Phoenix

Page 38

“So how much are you going to get for me?” I ask Sasha. “I hope it was worth all the effort.”
She doesn’t say anything, just curls her bright pink lips.
The Transporter suddenly banks to the left, and I snatch a look out of the windscreen. The clouds disappear, making way for plumes of choking black smoke.
The aircraft descends rapidly, and the peaks of industrial buildings come into view, copper chimneys glinting as we pass by. We’re flying dangerously close to them, weaving through the buildings at breakneck speed, and I cling to my seat, terrified we’re going to crash.
“You all right?” Elijah whispers.
“Feeling a bit nauseated,” I admit.
“If you’re going to be sick, could you do it over your own feet this time?”
I laugh weakly.
We fly over a distinctive steel and brass wall, which I immediately recognize as the ghetto wall in Gallium. We’re in the Copper State!
“This is Alpha One, requesting permission to land,” Garrick says into his headpiece.
The radio crackles, and a moment later, a man’s voice replies. Something about it sounds so familiar, but I can’t place it over the static.
“You’re clear to land. Good to have you back, Alpha One,” he says.
The Transporter turns sharply to the right, missing a factory roof by inches, and lands in a massive courtyard outside a smelting works. Two of the Lupine pack remove the shackles around our feet, but leave the ones on our hands. The hatch opens, and we’re blasted with hot, stinking air.
We march through the courtyard into the smelting works and down a maze of metal walkways before we reach two enormous steel doors. They slide open, and I realize it’s an elevator.
“Where are you taking us?” I ask Garrick.
“You’ll see,” he says as the doors shut behind us and the elevator descends into the earth.
My heart is pounding a mile a minute, and my hands shake with nerves. I ball them into fists as Elijah slides a reassuring look at me.
The elevator slows to a halt, and the doors ping open. I blink against the bright fluorescent lights. We’ve arrived in a bustling subterranean railway network, with a vaulted copper ceiling about twenty feet above us, creating a surprisingly airy feel. Subway cars rattle by, transporting people around the enormous compound. Wide concrete platforms the size of a regular sidewalk run alongside the rails. They connect the metal-walled buildings and adjoining tunnels, giving the impression we’re in the center of a busy town. In fact, as we’re ushered down the sidewalk, I see a sign on the wall saying MAIN STREET.
Hundreds of people dash around us, wearing simple orange factory overalls with guns slung over their shoulders. Where are we? A petite black woman in her midtwenties, with waist-length cornrows and intense brown eyes, greets Garrick at the crossing of Main Street and Second Avenue. She gives me a quick smile. I vaguely recognize her, but I don’t know from where. What’s going on?
“They’re waiting for you in command central,” she says.
“Okay, Destiny, tell them I’ll be there in five. I’ve got to take these two to their rooms first,” he says.
He tries to grab my arm, but I yank it away from him.
“Don’t touch me!” I spit.
“She’s a feisty one.” Destiny winks at Garrick and heads off.
“This way,” Garrick says.
We’re taken down Second Avenue, past rows of green doors built into the corrugated copper walls. He stops in front of a door marked BUCHANAN. I glance at Elijah, who raises his brow at me. I have my own room? How long have they been expecting me? I’m more confused than ever.
He opens the door, and I go inside, knowing I have no other option right now than to play along. The room is about fifteen feet long, with a pair of bunk beds, a storage space built into the metal wall, a small desk, mirror and sink. There’s a vase of flowers on the desk.
Garrick removes the shackles from our wrists.
“Make yourselves comfortable. We need to debrief you in ten minutes,” he says, leaving the room.
The door shuts behind him.
Elijah sits down on one of the bunk beds and rubs his sore wrists. “What’s going on?” he asks.
“I have no idea,” I say, “but I’m starting to get a vibe they’re not intending to kill us.” At least, not yet.
I walk around our room, checking it for clues. There’s nothing to give any indication of who these people are. All I find is four orange jumpsuits inside the storage space. The whole setup seems very organized and professional, the kind of thing I’d expect the Sentry government to be involved with, although if this were a Sentry stronghold, surely they would have put me in a cell, not decked me out with my very own room. No, this all seems too . . . cozy.
“Is she here? Is she all right?” I hear a woman say outside the door. My heart leaps into my mouth, recognizing her voice but not quite believing.
The door bursts open, and a tall, thin woman wearing an orange jumpsuit stands in the doorway, her jet-black hair flowing in waves around her bony shoulders. She’s wearing a slick of bright red lipstick, which makes her alabaster skin look ghostly pale. Even so, she’s as beautiful as ever.
She stretches out her arms toward me. “My darling girl.”
I run into them. “Mother!”
I cling to her, and she folds her arms around me. The last time I saw her, she was being dragged kicking and screaming out of my prison cell back in Black City, after I was arrested for Gregory Thompson’s murder. She’s even thinner than normal, her bones jutting out through her jumpsuit. She pulls back and gently tucks an unruly curl behind my ear.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” she says. “But right now, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
I furrow my brow. “Who?”
“Hello, sweetheart,” a male voice says by the doorway.
I turn around.
A blond man stands in the doorway, dressed in a jumpsuit similar to my mother’s. His face is badly scarred, the flesh puckered with numerous bite marks and slashes, making it hard to determine his features. Even so, I’d recognize those bright blue eyes anywhere.
I rush over to him, tears spilling down my cheeks, and he pulls me into an embrace. That’s why the voice on the radio sounded so familiar.
It’s my father.
40.
