Page 49 of Dance of the Phoenix (Cloak of the Vampire #3)
Eliza
Four months ago
I was completely stuck.
In the depths of Oregon’s Washington County, I was faced with a dilemma. The cleft to my right seemed to lead up an uncommonly traversed mount, while to my right, there was an entrance to what seemed like a long-abandoned mine.
One of two would lead me to my destination; that much I knew. But the other might leave me lost between realms for who knew how long.
This was the problem with portals. Finding them was tricky enough as it was, but knowing to which dimension they would lead was almost impossible.
Oregon was one of the few places on Earth filled with an abundance of portals leading to many different realms. Normally, encountering two portals in the same place was a rarity, but in recent years, in such places as Oregon, it was starting to become the norm.
Which made my job a lot harder.
With a grimace, I covered my good right eye with my hand and took the patch off my left. Bracing myself, I put two fingers over the eyelids and forced my eye open.
Pain ricocheted through every cell of my body.
Biting my lip hard enough to taste blood, I heaved my breaths through the nose and attempted to focus on the blurry vision before me.
It was black and white, like an old film, with only two spots of color—orange where the cleft was and blue over the abandoned mine.
Before the pain could become unbearable, I let go, and my eyes closed shut. Slowly, the pain subsided, leaving the left side of my face feeling numb.
Letting out a sigh and wiping my forehead with the sleeve of my jacket, I fixed the patch over my left eye and poured some water from my canteen over my hand, placing it on my bleeding lip.
Usually, I wouldn’t use my left eye if I could help it.
The pain was one thing, but the following aftereffects were just not worth it.
If I used it for too long, the entire left side of my body would become temporarily paralyzed for different amounts of time.
That’s why I relied on my other power more.
But when faced with two routes, one of which could risk my life, I had no choice.
Putting the canteen back in my pouch, I headed to the abandoned mine, knowing for sure now that this was the right direction.
Passing through portals was quite the experience. The moment I “entered” the mine, the portal activated, sucking me in like a vacuum cleaner, blurring my sight and making me feel as though my entire body was shrinking, before it spit me out in a different realm altogether.
Seeing the clear blue sky and the bright-green grass leading toward a ravine, in which sat an impossibly enormous palace made of shining crystals and other minerals, I knew I had arrived at the right place. Despite the damage it caused, my left eye never disappointed.
I trod the plane of grass, my sneakers crushing the grass far too loudly for my liking. Taking them off, I hung them by the laces on the strap of my pouch and breathed far more easily now that the noise was gone.
Quickening my pace, I jogged through the grass until I reached the large courtyard, filled with all kinds of greenery, from palm trees to strawberry bushes, a few thin streams of water slithering around colorful flowers and plants. It was like a well-cared-for jungle.
Not planning on traversing the yard, though, I only stuck to the sideline, hopping over the water as to not make even the smallest splashing sound. When I finally saw a pretty crystal wall ahead, I slowed down and crouched.
As if on cue, the flapping of wings echoed right above me.
Covering my mouth, I jumped into the nearest bush, ignoring the immediate itchiness that followed. Through the thicket, I saw two tall, winged figures landing not far from where I was hiding.
They spoke in a language I didn’t understand, using hand gestures and annoyed facial expressions. They were obviously scouts, going by the tags pinned to the pockets of their cargo pants, but seeing how expressive they were, they must’ve been quite young.
The older the Malachi, the better they were at masking their thoughts. And those who mastered the art of stifling their emotions completely were the Seraphim, the most highly ranked Malachi.
These two were most likely very young Malachi, since Cherubs, the youngest, couldn’t enlist. And with scout being the starting position of every Malachi, it made it easier to identify their place in the Malachi’s hierarchy.
When the two walked away toward the jungle yard, I took a deep breath and let myself out of the bush.
Irritated by the itchiness, I tore the leaves and twigs off me before I quietly made my way in the opposite direction, looking for an entrance into the large palace, or any other way to get to its top floor.
I highly doubted I would find a Seraph milling around the lower floors. They might’ve gotten rid of their emotions, but they were still proud.
When I reached the end of the wall, I finally saw an archway. That was the good news. The bad news was that a few Cherubs were hanging around the entrance, and while they were practically babies with wings, I also knew their intelligence was already at the level of a young adult human.
Another bit of bad news: Aside from grass, there were no plants or trees anywhere around here. Meaning no place to hide—or climb—to get to the upper floors.
