The Eternal Dusk (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Two)

by Victoria J. Price

  “What have we here? A blossoming romance?” Erebus clicked his tongue. His observation of humans had not been pleasant. They were lesser creatures, consumed with material things and determined to destroy their planet. He reached a hand to the woman’s face and she smacked it away.

  “Get your creepy hands off me, you ancient parasite,” she seethed. Her black hair was braided into a long plait, but strands had worked their way free, and a fresh bruise bloomed under her right eye. Halvar had positioned himself between the two of them but said nothing—Erebus supposed the human had said enough for the both of them.

  “Ancient parasite,” he said, tapping his chin. “How novel.” He reached out a hand and before Halvar could even step forward, Erebus’s darkness snaked out from him and around the angel’s throat.

  Halvar grabbed and scraped at the darkness, but his fingers fell through it to his own skin. There was nothing he could do as Erebus squeezed tighter.

  “Stop it, you’ll kill him,” the woman yelled as Halvar fell to his knees.

  “Jo,” Halvar spluttered. “Stay back.”

  Erebus let go. Halvar gasped for breath as Jo helped him to his feet. Precious. He glanced around the room at the fearful angels, cowering against each other. All showed signs of Lorn’s inferno—damaged wings and blistering burns marked each of them. At least she had followed one instruction correctly.

  “Lorn, here, now,” he called out without looking over his shoulder. She tentatively stepped up beside him but said nothing. She still stood tall, defiant, her lips pressed tightly together—and again the thought of claiming her mouth with his crossed his mind. Later. “Tell me, have you been looking for Alexander, or simply spending your time torturing and dictating?”

  She folded her arms across her chest and seemed to consider her words. A spark of something flashed behind her eyes, and Erebus thought for a moment she might try to cast her flames upon him. Not that it would harm him, anyway. But he appreciated the sentiment, all the same. Her defiance hung somewhere between attractive and pathetic, and he found himself trying not to laugh at her for it.

  “We have been searching for him, sire. We’ve been questioning his friends too.” She said the word friends with such a ring of disgust, the other witches in the room laughed. All but one, who Erebus had only just noticed, one who sat on the floor behind Halvar and Jo, hands on her knees.

  “And who have we here?” he asked.

  The witch looked up and caught his gaze, but her expression remained empty. Her lips were swollen, and blood had crusted to the side of her face.

  “Not from here, are you, witch? Do you have a name?” Erebus asked, pulling the woman to her feet.

  “That’s Hazel, sire, she’s part of the Earth coven,” Lorn replied, circling Hazel as she spoke, her arms still pressed tightly against her chest.

  Erebus laughed. “Earth coven? Very cunning of you, Hazel. You fooled them all, it would seem. Tell me, how long have you been here?”

  Hazel yanked her hand free of his grasp and stood beside Jo and Halvar. “Long enough.”

  “Lucky for you, I don’t have time for this,” Erebus said and turned his attention to Lorn. “Question her, if that doesn’t work, question the other witches—they’ll have details of how long her infiltration has been going on, whether they knew it or not. And find Alexander by the time I get back, or I will send you and your brother to my prison. And you can learn the true meaning of ancient parasite,” he sneered, turning his gaze to Jo.

  He didn’t wait for a response, he felt himself become ethereal, a swarm of darkness, and shot up, through the ceiling of the basement, right through the spirit army, up through every level of the building and out through the roof until he was high above the city, and only then did he fall back into his physical form.

  An Ohinyan spy. Well, it was what they did best, after all. The Ohinyan witches had always made excellent spies—it was a witch who had first given him and Terah away to Gabriel. They were the parasites, along with the angels.

  Erebus flew across the city until the roads and buildings turned to fields of green and beige beneath him, and soon the fields gave way to ocean. Arrows. He’d forgotten the arrows. But there was no time, it would be morning soon, he realised, as soon as he passed through the window from Earth to Ohinyan. The sea air whipped at his face as he made his way back to Ashar, and to Fia.

