They all continue arguing until one tiny voice pierces through their anger. “I don’t want to die. I have a wife and children. Please.”
The plea of that one man quiets them all. Their thoughts drift toward their loved ones, and the hint of hope from before blossoms and overshadows their doubt. They slide in my direction and fall right into my hands. Seconds tick by as they struggle with the inevitable. My lips spread into a knowing smirk. I have them exactly where I want them, and they know it.
One of the Elite members speaks. “We accept.”
“A wise choice.” I turn toward the stairs leading up to the station. “Give me a moment to fetch the keys. Josephine. Icarus.”
Josephine approaches. “Right behind you.”
The soles of my shoes grind against the rough gravel steps. I keep one hand, the one holding the revolver, on the wall and the other outstretched before me. As soon as my fingers touch the door, I slow to a full stop. Behind me, Josephine’s breathing sounds louder than the chatter on the other side of the door. I relax my muscles and calm my breathing. One. Two. Three.
I turn the knob and push the door open. “Well, boys, everything is fine downstairs.”
As I turn my head, four blockers look up from their seats.
One jumps up from his chair. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Hey, wait.” Another rises to his feet. “You’re that concubine Scott was talking about.”
“I am.”
I dive into his mind. Place your weapon on the desk in front of you.
In the corner of my eye, Josephine and Icarus step out of the shadows. I focus back on the blocker and clench my jaw. Veins bulge in his neck, and red creeps up his face. He fights my persuasion, and the command fades.
I bury my persuasion deeper into his landscape. Don’t resist. Hand over your weapon!
His eyes snap shut, yet his hand moves to his waist. He slips the revolver out from his trousers and sets it down on the desk between us. I shuffle forward and seize the gun. After I retreat from his mind, my eyes search for Josephine and Icarus. Josephine holds her revolver up at one of the blockers. He lifts his hands high in the air, but glares at her. My gaze moves to my right. One of the blockers sits in a chair, with his hands splayed on his thighs. He doesn’t move or speak, only sits and stares at the ground before him. The fourth blocker stands by a desk, his upper half bent over as he clutches his nose. Blood trickles down his face, and the sight reminds me of Keenan.
I turn my attention on Icarus. “What happened?”
“He wouldn’t listen.”
My gaze roams over the blockers. “Which one of you has the keys?”
None of them speak. A jingle to my right draws my attention back on Icarus. He dangles the ring of keys in front of him and wears a mischievous smile. I stomp toward him and swing my arm. In a flash, he sweeps the keys out of my reach. My face twists into annoyance.
He leans close. “You used to love games.”
“I don’t have time to play.”
I press the end of my revolver against his chest. A deep chuckle rumbles through him as he lowers his arm. Without another word, I seize the keys and turn away from him. I walk toward one of the desks and slide one of the drawers open. My lips curve into a smile as my gaze settles on the items inside. I pull out four sets of handcuffs and throw two to Icarus and one to Josephine. Josephine catches hers with ease and approaches one of the blockers.
Icarus halts her progress. “I have a better idea.”
He cuffs one of the blocker’s wrist and uses the other end to hook another blocker. Josephine helps him lock them all together, so they form a circle with their backs facing each other. Two of them struggle against their restraints, pulling the other two along with them.
Icarus stares at them, his eyes flashing with amusement. “Fight all you want, but you’re not getting out of those.”
He tugs them into one of the holding rooms and slams the door closed. I search the keys and try a few in the lock before finally finding the correct one. With the blockers locked in the room, I head back down into the prison, taking one of the lanterns with me to illuminate my way. When I arrive at the bottom of the steps, I head straight for the cell containing the Chief. I unlock the bars and swing the door open.
I look the Chief in the eye. “We’ll need as many of your men who are willing to help.”
Leaving them to decide amongst themselves, I stroll down farther into the prison. The lantern swings as I hold it high, and the light flickers over various faces. I only stop when I find the one I’m looking for. Keenan sits in a cell all by himself. The shadows cling to his face and body, yet I would recognize him anywhere. His eyes slide up to meet mine. The ferocity of his gaze causes me to look away. I lower the lantern, so his face falls once more into darkness. Swallowing back the emotions that rush up to greet me, I unlock his door.
