“I can fight, you know.”
He smiled. “I don’t doubt that.” He left his bag by the fire and wandered into the forest, leaving Fia to her thoughts.
The firelight flickered off the trees and cast eerie shadows around her. What I wouldn’t give for a soft bed right now. But she was alone and on solid ground; she couldn’t sleep. Her mind wouldn’t settle, and her thoughts were racing over and over. In the quiet of the night, that familiar sense of panic took hold like ice in her stomach. The memory of Arion, slick with blood, plummeting towards the cliffs. Not knowing if Alexander was alive or dead, if she’d ever see him again. She rubbed her palms against her knees and began to count her breaths.
May as well count breaths productively. Fia matched her breathing to her hands as Dante had shown her and closed her eyes, focusing on the space between her palms. One. In. Two. Out. Three. In. Fou—her stomach grumbled, loud enough that she was certain anyone walking by would have heard it. Dammit. I bet Terah never had this problem.
She thought of Terah and Erebus together, of Terah creating and giving. Could a Makya truly be kind? Fia had met Par, the Makya council leader, and she seemed fair and just.
Terah was more than just an ordinary Makya. Gaia, Dante had said. Mother nature. And she loved Erebus. How he was made from circumstance. Fia sighed. Whatever the prophecy said about her, it felt like she couldn’t be further from achieving it. Her stomach grumbled again. “Right, that’s it,” she said to the empty forest.
She shrugged off the fur and stepped around the fire to Dante’s pack. If he’d left it behind, he wouldn’t mind if she looked for food, would he? Fia pulled out rolls of bandages, a water canister and—something sheathed in cloth. She glanced around, listening carefully. No sign of Dante. She unwrapped the fabric and her breath caught in her throat. My dagger. Had he found it on the cliffs? He’d found her bow, hadn’t he? It wasn’t so strange that he’d found the dagger too—but why not mention it when she spoke of it? Why keep it a secret? Fia tucked the dagger in her boot, trying not to think about how the mercenary had used it to kill Arion. She dug deeper into the bag. A few rolls of the leaf they’d been eating wraps with and—a mobile phone.
Nausea washed over her. What was he doing with a phone, here? I didn’t grow up with the angels. That’s what he’d said. Had he grown up on Earth? How much of what he’d said had been a lie? She shoved the phone into a pocket.
I have to leave. Now. But to where? Where was there to go? They’d followed the coast all the way here. The only place she could head for was the open ocean. It has to be now before he comes back.
Fia pushed herself to her feet and grabbed the wingsuit. Her arms trembled with exhaustion and her fingers fumbled over the straps. She’d have to leave the fur, but she clipped her bow and her backpack to her belt. The water canister. She grabbed the canister and shoved it into her bag and without hesitation, pushed off into the night, making her way to the cliffs. At least she could sit there and think, at least she could shelter out of sight.
The sea air hit her the moment she breached the canopy, and the sparkle of water in the moonlight was already visible. She flew down beside the cliff, the wind almost knocking her into the rocks as she searched for a place to hide. There. An opening in the cliff face below.
Her heart thundered against her chest as she touched down in the cave, pacing to think. Now what? How long could she fly before she crashed into the ocean? How long could she survive without food and a fire? A shimmer of light caught her eye as she paced, but she ignored it, it was just the moonlight on the water, rippling with the waves. But there it was again, brighter this time.
Fia stopped pacing and scanned the horizon. There. A ship. A ship with a flag—with the symbol of Ohinyan.
Chapter Nineteen
Fia
F ia flew in the direction of the ship, choking back a sob. A bird flew towards her in the moonlight, long, white wings beating against the air. A Nord?
“I’m a friend of Maab’s,” Fia called out.
The bird cawed in reply. Fia’s heart sank. Not a Nord. But then it said, “Wait here, I cannot grant you passage yet,” in the familiar Nordic lilt, and Fia felt a flurry of hope.
She held her position in the air, so close she could see Maab on the deck. The bird landed and shifted into a woman, her long hair covering her bare chest. Maab glanced up to Fia and waved her over.
