Phoenix (Black City #2)

Phoenix (Black City #2) Page 24

We run to the tunnel, hand in hand, Elijah following. The searchlight fixes on something in the center of the compound: it’s found Garrick and Sasha. We have a few minutes at most before a Transporter comes down for them and the area is crawling with Sentry guards. I don’t understand why they didn’t bring the guards down with them in the first place, though. It doesn’t make much sense, but I’m not going to complain about a bit of good fortune.

We reach the tunnel, and Ash and Elijah start pulling at the wooden boards nailed in front of the entrance. Above us, a hatch opens in the Destroyer Ship and something metallic streaks across the night sky. A Transporter.

I help Ash and Elijah with the boards, yanking at them with all my might, ignoring the splinters digging into my hands.

Dust stirs in the air as the Transporter lands nearby.

“Hurry!” Elijah says, pulling at the wood.

He tears off another plank, creating a hole just big enough for us to squeeze through. Ash and I toss our bags through the gap, and then the three of us clamber through the hole, dropping to the other side just as bright lights flood the camp. We don’t hang around to find out if we’ve been spotted. We sprint into the depths of the pitch-black tunnel. I’ve never known darkness like it—I’m totally blind. My feet keep getting caught in the wooden ties of the railway track, making me stumble more than once. I run my hand along the stone wall until my fingers find a cold, hard metal railing about four feet from the ground, and I cling to it, trying to rein in my terror.

There’s a loud grumble, and at first I’m worried we’re having a cave-in. Then Elijah gives a small laugh.

“Was that your stomach, Darkling?” he whispers in the dark.

“I haven’t eaten in days,” Ash replies through gritted fangs. He leans against the wall for a moment, letting out a low groan as his stomach rumbles again. Yet again, I wish I could do something to help.

“Are you all right?” I ask him.

“I’ll be fine.” He staggers onward into the blackness.

Somewhere deep in the passageway, I hear the chatter of bats and just pray they’re not infected with the Wrath as well. I can’t deal with flesh-eating bats and man-eating dogs all in one night. My eyes start to adjust to the dark, not so much that I can see things clearly, but enough to differentiate between the shades of black: lighter black is air; darker black is the curved tunnel walls. Even so, I keep my hand firmly grasped around the cool railing as I follow Ash.

I’m starting to get the vibe that he doesn’t know I’m ill. It’s just the way he’s acting around me—he seems concerned, but only the normal amount you’d expect given our predicament, not “my fiancée is going to die of a horrific virus” kind of worried. I don’t think he overheard my conversation with Elijah earlier. If he had, I’m certain he would’ve mentioned it by now.

In one way it’s a relief—I can spare us both the heartache for a while longer, until I find the strength to tell him. But eventually, I will have to break the news to him, and that’s not a conversation I want to have. I know that as soon as the words fall out of my lips, it’ll mean the end of our relationship. I’ll have to leave him, not just for his own safety, but because it’ll be the kindest thing to do. I can’t let him watch me rot and die the way his mother did. My heart cramps at the thought of losing him, and Ash sucks in a breath, feeling my pain. That’s the only problem with being Blood Mates; every time my heart bleeds, he feels it too. He looks over his shoulder again at me, his eyes glimmering with concern.

We walk through the dark tunnel for hours, until I think I’ll go mad if we don’t get out of here soon. Thankfully, I don’t think we’re being followed. I’m sure we would’ve heard them by now.

“What do you think the others are doing right now?” Elijah asks.

Ash stops and rummages around his bag, pulling something out. “I forgot I had this, sorry,” he says. There’s a flick of a switch and immediately the portable digital screen’s bright light fills the tunnel. The sudden change in light hurts my eyes, but it’s a relief to be able to see again. We listen to the latest news reports, while Ash uses the digital screen like a flashlight.

For over an hour we hear story after story about members of Humans for Unity being rounded up and executed. The Sentry’s hit rebel factions in Fire Rapids, Red Winter, Lithium, the list goes on. I quickly do the sums. That’s over two hundred people, dead. The numbers are really shocking when you consider Purian Rose only declared war on us a few days ago. If things continue on at this rate, the rebellion won’t last long. I glance at Ash. His face is illuminated by the bluish glow of the digital screen. His mouth is set in a grim line. He’s obviously thinking the same thing as me: we have to find the Ora, and fast.