  Would she still be sleeping? Would there be more time to practice her magic? He’d make certain they did on their way to the Tahjiik—if there even were any to be found in Djira. Erebus detested that even he didn’t know where they were hiding.

  Fia had asked for better boundaries, but it took him every inch of his self-restraint not to brush his lips over hers—not in the same way he’d wanted to kiss Lorn, that was just to fulfil a physical need, he knew. Fia was different. She was so like Terah. Her eyes, the shape of her face. The way she smiled. Would she feel the same, if he ran his hands through her hair and pressed her to him?

  He passed over cliffs and forest and made his way towards the clearing where they’d made camp. But as he touched down, it was apparent immediately—Fia wasn’t there. She could be bathing, or doing any number of things, he told himself. But then he saw his bag, his belongings strewn across the grass. Fia’s dagger was missing, along with the device the earth witches had given him. “Fia?” he called out to the forest. No reply. She suspected him. But of what? He could talk her out of it, couldn’t he? How far could she have gone?

  Erebus threw the bag aside and took off into the canopy. She would not slip from his grasp so easily—he wouldn’t allow it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Fia

  T he ship moved slowly through Djira’s harbour. The city was carved into rock—here and there Fia could make out a doorway or an arch, a stone walkway or bridge. Stone pillars were adorned with rings of gold that shone in the half-light.

  What she’d thought before were structures looming out of the cliff face was the cliff face itself, and the harbour was simply an extension of it. Runa and Malachai waved from a wooden dock, and as soon as Fia spotted them she flew down to greet them.

  “Fia.” Runa’s eyes were wide as she reached out. “Where did you find thos—”

  Fia could barely stifle her sob. “Arion, he’s dead, and Alexander—” She fell into Runa’s arms as she landed.

  “There’s still no news from him, Fia. What do you mean, what happened to Arion?” Runa pulled her tightly into an embrace.

  “These must be heavy, Fia. Why don’t we go back to the ship to talk?” Malachai offered. He swiped golden hair from his eyes and gestured back to the ship. A group of people brushed past them, feline faces with oval eyes and whiskers—not unlike the Aurelli, Fia thought, with whom she’d had several encounters on her last visit to Ohinyan. Only these were just as tall as an average human.

  “Asharians,” Runa said, following Fia’s gaze. “They’re not used to visitors.”

  The tail of a passing Asharian clipped one of Fia’s wings, and it spun around and hissed at her. “My apologies,” she said as politely as she could through her tears.

  “You speak our words,” the Asharian replied, grasping at the tip of its tail.

  “I… I do.”

  The Asharian narrowed its eyes for a moment and then turned away just as quickly as it had stopped.

  “Tell me something,” Fia asked as Runa and Malachai walked her back to the ship. “If the angels protect Ohinyan, why do none of you know the languages of this world?”

  “We did, once. But many skills are lost over time if not put to good use. Here,” Runa began unbuckling the straps across Fia’s chest and helped her to shrug her way out of the suit. Fia wondered what else had been lost to Ohinyan over time, to Earth, for that matter. Many traditions had died out there, it made sense for them to have died out here, too.

  Malachai took the wingsuit as Runa led Fia onto Maab’s already docked ship.

  “Runa, Malachai. It’s good to s
ee you. All is well in Alythia, I assume?” Maab asked as he approached.

  Shit. Fia had forgotten all about the attack on Alythia. She hadn’t even asked them if repairs to their home were going well. So much had happened in such a short space of time, she was certain she hadn’t processed it all.

  “Angels are good with their hands,” Malachai said, a warm smile spreading across his face as he clasped Maab’s arm in his. “Good to see you, too. Fia was just about to tell us about Arion.”

  “Very well, I need to speak with the harbour master, I’ll join you in a moment.”

  Fia watched Maab walk down the ramp and wondered if he just needed a minute to himself. Being a captain of a ship couldn’t have afforded him much time for relaxing in his tiger form, and he must have been aching to sink back onto four legs.

  “Now, Fia, please, sit here and tell us what happened.” Runa ushered Fia to a crate out of the way of the crew, bustling back and forth on the deck as they dropped the sails and wound up ropes.

