Wings - Page 29/43

“Home sweet home,” Elijah says, giving me a tired smile. He seems exhausted but happy. Then again, why shouldn’t he be? He’s got his mother back.

The hatch door lets out a hydraulic hiss as it opens. Waiting for us on the other side is my mother, father, Garrick and Sasha. They all look furious. Uh-oh.

“What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?” my mother shouts.

I glance sheepishly at my father, who looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him before, his scarred face twisted into a fierce scowl.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Natalie,” he says through clenched teeth.

Ash grabs his blue duffel bag from under the bench, which Destiny had been storing for him while we were in the Tenth, and takes my hand. My mother’s icy blue eyes narrow with disapproval, but I ignore her. I don’t care what my parents think of Ash, it’s not going to change my feelings for him.

Garrick and Sasha help Destiny off the Transporter, while the others assist Martha, Lucinda and Yolanda. They’re able to walk, but they’re all shaky on their feet. Mother gives Martha an awkward hug, which surprises the old Darkling woman as much as it does me.

We head to the elevator, my mother muttering angry words at me the whole way. I chew on the inside of my cheek, accepting the barrage of abuse. She has every right to be mad at me. Occasionally I flick a look at my father, but he refuses to meet my eye.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” I say, unable to stand his silence any longer. “But I’m not sorry for what I did. Ash needed my help, and I couldn’t wait around for you to ask the Commander if we could send a rescue mission, only for him to say no anyway.”

Father’s scarred lips tighten, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows I’m right.

The elevator doors slide open and we enter the compound. Ash’s eyes widen as he takes it all in: the zooming subway trains, the bustling sidewalks, the metal buildings—it’s a lot to digest. He whistles through his teeth.

“You weren’t exaggerating,” he murmurs.

We head straight for the hospital, where Dr. Craven is waiting for us to tend to our wounds. Sigur is lying in one of the hospital beds, still recovering from his own ordeal. He struggles into an upright position when he sees us. A muscle in Ash’s jaw tightens as he looks at his Blood Father. Sigur’s long ice-white hair has been pulled back, revealing the full extent of the wounds on his muscular torso. There are lacerations and UV burns on his alabaster skin, plus a patchwork of bruises where the guards have kicked him. On his back are two pink nubbins where his wings used to be, before Sebastian cut them off.

“Son,” Sigur says, opening his pale arms wide.

Ash places his bag and Theora’s heart on the sideboard, then sinks down on Sigur’s bed and allows himself to be folded into his Blood Father’s embrace.

“I’m sorry I left you,” Ash whispers, his voice pained. “I should never have let them hurt you. I should have saved you, I’m sorry, oh God, oh God, I’m so sorry . . .”

Sigur catches my eye.

“Harold’s dead,” I say quietly.

Grief flickers across Sigur’s features and he tightens his hold on Ash, realizing the apology isn’t aimed just at him. Lucinda sits beside them and gently strokes Ash’s hair.

Across the room, Elijah, Acelot and Yolanda are in their own huddle, their arms around one another as they cry for their lost family. If this war ever ends, I want to go back to Gray Wolf and retrieve Marcel’s body, so he can be buried with the rest of his family in Viridis, where he belongs, rather than underneath a pile of stones in some abandoned warehouse, with nothing but a few trinkets and dandelion seeds to mark his grave.

I turn to my own father and wrap my arms around him. He doesn’t say anything, just holds me close. My mother lightly places her hand on my back. I’m so lucky to have them. I briefly gaze up, noticing Martha lingering nearby. Father stretches a hand out to her. She takes it, and joins the group hug. My family is finally back together again . . . almost. My insides ache at the thought of Polly, missing her desperately. I think about the knife back in my bedroom—the one I stole from the Ultraviolet Greenhouse—with her name etched into the handle. I haven’t forgotten about my promise to my sister. I’m going to kill Purian Rose.

