Phoenix (22 page)

NATALIE

ABOUT AN HOUR LATER,
I head downstairs, freshly bathed and wearing the teal dress. The coins sewn into
the hem jangle as I walk, making me sound more cheerful than I feel. Around my neck
is the gold pendant that Ash gave me for my birthday. My engagement ring hangs from
the chain, and I tuck it under the top of my dress, hiding it from view.

I find everyone in the kitchen, watching an SBN news report about Sigur’s capture
on Madame Clara’s old portable digital screen. I take a seat at the large oak table.
The kitchen is warm and inviting, with terra-cotta tiles on the floor and wooden cabinets
painted with colorful images similar to the mural in the hallway. Bunches of herbs
hang from hooks on the cabinets, while jars of tea leaves line the shelves.

Even though she can’t see, Madame Clara moves deftly about the kitchen as she prepares
a simple rice dish for supper, skirting around Lucas, who is sitting cross-legged
on the floor, tying a red ribbon to Elijah’s tail, which is already covered in gaudy
bows. Giselle laughs, shooing him away.

“Go play in the garden, you pest,” she says.

Lucas sticks his tongue out at her and runs to join the other children.

Giselle’s arms are laden with jars, and she places them on the table. She’s changed
into a tulip yellow dress that clings to her curves, and has tied some bright orange
feathers in her auburn hair. A purple bruise has started to form on her cheek where
the guard slapped her.

Ash sits stoically in the corner of the room, watching the news report. He raises
his eyes briefly as I sit down.

“They’re holding Sigur for questioning in Centrum,” Ash says flatly. “He’s going on
trial next week for his role in burning down Black City.”

“Well, he’s still alive. That’s good news,” I say, trying to see the positive side.
“Maybe Roach will send in a team to rescue him?”

“Don’t be stupid. They’re not going to rescue him. It’s too dangerous,” Ash says.
“He’s as good as dead.”

I bite back my reply, stung by his harsh words. Elijah quirks a concerned eyebrow
at me.

Giselle perches on the edge of the kitchen table beside Ash and begins writing some
labels for the jars filled with something that looks like ground peppercorns. The
gold rings on her toes glimmer as her foot keeps brushing up against his leg. Whether
it’s accidental or not, I don’t know, but thankfully Ash moves his leg away before
I lunge across the table and rip the feathers out of her hair.

Elijah unscrews the lid of one of the jars and sniffs its contents. His face scrunches
up.

“What
is
that?” he says, thrusting the jar into her hand.

“Ground-up night whisper,” Giselle explains, putting the lid back on the container.
“We mix it into our tea to help us relax. It’s quite potent, but my people have a
natural tolerance to it, so we don’t feel its effects as much as others. It just gives
us a nice, sleepy buzz.”

The digital screen beeps, and the Sentry crest appears on the monitor, with the words
NEWS FLASH
. Everyone falls silent as Ash turns up the volume.

“Citizens, we interrupt your program with an urgent newscast,” February Fields says.
“Reports have just come in that the traitor known as Phoenix has been killed during
a firefight in Iridium. Once again, the traitor known as Phoenix is dead.”

We’re all so stunned, it takes a second for the news to sink in.

“How can Phoenix be dead?” Giselle asks, confused. “You’re here.”

Ash groans slightly. “Oh no,” he mutters.

“Purian Rose will now make a statement to the nation,” February says on the digital
screen.

A moment later, Rose appears on the monitor. He approaches a podium on the Golden
Citadel balcony, which overlooks the city square in Centrum. The Sentry flag flutters
behind him. He’s dressed in his ceremonial robes, and although his eyes are stern
and fixed on the camera, there’s a barely disguised smirk on his lips.

There are cheers from the thousands of Sentry citizens congregated in the city square
below him. Many are wearing white Pilgrim robes, their heads cleanly shaved, but others
are dressed in the latest fashions—bright corset dresses and feathered hats for the
women, long tailcoats and silken waistcoats for the men.

Rose addresses the crowd, talking briefly about the dark times they have faced recently,
and saying that the time of hardship is over. The rebellion is defeated. The false
prophet Phoenix is dead. Ash was not immortal, he was not a messiah. He was just a
boy.

