“Moira? Is that you?”
Suspicion weighs my steps. Although she has always been kind, I still don’t know if she’s working for Icarus. In the past, she’s mentioned her sympathies for the Phoenix. Can I trust her? Doubt clings to my body, a thick fog that clogs my lungs. I swallow and push through my fear, sitting down onto one of the chairs. Josephine eases into her seat, her emotions mirroring my own.
Caution weighs my voice. “I suppose you’ve heard.”
“They say you’re the Phoenix.” She shifts. “How did you escape?”
I straighten, posing a question of my own. “Do you believe I’m the Phoenix?”
A dark mist trickles from her control as she falls silent. She examines me, her gaze flicking between my different-coloured eyes. A knot twists in my stomach as I tense, waiting for her response and prepared to invade her mind if needed.
She finally moves, a slight tightening of her jaw. “Are you?”
The question grates on my nerves, but I steady my breaths. If I were in her position, I’d be suspicious of me, too. We could keep going back and forth, evading each other’s questions. But the ticking of the clock behind her reminds me of what little time I have left. I peel away the dark emotions clinging to my mind and leap across the distance between us, hoping I’m not making a grave mistake.
“No, I’m not.” Anticipation slips through my next words. “And I sure hope you’re not working for him, because I need your help.”
For a moment, her expression remains frozen with her brows furrowed. My grip tightens on the sides of my chair as I let her refusal wash over me, but then the crease in her forehead smooths over.
She nods, and a glint of determination flickers in her eyes. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you.”
Along with my gratitude, my doubts exhale and clutter the air before fading. A thrill of excitement punctures my chest, quickening my pulse. An ally—something I’d thought I’d never have. Even though my heart bleeds with the remembrance of betrayal, hope keeps it from breaking. Because after everything, it’s still nice to be able to trust someone.
She leans forward and lowers her voice. “So what do you need me to do?”
“I need you to contact Alyssa and tell her to come here early tomorrow morning.”
I pause as thoughts of another empath flutter in my head. During the investigation, he’s made it clear that he sympathizes with the Phoenix. And I don’t blame him. But perhaps if he knew who the Phoenix was, knew what Icarus’s plans were, then maybe, his opinions might change.
I bite my lip, and my next words rise just above a whisper. “And I’d like you to call the Dream House and request Evan.”
Her brows furrow as her confusion colours the air. “That, I can do. Anything else?”
I shake my head, even though my confidence drowns beneath the current of my anxiety. Because behind my poised exterior, my mind scrambles to form a cohesive plan. Questions split the sky, blinding with their urgency. Where do I attack Icarus? How do I even get close without him overpowering my mind? Am I insane for thinking I might have a chance of succeeding?
Another question, spoken from another voice, slices through my thoughts.
“So do you know who the Phoenix is, then?”
She leans forward in her seat, expectant. Purple waves undulate out from her body, travel the space in between, and crash into my chest. It’s the question that has burned through all of our minds, and now, I have the answer. But would she believe me?
“I do.” My voice is hesitant as I consider her. “The Phoenix is Mr. Hayes. He’s an empath, always has been. His mother had an affair with her dream weaver and passed off the child as her husband’s.”
I let the absurdity of my words sink in and wait for her response. Her mouth opens, then closes. She furrows her brows and glances down at her desk, an opaque yellow cloud behind her. When she finally lifts her gaze, I know her doubt has won.
“Impossible.” She shakes her head for emphasis. “If what you say is true, then how has he gone unnoticed this long? Someone would have sensed his powers.”
Even though she falls silent, her thoughts continue to spin. I know, because it’s the same thing I’ve asked myself. Why didn’t I notice he was an empath? My lips curve, drawn up with sympathy.
“None of us noticed, Josephine. I’ve been in his mind several times, and all I saw was a weak one. But it’s because his true layout is hidden behind a strong wall he’s built.”