The creak in the metal sets my bones rattling in anticipation. Will he act as if nothing has happened between us, like the day we first met? Or will he show me a hint of emotion, even if it’s disappointment, or worse, condemnation? He rises to his feet and storms past me without a word, unknowingly answering my question.
When I walk by the other cells, several Elite members crowd the front, pressing into the bars.
One reaches out to me. “What about us? You promised you would release us!”
“My promise still stands.” I cringe away from his outstretched hand. “But for your own safety, you will remain here until we succeed.”
I don’t tell them the truth—that my insistence is based off selfish desires. For years, they’ve enslaved my kind, taking away our freedom to live and procreate. If anything, they deserve to suffer in equal measure. But having them imprisoned until they die doesn’t grant me the things I want. My gaze shifts to Keenan’s back. Fear drips down the walls inside my mind and into the water, threatening everything I hold dear to my heart. I remind myself I want this, even if Keenan refuses to forgive me.
When we arrive at the top of the steps, he turns around to face me. Dried blood stains his mouth and chin, and purple shadows haunt the bridge of his nose. But behind his broken façade, his eyes say everything, even when his face remains calm. The green pools of light pierce through me and reflect the outrage burning through his mind. I shuffle backwards until I remember the steps behind me. Even though my feet remain fixed on the ground, my body sways as if I’m falling to my doom. His mouth parts, and I tense in preparation, waiting for his accusations, for the animosity that has replaced his love.
He hisses his words beneath his breath. “Is this what you two planned all along, you and Mr. Hayes? Was Scott part of the plan, too?”
“I’m not working with either one of them.”
The words tumble out, yet I immediately regret them. Because, technically, I aligned myself with Icarus in order to defeat Scott.
His eyes narrow into slits. “I find that hard to believe, considering all the lies you’ve told.”
His words sink to the bottom of the pool in my mind where they sting and threaten to unlock the chest.
I recover from the blow and speak with an even tone. “I was going to tell you the truth. I just didn’t know how.”
I pause and glance to my right. Everyone else inside the station is too preoccupied with arguing to notice me and Keenan. Though now is hardly the time, he needs to know the truth. What I’m about to tell him will give him cause to arrest me. My freedom could end right here. But if I don’t tell him, he’ll continue to think I’m with Icarus.
The words rush out of me. “What Daniel told you is only part of the truth. Several years ago, a dear friend of mine died. Her name was Charlotte, and she killed herself. She would rather die than spend another day as Mr. Anderson’s toy. I don’t need to tell you what he did to her, because you saw the client lists. You saw what kind of things he enjoyed. She might have hung herself, but Mr. Anderson is responsible for her departure.”
My fists clench at my sides, but
I continue. “I couldn’t tell you any of this because it’s one of the many memories Icarus blocked from my mind. Charlotte’s death is the reason I agreed to help Icarus. I wanted revenge. I wanted to kill the man who stole my friend. Icarus was one of my frequent clients at the time, and he offered me a bargain. He would give me Mr. Anderson if I persuaded Madame Del Mar to commit suicide. So I did. I planted the seed that would only take hold once a set of words were delivered to her. I didn’t hesitate. And I don’t regret it. She was awful.”
He scrutinizes me, the gears inside his mind rotating in a loud clatter in the silence.
I focus on his Adam’s apple, unable to bear the full intensity of his gaze. “After that, Icarus had Scott purchase me. I think he did that not only to fulfill a promise he made me, but to also protect his identity. That’s when he blocked my memories of Charlotte, Mr. Anderson, and all the ones of us together. Yes, we were lovers. And I believe at one point, I thought I loved him.”
My voice catches, and the heat inside me intensifies. “But you have to understand he was one of three people to show me kindness. I was naïve and in pain. I wanted my tormentors to suffer as I had.”
I backpedal, realizing he might mistake my words. “I’m not trying to make excuses for my behaviour. I wanted you to know the whole truth. You deserve that.”