The image cuts to footage of the firefight in Iridium, which took place inside the
Darkling ghetto. It’s hard to see clearly through the smoke and rain, but even in
the poor conditions, you can make out the shape of thousands of bodies—Sentry, Darkling—piled
on top of one another where they were shot down. They weren’t lying when they said
it was a massacre. Suddenly a tall boy with black hair, an LLF jacket and Cinderstone
powder painted on his face runs into the frame. It’s Ash! Except I know it’s not him
at all. It’s Nick.

He charges toward a Sentry guard, who has his gun pointed at a woman’s head. I can’t
see her face, but the long ginger ponytail is unmistakable.

I gasp. “Juno!”

Before Nick can reach her, a bomb detonates. Dirt and gore explode into the air, showering
the battlefield in a rain of blood. When the dust settles, there’s a shallow crater
in the ground where Nick once stood. There’s nothing left of him to identify. Nearby,
Juno lies facedown in a pool of blood, unmoving, the Sentry guard clearly dead beside
her.

The footage cuts back to the city square in Centrum. The people seem stunned. Then
they realize they’re on camera and all begin to cheer again, as if on cue. Rose finishes
his speech, warning that his forces will not rest until all the remaining rebels have
been hunted down and captured. No one will threaten this great nation. The broadcast
ends with the Sentry crest and the words
ONE FAITH, ONE RACE, ONE NATION UNDER HIS MIGHTY.

We’re all too shocked to speak at first, saddened by Nick’s death and the certainty
that Juno is either dead or seriously wounded. It makes me worry about Amy and Stuart
as well. Did they make it out of Iridium alive?

Ash leans forward in his chair, hooking his hands behind his head. I want to comfort
him, but I don’t think my affections would be welcomed after what happened upstairs.

Elijah gets up. “Madame Clara, may I make a phone call? I want to check in with my
family.”

“The phone’s in the parlor,” she replies.

Elijah leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

“What’s my dad going to think?” Ash says quietly. “He’ll be so worried.”

“He’ll know it wasn’t you,” I reassure him. “He knew Nick and Juno were traveling
together.”

Ash scrapes his chair back. “I’m going upstairs.”

I stand up, expecting to go with him.

He looks at me coldly. “I don’t want any company.”

I flinch, but what did I expect? I really hurt his feelings earlier. He leaves the
room, shutting the door behind him. Giselle bounces to her feet and turns off the
digital screen.

“At least they think Ash is dead. That’s good news,” Giselle says. “They won’t come
looking for him in Thrace now.”

“Giselle!” Madame Clara chides. “That boy was their friend.”

Giselle bites her lip slightly. “Sorry. I don’t always think before I speak.”

“It’s fine,” I say, a little tersely. “Excuse me. I’m going to find Elijah.”

I stroll down the hallway, thinking about what Giselle said. I hate to admit it, but
in a small way, Nick’s death is good news. If those guards from earlier tell anyone
they saw him here, people will assume they were mistaken, since Purian Rose just proclaimed
that Phoenix is dead. I poke my nose into all the rooms until I find the parlor. It’s
a small but cozy room, with sumptuous pink walls and glimmering fabrics thrown over
the chairs and chaise longue.

Elijah is sitting on the window ledge, talking quietly on the phone. He seems agitated.

“I know what’s at stake . . . I’m being as quick as I . . .” Elijah runs his fingers
through his dark brown hair. He spots me by the doorway. “I have to go.”

He hangs up the phone.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Just my dad being a jerk, as usual.”

“I’m sure he’s just eager to get his hands on the Ora. We all are,” I say. “Has there
been any sighting of the Destroyer Ships near Viridis?”

“Not yet, thankfully,” he says. “I guess Purian Rose is waiting until they’ve collected
all the humans who voted no in the ballot first, and then he’ll add a new addendum
to Rose’s Law and come for us.”

I nod.
One thing at a time,
my father always used to say, and Purian Rose is a patient man. It’s not like a few
thousand Bastets pose much threat to him, so there’s no need to waste his resources
on them when he’s got his hands full with the rebel attacks.

We head back to the kitchen, where dinner is being served. I sit down as Madame Clara
scoops some rice into a bowl and places it on the table between us. I don’t have any
appetite.

Elijah starts serving us dinner, putting a few dollops of rice on everyone’s plates.
He catches me looking and immediately sits down, a deep flush spreading up his neck,
although I don’t know why. What’s he got to be embarrassed about? He was being nice!

“Elijah was telling us earlier on about the Tenth and your search to find his mother,”
Madame Clara says. “You think she was staying at a place called the Moon Star?”

