The Eternal Dusk (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Two)

by Victoria J. Price

  Night had fallen over London, and the harsh streetlights made Alexander’s head ache. The bus squeaked to a halt, and he leaned over to see if Jo and Hazel stepped off. He may have been familiar with the lay of the land from the air, but from this new perspective, he was totally lost. A woman with a baby bundled against her chest stepped off, and the doors hushed shut.

  You’ll go back. You’ll find Fia. She’ll be safe. She had to be safe—Ohinyan still needed her. He needed her. And he was determined to keep his promise to come back to her.

  The bus ascended a hill and Alexander spotted a few buildings he thought he recognised, and a few stops later Jo and Hazel stepped off. He jumped down to help Hazel, trying not to pull her arm out in any way that might draw attention to them. Jo and Hazel could see him, but others could not, he swiftly reminded himself.

  They shuffled up the hill towards the heath in silence. Alexander was preparing his words for the angels—a suitable explanation as to why he’d taken so long, an apology… in his head it all sounded so ridiculous.

  “Well, if no one else is going to say it, I bloody well will. Where did that come from?” Jo gave a pointed look as she puffed her way up the hill, balancing half of Hazel’s weight on one shoulder.

  “To what are you referring?” Alexander asked, equally exhausted.

  “The bloody magic is what. Why didn’t you do any of that before?”

  Alexander sighed. “I couldn’t. Hazel, the Eternal Dusk, are there more of them?”

  “The inner circle members were all there—I can’t be certain, but I think most of them—the angels and the spirits handled them.”

  Jo coughed beside her.

  “And Jo.”

  A blue glow up ahead told Alexander the spirits and angels had arrived, and Halvar was already flying towards them.

  “Jo.” Halvar took Jo’s position, holding Hazel up against him.

  Jo stretched her arms. Her right eye was bruised, and her lip was swollen and crusted. Her knuckles too. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she muttered. But Halvar still brushed a few stray hairs from her eyes with his free hand, and Jo caught his hand with a smile.

  Halvar flexed his fingers through Jo’s, still supporting Hazel’s weight. “Sire?”

  “Wait until we reach the others,” Alexander replied, as they shuffled Hazel the last few steps to the apex of the hill. Angels and spirits stared at them as they approached, silent and waiting. Alexander wanted nothing more than to sit and catch his breath, but he wouldn’t. Not after what they’d all been through. Two angels stepped up to take Hazel, but she brushed them away with a smile.

  “Angels,” Alexander began, surveying the faces of angels and spirits that gazed back at him. If anyone passed by, all they would see was Jo and Hazel, but it was late, and Alexander knew from following Fia here on many nights that few ventured to the heath after dark. “Spirts. Thank you, all of you. Together, you’ve brought the Eternal Dusk to its knees.” Many of the spirits had fled, he realised, as he took count of the faces that stared back at him. Where to begin? So much had happened. He owed them an apology, but every way he started it, in his head it sounded like an excuse.

  “How did you do that, sire—your powers?” an angel asked. Part of her wing was burnt and her chin was bruised, but she spoke as if it didn’t bother her—angels were fast healers.

  “You went to Yggdrasil, didn’t you?” Hazel looked up at him as she brushed her hair from her eyes.

  Aside from her ankle Hazel seemed mostly unharmed. “I did, thanks to you. And to Kit.” Alexander had no doubt the fox was somewhere close by, watching them all. “After I met with the sky spirits, Hazel’s notes led me to another world,” he said to the angels and spirits. “I don’t know where—but there were maps, maps of Ohinyan, Earth—of locations of windows. There were maps of other worlds, too. There were other worlds there, around me.” He couldn’t explain it quickly enough. “I spoke with a group—they called themselves the Iders—they said they’d been keeping the angel’s magic safe, and they returned it to me.” He looked at his hands as he spoke. “I came straight back to you after that. I came as quickly as I could, I’m sorry—”

  “You saved us, sire.” It was the angel with the burnt wing. She looked at him earnestly, no hint of disdain across her face. The spirits were staring, too.

