Rise of the Phoenix

by Jamie McLachlan

  Vile words rise and travel to the tip of my tongue, yet I keep them in check beneath a veneer of calm. “Did you come here to gloat?”

  His smile fades, and he tilts his head.

  “Are you going to simply sit there?” My voice rises with each word. “You won. You’re the Chief Elite Member and I’m in jail. So when is my execution date?”

  “Two days from now.”

  His words wrap around my throat, suffocating me. After everything I’ve been through, it won’t matter in two days. Unacceptable. I may have nothing left, but I refuse to give up without at least trying. Raising my head, I thrust forward with my mind. He doesn’t even try to stop me, so I stumble into his landscape with ease. I visualize a sledge hammer in my hands and storm toward the brick wall, swinging hard. It connects, a loud thud resonating through his layout. I pause and examine the stone. Nothing. Not even a crack. I raise my hand and strike again. Sweat drips down my spine, but the barrier remains intact.

  He steps into my mind, his pace measured. Amusement spreads outward from him as he examines the pathetic wall I’ve built. He rests a palm against the barrier and presses. Several bricks budge and shift, sliding out from their place. They tumble to the ground, and more bricks collapse after them. He steps through the large hole, and his chuckle rings through my landscape. A scream of frustration tears from my throat, and I slam into him a third time.

  His voice rings in my head as he issues a command. “Stand and come here.”

  I spring to my feet, and my vision tilts from the abrupt movement. My legs move on their own volition, pulled along by his strings. The chain dangling from my wrists sways against my dress, a heavy thump bumping against my thighs. My anger swells with each step as I’m forced out of his mind.

  When I arrive, he utters another order. “Kneel.”

  My knees crash to the floor, and I reach out to steady myself, clutching the bars in front of me. My heart thunders against my chest, the frantic song reverberating in my ears. His domination echoes and drowns out the angry shouts rising from deep within. I wonder if he can hear her. When I look up, I find him watching me.

  He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Did you think you would succeed?”

  “Did you think I’d sit here and let you kill me?”

  A curl falls over his left brow, yet he doesn’t swipe it away.

  “No. In fact, I would have been disappointed if you had. But no matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to get through my barriers. I’ve spent my entire life building it, making sure it was stronger than anyone else’s.”

  I grip the bars and force the next question out. “Why are you here?”

  “To say goodbye.”

  He reaches through the bars and strokes my cheek. I should cringe backwards or at least smack his hand away. But a part of me, so desperate to survive, clings to hope—ready to accept his betrayal, but not ready to die. His warmth seeps into me, the gesture strangely affectionate. It’s as if he’s visiting a loved one. I grasp onto his wrist and clutch his sleeve. My chest expands and contracts as sharp bursts of air rush out of my nose and mouth. He tries to pull away, but I cling tighter.

  My growl twists into one word. “Why?”

  He reaches through with his other hand and pries my fingers loose. “Someone needs to take the blame, Moira. And, unfortunately, you can no longer be trusted.”

  “I did everything you asked! This has nothing to do with trust. You just can’t stand the idea that I slept with the detective!”

  He tugs on the end of his sleeve, smoothing the fabric into place.

  I clutch the bars and press my face close. “Is this what it’s all about? Are you upset that another man played with your toy? You didn’t mind when I was a concubine. Is it because I enjoyed the detective?”

  I barrel on, not waiting for an answer. “He was the best fuck I ever had. And it kills you.”

  Bitterness punctuates each word, and a dark green cloud, near black, rises between us.

  He clenches his hand and forces his fingers apart. “Careful. I can always change my mind and have you rot in prison instead. Would you prefer that, sweet Moira?”

  I grit my jaw and refuse to answer. He rises to his feet and drags the chair up to the wall. The back legs scrape along the compact dirt, and dust swirls around his feet. He sweeps down and picks up the lantern, lifting the metal cage high in the air. His face flares to life beneath the lamp’s full glow. Satisfaction oozes from his mind and drips onto the floor, forming a golden puddle at his feet. He’s won.

  And I’ve lost everything.