  Fia sucked in a breath. She couldn’t tell them about Dante. Not yet. What would they think of her? A fool, that’s for sure. “We left Ikothea and rested on Estesh,” Fia began. She told them of the attack, of the caves with the mercenary—just as she had told Maab. She told them she’d stolen the suit and escaped and seen Maab’s ship from the shore.

  Runa was quiet for a moment, her eyes glassy. “He was the last,” she whispered. Malachai took her hand.

  “And he will not be forgotten,” he said. “We’ve still not had word from Alexander, Fia. The witches lost contact with their envoy on Earth. We don’t know—”

  “If he’s dead?” Fia looked up at them both. Malachai had wrapped an arm around his wife, and Runa rested her head on his shoulder. Malachai was Alexander’s right hand. His best friend. Whatever Dante knew, Malachai would know too, wouldn’t he? So Dante had to have been lying. Even more reason not to tell them about him—she’d only disappoint them further.

  Malachai reached a hand to Fia’s shoulder. “We don’t know if he’s dead, no. I’m sorry. We’re doing all we can to find a way to Earth. We’re hoping if the Tahjiik are here, they’ll know.”

  She let her head fall into her hands for a moment. They all still expected so much of her. All you do is destroy things. People. And if she really was what Dante had told her, she was like Lorn. She couldn’t be like that. “I’m coming. I need to run the wingsuit downstairs; I’m worried it might rust if I leave it up here.”

  “I’ll take it for you. Go on ahead, I’ll catch up,” Malachai said, walking away with the wingsuit before Fia could protest.

  She walked across the deck, her eyes darting across the busy dockyard. The Asharian who’d brushed by her earlier stood beside a pile of bulging sacks, and he narrowed his eyes as she caught his gaze. It wasn’t an aggressive gesture, Fia sensed, and something told her he’d been waiting.

  Runa said something beside her, and when Fia looked back, the Asharian was gone. The stench of fish carried to them on the breeze, and she regretted the mouthful of stale bread she’d eaten earlier. The crew still bustled about on the deck as she silently gave herself a pep talk. Trust your instincts. She searched again for any signs of the Asharian, but she’d lost sight of him.

  Maab was stepping up onto the deck. “I heard you’re leaving to seek out the Tahjiik. I’d like to accompany you.” He unclipped his chest plate as he spoke, and Fia knew he wouldn’t be joining them as a man. “Take my armour below deck. Osara is in charge whilst I’m gone,” he said to the nearest crew member, and before they could reply he shifted into his animal form: an enormous white tiger.

  “Better?” Fia asked.

  He didn’t speak, instead, he made a quiet huffing noise, puffs of hot breath pooling in a cloud in front of his face.

  “No scaring the locals, okay?” she added. He blinked back at her.

  By the time they stepped down onto the dock, Malachai had already caught up with them. “I see we’re going for the grand entrance,” he said with a laugh, flicking his chin in Maab’s direction.

  Fia pulled her coat tighter around herself. It was lined with something not too dissimilar to sheep fleece, but she didn’t want to think about what the outer part was made of. “Something like that.” It felt strange to be without her wings, but she was feathery light without them. She’d left her bag and her bow on the ship, but her dagger was tucked safely down the side of her boot, just in case, and she still wore her pouch of witch stones inside her top—aside from them feeling like a lucky charm, she felt a sense of responsibility to keep them safe.

  And then she saw him again. The Asharian. “Runa, Malachai. Can you wait here for a moment? I have an idea. Maab, I need you to be my wingman.”

  Maab huffed. “What’s a wingman?”

  Sidekick? No. He wouldn’t appreciate that. “Don’t worry, just keep me company, okay?”

  The Asharian’s ears flicked just like any regular cat as they approached. He leaned against a door set in stone, with his arms folded across his chest, oozing so much arrogance Fia was certain he’d snap back with an insult about their intrusion.

  “Forgive me, we are not used to strangers here. Men who can change into beasts are… unsettling…” he said, his gaze darting in Maab’s direction.

