The Eternal Dusk (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Two)

by Victoria J. Price

  “I think you’re going to enjoy this,” Aidan laughed. “Now shut it.” He touched his torch to Alexander’s wing, just long enough to burn the feathers from the tip entirely. Alexander bit back at the pain as the stench of burning feathers and flesh permeated the air.

  Some of the other angels had recognised him, and they began to call out, their voices broken by sobs. Each one cut right through him.

  “Alexander!” an angel screamed.

  His heart sank. He’d never felt so useless, but there were too many witches, and with the talismans, Alexander saw no way out. An old witch circled the tree, anointing each of the twelve angels’ faces in what was most certainly blood, but from what or who Alexander dared not think.

  “You’ll regret this,” Alexander shouted, and again Aidan burnt more feathers, until they gave way to cartilage and bone. Still he would not cry out, instead he ground his teeth against the pain.

  The old witch was speaking, chanting, raising her arms to the night sky. The other witches were chanting too. The wind picked up, and embers from the batons were carried away into the breeze like floating fireflies.

  “Reveal yourself to us, Erebus. From the mystery of the infinite, return to us, take shape from your vapourless form, your eternal prison has been broken and so shall you break through, to command us in a new beginning, to utter unto us your first command,” the old witch cried out.

  A blinding spark flashed, and the great cedar went up in flames. The angels’ screams diminished to unrecognisable sounds as the flames consumed them, the old witch along with them.

  “No!” Alexander cried, turning his face away from the heat of the flames. Aidan laughed and whooped; another witch beside Halvar cheered.

  A fox leapt out from the bushes beside them, biting Aidan on the ankle. “Bugger!” he cried out, dropping his baton. “Get that bloody thing!”

  The three other witches surrounding them ran after it. Aidan pulled his hand away from his ankle to reveal blood glistening in the firelight and reached down to retrieve his weapon.

  But he was too slow. Free of the talismans, Alexander thrust his damaged wings out beside him, pushing Aidan off the steps with a cry.

  “We have to save them,” Halvar pleaded, but Alexander pulled him back.

  “They’re gone, we must leave,” he shouted, as a thundering roar filled their ears and a black vapour began to rush upwards from the roots of the cedar tree, entwining itself with the flames.

  “Now!” Alexander commanded, dragging Halvar behind him. “If you can, fly.”

  “Sire, I will not leave you,” Halvar replied as they ran into the darkness of the cemetery. Alexander’s wing was too badly burnt, he’d have to run if he wanted to live.

  “Erebus! Erebus! Erebus!” the witches chanted as the cedar tree and the angels burned behind them.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Aidan cried, and Halvar fell to the floor a few feet behind Alexander, but Alexander was ready for it and kicked Aidan hard, a foot connecting with a nose—crack. Aidan pulled his hands to his face, releasing Halvar with a groan. Alexander kicked again, hard enough to knock the wind out of the witch.

  “Go,” Alexander called.

  Alexander and Halvar ran through the darkness, tripping over crumbling gravestones until they reached the edge of the cemetery and a large pond lined by thick reeds.

  “Get in, hide,” Alexander whispered, and they waded into the water and ducked amongst the reeds, looking back at the last licks of flames from the cedar tree.

  Where it once stood rose a column in the darkness, rising high into the night until it reached beyond the clouds; it was a vapour, smoke and debris suspended in a tunnel of darkness stretching up towards the stars.

  “Is that…?” Halvar whispered.

  “Erebus,” Alexander replied, ducking lower into the reeds as two witches, batons blazing ran past the water’s edge. His heartbeat hammered in his chest. They’re dead because of you.

  “Did Fia send for you?” Halvar asked quietly.

  “No, no she didn’t, have you seen her?’” Alexander asked, trying to mask the panic in his voice.

  “An hour or so ago—she said she was going to go back for you, to get help. I was meant to meet her at dawn, but the witches found me.”

  Alexander was quiet for a moment. Had she already tried to go back? Or would he find her at home, pacing her flat? He thought of the piece of wing he’d found in Ohinyan and swallowed. “Thank you, Halvar. You and I need to split up if we’re going to get out of here.”

