Fate of Flames

by Sarah Raughley

  The last remaining phantom broke away, heading for Belle instead. She was paralyzed. She could only drop to her knees as it tore toward her.

  I wasted no time. I tossed the sword with expert aim, piercing its neck just as it lifted its terrible elongated head. It crashed a short distance from Belle, who remained on the ground, her disbelieving eyes fixed on me. The sword disappeared; I willed it away, only to summon it once more to my hand when it came time to face Saul.

  I relished the familiar heat of the leather hilt against my palm. Yes, exquisite. How I longed for this: to breathe air again, to feel the breeze on my face and the muscles in my legs and arms burning with acid as I worked them. There were no sensations in the world of the white stream, but here in the world of the living, my heart beat again, its steady rhythm pounding my chest.

  I was alive. I was alive again.

  A tear budded in the corner of my eye as I began toward Saul. After all, it was because of him that I had died in the first place. I simply had to finish him off. Then I would pick up where I’d left off. I could start my life again.

  No.

  I stopped, my foot cemented to the ground. It wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard I tried to move it.

  This is my body. Mine.

  “Maia,” I hissed.

  This is my body. The voice grew louder as the girl crawled out from the grave of her own mind. Get out.

  “No . . .” My sword fell from my grip and dissipated into the air, my arms frozen in place. “You fool, it’s almost finished.”

  Get out! I said get out!

  It was a tug-of-war between two minds, but with only parts of mine still intact, I was fighting a losing battle. It was as if I was sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss. The force pulled me down, away from the flesh, and back toward the darkness.

  “Not again,” I whispered. “Please, not again.” My lips trembled. “Don’t make me go back. . . .”

  I was gone in the next second.

  • • •

  I woke up on the ground feeling like crap, with my body ridiculously sore and my muscles burning fire. I’d only just raised my head when I saw Saul darting toward me.

  “Natalya, look out!” cried Belle.

  I was too slow to evade him, but before he could reach me, the earth shifted and broke, swallowing Saul in a pit. Chae Rin. And it was Lake who carried her from the train, the two girls flying through the air to reach me. Thank god.

  “Maia!” Once she touched down behind me, Lake ran to my side, yanking me up by the arm. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”

  “Watch out!” Chae Rin shoved Lake aside, using the momentum to boost herself back. Saul had appeared behind her, the blade he swung just managing to slice stray hairs from Lake’s ponytail. It was Rhys’s blade. He must have found it in the grass.

  My body froze. Rhys.

  Rhys.

  The blood drained from my face, and for a moment the world fell to nothingness. It was precisely the opportunity Saul had been looking for.

  “Maia!”

  I wasn’t even sure who’d yelled my name. My body couldn’t move fast enough. Saul was behind me, Rhys’s blade against my neck.

  “Step aside.” With his free arm he hooked me by the waist, my back flat against his hard chest. I couldn’t even flinch from the sting of his blade, taut against my neck.

  Chae Rin and Lake exchanged glances. Each girl looked as if she was fighting with herself, but eventually they acquiesced, stepping back.

  “You really don’t understand everything that I’ve been through, do you?” His hot breath brushed the back of my ear. “I never asked for any of this. You have no idea.”

  “Oh, poor genocidal maniac. Are you kidding me right now?” Chae Rin looked utterly disgusted. “Why don’t you can the speech, asshole, because nobody gives a crap.”

  As Lake shot Chae Rin a frantic look, Saul laughed. “Maybe. Maybe I don’t deserve redemption. But I’ve already come this far, and I’ve suffered more than enough, to the point where I thought death would be a kindness. But you won’t understand. Not until you know what it’s like to be trapped in your mind.”

  But I did know. I’d just experienced the hell of it. It was like watching the world through a foggy window of a cold, dark cellar. Alone. Terrified. I knew what it felt like to have hope ripped away with each movement your body made without your command. After having known that infinite despair, I couldn’t imagine living for over a century in my own body without being able to feel my heartbeat. But Nick had. Even if he’d begun his life as a normal boy, the experience had changed him. Shattered him. It wasn’t hard to see why.