I eventually pull away from them, dabbing my eyes. Garrick and Sasha have brought Destiny in. She’s being tended to by Dr. Craven and a few of the nurses farther down the ward. They’ve taken off her jacket so that she’s wearing just her bloodstained vest, which shows off her toned arms and enviable figure. Dr. Craven rubs some numbing gel on her skin, then sews up the wound.

I glance up at my father. “What are you going to do to Destiny?”

“We’ll discuss her punishment later,” Father replies.

“Please don’t be too harsh with her,” I say. “She was just being a good friend. And she’s a great pilot; you’ll need her if you’re planning an attack on Cen—” I cut myself off, realizing I’ve put my foot in it. I’m not supposed to know about the planned assault on the capital city. Father gives me a hard look and I grimace. “Don’t be mad at Destiny. I accidentally walked in on her when she was looking at the attack plans in command central.”

Father’s brow creases. “When was this?”

“A few days ago,” I say. “Why?”

“No reason,” he says, glancing at Destiny.

Dr. Craven finishes suturing her wound and comes over to us.

“Hello, pumpkin,” he says, giving me a warm smile, although his eyes scan the faces of everyone in the room. I wonder if he’s searching to see if Sebastian, his son, is with us.

“Sebastian’s alive. He murdered Acelot’s brother and stole their Miniport; he’s probably in Centrum by now.” That’s the most likely place Seb would’ve gone.

The doctor takes off his glasses and rubs his tired eyes. “I just don’t understand that boy anymore,” he says quietly. “My son was never perfect, but he was a good boy until he got caught up in that Purity nonsense. It breaks my heart he’s turned out this way. I’m just glad I never told him about this place.”

That makes two of us.

“I have something for you.” I pass Dr. Craven the vial of Wings, briefly explaining how I got it. “I’m pretty certain the milky stuff is Haze, given its gooey consistency, but I’d like to know for certain what it’s been mixed with. It’s possible it’s Night Whisper.”

“I’ll run some tests,” he says, taking it to his laboratory at the end of the ward.

Ash gets up from Sigur’s bed and collects his duffel bag and Theora’s heart. He looks exhausted, his cheeks gaunt, his dark eyes shimmering behind his long black bangs.

“There’s a spare bunker three doors down from ours,” Father says. “Ash can stay there.”

“I’m not sure how comfortable I am with that,” Mother replies.

I kiss her cool cheek. “I love you, Mom. But this isn’t up for debate.”

Mother frowns. “But—”

“Siobhan, let them go,” Father says gently, silencing my mother. I smile at him and he hugs me. “When did you get all grown up, huh? I’m not sure I like it,” he whispers in my ear, then releases me. He stretches out a hand to Ash. “You treat my girl right. She’s the most precious thing in the world to me.”

“That’s how I feel about her too, sir,” Ash replies, shaking his hand.

Father nods curtly and lets go of Ash’s hand. We head to our bunker, stopping off at my old room along the way to collect my belongings, including the yellow-handled knife. Ash notices the writing on the handle.

“‘Polly?’” he says. “As in your sister?”

I tuck the blade into my pocket.

“What are you planning to do with it?” he says, eyes narrowing.

“You know what I’m going to do,” I say. “The day I found Polly’s body, I told you that I was going to kill Purian Rose. Nothing’s changed.”

A muscle twitches in Ash’s jaw but he doesn’t push the matter, not wanting to start an argument. I take his hand and lead him to our new bunk.

Our room is smaller than the one I shared with my parents, with a double bed, two nightstands, a small desk and a cupboard built into the white, glossy wall. Ash places the glass jar on the desk and quietly shuts the door. We’re alone at last.

He crosses the room in two strides and pulls me into his arms, his lips crushing against mine. The kiss is both urgent and tender; he’s wanting to savor the moment but barely able to hold himself back. Yearning aches through me, and I press my body against his, my fingers tangling through his hair. I suddenly taste salt on my lips and immediately break the kiss.

“Ash?”