“Can we take a break?” Elijah says. “My feet are killing me.”

I don’t want to stay in the tunnel forever, but I’m sweating from exhaustion, and I know Ash can’t carry on much longer, given the way he’s clutching his stomach. We find a recess in the tunnel wall and sit down, using our coats as pillows. Ash puts the digital screen on the ground between us so we can share the light.

“I’m going to use the little girls’ room,” I say, hurrying down the tunnel until I find another recess in the wall. It’s much darker down here without the light of the digital screen, and I try to be quick, spooked out by the idea of rats, cockroaches and heaven knows what else scurrying about in the gloom.

When I’m done, I rush back toward Ash and Elijah, tripping on a railway strut in my haste. I crash to the ground, cutting my hand and arm on a broken wooden tie. Wincing, I sit up and check my wound. A large splinter is sticking out of my arm. I bite my lip as I pull out the splinter of wood. Blood oozes out of the wound, and I gingerly get to my feet, keeping my arm elevated.

“Ash? Elijah?” I call out, unable to see them. “I’ve hurt myself. I—”

There’s a terrifying growl, which echoes down the tunnel, chilling me down to my marrow. Something lunges toward me in the dark, hitting me with such force that all the wind is knocked out of my lungs. I can’t even scream as the creature yanks my head to one side, exposing my throat. All I think is Wrath Hound. But then I notice the cotton of a shirt, the scent of bonfires and musk, the warmth of Ash’s breath spilling over my skin. My heart clenches with fear, for me, for him.

“Don’t!” I scream as his fangs prick my skin.

Suddenly his weight lifts off me. There’s a loud crunch of bones hitting stone as Elijah flings Ash against the tunnel wall. Blood pumps out of the wound in my arm. Ash snarls and pounces at me again, but Elijah swiftly hooks an arm around Ash’s throat, holding him back. Ash’s boots kick at the dirt as he struggles against Elijah, but the Bastet is too strong. Eventually, Ash’s thrashing slows down, until finally he stops, subdued, his bloodlust gone. Even so, Elijah doesn’t let go.

I check my neck, relieved to find Ash didn’t puncture my skin.

“Are you okay?” Elijah asks me.

“Yes,” I say, although the crack in my voice gives me away. Ash attacked me. How can I possibly be okay? I know Darklings drink human blood, but it’s the first time he’s ever tried to feed on me like I was prey.

“He’s hungry, and the smell of your blood made him crazy,” Elijah says quietly as I edge toward him. “He didn’t know what he was doing. You might want to bandage that arm, though.”

I go back to our recess and find Ash’s black headscarf in his bag. I rip a length of material from the headscarf and wrap it around my arm in an attempt to bandage it. It’s not perfect, but it stems the flow of blood and seems to calm Ash down a little. I sit on the pile of coats, still shaken.

“I’m sorry,” Ash manages to say.

“I know. It’s okay,” I reply, and then look at Elijah. “We need to get him some food. I heard some bats earlier. Maybe we can catch one of those . . . ?”

Elijah shakes his head. “Even if we could catch one, it wouldn’t be enough to feed him.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I wipe them away, hating the fact that I can’t help the boy I love. The Wrath isn’t just killing me; it’s killing him. Without saying another word, Elijah bites his wrist, causing blood to spill out of the puncture wounds, and holds his bleeding arm up to Ash.

“I’d rather die,” Ash spits out.

“You will die if you don’t eat,” Elijah replies.

“Won’t your blood kill him?” I say.

“No. Only Bastet venom is toxic to Darklings. Our blood can sustain them,” he says.

I turn to Ash, keeping my voice soft, pleading. “Please drink, Ash. For me?”