The muscles in his jaw tighten, forcing my gaze back up. The second I look into his eyes, a wave of his emotions crash into me. I try to focus on separating them, but one overwhelms the others and bombards me. Anguish. His eyes close, a brief movement stretching through time. When he finally regains his control, his expression resumes its usual aloofness. But it’s too late. A thick coat of his anger clings to my body, squeezing the air out of my lungs.
His voice lowers into a deadly monotone. “Then it’s true. You are working for Icarus, have been all along.”
“No.” I shake my head, only to realize my mistake. “I mean, I was. Before I knew you. I stopped working for him the day he erased my memories. I don’t agree with everything he’s done.”
“If that’s true, then why is he here now?”
“He’s here to help us.”
He shakes his head, and his eyes dart to Icarus. “People like him don’t help. They only do what benefits themselves.”
Deep down, I feel as if his words are also aimed at me.
“I said he’s here to help us.” I harden my voice, not bothering to follow his gaze. “I never said he was trustworthy. Besides, we need him. He’s the only one powerful enough to defeat Scott.”
His attention shifts back to me. “What about you?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and focus on a speck of blood on his shirt. “My barriers are weak. Scott can easily control me if he wants to.”
“So why tell me this all now? Are you afraid I’m going to ruin your bargain with the Elite by telling them of your involvement?”
“No.” I try to sound convincing, but my chest squeezes with fear. “I already told you I wanted you to know the truth.”
His gaze sharpens, piercing through my lie. “Don’t lie to me, Moira. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Fine. Of course, I’m afraid. I don’t want to die, not for a crime I committed a long time ago.”
“And what about the one you committed recently?”
The memory of Mr. Harrison’s dead body flashes in my mind.
I shove the image away and lower my voice to a whisper. “That was different. I told you.”
He takes a step forward, and his melodic voice rumbles in the air between us. “Alright. If what you say is true, then it’s time we struck a deal. Help me with both Scott and Icarus, and then your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell a soul, especially not the Elite. You’ll have your bargain, and you’ll have your freedom.”
In the following silence, his unspoken words ring in my head. I’ll have everything I ever wanted. I just won’t have him. The realization hits me hard in the chest, ripping its way through skin and bone to stab straight through my heart. I’ve lost him. Forever. There’s no maybe anymore. I’ve truly lost him for good. Before the emotions can take possession over me, they sink to the pool where the water swallows them whole.
I blink, feeling empty yet unable to respond emotionally.
So, instead, I answer him with conviction. “Deal.”
He nods and turns to walk away. I sidle up to Josephine, and she acknowledges my presence with a nod. I shift my attention to the men standing before me. The constables argue, while the Chief attempts to gain control. His face reddens, ten shades darker than his moustache. I open my mouth, prepared to intervene, until I remember my interference wouldn’t be well-received.
One of the constables’ voice rises above the others. “How are we going to defeat them when they’ve taken our weapons away?”
Everyone falls silent.
The Chief’s deep voice rumbles in the quietude. “I have some weapons stored at my house. We can go there and collect them. Once we’re done, we can find Scott and his blockers.”
“Where do we even find them?”
Icarus steps forward and raises his voice. “I can answer that. One of the blockers locked in this room has already informed us Scott and his men reside in Mr. Harrison’s house. Apparently, that’s where Scott has been hiding all this time. They think they’ve won, so their guard will be down. They won’t see us coming, especially if we strike after the sun has set.”
The constables all nod, encouraged by his words. My mouth opens as amazement swirls around me until I remember they all believe Mr. Hayes, the Chief Elite Member, is one of them, not an empath. Of the people inside this room, only Keenan, Josephine, and I know Icarus’s real identity. The constables have no idea Icarus stole the information of Scott’s whereabouts from the blocker’s mind. For once, their ignorance falls to our advantage. Their faces shift into resolve as they head out of the station.
