A familiar voice grips my mind. Come in, Moira.
My feet move of their own accord, bringing me closer. I lay my hand on the knob. If I open this door, I might die. Lava floods my mind, coating the staircases and walls. And if I don’t step through this door, I still might die. I turn the knob and ease my way inside. Scott sits behind Mr. Harrison’s desk, aiming a revolver at my chest. I slide the door closed behind me, while keeping my own weapon pointed at his head.
His dark eyes glimmer in the light, the only sign of life in his severe expression. “I expected more from you.”
“And I thought you were dead. I guess we can’t always believe our expectations.”
“No, I suppose not.”
His words are the only warning I have before he crashes through my barriers. Slide your weapon across the floor toward me.
His persuasion takes root in my mind, and I find myself obeying his command. I place the revolver on the floor and slide it toward him. He stands and moves around his desk, halting the gun’s progress with his foot. Inside my landscape, he travels across the grass and stops at the staircase. Red, molten liquid encroaches on the top step, and pockets of hot air pop on the surface. The lava edges onto the grass and burns everything in its path. A smile sneaks up on me.
Scott narrows his eyes and takes a hesitant step forward. “I see you’ve upgraded your defences, but you’re a fool if you think you can stop me.”
The tip of his shoe slides a breath away from the lava. A faint ringing chimes in my ears as our wills struggle against one another. When I think I might win, his final push sends the dark liquid away from his feet. Each step he takes forces the lava to inch away from him and down the stairs. My control slips from between my fingers, each loss a slice against my palm. Sweat builds at the back of my neck and slides down my spine, disappearing beneath the fold of fabric.
Beyond the hum of concentration, Scott’s voice sears my mind. I can do this all night. It’s your choice, Moira. Give up now.
“Never!”
Suit yourself.
After ten steps, the pain morphs into an unbearable agony that splits my head. I buckle beneath his will, falling onto my hands and knees, and the lava vanishes. As I pant for air, he slips deep into my mind. He finds the memory he wants and rips through it. Images flutter before me: the prison, my escape, my conversation with Josephine, and our trip to the hospital. The visions slow as my interaction with Icarus and, later, my collaboration with the police unfolds before Scott. He retreats from my layout, but not before his disgust colours my thoughts.
“Ah, I see.” His dark eyes narrow. “You’ve brought your lovers to help you.”
I snap my head up and dive into his landscape. The moment my feet touch grass, I fall to my knees. A set of growls rumble around me. I ignore the threat and plant my palms on the ground, calling forth the lava in my mind. The liquid slinks down my arms and pools around my fingers, spreading out from my touch. Smoke rises from the earth as the lava burns across the forest.
In Mr. Harrison’s office, Scott clamps his hands over his ears, and an animalistic howl rumbles from his lips. His face twists into a grimace, and his eyes squeeze tight. I jump to my feet, taking advantage of his distraction, and pounce toward the gun by his feet. I stretch my arm, willing myself closer. Time slows as my body falls forward. But before I hit the ground, a hand locks around my neck, and fingers close around my throat. My feet scramble beneath me, fighting for balance. Precious air slips from between my lips.
But I haven’t lost yet.
I wrap my fingers around his neck. My physical strength pales in comparison to his, yet my touch causes a chain reaction to unfold. His eyes widen as his grip loosens. Revulsion mixes with his outrage, clawing at me, as if a dozen hands were tearing at my dress. With years of engraved instinct, he cringes away from me like so many times before. As a result of sexual abuse from his childhood master, he never could handle physical contact. His desperation pulls us both back against the desk. I tumble forward, falling into his mind. I plant my hands on the ground. Memories pool into his landscape, taking shape out of thin air as I force his greatest fear upon him.
A man pins me to the bed, pressing my stomach into the mattress. His calloused hands scrape against my skin as he tugs my legs apart. I fall into my landscape to block the feel of him inside me.
The image vanishes, replaced by one with Icarus.
