by Tricia Barr
Joran enjoyed this form of punishment, of that she was certain. It was an imitation of the pain she had put him through. How long would he keep her down here?
She almost missed the bliss of her former ignorance. Only two days ago, she had been so happy in his arms, hoping that he was someone that he simply wasn’t and could never be. Now she was stuck with the truth, with the nightmare of who the love of her life really was. And, yes, she did still love him, after all this time, after all he had done to her. Her love for him was inescapable and just as immortal as they were. Why did it have to be him?
A sudden sound from the stairs beyond her confinement startled her out of her pity party. Had her friends returned already? It wasn’t safe for them to come to her again, not unless Phoenyx was…distracting Joran again.
Pang of jealousy yet again, despite herself.
The lock clanked and the door opened. Once more, the light from outside flooded into her hungry eyes, making her head throb from the brightness, but she did not wince at the familiar figure she saw coming through the door.
Joran looked down on her, his shadow sheltering her from the light as it loomed over her. Ayanna could not see the expression on his shaded face, only the whites of his eyes gleaming at her like those of a hungry predator.
“Have you learned your lesson, my love?” he asked in a silky, deadly voice. “Or do I simply have to bury you in the ground and let the lesson sink in for a century or two?”
Ayanna could not let on that she had her memories back. She had to play the ignorant, terrified girl she had been before, or she would lose everything.
“Yes,” she replied in a small voice. She crawled on her hands and knees and tugged on his legs. “I am so sorry. Please, Joran, let me out.”
He knelt down in front of her and took her chin in his fingers. “Tell me, why did I lock you in here?”
She let her pent up sorrow over their twisted romance release in the form of tears. “I… I questioned you. I opposed you. I promise I will never do that again.”
“No, you won’t,” he said softly, and then kissed her with a gentleness that so strongly conflicted with the wickedness of his soul that it nearly shattered her heart. “Because if you do, I will kill you. Do you understand?”
Ayanna nodded, not a single shred of doubt in her mind that he was dead serious.
“Good,” he said. “Then I will give you one last chance to be the queen I need you to be. I will not cater to your moods and whims anymore. I will do as I wish, and you will accept it. That includes sharing my bed with whoever I choose. Is that clear?”
She nodded again.
“Say it!” he snapped.
“Yes, I understand,” she said, her voice trembling with authentic fear that he might strike her. Though she knew she could take him on in a fair fight, his soul-stealing powers made any fight far from fair. “You are my king.”
“Good girl,” he cooed. “And you are my queen. For now.” He stood up and took her hands, helping her to her feet. “Come. Our subjects will be expecting us soon. Tomorrow, we will claim the throne of England. It would please me very much to have you by my side.”
England? Tomorrow? Last she heard, he was only attacking another prison. Had Jessa’s phone call to the authorities changed his plans?
That could not be allowed to happen. She prayed that the witch’s spell on the dagger worked. They had to kill him soon, before he altered the world beyond repair. Even if that meant killing a part of herself along with him.
The instant Phoenyx saw Ayanna, saw the recognition in her eyes, her chest nearly burst with the joy of having her dearest friend returned to her.
They both were dressed in fine evening gowns, standing above the congregation of hundreds of their enemies alongside Joran, their greatest enemy of all. The two held each other’s gaze in secret understanding all the while that Joran gave his speech. Phoenyx wanted so badly to cut across Joran and hug Ayanna, but there would be time for that later, after they stopped this war.
For now, Phoenyx had to focus on Vincent, who was standing front and center in the crowd below them. She had to keep her mind chaste while being this close to Joran, but she kept glancing back to Vincent, unwilling to let him out of her sight.
When the speech had ended, however, keeping sight of Vincent became much more difficult. The crowd in the ballroom was much larger than it had been a few days ago. Joran had amassed quite an army since his attack on Pentonville. The broadcast had drawn out the crazies and zealots, sending them flocking to him, ready to follow him blindly. Not that he needed an army.
