Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (124 page)

before my eyes. The hall was completely wooden— floors, walls,

and ceiling lined with heavy boards, almost red, polished so

much that they reflected the beams from the modern downlights

that were everywhere, making the place look like some kind of

starlit dungeon.

At the end of the long walkway, the faceless figure pushed open a heavy set of double doors and I noticed a long corridor to the right.

Whatever space existed down there was obviously big, and since I didn’t appear to be able to sense the faceless…things, I instantly worried there were many more of them lurking.

“Violet?” Lincoln spoke quietly, picking up on my unease.

I turned my attention back to him, and, despite the fear in his eyes, they were still his eyes and they made me feel better, stronger.

Together, we walked through the doors, which closed behind

us with a thud. I would have spun around…if I hadn’t been so

mesmerized by what was in front of us.

Living
harmony.

A grand room with a stone floor and more wood- lined walls,

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but this time with a combination of light and dark shades working together to give it…life. The paneling was incredible— some parts so dark, it was as if the wood had been burned before being molded to the walls, other parts so light, the wood was almost green with youth. Combined with the shades of the polished stone floor and the flickering candlelight from the wrought- iron lanterns, it was as if the room had its own spirit. We walked toward the far wall, and I was certain we were somewhere that was entirely, gracefully balanced and also entirely, unnervingly otherworldly.

How
long
has
this
place
been
here?

After carefully taking in our surroundings, Lincoln moved to

the corner and melted into the shadows, the best vantage point.

Watching his accuracy, I suspected he had spent some time

Ghosting at the Academy himself.

I stopped at the far wall, which was almost all glass and show-

cased a sweeping ocean view. The reflection of the full moon glistened in the water, rocked by its continuous motion. We were deep beneath the lighthouse, the glass exterior obviously hidden from human eyes and embedded in the cliff face.

“Beautiful,” a liquid voice rang out from the corner of the room.

My breath caught and I looked for the owner of the voice.

Someone had appeared behind us while I’d been gawking at the

view. I hadn’t even been paying attention to the senses, which had been growing stronger. As with my art, I had allowed myself to be absorbed by the design of the room, a potentially perilous oversight.

I had not even heard the door open, a thought that brought on

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a shiver. I shot a look at Lincoln, but he didn’t move or even seem to look back at me.

To my relief, the stranger— obviously an exile— had a face. The hollowness of the horrors that had greeted us was still with me, tugging at buried feelings that I did not want to resurface. Strangely, this being was not as striking as most exiles. He
was
handsome, but in a softer way, despite his imposing height. Hazelnut hair fell in gentle waves around his face, kind lines were etched into his tanned, olive skin, and his mocha eyes were warm but dangerous

at the same time. He was broad and muscled, yet the delicateness of his features somehow kept everything balanced. He looked like a friendly giant. But he was an exile.

I concentrated on my senses, letting them paint the truth. He

tasted of powdery red apples, like fruit that has been frozen and later thawed. He smelled more like herbs than flowers— thyme and rosemary. The sounds of birds’ wings flapping, crashing into trees, was not too different from usual, along with the conflicting sensations of warmth and chills that flowed through both my blood and bones. But when I looked for the flashes of morning and evening that came whenever I was near an exile— there was nothing.

He closed the distance between us and stopped in front of me.

“Incredibly beautiful,” he said, looking me up and down. He

glanced at Lincoln, who had become so still in the corner even
I
barely felt his presence.

“I am being spoiled tonight.” Desire flashed behind his soft eyes.

I cleared my throat nervously. I knew, as the one who had been

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called upon to do this job, that I had to do the talking if this was going to work.

“We’re here to give you the jewels in return for your permis-

sion to stay on Santorini.” My mouth was so dry, I had to swallow between the words.

“We’ll get to that in a moment. Would you not like to stay

for dinner first? At least a drink?” He smiled dangerously, which helped me start to see beyond my first impressions.

I didn’t know what we were supposed to say— but Josephine

hadn’t told me we would need to stay for a meal.

“We would prefer to make the exchange and be on our way.”

He tilted his head. “Your name?”

I could feel my palms getting clammy. “Violet.”

“And your shadow?”

“Lincoln,” I said, sounding as nervous as I felt. It would not help any of us if I lost control of the conversation so early. I stood a little taller. “And you are?”

“Many simply call me the Keeper now. Before that, I was known

as Irin. You may call me whichever you prefer.”

“Okay, Irin.”

A faceless figure entered the room carrying a tray with two flutes of champagne. He stopped in front of Irin, who gestured for me

to take a glass. But I couldn’t stop looking at this strange form, who caused echoes of torment to ring in my ears. Not nearly as

bad as the orchestra that had sounded when we entered but still distracting. And disturbing.

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Irin cleared his throat.

I looked back at the tray. “Oh. No. Thank you, but I’m okay.”

“Please, one drink will not hurt and I would be offended if you did not accept my hospitality.” He took the glass and held it out to me.

