Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (114 page)

watching me or yelling, “There goes the bionic woman.”

Because
no
one
cares. And why should I? Why does it have to be
me
who
chases
angels
who
abandon
their
realm? Why do
I
have
to
give
up
everything? Everyone!

And then more thoughts started tumbling, the ones that hurt

the most. I heaved for air as my throat tightened.

Why
is
it
so
easy
for
him? How can he just go on the way he does?

Why isn’t he screaming or losing it like me?

It was unfair. I wanted to see him break down, damn it.

I kept running until I hit a small people- free park. I ran to the center and dropped to my knees, panting. Not because I was tired, 175

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which I was, but because my throat had closed so tight, I wheezed with every breath. I needed to escape.

But
I
can’t escape from myself!

I dug my hands into the grass, my fingers strong, sliding into the dirt as I grabbed tight fistfuls of earth and tried to reel myself in, gain control. I ended up just throwing the soil and starting again, digging small holes until I was surrounded by a trench. My breathing got tighter and tighter and, when I couldn’t force them back anymore, the tears started to fall. Soon my trench would be a moat.

The worst part was I could deal with all of it— the fighting, the risk, the pain, the responsibility, the sacrifices. All but one thing.

Why
can’t I just be with him?

Everything would be okay if I had him. If we could be what we

were supposed to be, if I could let my soul open to him the way it yearned for me to do.

The vision of Rudyard’s lifeless body forced its way into my

mind. Then the sound of Nyla’s final scream, her soul shattering.

Forever lost.

I imagined what such a loss would feel like. It helped calm me a bit, the thought of how terrible I’d feel should Lincoln witness and then have to endure my death.

Not
that
I
would
actually
see
it. I’d be dead.

But he would be like Nyla. Forever trapped.

Lincoln thought the opposite. I knew when he saw these images,

it was him who was dead and the sound of my scream that haunted him. Just like in Jordan, he would dive in front of any attacker to 176

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save me. But I also knew that Phoenix had a weapon Lincoln could not shield me from.

I felt him approaching, slowly moving in on me. He must’ve run

to have caught up with me so fast. I closed my eyes tight, digging my fingers into the soil again, so hard my knuckles burned against the small embedded stones.

He stood silently behind me. He didn’t touch me; he just waited while I cried.

It took me awhile to pull myself together, and when I turned to face him, the sun was beginning to lose what little warmth it had been giving. By then, he was sitting on the ground, looking out over the field.

“How many hours a day are you training?” he asked eventually.

“I…I don’t know.”

“I was right about your fighting. You’re all over the place. You can’t do this, Violet, not when you’re so busy fighting yourself. You need to focus on beating your opponent. The only way you’ll do

that is if you rest, eat, and find the right mind space.”

I grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it in front of me. “It’s not that easy. Not everyone is like you.”

His head snapped up then he shook it sadly. “You think this

is easy for me?” He took a deep breath. “If you want to be better, you’ll listen to me and do as I tell you.”

Lincoln stood up. “Come on,” he said.

I thought he wanted to drag me back to his place or take me

home, but when I looked up, he raised his eyebrows, challenging me.

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I wanted to keep digging my trench to somewhere else, some-

where happier, but I stood up and dusted off my hands.

“Stand still,” he said. “Only move to strike. Take your time,

watch me carefully, and when you move, move fast and with all of your power.”

It sounds simple enough, but it’s not. I like to move around and try and manipulate the fight. This went against my natural instincts.

Lincoln stood in front of me, arms loose by his side. I mirrored his pose, trying to keep myself still.

“Breathe,” he said.

When he took a few steps to my right, I didn’t follow. When he

came back to my left, I stood still. He moved a few paces back to my right, close to my side and then, from the corner of my eye, I saw his hand flinch.

My arm went out so fast it caught his in midflight and my

other hand, fisted tight, did not hesitate to go straight into his now- open body.

Lincoln stumbled back a few steps. “Good,” he said, straight-

ening. “Again.”

I nodded and kept my position as he moved in on me.

He struck out at me occasionally from different directions.

Each time, I managed to block him and get in a few more hits.

But I grew impatient and moved from my position to try to finish him off. That’s when he caught me off- balance and spun me into a death grip.

With my back against his body, we were the closest we’d been in 178

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weeks. He’d beaten me, but suddenly all I could focus on was his chest moving up and down against my back, mirroring my own. I

couldn’t stop exhaling with the relief that came from having him near me. It was as if my entire being, body, spirit,
soul,
needed him.

Lincoln rested his chin on the top of my head and we stayed like that for a moment, until he squeezed me and whispered, “I know.” He released his hold on me and we stepped away from each other.

“We should go,” Lincoln said. “You’ll miss your curfew.”

“You don’t trust me,” I said. I didn’t blame him. Right then, it took everything I had not to throw myself back into his arms and beg him to commit himself to an eternity of suffering just for me.

He backed up a few steps and closed his eyes briefly. “It’s not you I don’t trust.”

