Phoenix

Page 12

“Some of us actually paid attention in geography.”
“Oh, yeah,” Beetle mutters.
Ash furrows his brow. “Did you say Thrace was the Mirror City?”
“Yeah,” Day replies.
He jogs out of the room and returns a few minutes later carrying a leather-bound journal. He takes out a photograph and shows it to us. It’s a picture of two Darkling girls—I assume they’re Ash’s mother and aunt—standing beside a young barmaid in a wheelchair and a stunning girl with honey-colored eyes wearing a hooded green robe.
“That picture was taken in a tavern in Thrace,” Ash says.
“That’s my mom!” Elijah says, pointing to the girl in the green robe.
“Look on the back,” Ash says.
Elijah flips it over. “T4K, Thrace . . . T4K? The Four Kingdoms!”
Day looks at the photo. “Huh. I thought the Four Kingdoms were about uniting the four races, but there’s no Lupine in the picture.”
“Maybe the Lupine was the one holding the camera?” Ash suggests.
I take the picture from him. “Do you think this is where your mother has gone to meet Lucinda?”
“It’s very possible,” Elijah says, grinning from ear to ear.
“It’s not much to go on,” Ash admits. “I don’t even know the name of the tavern.”
“It’s more than I had yesterday,” Elijah says, looking at the young barmaid in the photograph. “She might know where my mom and Lucinda went to fetch the Ora.”
“So we have a plan,” Ash says. “We go to Thrace and find the barmaid?”
We all nod in agreement.
I look at Ash, and he returns a smile—we’re both having the same thought. If we can find Lucinda, and persuade her to give us the Ora, maybe we’ll finally have a way to bring down Purian Rose. I’m coming round to the idea of using the weapon against the Sentry, after they kidnapped my sister, bombed Ember Creek and then threatened everyone in Black City.
But first we have more pressing business to attend to.
I’m going to rescue Polly.
12.
NATALIE
I GLANCE UP at the sky toward the airship that’s been my sister’s prison for the past two days. Roselyn. It’s such a pretty name, considering what it is. Roach did a recon mission last night and worked out that our best shot of getting onto the Destroyer Ship is to board one of the Transporters parked on Union Street. Ash gives me a cuddle, kissing the top of my head as I try to calm my nerves. Polly needs me to be brave right now.
We’re hidden down a side alley, near Union Street. The city around us is in chaos. People are screaming and running in all directions; there’s a pop of gunfire every few minutes; and we catch sight of several Lupine packs stalking the streets, on the hunt for their next victims.
“Okay, let’s go over the plan one more time,” Ash says.
He goes through the plan again with Elijah and Stuart while Harold helps me with my robe, since my hands are shaking too much to tie the belt.
Elijah lets out a weary sigh.
“I’m sorry. Am I boring you?” Ash says.
Elijah shrugs. “A little.”
Ash glowers at him, opening his mouth to say something, but I shoot him a warning look. Elijah’s doing us a massive favor by helping us out today, and I don’t want to upset him, since he’s a key part of the plan. Ash relents, muttering curses under his breath instead.
Harold binds our hands with rope, keeping the knots loose enough for us to break free when we need to. Then comes the bit I’m really not looking forward to: he puts the burlap sacks over our heads. Immediately I feel suffocated and want to tear the hood off, but somehow I manage to restrain myself. Two small holes have been cut in the sack, so I can just about see what’s going on directly in front of me, which is better than nothing.
“This sack stinks of fish,” Elijah whines, his voice muffled.
“I thought cats liked seafood,” Stuart replies.
Nerves start to kick in, and I ball my bound hands into fists.
“Let’s do this,” I mumble through the sack.
Harold guides us to Union Street and herds us into the steady stream of people being ushered toward the prison Transporter Roselyn 401. Through the open hatch at the back of the ship, I can see long rows of metal benches with shackles to lock onto our feet. There’s only one window right at the front of the aircraft, so the pilot can see where he’s going. There’s a mesh grille between him and the prisoners for protection.