  And yet . . .

  “I don’t care,” I said carefully, because every shift of my jaw risked my throat being cut. A thin trickle of blood was already dribbling down my neck. “You killed people. You killed them. And they didn’t want to die.”

  I thought back to the funeral, to the three caskets lowered into the ground one by one. I thought of Uncle Nathan, his hand squeezing my shoulder as if begging me not to follow.

  “I won’t forgive you.” My whole body tensed. Fury, first a low murmur, billowed and swelled, burning through the exhaustion in my bones, shooting to the tips of my fingers. “Ever.”

  The flames emerged from my entire body, shattering the knife against my throat, scorching Saul’s skin. It emerged from the fire, the weapon I’d summoned before. It rested in my hands now, the smooth oak handle, the long blade curving into a sickle. I’d called it once out of fear. Now it stood as a manifestation of my anger.

  I didn’t let myself think. Shutting my eyes, I swiveled around and swung the scythe. I felt the blade slice through flesh, the resistance of Saul’s body reverberating up the pole and through my arms, jolting my eyes open.

  Saul staggered back, screaming. Tears leaked from his eyes as he gripped his stomach, tortured by the pain. I was terrified, but I wasn’t finished. Not yet. The scythe was heavier than I’d expected, but I managed to lift it above my head. Before Saul could react, I brought it down, taking his hand, and his ring with it.

  The screaming was too much for me to handle. Shocked, I stepped back. All the fury vanished in an instant, and my flames and my weapon vanished with it.

  I looked at him. And Saul—no, Nick—looked at me too. A boy whose life had been taken from him had decided to take life in return. Because of that alone he had no right to look so hurt, so betrayed as his blood stained the grass.

  He tried to open his mouth to speak, but with the blood draining quickly from his body, he could only move his lips, his eyelids fluttering. He used the last bit of strength he had to disappear one last time. To where, I didn’t know, but he was gone. That was all that mattered.

  I dropped to my knees, totally and utterly exhausted.

  “Maia!” Lake ran to me. “Oh my god!” Kneeling next to me, she grabbed my shoulders. “Are you okay? Here, look at me.”

  My mouth quirked into a little smile as Lake squished my face and rotated it every which way, looking for bruises. “I’m okay, Lake. Just tired.”

  “You’re more than okay.” Chae Rin playfully nudged me in the back with her knee, laughing as I rested against her legs. “That was pretty badass, kid. When did you learn to do that?”

  I had no idea. My mind was floating away from me as the weariness annexed my body, weighing my limbs. It was lucky Chae Rin was behind me, because I could barely keep my head up.

  “It was Natalya who opened the way for her,” Belle said.

  I hadn’t even noticed Belle rising to her feet. She still looked unsteady on them as she trudged across the grassy field. Her chest rose and fell at erratic intervals. Though she wasn’t fully recovered yet, she reached us nonetheless.

  But Belle wasn’t interested in us at all.

  Lake sat on the ground, watching with the rest of us as Belle stooped down and slid the ring off of Saul’s hand. “Belle?”

  “The stone is darker now.” Belle placed it in he
r palm, eyeing it strangely. “Saul killed so many people. For this.” Pinching the metal, she held it close to her face, squinting as she peered into the pearl. “He must have been happy every time the darkness spread.”

  “What are you babbling about?” Chae Rin’s leg shifted against my back.

  “That’s right,” Belle said. “You weren’t here when he explained it. The ring controls phantoms, and when the phantoms take lives, their deaths strengthen the power of the stone.” Belle was very quiet. “So that it can grant wishes.”

  Silence stretched between us.

  “Sounds daffy.” Lake laughed nervously, quieting down when she realized no one was laughing with her.

  “It does.” Belle sucked in a breath. “But I wonder.”

  She looked at me, and immediately I understood. Belle didn’t have to say a word. She’d just seen her come back, after all. Natalya. For me, it felt like that moment had lasted hours, days, decades. But for Belle it had gone by in an instant. Too quickly.