He grabs my breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth. I grind my hips into his and throw my head back as my climax seizes my muscles. His hands slide down to cup my ass.
The memory shifts, morphing into another.
Fingers stroke my back, weaving intricate designs across my skin. Keenan’s warm breath tickles the base of my neck and creates a ripple of change throughout my body. My flesh rises into tiny bumps, and my nipples harden against the bed sheets.
My head smacks against a hard object, snapping me out of Scott’s mind. A gasp tears through my lungs, and my eyelids flutter open. His face looms over me as the room spins around us. Red lines snake across the whites of his eyes. The muscles in his jaw clench at the same time he grips my throat. The weight of his body on top of mine adds to the pressure around my neck.
His lips curl into a snarl. “You never could keep your hands to yourself.”
With my right hand, I pat the floor by the desk. My fingers tap the wooden slats, searching, yearning for metal. My vision blurs as consciousness slips away from me, and I feel myself fading, drifting into nothingness. Crimson shoots across my sight, red hot. Fire flares through my landscape, burning, turning everything to ash. She rises from the flames, untouched. Her eyes, bright with rage, tether me to reality. With one last burst of energy, I stretch, forcing my muscles beyond their capacity. If I had breath, I would scream at the agony tearing through my arm.
My fingers graze cold metal. I claw at the weapon until the handle rests in my grasp. Dark splotches taint my vision. I yank the revolver close to my chest and pull the trigger. Once. Twice. The sound ricochets through my body, rattling my bones. His hands slide away from my throat as his body teeters sideways. He crashes to the floor, clutching the bleeding wound in his stomach. Crimson liquid pools around his midsection, and a ragged, drawn breath whistles through his teeth. I drag my body up, my lungs heaving with dry coughs. My back smacks against the desk as I twist and pull myself to my feet.
My arm trembles as I aim the revolver at his chest, and I barely recognize my own voice. “You should have stayed dead.”
I pull the trigger for the third time. The bullet embeds deep in his chest. His mouth parts with one last breath before the glimmer in his eyes vanishes. I shove the contents off the desk and sit on the edge. Unwittingly, my gaze shifts to his prone form. Untainted euphoria hums through my body. I won. I defeated Scott all on my own. The knowledge of my victory brings a smile to my face.
The office door crashes open, and Icarus barges into the room. His gaze flicks from my face to Scott’s, and then back again. His posture relaxes, and the lines of anxiety etched into his face smooth over. Laughter bubbles up my throat at the idea he might have been worried for me. But my expression sobers as the muscles in my shoulders tense. Agony seizes my neck, and the room tilts.
“You’re a little too late.” I touch the sensitive skin below my jaw. “You were supposed to help me.”
He smirks in admiration and approaches me. “You’re the one who ran off. Besides, I always knew you had it in you.”
“I doubt that.”
A short burst of air rushes out of his mouth, amusement mixed with frustration. Silence creeps between us, and the atmosphere in the room shifts as his expression morphs. The intensity in his eyes causes my skin to crawl. I open my mouth, prepared to ask him if the fight outside is over. But someone enters the room and interrupts us. My expression twists into a scowl the moment the man’s features register in my mind. Daniel. He stands in the doorway, holding a gun before him. Icarus follows my gaze and takes three steps away
from me.
I grind out my words through my teeth, addressing Icarus. “I thought you dealt with him.”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Daniel’s lips twist into a crazed smile. “Hello, Master. I’ve been looking for you.”
I hold my revolver up and aim at Daniel. His words weave a thick cloud of confusion around me, and I cling onto one word. Master. My mind expects to hear derision mixed with scorn in his voice, yet my ears only hear devotion. I narrow my eyes and swing my arms right. Icarus holds up his hands, a weak attempt to placate me. I knew I couldn’t trust him.
A growl of frustration rips from my throat. “I knew it! You couldn’t wait to turn on me again.”
“Now, Moira.” He lowers his hands. “That’s not true. Besides, don’t pretend you weren’t planning to do the same to me. You hid it well earlier, but I can see it now. It’s clear in your eyes.”
