Phoenix (25 page)

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.

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.

“Don’t touch me!” she says.

“Christ, Nat. I’m only trying to help,” I reply, stung by her reaction. “I need to
check it.”

I reach out again.

“No, wait! Ash, STOP!” she cries out as my fingers touch her blood-soaked skin. “I
have the Wrath!”

I snatch my hand back. “What did you say?”

Natalie peers up at me, her blue eyes shining with tears.

“I have the Wrath,” she whispers. “I must have caught it from the Darkling boy who
bit me.”

“Are you certain?” I say hoarsely.

“I ran a test in the laboratory back in the Barren Lands.”

A low groan escapes my lips as I bend double, my body crumpling under the weight of
her words.
I have the Wrath.

Suddenly everything makes sense—the way she’s been pushing me away, the fact that
she hasn’t been able to hold any food down, the conversation with Elijah in the laboratory.
Somehow I find the strength to lift my head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I say.

“I wasn’t ready to lose you,” she says. “I’m sorry, Ash. I never stopped loving you,
I—”

I kiss her.

I put as much meaning in it as possible—I’m going to be there for her, she’s not alone.
She returns my kiss, wrapping her arms around me. My heart aches, with love, with
grief. I’ve got her back, but for how long? A week? A month? A year? We have no idea
how this disease affects humans.

“I love you,” I murmur against her lips.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” she replies.

“Me too,” I say, referring to Giselle. “But all that matters is that we’re together.”

I hold her hand while Giselle and Madame Clara patch up her leg. The wound isn’t as
bad as we first feared—it’s deep, but it didn’t hit the bone or any major arteries.
Once she’s bandaged up, I walk over to Elijah. He gazes at me, his swollen cheek covered
in a sticky-looking ointment.

“You’re taking the news well,” he says, glancing toward Natalie.

Grief aches through me. “I think I owe you an apology.”

“No, you don’t,” he says quietly. “I’ve overstepped the mark a few times myself. Sorry
about that.”

I sit down beside him. “So, you found Esme?” I say.

He nods, and tells me everything they learned.

“So the laboratory’s on a mountain near Gray Wolf?” I say.

Elijah nods. “I’ve never heard of the Claw before, though. Have you?”

“No,” I admit.

“It’s probably another nickname,” Natalie says, overhearing our conversation. “Like
the way Crimson Mountain is also known as the Devil’s Fork.”

“We should head to Gray Wolf after the attack tomorrow,” I say. “Someone might’ve
seen where the Sentry took your mom and my aunt.”

“Can we stop off at Viridis on the way?” Elijah says. “It’s only a few days away by
boat, and it’ll be safer than trying to take the roads. You can talk to the senate
about joining the rebellion while I gather supplies, and then we’ll continue on to
Gray Wolf.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, reinvigorated.

Elijah lowers his eyes. “Good; I’m certain my dad will be excited to meet you.”

I return to Natalie and scoop her up in my arms. I carry her to our caravan and gently
lay her down on the bed and help her undress. There’s a nasty purple bruise on her
shoulder, and her skin is covered in scratches.
Soon her skin will be rotting and covered in welts.
The thought hits me like a sucker punch, and I have to place a hand on the dresser
to steady myself.

“You okay?” Natalie asks quietly.

I nod, finding a shirt and passing it to her. Once she’s dressed, I take off my own
clothes and climb into the narrow bed. There’s not much space, so we’re pressed close
together. I wrap my arms around her, and she rests her head against my chest, her
fingers lightly tracing over my scars.

“I’ll understand if you want to leave me,” she says quietly.

I tighten my arms around her. “That’s never going to happen.”

“I’m really sorry I got bitten, Ash,” she says.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I reply, grief clawing its way up my throat. “Let’s not talk
about it anymore, okay?”

Natalie doesn’t protest. She nestles closer to me.

“Are you worried about tomorrow?” she asks sleepily.

“A little,” I admit, kissing her head again. “Try to rest.”

She shuts her eyes. It doesn’t take long for her breathing to slow down and deepen.

“Natalie, you still awake?” I whisper.

She doesn’t respond.

Only now that she’s asleep do I let the tears fall.