Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (103 page)

Lincoln, Griffin, and Spence— himself again— standing together, stunned as they too watched what Phoenix was doing.

“Jesus, he knows it’s fake,” I said to myself, now standing up, getting ready.

My phone rang. “Move!” was all Lincoln bothered with before

he hung up.

I didn’t need telling twice. I made for the stairwell and then

75

Emblaze.indd 75

1/4/13 4:14 PM

Jessica shirvington

straight to the waiting elevator with the crate holding the door open. We’d planned for escape. Hell, we’d counted on it.

If Phoenix had known all along we were going to give him a fake Scripture, there was no way the one he’d given us was real. But why bother? Why set this whole thing up? Why follow through with it, do the whole cable act? All he’d managed to do was waste a couple hours of everyone’s time and…
Oh
.

Oh! No…NO!

The elevator ride was torturously slow as I bounced up and

down, only stopping when the back of my head banged against

the mirror, cracking the glass. By the time I reached the bottom and flung myself out the fire exit, I was running faster than I’d ever run before.

A
lot
can
happen
in
a
couple
of
hours. We were all there.

I ran through the city streets, pushing past people, not slowing to be polite. A horrible twisting feeling raked its way through my insides. Four blocks on, I saw Lincoln sprinting toward me, Griffin and Spence following close behind. I felt like I was going to throw up. Lincoln slowed when he saw me, looking relieved. It just made me move faster. All the time we had spent on this stupid exchange and on keeping
me
safe— we were so stupid!

I kept going, running so fast it hurt but trying desperately

to move faster. Lincoln must’ve realized because he was back at full speed within a second. I took the next turn, heading straight toward Hades. Dapper had repainted the entry door again. It was now fluorescent yellow, standing out like a beacon.

76

Emblaze.indd 76

1/4/13 4:14 PM

Emblaze

Lincoln was behind me. I heard him yell my name, but I didn’t

wait. I kept my eyes on the entrance and the bouncer who watched me approach. I yelled at him, “Door!” without slowing down. He

swung it open just in time and I ran through.

Hades was heaving. It was after midnight on a Wednesday night

and the place was sardined. I took a direct line, pushing past people so hard that some fell over. The music was loud, and though I

could hear it, I was in some kind of trance, consumed by unfathomable thoughts so horrific they scraped through my mind like

sharp knives against brittle edges.

I threw myself into the unmarked door at the side of the bar and bolted up the stairs, taking two then three at a time.

Steph
should’ve called. She
would’ve
called.

I reached Dapper’s door, which was ajar. I heard Lincoln pound

through the door below. He was still yelling something at me, but I wasn’t listening.

I went in.

77

Emblaze.indd 77

1/4/13 4:14 PM

chapter
eight

“Since my people are crushed, I am crushed; I mourn, and horror
grips me.”

JereMIaH 8:21

When I was seven years old, Dad and I were driving home from

a weekend away. I remember being so excited when we’d fi rst set off , thinking Dad and I would have two whole days to hang out

and go to the beach. Th e drive there had been three of the happiest hours in my childhood. I spent the entire time daydreaming about all the things we would do— the exploring, chatting, laughing.

I really believed that weekend would change everything, certain that spending some real one- on- one time with Dad would make

him realize…

But it wasn’t like that.

It was me who realized.

We only went away so Dad could meet with some new clients.

As soon as we got there, I was dumped with the hotel nanny and a Emblaze.indd 78

1/4/13 4:14 PM

Emblaze

bucket and spade. I didn’t see him again until we were getting back in the car to go home.

I was devastated. Dad was oblivious. We were silent for the

first two hours of our drive back. I spent the whole time trying to build up the confidence to tell him what I really thought of his so- called weekend away. I was just about to open my mouth when it happened.

We’d been driving on the freeway. You move so fast on those

things, when something goes wrong, it’s bad.

I remember staring at him really hard, trying to make him look

back at me with the power of my seven- year- old glare when there was a loud bang, then another— like explosions. They were so

close, immediately urgent, immediately dangerous. Before I could see anything, we went straight into a station wagon. My whole

body jolted forward, the seat belt doing little to hold my slight frame in place. If Dad’s hand hadn’t been there to push me back, I would have flown right through the windshield. To this day, I don’t know how he got his hand there so fast.

Our hood crumpled like a piece of paper. Steam and smoke rose

from the car, melting into the heated air of that hot summer’s day, rippling reality.

Dad screamed at me. At first I thought I was in trouble, until

I realized he was just panicking. I nodded, frightened, and that seemed to settle him, the rigid tension in his expression easing slightly. Then we looked ahead.

We were not the main event. We’d barely caught the tail end.

79

Emblaze.indd 79

1/4/13 4:14 PM

Jessica shirvington

Three, maybe four cars were in front of us, all in varying degrees of a compressed state. And in front of them, a truck was visible and maybe another car. I wasn’t sure.

Dad got out and circled our car. I don’t know what he was

looking for, gasoline perhaps. Whatever he saw, he was satis-

fied enough to leave me there, ordering me not to move until he returned. I watched as he went to the station wagon we’d crashed into. The passengers were okay, I realized, because Dad didn’t stay for long at each car, moving on up the line.

I heard sirens in the distance, but when I looked behind me,

the traffic had been brought to a halt and it was clear it would be some time before an ambulance could make its way through the

new parking lot.