“Your highness,” Sebastian drew Joran’s attention immediately before he could turn it on Phoenyx. “Air and I would like to know of your military strategy for the attack tomorrow. I have been a military leader in several lives, I think I can offer you council.”
Sebastian’s bait worked. Joran’s ego was so large that it left no room for suspicion. “Sure, I would love to hear your input.”
Phoenyx kept her mind as silent as possible while Sebastian led Joran away; she didn’t want any of her thoughts to put her back on his radar. Once he was more than ten yards away, she stealthily slipped into the crowd to seek out Vincent.
He was quick for an old man. He had been right here a moment ago, and now he was nowhere in sight. Phoenyx traipsed back and forth through the crowd, trying to spot his salt-and-pepper hair in the sea of heads. When she was beginning to get frustrated, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
She turned around.
Vincent Mallick was standing there behind her, with Ayanna on his arm.
“What a pleasure it is to officially meet you, my Shade Princess,” Vincent said, using the title that Joran had bestowed upon her and Lily during his speech. “The queen said you wanted to speak with me. How may I be of service to you?”
Phoenyx met Ayanna’s gaze, her heart on fire with love and appreciation for her best friend’s incredible resourcefulness.
Then she looked back to Vincent. “Yes, I do have a matter of great importance to discuss with you in private. Please, follow me.”
Vincent looked so nice, so gentile when he wasn’t trying to end her existence. His fakeness only made her hate him more. That other people could think he was this sweet old gentleman made her sick, when she had seen the true, cruel side of him.
She and Ayanna led Vincent far away from everyone, into the shadows of the garden where no one could overhear. When Phoenyx was certain that they were alone, she took firm hold of Vincent’s wrist and pushed her will into him, enough to make the effects last this time.
She hiked up her dress and removed the dagger from the makeshift holster she had affixed to her inner thigh. “Tomorrow, when Joran least expects it, you will drive this dagger into his heart,” she commanded, slapping the dagger into his open palm and closing his fingers around it. “He cannot see the dagger before you stab him. You. Must. Not. Fail. Guard this with your life, and sacrifice your life to achieve your task if you must.”
“Yes, Princess,” Vincent said, looking at her like she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. “I will not fail you.”
“But there is one more thing,” Phoenyx said. “Your thoughts are not safe when you are around Joran. You can’t even think about the dagger. Think only of how much you love Joran, so that when you kill him, it is a complete surprise.”
“Of course, Princess,” Vincent said, his face turning red with adoration and eagerness for her.
Though she was used to this reaction from those she compelled, she found it disgusting coming from him.
“Now, get out of my sight,” she sneered, releasing his wrist and wiping her hand on her dress like he was something foul.
Vincent hurried back to into the ballroom, leaving Phoenyx alone with Ayanna in the garden.
Phoenyx could not hold it in anymore, and apparently neither could Ayanna. They reached for each other at the same time, wrapping their arms tightly around one another.
; “I thought you were gone forever,” Phoenyx whispered.
“So did I,” Ayanna whispered back.
“I missed you so much,” Phoenyx said.
“I can’t believe I hated you so much,” Ayanna said, and they both laughed as they withdrew from each other.
“How did you know I needed Vincent?” Phoenyx asked.
“I noticed you looking at him while Joran was talking,” Ayanna replied. “And when Sebastian pulled Joran away, I knew you guys must have a plan up your sleeves. I’m glad to see that I was right. So I take it the spell worked?”
“According to Sam, yes,” Phoenyx said. “The dagger can now kill anyone it has made immortal. We figured tomorrow would be our best and last chance to use it on Joran, and that Vincent would be our best pawn. You know that phrase ‘don’t kill the messenger’? Well, in this case, I don’t think any of us would be sorry if Joran did.”
Ayanna let out a small laugh, then gave Phoenyx a meaningful look.
