Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (46 page)

“Stay focused. Stick to the plan.” His tone left little room for discussion.

Great. The plan. The one that has me all dagger happy.

Except
I’m not.

Lincoln and Griffin had insisted that I still had to enter combat the same way as all other Grigori, that it wasn’t enough for me to rely on my power to get me out of everything. In theory, I agreed.

But at this very moment— standing smack bang in the middle of

a slaughter zone while two overstimulated, decidedly unhinged

exiles moved in on us— it seemed extreme.

The exiles stopped in front of us, smiling. They assessed us the way only otherworldly creatures can— a flick of the eyes, showing a defensive mechanism and hunger at the same time. Exiles, whether light or dark, hate Grigori and love killing us above all others. We are their greatest, their
only
, threat. If exiles are successful in eliminating the Grigori, there will be no hope for anyone else.

“You are a little late,” said the shorter of the two, the one with the bloodied arm, like he’d been waiting for us.

Lincoln had already positioned himself level with him, not

that I needed the heads up that this one was the more derailed of the two.

“It’s a pity. We would have liked to keep a few to tear apart in front of you. I prefer an audience. But we got bored.” He smiled, 14

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showing perfectly white teeth, pink full lips. Had I not been so sure of the senses, I would have sworn he was a sixteen- year- old jock. That was the thing about exiles: they all looked healthy and strong, in their prime.

“You knew we were coming?” Lincoln asked, twisting his body

a little more, shielding me.

The exile laughed. “I have a message for you.”

“And I thought your days as messengers were over.”

The jock- looking exile licked his lips, barely restraining himself.

“The reward of getting to kill you”— he glanced at me— “and her, is sufficient incentive.”

“Well?” Lincoln said, showing no concern.

The exile’s smile broadened and he spoke slowly. “Nahilius said to tell you he’s coming for what’s yours.”

Lincoln stiffened. The exile cackled loudly.

“Make your choice,” Lincoln growled, giving the exile the

opportunity to choose to have his power stripped and become only human, or be returned. There was no denying that, when he went

into fighter mode, he was lethal. But so were they.

“Choice?” The jock boy laughed. “So kind of you to offer.

I think I will choose decapitation for you and something a bit

more…fly- by- the- seat- of- my- pants for her.” He looked to me, his buddy laughing away. Then I saw it. It was gone as quickly as it had come, but it was definitely there. Recognition.

He could sense me, could sense my power. Of course, given

what he could sense and what he’d probably heard I could do to

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Jessica shirvington

him, he should have run. Instead, true to exile form, he lunged toward me, relishing the challenge.

Lincoln’s arm shot out, his forearm slamming into the exile’s

neck, breaking his speed and redirecting his attention. That was all I had time to see before the other one wound up for a right hook to my head.

Why
is
it
that
they
all
know
how
to
fight?

Exiles seemed to come to earth and take human forms, and,

although none of them had great technique, they all knew how to hit. Hard. Luckily for me, thanks to many hours of training and some angelic augmentation, so did I.

We exchanged blow for blow. I’m not short for a girl, but he

was tall for a man, so he had that over me. He got in a few good knocks to my face, but he really favored his right side, so I just kept moving toward it, getting nice and close so he couldn’t gain any leverage. I was getting on top of things; a series of kicks to his legs had left him shaky. I hadn’t landed one in that magic spot that would blow out his knee, but he was stumbling.

A glow of colors lit up to my right. I knew what it was, but I

looked anyway. Lincoln had the jock in a headlock and as I turned, I saw him plunge his dagger into the exile, returning him. What I failed to see was the tall exile’s fist heading straight for my ear. It was a sucker punch, but then these guys had no morals, let alone fighting ethics. I was caught off- balance and could feel blood seeping down the side of my neck as I fell.

My hand went instinctively to my dagger as the exile came down

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on top of me. My fingers wrapped around the hilt. There was an

opening. If I hadn’t hesitated, I could have gotten the dagger out; I
could
have returned him.

Instead, my shoulder smashed into the gravel road and I quickly rolled onto my back in an attempt to evade him. He collided

into me so hard I felt the top of my spine grind into the road

and screamed. I punched him in the face twice, but he was too

close now and had taken the advantage. He drove his knee into my stomach and drew back a clenched fist for what I knew was going to hurt a lot.

But it didn’t. He never got his chance.

All I saw was Lincoln’s dagger coming through the exile’s chest, the glory of his power’s colorful mist, and then, the exile was gone.

Lincoln stood above me, strong and ready for anything. I looked into his fighting eyes and they softened for a moment. He put his hand out and helped me up. It was warm and real, and he pulled

me into him and wrapped an arm around me to help me walk.

“I couldn’t…” I wanted to explain, to give an acceptable excuse.

I was letting him down by not stepping up. I wasn’t just putting myself in danger, but everyone else as well.

The bodies of the exiles had disappeared, but we were still

surrounded by a killing field of homeless dead people no one

would claim and barely any would even notice were gone. I felt

bad walking away, like I was being disrespectful, but there was no option. We’d inform the police anonymously later. We couldn’t risk getting pulled into murder investigations we could never explain.

