Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (74 page)

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Authors: Jessica Shirvington

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I realized too that I’d always begrudged it. Even when I’d

stood on that cliff, it crossed my mind before I jumped— that by becoming Grigori, by becoming his partner, I was not only helping him but also ensuring that we’d never be together.

Thinking of him directly, I had a surge of nearness. Lincoln was close. My body reacted, my
power
reacted, knowing he wasn’t far.

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It was like I was starving for him. The human
and
the angel.
How
could
that
be?

Steph rattled out the address and as she did, the craziness of it all settled in and her words slowly registered. My eyes looked up and across the road to what was now an abandoned building.

The senses erupted within, encouraged by knowledge, my

angelic part now on the hunt.

“Oh. My. God.”

“What?” Steph asked on the other end of the phone just as

Spence said it from right beside me.

“It’s across the road,” I replied, answering them both. “They’re across the damn road.”

————

I could have cursed myself for not trying to pinpoint the senses when we first arrived at the hotel. I could have blamed myself

for not using my connection to Lincoln earlier. I could have felt responsible for putting Spence in direct danger as I charged into the hotel elevator with him, desperate to get to Lincoln in time. I could have done a lot of things.

Instead, I thought of the time that Lincoln had asked me to tell him I loved him. My mind went back to that terrible day when I first became Grigori, to healing him and feeling completely connected to, and yet disconnected from, him. Everything was wrong for us that day— but it was the one day he’d told me the most. The day he’d confessed he cared. That, like me, he’d fantasized about us being together. I could almost hear his words.

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“I had planned
everything— the candles, the lilies
.” Since we’d sorted everything out after I became Grigori, we’d

settled on just being friends— it was the only option— but Lincoln had always kept a vase of lilies in the warehouse. Always white— my favorite. When Griffin had commented one day, Lincoln just

smiled and told him they brightened the place. But he’d glanced at me, his eyes green and perfect, glistening with something that we both knew deep down was our secret.

There were lots of things I should have been thinking. Tactical thoughts would have been sensible, but in that elevator and running through that lobby full of pretentious rich people who would never get it, everything came down to one simple thing: there was no

limit to what I was willing to do for him.

No limit whatsoever.

In the lobby, I pushed past the businessman who thought the

world revolved around him as he paced in the middle of the

walkway on his cell phone. I jumped over the Louis Vuitton

luggage that had been dumped near the entrance, and I didn’t

even spare a glance for Spence. I threw all of my strength—

which was way too much— into the front entryway doors before

the designated doorman even reached for the handle, and flung

myself through them into the street as the shattered glass fell to the ground behind me.

Franticness overtook. I wasn’t going to let Lincoln do this—

especially if part of him felt like he was doing it to protect me.

The doorman yelled at me to stop. I was too fast.

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I understood this choice better than anyone. It’s not that I regret the decisions I’ve made, but if I’d had another choice…It would have been nice to have had another option.

The visions that had tormented me at that old farmhouse

taunted me again. The decisions that were made in that desert

when I embraced. The choices that haunted me in my dreams and

plagued me when awake.

It seemed so obvious now— of course it was my greatest fear.

I was hurling myself into the road, dodging traffic on a busy six-lane street as I remembered how I’d rammed my own dagger into

myself. How sharp the point had been, how easily it had sliced into my flesh, how easily I had forced it in. I had struck myself down with that killing blow, and it wasn’t the question but rather the answer that disturbed me. A car honked, another swerved, and all I could think was:

I’ll never know.

I’ll never really know who I killed that day.

It was agony to admit that on some level, I honestly believed I really
had
killed part of myself— my humanity. As I became more and more powerful as Grigori, I feared my humanity was slipping farther and farther away, and that frightened the crap out of me.

I would not, would not,
would
not
let that happen to Lincoln.

I reached the other side of the road and gasped desperately for air.

I wasn’t tired at all, but I felt as if my insides had seized and my lungs had compressed with the terrible truth. I had no idea who I was.

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I straightened, took one final gasp, and then I pulled myself

together.

Remember
the
rules, Vi: no quitting, no running!

Spence leapt into position beside me, cars honking like mad.

He didn’t speak. What was the point? He knew we were going in.

Nothing in this world was going to stop me, and he was along for the ride. No invitation issued or required.

I wasn’t about to let Lincoln do something that might make him

later question his beautiful humanity, the very light that shines out of him at all times. I simply wouldn’t allow it. There were no limits anymore; there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect that— because I knew.

I wouldn’t quit on Lincoln.

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chapter
twenty- two

“Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with
the darkness of other people.”

CaRL JuNG

Th e front door to the building, or rather the massive piece of rotted, fll aking plywood that was covering the entryway, had already been partially ripped off and was hanging loosely from the last few nails.

I could sense the exiles clearly now. We pushed aside the make-

shift door and entered. I paused to focus my senses.

“What now?” Spence whispered.

