Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (95 page)

Her head lifted, now more determined. “I have terms.”

He already knew what they were, had discussed them with her

in her dreams.

“They have been accepted as long as you are willing to pay the

price. Do you have it?”

She nodded and reached under her blanket, revealing one of

her silver wristbands. She slipped it on her arm carefully while cradling the baby, and raised her brow; she hadn’t expected it to be that easy.

“You really need her.”

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He tilted his head once in mute confirmation that carried

remorse. It was hard for him, to admit their failings, admit that they had to turn to humans to make these sacrifices because they could not contain their own forces.

“Swear you will make sure she wears the amulet.” Evelyn pushed

herself up a little with one hand to sit. As she did, she felt the strength draining from her. She ignored it as best she could and focused on her daughter again.

“You have already defeated her. It is not certain she will return,” he said.

“Swear!” She wasn’t going to let this drop; she had seen too

much, fought too hard.

“I swear,” he conceded, impressed by her intuition as much as

with her sacrifice.

She shook her head, silent until finally she let a tear escape, and whispered, “Just another lamb to the slaughter.”

He pulled himself away from the view and walked toward her.

“Not just any lamb. You forget— you are part angel too.”

“When?” she asked, though she could already feel it.

“Now.”

“I’m one hundred eighty- seven years old. Has it all been worth it?” They both looked at the baby.

“You’ll have to tell me,” he said, surprised by the effect the proximity of the child was having on him.

Evelyn knew she had only minutes left. She took hold of the

nurses’ call button.

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Jessica shirvington

“Give me a moment to be with my family. Stand away, where I

cannot sense you. I want to finish this as a human.”

“You still believe in humanity after all you have seen?”

The heart rate monitor started beeping frantically. Evelyn kissed the top of the baby’s head, inhaling her scent again and again as she pressed the alarm.

“Only a human can have this, however briefly. I would not give

you my life and hand you her fate if I did not believe.”

“I will travel with you, to a point, if you like,” he offered.

She couldn’t deny her fear. “Company would be nice.”

The doors flew open as the midwife raced in, followed by the

doctor with James close behind.

The midwife couldn’t hide her horror when she saw the state

of the sheets, now red. She started pulling the bedding off as the doctor began trying to fix the problem Evelyn knew he never could.

James’s face had turned ghost white. Evelyn held out the neatly wrapped bundle of life to him. His arms shook as he took the baby.

He knew this was bad. He could see it in her eyes.

Evelyn watched him, savoring her last moments with him.

“Tell me what’s happening!” James pleaded, trying desperately

to avoid his wife’s all- too- accepting, fire- blue eyes.

The doctor didn’t answer, yelling for more people instead. It

would be too late.

“James,” she said, but he couldn’t look. She tried again, softly.

“James, I’ve thought of a name.”

“What?” he asked, through quivering lips.

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“She is the heart of the Keshet, James. She is Violet.” It was all she could muster. The most she could offer as explanation for what lay ahead. She’d told him tales of the Rainbow before. She hoped he’d tell Violet one day.

“Violet.” He nodded and wiped his tear- streaked face.

“It’s okay,” she reassured.

James looked at the doctor and watched, disconnected, as he

responded with the slightest shake of his head. His heart fell to a depth it had never known.

“I love you both.”

“We love you, Evelyn,” James whispered.

————

He
was there for her the moment it was over, and he stayed with her through the journey. Later, he returned to the child Evelyn had named Violet and he left with her, the part of himself he could only ever give once.

Now all he could do…was wait.

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chapter
one

“As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven,
it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape.”

JOHN LaNCasTer sPaLDING

Smooth black lines bled from me— soul to hand to paper— begging for release. Charcoal wasn’t my usual medium, but lately it seemed appropriate. With my back to the window, the sun cast a bright

glow around my shadow on the remaining white. Beyond that, the

charcoal began to carve out stronger, sharper lines as I dived deeper and lost myself in my work. Th at’s what art did to me— it almost made time stand still.

Almost.

I was diff erent, despite my eff orts not to show it. I couldn’t fool myself. Th e best I could do was stick to the rules. It was the only way.

School, training, and research— when I was of any use. Th at’s how I held on to the control that had never been so important or so fragile.

Lines had been drawn. Phoenix had gotten what we wanted— the

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Grigori Scripture— and yet he’d be willing to do anything to get his hand on what we
had
gotten. And if I should die in the process of him getting it back? Well, he’d see it as a well- deserved victory.

That didn’t mean I was going to make it easy for him. If the

Grigori Scripture remained in the hands of exiles, an unfathomable number of innocent lives would be at stake. So, that left us with his suggestion— the trade. It wasn’t ideal. If Phoenix got the Exile Scripture, he was going to do something so devastating we could not even begin to comprehend the price.

Or how many would have to pay it.

How
does
one
really
calculate
the
cost
of
resurrecting
the
mother
of
all
darkness
from
Hell?

