Built into the cliff face is a sprawling city, which reminds me of the famous favelas in the Southern States. The hundreds of blocky, rose-hued buildings with flat roofs are packed so closely together, it’s impossible to tell where one house ends and another begins—they all appear to be part of the same organic structure. Crumbling stone steps zigzag through the favela, toward the main city at the top of the cliff. What really takes my breath away is the waterfall that cascades down the middle of the city, spraying clouds of mist into the air.
“Pretty impressive, huh?” he says, smiling.
Once we’re safely docked, Elijah turns off the engine and lowers the anchor. We put on our hooded robes, collect our bags and follow him up the steep pathway through the favela, climbing an endless number of steps. My injured leg throbs with the effort, and we have to stop every few minutes so I can rest. Ash takes my bag from me and slings it over his shoulder, along with his own bag. The street is so narrow in places, you can touch the crumbling walls of the buildings on either side of you if you stretch out your arms.
Ash and I keep our hoods low over our faces, so the passing Bastets don’t recognize us, although they’re not paying any attention to us—they’re more interested in Elijah, who is strutting around like he owns the place. I suppose he sort of does—he is the Consul’s son.
The farther we go through the city, the more I notice how impoverished it is. Many years’ worth of graffiti is scrawled over the houses, quite a few of which are on the verge of collapsing and are being held up by the buildings around them. Paint peels off the doors and windows, and the sinking roofs have been crudely repaired with whatever material is at hand—cloth, sheet metal, wood.
Elijah leads us through a network of side streets and up more steps, until we reach an enormous plaza. The ground is made of thousands of tiny, colorful mosaic tiles, which form a dizzying geometric pattern.
Up ahead is a sprawling villa, made of the same rose-hued stone as the rest of the buildings in the city. It looks centuries old, its walls cracking and flaking; part of the west wing is falling down. It’s not exactly the embassy I was expecting.
“Home, sweet home,” Elijah mutters.
We enter the villa through the arched doorway into the atrium. The long hallway is cool and airy, thanks to the vaulted glass ceiling. On either side of the atrium are four closed doors, while directly in front of us is a set of large rosewood doors. I can hear voices on the other side.
The foyer is devoid of sculptures or paintings, but there are several large, freestanding cages around the room, filled with small red birds with thin, forked tails. They’re incredibly pretty, but they could be venomous snakes, given the way Elijah looks at them. The birds let out a terrible screeching cry as we walk past them, and Elijah quickly whistles a four-note tune. The birds immediately stop squawking.
“What sort of birds are they?” I say, my ears still ringing.
“Siren birds,” he replies. “We use them to alert the guards to intruders.”On cue, two Bastet guards rush out of one of the side rooms, their rifles raised. Both men are packed with muscle and are wearing matching outfits—dark pants, leather vests, black boots, and gold bands around their wrists—the exact outfit Elijah wore the night he turned up at the Ivy Church, which I find odd. They lower their guns when they see Elijah.
“Is my dad in the senate chamber?” Elijah asks.
One of the guards nods, and they beckon us to follow them. They open up the large rosewood doors at the end of the corridor, and we enter a spacious, airy room with arched windows and jade pillars holding up the vaulted ceiling, which has been painted to look like the sky outside. Hanging from the back wall is an enormous tapestry of the United Sentry States, which is old and out of date.
Around the chamber are a dozen armed guards, who have their guns trained on us. They’re here to protect the people sitting at the circular table in the center of the room. At the head of the table is a middle-aged Bastet man, with thick russet hair, full lips and dark spots down the sides of his face. There’s no doubting he’s Elijah’s father, Consul Bezier Theroux. He’s smartly dressed in a hunter-green tailored frock coat, with a copper and gold embroidered vest, white shirt and silken cravat.
Beside him is a beautiful but stern-looking Bastet woman, her long brunette mane carefully teased into ringlets. She’s wearing an amber-colored bustle dress, with delicate beading down the bodice. The markings on her face are much lighter than Elijah’s dad’s markings, and I’m guessing this is Rowanne, the Consul’s wife. To her left are three teenage boys, who must be Elijah’s brothers, based on his descriptions of them.
Acelot, the eldest and tallest of the brothers, is the spitting image of his father, with the same russet mane and fierce eyes. He’s dressed more casually than everyone else, in a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a cobalt green vest and black pants. His younger sibling, Donatien, is so skinny, he shrinks inside his expensive clothes. Finally, Elijah’s youngest brother, Marcel, slouches in the seat farthest from his father. He’s immaculately dressed, like the Consul, and is startlingly attractive, with lips as sensuous as Elijah’s, razor-sharp cheekbones and beautiful dark-brown markings down the sides of his face and neck. The whole effect is ruined, though, by the arrogant sneer on his lips.
The other nine senators—five men, four women—wear either frock coats and frilled shirts like the Consul, or bustle dresses similar to Rowanne’s, but in varying jewel colors.
Elijah bows. “Father, I’ve brought you Natalie Buchanan and Ash Fisher.”
Bezier gives Elijah an approving look. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to persuade them to come. I underestimated you, son.”