“Are you going to be okay with this?” Phoenyx asked, referring to the assassination plot on the man that Ayanna was errantly in love with.
“No,” Ayanna said on exhale. “I don’t know if I will ever be okay again. But Joran has to die. Why does fate have to be so cruel?”
Phoenyx was well acquainted with the cruelty of fate. Setting her up to fall in love with her soulmate every few decades only so that they could die and start over again. Making both of them dream about each other every night when in half their lives they never met. And, in Ayanna’s case, turning her soulmate into a psycho that had no qualms over torturing or even killing her. Pretty screwed-up.
“You will always have me,” Phoenyx said, trying to console her. “Thanks to the dagger, we will never have to lose each other again. Once we use it on Joran, we’ll find some way to destroy it for good. Then we can truly be together forever.”
Ayanna half-smiled. “I love you, sister.”
“And I love you,” Phoenyx said, taking Ayanna’s hand. “Now let’s get back before Joran realizes we’re missing.”
An icy chill was in the air on this early autumn morning, seeping past Phoenyx’s protective layers, stinging her to the bone. The sun had not yet risen, and there was a fluffy layer of clouds keeping out whatever light tried to fill the sky as dawn crept up over the horizon.
Ravenscourt Park was filled with thousands of people. All of them were followers that Joran had gathered since the prison attack, and he put a gun in the hands of every one of them. Not that he even needed a militia to take the city for himself, with his powers and his use of the Bound Ones’ powers, but an army of people marching through London sends a much more powerful message than one man leading a small group.
The buzz on social media was that the attack had been a hoax. That’s what the news reporters wanted everyone to think. But apparently enough people believed it was real that they were willing to kill for it. The power-hungry and the scared had all come out of the woodwork to get behind the budding next world leader, rather than be killed by him.
Phoenyx and her friends were neither, just six people buying time until they could put an end to all this.
Vincent was here, as he should be, standing by Joran’s side with a smile of approval on his face as he looked out at the masses ready to strike under their command. Phoenyx could not tell where the dagger was hidden on his person, but she knew he had it. She could just sense it somehow. She was confident that her compulsion was still in effect, and she could not look away from Vincent for very long lest she miss the big finale.
“Alright, boys and girls,” Joran’s voice boomed out over the manicured grass and through the trimmed trees. “Let’s show London what we’re made of.”
He took Phoenyx’s hand in one of his, and Ayanna’s hand in the other, then walked forward, leading the procession onto the highway. Sebastian, Skylar and Lily were right behind them, and Sam was hiding somewhere in the crowd not too far behind them.
Phoenyx had thought this was a random, spur-of-the-moment attack. That Joran had just gotten a wild hair to conquer a nation. But as Sebastian found out last night, Joran had carefully coordinated this attack. The route they were marching today went from Ravenscourt Park straight to Buckingham Palace. There were four police stations directly off this road, and several other prominent, official buildings, each with a bomb planted by one of his many followers that was due to detonate as the militia marched past. These bombings were to be coordinated with the destruction of any other police station within a five mile radius outward. And an electromagnetic pulse was likely going off at the nearest British Air Force bases at this very moment, preventing as much government interference as possible.
With all of this, Joran would have no problem taking over the city, but he would have had an even easier go of it if he had set off an EMP bomb in the heart of London as well. Sebastian said that Joran had thought of that but discarded the idea; he wanted media coverage for this, wanted the world to watch him conquer one of the greatest countries in the world, and cameras can’t run without electricity. That was also why he was marching through the city with his army. He could have easily snuck into the palace and conquered England by surprise, but that didn’t make the same statement.
Phoenyx’s hand was sweating in Joran’s despite the frigid cold. So many lives were going to be lost today, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She would have to bite her tongue and just let the casualties happen until they had their chance to kill Joran. Phoenyx hardened herself against her emotions, preparing herself for the horror that was about to ensue.