“Th ey’re upstairs,” I said without breaking concentration. Th ey were directly above us. I drew into my power—not just my senses, but beyond.

It was like the night at Hades when I’d felt Onyx and Joel

coming, like what I had started to feel at the airport— as if some element of myself, not physical, was being lifted off the ground.

I became somehow separate from myself, able to go anywhere

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I wanted with just a thought. My senses moved through walls,

rooms, and ceilings. Capable.
Powerful
. I moved upstairs, faster than my body could carry me, and found them. A group of exiles.

Lincoln and Magda. They were already fighting.

I came back to myself and felt disoriented. A sensation not dissimilar to the car sickness I’d felt earlier overwhelmed me momentarily.

Spence was right up in my face and I had to step back to rein-

state the required distance. His brow was furrowed. He was looking at me like some kind of puzzle he couldn’t work out.

Join
the
club.

“There are four of them.” But I knew more than that— I knew,

for example, that three of them had been angels of dark, but that the other must have been Nahilius because he had been an angel

of light. I recognized one as the exile we’d let go that night at the farmhouse. It was strange. I couldn’t see him, recognize him by his look or characteristics; it was more of an internal signature.

It was all connected. This was my proof. Phoenix. Somehow he

was calling the shots. The thing I didn’t understand was:
How?
Surely everything couldn’t have just fallen into place for him so perfectly?

“Spence, they’re already fighting. Magda has two, and Lincoln

is fighting the other two, one of them being Nahilius. Listen”— I grabbed his shoulder— “none of them are all that powerful. This is weird. I mean, Phoenix is behind all of this. Why didn’t he send exiles who would be more of a threat?”

“Maybe they have weapons too?” Spence suggested. But I

couldn’t see that.

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“Maybe.”

“So? How do you want to play this?”

Sacrifice is a funny thing. Sometimes the less time we have to

think about something, the more we’re willing to do. Maybe if I’d had the luxury of time and consideration, I would have made a

different decision. I’ll never know.

I didn’t tell Spence everything, just the part he would play. It’s not that I particularly thought he’d have a problem with it, but, well, I didn’t want him to jump the gun.

“Let’s go,” I said, already moving.

We ran up the stairs and into the open first level. The floor

had been stripped bare, right down to the concrete. Stray electrical wiring hung from the ceiling. Everything of any kind of value had been taken, and the rest, it appeared from the piles of ash that were all over the floor, had been burned to keep squatters warm in the winter.

Buildings like this don’t stay vacant for long in the city. There was nowhere to hide, no partitioning walls or desks to scramble under, so Spence and I ran right into the middle of the action.

We moved straight past the two exiles Magda was fighting off

without pause. She didn’t stop fighting or let down her guard, but she saw us. And I saw her register…surprise.

Spence and I kept moving forward, sticking to the plan.

Spence threw himself into the fight with the exile who was

grappling with Lincoln, which left Lincoln with only Nahilius to concentrate on. Lincoln moved in on Nahilius, who was clearly

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outmatched. I was surprised to see how battle- shy this infamous exile was. Maybe when he’d had the help of the other exile, he had had a chance at holding off his opponent, but now it was one on one and Nahilius had no game.

It could have been because Lincoln’s force was unrelenting as he threw solid fist after fist into Nahilius’s face— and by the state of the other exiles, had already been there, done that— but I had not seen such lame fighting from an exile before.

I was just getting centered when Lincoln screamed something.

I think it was, “Magda!” but I can’t be sure because it was overruled by a god- awful crack and boom that reverberated through

the building.

Gunfire isn’t a sound normally associated with fighting exiles, so it threw everyone. We all paused, a super- fast intake of what had just happened. Magda had shot one of the exiles she was fighting.

It was crazy to think all of this had taken place within a few

seconds of Spence and me coming up the stairs.

I heard Lincoln yell, “Get out of here!”

I assumed the order was for me. I ignored it.

The exile who had been shot— in the throat, of all horrific

places— writhed on the floor, screaming while gurgling on his

own blood.

It was wrong. Magda could’ve returned him; instead, she’d

chosen this torture.

Grigori exist to get rid of exiles. We have to take whatever steps are necessary to protect human life, to guard free will, and hopefully 269

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not get killed in the process, but nowhere in the job description does it say torture and maim. That’s what exiles do. It is one of the all- important distinctions. Griffin had told me that very thing.

Magda had just crossed the line.

Blood flowed from the exile’s neck freely for a few moments

before it stopped. He was already healing, but that didn’t make it okay.

I refocused on the job at hand. Lincoln was still pounding

into Nahilius, who surprised me by getting in a few hits to

Lincoln as well.

Magda screamed out, “Shoot him!” and Lincoln’s hand went

to his waist. I could see his dagger and the handle to what must have been another gun poking out from his jeans. He pulled out

his dagger.

“Get out, Violet!” Lincoln growled at me.

But I was exactly where I needed to be.

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