Phoenix (17 page)

I go straight to the hospital wing in the administration building, using the moonlight
to search the laboratory for a microscope, a scalpel and some glass slides. I feel
at home in the laboratory. Science was the one subject at school I excelled at. I
even got on the Sentry’s science Fast Track program and spent some time as Dr. Craven’s
intern back in Black City. He showed me samples of the Wrath virus, so I know what
to look for.

I cut my finger and put a drop of blood on a microscope slide. I prepare the blood
smear the way Dr. Craven taught me, and place the slide under the lens of the microscope,
flipping on its battery-powered light. The C18-Virus’s particles are large enough
to see under an optical microscope, so I should be able to spot them if I’m infected.
I take a deep breath, then peer through the lens.

Please don’t let me find anything, please, please . . .

I twist the focus knob and the cells come into view.

All the typical things you’d expect to see are there: red blood cells, leukocytes,
platelets. But there’s something else there too. Amid the blood cells are the unmistakable
spiky-rimmed virions characteristic of the C18-Virus.

I stagger back, clamping my hand over my mouth to muffle the scream. My legs buckle,
and I drop to the cold floor. I draw my knees up to my chest and sit there for about
ten minutes as the truth slowly sinks in.

I have the Wrath.

I bury my head in my hands and let out a pained wail. I’m sick, and there’s a good
chance I’m going to die.
Oh God.
My stomach turns over, and I’m sick into a nearby trash can. There’s not much to
bring up—I’ve hardly eaten in the past few days—and I slump back against the desk,
shaking all over. How am I going to break the news to Ash? It’s going to kill him.

Think, Natalie.
You’re in a science lab. This is where the Sentry created the Wrath; perhaps there’s
a cure. I drag myself to my feet and start scouring the laboratory. I open up filing
cabinets, poring through documents, trying to find anything related to the C18-Virus.
The Sentry scientists must have left some files on their research, and maybe, if I’m
lucky, I’ll find some clues about a possible cure. I can’t believe they would develop
something as deadly as the Wrath virus without also developing a vaccination against
it, in case it ever spread to humans. They must’ve foreseen that as a possibility,
surely.

I have no idea how the virus is going to progress; clearly it’s not affecting me in
the same way as the Darklings, considering it took two months for my first symptoms
to surface. I think about all those kids who took the Golden Haze—the ones who didn’t
immediately die from it, that is—and wonder if they’ve contracted it too. There haven’t
been any reports of humans getting sick from the Wrath, but maybe they haven’t started
showing any symptoms yet.

I sit cross-legged on the floor and start reading through all the documents I’ve found.
I toss file after file onto the ground, my hope fading with each dead end. One of
the files catches my eye. It has a bright red butterfly on it, similar to the crates
at Dusty Hollow. I scan through the document. It appears to be a lab report about
something called Chrysalis. There’s no mention of the C18-Virus, but I’m curious about
what it could be—knowing the Sentry, it can’t be good. I rip off the top sheet and
tuck it into my pants pocket to read later.

The rest of the documents are notes from the other sadistic experiments they did on
the Darklings. Actually, I wouldn’t call them experiments; they were vile acts of
torture, performed by the very men and women who had taken a vow to help the sick.
Frustrated, I fling the documents across the laboratory, accidentally hitting Elijah
on the leg as he enters the room.

“I wondered where you’d gotten to,” he says. “I checked in on you and Ash, and you
weren’t there. I was worried.”

I wipe my eyes, hoping he can’t tell I’ve been crying. “Sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

I stand up. “Just doing a spot of bedtime reading.”

He picks up the documents. “You call this bedtime reading?”

I shrug, tucking a curl behind my ear.

“What were you really doing here?” he presses.

I look into his concerned golden eyes. It’s the same look he gave me after we found
Polly. We shared that experience, that horror. He was such a support to me then, and
I really need some comfort now. I could go to Ash, but I haven’t got the strength
to deal with the fallout of that devastating conversation. What I want now is someone
who can just listen to me, who will let me be selfish and cry and feel what I’m feeling
without worrying about how the news is hurting him.

“I’ve got the Wrath,” I blurt out. I show him the bite mark on my leg and explain
about how I was bitten. “I’ve been feeling sick ever since, but I didn’t put two and
two together until I saw my eyes.”

I start to cry again, and Elijah pulls me into his arms, holding me against him. He
smells like sandalwood and the earth. His hair is coarse against my cheek, his full
lips soft as they whisper assurances into my ear. I allow myself to fall deeper into
his embrace, needing the comfort. Elijah tenses slightly, but he doesn’t let me go.

“What are you going to tell Ash?” he asks.

“Nothing. At least not yet. He’d be devastated,” I whisper.

“You can’t keep this from him. He needs to know,” Elijah says.

I shake my head. “It’ll break his heart.”

“Natalie—”

“I just need some time,” I say. “You can’t say a word to him. Promise me.”