  Dark insects of despair crawl on the floor, creeping closer.

  “Goodbye, Moira.” He pauses and lifts his brow in a dramatic gesture. “Or should I say, ‘the Phoenix’?”

  “You won’t get away with this!”

  “I already have.”

  He turns and strolls down the hallway, away from my cell. I rattle the door, but it’s pointless. I’m back where it had all begun. And this time, no one will offer my freedom in exchange for my powers. I flick my gaze back and forth, not yet adjusted to the lack of light. Even if I can’t see them, I know the insects of desolation crawl onto my shoes. Silence envelops me and presses against me from all sides. A faint ringing echoes in my ears, taunting me as a familiar voice shouts in my head.

  You’ve ruined everything! Once again, because of you, we’re going to die.

  “My fault?” I grind my teeth. “If you would have left the detective alone, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  I skulk back onto the mattress and pull my knees up to my chest. Her accusations continue to rise, but I shove them back down, ignoring the voice until it vanishes completely. In its absence, a whip cracks through the air. My eyes scan the darkness, searching for the source. Deep down, I know it’s all in my head. The whip sounds once more, reverberating through my spine.

  A soft breath caresses my cheek, and Scott’s voice whispers into my ear. “Get up.”

  I shake my head and clamp my hands over my ears. Neither voice offers me comfort. Rather, they antagonize me, reminding me of my helplessness. Getting up is pointless. There’s nowhere for me to go. My shouts would fall useless, drowned out by the thick layer of earth separating me from the constables. And even if they could hear, they wouldn’t help. According to Icarus, I’m the Phoenix, the one responsible for all of the deaths.

  Would the detective even try to visit me?

  No, of course not. He has no reason to believe me. And if he did, Icarus would make sure no one else could visit. An extra precaution, knowing I can persuade whomever I want. I lean my head against the wall and let reality wash over me. In two days, I’ll be dead. Gone. The back of my eyes sting as tears build at the corners of my eyes. A furious wipe takes them away.

  I will not feel sorry for myself.

  10

  No one visits me after Icarus, not even to give me food or water. Two full days pass by. My stomach growls, and an ache spreads below my breasts. In my desperation, my mind conjures up images of food. Every time I breathe, a bouquet of dark roast coffee, fresh baked bread, and spiced meat teases my senses. The last time I had stood here, the first week had been the hardest. My body had fought and resisted as it remembered my previous life. Luckily, I only need to last the night.

  I huddle beneath the thin blanket, pulling it tight around my shoulders, but not even the extra layer relieves the chill shaking through my core. My teeth chatter, a rhythmic sound echoing in the darkness. I clamp my jaw closed and jump to my feet. Moving sounds better than freezing to death. Blood rushes to my extremities, a small comfort.

  After an eternity, boots scuff against the dirt, echoing along with my own. I pause and swivel around, facing the bars. A faint light twinkles beyond the edge, and the steps quicken along the path outside my cell. Hope springs up, a single speck of bright green. I retreat into the shadows, waiting. My eyes burn as they refuse to blink. A lantern appears, hovering below someone’s grasp,
and the sight sends my heart skittering to a stop.

  A soft voice whispers my name, clipped with urgency. “Moira?”

  My breath catches in my throat. A familiar face appears, yet I refuse to believe his presence is real. It’s all an illusion, born from my misery. Nothing more. Although the reason my mind would choose to summon Constable Jamieson evades me. His lips move again, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Go. Away.

  “Moira? Are you awake? It’s me, Patrick.”

  His emotions rush through the bars, shooting straight into my chest, searching. Without thought, I latch onto the hazy yellow threads and tug. Thoughts pool into me, tumbling into my mind. He’s here to save me. The delusion morphs into a painful reality, and my eyes flare open. No. Impossible. I push away from the wall and approach him. Confusion and curiosity fight for dominance. Why would he help someone like me? My feet drag, resisting to run away with hopefulness.

  He jumps, startled by my sudden appearance. “Ah, there you are.”

  “Why are you here?”

  His mouth quirks downward. “I-I came to help.”