Ash briefly shuts his eyes and then reluctantly takes Elijah’s arm. He places his lips over the puncture wounds and begins to feed, tentatively at first, then with more fervor. A groan forms in his throat, and he draws Elijah’s arm closer, drinking greedily. Elijah sways slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. Blood spills over Ash’s lips, dripping onto the earth. He twists his fingers through Elijah’s hair and yanks his head to one side, sinking his fangs into Elijah’s neck. A sigh escapes Elijah’s lips as the Haze floods his bloodstream. He droops against Ash, his breathing labored.

“That’s enough,” I say after a minute, when I know Elijah can’t take any more.

“No,” Ash snarls, his lips berry red. “More.”

“Let him go,” I say firmly.

He releases Elijah, who falls back against the wall, drugged and drained. Ash’s thirst is still evident, his eyes wild and predatory. Just like the eyes of the Wrath that murdered my father. He sees the fear on my face, and it’s like a switch is flicked off inside him, the animal tamed. Ash wipes his mouth and somehow manages to get to his feet. He mutters something about needing to go to the restroom and heads farther up the tunnel, although I know he’s just trying to get away from me.

When Ash is gone, I tend to Elijah, checking his pulse. It’s slow but steady.

“Are you all right?” I ask him, ripping another strip off the black headscarf and wrapping it around his bloodied arm.

“Everything’s sparkling,” he says dreamily.

“That’s the Haze. It makes you feel funny,” I reply. That’s an understatement. I remember the time Ash accidentally gave me a hit of Haze—the euphoria and visions were intense. I’m actually a bit jealous of Elijah right now. I could do with a little happiness, even if it is chemically induced. The pain of my sister’s death and the grief over my own illness aches through me, weighing me down.

I unbutton his shirt so I can wipe the congealing blood off his neck and chest. Elijah softly purrs, enjoying my touch as I dab the rag over his toned muscles. I try to ignore him, knowing he’s under the influence right now and can’t help himself. Still, it feels illicit, wiping his bare chest when my fiancé is nearby.

“Thanks for helping Ash,” I say quietly when I’m done patching him up.

“Anything for you, pretty girl.” Elijah raises a hand and strokes my cheek. “I love you.”

I flinch away from him, struck by his words. It’s the Haze, I remind myself. It makes people think they’re in love with you when they’re not. Elijah falls asleep, a smile on his sensuous lips, and I know he’ll have good dreams. I doubt I’ll sleep a wink.

There’s movement behind me, and I turn. Ash silently walks out of the shadows, his eyes glittering. Grief is written all over his face. He doesn’t look at me, just sits down on the ground and leans back against the wall, shutting his eyes.

“Will he be all right?” Ash says after a moment.

“He’ll have a killer headache when he wakes up, but he’ll be fine.”

Ash gives a faint nod, then turns his face from me, but not before I see the tear slide down his cheek.

23.

ASH

THE LIGHT of the digital screen dims slightly as the battery starts to run out of juice. I’ve been watching the news all night, trying to keep my mind busy, but it hasn’t worked. All I can think about is how Elijah declared his love to Natalie, confirming my fears that she’s cheating on me with him. I turn off the digital screen to conserve the last of its energy.

Natalie’s head is on my lap. I gently brush her blond hair away from her face, grief aching through me. Despite my pain, anger and humiliation, I still love her. I can’t blame Elijah for being so infatuated with her—she’s incredible. Does she feel the same about him? Natalie seemed startled when he said he loved her, so maybe she doesn’t feel as strongly for him as he does for her. That gives me hope that maybe I haven’t lost her yet.

Elijah stirs, waking up. He sits up and groans, cradling his head. Haze Headaches are a common side effect when you’ve been injected with Darkling venom. The puncture wounds on his arm and neck are still raw, making my thirst return with a vengeance. I try not to think about how good he tasted. Bastet blood isn’t like anything I’ve ever had before. It’s such a rush. I want more.

“Don’t get any ideas, Darkling,” he says, reading my mind.

“I can say the same thing about you.” I must look pretty appetizing to a hungry Bastet right about now.

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not my taste at all.”

“No, blondes are more your thing, aren’t they?” I reply.

He looks at Natalie, then back up at me, a furrow between his brows.

“I’m not interested in Natalie,” he says.