Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (100 page)

1/4/13 4:14 PM

Emblaze

Or
figured
it
out?

My hands went to my bracelets, rotating them around my wrists.

“And I can see that it has changed you.”

He
knows.

He sat up straighter. I braced myself.

“When we’re young, lots of things happen that we think are

the be-all and end-all, but really, they’re not. I can see you’re losing focus on school and I realize it’s wrapping up now, but you still have work left to do, and I haven’t heard you talk about university options or seen any applications lying about. Violet, if there is something going on that I need to know about, it’s time to tell me,” Dad said, sounding sterner than I’d ever heard him.

He
doesn’t know.

I took a moment, recovering from the roller- coaster conversa-

tion, followed by a speedy shutdown.

“I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Dad watched me as I sat there with a smile frozen on my face.

He seemed a little disappointed. I suppose he had just said quite a bit and I hadn’t offered much in return, but he’d obviously prepared for the conversation and I…Hell, I’d had no idea he was going to say anything beyond his usual, “How was your day?”

“Okay. I’ll take your word for it.” He stood up. “Let’s grab that ice cream on the way home.”

And right there was the first parental guilt- trip my father had ever successfully pulled on me.

I pulled my shawl close, feeling lonely and my arm still aching.

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Jessica shirvington

I should have taken some aspirin before I’d left home. We weaved our way between the tables of the busy restaurant, the owner stopping us at the front to ask Dad— “John”— how everything was.

When I stopped walking, I felt a twinge in my chest and then a

sharp throb at the base of my ribs. I jerked straight and concentrated on breathing deeply. I knew instantly. It wasn’t my pain I was feeling.

It’s not a bad one,
I told myself.
Ribs, I think.

I smiled when, from behind the desk, the restaurant owner gave

me a cheesy grin— the same one he used to give me when I was nine.

Lincoln.

It was fading. But it had also been stronger than any of the

others I’d felt. The feelings were getting more acute each time, and though they passed quickly, I hated the aftermath even more.

Everything in my being wanted to run to him. Every breath felt

like an impossible delay as instinct and something more took over, trying to control me. I took hold of one of the chairs and cemented my feet to the floor while I waited for Dad to finish being John so I could walk with him to the ice cream shop before heading home.

When we reached the front doors to our building, I spotted

Spence resting against the wall.

“Dad, I’ll meet you up there. I just want to say hi to a friend of mine,” I said, motioning in Spence’s direction.

Dad nodded to Spence— who he thought was just a school friend—

briefly, but his smile was edged with something, sadness maybe.

“Don’t be long,” he said, walking inside.

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There had been a lot of times I’d tried to talk to him and had

gotten nowhere, so I knew exactly how he felt and it made me want to go after him. But I had to speak to Spence first.

I joined him against the wall after dropping my barely touched

ice cream in the trash.

“I would’ve eaten that,” Spence said. I ignored him.

“How bad?”

“You know, he’ll find out I’ve been reporting to you on this

stuff,” he grumbled.

Spence wasn’t a snitch. But even if he did live at Lincoln’s now, Spence was my friend first and that gave me dibs.

“Spence,” I warned.

“One rib, maybe two. He’s fine. They’ll probably heal on their

own in a day or two.”

“Where was he?” I asked, but part of me already knew. Phoenix

had been sending exiles every few nights, but I’d suspected he

was actually sending them more often than that— I just wasn’t

seeing them. Plus, there was a reason why I’d felt his injuries so acutely tonight.

“Ah…come on, Eden, don’t push it,” Spence said, wriggling

against the wall.

I just stared at him.

“I don’t know,” he blurted out. “Around, in the city.”

“He was patrolling near the restaurant, wasn’t he? I felt it

more— I know he was nearby.”

Spence didn’t answer, which I took as a yes.

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“How many were there?” I asked, now regretting hitting Phoenix

even more. No doubt he would have seen this as fair recompense.

“Three.”

My eyes widened. “Who was with him?”

Spence didn’t answer.

“Jesus! He was on his own?” I exclaimed, increasingly stressed

that he might be in worse shape than Spence was letting on. Just today I’d had a glimpse into how impossible a confrontation with three exiles against one Grigori was. This was my fault. Phoenix had probably known Lincoln was nearby.

“Yeah. The man’s a legend. Returned two of ’em too,” Spence

said, bobbing his head up and down.

Clearly Lincoln had found himself a fan.

“So,” I said, trying to gather my thoughts, “where is he now?”

Spence shrugged. “Resting, I expect. I only know ’cause he

called me after he couldn’t get through to Griffin and asked me to let him know one of them got away. You want me to check the area before I go?”

“No,” I said, then realized why he’d been so quick to come to

me. “That’s why you’re here! Lincoln sent you to patrol, in case that other one came back. Oh my God!” I was seething. Did Lincoln

have such little faith in me to protect myself ? I definitely didn’t need Spence guarding my front door.

He slid off the wall. “Hey, you
know
I know you can kick butt.