Elijah places a finger under my chin, tilting my face up to look into his. Pale moonlight
glows off his bronzed skin, accentuating the brown markings down the sides of his
chiseled face. His tousled hair has an almost purple tinge to it in this light, and
it falls in unkempt waves to his shoulders.

“I promise,” he says.

Movement to my right catches my attention. I pull away from Elijah and glance toward
the door, but there’s nothing there.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I thought I saw something,” I say. “It may be nothing, but we should probably go
and look.”

“Okay.” He takes my hand. “Will you be all right?”

“No,” I admit.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. We’ll find a cure.”

“I hope so,” I say. If we don’t, within a short time, I’ll be dead.

ASH

THE COLD AIR
hits me like a sucker punch as I sprint outside the administration building. I drag
in a deep lungful of it, trying to catch my breath, but my chest is too tight, my
throat constricted. There’s nothing I can do but fall to my knees as the world shatters
around me. The two duffel bags I’d been carrying, belonging to me and Natalie, slide
off my shoulder and hit the ground. I brought them with me in case we had to make
a quick getaway.

Natalie and Elijah . . .

I can’t get the image of the two of them out of my head—his hand cupping her face,
her arms wrapped around him.

What are you going to tell Ash?

Nothing. At least not yet. He’d be devastated.

You can’t keep this from him. He needs to know.

It’ll break his heart . . . You can’t say a word to him. Promise me.

I promise.

I don’t want it to be true, but the evidence is there.

Natalie’s cheating on me.

What other explanation is there? Is that why she pushed me away earlier? Couldn’t
she stand being touched by me when Elijah was in the next room? I just don’t understand.
How is it possible they’re together? They’ve only known each other a few days! But
that’s not true, is it? They met months ago, when he was being held captive in the
laboratory in her house. A lot can happen in that time, and wasn’t my attraction to
Natalie just as fast, just as powerful?
You’re Blood Mates—that’s different.
Is it? People fall for each other all the time; it’s not unique to Blood Mates. I
think about how the girls all look at him, and the way he was flirting with Natalie
at the pool, and realize it’s not so surprising she’s attracted to him.

I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts, I don’t immediately notice the sweet tang of blood.
My hair stirs, sensing it. I pick up the two bags and follow the scent down the side
of the administration building. One of the horses is lying on the dirt, its guts ripped
out. I suddenly realize why they needed sonic fields. It wasn’t to keep people in
the camp. It was to keep something
out.

Around the corner, a door swings open and there’s a sound of footsteps. Natalie and
Elijah are heading back to the house. They don’t realize they’re being hunted. We
all are. I run back to warn them. No matter how betrayed I feel right now, I can’t
let anything happen to Natalie.

“Ash, I thought you were asleep,” Natalie says, casting a worried look at Elijah.

My blood boils as I glare at Elijah. I would love nothing more than to tear his throat
out. “We need to get back inside, right—”

A low growl comes from behind me, and I slowly turn. A shadow stalks out of the gloom,
taking form in the moonlight. A jackal. Although it’s unlike any wild dog I’ve ever
seen before. It’s twice the normal size, with dripping fangs, rotting flesh and terrifying
yellow eyes. The jackal snarls, taking a step toward us.

“Natalie, run,” I say calmly. “Now.”

“I can’t,” she whispers.

I risk a look over my shoulder. Another five dogs have us surrounded.

“Head back into the building,” I say, not taking my eyes off the dogs.

We cautiously edge toward the administration building. The dogs take another step
toward us. We reach the door. Elijah fumbles for the handle in the dark.

“Hurry up,” I say under my breath.

“I’m trying,” he says.

The pack leader studies me with hungry eyes.

They move closer.

“Now would be good, Elijah,” I say.

The pack leader howls, and the jackals bound toward us.

“Elijah!” Natalie exclaims.

The handle clicks, and we tumble through the open door. I kick it shut just as the
dogs reach us. They slam into the door, splintering the wood. I scramble to my feet
and twist the lock. The animals howl and snarl on the other side, their claws scratching
at the wood, trying to get in.

“Did you see their eyes?” Elijah says.

“They’re infected—they’ve turned into some kind of Wrath Hounds,” I confirm. “They
must’ve eaten contaminated Darkling meat.”

It’s the only explanation I can think of, although I didn’t realize the virus could
jump species. But the how or the why is the least of my concerns right now. There’s
a loud thud as one of the Wrath Hounds leaps at the door.

“Did they bite you? Are you hurt?” Natalie stretches a hand out toward me, but I flinch
away as if her touch were fire. How can she act like she cares about me, after what
I saw?

She furrows her brow. “Ash?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “We need to get to the roof before they find out how to get in.”

“I’m going to turn on the electricity. I’ll meet you upstairs,” Elijah says, darting
off before we can stop him.

Natalie and I run in the opposite direction, in search of the stairwell. We find it
just as there’s the sound of shattering glass. The Wrath Hounds have found another
way in. Natalie tugs on my arm, stopping me.