“Yes. Have you heard of it?” I say.

“No, I’m sorry, my dear,” Madame Clara replies. “There are hundreds of taverns in
the city.”

“Their names tend to describe some distinctive feature of the building, though,” Giselle
chimes in. “For instance, the Scarlet Sun has a bright red sun painted on its door;
the Witch’s Hat has a roof in the shape of a pointy hat, that sort of thing.”

“Wouldn’t it be more convenient just to put a sign outside the building?” I say.

Madame Clara laughs. “Part of the joy is working out the name of the place. You get
one chance to guess the name. If you’re right, the barmaid gives you a free shot of
spiced Shine.”

“Isn’t the tavern’s name written on their tariff boards, though?” Elijah asks.

“Yes, but most merchants are either illiterate or too dimwitted by the pretty barmaids
to notice it,” Giselle says.

“The locals must get a lot of free drinks,” Elijah murmurs.

Giselle laughs. “We do. But in return, we bring merchants into the taverns and keep
them entertained, so they stay and buy loads of drinks. They nearly always end up
having to rent out one of the tavern’s rooms to sleep it off. So everybody wins.”

Elijah catches my eye and frowns. This is really going to slow down our progress.

I sigh, pushing my plate aside. “I’m going to look for the Moon Star.”

“Should we get Ash?” Elijah says.

“I’d rather he didn’t come,” I say.

Elijah doesn’t push it as we put on our hooded robes and head out into the city.

NATALIE

THE SUN HAS
STARTED
to set over the Mirror City, making the solar panels on all the rooftops shine with
amber light. Everything about the city is warm and inviting, with laughter and music
spilling out of the taverns, and children rushing through the streets, jovially chasing
each other. It’s so at odds with my mood. I keep replaying the image of Nick getting
blown up in my mind, and my stomach knots.

“Are you okay?” Elijah asks me as we turn down Saffron Street.

“No,” I admit.

“Giselle’s a nice girl, isn’t she?” Elijah says, clearly wanting to divert my mind
from thoughts of Nick and the others.

“Not really,” I say.

Elijah grins at me. “Jealous?”

“No!” I say, then look down. “Maybe. I don’t like how she looks at Ash.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it, pretty girl,” he says. “He’s famous now.”

A couple of merchants sing loudly as they pass us, their faces red from a mixture
of sunburn and drinking too much spiced Shine. I tug my hood lower around my face.

“So what’s going on with you lovebirds?” Elijah asks as we wander down the street.
“Things seemed tense earlier.”

“It’s nothing,” I say, then add in a rush, “We were kissing, and he wanted to take
things further, and I couldn’t because I’m sick, so now he’s upset.” I blush. It’s
really embarrassing talking to Elijah about my sex life, or lack thereof.

“Oh,” he says. “Maybe it’s time to tell him you’re—”

“Don’t even say it, Elijah,” I say.

“Natalie . . .”

“In the past year, I’ve lost everyone I love,” I say. “I’m not ready to lose Ash yet.”

“You’re being selfish,” he says. “And you’re hurting Ash by
not
telling him.”

“I know,” I whisper. “But I can’t let him go, not yet. I’m not strong enough.”

“Well, if you’re going to continue with this charade, then at least stop sending him
mixed signals,” Elijah replies. “It’s cruel to lead him on if you plan to leave him.”

I chew on my nail, saying nothing. He’s right, though. It’s unfair to give Ash hope
when there is none.

Elijah nods toward a nearby tavern with a green door made out of tree branches.

“Should we go in?” he says.

“We might as well start somewhere,” I say.

He holds the door open for me as we go inside.

The tavern is crammed with merchants from all walks of life—some wear fine silk shirts,
pocket watches and elaborate tailcoats, others are dressed in tattered rags, their
gnarled hands cupped around glasses of spiced Shine. But everyone is chatting and
mingling happily, like there are no differences between them. People barely notice
us as we walk up to the bar, keeping an eye out for the tariff board, but even so,
we keep our hoods low and heads bowed.

A curvaceous barmaid with wild curls of brown hair walks over to us. Her lips are
painted the color of copper, and her luminous hazel eyes are heavily circled with
Cinderstone powder. She’s wearing a typical folk dress, like mine, although she fills
hers out a lot better than I do—something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Elijah, given
the way his eyes keep drifting down.

“What’s my name, merchant?” she says in a thick Thracian accent.