I tasted the apple, sweet and young, and smelled the flowers, so heavy with pollen the air thickened. I flinched at their nearness, but I was slow to react, still lost in my haunting thoughts. My charcoal slashes grew rigid and intense. I channeled the sound I heard of wings crashing, along with the flashes of morning and evening.

They ripped through my vision, into the paper on my easel.

I finally snapped out of it at Miss Kinkaid’s distinctive throat clearing. She was hovering over my artwork. I didn’t need to

guess why.

“Ah- hem, Violet— ”

But now that I was aware of my surroundings again, my entire

body rang with alarm bells.

Damn
it, not again.

Griffin was going to be pissed.

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Jessica shirvington

“Miss Kinkaid, you need to move away from the window,” I

said, cutting her off before she could start her critique.

I stood and took a few deep breaths to steady my angelic senses.

It was bad enough for normal Grigori, who had one, occasionally two, senses. I was the first to experience all five, and it was more than overload.

“I,
well…
I beg your pardon?” She slapped her hand over her chest as if I had just insulted her very existence.

I rolled my eyes.

Same
reaction
every
time.

“Yes. Now. And the rest of you!” I called out to my art class.

Luckily, we were a relatively small group of fifteen. “Backs against the far wall!” I ordered, grabbing my cell phone and typing in OIO3

before hitting send and dropping it.

Out
in
open, three exiles en route.

Yeah, we’d even come up with an abbreviation for my…spells.

Sometimes I just couldn’t stop my defenses from dropping—

especially when I was working on art. I just forgot about everything else. And when I didn’t have my shields up, I drew exiles like a magnet.

My classmates looked at me like I was a freak, and even though

I didn’t have time to care, it still grated on me.

Maybe
because
they’re right.

“I’m really sorry, everyone, but move it!” I said, starting to drag people from one side of the room to the other, the display of my inhuman strength leaving my fellow students’ eyes popping out of 10

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their heads and mouths hanging agape. The outright screaming

would start later, when they realized that this wasn’t some practical joke. For now, everyone was affecting a certain amount of cool, just in case there was a hidden camera. As it was, I could already see Tristan Newland holding up his cell phone.

Exiles were almost here. I cursed myself. If I’d just kept my

shields up for another half hour, I would have been outside school grounds and this whole thing would be easier.

The thing about exiled angels is there aren’t many rules they

have to— or bother to— follow, and while it’s difficult for them to locate Grigori, angel- human hybrids like me, in our homes due

to some kind of protective barriers all homes naturally emit, every other place, including school, was fair game.

I pulled off my sweater. “The windows are going! Close your

eyes!” I commanded my classmates, who were now starting to react.

Only half of them took me seriously, burying their faces in their knees. Maybe they thought I was taking them hostage. It probably didn’t look good when I pulled out my very lethal- looking dagger from its sheath, a glamour acting as a camouflage to ensure no one even knew it was there. Once revealed, though, all eyes could look nowhere else.

“Oh dear God,” Miss Kinkaid whimpered.

But there wasn’t time to help them anymore because right then,

three exiles came crashing through the windows with the force of a freight train, showering almost all the glass and surrounding wood-work straight into the room and over everyone.

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Jessica shirvington

Exhibitionists!

I saw a few people hit by stray shards of glass, but nothing

major. Yet.

Three against one was bad. Three against one who also had

fifteen defenseless humans to protect was worse. A white- haired exile zeroed in on me immediately and started lunging in my direction. I had less than a second to react, knowing I couldn’t leave the other two free to get expressive with their own version of art—

maim and torture— with my classmates.

As the exile prepared to land, I dropped my dagger and rolled,

narrowly missing his fist and giving myself just enough time to grab the next exile, a strawberry- blond one this time, and hurl him like a bowling ball into the third one before Whitey was back on top of me. I paid for the move, my head pounding into the nearest desk, splitting the desktop in two.

Whitey threw me to the ground and straddled me before

proceeding to pummel fist after fist into my face, all within seconds.

I managed to wriggle enough to get a knee to his gut and scrambled back, jumping to my feet.

Two more figures came flying through the now glassless windows, landing gracefully behind the three exiles. They didn’t hesitate, just pulled their daggers and jumped into the fray. I breathed out a sigh of relief before landing a fist in the face of the exile moving in on me. My strike packed enough force to throw him into the wall,

giving me a chance to grab my dagger and draw upon the power

that welled in the base of my stomach. I called it up.

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My signature amethyst mist cloaked the room and I smiled as

it encircled me. The exiles all stopped moving, stilled by my power and unable to break the hold.

I could feel a trickle of warm blood slipping down the side of my face. That earlier head- pounding had caused some damage.

“Hey, guys,” I said to Beth and Archer, biting my lip.

My classmates started to scream or cry. I didn’t blame them.

The two Grigori simultaneously raised their eyebrows.

“This is the third time in five days, Violet.”