“We can’t leave Elijah,” she says.

“Forget him,” I snap, dragging her farther up the stairs.

“Ash, what’s gotten into you?”

She looks up at me with beautiful blue eyes, which are so full of concern for
him.
Pain rips at my heart.

“Will that make you happy?” I ask quietly.

She looks at me, bewildered. “Yes. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Her words tear through me, but as upset as I am, I’ll do anything for her—even save
the boy she’s cheating on me with.

I release her hand and thrust our duffel bags into her hands.

“Fine, I’ll go get him,” I say. “You head to the roof.”

I don’t wait for her to answer, just race down the stairs in search of Elijah. I run
past the office with the broken window. One of the dogs must’ve scratched itself on
the glass, because there are drops of foul-smelling blood on the floor. The scent
leads me all the way to the generator room.

The place is boiling hot and pitch-black, and I’m grateful for my night vision. I
catch glimpses of five shadowy creatures lurking down the walkways, prowling toward
Elijah, who is standing at the end of the room, searching for the levers to turn the
power back on.

For a moment, I consider leaving Elijah with the jackals, but quickly cast that thought
aside and look around for a weapon. Normally I’d use my fangs, but I can’t risk infecting
myself. I yank some steel piping off the wall and quietly stalk the jackals as they
in turn hunt Elijah.

He finds one of the levers and pulls it, turning the generator fan back on. The sound
startles the Wrath Hounds, and they howl, the noise echoing around the room, making
it hard to pinpoint the source. Elijah looks about him, fear etched on his face. Bastets
have great hearing, but their eyesight isn’t as good as a Darkling’s.

A Wrath Hound scurries across the walkway behind him, ready to pounce.

“Behind you!” I call out in the dark.

He turns just as the dog leaps toward him. Elijah takes it down in one swift movement,
snapping its neck.

“Three o’clock!” I shout as another dog springs for him.

The animal lands on him and they fall to the floor. Elijah grips the dog’s throat,
holding its gnashing teeth at bay as I dash toward him. I swing the steel pipe, cracking
the animal’s skull. It rolls off Elijah, and I help him to his feet.

“There’s three more,” I say to him, scanning the room. “I’ll hold them off—you turn
on the electricity.”

Elijah races back to the generator while two of the Wrath Hounds bound toward us,
their fangs dripping. I strike one of them, the pipe easily tearing through its gangrenous
flesh. Warm blood sprays out of its wound. The second jackal turns on its fallen comrade
and starts tearing at its flesh, overtaken by a feverish bloodlust.

Elijah finds the second lever, and all the lights blink on.

“Ash!” he calls as the last Wrath Hound lunges for me.

There’s no time to block the attack, and I’m knocked off my feet. The pipe rolls under
the generator. The Wrath Hound is inches from my face. I struggle to hold the creature
back as it snaps at me with its deadly fangs, my fingers slipping through its rotting
flesh.

“Help me!” I yell.

My arm muscles start to shake from the strain. I can’t keep this up much longer.

“Elijah!” I say, panicked.

There’s a
clunk
as another lever is pulled, and the Wrath Hound immediately rolls off me, whimpering
as it writhes around the floor in agony. I can’t hear it, but the sonic shield must
be on again. A shadow falls over me.
Elijah.

“You alive?” he asks.

I get to my feet.

“That was close,” he says, grinning. “I thought we were—”

I punch Elijah in the face.

He lets out a pained yell as blood squirts out of his nose. The bones in my hand rattle,
and I know my knuckles are going to be bruised for the next few days, but it was worth
it.

“What did you do that for?” he says through his bloodied hands.

“You know what that was for,” I snarl, shoving him against the generator. “Leave her
alone. She’s
mine.
”

“What?” he says.

I don’t answer. I’m not interested in hearing his excuses. I pick up the pipe and
kill the last two Wrath Hounds, pretending their heads are Elijah’s.

“I think they’re dead,” he says, dabbing his nose with his sleeve.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. We study our handiwork.

“Weren’t there six dogs outside?” Elijah asks.

He’s right; there are only five hounds here, which can mean only one thing.

“Natalie!” we say in unison.

We run out of the generator room, through the corridors and up the stairs. My heart
is racing.
Please let her be okay, please, please.
We burst onto the roof. It’s unnaturally dark out here, as something blocks out the
moonlight. At first I don’t see Natalie, but then I make out a shape slumped on the
flat roof. Blood stings my nostrils.

The night becomes still. I can’t move.

Elijah rushes over to the figure.

“It’s the dog! Just the dog!” he says.

I let out a sigh of relief.

“Natalie?” I call.

“Sshh,” she whispers, walking out from behind a chimney stack. She points upward.

We all turn our heads up to the sky. At first I don’t know what she’s referring to,
then I realize what’s blocking out the moonlight. My blood turns to ice.

The Destroyer Ship.