Elijah spots the wooden tariff board by the stairwell. “The Olive Branch,” he says,
translating the Thracian name.

The barmaid beams and pours two shots of spiced Shine, then places them in front of
us. He picks up the glass of amber liquid. “To Nick and Juno.”

I hesitate, then raise mine. “Nick and Juno.”

We knock back our drinks in one go. I gasp as the choking heat scorches down my throat.
The taste is unpleasant, but the effect is immediate. Already I feel more relaxed.
It’s nice. It’s been such a horrible couple of days; I want to forget everything for
a few hours.

Elijah turns to the barmaid. “Do you know where we can find La Luna Estrella?”

“No, sweetie,” she replies. “But why don’t you stay here and have another drink?”

“Another time.” Elijah winks at her, then takes my hand and leads me out of the tavern.

She swears at us as we leave—this is not how the game is meant to be played.

We head into the next tavern a few doors down. This one’s the Yellow Duck. Another
dead end. We hurry to the tavern on the next street, then on to another, and another.
We visit over twenty bars in the space of three hours, only allowing ourselves to
have a drink at every fifth stop, but even so, I’m feeling a little lightheaded. It’s
nice.

I hook my arm through Elijah’s as we wander down the bustling street. No one pays
us much attention; Thrace is a city of strangers. I’m surprised there are so many
people out after dark, but I guess without any Darklings in the city, there’s no reason
for a curfew like we had in Black City.

We enter Thyme Plaza, which is smaller than Spice Square. In the middle of the plaza
is an ornate marble fountain, topped with a statue of two lovers entwined in an embrace.
A flock of pigeons nest at its base. They scatter into the sky as we pass by.

“Argh! Get them away from me,” Elijah says, swatting at the birds.

I don’t mean to laugh, but I can’t keep the sound from escaping my lips.

“It’s not funny,” he says huffily.

“I’m sorry,” I reply, plucking a gray feather out of his hair. “But honestly, what’s
so frightening about a
bird
? They’re cute.”

“No they’re not! They have these horrible, beady little eyes and disgusting clawed
feet.” He shudders, and I burst out into a fit of giggles again. “That does it,” he
says, grabbing me.

He tickles me until I can barely breathe.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I gasp.

He grins, releasing me. “There must be something you’re frightened of.”

“Yeah, Wraths,” I say, my voice cracking.

Elijah pulls me toward him, and I lay my head against his broad chest. “I’ll take
care of you, Natalie. You don’t have to go through this alone,” he murmurs.

His arms briefly tighten around me, and then he lets me go. I’m surprised at how quickly
my heart is beating.

“Let’s check out this tavern,” I say, indicating a building with a blue door.

We go inside. This time the barmaid is a blonde, with pale green eyes. Excitement
briefly bubbles up in me, thinking it could be Esme, but then I remember she’s in
a wheelchair and would be in her late forties or fifties by now, and this woman is
in her thirties. The barmaid walks over to us, and her smile falters. For a second
I’m worried she’s recognized us, despite our hooded capes. But then her smile returns.

“What’s my name, merchant?” she asks.

Elijah glances at the tariff board. “The Pink Apple.”

We’re rewarded with two more free shots of spiced Shine.

“We’re looking for a tavern called La Luna Estrella. Have you heard of it?” Elijah
asks her.

She shakes her head. Even if she did know the place, I doubt she’d tell us.

“Enjoy your drink,” she says, giving Elijah a flirtatious wink, which he returns.
For some idiotic reason, I feel jealous.

Elijah sits down and knocks back his drink.

“Shouldn’t we go to the next place?” I say.

“You look tired,” Elijah says.

“Oh, thanks,” I mumble.

“You know what I meant. We can pick up our search at first light.”

“Are you sure? I can carry on for a few more hours . . . ,” I say unconvincingly.
I’m exhausted.

He gives me a crooked smile, pulling back a stool for me.

I sit down. “Okay, just one drink, then we’ll go back to Madame Clara’s.”

One soon turns into two, then three, then four, and I’ve soon lost track of the time,
but it’s hard to care as the drinks keep flowing. I don’t even recall us ordering
them, let alone paying for them, but the barmaid seems happy to keep topping off our
glasses. Elijah keeps me entertained, telling me funny stories about his fishing trips
in Viridis and about his three brothers.

“So let me get this straight,” I say. “Acelot is your oldest brother?”