Elijah beams, as if he’s been paid the greatest compliment. “Thank you, Father.”
Marcel rolls his eyes.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Consul,” Ash says, bowing slightly.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” Bezier smiles, but there’s something unsettling about the gesture.
“I don’t see your mother,” Rowanne says to Elijah. “Does this mean you’ve failed to retrieve the Ora?”
“Yes, but I know where it is,” Elijah says in a rush.
She sighs heavily, and turns her honey-colored eyes toward me and Ash. They have none of the warmth of Elijah’s. Hers are cold, calculating, just like my mother’s.
I nervously clear my throat. “Elijah asked us here to speak with the senate.”
“We’d like you to consider joining the rebellion,” Ash continues. “With your support, we can—”
Bezier raises his hand, cutting Ash off midsentence.
“We know why you’re here, but I’m afraid we’re not interested.” Bezier smirks at the senate. “As if we would ever side with the Darklings.”
All the Bastets laugh, except for Elijah and his eldest brother, Acelot.
I turn to Elijah. “What’s going on?”
He flicks a remorseful look at us just as the Bastet guards rush at me and Ash.
I realize now we weren’t here to persuade the senate to join the rebellion.
Elijah’s led us straight into a trap.
38.
ASH
THE GUARDS GRAB US, pushing us roughly to our knees. The bags fall off my shoulders, spilling their contents across the stone tiles, including my mom’s keepsake box.
“Get off me!” I growl.
“Call the Sentry guard,” Bezier orders.
“Elijah, stop this!” Natalie pleads.
He doesn’t look at us as he leaves the chamber, shutting the doors behind him.
I struggle against my captors, but they’re too strong. They roughly pin me against the stone floor.
“Take them down to the vault and tie them up until our guests arrive,” Bezier says.
“Father, must we really do this?” Acelot interjects. “They’ll
be killed.”
“That’s not our concern,” Bezier replies. “It’ll prove to Purian Rose that we are loyal to him.”
“Until we get hold of the Ora, at least,” Rowanne adds.
Bezier smirks. “These two will buy us some time.”
The Bastet guards drag us out of the room. The siren birds squawk at us as we’re hauled across the atrium and down a flight of stone steps leading into the basement. I twist around to make sure Natalie is okay. She kicks, spits and scratches at the guards, even managing to bite the hand of one of them. In retaliation, he punches her, knocking her unconscious. Venom floods my fangs, and I thrash some more, but it’s hopeless.
The vault is cold, damp and dark, with stone pillars holding up the domed ceiling. A few torches light the chamber, casting long shadows over the walls and sodden earth. They bind my hands and ankles, then chain me to one of the pillars before doing the same to Natalie. She’s still unconscious, her head drooped. There’s a lump on her head where the guard hit her.
The instant the Bastets leave, I try and free myself, but the binds are too tight.
Natalie’s eyes blink open, and she groans.
“Where are we?”
“In the basement,” I say.
“You take me to all the best places,” she replies.
“I’m going to fragging kill Elijah when we get out of here.”
Natalie sighs. “I can’t believe I fell for his lies. I feel like such a fool. He’s been manipulating me this whole time, making me feel sorry for him, making me trust him.”
“He conned us both,” I say.
“What do you think is going to happen to us?” Natalie says quietly.
“I think Rose will have us tortured, then publicly executed,” I admit. There’s no point in sugarcoating this.
“That’s what I thought,” she says.
Time seems to pass slowly down in the vault. Every minute stretches into an hour; every hour feels like ten as we wait for the Sentry to arrive. I spend most of my time trying to free myself from the chains until I’m exhausted with the effort. It’s no good; the binds are just too tight. I let out a frustrated howl. We’re never going to get out of here. Natalie just stares off into the distance, subdued and tired.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Not too good,” she admits.
The door to the vault opens and Acelot appears, carrying a tray of food. There’s some soup for Natalie and a glass of blood for me.
“What’s this? Our last meal?” I say to him.
He gives me an apologetic look. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“I’d rather starve,” I spit.
He puts the tray down on a nearby wooden crate and scratches the back of his head. He seems nervous. Acelot’s much taller than Elijah, but less broad in the shoulders. At a guess, I’d say he’s about nineteen years old. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and his nails are bitten down to the quick.
“I’m sorry about this,” he says, gesturing toward our binds. “For the record, I don’t agree with what they’re doing.”
“Then why are you going along with it?” Natalie says tiredly.
“Because we don’t have much choice. When we found out about the Tenth from Lucinda’s letter, we knew it was only a matter of time before the Sentry came for us.” Acelot perches on the edge of the crate, his tail brushing against the dirt floor. “Elijah told us what he’d discovered about the Ora. The senate saw the opportunity to get their hands on a powerful weapon to defend ourselves with, but we needed a backup plan.”
“Let me guess; you’re intending to hand us over to the Sentry in return for your lives?” I say.
“Pretty much,” Acelot admits.
I shake my head disbelievingly. “You’re fragging crazy if you think the Sentry’s going to agree to those terms.”
“I’m not convinced they will, but we don’t have many options,” Acelot replies.
“You could’ve joined the rebellion,” I say.