  Saul had already told us that the ring was enough to bring back Marian, to force her consciousness permanently into the driver’s seat of my body. Surely it would be enough for Natalya too. Belle had to have been thinking it.

  I knew how it felt. How many times had I called out for June during those long, terrifying minutes I’d spent trapped inside my own body? How many wishes had I uttered deep inside my heart?

  Truthfully, I wouldn’t have blamed Belle if she decided to sacrifice my life for Natalya’s. But no matter what, I couldn’t die yet.

  I wasn’t the only Finley left. That was reason enough.

  “Please . . .” The tear rolled down my chin, mingling with the bloodstains on my neck. “Please don’t hurt me, Belle. . . .”

  Simple words. Weak. Desperate.

  The ring fell from Belle’s hands. It was like she’d finally awoken. Whatever had possessed her left with a violent shudder, and she crumpled to the ground. In the pool of blood Saul left behind, Belle laid her head in her hands and cried.

  “AGENT LANGLEY, AS ACTING DIRECTOR of the European Division of the Sect and head of the London headquarters facility, don’t you feel even the slightest bit of responsibility for the escape of the international terrorist known as ‘Saul’?”

  “Considering it’s the Sect’s responsibility to deal with issues of international security as it pertains to the phantoms, do you believe that more coordination and cooperation with the world’s leading governments would have led to a different result?”

  “What do you say to the growing number of detractors who claim now, more than ever, that the Greenwich Accords should be repealed?”

  Sibyl had nerves of steel. I didn’t know how she did it. Despite the vitriol spewed at her from the venomous fangs of the press, she stood at the podium with the hardened, almost defiant confidence of a woman who’d seen and handled much worse.

  Back at London HQ, Lake, Chae Rin, and I watched the press conference on TV from inside Cheryl’s office. We only just got back to London earlier this morning, and considering I’d had my body snatched, my mind broken, and my life almost snuffed out countless times, I was hoping Cheryl would have at least given us the day off before summoning us. Nope.

  As we watched Sibyl respond to questions without giving any legitimate answers, Chae Rin shook her head. “It is cold as ice in there.”

  “Well, unfortunately, letting Saul escape is kind of a huge deal.” Cheryl set the controller on the TV and sat at her desk. “Colossal, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “I dunno, Maia got him pretty good,” said Lake. “He’s probably dead.”

  “He still got away. And Effigies heal. And we have no idea what he’s going to do next.” Taking off her glasses, Cheryl rubbed her eyes. “It’s literally the mother of all disasters. How did this happen?”

  Back at the press conference, a short, bald reporter raised his pen. “Do you even know the whereabouts of Saul now? Do you have any leads?”

  That may have been the first time Sibyl showed any signs of annoyance. She sighed. “I’ve answered this, Richard, and yes, it’s still classified.”

  “Actually, I believe I can provide some insight into these matters.”

  The murmurs and flashing lights from the crowd intensified as Bartholomäus Blackwell joined Sibyl on the podium.

  Cheryl shoved her glasses back onto her face, too shocked to notice when they slid back down her nose. “Blackwell? What . . . ?”

  “What’s wrong?” Chae Rin shrugged. “He’s the representative of the Council, isn’t he?”

  “The bloody Duchess of York doesn’t answer questions concerning matters of British national security, does she?” Apparently, Cheryl’s cockney accent slipped through only when she wanted to hit someone. With a shaky exhale, she placed it back in its cage and continued. “He’s more of a diplomat than anything else. He’s just the face of the Council.”

  His face, right now, seemed almost gleeful as he motioned for Sibyl to step aside. It was only too obvious that the woman was trying very hard to maintain her poker face, clenching her jaw, probably so she didn’t say anything fit for a scandalous sound bite. Blackwell may have been somewhat ceremonial, but as the official representative of the Council he outranked her; he must have, because Sibyl stepped aside, just as he asked.

  “All your questions are understandable, of course. The matter of the international terrorist known as ‘Saul’ has not been handled to the best of the Sect’s ability. This I admit.”