Four armed Sentry guards wait by the hatch, loading the prisoners onto the Transport and handing out Evacuation Passes to the traitors bringing them in. One of the guards, a slim man in his fifties with close-cropped silver hair, waves a hand.
“Next,” he says.
A man shoves two dark-skinned girls toward the aircraft. They can’t be more than seven and ten years old. Fury surges through me, thinking about what that man did to get hold of those little girls. Are their parents dead? The younger of the two girls trips, and he roughly hauls her to her feet. She starts crying. A smack across the cheek silences her, and it takes all my strength not to run over to that man and punch him in the face.
“Name?” the silver-haired guard says.
“Greer, Adrian,” the man says. “I brought a nipper here earlier today; it should be against my name.”
The guard scans the list and then shakes his head.
“That’s fragging ridiculous! I brought it here just three hours ago. Give me my Evacuation Pass!” the man yells, his face turning red.
“If you don’t shut it, I’ll hand you over to the Lupines,” the silver-haired guard says to the man.
The man storms off, escorted by two Sentry guards to ensure he doesn’t cause any trouble.
“Next,” the silver-haired guard says, bored.
We take another step forward, and that’s when I see him.
Sebastian.
I didn’t notice him earlier, because my hood blocks my peripheral vision. He’s carrying a handheld com-screen and is making a note of the prisoners as they board the Transporter, like we’re inventory.
“Harold—” I begin.
“I’ve seen him,” he mutters.
“Will he recognize you?”
“He’s only ever seen me without a beard, so I don’t think so,” Harold says.
I try to steady my growing nerves. There’s no reason Sebastian should recognize Harold, not dressed in Workboot clothes and wearing a full, gray beard. The line continues to shuffle toward the aircraft.
“Next,” the silver-haired guard says.
“Good luck,” Harold whispers as we step forward.
I can’t see Sebastian anymore, but I know he’s to my left. Every hair on my arms stands on end, sensing him. I can even smell his spicy aftershave; the scent brings back memories of our time in Centrum together, when we spent hours kissing on my bed. I push that revolting thought out of my head.
“Name,” the guard says.
“H—James,” he quickly corrects, trying to disguise his mistake with a cough. “James Madden.”
I daren’t turn my head to see Sebastian’s reaction to Harold’s slipup.
“How many are you transporting?” the guard says.
“Three,” he replies, giving our false names.
The guard checks the list and nods approvingly. He passes Harold an Evacuation Pass. “Enjoy your train ride.”
Harold mutters his thanks and turns to leave.
“Wait.” Sebastian’s voice comes from my left.
My heart flips.
“Can I help, sir?” Harold says.
“Have we met before?” Sebastian asks.
Panic rises up inside me, every instinct telling me to run. If Sebastian works out who we are, he’ll kill us, I’m certain of it.
“No . . . no, I don’t think so,” Harold says. “I work at Chantilly Lane Market. Maybe you’ve visited my stall?”
Silence from Sebastian. Then, “Let me see those prisoners. Take off their hoods.”
No, no, no, no, no!
“There’s really no need for that,” Harold says quickly.
The guard rips off Stuart’s hood. He looks fearfully from the guard to Harold. I’m so relieved Amy did some of her makeup magic and added fake bruises and cuts to our faces, to help disguise us. Good thinking, Amy.
“Been beating them up, eh?” the silver-haired guard jokingly says to Harold, assuming this is the reason he doesn’t want the hoods taken off.
“Yes, well, I had to restrain them somehow,” he says.
The silver-haired guard reaches out a hand and starts lifting my hood up. A million escape plans run through my mind as the material inches up my face.
“Don’t! She’ll bite your hand off, that one,” Harold says in a rush.
The hood is getting higher and higher. It’s reached my chin, lips, soon Sebastian will recognize me—
“Give me my fragging Evacuation Pass!” the man from earlier yells, running back toward us, the two Sentry guards racing after him.
The hood drops back over my head.