  Halvar nodded, and before Alexander could reply, he flew out of the water, shouting at the witches, calling their attention towards him and away from Alexander.

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” Alexander muttered, but waded nonetheless, out of the water and ran onto the heath.

  His bare feet carried him through street after street as his wings throbbed and ached until eventually, he reached a building he recognised. With as much strength as he could muster, he launched himself upwards towards the open window, falling in a heap onto the bedroom floor within. The room was empty. There was no sign of Fia. He fell heavily onto her bed and breathed in deeply. What if the witches had found her too? He touched his wing and winced from the pain. He wouldn’t be able to fly for a while. You should be looking for her. He couldn’t let himself believe they’d found her—and what interest would they have in her anyway? Fia had friends in Ohinyan. If she’d gone back already, she’d be safe. But how had she found a way back?

  Could they have just missed each other? And had Noor found her, or Arion? At least she would be safe from Erebus—he’d been a fool to think she’d be safe on Earth. Alexander jolted up at the thought, brushing dried mud from his bare chest.

  His wing stung. He didn’t try to touch it again, instead he inspected the patch where Aidan’s baton had pressed down on it and leaned back against the bed. It would heal. Vehicles moved on the street below, two voices said “good morning” to each other.

  Erebus was free. Neither Earth nor Ohinyan were safe. And Alexander had allowed it to happen. He pressed his palms to his eyes. At twenty-one, he was the youngest to lead the angels in all of Ohinyan’s history, and he wished more than anything that he’d had just a little more time with his father to learn some of his wisdom. To learn how to be the leader the angels deserved. But death waited for no one, Alexander knew that all too well.

  “Fia! Fia!” someone called her name, but Alexander couldn’t work out where the voice was coming from. He opened his eyes—it was light outside.

  “Fia!” called the voice again, followed by banging on the door. Alexander pulled a pillow over his head. She’d give up soon, whoever she was, surely.

  But instead Alexander heard a key turn in the lock, and the front door swing open. With a few strides she was in the bedroom, calling to Fia once more. “Come on, sleepy head, I’ve been calling to you for—” The woman stopped, stock still in the bedroom doorway, staring right at him, her mouth a perfect ‘O’.

  Jo. Fia’s friend. He recognised her from the hospital a few months back, when she’d looked right at him but said nothing. No one would have believed there was an angel standing at the end of Fia’s hospital bed, anyway.

  “You can see me?” he asked, peering out from beneath the pillow.

  “I can see you’re trying to hide very unsuccessfully under Fia’s pillow, if that’s what you mean,” Jo replied. “Wait… if you’re here, does that mean… oh God, is Fia… is she dead?” Jo ran to the bed and threw the pillow onto the floor.

  Alexander winced as he sat up, inspecting his damaged wing again. “No, she’s not dead. As far as I know. I really hope she’s not,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. He had to believe she was alive. “I’m Alexander,” he said, extending a hand. “Fia’s, um. A friend of Fia’s.”

  “Jo.” She shook his hand and eyed him suspiciously. “Kick-boxing tutor, friend, and boyfriend ass-kicker.”

  “And evidently you can see angel
s too.” Alexander replied, his mouth a firm line. “You watched somebody die?”

  “My father,” Jo said, twisting her set of keys in her hands. “I was nine, and no one believed me that an angel took him away. To be honest with you, as the years went by, I thought maybe I’d made it up, made myself believe that’s what happened. I mean, isn’t it what we all want to believe, that our very own guardian angel is waiting for us at the end?” She wiped a tear away and inspected Alexander for the first time. “You’re a mess. Oh shit, your wing,” she said, jumping to her feet.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’ve got something to do with Fia’s Kenyan retreat?” she called out as she ran to the kitchen, banging around opening cupboards. “You’ve got some explaining to do.” She returned with a glass of water, a metal box, and a note scribbled on a piece of scrunched-up paper.

  “Fia left a note. It says she’s gone on another retreat—I take it you know where she is?”