He nods. “He’s a decent guy. I’ve always liked him. Then there’s Donatien, who’s a
real
mommy’s boy, and finally there’s Marcel, my youngest brother. He is a total ass.”

“How come none of them are here, helping you find your mother?” I ask. “Aren’t they
worried about her too?”

“No, but she’s not their mom. Acelot, Donatien and Marcel are my half brothers,” Elijah
explains, knocking back his drink. He slams his glass on the counter. “Our relationship
is complicated.”

“I get it,” I say. “My mother cheated on my father, and Polly is . . .
was
 . . . my half sister.”

He gives me a sad smile.

The barmaid tops off our glasses again. She nervously glances over our shoulders toward
the door, so I turn around a little too fast, wondering what she’s looking at, and
nearly fall off my stool. I laugh as Elijah catches me.

“Okay, pretty girl. Time to take you home,” he says.

“Just one more drink?” I say.

“No, we’ve both had enough.”

I pout, and he grins.

“You’re going to regret this in the morning,” he says.

“I don’t care,” I say. “You only live once, right?”

I reach out for my drink. My hand pauses by the glass. The honey-colored liquid is
vibrating. My head snaps up, suddenly very sober. I’ve seen this happen once before
and know what it means. I strain my ears. Beneath the din of music and chatter of
merchants is the unmistakable hum of Destroyer Ships.

“We need to get out of here,” I say, pushing back my stool.

We race outside and instantly stop dead. Overhead, the stars are blocked out by the
outline of five Destroyer Ships hovering over the city. But that’s not what’s caused
the blood in my veins to freeze. Parked in Thyme Square is a Transporter. The hatch
door opens, and Garrick and the pink-haired Lupine, Sasha, step out, their steel-capped
boots clunking against the stone. How did they know we were here?
The barmaid!
She must’ve tipped the Sentry off. That’s why she kept plying us with drinks—she
was keeping us there until they turned up.

Garrick pulls up the collar of his gray coat and sniffs the air. His head turns in
our direction, his silver eyes glinting in the dark.

“Run!” I say to Elijah.

We race down a busy side alley and push through the crowd of people, bumping against
their shoulders as we weave between them at top speed. The world is a blaze of color
and glimmering lights, and my ears ring with the hum of music and Destroyer Ships.
Everything feels hazy, like I’m in a dream, but I know it’s just a side effect of
alcohol and adrenaline.

A man bumps into me and my hood falls down, but I don’t have time to put it back up
as Elijah drags me onward. More people spill out of the taverns into the street as
word gets around that the Destroyer Ships are in the city. Thankfully, they’re all
looking up at the sky rather than at the two of us rushing past them.

I risk a look over my shoulder. Garrick and Sasha are at the end of the street, scanning
the sea of faces for us. They both stand almost two feet taller than everyone else,
so they can easily see over the crowd. Sasha spots me.

“There!” she says.

They roughly shove some men out of their way as they race toward us.

People drag their eyes from the sky and, seeing the Lupines bounding toward them,
hastily get out of their way. Garrick and Sasha pick up speed, closing the gap. They’re
going to catch us!

A tavern door swings open, and a group of drunken merchants stumble out into the street,
blocking their path. The Lupines slam into the men. They all fall over into a tangled
heap on the ground, all shouting and swearing at each other. Garrick yells something,
but I don’t hear it as Elijah yanks my arm and leads me down a back alley. The passageway
is dark and quiet. Crates are stacked up against the buildings, and trash cans overflow
with garbage. He releases my hand and nimbly leaps up the crates onto the tavern’s
circular roof. I scramble onto the crates, and he hauls me up to the roof. My foot
skids on the slippery solar tiles, and Elijah grabs me just as Garrick and Sasha enter
the alleyway.

I clamp my hands over my mouth, trying to disguise my ragged breathing. The Lupines
wander down the alley, their noses in the air. They’re trying to smell us, but they
seem to be having trouble picking up our scent over the reek of garbage.

The solar panel under my foot starts to crack.

Panic pulses through me. If it breaks, I’ll fall.

The Lupines walk to the end of the alley, then turn back in our direction. The solar
tile fractures a little more, and my foot slips an inch. My heart leaps into my throat.
Garrick and Sasha are below us. Garrick peers through the window of the tavern, checking
to see if we’re inside.

“They’re not here,” he growls.

“Fragg,” Sasha mutters. “Let’s check the other alley.”

They leave the passageway and are soon swallowed up by the crowds on the main street.