  My features twist into a deeper scowl as I press my face close. His eyes dart to the side and widen. His anxiety bleeds through his weak barrier and heightens my unease. While he has always been kind, he’s still like the rest of them, blindly following the Elite’s rules. Did Icarus send him down as a test? Suspicion wraps around me and compels me to act without a moment’s hesitation. I blast through the walls in his mind and sift through his thoughts, probing for anything that will incriminate him.

  Instead of tensing, he relaxes. “You can trust me. I promise.”

  As if to prove his point, his honesty latches onto me, a thick slime coating my mind.

  I retreat, disturbed by the sentiment, and glare up at him. “Why would you help me at all?”

  He lowers the lantern and digs into his pocket with his other hand. “Because you’re my friend, and I don’t believe what Mr. Hayes says about you. You’re not the Phoenix.”

  Annoyance forces my gratitude to sink to the bottom. I’m not as guiltless as he believes. I may not be the Phoenix, but I’ve helped him. I’ve sent two people to their deaths, and I don’t regret either one of them. Still, he chooses to see the good rather than acknowledging the possibility of the bad. Naivety like that has only resulted in my downfall. Yet, here he stands, willing to help a murderer.

  “You don’t know that.” The words fall from my mouth, goading him, challenging the limits of his trust. “All the evidence points to that conclusion. Why do you refuse to believe it?”

  “Because I’ve been with you throughout the case. You don’t want the Phoenix to succeed any more than I do.”

  His faith in me stings, numbing me to the core. I want to shut him out, utter hateful words and perhaps even tell him the truth—anything to make him see who I really am. Because I don’t need his assurance. I don’t want his trust.

  And, most importantly, I don’t deserve his friendship.

  I pitch my voice lower, softer. “Some people aren’t always who you think they are.”

  He shifts, a small movement revealing his uncertainty. I sigh, hating myself for giving him a reason to doubt me. He’s the only one offering me help. Not even the detective had bothered to visit. A hard lump forms at the base of my throat as anguish threatens to release the dam of tears inside. I swallow it down, along with the pathetic voice whispering inside my head, telling me I’m mistaken. None of that matters.

  I stare at his hand, the one holding the key to my freedom. “I know who the Phoenix is. If you release me, I vow to bring him to you.”

  A lie, but one made with sincere intentions. If I bring them the Phoenix, they’ll all fall under his persuasion and put me back in prison. No, this is something I must do alone. Even if it leads to my death. The agony inside subsides, replaced with the cool flames of focused fortitude.

  He inserts the key into the lock. With one click, the door swings open. My heart races, threatening to burst forth from my chest. I lick my lips. Freedom teases my tongue, and my mind speeds to thoughts of the future. I inhale, savouring the flavour. My feet slide forward, but the chain’s heavy thump against my dress stops my progress. He approaches and unlocks the cold metal. They fall to the ground, a loud clank echoing around us. When I lower my arms, the sleeves of my dress rub against my tender skin. But the pain fades beneath the current of determination.

  He retrieves another key and presses it into my palm. “Follow the path all the way to the end. There, you’ll find a metal ladder that will bring you up into a small room. This key opens the door. Wait there, and I’ll come pick you up.”

  I curl my fingers over the key. “Thank you.”

  “I can’t give you the lantern. But if you follow the wall, you’ll have no problems.” He leans forward and pulls me into a tight embrace. “See you in a bit.”

  My breath rushes out from between my lips, and his words prick my chest. I shove the sensation aside and step out of his arms. He nods once and hurries back to the police station. I plant my hand against the wall and head in the opposite direction. Pain stabs my palm, but I refuse to loosen my hold around the key. The musky scent of rich earth permeates the air, along with the acrid stench of decay. The wall beneath my fingers extends into infinity, and a part of me worries I’ll never break free. My chest heaves as I draw in deep, ragged breaths.

  Just a little longer.

  Inside my mind, thunder booms as bright flashes cleave the sky. A gust of wind howls, trapped between the deep pit of stairs inside the mountain top. Another boom thunders from deep within, sending a quake through me and halting my progress. I grit my teeth and press through the agony. Sweat forms on my brow and falls into my vision. Her voice rumbles, splitting my mind into two.