“That’s what I wanted.” Acelot sighs. “I just couldn’t persuade the others to work with the Darklings.” He leaves the tray and heads upstairs, briefly pausing on the steps. “I truly am sorry.”
The door closes behind him. As soon as he’s gone, I slump my head back against the pillar, my temples throbbing. I shut my eyes, trying to block out the headache.
* * *
The sound of siren birds wailing wakes me up. I blink a few times, trying to adjust to the dark, and glance over at Natalie. I don’t even remember drifting off. How long have we been asleep? She turns her head toward me.
Overhead, we hear footsteps marching through the atrium toward the senate room.
They’re here.
Fear spikes in me.
“Ash!” Natalie says, hearing the footsteps too.
“I won’t let them hurt you,” I say.
There’s a clamor in the senate room above us. Chairs scrape back. Footsteps march across the room. I recognize Garrick’s distinctive gait.
“Where are they?” he says gruffly, his voice muffled through the ceiling.
“Downstairs,” Bezier replies.
“Go get them, then,” Sebastian orders.
More footsteps cross the floor. Shortly after, the door to the vault opens, casting a shaft of sunlight into the room. I expect the Bastet guards, but instead Elijah appears. A set of keys jangle around his shackled wrists. He hangs his head slightly as he stands in front of us.
“How could you betray us?” Natalie says.
He raises his eyes. “What would you have done in my place? I was just following orders.”
“You make it sound like you didn’t have a choice in this,” she says.
“I didn’t!”
She fixes him with a hard, unforgiving look.
“I didn’t,” he insists, subconsciously playing with the gold bands on his wrists. Bands just like the ones the guards upstairs wore.
“You’re a servant,” I say, understanding.
Elijah nods slightly.
“So Bezier isn’t your father?” Natalie says.
“He is,” Elijah says. “But when Rowanne found out about his affair with my mom, and that they’d had a kid, she demanded that I work as their servant, to punish my mother.”
“Is this the bit where we’re supposed to feel sorry for you?” I say.
“No,” Elijah replies. “But maybe you can understand that I didn’t have a choice. He’s the Consul; I have to follow his orders.”
Natalie rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You were just trying to impress him.”
Elijah flushes.
“We could have helped you,” I say. “With the Ora, the rebellion might have succeeded. Now there’s no chance. You’ve condemned us all.”
Elijah sits down on the damp earth, his shoulders slumping. “I’m so sorry.”
“Pardon us if we don’t believe you,” Natalie replies.
“I mean it,” he says. “I care for you. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Give me a break,” she says. “It was all make-believe.”
“It wasn’t! It isn’t,” he says. “I wanted to confess to you a million times—”
“Then why didn’t you?” she challenges.
“I thought I was doing the right thing for my people,” he says.
Natalie glares at him.
“And I wanted to impress my dad,” he admits.
“I’m glad that worked out well for you,” I retort, looking at his gold shackles.
He rubs his wrists, a frown on his lips. “I did hope—”
“What? That your dad would suddenly accept you into the family if you delivered me and Natalie to him? You’re an idiot,” I reply. “You’re not even a person to him. You’re just a tool to be used and tossed away when
he’s done with you.”
Elijah rakes his hands through his mane. “I don’t want it to end like this.”
“It doesn’t have to. You can release us,” Natalie says.
“I can’t—”
“You owe me,” Natalie says. “I released you from the Sentry HQ, remember?”
“Sebastian will kill my dad and brothers if I don’t hand you over,” he says. “You know he will.”
I glance at Natalie. I have to get her out of here; it’s her only chance to live.
“Leave me behind. I’m the one Sebastian wants anyway,” I say to Elijah.
“Ash, no!” Natalie says.
“Please, Elijah,” I say. “If you truly care about Natalie, then set her free.”
Uncertainty crosses his features.
“Please,” I say.
In the room above us, I can hear Sebastian and Garrick pacing around the senate room, getting impatient. Elijah looks up at the ceiling, then at Natalie. He briefly shuts his eyes, clearly conflicted. Finally, he gets up and unties her. Relief crashes over me; there’s a chance she’ll escape, a chance she’ll live. That’s all I need to keep me going.
“Thank you,” I say to Elijah.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, surprising me by removing my binds. “I still have to get you both out of here.”
I scramble to my feet, confused about why he’s letting me go.
“Why are you doing this?” I say to him.
“Because someone has to save my people,” he says. “And I don’t think my father’s the man to do it. Promise me you’ll protect them.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?” Natalie says.
He shakes his head. “I need to stay and defend my family.”
“You’ll be killed,” she says.
A sad smile crosses his lips. “Don’t worry about me, pretty girl.” He looks at me. “Do you promise?”
I clamp a hand on his shoulder. “I promise.”
We race up the stairs into the atrium, but skid to a halt as we spot the two Bastet guards from earlier, patrolling the corridor. They’ve got their backs to us, so they haven’t seen us yet. We quickly slink back into the shadows just as one of them peers over his shoulder. My muscles tense, waiting to see if he’s spotted us. My body relaxes when he turns away.
Phoenix Page 28
