Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (37 page)

“Killed him?” he offered, looking up at me calmly.

“Yes,” I gulped.

“No. This was done by exiles. I’m sure if you concentrate, you’ll feel the energy they have left behind.”

I didn’t need to concentrate. I had already felt it, but I’d still had to ask.

I could hear the pain in Griffin’s voice at losing his friend. I gave him some space, returning to my crate halfway down the alley.

I was still sitting there, staring into midair, when more Grigori arrived. I recognized some of them from the last murder scene.

It was comforting in a way; their presence seemed to calm the

new power that was bubbling inside me. I assumed they were the

cleanup crew. A couple of them nodded at me as they walked by,

acknowledging me as one of their own.

Magda and Lincoln turned up at the same time. They had obvi-

ously come together, but that didn’t bother me as much as I would have expected— as if my jealousy were somehow censored. When I

thought about it, it actually seemed like when it came to Lincoln, 311

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all my feelings were suppressed now— except, of course, for anger.

I put it down to coping mechanisms, sweeping it under the carpet, where all things “Lincoln” went these days.

He stayed to talk to me while Magda threw out a half- assed

wave and kept walking toward Griffin.
Yep,
really
feeling
the
love
from
Magda.

“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” I said, even though my hands were still trembling.

“Was it really Angus?”

“That’s what Griffin said.”

Lincoln swore under his breath.

“Did you know him too?”

“Yeah, in fact, I was hoping to introduce you to him. He survived a lot of pretty terrible things. Who did this?”

“Onyx and Joel,” I blurted out.

His eyebrows rose. “Together?”

I nodded. “They sucked me into some warped nightmare and

when I came to, I was here. It had to have been them. They’re

completely and utterly psycho.”

“Well, at least you’re starting to understand what exiles are

really like.”

I didn’t miss the dig intended for Phoenix and immediately

felt defensive. I gave Lincoln my best I- couldn’t- care- less- what-you- think- and- I’m- pissed- at- you smile and stood up. “I haven’t slept all night. I’m going to grab a taxi. Tell Griffin I’ll see him in the morning.”

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“You’re just leaving?” He held his hands out in disbelief.

“Yep. I’m tired, Linc, and I don’t want to fight with you. I’m

going home to sleep. If Griffin needs me, he’ll call.” And then out of spite, I added, “Don’t worry, I’m sure Magda can hold your hand if you get lonely.”

I spun on my heels to make my getaway. Like a blessing, a

taxi pulled up almost immediately, giving even more impact to

my departure.

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chapter
thirty- one

“You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a
point of passion that unhinges my soul.”

JULie de Lespinasse

I dragged myself out of bed after only a couple hours of sleep. I was determined to get control of my life, tired of letting everyone push and pull at me. I was a Grigori now and I needed to know

what was going on. Especially since it appeared I had my own little renegade- angel fan club.

I called Griffi n and arranged for him to come to my place. He sounded like he hadn’t slept at all and slyly remarked on my disappearance, but his heart wasn’t in it. I think he was too tired to bother with a lecture. He knew we needed to talk.

While waiting for Griffi n, I put in a load of laundry and tidied up the apartment a little for the cleaners who were due later. I considered ringing Steph to start groveling, but then thought

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might be considered a hostile act. I didn’t want to risk burying myself any deeper.

When I came back into the kitchen, I saw I had a new text

message.

Griffin
asked
me
to
come
with
him. Hope that’s okay. Linc.

I looked at the clock on my phone; they were due any second.

I didn’t have time to prepare myself— emotionally
or
physically. I dropped my face into my hands and more or less laughed. Could

things get any crazier?

In that instant, the doorbell rang. I went to the door via the

mirror. I knew I wouldn’t have stopped if it were only Griffin

waiting on the other side.

Damn
it.

I paused, bracing myself to lay eyes on Lincoln. I knew that

no matter how angry I was at him, the sight of him would still

affect me. It always did. I opened the door and his green eyes

took me in, as I did him, and…nothing. Maybe I was finally

getting over him?

I fixed them coffee, only needing to check with Griffin how he

took his. I’d made a million cups of coffee for Lincoln and knew he liked a double espresso with just the smallest dash of milk, and if asked he would say one sugar, but really he preferred two.

Once I settled on the couch, I looked over to see Lincoln staring at me. He was baffled by something.

“Did you put any sugar in this?” He motioned to the coffee he

had just sipped.

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“No,” I said, equally baffled. I moved to stand up, but he stood himself, shaking his head at me.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it,” he said.

Griffin noticed the tension. “Look, if you two are going to behave like twelve- year- olds, this isn’t going to work. In case you haven’t noticed, we
are
dealing with a fairly large problem at the moment.” I looked at the floor guiltily.

“Sorry, Griff,” Lincoln said from behind me. “We’re fine, aren’t we, Violet?”

I didn’t miss the condescension in his tone.

“We’re great,” I said, turning around and narrowing my eyes.