The silver-haired guard and Sebastian subdue the man while one of the other guards leads the three of us onto the Transporter, leaving Harold behind to watch us go. My heart is still racing. It’s as hot as an oven in the crowded aircraft, and sweat instantly rolls down my back as I sit on the metal bench. Our ankles are shackled to prevent us from trying to escape. The guard walks away.
“That was close,” Elijah’s muffled voice says beside me.
“Too close,” I mumble through my hood.
The little girls I saw earlier are sitting opposite me, and the younger one is crying again. Her sister attempts to console her, and my heart aches as I think about Polly and how she would comfort me when I was upset. I vow to free those girls if I can.
A moment later, the aircraft’s hatch is shut and the engines turn on. People start crying and wailing; some even pray as the Transporter lifts off. This will be the last time they see Black City. Their next destination will be their final resting place.
Two seats away, a skinny woman with strings of blond hair and the black veins of a Hazer is having a full-on hysteria attack, her screams filling the cabin.
“I’m not meant to be here! You’ve made a mistake!” she wails, even though the pilot isn’t listening.
The bumpy journey to the Destroyer Ship takes only a few minutes, but it’s enough to cause most of the passengers to throw up. The stench is unreal, and I only just manage to rip my hood off in time to puke all over Elijah’s feet. He tears off his hood.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a rush. As the Bastet Consul’s son, he’d be more used to girls throwing rose petals at his feet, not vomit.
He lightly takes my hands in his, startling me. His hands are so hot, the way mine feel after I’ve been warming them over a fire. The gold bands around his wrists glimmer, and I focus on them, finding it soothing.
“The air’s thinner up here. It makes everyone feel sick.” He inspects the mess splashed all over his feet. “Did you have carrots for breakfast?”
I laugh. It’s a bit of a hysterical sound, just like the crazy lady two seats down from me, but it’s just what I need to calm my growing nerves. I’m starting to think Elijah’s exactly the sort of person I need around me during a crisis.
We undo each other’s binds, then help Stuart with his, removing his hood in the process. Stuart and I take off our robes to reveal the Sentry guard uniforms hidden underneath, which Roach and Beetle managed to obtain for us last night. The two little girls stare at us with bug-eyed wonder. We wipe the makeup off our faces, and I pull back my hair so I look older and more serious. I shove the robes and spare hoods under the bench, tucking one hood in my pocket to use as a disguise for Polly.
“Elijah, if you’d do the honors,” I say, lifting up the chain shackling my feet to the ground.
He bites down on the chain with his saber teeth. It takes a few attempts before the links break and my feet are freed. He does the same with Stuart. Many of the prisoners are staring at us now. A boy around eighteen years old, with shaggy brown hair, alabaster skin and startling green eyes, leans toward me and shows me the Cinder Rose tattoo on his wrist. I show him mine.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Rescue mission,” I reply.
“Are you going to save us?” he says.
I nod, unable to say the lie out loud.
The sliver of light from the cockpit disappears as we enter the Destroyer Ship, plunging the cabin into total darkness. Now everyone begins to scream, yanking at their shackles. The Transporter judders as it docks in the Destroyer Ship. There’s a blast of cold air, and light floods the cabin as the hatch is opened.
We’re inside a cargo bay in the main envelope of the airship. I knew Destroyer Ships were big, but now that we’re inside one, I’m overwhelmed by its size. How are we ever going to find Polly in here?
A young male guard with slicked-back hair enters the cabin and stops when he sees me and Stuart. The name tag on his chest reads VICTOR. Blood pounds in my ears. The prisoners around us watch silently, but no one says anything to give us away.
“What are you doing here? This isn’t normal protocol,” Victor asks.
“We’re escorting this creature,” I say, pointing to Elijah. “It attacked one of the guards, so they told us to bring it up with the others.”
Elijah dramatically roars and snaps his saber teeth at Stuart.
“Get down,” Stuart bellows, slapping Elijah across the face.
Elijah’s golden eyes flash with genuine anger, but he sits down, playing along.