21
Darkness hugs the sides of each house. We keep away from the streets, out of the light’s reach. The wind whistles through the trees, muffling the sound of our steps. My gaze shifts from window to window as I watch for anyone to notice us. The curtains all remain closed. I have no doubt the blockers inside each house know of Scott’s rise, but I have yet to know if they’ve taken over their masters’ households. How far has Scott’s control spread?
We slink into Ward Twenty-eight and arrive on Balefield Drive. Mr. Harrison’s estate looms in the corner. The front lights illuminate the entrance and the two men who stand by the door. Two red dots near their faces flare for a brief moment. A cloud of smoke rises from their mouths as they exhale. I reach out to Icarus’s mind and implant an image of the man on the left. Without waiting for confirmation, I glide toward the blocker’s mind and push my way through his barrier. He staggers mentally, and the cigarette falls from his hand.
My persuasion echoes through his landscape. Stay quiet and don’t move.
His face shifts beneath the light, transforming into rigid lines. He swivels around and slams his fist on the door.
One word slips beneath my breath. “Shit.”
I rush out from the darkness. Someone seizes my arm to halt my progress, but I tear my limb free. Adrenaline courses through me as I run across the grass. In the blocker’s mind, I slam my fists on the ground and hope the pain reverberates through him. He grunts and falls to his knees. By his side, his partner stands motionless. For once, I’d like to see Icarus fail. I shove the thought aside and bury my persuasion deeper. The blocker’s body grows rigid as his face morphs into blankness.
The front door opens, and an unfamiliar presence crashes against my barrier. My feet slow as words burn their way across my landscape. The presence vanishes, and I gasp in confusion. Inside my mind, the blocker’s persuasion sputters to ash. I blink and look up at the blocker. He stands in the doorway, eerily still. I tense at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.
Icarus appears at my side and grabs my arm. “You fool. No
w they know we’re here. Come on!”
His harsh whisper rings accusingly in my mind. He pulls me toward the door. A loud bang splits through the air, and I instinctively duck my head. He drags me forward until we finally near the entrance. He grabs one of the blockers, securing his body behind the other man’s. With his revolver over the man’s shoulder, he forces his way into the house. I ease in behind him and hold my weapon at the ready. Quickened breath behind me sends a chill down my spine until I realize Keenan and the other constables stand at my back.
A bullet splits through the air and embeds into the wall beside me. The beating of my own heart drowns out the noises. My rage stirs as I draw on its strength. I breathe in the fumes of my wrath, and my jaw clenches as determination hardens my bones to steel. I might die here, but I refuse to perish without trying.
In my mind, bubbles rise from the water as a small chest floats to the surface. I stand at the edge of a staircase and beckon the box forward. A wave crashes against the trunk and pushes it toward me. The metal along the crease slides and shifts until the lid pops open with a faint click. I grab both the heart-shaped and the bird-like crystals and throw them against the stone steps. They shatter into a million pieces of glass, raining down on me. Red creeps into my vision, and I squint up at the top of the staircase. Her dark curls cascade over her bare shoulders and the front of her crimson dress. Her reddened lips spread into a wide grin, and her fiery gaze locks with mine.
One word resounds in my head. Revenge.
Another gunshot, close to my ear, snaps me out of my landscape. My eyes flick over my surroundings. Icarus leans against the wall opposite me, aiming his revolver at the entrance to one of the rooms. His drawn expression tells me he’s inside someone’s mind. The constables swarm around me, moving toward the other wall. A few slink up the stairs. With everyone preoccupied, I rush across the foyer’s entrance, missing a bullet as it shoots past me. I halt and smack my back against the wall.
“Moira!”
Ignoring the voice, I slink down the hallway. I can feel Scott, as if he were personally calling me forward. The darkness toys with my vision, creating enemies out of thin air. I pause at the entrance to the dining room. One. Two. Three. I peek around the doorway, holding my revolver high. A hand grips my wrist and twists my arm. A scream rips from my throat, and I scramble toward the person’s mind. His hand vanishes, and I blink up in surprise. Keenan appears beside me and tackles the man to the ground. I stagger back out into the hallway and peer at Mr. Harrison’s office door.
Rise of the Phoenix Page 26