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chapter
sixteen

“You hope for light, but he will turn it to thick darkness and
change it to deep gloom.”

JereMIaH 13:16

Over the next three days, I found a better stride. Partly because of Lincoln’s words and partly because being grounded meant I wasn’t out hunting every night. Instead, I brought out my paints for the fi rst time in a while and realized just how much I’d been missing my art.

Dad, probably out of guilt, had bought me a new set of paint-

brushes and left them in my studio. Th e strange thing was, everything I painted in some way seemed to refl ect the image of a

rainbow. It wasn’t until I’d fi nished three canvases and stood in front of them that I noticed the unnerving pattern.

Griffi n was right. Th ere was still so much we didn’t understand about my abilities. Exiles called me a rainbow, but what did that mean? Th e Rainbow represented a link between the realms. But

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what that meant for me was still a mystery, and I wasn’t too keen on turning into some magical arch after a rainstorm.

I’d been doing as Lincoln said and, for the last couple of nights, even managing to get a few hours’ sleep. I was eating meals and still training hard, but resting when needed. I could already feel the difference. My mind was clearer and I felt stronger in every way.

It was Wednesday and weekdays were proving difficult since I

was supposed to be home straight after school, but I’d managed a couple of quick drop- ins to Hades on my way back with Steph to get more research supplies and check on Dapper…and Onyx.

Griffin still had Grigori posted at Hades around the clock.

Officially, it was for security. Unofficially, it was to keep an eye on Onyx. So far, no trouble had been spotted, but Onyx had pulled

me aside and told me he wanted to talk to me. I’d promised to

return in the morning, which meant tomorrow I was going to have to break the rules of my grounding and skip school.

Yeah, well, “for the greater good” and all that.

Steph had been spending some afternoons, like today, at my

place, and some working on the translation with Dapper, who

seemed more willing than ever to share his expertise. I’d given up trying to help— Steph didn’t come over for my code- breaking prowess; she just liked working on it from my home instead of her own. From what I could gather, she hadn’t had a conversation with her mother in days, and the last she heard from her father, he’d had no immediate plans to come home. Steph had been working on

the Scripture code constantly, trying to decipher what it all meant.

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After giving up on my canvas, I returned to my bedroom where

Steph was sprawled out on the floor. I could tell by the dark circles under her eyes and the fact she was drinking almost as much coffee as me that she hadn’t been getting much sleep lately.

“Have you been in touch with Salvatore?” I asked from the doorway.

“A couple of days ago. Last thing I heard, he and Zoe were

concocting some crazy plan.” She threw down her pen. “He’ll

probably never come back.”

I scooted down beside her and pulled her in for a hug. “Yes he

will. And if he can’t find a way to get here, we will.” And I meant it wholeheartedly. Right now, my only opinion about the Academy was,
Screw
their
stupid
rules!

Steph hugged me tight, then pulled away and picked up her pen

and empty mug.

“Coffee?” she asked, smiling. “I’m on the verge of getting this, I swear.”

I rolled my eyes and snatched the cup. If anyone was on the

verge of a breakthrough, it was Steph, but she’d been pulling that line on me for days, and I was sick of being her waiter.

On my way to the kitchen, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Jase leaning casually against the frame. He was dressed in jeans and a blue, patterned shirt. He definitely had the relaxed- DJ

look going for him. Normal height, just a little taller than me, and a fortunate build so that even though I knew he didn’t work out, he didn’t look weedy. His best feature was his hair— the same pale blond as Steph’s— and with his blue eyes and darker brows, it was striking.

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“Hey, Jase,” I said, smiling.

“Hi. Is Steph ready?”

I shook my head. “She’s just in the middle of something. She

asked me for coffee. Are you in a rush?” If Steph was really on the verge of that breakthrough, I wanted to give her a few more minutes.

Jase shrugged and stepped into the apartment. “I’ve got some

time. If you’re making me coffee too, that is.” He flashed an easygoing smile back in my direction, headed straight for the kitchen, and took a seat at the bar. “So, how’s school going?”

I started making the drinks.

“Good. Almost finished. Last exams next month and then I’ve

got the Fenton course.”

“That Fenton course is pretty exclusive from what I hear— you

must be good.”

I shrugged self- consciously.

“I guess you’ll be glad to be finished with school. What’s the

plan after? College?”

His question completely stumped me. I’d stopped thinking

about my future. Even when Dad had started harping on about it

the other day, I’d just blanked on it. Jase must have seen the look on my face.

“Hey, don’t stress. It’s not a trick question. A lot of people take some time after school to figure out what they want to do.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“Maybe,” he said, smiling again.

He didn’t say any more as I finished making the coffee. I

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passed him a latte, hoping that he liked his coffee with milk. He took a sip.

“So, Steph mentioned your dance is coming up next month.”

“Yeah.” I wasn’t planning on going.

“She’s still pining over that guy who was visiting a couple of