I have the bruises to prove it. I don’t reckon there’ll be any more action tonight anyway, but you know— the guy can be persuasive.” 52

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I didn’t really care what Spence did. I didn’t believe that Lincoln would stay home and rest. There was still plenty of witching left in the night and, broken ribs or not, Lincoln was just about determined enough to come back out looking for the one that got away.

Fine by me. I’d be waiting.

————

Dad was sitting up at the breakfast bar when I walked in. He was sipping coffee and there was another full cup beside his.

Oh, come on!

He turned as I came into the kitchen, and I opted for standing

on the opposite side of the bar rather than sitting beside him. He slid the coffee over to me. I swept a tired hand across my face. It had been a long day.

And
it’s not over yet.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a grateful sip. Dad and I couldn’t cook to save ourselves but we both made wicked coffee.

“How’s your friend?” Dad asked.

“Fine.”

He nodded, and an awkward silence settled. Normally at this

point, Dad would get up to do some work or go to bed. He shifted in his seat.

“I…Vi…Actually, I’m going out tomorrow night. Ah, you

know, an after- work drink thing.”

I smiled, breathing out a little relief and breathing in the shift in power. “Caroline?” I asked slyly. I hoped it was Caroline. She’d been Dad’s personal assistant for as long as I could remember and 53

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Jessica shirvington

had always had a thing for him. I’d never thought Dad had noticed, but maybe I was wrong.

“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” he asked, suddenly sounding a

lot younger than he was.

I honestly didn’t think Dad had been on a date in seventeen

years. And I wasn’t exactly the best qualified to be giving out relationship advice right now, but I bit back the
All
relationships
end
in
heartbreak
or
mass
murder
comment on the tip of my tongue and settled for, “It’s a great idea, Dad.” And then I thought of a way to help myself out with another problem. “
And
I’m staying at Steph’s tomorrow night, so you’ll have the place all to yourself.”

Dad stood up like a rocket. “Violet,” he coughed. “It’s just an after- work drink.” He took his cup to the sink and emptied it

before reaching over to give me his signature kiss on the forehead.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Sweet dreams,” I teased, as he walked into his room at double

speed, and I had to stifle a laugh.

That
worked
out
well.

Not only had I slipped in that I wasn’t coming home tomorrow

night, but he’d also closed himself in his room, and I knew following
that
conversation, he would not resurface tonight.

I took my coffee and went to my art studio. I considered doing

some painting, but when I walked in there, I was reminded I had jammed all my art stuff up against the wall— exercise mats now

took up the majority of the space. I couldn’t get to anything without rearranging everything. There was no point doing a workout. I’d 54

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get one shortly anyway, so, instead, I found myself sitting on the windowsill where my angel maker always hovered.

I looked out, down over the city street as cars flew by, headlights blazing on one side of the road, red brake lights flashing on the other. I looked toward the park at the end of the road and then I pushed out my senses.

The park it was.

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chapter
six

“My love lies bleeding.”

THOMas CaMPBeLL

I changed into leggings and a gray turtleneck and slipped on a

beanie. I was pretty sure Dad was asleep, but if I left through the building’s front door, the security guy might say something to

him in the morning, so I headed for the balcony off the living room instead.

Twelve stories is a big drop. Fortunately for me, on this side of the building, every fll oor has a balcony at the same spot. Quietly, I slid the door open, just enough so I could shimmy out. It had a squeaky spot, but I’d closed it enough times to know just when to lift it a little to avoid the telltale noise. Getting down was going to be tricky; getting back up, just plain hard.

I hoisted myself over the railing, sitting on it and letting my feet dangle down.

Come
on, Vi, you’ve got this.

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If Zoe could catapult herself up here from a tree and Spence

could scale the walls, then surely I could bounce down. I held out my bad arm and fisted my hand a few times, deciding it would

hold up. I slid down so my feet balanced on the small ledge, turned so I was facing the wall, and let myself fall.

With a slap, I caught the railing of the balcony below as my feet scrambled until they found a grip. My heart was in my throat, but I’d done it.

Only
ten
more!

Each time, the adrenaline rose as I let go and dropped another

story. But by the time I reached the fifth floor, I had it in the bag.

When I landed on the pavement, I almost took out some poor guy

going for a night jog. He swerved and looked at me like I was some kind of lunatic but kept going.

I brushed myself off without making much improvement— the

outside of the building really needed a clean, and cobwebs are hard to shift. At least I was in gray.

Once I was reasonably presentable, I felt for my dagger and

headed toward the park. Despite my slipups in art class, I had

become increasingly good at keeping my guards up. Unless I

wanted them to, exiles couldn’t sense me as easily as they had once been able to.

It didn’t take long for me to connect with my angelic senses. An exile was near and not bothering with stealth. By the energy he was releasing that was now pulsing through my body, I suspected he

was hunting.

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I kept my guard up while I moved closer, wanting to size up

my opponent before letting him sense me. I weaved between the

trees rather than taking the path, using the shadows for cover. The anticipation of conflict ignited the combatant in me and I found myself almost hungry for the confrontation.