I was tempted to add that he wouldn’t even be able to remember

how twelve- year- olds acted since he was so damn old, but

somehow I forced my hateful mouth shut. Instead, I turned back

to Griffin. “I’m sorry too.” It wasn’t often I felt like I had received a parental scolding. I was disappointed with myself for letting Griffin down.

We ran through the details of the previous night and I filled in the gaps. Lincoln listened in amazement. It didn’t bother me; it was just as unreal to me. Griffin listened intently and didn’t interrupt until I had relived the night completely.

“I think you’ve been tampered with,” Griffin said.

“Huh?”

“As a Grigori, your defenses should be stronger. Given what

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imagination. They’re using their powers to obscure you somehow,” Griffin explained.

“I don’t understand. I thought once I was a Grigori, my powers

would protect me. Are you telling me these psycho exiles will be able to invade my dreams whenever they want and send me out to

discover dead bodies?”

I felt like throwing something— or crying. It was too much

to contemplate. After everything I’d been through, it still wasn’t enough. Lincoln fidgeted in his seat then stilled. I thought for a second he was going to come to me. I thought for a second

that I wanted him to, but at the same time, I was relieved that he didn’t.

“I don’t know how, but it seems you have some kind of block

in your defenses. That’s why I brought Lincoln.” Griffin stood up.

“Can we move the furniture back?” he asked.

My brow furrowed. “Why?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw

Lincoln give a sly smile.

Griffin started pushing the couch back. “We need to test some

of your other abilities. Then we can see if there are any other problems. That means a little sparring. Given how volatile you seem to be at times, I thought it best to put Lincoln on the firing line since you can heal him so well.” Griffin was smiling too.

I stood up and started to push my chair back. “Fine by me,”

I said, trying but failing to conceal my delight at the thought of testing out my new powers, not to mention releasing some pent- up aggression toward Lincoln.

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Great, we were all smiling. I guess it was an improvement.

We cleared all the furniture to the walls, creating our own little thunderdome. Griffin gave us some general guidelines, which were basically that he wanted me to both give and take blows, testing my strength and durability.

Lincoln and I stood opposite each other, waiting. He smiled

and shrugged. “So hit me, Violet. Let’s see if you can finally pack a little punch.”

That was all it took. I drew strength from within and pummeled

my fist into his stomach and then across his face, knocking him back a few steps. There was a time when I would have been

mortified, but I felt nothing. I was strong and fast— but then, so was he.

He was back in position within moments; his speed was

amazing. He leveraged back and struck out with his foot, landing the impact squarely in my gut. I stumbled back, marveling that I didn’t fall over.

I caught Lincoln watching me cautiously. I knew that look.

“Stop being a pussy, Lincoln! We came here to test me out, so

test!” I yelled, not holding back on my growing hostility.

He rolled his eyes at me, but then stepped forward and struck

me across the face. He made contact on the first attempt, but I dodged the second, remembering defense was also important.

From there, it was game on.

We struck out at each other; I used every move he had ever

taught me and anything else I could throw at him. I was agile and 318

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barely had to think of a movement before my body obliged. It

was just too much fun. I couldn’t believe it, but with power and strength on my side, I thrived. It felt…natural.

After sustaining the blows Lincoln had delivered, I should have been on the way to the hospital. It was surreal, but I barely felt sore. No wonder nothing I’d ever done to Lincoln in our training sessions had caused any impact. We both hit hard, but I was still holding back— and if I was holding back, so was he.

I decided on a different strategy. Without warning, I stepped

back and laughed. He looked at me in confusion.

“What?” he demanded, a little breathless.

I spoke between bouts of laughter. “Nothing…I just thought

you’d be stronger.” I tried to sound unimpressed.

“We’re doing what we need to do for the purpose of today.” I

could hear the condescension in his voice. He thought I was being petty. I simply chuckled again.

“You wanted this, Linc! You wanted me to be strong,
be
a Grigori. What? You’re not worried you’ll hurt me, are you?” My

words held a multitude of digs.

He reacted as I’d hoped, shaking his head. “Fine, Violet,” he

said, resigned. “Let’s see how strong you really are.”

I didn’t stop to think,
couldn’t
stop. I threw all the force I had into one punch, directed at Lincoln’s chest. In it was all the hate and anger that I felt toward him.

In a move so fast I didn’t even see it, Lincoln caught my hand

in his, absorbing the impact and stopping it. My jaw dropped at 319

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the awesomeness of his power. His hand, which held mine with

surprising tenderness, let go.

Griffin stepped between us. “Enough. We have what we needed.

You’re strong, Violet, especially for a rookie. I’ve rarely seen another make Lincoln even break a sweat. Your problem isn’t in offense,” he said.

I stepped back, trying to process everything, mostly my own

attitude, my own hatred. I was starting to feel out of control, literally. The question was, if I wasn’t in control, who
was?

I looked over at Lincoln, who was behind the kitchen island

rinsing his face. Sensing me, he looked up. Our eyes locked and I glimpsed pain, just for a moment. Bruises were forming on the side of his face.