. It’s remote and unpopulated.
Esme looks down at her glass of spiced Shine. “The last time Kieran called, he said they’d reached Gray Wolf—”
“That’s in the Mountain Wolf State, isn’t it?” Elijah asks.
Esme nods. “But I haven’t heard from him since. That was nearly a week ago.”
“That’s around the last time my mom called me,” Elijah says.
He sinks his head into his hands, letting out a pained groan. Esme’s just confirmed our fears—that his mother and Lucinda have been captured, and by the sounds of it, Kieran too. Esme knocks back her drink, and pours herself another. I notice her hand is trembling. She must’ve reached the same conclusion as us.
Elijah raises his head.
“I’m going to rescue them,” he says fiercely.
“Good luck with that, darling,” Esme says. “They’re either dead or will be soon, once the Sentry’s got the information they need.”
“My mom won’t tell the Sentry anything about the Ora,” Elijah says assuredly.
Esme furrows her brow. “The Ora?”
“The weapon . . . ?” Elijah says.
Esme’s eyes widen. “Oh, do you mean—”
There’s a smattering of gunfire, and we duck for cover as the front door and windows are shredded with bullets. Glass rains down on me, ripping my dress and slashing my skin. I cry out in pain as a shard of glass digs into my left thigh. My head swims as I pull the glass out of my flesh. My teal dress instantly turns purple with blood.
“Stop shooting! I want her alive!” a voice shouts on the other side of the door.
Sebastian.
There’s a bang against the heavy oak door as the guards try to get in.
Esme picks up her rifle. “Get out of here. Take the service tunnel.”
Elijah helps me to my feet. His face is covered in blood, and there’s a gruesome gash in his cheek.
“What about you?” I say.
“I’ll hold them back for as long as I can,” Esme says. “Go!”
Elijah grabs the lantern on the table, then helps me as we climb down the stairs into the basement. I drag my left leg, which feels leaden and white-hot with pain, but adrenaline keeps me moving. We reach the cellar just as the front door bursts open.
“Where are they?” Sebastian’s voice booms through the basement ceiling.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Esme replies.
“Don’t give us that. One of my girls followed them here,” another voice says. Garrick.
So Elijah was right, someone was following us earlier.
I find the metal door leading into the service tunnel and twist the rusted handle. It doesn’t budge. Elijah has a go, putting all his strength behind it, and this time it turns. The door opens, and we’re immediately hit with a blast of cold, stagnant air.
“Get the hell out of my bar!” Esme says.
There’s a pop of gunfire, and Garrick howls in pain. All hell breaks loose upstairs. Bullets fly, glass breaks, bodies hit the floor.
Elijah shoves me into the tunnel, just as I hear Esme scream. He slams the door behind us.
“We have to help her!” I say.
“It’s too late,” Elijah replies. “Come on, we need to go back to Ash and tell him about the Claw.”
He’s right, this is too important. Ash needs to know about the location of the Ora. So many lives depend on us retrieving it.
I sling my arm over Elijah’s shoulder for support, grit my teeth, and run.
34.
ASH
EVERYONE IN THE CAMP has gone to bed, although I doubt anyone will sleep tonight. I sit alone on the fallen tree trunk beside the dying embers of the fire and stare at the engagement ring resting on my palm. It weighs barely anything, and yet it’s crushing me. After everything we’ve been through and all the sacrifices we’ve made, all it took was one kiss to break us. I close my fingers around the ring and throw it across the glade. It lands in some bushes. I regret it immediately and rush over to the bush to retrieve it.
“Couldn’t sleep either?”
I whip around at the sound of Giselle’s voice and nearly drop the ring again in surprise. I slip it into my pocket. Giselle stands a few feet away, nervously playing with one of the feathers in her auburn hair. She’s taken off her heavy makeup, and she looks much nicer without the thick eyeliner and metallic lips. Natural, beautiful. She seems self-conscious, though, unable to meet my eye.
“I thought you were in bed,” I say.
“I couldn’t drift off,” she says. “Guilty conscience, I think. I’m sorry, Ash. I shouldn’t have kissed you. Madame Clara says I have no impulse control, and I’m starting to think she might be right.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have let it happen,” I say.
Giselle sighs. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me sometimes. I always want the one thing that’s out of my reach, like if I get it, somehow it’ll mean I’m worth something. Does that make sense?”
I study her for a long moment, and for the first time, I see the real Giselle—an orphan girl shunned by her family, who has to steal to survive. I think about those men beating her in Spice Square, and how people just walked by, and I wonder how many times that’s happened before. She wears her confidence like makeup, to disguise the broken girl underneath.
“I get it,” I say.
My hair suddenly stirs, sensing blood. I whip around, just as Natalie and Elijah stumble out of the forest. They’re both drenched in blood, their clothes ripped and torn. The right side of Elijah’s face is swollen, while Natalie drags her left leg. I race over to them, my hurt and betrayal instantly pushed to one side.
“What’s happened?” I demand as Elijah helps her to the log. Natalie winces as she sits down, clutching her left thigh. Blood seeps between her fingers, igniting my thirst. I swallow it down.
Elijah gives me the highlights while Giselle goes to fetch Madame Clara. They soon return, carrying bandages and jars of herbal remedies. Giselle tends to the wound on Elijah’s face while I help Madame Clara with Natalie’s leg.
I roll up her skirt to reveal the gash in her thigh. Blood pumps out of the wound with every heartbeat, turning her white skin a gleaming red. I reach out a hand, intending to inspect the wound, but Natalie violently flinches away.