ASH
I SIT ON THE EDGE of the harbor, overlooking the ocean, the rambling favela rising up the cliff behind us. Abandoned fishing boats bob up and down on the waves, the sound of their bells ringing hauntingly across the bay. I rub a hand over my face. I’m so goddamn tired. I haven’t slept in over thirty hours, since Garrick took Natalie.
Where has he taken her? Sebastian’s refusing to speak to me, which is hardly surprising, but even if he did talk, I doubt he’d be able to offer any clues to her whereabouts. He seemed as surprised as I was by Garrick’s actions. Sebastian is currently being held captive in the villa’s vault, until we decide what to do with him.
I shut my eyes and place a hand over my chest, feeling the thrum of Natalie’s heart beating in time with mine. She’s alive. I know that much. But that’s only a small comfort. They might be torturing, beating and abusing her this very moment. Pain grips my stomach, and I bend double, groaning. I couldn’t save her.
Acelot walks down the wooden walkway and sits beside me. He looks as exhausted as I do. He’s spent this whole time tending to the wounded Bastet guards and surviving senators, and assisting with the cleanup of the villa. We sit in silence, watching the clouds drift across the cobalt-blue sky. The color reminds me so much of Natalie’s eyes. I let out a shaky breath.
“Elijah will protect her,” Acelot says, reading my mind.
“What if he can’t?” I say. “I need to find her. I can’t just sit around here doing nothing when she could be . . .”
Acelot grips my shoulder as grief washes over me.
“Where do you think they are?” he says.
“Centrum would be my best guess. I think Garrick took them to the Golden Citadel to be interrogated.” It’s the most likely scenario I can think of. “I need to get there. Do you have any vehicles I can use?”
“We have the boats,” he says. “And there’s my father’s Transporter, but it’s pretty beaten up. Marcel took it out for a joyride a few months ago and crashed it, so it’ll need fixing.”
I nod. “Okay. As soon as it’s ready, I’ll head to Centrum.”
“It’s a suicide mission,” Acelot says.
“I know, but I’m going anyway,” I say. “Besides, I won’t be going in unarmed. I intend to find the Ora first; it’s my best hope of saving them.”
“Then I will come with you.” Acelot stands up. “I owe you, and Elijah, that much.”
We walk back up the cliff, to the villa.
The scent of death still lingers in the air as we head through the plaza. There are pools of dried blood on the mosaic tiles. The majority of the bodies have been taken to the local morgue, ready to be cremated, while those of the Consul, his wife, and their son Donatien have been taken to the family mausoleum. All across the city, black flags have been hung out of windows, in mourning for their lost leader.
Signs of the battle are visible all the way through the atrium into the senate chamber. The room is in disarray. There’s broken furniture, paintings are punctured with bullet holes, and the tapestry of the United Sentry States has been torn off some of its hooks, so it hangs at an angle. Marcel is slouched in his dad’s seat, the contents of my bag spilled out on the table. My mom’s diary is open in front of him, and in his hand is one of the photographs.
“That’s private!” I say, snatching it from him.
It’s the picture of my mom’s family in the forest.
“I’m bored,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.
My fangs pulse with venom. I don’t know how he can act this way, when half of his family has been killed. He doesn’t seem affected by any of it. There’s something not right with that kid.
Acelot grabs Marcel by the ear and lifts him off the seat. “Make yourself useful, and fix the tapestry.”
He lets Marcel go, and the younger boy bares his saber teeth at his brother.
We sit down while Marcel fixes the tapestry. I put my mom’s photograph on the table in front of me, studying the faces in the portrait. My eyes are drawn to Lucinda.
“So where will we find this weapon?” Acelot asks.
I look up. “It’s at a place called the Claw. It’s a mountain. Have you heard of it?”
Acelot shakes his head.
I sigh, glancing at the tapestry, wondering where it is. I know the mountain is close to Gray Wolf, so I locate the city on the old map and scan the surrounding mountains, hoping for some clues. My eyes snag on a familiar name: MOUNT ALBA.
I get up, confused. That can’t be right. The mountain in the tapestry has a sharp peak, but Mount Alba has a flat top, and it certainly doesn’t have any towns around it, like this map suggests. No one’s lived there since the eruption around thirty years ago. But then again, the map is old—it must’ve been woven a hundred years ago, long before Mount Alba last erupted and blew its top. I study the towns around the volcano, having never heard of any of them before—all the maps at school were modern ones, given to us by the Sentry government. There’s a place called Mountain Shade, and another called Carrow Falls, and—
My heart stops.
At the base of the volcano is a small town labeled AMBER HILLS.
I rush back to the table and snatch my mom’s photo. I turn it over, and check the scrawled writing on the back: The Coombes, Forest of Shadows, Amber Hills.
I flip it over again and study the picture carefully. My mom’s family is standing in a forest glen, and peeping through the trees behind them is Mount Alba, the way it looked before it erupted, with a sharp, talon-shaped peak.
The Claw.
It has to be! It’s the most significant mountain near Gray Wolf, where Lucinda and the others have gone, and it’s where my mom, aunt and Kieran first met. It can’t just be a coincidence. I feel certain this is where they were going to retrieve the Ora, before they went missing. It would’ve been the perfect place to build their laboratory too, as they’re familiar with the area and would’ve known it would be uninhabited for miles. This should be good news, but my stomach sinks. I stare back at the tapestry.
The last time I looked at a map of Mount Alba, I was at the Legion ghetto; Garrick was telling us about a deadly new concentration camp that the Sentry government had built at its base. I suddenly understand why Lucinda and the others haven’t been in touch. I know where they are.
I turn to Acelot.
“Get the Transporter fixed,” I say. “We’re going to the Tenth.”