Phoenix

by Elizabeth Richards

  I turn off the digital screen, not wanting to see my sister’s image anymore, every part of me aching with grief.

  “Sorry,” Ash says, tucking the portable digital screen inside his duffel bag.

  I eat my bread, then rest my head against Ash’s shoulder. My eyelids droop as the train gently rocks, and I’m soon asleep, my dreams filled with red rooms, roses, and cities burning down.

  When I wake up, I’m drenched in sweat from my feverish nightmares. I blink the sleep out of my eyes, and check my watch. Nine o’clock! I’ve slept through most of the evening. I notice the black-haired girl isn’t in her seat. She must’ve gone to forage for more food, although didn’t Ash say they’d run out? Maybe she just wanted to exercise her muscles; I know mine are aching.

  “Hey, sleepy,” Ash says, kissing my burning cheek. He frowns. “You feeling all right?”

  I nod.

  A shadow flies past the window, catching my eye. “What was that?”

  “Probably a condor,” Ash answers.

  “What?” Elijah says, alarmed.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him.

  “Uh-huh,” Elijah says, his eyes fixed on the window. “I just don’t like birds. It won’t get inside here, will it?”

  Both Ash and I laugh.

  “It’s not funny!” he says. “Some people hate spiders, I hate birds. Get over it.”

  “Sorry,” I say, still laughing. “It’s just . . . you’re a cat . . .”

  He glowers at us.

  I force myself to stop giggling. “No, it won’t get in here, unless the bird somehow learns to open up the escape hatch.”

  Elijah looks up at the hatch in the roof.

  The carriage door opens and the black-haired girl walks down the aisle, empty handed, and takes her seat. I snuggle against Ash’s chest, not worrying so much about keeping up the pretense I’m a boy, since the black-haired girl beside us already knows the truth.

  I keep an eye on the window, not entirely convinced that what I saw was a condor—it seemed much too big—but I don’t see anything except a blur of stars. At first they’re just white smudges against the night sky, but they slowly begin to take form, their shimmering outlines becoming crisper. It could only mean one thing.

  “The train’s slowing down again,” I say, confused.

  “Are we in Georgiana already?” Elijah asks.

  I shake my head. “We’re over a day away.”

  “Maybe we’re stopping for more supplies?” Ash suggests.

  Another shadow passes the window, but I barely have time to register it before the carriage door bursts open and five Sentry guards enter, led by Neil—the shaved-headed guard I recognized earlier. The girl with the curly black hair stands up.

  “They’re over here,” she says, pointing at us.

  So that’s what she was doing earlier? Ratting us out to the Sentry guards!

  Neil draws his sword. “Halt! You are under arrest!”

  There’s a faint thud on the roof of the train.

  Ash pulls off his false veneers, revealing his fangs. Elijah bares his saber teeth.

  Neil takes a step toward us. “There’s nowhere to run. You’re completely—”

  The escape hatch above us is torn off its hinges.

  We all begin to scream.

  18.

  NATALIE

  THE WRATH GLARES DOWN at me with menacing yellow eyes, its fangs dripping with venom. Ash pulls me behind him just as the creature folds its wings and drops into the carriage, followed by two females. The male’s hands are covered in welts from the acacia wood, but he doesn’t seem to notice. The Wraths let out a terrifying howl.

  All the children around us stampede into the aisle, tripping over each other in their haste to escape, but the only door out of here is blocked by the Sentry guards who came to arrest us.

  The first Wrath—a gigantic creature over seven feet tall with strings of sticky white hair—grabs the black-haired girl and rips her head off in one gruesome movement, spraying hot blood over the carriage. Screams fill the air. The Sentry guards draw their swords and push past the children, knocking them out of the way as they approach the two female Wraths. The animals screech, baring their jagged fangs, and leap at the Sentry guards. Four of the men are felled within seconds, their bodies torn apart like tissue paper, so only Neil is left.

  “We have to get the kids out of here!” I say to Ash as the larger male Wrath drops the body of the headless girl and turns his focus on the group of children huddled by the door.