He fixes his eyes on a point on the floor, his jaw clenched tight, as tears snake down his cheeks. I take his hand and we lie down on the bed, both fully clothed. I softly kiss him, opening a channel between us, known as Soul Sharing—something that only Blood Mates are able to do with each other—allowing his emotions to flow into me. My heart swallows his grief, his guilt, his pain, trying to take away some of his suffering. Tears spill down my face. His sorrow is almost too much to bear, but I hold on to him until eventually he severs the connection. He gently wipes the tears off my face with his thumbs.

“I love you, blondie,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” I say, wrapping my arms around him.

He rests his head on my chest, and we stay like this for the rest of the night.

24.

ASH

IT TAKES ME A LONG TIME to fall asleep, despite how exhausted I am. When I do drift off, my dreams are haunted with nightmarish visions of starved bodies chained to hospital beds, their jaws clamped open. I pull back one of the blankets to reveal my dad lying on the soiled mattress. His body is gray and sunken, his bones jutting out of his ulcerated skin. He grips my arm, and flames erupt from his fingers and lick up my sleeve until I’m engulfed in fire, just like the day I became Phoenix—

I bolt up in bed. My throat is raw from screaming.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Natalie says, drawing me into her arms. I cling to her, trying to catch my breath as a wave of grief crashes over me when I remember my dad’s dead. I focus on breathing, in out, in out, in out, until eventually I calm down.

After a few minutes, I reluctantly pull away from Natalie and check the clock on the nightstand. It’s already eleven in the morning. We get out of bed and shower and change. I empty the contents of my duffel bag onto the bed and start putting a few things away. A folded piece of paper flutters to the floor. Natalie picks it up.

“What’s this?” she says.

“Some lab report you got from the Barren Lands about Project Chrysalis,” I say.

She unfolds the document and scans it. Her eyes widen with surprise. She twists the paper around to show me the gray butterfly emblem printed at the top of the page. “Look familiar? This is about Wings. I can’t believe we’ve had the information all this time! We should give this to Dr. Craven; it might be important.”

We head into the main compound. The Sentry stronghold is even bigger than I first realized. Subway trains filled with soldiers swoosh by us at regular intervals while other Sentry rebels march past us, talking in hushed, excited tones about the “upcoming assault.”

We pass command central—a glass-walled room filled with high-tech digital screens and a massive com-desk. Standing around the desk are Natalie’s parents, a younger man with sandy-blond hair and green eyes—his name tag reads Adam Slater—Roach, Acelot and the Lupines Garrick and Sasha. Next to them are Destiny and Sigur. I’m surprised to see them out of their hospital beds. Sigur’s slightly hunched over as he stands, but otherwise alert and focused as he studies the holo-map projected above the com-desk’s screen. It looks like they’re having an important meeting and I wasn’t invited! I angrily push open the door and Natalie follows.

“We’ll take out targets here, here and here,” General Buchanan says. “That will block off access to the city.”

“What’s going on?” I say.

They all look up.

“Good to have you back, Phoenix,” Roach says. Her blue dreadlocks have been tied back, showing off her freckled face. She looks a lot like Beetle.

I turn to Sigur. “Why wasn’t I invited to this meeting?”

“I thought you should rest, son,” he says.

“Is this the attack plan?” Natalie says, studying the map.

General Buchanan quickly runs through their plan of assault on Centrum for us. It’ll be in three phases. We’ll attack Port Cassandra first. It’s on the outskirts of the city, where the main fleet of Destroyer Ships are docked. They’ll then blast all the bridges and connecting roads, isolating the walled city from the outside world, and strike strategic targets, including the Fracture—a shard-shaped skyscraper—where Sentry headquarters are located in Centrum. Finally, the ground troops will take over the city.

“When is this taking place?” I ask.

“Tomorrow, at oh-seven-hundred hours,” General Buchanan replies.

I gaze at the attack plans. Tomorrow the war could be over. I should be delighted, but I’m not. Something doesn’t feel right. Destiny suddenly winces with pain.