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“You did great. I can’t sense any more of them,” he said, looking around. “Can you?” He sounded unusually anxious.

“No,” I said. “Do you know what they were talking about?

Who’s Nahilius?”

Lincoln hesitated. “Just a troublemaker. No one for you to

worry about.”

“Oh,” I said, keeping my eye on him as he looked away.

Lincoln tightened the arm he had around me, supporting me.

“It’s just going to take some time. What you went through…in the desert. It’s okay that you need some time.”

“You’re upset with me. I can see it,” I said, wincing at the pain in both my ear and the back of my neck.

“What’s the first rule in combat, Violet?” He spoke in his

training voice. This time my cringe wasn’t at the pain, but at the stupidity that I was about to have to admit to.

“Never take your eyes off your opponent.”

“Exactly.” We walked on. He didn’t need to say any more. We

both knew this one was all on me.

When we turned the corner, out into a busier street, he pulled

me a little closer protectively. I loved being tucked in his arms, wrapped in his warmth, and wished we could have our chance to

explore what we were to one another.

“We need to get you away from here so I can heal you.”

A drunk man dressed in a suit of rags slumped against the wall

by the roadside, and as we passed, his almost- empty bottle fell from his hands, clinking into the gutter and making me look down. I

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stopped walking. I could feel something. Not the senses, some-

thing else. It was…stale. A lingering shadow of something…

I reached down and picked up the bottle to hand to the derelict, but I hadn’t thought it through, and as I straightened, I paid the price with a wicked head spin followed by the throb of all throbs from my neck right up to my temples.

I shut my eyes briefly and took a slow breath. Lincoln steadied me.

“You dropped this,” I said, holding the bottle out to the drifter.

The man looked up.

So many things happened within a split second. First, the effort of reaching out made the man lose balance and his upper half

joined his lower half on the ground again. Second, I gasped. Third, Lincoln pushed me behind him and pulled out his dagger in the

middle of a busy street.

Then…Onyx burst out laughing.

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chapter
three

“But we all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our
flesh; few are angels…”

WILLIaM shaKespeaRe

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for you”—he hiccupped through a series of wet, chesty coughs—“to come kill me with your little knife!” He lay back on the ground, arms splayed. “Go ahead! Anywhere

you like! Just make it count, but not my face.” He closed his

eyes and laughed again while he started to sing a tuneless ditty.

“Finally…fi nally…fi nally…they have come for me!”

“Oh my God,” I said, pulling up to stand beside Lincoln.

Th ere are a great many things to fear out there, even when you are supernaturally strong and fast, and although the memories of what this former exile had done to me— how he had fi lleted me through the back and smiled as he watched life drain from my body— were fresh, there was little doubt that this man was a mere shadow of what had once been: a very formidable, frightening enemy.

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“What are you doing here?” Lincoln asked, not nearly as steady

as usual. I realized he might be remembering his own near- death experience at the hands of Onyx. My hand flinched, instinctively wanting to comfort him, but I stopped myself. It wasn’t cool to show weakness— and it was even less cool to expose someone else’s.

Onyx opened his eyes into slits and wheezed some more. “Christ

be damned! You haven’t come to kill me, have you?”

“No,” I said.

“I suppose you were after that lot down the road. Noisy ones.

No finesse.” Even through slurred words, the sounds of contempt and longing were clear. “I see they had some fun with you, though,” he said, looking at the blood dripping from my ear.

“So much fun they’re no longer with us,” I sniped defensively,

although I could hardly take the credit.

“Lucky bastards.”

“You can still sense them?” Lincoln asked.

“In a way. Not that I needed to. Would’ve been more subtle if

they’d come in with tanks. If you haven’t come to kill me, go away.” He snatched the bottle that was still dangling from my hand and shuffled back to the wall.

I glanced at Lincoln. He looked appalled by the sight and stench of this man. I was sure his reaction was mirrored in my own face.

“What are we going to do?” I asked.

“What do you mean? We’re going to get out of here and get you

healed. Come on.” He motioned for us to move on, yet his eyes

didn’t leave Onyx.

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“Have you, umm…seen one like this before?” I swayed a little,

the pain becoming unbearable. The shock had held it off till now.

“No,” he said, hiding his concern with impatience. “You’re

losing too much blood.”

I shook my head and recoiled. “I know this is going to sound

crazy, but I can’t just…Could we at least get him cleaned up a bit?” I held my breath.

Lincoln pulled me a few paces away from where Onyx was in the

process of finishing the dregs of what looked like a bottle of bourbon.

“Violet, are you forgetting what he did?” he asked in a hushed

but frantic tone.

“No, I just— ”

“This could be some kind of setup. He said himself he could still sense them; he’s probably working with them.” He shook his head then looked back at Onyx again. “It’s too risky. Especially with the state you’re in.”

“We don’t have to take him anywhere private. We’re due to meet

with Griffin in a minute. Maybe we should just take him to Hades with us?”

Before we could talk any more, Onyx pulled himself up to

standing, using the wall for balance. He looked over to us and

then…
spat
.

We watched as his loogie hit Lincoln’s boot, and then we simul-