  Alexander frowned but said nothing, considering his words. Had they just missed each other by a few hours? What if the window had closed on her way back? He tucked the thoughts away—he couldn’t allow himself to linger on them for too long.

  Jo handed him the water and sat down on the bed beside him. “I can disinfect this and add some aloe vera gel to it to soothe the burn, but other than that I’m hoping you’ve got a serious restoration potion tucked away on you somewhere.”

  Alexander huffed a laugh and drank the water. He sat back and closed his eyes. Erebus was out there. The image of the twelve angels screaming and burning was imprinted into his eyelids. He shook his head as if to shake the thought away, but it remained. He couldn’t bring them back, but he knew he would do whatever was necessary to make things right.

  “It will heal in time,” he said. He wouldn’t be able to fly for a while though, which meant he was vulnerable to the witches and their talismans. “I come from a world called Ohinyan, parallel to this one. Our worlds are connected, in many ways,” he began.

  Jo listened carefully and quietly to Alexander’s explanation. He told her about angels’ duties to Earth and Ohinyan, about how he came looking for an auburn-haired girl who could unite the creatures of Ohinyan against an ancient darkness, and how even though he’d changed his mind, she’d followed him back into Ohinyan regardless.

  He told her everything, finishing with Erebus and the witches, up until he’d arrived in Fia’s flat as it was the only safe place he knew of. Was she safe? What window could she have gone through, and where would she have gone to first?

  “So, we’re not one hundred per cent certain Fia made it back?” Jo finally asked.

  “No.” Alexander paced the bedroom and rubbed at his neck. Fia could look after herself. She knew how to make a fire and a shelter; he’d seen her do it. She had to be okay.

  An animal cried out in the car park, a screech that pierced through everything. Alexander looked out the window. “I know that fox.” He darted for the door.

  “That’s actually the least weird thing you’ve said so far,” Jo replied, following him out.

  “Most people can’t see me, so try to be subtle, and keep up,” Alexander said, before sprinting off down the road after the fox.

  “Wait.” She finished the ‘t’ in a whisper. “I’m coming,” she muttered, close behind.

  The fox paused every few minutes to make sure they were still following, leading them along streets and through parks and down alleyways, until eventually he came to a derelict restaurant and trotted in through the open door.

  Alexander followed, just as Jo caught up with him. A bushy tail flicked at the back of the empty restaurant and disappeared through another door.

  “Wait,” Jo whispered, grabbing Alexander by the arm. “It could be a trap.” She grabbed an empty bottle from the bar, “I’ll go first.” She gestured for him to follow.

  Alexander nudged her gently aside, so that she was safely positioned behind him. “Absolutely not,” he whispered back.

  “Sire!” a voice called out as they entered the room. Golden eyes greeted them in the dim light.

  “Halvar, I’m relieved to see you well.” Alexander grabbed his friend by the arm and resisted the urge to hug him.

  “How many of you are there here in London?” Jo asked, walking around Halvar in awe.

  Halvar raised an eyebrow. “She can see us?”

  “It would appear so.” Alexander made a mental note to keep an eye on her. If she’d seen an angel as a child, it made sense to him that she was taking it all in her stride. Earth children were far more receptive to seeing angels than the adults. Still, it was very rare that humans could see them—and angels knew never to intervene in the lives of humans anyway.

  “Halvar,” he said, extending a hand.

  “Jo,” she replied with a smirk, shaking firmly. Alexander caught her eyes flicking appreciatively up and down Halvar’s frame.

  The fox screeched in the corner, as a human would clearing its throat. Beside it sat an exceptionally tall woman with hazel eyes and waist-length blonde hair.

  “Hazel. Thank you for sending him.” Alexander flicked his chin towards the fox. “We owe you our lives.”

  “Kit acts of his own accord. And two out of fourteen is nothing to be celebrated,” Hazel said solemnly. “But it is better than none.”

  Guilt knotted in his stomach. How could he have let this happen? “Hazel, who were those witches, what have they done?” Alexander asked. But he’d seen enough already to know the answer.