“I do what is needed to survive.”
He tilts his head to the side. “As do I.”
I shift my aim back on Daniel, though my words are for Icarus’s ears. “He betrayed you. He left you and united himself with Scott.”
As I say the words, the truth in them diminishes. Daniel only listened to Scott’s plans and kept him away from Icarus. I should have wondered why Scott hadn’t stormed into the hospital to end Icarus’s life. Daniel’s grin widens as realization dawns on me. Oh, but he did revel in the freedom Scott gave him. A glint of satisfaction stirs in his eyes. The slimy bastard.
I shake my head in disgust and speak to him. “You’ll always be a slave.”
“And you’ll be dead.”
Icarus’s voice rips through the air. “No!”
I shoot at the same time Daniel does. A body crashes into my side, shoving me into the bookshelf. My spine pops as my back smacks into solid wood. Another gunshot resounds in the room, clearing the haze in my head. I blink and clutch the shelves behind me. Silence hangs in the air. In the background, the harsh tones of men talking reaches my ears. I glance at the doorway. Keenan stands at the entrance, staring down at Daniel’s body. Fresh blood stains his face, most likely stemming from his broken nose. His eyes blaze, a vibrant green that sends my heart skittering in fear. When his gaze rises to meet mine, my legs yearn to run to him.
Until I remember our recent conversation.
“Fuck.”
Icarus’s voice draws my attention away from Keenan. He sits on the floor, resting his back against the desk. He winces in pain and clutches his side. A sickly shade of grey overtakes his face. He stares up at the ceiling, and his irises wander. My brows furrow in confusion. Did Keenan shoot him? The memory of someone pushing me flashes before my mind. Frozen, I simply stare. The chill soon leaves my body, and my limbs unthaw. A wave of anger washes over me. I fall to my knees and peer closer at his side.
The sight of blood draws forth unbidden words. “You idiot.”
A cough cuts his laughter short. His face twists in agony, washing away the remnants of humour. He swallows and draws in a deep breath.
“Not even a thank you.” His eyes shift away from my face to the door. “Ah, you’re in time to watch me die.”
My gaze flicks to the entrance where Keenan still stands. He remains silent, not bothering to respond to Icarus. I don’t blame him. When I turn back to Icarus, my hands move with a will of their own. I press my palms against his hand, adding my pressure to the wound. His actions always contradict his words, leaving me baffled and sore. Why didn’t he let Daniel kill me?
Instead, I only manage one word. “Why?”
He shrugs, shifting his gaze from my hazel eye to my blue one. A string of emotions drip from his hand into mine. Anger. Annoyance. And disbelief. Beyond them, a hint of regret lingers. I follow that small thread, letting it pull me deep into his mind. Once inside, the brick wall crumbles until a thin opening appears. I hesitate, suspicious of his sudden need to show me his true landscape. After a moment’s deliberation, I lift my skirt and step through.
A massive chess set stands before me. The checkered platform expands as wide as the courtyard in front of the Legislature building. Instead of generic figures, large marble pieces, fashioned after real people, occupy certain areas on the board. I step onto the game and tread with caution. Several figures lie on the ground. When I crouch and examine the features, I rise to my feet in one swift motion as they shift into a recognizable face. Daniel. I dismiss his broken form and continue onto the other side of the board. One of the figures draws my attention. Her short hair ends abruptly at her jaw, the loose waves framing her oval face. My fists clench at my sides. Nothing but another pawn in his game.
But at least, I’m still standing.
His voice is an electric shock. “Touch her.”
“What?”
“Just do it.”
I press my fingers against the stone figure that stands as a representation of me in his mind. Emotions and memories rush into me, forcing me backwards. I plant my feet on the ground and withstand the onslaught. Affection winds around me, interlaced with irritation. I suddenly see myself from his eyes, a woman who has caused him nothing but torment. But beneath his aggravation lies an emotion at odds with hate, one I refuse to accept.