  Maab bared his teeth in response.

  “My friends and I are searching for the Tahjiik. I thought you might have something you wanted to say to me,” Fia replied, inclining her head towards Runa and Malachai.

  The Asharian brushed at his lapel. He wore an impeccable black coat, trimmed with gold and satin. It reached below his knees, and his leather boots were equally lavish, some kind of snakeskin, if Fia had to guess. “I was told to expect you. Come.” He didn’t wait for a response, instead he turned away and darted through the busy streets.

  Fia waved Malachai and Runa over. “We better hurry,” she added as they touched down beside them.

  “Hurry for what?” Runa looked from Fia to Maab, her brow scrunched into a frown.

  “I found a lead,” Fia beamed, looping her arm around Runa’s.

  Malachai took Runa’s hand in his, and Maab stood on Fia’s free side. Asharians and the odd human stared at them as they walked past—Runa was right, they weren’t fond of strangers.

  They passed through stone streets, across narrow bridges, and past wooden doors set into the stone. Moss hung from the stone, creating curtains of green amongst the grey.

  They walked up stone steps, past closed door after closed door, more whiskered faces and narrowed eyes staring at them as they passed. One hissed at Maab and he growled back, but it simply blinked as they walked away.

  The cold and the damp seemed to cling to the stone, and Fia was grateful for Maab’s warmth at her side. For a moment she wondered if she’d been wrong about the Asharian, but she knew she had to start trusting her instincts. She had to believe that she really could be the girl from the prophecy, the girl Ohinyan needed.

  The Asharian led the way, ascending more flights of steps connected by narrow passageways, glancing back every now and then to check they were following. They walked until they were so deep into Djira, barely any light made its way through the gaps in the stone. Torches rested on the walls above their heads, the hanging moss creating flickering shadows all around them.

  A single door sat at the end of the passageway before them. In front of it, the Asharian rested, arms folded once more across his chest. As they approached, he pushed open the door for them. “Can your pet wait outside?” He narrowed his eyes at Maab again, flicking his chin in the tiger’s direction.

  The irony of a talking, walking cat asking for another to remain outside wasn’t lost on Fia, but she knew now wasn’t the time for a sarcastic remark. “I can assure you, he’ll be on his best behaviour.” Fia made her way through the door without looking back. She’d seen Maab fight—he’d torn his way through Makya, mercenaries and Senkahs without even a single stain to his fur. No way was she leaving him behind. �
��So the Tahjiik are here?” she asked as she followed Runa and Malachai down a narrow stone corridor.

  “Only one,” a voice said from somewhere beyond them.

  Fia stepped out of the corridor beside Runa and Malachai, Maab at her side.

  “Welcome,” a man said. He sat in a wheelchair, dressed in fine clothes. His dark sepia arms were bare and rested against tawny, leather-looking armrests. He had the face of a young man, black hair so short it was barely there at all, and a hint of a beard swiped across his chin. “My name is Okwata. I’d been hoping you’d make your way here.” He flicked a switch on his wheelchair, and it rolled towards them, close enough for him to extend a hand to Fia.

  She shook his hand. His skin was smooth and warm, despite the chill in the air. “Nice to meet you, Okwata. I’m Fia. This is Runa, Malachai and Maab.”

  “Please, follow me to my lab. The environment is much more… pleasing,” he said with a smile, casting his eyes across the room. The stone walls were covered with tapestries and cloths, but there was no hiding the imposing stone that pressed in around them. “Ahrek, will you take our winged friends to the observatory. And don’t forget your manners, use the common tongue.”

  Ahrek cleared his throat from somewhere behind them. “Very well,” he said, and Fia couldn’t help but notice the note of disdain in his voice, but he did use the common tongue as Okwata had asked.

  “We’d prefer to stay together,” Malachai said, glancing from Ahrek to Okwata.

  “I can assure you; you are all quite safe here. Ahrek is a strong fighter, but he’s no match against two armed angels. And I… well…” He smiled and waved a hand across his legs. “Maab here will keep me in check, I’m quite sure.”