The moment she landed, she unclipped the suit, almost tumbling as the weight of it fell from her shoulders. “Maab, I’m so glad to see you.” She ran to him and gave him a tight hug, her backpack and bow bouncing between them.
Maab stiffly patted Fia on the back. “It is good to see you too, Fia. I see you have much to tell me.”
She didn’t care if he was uncomfortable from the hug. It was so good to see a friendly face. “You could say that. But why are you here, so far north?” she asked, finally peeling herself away and looking up at him. He had the wildness of a tiger, even as a man.
“We’re on our way to Djira. Runa and Malachai asked to meet us there. We were to join you and Arion.”
Fia paled at Arion’s name. It’s your fault he’s dead. Just like Enne’s death was your fault too.
“Fia?” Maab held a gentle hand to her shoulder. “Osara, help me get her inside. Have someone bring the wings.”
“They’re heavy,” she mumbled, as she let Maab and Osara, the woman who had been a white bird moments before, lead her below deck. Someone had handed her a dark blue robe, and Osara had already tied it at the waist.
“Arion’s dead, Maab. We were attacked, he was—there was a lot of blood. He fell to the cliffs, I was taken.” Fia began to cry and wiped furiously at her tears. Not in front of Maab. Not after his mate had died because of her. Every time she thought of never seeing Alexander again it snatched the air from her lungs. What they’d shared—the way he’d watched over her for so long, she didn’t know how Maab could endure a loss like that. How he could get through each day.
Maab and Osara led her into a room with a wide bench against one wall and sat her on it. “What do you mean you were taken? Explain.” Maab made his way to a desk and returned with a pitcher and a mug. “Drink this. It will warm you. Osara, please bring a blanket.”
Fia was vaguely aware of someone leaving the wingsuit in the room and walking off. She was staring at the mug, at her hands, willing herself not to launch into a full-blown, sobbing panic attack. Osara returned with a blanket and draped it around her shoulders.
“Thank you,” Maab said softly beside her.
Fia drew in a deep breath. “We were flying from Estesh to Ashar. He came out of nowhere, wearing the wings and he attacked. As soon as Arion was dead, he took me to some caves and then…” She paused to take a swig from the mug. It was like spiced rum and warmed her throat, but she couldn’t help the cough that followed. “Then something in the caves made the guy who took me—he ran off, and I stole the suit and I—” What? Got rescued by an angel who might possibly be another traitor? You can’t tell him that. You can’t tell anyone. “I left him behind, and I flew. I was just resting in the cliffs when I saw the ship.”
The lie came out so easily. But how could she tell Maab the truth? Could there have been an explanation for Dante having her dagger… and a phone, from Earth? His father was an explorer, maybe he just liked Earth things and had the phone as a keepsake? But the dagger—why hadn’t he told her he’d found it? It didn’t make any sense. She took another swig and thought of Alexander. Please be alive.
Maab was quiet for a moment. “Arion will be remembered. We will honour him.”
Another cough escaped her as the liquid burned her throat. So much death. “Have you heard anything from Alexander?” What if everything Dante had told her was a lie?
“I’m sorry, Fia, no one has.”
She tried to picture Alexander in London. Had he found Halvar? Had the Earth witches taken them too? Her breath caught in her throat again, only this time it wasn’t fr
om the drink. “How does the missing him… how does it not drown you?” Fia looked at Maab and examined his face. Waves of silver hair reached his shoulders and his eyes were the palest shade of green. To anyone else, he might seem cold or unfeeling, but Fia knew the depths of his love. He was young, and Nords were strong, Fia knew that, too. But being young and strong didn’t erase the pain of losing someone.
“Because if the choices are drown, or fight and push my way to the surface—which do you think Enne would tell me to do? To tell both of us to do?”
“He's dead because of me,” she said softly, tracing her thumb over the rim of the mug.