  It’s time you released me.

  I mutter beneath my breath. “Not a chance.”

  You need me. Her tone softens, but remains firm. We need each other.

  A growl of frustration punctuates the silence. “What can you possibly offer?”

  When she falls quiet, a thread of anxiety unwinds from around me. Triumph rises within, and the tremor seizing my limbs no longer seems unbearable. I wipe the sweat from my brow and step forward.

  Whispered words rise above the chaos of the storm. My love, my friends. You don’t have to do this alone.

  A strange sensation, like wings brushing against my insides, flutters in my stomach. I wrap my arms around my waist, tightening as if I could stop the feeling from afflicting me.

  Annoyance sours my tongue, releasing venom. “You think your lover will help you? Then why didn’t he visit you in prison? Why didn’t he come when you needed him the most?”

  Her pause signals her defeat, yet she continues to press, snatching at broken threads of hope.

  He’s not the only one who can help.

  When I attempt another step, my foot fails to lift from the ground. My landscape shakes with the resounding thunder as her will battles mine. I grab my leg and force it to move. After several moments of exertion, I release my limb with a frustrated sigh. We’re wasting time.

  “Fine!”

  I storm into my mind and descend into the pit, the staircases moving at my will. When I reach the cavern, I leap across the gap. The walls glisten with moisture, shimmering to life with each spark that lights up the sky. At the end, the door stills, quieting at my presence. When I open the door, a gust of balmy air rushes past, forcing my eyes shut as I stagger back. A hand appears and pushes from the inside. She steps out, and her different-coloured eyes reflect the determination burning inside my chest.

  My mirror. My reflection. The one capable of love and compassion.

  Our eyes connect, and a silent message passes between us.

  My lips quirk up in a reluctant smile. “Just so you know, I’ll do everything and anything to ensure I survive.”

  She steps forward and raises her chin. “So will I.”

  The storm inside falls quiet as my
purpose sharpens into clarity. With my hand on the wall, I rush forward. In my haste, I stumble into a metal barrier. I pat the darkness, seeking. My fingers graze over the flakes of rust coating the ladder. Heaving myself up, I climb. After ten steps, a handle appears above. Hooking my right elbow around the bar, I push the door open. It springs up on its hinges, and I push my way through.

  Once on my feet, I trail halfway along the room before finally feeling the door beneath my fingertips. The key slips into the lock with ease and turns with a loud click. The hinges stick in place, forcing me to yank on the handle. A pale glow filters into the room from one of the streetlamps and illuminates the quiet road outside. Grey smoke billows up into the dark sky, mixing with the haze of clouds. The scent of metal and steam thickens the air, signalling my location.

  The south district.

  I lock the door behind me and slip the key into my pocket.

  Patrick had told me to wait for him, but I can’t let him get involved. He has already risked so much by releasing me from prison. Besides, the only people who can help me now are my fellow empaths. My gaze travels to one of the barred windows of the Pleasure House, the only one with light seeping through the curtains. After a quick scan, I scurry up the steps and rap on the door. A housemaid appears.

  I dive into her mind. “Bring me to Madame Josephine.”

  The woman’s face shifts into acquiescence, and she ushers me inside. I step into the foyer and scan the hallway. When no one appears, I lift my eyes up the steep staircase. A chill grips my spine and shakes my bones loose. I turn away and follow the maid to Madame Josephine’s office. The House Instigator’s tall, sleek form rises from behind the desk. The neatness of her pleated skirt and blouse contrast with the loose curls escaping her strict hairdo. Beneath her shadowed eyes, her mouth parts open. A bright yellow mist, threaded with darker specks, appears around her.

  I face the housemaid and weave persuasion into my words. “Return to your bed and stay there. You won’t tell anyone you saw me.”

  Compelled by my will, she turns away and exits, closing the door behind her. I wait a few seconds before facing Josephine, but she breaks the silence first, voicing her confusion.