  A breeze picked up over the heath, carrying the scent of jasmine across their path, and Alexander felt the urgency to leave, to find Fia as soon as he could. But there was another promise to deliver on first. “Angels, I have one more thing to ask of you. The spirits you see here chose to help so that we might free them. I’m asking you to carry out your responsibilities to the spirits of Earth and set them free.”

  “But how?” Halvar asked. “We cannot do such a thing.”

  “We’ve never tried.” Alexander reached out to the nearest spirit, an old woman he recognised from back in the basement. “Thank you, for everything. Are you ready to go? Remember, it’s your decision.”

  The woman took Alexander’s hand and a smile broke across her wrinkled face. “I am.”

  “We’ll let go when you’re ready, okay?”

  “Thank you.” Even as a spirit, she seemed frail. How she could have fought against the witches, Alexander didn’t know.

  The woman looked up at him, and this time Alexander felt it, something passed between him and the spirit—an energy, a vibration Alexander couldn’t put his finger on. He knew the woman was ready. Alexander let go of her hands and in a flash of blue, she disappeared—to go and join the sky spirits.

  The rest of the spirits and the angels murmured at the sight. Alexander turned to them all. “Please, angels, this is your duty.” They moved immediately, reaching out to whichever spirit was nearest to them, one flash of blue after another.

  Alexander heard Jo’s gasp as he reached out for another spirit and another. The angels worked until all the spirits were gone, and they looked up at nothing but the moon in the night sky. The lights of London were too bright to see the stars from here. “Thank you, all of you. I cannot ask you to stay here any longer, if you wish to return to Ohinyan, I will lead you to the nearest window.”

  “Can I come?” Jo asked.

  “You’re needed here,” Hazel said.

  “Hmm, let me think. Run a shitty gym in central London where I do nothing of worth or run away to a parallel world with a gang of angels, find my friend and save the day? Tough choice. Let’s go.”

  “I’ll stay.” Halvar took Jo’s hand in his. “We have a duty to the spirits of Earth. If we all leave, none of them will be able to. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  “Well, I guess when yo—”

  “And I’ll need some help making sure the Eternal Dusk don’t miraculously resurface,” Hazel added.

  Alexander looked at his friends. They made a good team. And he hated the idea of leaving them behind—but he had to find Fia. Not just for himself, but for Ohinyan. Whether he’d decided to come back for her or not, Ohinyan still needed her.

  Halvar whispered something to Jo and she reached up, throwing her arms around his neck and murmuring, “It’s about time.” They shared a swift kiss, and Alexander had a feeling they’d be just fine without him.

  “Who among you wishes to stay?” He looked at the faces of the angels as he spoke. Many hands reached to the sky, too many to count, and Alexander laughed softly. Of course most of them would stay. And he held no judgement of those that didn’t. “Let me rephrase that. Which of you wish to return to Ohinyan? There is no shame in it—you have all suffered and I will ask no more of you. I owe you all my thanks, whether you stay or go.”

  A few hands shot up, hesitantly. Less than ten, Alexander counted. “Very well. I need to return to Ohinyan—the crisis is ongoing, and I think one of these other worlds might offer a solution. Halvar, my friend.” Halvar still held Jo’s hand in his. “You’re in charge here now. Thank you, for everything.” He reached for Halvar’s free arm and clasped it against
his. “Look after them.”

  Halvar nodded. “Sire.”

  “You better find her, angel boy, or I will come after you.” Jo lunged forwards and hugged him tightly, and Alexander stifled a laugh. She’d always been a good friend to Fia.

  “I will. And you’ll help Hazel?”

  Jo made a disgusted sound. “That doesn’t even deserve an answer. We’ve got this witch-bashing down, haven’t we, Hazel?” She gently elbowed Hazel beside her.

  The witch was clutching the purple stone at the end of her necklace, her eyes glassy and bright. “Send Noor my regards, Alexander.” She reached out her hand to shake his.