  Hazel gestured to the seats beside her. “You’re safe here, I’ve set wards around this building, no one will find you. Your friend too,” she said, patting the cushioned seat next to her for Jo to sit down. Kit sat upright on his hind legs without looking away from the door, like a dog on guard.

  “They are known as the Hermetic Order of the Eternal Dusk,” Hazel began. “You saw the sacrifice. Twelve angels, a crone and an ancient tree. Its roots are said to spread for many miles beneath London, harnessing a great power. Erebus is free. But the work of the Eternal Dusk has only just begun.”

  Chapter Three

  Erebus

  E rebus opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. A moment later he realised he didn’t have a mouth yet—not here, not in this new place.

  A roaring, rushing sound filled his ears. Darkness surrounded him like a pillar of smoke. The darkness was not unlike his prison, but then a rush of cool, crisp air hit him, and the pungent odour of fuel and refuse followed it.

  He reached out to touch his face, but flesh had not yet formed over bone, and he watched his hands in fascination as the skin knitted over and over itself—smooth and youthful. The white tattoo Terah had inked onto him aeons ago snaked its way up his arm and across his chest. He flexed his wings as the pillar of smoke carried him higher—wings his father had fashioned in Gabriel’s image.

  Erebus looked up, expecting to see a blanket of stars, but a soft glow from below concealed them. Beneath him sat strange brick buildings and metal vehicles—fast-moving lights flowing along intersecting ribbons of grey. Earth.

  He thrust his wings wide, stretched out into the edges of his new body as it took shape—a replica of his old body, delivered to him exactly as it had been before his imprisonment. He ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth, pulled his fingers through his hair and felt a laugh build up in his chest and erupt from his throat. His own laugh. Such a peculiar sound—nothing like the voice he had fashioned for himself from the shadows.

  The smoke began to disperse and beneath him were the smouldering remains of a tree, twelve dead angels and the body of a crone. Witches chanted and cheered, their batons pulsing above their heads as they called his name. These were not just any witches; these were his disciples.

  The moment his senses returned to him; Erebus could feel it—the one he was looking for wasn’t here.

  She’d already returned to Ohinyan.

  Chapter Four

  Fia

  T he tunnel w
as dark. The light from the basement—the basement back on Earth—was all that remained. But Fia couldn’t look back. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she used her hands to feel her away along rough rock. She heard Hazel slide the panel back onto the wall behind her, and muffled voices arguing.

  Her head was thumping. The thought of seeing Alexander again… A rock fell somewhere in the distance, it sounded small, like a stone against marble, just a single crack. But then more fell, and the crack turned into a rumble. Her heart was pounding as she ran, stumbling in the darkness over stones and into holes in the dirt she couldn’t see. The tunnel sounded as if it was collapsing, or was it the window? Whatever it was, she had to get out, quickly.

  Dust puffed up like clouds and stung at Fia’s eyes. She rubbed at them with the sleeve of her raincoat, but they were covered in the falling dust, too. The rumble deepened, and the ground beneath her shook. Larger rocks started to fall behind her, and she ran faster, tripping and falling heavily onto her hands and knees. Her bow fell from her backpack and she grabbed it quickly as she hauled herself back up, choking through the dust and holding her hands up in a vain attempt to protect herself from falling rocks. One hit her elbow with a thud, cutting right through her clothes to flesh and she cried out in pain.

  She felt her way around a bend in the tunnel and then she could see it, a few metres ahead—the dust glowing like a torchlight was shining into the tunnel. A way out. Fia ran towards the light, arms stretched out in front of her, afraid she would run headfirst into something—but it was too late, she was already falling.

  She landed face down, on both her good arm and her bad one. Dust and small rocks blew out around her into the clear night air, her bow and arrows clinked on the ground beside her. A shadow passed across her before revealing moonlight reflecting off the blood trickling down her arm onto her dusty hand. The tunnel rumbled again and Fia scrambled to safety behind a rock, just as the tunnel entrance collapsed completely behind her, rocks falling and sealing it off as if it had never existed.