  Ash lunges for him while Elijah attacks one of the female Wraths, plunging his saber teeth into her jugular vein. She howls in pain before crumpling to the floor, dead. The other female whips her head around and fixes her yellow eyes on Elijah. She knocks over the skinny Sentry guard, Neil, with one sweep of her hand, making him drop his sword, and jumps at Elijah.

  There’s no time to think. I grab Neil’s discarded sword and thrust it into the female Wrath’s heart. Sticky, hot blood spills over my hands, covering them in red.

  “Thanks, I owe you one,” Elijah says breathlessly, but I barely register him as I stare down at my bloodstained hands. A memory of Gregory Thompson flashes into my mind. I killed him just like this, with a sword through his chest—

  “Natalie!”

  Ash’s gargled voice rouses me out of my stupor. The male Wrath has Ash by the throat. Reflexively, I swing the sword, slashing the Wrath’s arm. It lets Ash go, and he falls to the floor. I drop the blade and rush over to him while Elijah finishes the beast with a bite to the neck.

  The carriage falls silent.

  Neil shakily gets to his feet and surveys the carnage. His gaunt face and shaved head are splattered with blood. All his men are dead, but thankfully, only one of the children—the black-haired girl—was killed. He picks up one of his men’s swords just as running footsteps approach the door.

  Neil turns to me and holds up his sword. “Sebastian’s here to get you.”

  So that’s why the train stopped? I didn’t hear the telltale hum of the Destroyer Ship through the train’s armored walls.

  “Please let us go,” I say.

  His eyes flicker to the dead Wraths on the floor.

  “You know me, Neil. I’m not a bad person,” I continue. “We could’ve let them kill you all while we escaped, but we didn’t.”

  Doubt crosses Neil’s face.

  “Please,” I say.

  He lowers his sword.

  “Thank you.”

  Ash gives Elijah a boost through the escape hatch, then lifts himself through before stretching out a hand toward me.

  “Wait, your bag!” I say, knowing his mom’s keepsake box is in there.

  When I turn to grab his duffel bag, my eyes snag on the lifeless Wrath near my feet. My heart slams against my chest as I stare down at its dead, yellow eyes.

  Yellow, just like mine.

  Suddenly I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but listen to the blood pounding in my ears. I can’t have the Wrath. Can I?

  “Natalie!”

  Ash’s voice penetrates through my terror, dragging me back to reality. I pick up the duffel bag, then take his hand. There’s a moment of weightlessness as he lifts me through the hatch, and not a moment too soon: below, the carriage door bursts open and the guards spill into the cabin.

  Icy cold air instantly hits my skin as I step onto the train roof, chilling the sweat soaking my body and clothes. My father once told me how deathly cold it gets in the Barren Lands at night, but I didn’t truly understand what he meant until now. High above us in the moonlit sky is the Destroyer Ship, its engines omitting that low, ominous hum. I hope it’s too dark for them to see us without its searchlights on. Parked across the railway tracks is a Transporter, blocking the train’s path.

  “Where are th
ey?” Sebastian says, inside the train carriage.

  “Escaped during the Wrath attack,” Neil replies.

  There’s a disgruntled growl. Garrick.

  I hand Ash his bag, which he slings over his shoulder, while Elijah gracefully leaps off the train, landing silently on arid earth. Ash carefully passes me down to Elijah, whose warm hands accidentally slip underneath my jacket as he takes hold of me. His calloused fingers slide over my stomach, making every part of me suddenly hot. The instant my feet touch the ground, he lets me go, and I hastily readjust my jacket, embarrassed. He looks away. There’s a soft thud as Ash’s boots hit the sand. His fingers entwine with mine, then we’re running, running, running, as fast as our feet can carry us, trying to get as much space between us and the train as possible before they come after us.

  It’s so dark, I’ve never known blackness like it, and I’m running blind, trusting Ash to keep me safe as he steers us past jagged boulders and thorny desert plants that threaten to trip us up.

  “Over there!” Ash says, pointing toward something I can’t see—it’s just black on black—but I know what he means: the canyon I saw out of the train window.