  Blackwell’s red lips and pale skin made him look almost vampiric standing on the podium. Though his suit was professional, I could see why Sibyl didn’t want him to take over. While Sibyl had kept her expression neutral, he wore an almost mocking grin, just as he had when he’d assessed me in the Cathedral.

  “As for how Saul escaped, we already have the culprit in custody.”

  “And who is that culprit?” a woman asked him from the crowd.

  Blackwell smiled. “His name is Agent Vasily Volkov, though he was aided by members of the London facility’s Research and Development department.”

  As Lake gasped, I sat up in my chair. “Vasily?”

  “Dear god.” Cheryl buried her face in her hands.

  As the crowd erupted, Sibyl shot for the podium. I could tell she was hissing something, but Blackwell put up a hand to stop her.

  “Well, this whole press conference just went down the pan real quick,” said Lake.

  “He’s insane.” Cheryl shook his head. “Telling the crowd that it was Sect personnel who let him go? Is he trying to turn everyone against us?”

  Vasily. I thought of his fox grin and shuddered. But then Vasily only followed orders. He’d said so himself. If Vasily was willing to cut off a ringmaster’s finger for the ring, if he was willing to kill me to keep me from discovering Alice and Nick’s secrets, and if he was willing to set Saul free, it was only because someone had ordered him to.

  I narrowed my eyes as I watched Blackwell slide his hands into his pockets.

  Once the press conference ended, the television news pundits began their discussion. The three of us were, needless to say, a little worried by Cheryl’s bloodshot eyes, so Lake granted her the mercy of changing the channel.

  BREAKING: LONDON REACTS TO THE PHANTOM TRAIN ATTACK

  “The . . . phantom train?” Chae Rin raised an eyebrow. “Is this about us?”

  It was. BBC reporters had gone throughout London to interview surviving passengers from last night’s attack, along with their families, and really anyone they could snag off the street. I still wasn’t used to it: being talked about, having people know who, and what, I was. Squirming in my seat, I prepared for the worst.

  “It was terrifying, man, but those girls, they saved us. They were seriously brilliant.”

  I didn’t even recognize the guy speaking. The only face stitched into my mind after the attack, cruelly, and maybe permanently, was the man whose briefcase I’d taken. I could still see the terror in his ey
es as he slid down the hill.

  But this guy was different, as was the teenage girl who told the story of how Lake pushed the train car back onto the tracks when it was just about topple down the hill.

  “I wasn’t in that car. I was in the next one. We were fine for the most part—the phantoms didn’t attack us, but I saw some of the stuff happening outside from the monitors.”

  She jittered as she spoke. She was probably still wired from the residual terror in her system, but it was clear there was something else there, beyond the fright.

  “They saved us,” she said. “The Effigies saved our lives.”

  It was a refrain repeated throughout the interviews. And no matter how intently I stared at the screen, it just couldn’t sink in.

  “Interesting.” Cheryl swept her hair out of her face and leaned in, watching closely. “I know Sibyl hasn’t had a chance to tell you, but you guys really did do a good job out there.”

  As Cheryl pulled a tablet out of her drawer and started clicking, Lake looked at us, still unsure.

  “We couldn’t bring Saul back.” She wrung her hands. “And honestly, a lot of people . . .”

  Died. A lot of people died. None of us could forget that.

  “Battles have casualties, Victoria,” said Cheryl. “You can’t save everyone. As an Effigy, you should know that now. Lucky for us, it seems your popularity’s on the rise regardless.”

  Cheryl fell silent as she read off her device, her lips widening into a grin.

  “You’ve got fans,” she said, the screen reflecting in her glasses. “Lots of them. This is perfect.” Cheryl set down the tablet. “You know, maybe you were on to something with the whole PR thing, Lake.”

  Lake looked as confused as the rest of us. “What do you mean?”

  “You said it before, didn’t you? The Sect needs a face. And not Blackwell’s.” Cheryl spat his name. “We need friendlier faces. Ones the general public can get behind and support. Yeah.” Cheryl sat back in her seat, letting her chair rotate on its axis. “We need to reassure them that, despite any little problems here and there, the Sect is doing things right.”