I wanted to look at Lincoln, ask him if he thought it was

poisoned. But I didn’t, scared of appearing weak. There was no way he could know, anyway.

I took the glass. Irin smiled and took the other, clinking it against mine and then drinking slowly, waiting for me to follow. I did.

Just champagne— as far as I could tell.

And
delicious.

I’d never tasted expensive wine like that before.

“Now, Violet, please turn around and show me my payment.”

I blushed and took another, larger, sip of champagne, noticing

as I did that my glass had somehow been refilled.

Imagination.

I took another sip. Same thing.

Probably
not
even
real. Tastes good though.

I started to turn around on the spot awkwardly.

“No,” Irin said. “This won’t work.” He moved closer to me and

took the glass from my hand. “Your hair, though beautiful down, would be better away from your neck for the moment. Would you

mind holding it up as you display the…offering?” I noticed he

didn’t say jewelry and I felt a tingle of fear at the base of my neck.

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both hands and started to turn, taking my time so he wouldn’t

make me do it again. I tried to steal a glance in Lincoln’s direction, but I couldn’t see him at all, despite feeling him and his power in the room.

When I had made a full turn, Irin seemed satisfied.

“Stunning,” he said and passed me back my champagne. I took

another sip.

I started to feel something strange and wondered if it was the

champagne. But it wasn’t like being drunk or even a reaction to a poison— it was almost…emotional. I pushed it aside.

“Do you like Santorini?” Irin asked, moving to the window.

“It’s beautiful. Is that why you live here?”

He laughed lightly. “Originally, perhaps. But now I cannot

fathom being anywhere else. I once built Utopia on this island, overflowing with wealth and sustenance— everything exactly as

we…” He trailed off and his eyes honed in on me. “I will never

leave. Though I do sometimes desire something new.”

“What rank were you from?” I asked, unsure if I’d gone too far.

Irin took it in stride, showing that no offense had been taken

by my question. “Originally? A Principality, then I was sent to this world. The first of my kind. Now, I am the last.” He seemed sad for a moment but snapped out of it quickly. “And I have discovered a way to survive.”

“By killing,” I said softly.

“From time to time, but my tastes rarely venture there for more than survival’s sake. I am not as lurid as my exile brethren, nor 268

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have I suffered the same mental derailment. A physical form was something that I was intended for, and as a result, I assimilated with more ease…however”— his expression shifted to somewhere

between conniving and forlorn— “I must admit, it has also left me with…needs.”

“What needs? What
are
you?” I asked, taking another sip of my drink, noticing that each time he did, I automatically felt the desire to do so too.

“My dear, ‘Irin’ is just another name for Grigori.”

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chapter
twenty- four

“Wherefore have you forsaken the lofty and holy heaven, which
endures for ever and have lain with woman; have defiled yourselves with the daughters of men; have taken to yourselves

wives…and have begotten an impious offspring?”

BOOk OF eNOCH 15:2

I backed up a step, stumbling.

“Do not fear,” he said, moving with me and clearly satisfi ed with my reaction. I put a hand out to the dining table I’d backed into, experiencing the same off beat sensation I had felt earlier, losing my strength for a second, as if it was being drained.

“Violet?” Lincoln said from the corner.

He was off ering to step in, but we both knew that wouldn’t end well. At best, we’d return Irin, but there were still nearly a dozen faceless unknowns waiting for us upstairs. Plus, I was quite sure there were other beings lurking around us now.

“You…you all died— in the fll ood,” I said to Irin, knowing

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Lincoln would wait. I’d heard the stories enough times by now.

When the floods came, they had destroyed all the exiles and the then- angel Grigori had turned on their duties, seeking vengeance and power and…women instead.

He smiled wryly. “A few always survive. Some of us were fortu-

nate to have been underground already when the waters came. This room you are standing in, and some more that lie below, was originally created as a basement for our palace.”

I looked at him, sure he was insane. We were so far beneath ground level, it couldn’t be the basement of anything, and I was pretty sure that at the time of the floods, civilizations were
not
building palaces.

“My wife and I stayed here until the waters receded, though I

admit it was a dark world for a while.”

Another shock. He had a wife?

“Yes,” he smiled, as if reading my mind. “My wife was the reason I lived here at first and abandoned my elect duties. She was a queen to her people. It was they who pulled a small group of us to safety and kept us beneath the ground.

“When we surfaced, we shared our knowledge and showed the

people how to build a world more incredible than anything they’d ever seen. Alas, it was a simpler time— easier to dazzle with the basics of water delivery and drainage— but we also showed them

how to build towns and castles. And”— he pointed in the direction of the volcano— “we were in the perfect location. Hidden as well as any place could be from the eyes of prying angels.” These last words spoken with raw hatred.

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“You know the volcano holds the gates to Hell?”

“Of course. But”— he shook his head— “in the end, that was

their demise.”

“Whose?”

Irin’s voice dropped so I had to strain to hear him.

“The exiles who survived with me grew tired of living on the

island. I tried. I sent them to Crete and told them to build their own kingdom there, but I knew it would be a short- lived solution.