  “We can’t jump off a cliff!” I exclaim.

  “I wasn’t suggesting that,” Ash replies. “There’s a horse trail over there. We can follow it down the ravine to the riverbed.”

  “Are you mad? It’s too dangerous,” Elijah says.

  Behind us, the Lupines cry out. They’ve caught our scent.

  “We don’t have any choice,” I reply.

  Adrenaline’s the only thing keeping me going as my shinbones splinter with every footfall, pushing my body to its limit as we approach the cliff edge.

  “They went this way,” Garrick calls out.

  The canyon is getting closer, closer. We’re running too fast to stop.

  “Ash, are you sure there’s a path?” I say, panicked.

  “Trust me.” Ash turns sharply to the left, bringing us with him.

  I see it! The trail entrance is just visible between the prickly brush and rocks—there’s no way you’d notice it unless you knew it was there or had great night vision like Ash. The track is steep and narrow—probably only a yard or so wide, with the jagged cliff face on our left side and a sheer drop on our right. We take it fast, too fast, and the gravel shifts under my feet. I fall. My heels frantically dig into the loose dirt as I slide down the trail, rushing toward a sharp bend in the path. I cry out in fear, knowing there will be nothing but air to greet me, followed by certain, horrible death.

  A hand grabs my collar and drags me back just before I fall over. Elijah smirks at me, his dark hair falling around his boyish face.

  “We’re making it a habit tonight of saving each other’s lives,” he says, helping me to my feet.

  “Thanks,” I reply.

  Ash pulls me into his arms, holding me tight. “Fragg, fragg, fragg, I thought I’d lost you.”

  A bloodcurdling scream suddenly pierces the air, and we all look up to see the shadow of a Lupine tumbling over the edge of the cliff and into the abyss below. A moment later, there’s a bone-shattering crunch as his body hits the rocks. The other Lupines manage to skid to a halt before they follow him over the edge, kicking sand and grit into the ravine. I spot Garrick at the top of the cliff, silhouetted against the iridescent moonlight. He sniffs the air, then walks in our direction. He’s spotted the path, but thankfully not us yet. We shrink into the shadows.

  The female Lupine with pink hair joins him.

  “They’ve gone this way,” Garrick says.

  “Well, let’s go after them,” she replies.

  Garrick flashes a look over his shoulder at the Lupine in a red leather frock coat—I recall Garrick referring to him as Jared at the train station. There’s a pause, and I hold my breath. Then:

  “No, it’s too dangerous. We’ll track them at first light,” Garrick says.

  “But—”

  “That’s an order, Sasha,” he says.

  “The boss won’t be pleased,” Sasha says as they trudge away from the cliff edge.

  I exhale. Thank heavens it’s dark; otherwise, they certainly would’ve come after us.

  Ash leads the way as we cautiously head down the path, which thankfully gets wider after the first mile. Large rocks and boulders from an old landslide litter the trail. This slows down our progress but, on the plus side, offers us some much-needed cover. The air gets colder the deeper into the ravine we go, and my teeth soon begin to chatter. I’m just glad I’m wearing these woolen clothes, although I’m sure I won’t be so thankful for them tomorrow when we’re out in the blistering heat. I rub my arms, trying to get some warmth into them. A moment later, something slides over my shoulders. Elijah’s coat. I peer over my shoulder at him.

  “You’ll freeze,” I say.

  He shrugs. “Don’t worry about me, pretty girl.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “No problem. If it gets too cold, I’ll just ask for it back,” he adds.

  I roll my eyes.

  Above us, the Destroyer Ship circles the canyon, its searchlights scanning the deep ravine for us. We duck every time the light swoops near us and try to blend in with the surrounding rocks and desert shrubs. I’m hopeful they won’t be able to spot us since they’re so high up and we’re all dressed in dark clothing, although Ash’s blond wig might draw some attention to us.

  “Ash, your wig,” I say. He yanks off the hairpiece and tosses it over the edge of the trail, raking his fingers through his rippling black hair before quickly removing his blue contacts. The transformation from Human-Ash to Darkling-Ash is instant, and I much prefer this version: dark, deadly and breathtakingly beautiful. Elijah takes this opportunity to remove his own disguise—a cap and glasses—and tucks them into his pocket.