People were starting to move around me, running forward into

the disaster zone.

I found myself out of the car and caught up in the tide of people.

I could see Dad running ahead. He was the first to reach the truck.

I wondered if he had helped anyone out, but then I got closer and saw him through a gap in the cars.

He was bending over.

I hurried toward him, thinking he must be hurt. I hadn’t even

asked him if he was okay before he got out of the car.

I weaved my way between bystanders, dodging pieces of

wreckage, but when I burst into the open space where Dad was

standing, I abruptly froze.

He wasn’t helping anyone. He didn’t know how.

80

Emblaze.indd 80

1/4/13 4:14 PM

Emblaze

The truck had gone right over a small family car. It was

completely crushed. The truck driver was alive. Still sitting in the front seat. He didn’t look hurt at all. At least, not on the outside.

But I saw his face.

He looked right at me. Beneath him, there was no sign of life,

and when he looked at me— even though I was only a kid— I knew

he wished, desperately, that his fate had been the same.

It was his fault.

————

When Lincoln burst through the door behind me, I tore myself

from the memory and saw only the scene spread before me. Dapper, on the floor by the minibar, covered in blood, mutilated. His apartment had been torn apart, as if a herd of elephants had stampeded the place and then come back for a second run, just to be sure.

I stood barely a few steps inside. Frozen.

Lincoln came in behind me and gasped. I turned my eyes to him

and I knew the look I wore was the exact same one that truck driver had given me ten years ago.

It was my fault.

————

Lincoln didn’t hesitate. He took one look at the scene, one look at me, and, just as my father had ordered me to stay in the car, he ordered me to stay where I was. And I did, for a while.

Dead. Dead. They’re all dead. My fault. Phoenix knew. Knew me.

My fault.

I watched as Lincoln ran to help Dapper, feeling through all the 81

Emblaze.indd 81

1/4/13 4:14 PM

Jessica shirvington

blood and exposed flesh, looking for vitals. The only way I knew it was really Dapper was his diamond- studded belt— it was wrapped around his neck, embedded in the flesh.

Lincoln carefully but quickly unwrapped it.

That’s when I saw the thing that changed everything, something

that truck driver never had the chance to see.

Dapper’s fingers…moved.

“He’s alive,” I gasped. And that was all it took.

Maybe, just maybe. Oh, please, please, please.

I flung myself into action, bolting past Dapper and Lincoln,

knowing I couldn’t do anything to help there. I ran through the living area into the hallway, where I pulled up, almost falling over myself.

Onyx.

I crouched beside him. Like Lincoln had, I tried to ignore the

blood, the massive swelling over his face. His shirt had been ripped off and he’d been beaten so badly that some of his ribs had broken outward, one poking through his chest.

I swallowed down the urge to be sick and I tried to breathe

through my mouth. Now that I was more lucid, the senses were

pressing down on me, demanding I know.

Apple poured through my mouth, giving the illusion that it was

flooding my airways and that I couldn’t keep swallowing so much.

Regardless, it was better to breathe through my mouth— the scent of flowers was so overwhelming and had made the air so dense it was impossible to breathe through my nose effectively.

82

Emblaze.indd 82

1/4/13 4:14 PM

Emblaze

I didn’t know where to start. Onyx was alive; I knew that much.

He was breathing impossibly difficult, short, shallow breaths.

Not
nearly
enough
, was all I could think.
That’s not nearly
enough air.

Then I looked again at his ribs, puncturing the space where his lungs were.

I put my hands lightly on his chest. I didn’t know what was

better, keeping my eyes open or closed. It was practically impossible to concentrate over the blinding flashes of morning and

evening— so strong, switching between searing sunlight and the

darkest of moonless nights.

“Onyx,” I forced through my strangled throat.

His puffy eyes opened to bloodshot slits. His arm moved slightly and I grabbed his hand.

“H— he…”

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” I lied. Because looking at him, looking at what they’d done to him and Dapper, I didn’t think they’d be okay at all.

My eyes flitted away, farther down the hall.
The
bathroom
and
the
bedroom
to
go. I need to look.
But I couldn’t just leave him.

He gripped my hand a little tighter. I looked at him and then it occurred to me: Maybe he wanted this? He’d wanted someone to

kill him. End it. He’d asked me to do it myself when we’d found him drunk and on the streets. He never wanted to be only human.

Maybe this had all worked out for him.

He tried to speak again.

83

Emblaze.indd 83

1/4/13 4:14 PM

Jessica shirvington

I bent forward, trying not to touch anywhere that would hurt,

which was everywhere.

“H— elp me.”

I watched his swollen eyes, trying to force themselves open

properly, to show me the truth in his words. Onyx wanted to live.

My hand, still holding his, stirred. I put my other hand to his face gently. Then I let my power go, let it flow from me to him, wanting to heal him, to give him this chance at life. But I hit a brick wall, which almost made me black out.

I heard more people arrive, orders being shouted out. Griffin.

Spence came running into the hallway. “Jesus,” he said.

I stood up. “I can’t help him. I can’t heal him.” I shook my head.

“He wants to live,” I said. But my eyes were fixed on the end of the hall again, urgently.

Spence dropped down beside Onyx. “I’ll help him. Go!”