She slumps back in her chair, and her eyes widen with wonder, even though the cloud of disbelief still hovers behind her. She can’t accept it as truth. Not without proof. I brush against her mind, informing her of my intent through a single thought. She lowers her defences and allows me access to her landscape. Water laps against the shore and mollifies the exhaustion weighing over me. I kneel and bury my hands into the sand. Heat spreads along my skin as a mountain of golden granules cascades over my fingers. Images shuffle across her layout, a replay of my memories with Icarus. I make sure to only offer her snippets, withholding the ones revealing my involvement.
When the last image fades, I step out of her mind. “Now do you believe me?”
Seconds tick by as she stares at me, her eyes wider than before. When she finally nods, I release the breath I’d been holding. My body relaxes as relief lifts the weight of disquiet from my shoulders. In its wake, exhaustion settles in. A growl rumbles from deep within my belly, a cry for sustenance. The dank earth of the prison mixes with my sweat, a haunting fragrance.
“There is one more thing you can do for me.” I pause and glance up at her. “You could give me some food and let me stay the night.”
She stands and pulls out a ring of keys. “Of course. I can set you up in one of the empty boudoirs.”
The idea sends a ripple of disgust through me. Each boudoir contains memories of my time as a concubine. If I were to lie in one of the beds, the sheets would only remind me of my previous clients, most of which had been unpleasant. And some, I had vowed to forget. Thankfully, I have another choice.
“That’s not necessary.” I push myself to my feet and meet her gaze. “There’s someone I wish to see and who’ll let me stay in their room.”
Her fingers pause in their perusal, awaiting my response.
“I need you to bring me to Devin’s room.”
“Of course, follow me.”
The keys jangle in her hand as she strolls across the office, opens the door, and examines the hall, looking for any straggling housemaids. She turns back to me and gestures for me to follow. My legs ache as we exit and climb the steep steps, and tension pulls at my shoulders every time the floorboards squeak. When we reach the landing, I skim my hands over my skirt. My fingers reach up and pat my hair. I’m a mess. I should have asked for a bath and a meal first. She stops in front of a door and knocks, her knuckles tapping with little force.
Before the door opens, she turns to face me. “I’ll see what I can scrounge up from the kitchen.”
“Thank you.”
I press my lips together before the faint tug at the corners blossoms into a full smile. She strolls past and retreats down the dark hallway. In front of me, the door creaks open, drawing my attention. My gaze trails up a broad chest before finally resting on Devin’s face. Sleep weighs his lids down, and he blinks, fighting to keep them open. My stomach stirs with vicious nerves that tug and pull in each direction. Tears sting the back of my eyes, and my joy slips out into a wide grin. The last time I had seen him, I hadn’t been entirely myself. Guilt punctures the bubble of bliss. Why did I wait so long to see him? I should have known he’d forgive me. I should have tried even if I thought he wouldn’t.
Because that’s what friends do.
His eyes widen as they absorb the length of my body, and bright yellow flakes, tinted with darker threads, swirl around him. “Moira? What are you doing here?”
He sticks his head out into the hall and glances down the stairs.
“Visiting.” I look past him into his room. “Are you going to make me sleep out here?”
He furrows his brows, yet moves aside to allow me entrance. I ease past him and sit in the chair by his armoire. An ache spreads up from my feet as I bend down to remove my shoes. I wince and clutch my stomach as a stitch in my side gives me pause. Strong hands grab my ankle and loosen the laces of my boots, enough to slip them off. The muscles in his arms shift with the movement, pulling my gaze away from his face. I bite my lip as remorse forms a heavy lump inside my chest. How would he react if he knew the truth?
My voice escapes me in a whisper. “Thank you.”
He sets my shoes to the side. “You look like you’ve slept on the street for days. What happened?”
“Help me undress first.”
I push myself up to my feet and slide my fingers down the front of my blouse, loosening each button. With the front open, I shove the shirt off my shoulders and unhook my skirt. Dirt and sweat stain the once pristine white cloth. He moves behind me to untie my corset, and his anticipation crawls up my spine. Goosebumps spread across my skin as fear seizes me.