“He died to save you, Fia, he knew what he was doing.” Maab held a hand to her shoulder. “When you and I are gone, when our names are thought of for the very last time, this will still matter. It is a Nord belief.” He gestured to the wingsuit, but Fia knew he meant the prophecy, the dying sun. “Enne knew that. You should know it, too.”
This time she couldn’t stop the tears falling. She let them stream down her cheeks and didn’t bother to wipe them away. “You and your sayings.” She tried to laugh, but it came out wrong. “Arion said something like that too. I guess it must be an old thing here. He said what we achieve can never be lost, or something like that.”
“And he was right. No matter what happens, our actions matter. How we choose to go on in difficult times will make a difference, whether we know it or not.” He stood up and walked back to the desk. “Would you like to eat something before you sleep? We can talk more in the morning.” He waved a hand to his desk. “There’s bread and cheese here. I’m afraid I don’t have a spare bed to offer you, but my office will be your private space, no one will disturb you here.” He looked at the wingsuit for a moment and Fia was certain he was going to ask more—like how she could use it, but instead, he paused by the door and said, “Goodnight, Fia, get some rest.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and with that, she was alone. Fia grabbed the bread but left the cheese and pulled the container of water from her backpack. Oren was working with Lorn… could Dante be working with her? “No, that’s ridiculous,” she said quietly to the empty room. “Now you’re just being paranoid. And talking to yourself.” But why heal her if he was going to lie? Maybe he didn’t want to upset you with the dagger. Maybe he has a friend on Earth he likes to talk to. There are a million reasons. She picked at the bread, forcing herself to eat it. She’d been starving before and now she was almost certain she’d bring it all back up again with the steady sway of the ship. The spiced rum-like drink hadn’t helped with that. But it had warmed her up.
Being on a ship hadn’t bothered her before, she knew it was just the exhaustion and that it would pass. She ran a hand across the rough wood of the bench to calm her nerves and looked around Maab’s office. Wood panels lined the walls and floor, and a solid desk was bolted down at the far side of the room. Beside it sat a large chair on wheels that looked not unlike miniature versions of the seed pods she’d flown in a month or so ago. Behind the table hung a tapestry, black and silver threads depicting mountains and lakes. The North. There were no trinkets on the desk, only the pitcher Maab had poured her drink from, and a single book. How did he go on without Enne? How did he face each day? The thing about loss, Fia realised, was that it brought up every loss she’d ever endured. Losing Arion—because she just couldn’t bring herself to believe Alexander was dead, made her think of everyone she’d lost before him. As if they had all just happened anew, all over again. Why didn’t you question Dante more about Alexander? She should have asked him how Alexander had died. She should have asked Dante how he knew.
She spotted a rug beneath Maab’s desk, it looked threadbare, but it was better than just the bench. Brushing breadcrumbs from herself, Fia dragged the blanket behind her and crawled under the desk. “Just like we used to do as kids, Soph,” she said to the empty office. She sat for a moment, legs crossed, listening to the sound of her breathing. She held her hands out in front of her, palms facing and hands curved towards each other, moving them in and out with her breath as Dante had shown her. In. Out. In. Out. She imagined a spiralling ball of flame forming between her hands and for a moment she thought her fingertips tingled with heat. She blinked her eyes open. Nothing. “Stupid,” she breathed, and slumped down on the rug to sleep.
***
Fia awoke to a stiff neck and dim light through the office porthole. It was morning, but how early, she couldn’t tell. She crawled out of her makeshift bed and stretched her aching muscles, her gaze falling on the wingsuit. After a mouthful of stale bread and a quick swig of water, she fastened the suit on as quickly as she could and made her way above deck. No one addressed her as she walked by them, and she wouldn’t have stopped to listen anyway. Dante might see you. The thought nagged at her. But she was safe here, amongst friends. Osara wouldn’t have been the only winged shifter on board.
She pushed her way through a doorway that led to the stairs to the deck. The sea air hit her immediately, and she found herself wondering if the wings would work underwater. If she could fly beneath the waves. But the suit was probably too heavy. Not to mention how cold the water is. The sky was thick with clouds as she stepped up onto the deck. With a quick check left and right, Fia pushed off into the air, willing her worries to fall away from her as she ascended.