The Cherubs’ foreign chatter tingled my ears as I debated whether I should retrace my steps and climb one of the trees I saw on the way instead. It didn’t seem likely the Cherubs would go anywhere, seeing as how they practically manned the archway.
Gritting my teeth anxiously, I pulled away and walked back in the same direction I’d come from. When I reached the first tree in my way—thankfully, not a palm tree but a solid oak—I didn’t hesitate and immediately climbed the trunk.
By the time I reached the uppermost branch, I was huffing and puffing, sweat sticking to every part of my still-itchy skin. Parched, I took out the canteen and sipped water before putting it back in the pouch and focusing back on the palace wall.
With how tall the palace walls were, I’d only managed to scrape the second floor. And luckily, there was a small balcony not too far ahead. It wasn’t quite within jumping distance, but I could definitely reach it with a good throw.
Crawling toward the end of the branch, I pushed away the leaves and scanned the area. I could hear the distant wing flaps, meaning there were still some scouts patrolling above, but as for the ground, it looked like the coast was clear.
Pulling out a grappling hook, I took a deep breath, stared at the balcony, and threw.
It missed.
I pulled it back using the attached rope and aimed once more, throwing it with all my might.
And missed again.
Come on, Eliza, I thought, annoyed. You managed far trickier throws in the past. You’ve got this.
Gritting my teeth, I threw one more time, and the third time was definitely the charm, because the grappling hook clung to the balustrade beautifully.
Wiping the new wave of sweat off my forehead, I tied the end of the rope to the branch and tightened the knot as much as possible so it would create a sturdy tightrope.
Then I mounted the tightrope.
It had been many years since I learned the art of tightrope walking. Normally it would involve holding a balancing rod and taking the time to center one’s balance. But since I was in a hurry, I chose the risky method.
With a deep, calming breath, I propelled myself forward and ran.
Or rather, hopped.
I used long-distance jumps, restoring my balance when I landed on the rope by digging my toes into it before immediately jumping right afterward.
It took four jumps to get to the balcony.
Once I climbed over the balustrade, I could finally breathe. Cutting the rope and hanging the grappling hook over the iron hook of my belt, I knew I should really hurry up now. It wouldn’t take long for the scouts—or someone else—to find the rope.
Thankfully, the Malachi did not believe in windows, because all I needed to do to enter the second floor was step through the archway of the balcony.
I took a very short moment to take in my surroundings: a large open space with translucent walls and glass-made musical instruments. No sign of stairs, or even an elevator.
The realization hit me too late, making me feel so dumb, it was almost as painful as forcing my left eye open. The Malachi didn’t need a stairway or an elevator. They could simply fly to the upper levels.
Great. Now what?
Heartbeat speeding now as anxiety spread through me at the sudden dead end I was facing, I quietly lurked around the floor, hiding behind a large grand piano, despite the floor being completely empty.
There had to be a way up without using a pair of wings.
Staircases were an inseparable part of architecture. What building wouldn’t have them?
A building of a species that didn’t need them, obviously.
Still, I couldn’t lose hope that I might be wrong. So I hovered around the entire floor, preparing to hide myself the moment I encountered any Malachi, but it seemed that no one was here. Even in the room I entered, which seemed to be residential, no one was around.
Was this floor deserted?
Either way, when I reached the other end of the floor, my wish was granted. A spiral staircase disappearing into the tall ceiling greeted me in an empty hall. Relief washed over me, and I ascended the stairs quietly and quickly, my feet extra soft against the crystal steps.
When I reached the third floor, another spiral staircase awaited, in a similar empty hall made of crystals. Perhaps this was one tall stairway to the upper floor? If so, I would be very lucky.
As long as the halls these staircases were built in stayed empty, that was, since I had no place to hide here.
But the more floors I climbed, the more sure I became that no Malachi used these halls, or staircases, leaving them completely abandoned. Which, of course, made me wonder why they built them, then.
I reached the final floor accessed by the spiral staircase.
Seeing no more stairways, I walked toward the exit arch of the hall when I froze in place.
Because through the archway I could see a row of Malachi wings, as the Malachi themselves sat with their backs to the archway, looking ahead at something.
Then I heard a distant male voice speaking in plain English.
“We will now begin the trial of Felleya, daughter of Murdoch.”
The Malachi’s Court of Justice was now in order.