I rub my hands up my bare arms, inviting warmth into my body. “I’ve made a mistake. One that has gotten me into a lot of trouble.”
The words pour out, wanting his acceptance, needing him to understand. Because then, maybe my faults wouldn’t be so unbearable. I hold my breath as his hands pause at my back.
“I’m sure you had your reasons.” He finishes untying the corset and pushes it below my waist, letting it fall to my feet. “So, what did you do?”
His faith in me cuts deep, a wound that leaks gratitude and love.
I turn to face him and soften my voice. “I can’t tell you.”
When his expression falls, I rush on, hoping my explanation will appease him.
“Not yet. Trust me, it would take too long to explain and, honestly, I’m exhausted. I just want to sleep right now and be with my friend. But I promise I’ll tell you some day.”
He nods and grabs hold of my hand. “Of course. It can wait.”
Appreciation pulls my lips upwards as he leads me to the bed. He lies down on his side and pulls me into the comfort of his embrace. Lying here with him reminds me of all the other times we had snuck into each other’s rooms. Charlotte’s soft laughter fills the chamber. I blink away the moisture from my lashes and squeeze him tighter, burying my face into his chest and inhaling the clean scent of soap and the sleep that clings to his skin.
My muffled voice punctures the silence. “It’s almost like old times, isn’t it?”
“I’ve missed this.” He kisses the top of my head, and his breath stirs my hair. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” I pause and draw in a deep breath, letting the air fuel my resolve. “What would you do if you needed to eliminate someone, someone who has done horrible things and wants you dead? But they’re stronger than you, and you don’t know if you could beat them.”
A flurry of questions flutter across his mind, yet he doesn’t ask any of them.
“I’d get anyone who could help me and attack at a time and place they least expect.”
I close my eyes as ideas spin inside my landscape and take shape, forming a doubtful but worthwhile plan. Icarus would anticipate a private encounter, one in his own estate. He would never expect me to assault him somewhere in public. Because by doing so, I would only prove to everyone else I’m the Phoenix. But I can’t run, and I can’t let Icarus get away with what he’s done.
11
From the moment I had stepped into the Pleasure House, a knot had formed inside, twisting and tightening with each hour that passed. Even waking beside Devin has failed to ease the tension. I woke early, before the other concubines noticed my presence, and bathed and ate. Madame Josephine had provided me with new clothes to wear, since my other ones were filthy, stained with sweat and dirt. Afterwards, I had retreated into her office where I’ve been hiding all morning. After Mr. Harrison’s death, the Elite had closed the three houses. Without clients, the hallways lack their usual noise. The laughter, the crying, the moans—all have dulled to a quiet chatter. The walls hum with the eerie silence, expanding and contracting.
The buzzing stops at Josephine’s hushed voice. “Do you have a plan?”
“Of course.”
I turn away and continue pacing. My steps echo, pronouncing my agitation. I don’t tell her my strategy is comprised of loose ideas, ones that may or may not work. I’m not even sure if I’ll succeed, but I have to at least try. My gaze cuts toward the door. Where is Alyssa? She should have arrived by now. Dark thoughts whirl in my mind, feeding my unease. What if I was wrong to think I could trust her? The doubts bleed through my landscape, poisoning me from the inside.
A knock draws me away from my fears.
“It must be her,” says Josephine.
I nod and shuffle behind the door, pressing my back against the wall.
Her eyes flick away from me. “Come in.”
The door swings close to my body, and Alyssa steps into the room. Her black coat hugs her frame, and the tightly buttoned collar rises high around her neck. Wisps of frizzy hair escape beneath her hat. When the door clicks shut behind her, I hold my breath and remain still. I’ll need to take a chance and hope for the best. She removes her gloves and approaches Josephine’s desk.
Her dark blue skirt sways with her movement. “What’s so urgent?”
I speak before Josephine can answer. “I’m the one who called for you.”
“Moira?” Her shoulders rise, and she twirls around. “Is that you?”
