Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (31 page)

a slight change in the fabric of your true nature, it was prevented from causing irreparable damage.”

His expression didn’t change or give away any more informa-

tion. If anything, his eyes seemed less and less focused.

“Someone interfered,” I said, mimicking the words Lincoln had

used when I first told him about the teacher who had crossed the school for no reason and saved me from the attack. Everything

started making sense. “Who was it?” I asked.

“Your angel maker, who appears to be willing to break our laws

for you.” His lips twitched ever so slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was 259

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approval or disapproval. “Your essence lies in you like the seeds of a forest. Not one, but many.”

Over the years, school had taught me the value of a blank face.

The one that says
, If it’s easier for you, I won’t ask, but in truth, I have
no idea what you just said.

“Is that good?” I asked, wiping the beads of sweat trickling down the side of my face.

“Your will is strong— so strong, in fact, it appears to have the power to overcome the will of others. Whether that is good or…other? That is up to you.”

Brilliant.

“Answers in riddle? A bit clichéd, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps, but riddle is all we have. If comprehension lay at your feet, there would be no need to walk in search of it.” He was silent for a time. He looked vacant, like he wasn’t really there. Then, as if someone had turned a light back on, he focused on me again.

“You have given your heart to one and your flesh to another.”

I blushed and looked down at my feet.

“Let us hope the truth will release you,” he said.

“More cryptic stuff?” I said defensively. I don’t know what I’d been expecting. I mean, I wasn’t naïve enough to have thought I’d see halos and magic tricks, but I hadn’t counted on evasiveness either.

He held his hand out again. “May I see the amulet?”

A tingle of fear ran down my chest. “You had me bring it?” Even as I asked, I knew the answer. I took the necklace out and placed it in his open palm. “It was my mother’s. Was she a Grigori?” I 260

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wished now that I’d pushed Dad for more specifics about her past.

All he had told me about her family was that both of her parents passed away when she was very young and that she had been raised by an aunt she didn’t like.

“I will not answer that. However, I can tell you that this amulet was never hers and always yours. There is a reason this message rests on the back of it.” He raised his eyebrows a fraction. “You may wish to consult some of your histories if you want to know more.”

“Why don’t you just tell me?” I asked, relaxing my stance further and putting a hand up to try to block the sun’s glare. I was now sure he had no intention of coming closer than was necessary. He actually appeared repelled by me. It was a good thing too. If it had come to a fight, I would have been in trouble.

“My knowledge is not meant for you, only my guidance.”

He didn’t speak for a time. Then he gave a small nod. “You

have many virtues and you will need them all. Your essence will be embraced.”

He made it all seem so simple, but I knew it was anything but.

“So…how do we do this?” Visions of being struck by lightning

bolts came to mind.

This time, his mouth actually curled into the smallest of smiles.

“A journey. You will find your powers within you on your return.

Use them carefully, for they are plenty, and know that even the greatest bringers of justice will only find salvation in surrender.” I showed him a blank face. He started to turn.

“Wait!” I yelled. “What rank does my angel maker come from?”

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Confusion tainted his perfect features. His hands twitched ever so slightly. “I…do not know.”

He began to walk away.

“Do I follow you?” I called.

“Not today. You have somewhere else to be. You seek water and

must allow yourself to find it.”

He was gone.

I was alone, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by millions

of tons of sand and dust. My only company was a searing thirst.

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chapter
twenty- six

“One half of knowing what you want is knowing what you must
give up before you get it.”

sidney howard

Th e obvious questions came to mind fi rst.
Where am I? How long
have I been here? Will I die out here?
And then the ones a little further back started to seep in.
Will anyone truly miss me? Will I
resolve things with Lincoln before one of us dies? Is this the angel of
light’s doing or an angel of dark’s?

Th e questions kept coming as I staggered through the never-

ending desert. Th e sand was deep and soft, and the scenery was unchanging. Even after walking for hours, I felt like I was still standing in the same spot.

Th e questions that drifted into my mind simplifi ed.
Where
did I leave the water bottle? Can anyone see my water bottle? Is
that
…
blood?

Th e last one snapped me out of my delirium enough to allow

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me to put a hand to my mouth and feel the wetness running

from my nose, mingling with the grains of sand stuck to my face.

Dehydration and fatigue were taking over. I let some of the blood trickle into my mouth to wet my tongue, so desperate was I to

escape the dryness. My body retched in penalty. Maybe that’s what all of this was: punishment.