  “Take care of each other, all of you.” He gestured to the handful of angels that were returning to Ohinyan with him, took one last look at his friends, and pushed off into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Erebus

  E rebus had reached the cliffs as soon as Fia had landed on the ship. Her friends’ ship, judging by the welcome she received. He’d clicked his tongue as he’d watched. The ship was facing towards Djira, and he had no doubt they’d planned to meet her there.

  He’d considered his options. He could sink the ship and take her to shore. But she’d never go with him after that, even though he could think of a handful of reasons to justify such an act. Instead, he’d followed the ship to Djira, keeping to the clouds as Fia disembarked and met with two of her angel friends. A female and Malachai, Alexander’s right hand. Pathetic. He’d stayed in the shadows of Djira for a day and a night, before deciding to return to Earth. They won’t be leaving any time soon if they’re searching for the Tahjiik.

  And although the temptation to turn over every stone in Djira searching for Fia was stronger than his desire to return to Earth, Erebus had reluctantly left. He flew now over the buildings of London, wondering whether he’d made the right decision. He cast his doubts aside and focused on the task at hand—he had an army to unleash.

  As he reached the end of the alley he was searching for, two familiar witches turned off the main street, one with slicked-back hair and a gold tooth glistening in the lamplight. Aidan and Eddie. Erebus sighed. Degenerates. He touched down in front of them, blocking their path. “You two. Report.”

  “Oh, er, yes. Er—yes, sire,” Aidan spluttered. “We was just about to start our shift, had the day off today, see.”

  He held a cup in his hand and a paper bag of foul-smelling food, grease soaking through and turning the paper translucent. Given the beads of sweat on Aidan’s head and the paunch pushing against his black jacket, his chosen food was precisely the opposite of what he should have been eating.

  “I don’t mean a report about your day. I want an update on the army. I see that’s too much to ask.” Erebus didn’t wait for a response. He turned and walked to the metal door at the end of the alleyway, enjoying the feeling of the cobbled stones against his feet as he walked. Aidan and Eddie were bickering quietly behind him but said nothing in response. Good. Nothing they could say would be of interest, and Erebus gave himself a silent reminder to check in with the coven leaders about their intentions for the two reprobates. They were incidental, as far as he was concerned, and his preference was that they were disposed of. So incidental, he’d take little joy in disposing of them himself.

  The building was quiet as they descended the staircase. Too quiet. He pushed into the first room that housed part of the army. Empty. “Where are they?” he roared, his body slipping away from him as he turned into his shadow form, searching the remaining floors for spirits. None. No witches either. A thunderous yell escaped from him as he plummeted through the building into the basement and dropped back into his body just as Aidan and Eddie pushed through the doorway.

  Aidan dropped his cup, ice and liquid splashing at his feet. “Oh, shit!”

  The room was destroyed. Witches littered the floor. The few that were not dead, groaned and sobbed. At the end of the room the wooden balcony had been destroyed, pillars and beams broken and splintered, a mountain of wood and debris collapsed in a heap.

  Eddie coughed and waved at dust but said nothing as he walked from body to body.

  Erebus seethed. He’d tasked Lorn with one assignment. One. He should have known her temper would get the better of her—her blinding arrogance. And as his own temper flared, something in the pile of rubble began to stir.

  “I think there’s someone in there,” Eddie said.

  A piece of leather-like fabric poked up from the debris. Lorn. But how did she end up here? What trick did the angels use to escape, to cause so much destruction? Alexander. “I told her to find him. Perhaps if she’d listened, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

  “Who, sire?” Aidan asked.

  Erebus’s darkness had seeped from his fingertips, snaking its way around his arms and up his neck. Lorn had ruined everything. If he hadn’t returned to check on her last time, Fia wouldn’t be lost to him either. He flew towards the debris as a bloodied hand pushed aside a piece of shattered wood, and his anger erupted. He reached for Lorn with his powers, pulling her out from the rubble. “You foolish—”

  Lorn flung her hands out towards him, and a jet of flames caught him right in the centre of his chest and—it hurt.