I shake my head and clench my jaw. “Don’t you dare say it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
In the wake of his voice, he pulls me into one of his memories.
He lies on his bed, his body tilted to his side and his head propped up on an elbow. The walls around him have fallen, leaving his expression open and unguarded. He blinks, a deliberate movement that manages to alter his appearance. The serenity vanishes from his features, and his golden eyes burn with a familiar ferocity. He slides his hand across the sheets until his fingers find skin.
He leaves a tender trail down the woman’s back and whispers low into the stillness. “I’ll do everything in my power to protect you, Moira.”
She stirs. Her lashes flutter against her cheeks as her eyes struggle to open.
She groans and stretches her limbs against the sheets. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Long enough.” His expression shifts once more, the fierceness in his eyes dimming to regret. “It’s time for you to go.”
He knows exactly what she’ll say, yet he loves hearing her say the words.
A yawn splits her mouth open. “Can’t I stay with you?”
“You don’t know how much I wish you could.”
The memory breaks, shattering into sharp fragments that lodge into my skin. I tumble out of his mind. The image and his words linger, forever imprinting upon my landscape. I try to make sense of it, but shove it away. I don’t want to understand. I can’t. He may have forced the memory on me, but that’s as far as his control goes. When I finally bring myself to look at him, a strange sense of peace envelops me.
A soft valediction leaves my lips. “Goodbye, Icarus.”
His gaze settles on my hazel eye, and his mouth tilts into a genuine smile. “Farewell, sweet Moira.”
I blink and glance away as the serenity woven inside vanishes. A group of constables steps into the room and they all rush to Icarus’s side. Their broad bodies crowd around me, along with a thick cloud of concern. They hope, not knowing what I already know. The Phoenix is dead.
Pushing myself to my feet, I approach Keenan. The dark look in his eyes lightens as his gaze settles on me, but a thick band of suspicion continues to curl around his torso. He has heard everything Icarus and I had said, and I can only imagine what thoughts must be whirling inside his head.
I swallow the lump lodged in my throat and ignore Daniel’s prone form. “Thank you. Daniel would have succeeded in killing me if you hadn’t come when you have.”
He nods.
A wave of heat courses through me, erasing the biting chill of his aloofness. Why does he just stand there, so cold, so hostile? He’s angry, yet he continues to hold onto his emotions with a tight leash. Instead, he should be venting his frustration
, howling at my betrayal, stripping me bare at the rawness of his pain. I deserve it. I deserve his rage and so much more.
Still, his lips remain closed.
My heart splinters, because his silence is so much worse. It’s as if he can’t even bother to feel anything for me anymore.
His gaze slides away, landing on Scott’s dead body. “Our deal is complete. You’ve kept your word, so now I’ll keep mine.”
He lowers his voice to a whisper. “You’re free, Moira.”
More than one meaning laces his words. Free from our deal. Free from Icarus. Free from my past. And free from him.
The last one cuts deep, slicing through my relief and gratitude. I open my mouth, searching for an excuse or a plea. My lips seal shut. I’ve never been one to beg, and I’m not about to start. Because even though my chest caves in as my heart withers, there’s one thing I do know about love.
You can’t make someone love you.
22
Boarding House for Empaths
Boarding House for Empaths
Formerly Pleasure House, South District
June 20, 1903
* * *
I secure the hat on my head and turn to face the mirror. The front ribbon dangles in front of my eye. I pick up one of the pins and adjust the sapphire strip of fabric, pinning it behind one of the fake flowers. Once finished, I examine the entirety of my outfit. Deep brown strands stick out from my hat and curl around my jaw. Small ruffles decorate the high collar of my blouse, the pale blue complementing the darker shades embellishing the hat. The sleeves of my shirt puff out more than I’m accustomed to, accentuating the upper half of my body. My navy skirt hangs closely to my hips and legs. I turn to the side, scrutinizing every angle.
Rise of the Phoenix Page 27