I went to check my phone again, even though I knew there

would be nothing on the screen, that the battery was dead. When I pulled my hand out of my pocket, a piece of paper floated to the ground. I bent to pick it up and fell to my knees. I didn’t try to get back up.

It was the poem my mother had left for me. I looked at it, trying to see the words through my blurred vision. I managed the first four lines.

You
must
love
no- thingness,

You
must
flee
something,

You
must
remain
alone,

And
go
to
nobody.

I sat, blinking my eyes, trying to keep a little moisture in them.

I
had
turned toward this path to emptiness, nothingness; I
had
fled from myself and those who loved me; and I remained
completely
alone. I thought back to how I hadn’t been able to confide in

Steph or Dad. Something clicked. I blinked again and refocused

on the poem.

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You
must
be
very
active

And
free
of
all
things.

You
must
deliver
the
captives
And
force
those
who
are
free.

If taken in the literal sense, I’d been active as all hell, delivering
myself
as a captive to my will. Maybe forcing those who are free meant the task of returning exiles for judgment and protecting

free will. I tried to swallow but my mouth was too dry.
Is
this
why
my
mother
left
me
the
poem? Was it to help me find a way
out? Please, please, please!
Every hot breath I inhaled scorched my throat, roasting it from the inside out. I could hardly make out the next lines.

You
must
comfort
the
sick

And
yet
have
nothing
yourself
Lincoln’s injuries and leaping to certain death pretty much

covered that.

You
must
drink
the
water
of
suffering
And
light
the
fire
of
Love
with
the
wood
of
the
virtues.

Thus
you
live
in
the
true
desert.

I understood enough to know that it didn’t matter what drink

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had it. Right now, I didn’t know if I
was
in the true desert. And love and virtues seemed far away.

Staggering back onto my feet, it was obvious the rest had not

helped. I stumbled, tripping to my knees every few steps. I was coming to the end.

I lifted my head and looked before me to the expanse of noth-

ingness and resolved that no matter what my life had in store for me, I would rather
that
than this.

From within the mirrors of sand emerged a lion, magnificent

and wild. He padded lightly across the sand, leaving a small gust of wind in his wake. This was not a good sign. I was hallucinating.

I watched in fascination as my lion quietly paced out a wide

circle. When he reached the place it had begun, he padded into

its center, stopped, and turned to face me. Golden fire roared in his glistening eyes as they remained fixed on mine. I wondered if I should be afraid, but then remembered it was a hallucination. So I stood and stared back into the vivid eyes of my lion, for I knew he was
my
lion in every way, an extension of myself.

The lion watched me for what seemed like forever, studying me

with the kind of interest a lion does not normally show. I stared back, transfixed, and observed as his tail began to sway again, bringing with it a breeze that floated across my face.

It was like a breeze of life. I closed my eyes and took a breath, trying to draw in every last bit. When I opened my eyes, a living wind surrounded the lion like a tornado, whirling around him,

lifting the sand higher and higher until I could no longer see him.

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Unable to hold myself up, I dropped to my knees and slid down

until I was lying on my back.

A blanket of new dust covered the area, covered me. I thought

of Lincoln, heard the faint
da- dum da- dum da- dum
of a straining heart,
his
heart. I clambered wearily back to my knees and tried, but failed, to stand. I remained kneeling as sand rained down on me.

Finally, I forced my feet to work, to hold my weight. I pushed

myself forward. One step, two steps. I walked right into the tornado to meet my lion, and I knew then that my virtue was never letting weakness rule me. Sand whipped across my face. I screamed— not

for the burning pain, but for the icy knowledge that my virtue was also my vice. I wouldn’t give up on him.

It was calm in the center and the lion was nowhere in sight. I

marveled as I tried to comprehend what I was looking at. I was

standing before a pool of water. I fell to my knees and reached for it, fearing that this too was a hallucination, a cruel mirage. Cool water claimed my hands, and when I scooped them toward my

mouth, the water came with me. I would have cried in delight if I hadn’t been so busy drinking between coughs.

The third time I put my hands into the water, it wrapped around my wrists and pulled me under like quicksand.

There was nothing I could do but hold my breath as I plum-

meted into the pool and beyond. It seemed hasty to accept the

inevitable demise. I suspected death would be the easier outcome, and therefore was nowhere in sight.

Dozens of reflections surrounded me, manifestations of…me.

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