Plumes of smoke drifted across the water in the distance, tall structures looming above the cliffs. Djira. You can ask Runa and Malachai about Dante. They’ll know if he’s a scholar. A white bird flew up beside her. Osara.
“The wings suit you,” Osara said. Fia knew, to anyone else it would have sounded like nothing but the squawking of a bird, but to her, it was perfect English, plain as day.
“I don’t know how you tolerate being human when you could be a bird all day long.” Fia turned onto her back for a moment and let the sensation wash over her. It was so exhilarating.
This time Osara made a cawing sound, and Fia knew it was in solidarity with her elation. “When I was a child, I would shift to escape my worries and fears. But as I grew older, I realised they followed me no matter what form I took.”
“How very true,” Fia said, turning herself upright again.
“All we know for certain is the present. Here. Now. Worrying about what has happened or what will be, does us no good. When you realise that, there is never a need to escape. There is never a desire for something else, other than this moment, no matter what that might be.”
A bell sounded on the ship below them, and Osara’s words echoed in Fia’s thoughts.
“Come, we’re preparing to enter the port. Maab will want to speak with you.”
Fia watched Osara dive towards the ship but hesitated for a moment. How could she not worry? How could she not worry when everyone she let herself get close to died? Was she putting Maab and everyone else in danger right now? One, two, three. “Face your fears, Fia. You can do this,” she said to herself and dived down after Osara.
Chapter Twenty
Alexander
A lexander had flown throughout the night. At dawn, he made his way into Hazel’s abandoned restaurant. But there was no sign of her, or of Jo or Halvar. There was no sign of a struggle, either. The chairs were still neatly upturned on tabletops, no indication of anything out of place. Best to check Fia’s place before jumping to conclusions. Sophie’s warning echoed in his thoughts.
He left the restaurant and made his way to Fia’s. The window was open still, but as soon as he flew in, he knew no one was there. Exhaustion spread through every inch of him, and he considered lying down on Fia’s bed just for a moment but wouldn’t allow himself to do it. Instead, he made his way to the kitchen for some water and to search for something to eat.
A picture of Fia and her sister Sophie was stuck to the door of the icebox. Fridge, he reminded himself. Empty, save for a few containers of items he didn’t recognise; he didn’t particularly care for their odour either.
He pulled open doors until
he found an open orange packet with square crackers inside. At least, they looked like crackers to Alexander. He tentatively took a bite of one. Stale, but it would do.
The whole way back to London, his thoughts had been consumed with just how long Erebus would have had to plan his revenge. The angels had wronged him, it was true, but what good would more suffering do? Make the angels suffer by preventing them from carrying out their ancient duties, by taunting the people of Earth. And then what? What was his next move—or was chaos his only goal? No, there had to be more to it than that, otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone back for Fia. She thinks you’re dead. Alexander coughed back a piece of cracker. He’d made a mess of everything. His leadership. Fia, Erebus, the angels. The spirits. What would Father have said? What would he have done? It was no use wondering. It was time for action.
He brushed himself down and set off out the window for the Earth witches’ premises. In no time at all he’d touched down on the familiar rooftop, staring down at the cobbled side street below him. At the end of the alley was the door to the building where the angels were trapped, and the spirit army and witches were waiting.
Jo, Hazel and Halvar had to be inside, he was certain of it. Going inside would be a death sentence, but he’d go down fighting if it meant saving his friends and fellow angels. What other choice was there?
He readied the swords he’d found at Hazel’s place and prepared to jump down into the alley when a familiar screech stopped him. Alexander spun around to look down the opposite end of the alley by the dumpsters—and sure enough, there was Kit, licking a paw.
The door to the building swung open, and three witches stepped out into the alleyway. “Thank you, Kit,” Alexander muttered under his breath. Behind the witches, a flash of red hair caught Alexander’s eye, and for a moment he found himself wishing it was Fia.
The Eternal Dusk (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Two) Page 15