But nothing could have prepared her for the first explosion.
Phoenyx saw the foreign police cars in the parking of the building up ahead before it fully registered in her mind, and then without a second’s notice, the building erupted with a loud boom! The cacophony of shattering glass, heavily crashing bricks, and crackling flames welcomed their passing like some demented anthem.
This boom was chorused by others in the distance on either side of them. Not long after they passed the now smoldering remains of the station, Phoenyx saw the smoke clouds of the other stations rising over the tops of the buildings and blending in with the clouds above.
That was when all hell broke loose.
Sirens sounded from all directions. Ambulances rushing to each bombing to rescue the survivors, and the police of other stations responding to the threat. Phoenyx’s nerves sharpened and heightened as the sirens grew louder, closer, drawing her nearer to the inevitable battle.
The first vehicle that appeared on the scene, however, was a news van. Joran had given express orders that no one interfere with any reporters, so the crowd parted around the van in the middle of the road, like water flowing around a rock in a stream.
When the police cars did show up, they weren’t near as lucky. As soon as the red and white lights flashed into view, Joran used Skylar’s telekinesis to raise the vehicles into the air, roll them upside down, and then slam them down onto the street with a horrible crunch.
The massive onslaught continued to march forward, passing by the overturned and mangled police cars as the dark blood mixed with the dripping oil at their feet. Phoenyx couldn’t bring herself to look at the underbellies of the vehicles, couldn’t even look in their general direction.
“Please… help,” she heard a small, broken male voice plead from under one of the cars that was now behind her.
Phoenyx almost turned around, her instinct demanding she help the wounded man, but before she could make the mistake, the sound of a gunshot echoed from that spot. She didn’t have to look behind her to know that one of Joran’s zealots had put the cop out of his misery.
And it only got worse from there.
More police cars appeared, stopping on the crossing road at the intersection and getting out with their guns.
“Freeze!” one of them shouted, aiming a gun at Joran.
There was no hesitation on the part of Joran’s followers. Sever
al shots went off from behind her, sparks snapping at the cops’ feet and against the walls.
Phoenyx could not just stand by if there was something she could do to save anyone. Suddenly, she had an idea, a way of protecting everyone that would look like a move in Joran’s favor.
Calling up the fire within, she ignited a line of thick flames on either side of the road all the way down, creating a barrier between Joran’s army and anyone who might try to stop them.
The police officers stumbled backwards, several of them running away screaming to put out the flames on their uniforms. Better burned than shot down.
“Excellent move, Fire,” Joran said, squeezing her hand. “You really do have all the makings of a great queen.”
Phoenyx smiled at him, putting on a smug expression for his benefit, even as she saw the wounded look on Ayanna’s face. Phoenyx averted her eyes, unwilling to let sympathy for her sister invade her mind where Joran could see it.
The choir of gunfire that grew all around her was an easy distraction demanding her attention as she focused on who was shooting. The British military had stealthily arrived, shooting at the killing parade from their perches on rooftops. Every Four Corners follower behind her with a gun shot back. But an incredibly small few of them were practiced shooters, with one out of every hundred bullets shot actually hitting its mark. The same could not be said for their opponents, however, and the marchers behind Phoenyx were dropping like flies.
Of course, the majority of the bullets were aimed at Joran, the obvious leader of the raid, and he had astutely wrapped himself and the Bound Ones in a telekinetic bubble with Skylar’s powers, the bullets ricocheting off in all directions and causing even more casualties.
The parade continued down its directed route, the townspeople erupting in panic as more bombs went off at the judicial buildings along the way. The dwindling numbers of law enforcement agents turned its focus on damage control rather than defense, setting up barricades to keep the citizens from accidentally driving into the parade’s path. Any soul unfortunate enough to accidentally get in Joran’s way was quickly relieved of his soul, via one element or another—Joran really loved showing off his ability to use any and all of the Bound Ones’ powers.