  “This is your fault,” she spat.

  The stench of burning flesh permeated the air. He fell into his shadow form and snaked himself around her body, crushing her arms to her sides. “I don’t know how you managed that,” he hissed. “But it will not go unpunished. Neither will your failures here.”

  He tightened his grip on her, encasing her entirely in his darkness and launched upwards, tearing through the ceiling and the next and the next, eruptions of wood and concrete and dust exploding behind him as he surged towards the roof, Eddie and Aidan calling out behind him.

  Lorn struggled in his grip but he held her tight. “I should never have brought you here,” he seethed as he burst through the roof, up and up, over the towering buildings of London. He felt the warmth of Lorn’s flames as she struggled against him, but it would do nothing to harm him in his shadow form—at least, he assumed it wouldn’t. “Keep that up and I will fly above the clouds and release you.”

  She stilled. Her flames caused damage. How?

  He tore through his thoughts as he flew away from London, Lorn held tight in his grasp. He’d brought her to Earth this way, and she’d been much more compliant then. He pushed aside thoughts that he wasn’t ready to think about, not yet.

  The lights of the city gave way to darkness as he flew over open expanses of countryside towards the ocean. Every now and then the glittering below let him know they still hadn’t made it to water. He could feel the throb of Lorn’s attack, even though he wasn’t in his physical body, the ache was there like a phantom limb. No ordinary flame could harm him. But Lorn wasn’t the fire mother, he felt certain of it. Terah had many descendants, he knew that, but still, it didn’t make any sense. There could be only one fire mother.

  They passed through the window to Ohinyan, somewhere in the skies above Estesh. He needed to find Fia, but he wasn’t willing to let Lorn escape. Not without a few experiments first.

  “Where are we going? I’m done with your demands.” She wrestled against his grip, but it was no use, and she soon stopped. He’d have to act quickly when he landed, to contain her as quickly as possible; even if she were injured it was too great a risk to take again. In this form, he travelled faster than any angel could fly, and he was soon crossing over the land to come into Djira from the south, unseen by any watchful eyes—unseen from the harbour. If Fia was no longer there, he’d have to find her friends’ ships, first.

  For a moment, his thoughts drifted to his father’s isolated existence. To how it had mirrored his own for so many years. So many, he’d witnessed, felt isolation to be a punishment. But Erebus knew better. It had given him time to prepare, to observe the vile nature of the men and the creatures of Earth and Ohinyan. How little they’d achieved. How little they deserved
. They would all get what was coming to them, in time.

  In the dawn half-light, he could make out the stone walls of Djira cut straight from the rock. It was quite the masterpiece, he had to admit—the raw rock simply narrowed into a perfectly chiselled wall. Skilled hands had built this city, and if ever he chose a home for himself in Ohinyan, it was most likely to be here.

  He settled on the roof of a tower, polished gold rings wrapped around its supporting pillars glistening in the morning light. He released Lorn but held a slither of darkness tight around her throat before falling back into his body.

  Her face was cut and bloodied, her hair coated in dust and debris from the building back in London. To think, he had considered kissing her before. She was a mess. “If you so much as raise a finger, I will end your life without a moment’s thought.”

  The wind picked up and ruffled her hair. “You wouldn’t dare,” Lorn spat. Her eyes blazed and she clenched her fists as she spoke, but she didn’t raise her arms to attack.

  Loose rocks fell somewhere below them, and Erebus swung around to survey the city. There was only one other tower nearby, lower down than the one they stood on, but he saw no movement. “I hate to break it to you, but you aren’t the great fire mother, Lorn.”

  Sparks erupted from Lorn’s fingertips, but she did nothing. “If not me, then who?”

  Erebus laughed as he squeezed his grip around her neck even tighter. In truth, it might have been the only thing keeping her upright, as he noticed more of the wounds she’d received from the collapsed basement. “The girl from Earth. Fia. She’s already more magnificent than you’ll ever be.”