  We hike all night. Progress is slow going for the first few hours, as we have to time our movements between the sweeps of the searchlight, but as the night draws on, the Destroyer Ship moves away, looking for us farther up the canyon. Halfway down the trail, we stumble across the Lupine’s body. My stomach churns at the sight of his broken, contorted limbs. I catch Ash holding his breath, struggling with his hunger.

  “Maybe you should take some of his blood,” I say quietly.

  Elijah curls his lip, and I shoot him a warning look.

  Ash hesitates, but his hunger wins out. He kneels down and dips his fingers in the pool of blood, bringing it to his pale lips. He tentatively tastes it, then gags, wiping his hand on his pant leg.

  “Sour,” he says.

  We leave the dead man and carry on down the path. By the time we reach the river at the base of the canyon, the pink hues of dawn have begun to rise over the valley. I yawn. I’ve never felt so exhausted, both physically and mentally, as my thoughts keep wandering back to the same topic: the Wrath.

  Have I really got the virus? I think about the Darkling bite on my leg. It can’t cross species. I don’t know that for a fact, though, and I have been feeling sick lately. But if I am infected, why has it taken so long for the first symptoms to appear? The Darklings in Black City who contracted the Wrath began showing symptoms within a week of infection, so why is it different for me? Is it because I’m human? Will I get any sicker?

  Am I going to die?

  The thought hits me so hard, I stop walking, and Elijah bumps into my back.

  “Oww,” he says, rubbing his nose.

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  Ash turns around to see what the commotion is about. Worry must be etched all over my face, because a crease forms between his brows.

  “You okay?” he says.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I say, not wanting to worry him. I don’t even know if I am infected. It’s just a hunch. Now more than ever, I wish my mother were here. She may be a little blunt and clinical when it comes to emot
ional matters, but that’s what I need right now—someone with a clear head who can tell me everything is going to be okay. Where are you, Mom?

  “So what’s the plan?” Elijah says.

  “Keep walking until it gets too hot, and then find somewhere shaded to hide,” Ash says. “As soon as night falls, we’ll climb out of the ravine and hike into the nearest town.”

  “Maybe we should go back to Dusty Hollow,” I say. “At least we know where that is.”

  “No!” Elijah says. “We have to keep moving forward. If we go back, it’ll add days to our journey.”

  Ash looks behind us, and I follow his gaze. The Destroyer Ship is heading upstream, in the direction of Dusty Hollow.

  “I think they’re expecting us to go there,” Ash says.

  Elijah starts walking. “Then that’s settled. Onward it is.”

  Ash catches my eye, giving me a worried look. I know what he’s thinking. Once we head out of the ravine tonight, there won’t be anywhere to hide. If we don’t find a town before dawn, then we’ll be in serious trouble.

  We trudge through the canyon, our spirits low. Thrace feels like a million miles away, the Ora so far out of our grasp. We follow the path of the rushing river, which carves through the ravine, occasionally wading into the shallows or briefly splitting off in different directions to throw the Lupines off our scent when they eventually come after us.

  The sun continues to rise over the canyon, lifting away the last tendrils of night and turning the cliffs a burnt shade of orange, the river a brilliant turquoise. Beneath the clear waters, hundreds of small shadows dart about. There’s a surprising amount of life around here. Lizards bask in the sun, rattlesnakes slither between the rocks, condors glide across the sky. Elijah flinches every time one flies overhead. Nearby, a herd of wild horses drink by the river edge, their chestnut tails swishing as they swat at mosquitoes. The sound of our footsteps makes them look up, and they immediately gallop away, kicking clouds of dust into the air behind them.

  As the heat intensifies, I shrug off Elijah’s coat, handing it back to him, while Ash pulls out a black cotton scarf from his bag—the type the Legion guards wear in Black City—and wraps it around his head and neck, so only his sparkling eyes are visible. He must be uncomfortably hot, but he can’t risk exposing his skin.