PART 1
CRY OF THE PHOENIX
1.
EDMUND
Amber Hills, Mountain Wolf State
30 years ago
THE CHURCH BELLS CHIME MIDNIGHT, signaling the start of the Watchmen’s shift. No one else is allowed out after dark; no one else dares. Night is for the creatures that live beyond the wall. The ones lurking in the shadows of the forest. The ones that are watching me now.
A whisper of wind, as cold as winter’s breath, chills the back of my neck. I lift up the collar of my woolen jacket as I patrol the Boundary Wall that encases our compound. What the hell was I thinking of when I volunteered to do this? Well, it’s obvious who I was thinking of: Catherine. Maybe now that I’m a Watchman, she’ll stop seeing me as Best Friend Edmund and more as Potential Boyfriend Edmund.
I’m surprised the Guild allowed me to take the job—it usually goes to the hunters, not the eighteen-year-old grandson of the town minister—but I’m good with a gun . . . well, pellet gun. I can shoot a rat in the eye from thirty yards away. I weigh the rifle in my hands. It’s heavier but not too dissimilar.
Somewhere in the blackness beyond the wall a Lupine howls, the sound echoing across the night. I shiver. Their howls don’t bother me so much during the day, when the sun is high and there are hundreds of people milling about, but it’s altogether a different matter when you’re up on the wall, with nothing but darkness all around you. This was a really bad idea.
“All clear,” Mr. Kent’s gruff voice calls from farther down the wall. He’s one of the four Watchmen on duty tonight, including me. He’s far enough away that I can only make out his shadowy figure moving about in the night.
I scan the tree line, searching for the Lupine. From my vantage point on the thirty-foot-high wall, I can see right across the Forest of Shadows toward the volcano, Mount Alba, known locally as the Claw because of its talon-shaped peak. I squint at the trees. Their gnarled branches are like witches’ fingers, ready to snatch anyone who dares enter the forest.
“All clear,” I call back. “No Howlers here.”
We nickname them Howlers because of the noise they make when they call to each other. I shiver again. This is going to be a long night.
“Edmund?”
I whip around, gun raised, ready to shoot the frightened brown-haired girl peering at me from the top of the ladder. Catherine! A thrill of nervous excitement rushes through me.
“Fragging hell, Caterpillar. Don’t sneak up on a guy when he’s carrying a gun,” I say, lowering the weapon.
“‘Hello’ to you too,” she says, pouting. “And don’t call me that. You know I hate it.”
She climbs up the rest of the ladder and joins me on the wall. Tucked underneath her arm is a blanket. She’s wearing a long red cape over a simple cotton nightdress, which clings to the swells and dips of her newly developed curves. She’s no longer plain, skinny Caterpillar, who would happily wrestle with me in the dirt. When she turned seventeen this summer, she started wearing makeup and doing her hair, and now looks like an actual girl girl—something all the boys in town have noticed, including me.
She’s not the only one who’s changed; in the past few months I’ve shot up another four inches and fill out my clothes much better. I even have a smattering of dark stubble across my jawline, which helps cover some of the scars on my face, so I don’t look half bad now. Not great but not completely vomit-worthy either.
“What are you doing here?” I say. “Not that I’m complaining, but you know it’s after curfew, right?” I glance along the wall, making sure Mr. Kent can’t see us. He’s walking toward the east corner of the wall. We’re safe.
She rolls her eyes. “Since when do you care about curfews? Besides, what sort of friend would I be if I didn’t come and celebrate your first night as Watchman?”
“A terrible one,” I tease.
“The worst,” she agrees, laying the blanket on the stone walkway that runs along the top of the wall. Folded inside the gingham blanket are two red apples and a blue-veined cheese. “I thought you might be hungry.”
I catch a whiff of the stinking cheese, and my stomach knots.
Catherine frowns, noticing my reaction. “It’s all I could take from the store without my parents noticing.”
“It’s great, Cater—Catherine, thanks.” I join her on the scratchy blanket, sitting close enough to smell her perfume: orange blossom and honey. I lean against the stone turrets and rake a hand through my stubborn black hair. “Pass me an apple, then.”
Our fingertips touch as she hands me the apple. Desire aches through me.
“Do you remember that time we snuck up here as kids?” she asks.
When I was twelve and Catherine eleven, we crept up here after curfew to look at the lights coming from Gray Wolf, the city closest to our secluded compound. I remember seeing them glittering in the distance, brighter than any star. Catherine had cried, saying they made her sad. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how trapped we were here.
Neither of us has left the safe confines of our town, Amber Hills—a walled commune built a hundred years ago by the Guild, to allow us to live away from the sins of modern life. “The world may have fallen to sin, but we don’t have to,” Catherine’s father, Mr. Langdon, is keen to remind us whenever we step out of line. I don’t usually agree with him, but on this one point we see eye to eye. We all know what’s out there. Demons. I briefly grip the circle pendant around my neck—a symbol of our religion. Our faith keeps us protected from them. Well, that and this great big wall. Catherine’s wearing a similar pendant, although hers is gold, whereas mine is wood.
“I recall your dad sending out a search party for you,” I say. And the beating he gave me afterward, before Grandfather stepped in.
She frowns, clearly remembering that too. “He’s so overprotective; it drives me crazy sometimes. He thinks just because he’s the head of the Guild, it somehow gives him the right to control every aspect of my life too.”
“I think that’s just what dads do,” I say, half smiling, although I wouldn’t know. I never knew my father.
“I guess,” she says, nibbling on her apple. “So how are you finding your first night as Watchman?”
I shrug. “I don’t know why everyone keeps making such a fuss about it. It’s not that scary out here,” I lie.
Another Lupine barks, closer this time. Catherine lets out a squeak of fright and throws her arms around my neck. The scent of orange blossom fills my nostrils. I try not to smile.
“Nothing’s going to hurt you when I’m on watch,” I say. “I can take on a few Howlers. I’m a good shot.”
“It’s not just them I’m frightened of,” she says, pulling away from me. “Patrick says there’s”—she lowers her voice—“Darklings in the woods.”
“Oh, well, if your brother says it, then it must be true.”
Catherine scowls at me. “He hunts in those woods all the time with Harriet and Drew.”