The Phoenix Thief

TWENTY NINE

HE'D LAIN IN that alley in the dark, blood on the stone beneath him and ashes in the air above. Shouting voices had echoed off the tall buildings, rapid footsteps striking the cobbles like gunfire, and flames had snarled at the sky, reaching up to smother the stars with smoke. The firelight had shown up everything in black shadows and shapes of red. Some of the shapes had run past him. He'd cried out, but they hadn't heard. All he could do was tear his eyes away from the blood and darkness and look up at the sky.

Between the stars and smoke, white-winged shapes had swept across his vision. He had called out to them, knowing a narrow-faced man and a woman with freckles and grey eyes soared somewhere among them – and he'd wanted them. That was all he'd known. He hadn't understood the blood pooling around him, or the pain chewing him with red-hot teeth. He hadn't understood why he was alone.

"Help me!" he'd screamed, voice shaking with sobs.

The black and red figures had heard him, and their shadows reached out towards him, racing ahead of them as they drew nearer. But then from overhead a voice had called out, strong, hearty – familiar, somehow – and suddenly white wings had surrounded him, blocking the red light of the fire and the dark figures. Gentle hands had taken his own.

"Hush there, hush. It's all right, now. I'll get you out of here."

Warmth had surrounded him as the man lifted him up. The next moment they were hurtling skyward. The buildings shrank below, the red and black figures all but vanishing into tiny dark spots. Then he and the man burst upwards through the smoke and there was nothing but stars, so many the sky was almost white. The last thing he remembered was the vibrations of the man's voice rumbling in his chest, right against his own cheek.

"Don't look back, little boy. Look up. See the stars? Aren't they pretty? Shining so bright – like your mama's earrings, aren't they? You'll be safe, now, little boy, for I'm getting you out of here, see? I promised I'd take care of you. Just hush now, and look up. That's it, look up at those stars, and don't you look back at all."

~~~

"You should sleep, darlin'," Pierstov said quietly.

Catrío moaned. "I can't."

"It's been four days, and you've hardly shut your eyes at all."

"Every time I do, I dream about him still lying there, and everything is slowed down, and I can't reach him, and he's bleeding out."

Pierstov sighed. Then he spoke again, his voice scratchy and low. "You did what you could, Catrío. And that's a great deal more than either your Ma or I could have done. You just dug in your heels and got right to work, no balking at all. You've got your Ma's cool head, you have."

Catrío was silent a moment. "But... but what about him?" A squeak escaped her, followed by an all-out sob.

Catrío was crying.

No. Not that. Anything but that. She mustn't hurt.

He opened his eyes.

Immediately, pain sank deep claws into him, and he gasped. He could see nothing but brightness, and aside from that and the pain, he could grasp nothing of where he was. His eyes flew shut again, as if the darkness could somehow hide him from the agony.

"Kilter?" Catrío's voice broke through the buzzing in his ears. "Kilter!"

Her quiet sobs broke into heaving, choking ones. Kilter felt something grip his hand, but couldn't say anything.