“Yes, I’ll tell you everything once my other guest arrives.” I shift my weight on my other foot as nervous energy buzzes inside. “He should be here shortly.”
Her dark brows furrow, and her bafflement trickles out beneath her, a muddy yellow dust coating the floor. She opens her mouth, but another knock interrupts us.
Mrs. Hughes opens the door once more, and her voice drifts into the room. “The dream weaver has arrived. Shall I place him in your chamber?”
“That won’t be necessary.” Josephine leans back in her chair. “Bring him in here, please.”
I hold my breath as nothing but silence responds back. Finally, Mrs. Hughes mumbles in compliance. A young man enters. Evan. His white tunic and trousers contrast with the dark colours around him. Though his face remains hidden, his bafflement spreads into the room and mixes with Alyssa’s. A single question escapes his thoughts: Why have I been called to the Pleasure House? He stifles his confusion and nods at Josephine and Alyssa, his blond, unruly hair falling forward. I shuffle sideways and press the key in the lock. A faint click sounds from within the door. No one can disturb us now.
His voice lifts with shock. “Well, this is a surprise. Where’s your partner?”
Because the Elite and the police are supposed to be the only ones who know of the Phoenix, the general public isn’t aware that I’ve been locked up and accused of being the Phoenix. The mention of the detective threatens to untie the knot holding thoughts of him at bay. My heart stutters and picks up speed. I’ve been very careful not to think of him since my escape. The question of why he never visited me burns my mind, but I’ve brushed it aside, immersing myself in thoughts of Icarus instead. Because I can’t bear to face the answer yet.
I open my mouth to voice indifference, but the hurt I’ve been bottling up tumbles out. “I don’t have a partner.”
A glint of bewilderment sparks in his eyes.
“Alright.” He shrugs. “So why am I here? Something tells me I’m not here to help one of you sleep.”
All eyes fall on me. My mouth dries as I bristle beneath their anticipation. The emotion pulses outward, crashing into me. The force causes me to step back as fear creeps up my spine. What if by voicing my plan, I give validity to the absurdity of it? Any one of them could refuse, especially Evan. Out of all of us, he has nothing to gain.
“I was hop
ing you could help me.” I approach him with measured steps. “But I need you to use your powers in a different way.”
He narrows his eyes, but a glint of mischief sparks within. “I’m listening.”
My thoughts stray to Devin. Even though he has the power to affect the emotions of the people around him, the blockers who had assessed him as a child had believed him to be too weak to place in the Dream House. So instead of weaving dreams, he fulfills his clients’ fantasies by giving them unimaginable pleasure with just one touch. But I plan on utilizing another emotion. Anger. Similar to how a dream weaver helped Jonathan and Daniel escape. But I can’t ask Devin. I refuse to involve him with the chance he might be caught.
A dream weaver out in public, on the other hand, would raise less suspicion than a concubine.
“You’re a skilled dream weaver, right?” I wait for his nod before continuing. “So then you know how to control another person’s emotional state?”
“Of course. All dream weavers have to be, or else they’d never be able to put their clients to sleep.”
“But can you sway them in the opposite direction, away from peace and calm?”
“Yes.” The furrow in his brows smooths over as his expression transforms from puzzlement to understanding. “Why do you ask?”
My spine straightens as a thrill of exhilaration courses through me. “I need to get into the Legislature building without anyone noticing. I was hoping you could use your powers to create a diversion outside to draw the blockers inside the building out.”
Alyssa speaks before he can answer. “Why do you need to get inside?”
I lift my chin and look her straight in the eyes, hoping my voice doesn’t waver. “I’m going to kill the Phoenix.”
Her surprise slips out from her control in a burst of dark yellow, tinged with red.
“You know who the Phoenix is?”
“Yes, it’s Mr. Hayes.” I turn my attention to Evan. “The Phoenix isn’t who you think he is. He’s not like us. He’s never been a slave, and he doesn’t care who dies. He’s the reason I was in jail, awaiting my execution. So what do you say? Will you help me?”
Rise of the Phoenix Page 14
