Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (88 page)

creature— not just handsome but with a loveliness I couldn’t describe.

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“It is better to be quick,” he said, and on his last word I saw the flash of silver that was my dagger as he sliced my wrist open and, I was sure, hit every major vein. But that wasn’t all he hit. I saw instantly the blood pour from the markings around my wrist, causing the power within them to generate and swirl like mercury.

Then, the pain hit and I suppressed a scream and bit down hard.

But I was too slow to stop my other hand that flew rigidly into the air, searching for something to hold on to.

Phoenix grabbed it and squeezed hard. He held me still and I

let him. He gripped tighter and tighter until it hurt and it was all I could feel, and— for just a moment, I was sure— he was helping me, distracting me. As if…he cared.

Blood flowed from my right wrist.

When I heard Rudyard gasp and someone else, Azeem, I think,

whisper, “Dear God in heaven,” I pulled my eyes away from

Phoenix and looked to my wrist.

The blood that flowed was glistening with tiny sparkles of

silver. Part of whatever marked my wrists was also flowing into the chalice, which was now almost full, and its contents started to swirl in the cup. When it was close to the brim, Phoenix’s hold on me softened. I glanced at him and swore I saw a look of concern. He knew I had caught it, and in response, he straightened and reached out, moving my bleeding arm away from the chalice roughly. He

ran his hand over the wound, smearing the blood up my arm, as he looked at Lincoln.

“You know she feels it,” he said, taking in a deep breath. “It’s 386

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almost too easy.” He looked back at me as I yanked my arms away from him. “What? You don’t want me to heal that for you?” He

smiled his empty smile, pushing all the buttons he intended.

“Step back,” Jude said. I didn’t need telling twice and Phoenix didn’t seem to either. We both leapt back to our opposite sides of the room while Jude stood at the top.

I resumed my position beside Lincoln. He didn’t look at me; he

just grabbed my bleeding arm and started trying to heal it.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Just stop the bleeding.”

He nodded, pretending to concentrate on my arm. It was fair

enough. He wasn’t the only one who needed a moment.

The blood in the chalice continued to swirl. I was starting to

think nothing else was going to happen when the cup itself stated to…dissolve.

We watched with wide eyes, everyone except Jude, who’d reposi-

tioned his cloak and hood. The chalice disappeared, along with the long wooden stem it had rested upon. At first I thought the blood was actually reacting with it, like acid, eating away at the wood. But as I watched the blood swirling, now suspended in midair above us, I realized this was just another level of imagination.

The ground beneath where the chalice had been started to

distort and then, in the blink of an eye, the liquid suspended over-head dropped and splashed onto the floor, seeping into the sand so it looked like the earth was oozing blood.

Slowly, the red sand bubbled up to form a large box. It hovered a few inches above ground level, unsupported, until suddenly it 387

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dropped back to the ground with a whooshing sound. There was

no trace of blood, and left in its place was a wooden box with two gold birds— no, not birds, angels— wings outstretched, on top.

For a moment, it was ablaze with fire and light, but then, just as quickly, it wasn’t.

Azeem dropped to his knees again. Salvatore grabbed the small

cross around his neck and many of the exiles took a step back.

The box sprung open from a middle seam, the two golden angels

dropped to the side, and there, lying within the box, were two

tightly rolled parchments, bound in a silver ring imprinted with the same intricate feathered design as the Grigori boxes and wristbands.

That was all I had time to see, that and hear someone else scream,

“The Scriptures!”

But I didn’t know who it was and there was nothing I could do

about it anyway.

I was dying.

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chapter
thirty- one

“For their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed blood.”
pRoVeRBs 1:16

Blood poured relentlessly from the wounds that Onyx once gave

me and that Phoenix now owned. He stood above me as I fought

for my life. Battle surrounded us but Phoenix was uninterested. He remained focused, watching the wound, not looking at my face.

Everyone was fi ghting. It was déjà vu— just like that night at Hades— only this time, I wasn’t strong enough to do anything. I was instantly at the worst point of the injury. I had a few minutes at best. He had planned it perfectly.

Lincoln was fi ghting two, maybe three, of them. He was so

focused, landing lethal blow after blow as he positioned himself between the oncoming exiles and me. Protector to the end.

Th e exiles attacked him from all sides. Overcoming them

seemed an impossible feat, and yet he was magnifi cent, superior in speed and strength; it was as if he could anticipate their every Entice.indd 389

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move. I couldn’t help but be frightened for him when I saw a series of strikes to his face, but he didn’t slow. He would not fall.

He took out the exile to his right. When his dagger plunged

into his heart— it was the stoic exile who had spoken earlier— it cleared his view to me. Our eyes locked just long enough for me to see the terror register in his as he realized what was happening and for him to scream at me, “Hold on!” before he was fending off a frontal attack.

My entire body burned with pain, organs fighting for survival

but on the brink of letting me go. I saw random overflows of power that meant exiles were being returned. I saw the flash of a large weapon flying through the air— it could only have been Azeem’s

machete. Sounds of flesh hitting and slamming into flesh filled the room, screams of pain and vengeance equally shrill.

When I saw Gressil approach, and the look in his eyes, I found

I could still tense.

He’ll kill me easily, quickly.

But Phoenix had other ideas. Just as Gressil came near enough

to strike, Phoenix took a step closer to me and released an indisputable growl. I was his. Much to his chagrin, Gressil backed away, just in time to collide with Azeem.

I looked up at Phoenix. I think he loved me once.

Is
this
all
that
comes
of
love? Is this because I couldn’t love him back?

He was concentrating intently on the battle. He was trying to

look relaxed, as if everything was going to plan, but he was playing with the cuff of his shirt. He did that when he was worried. His 390

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eyes darted up and fixed on mine, and in that instant, I could see his regret and I realized the worry was for me.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I whispered.

He looked around the room and then back at me, a hint of alarm

breaking through his otherwise calm exterior. The battle was taking longer than he’d planned. Just then, the strangest thing happened.

He gave me his emotion. For just the blink of an eye— a blink of mercy— I
felt
his need. My scream filled the room with a sound of pain I didn’t believe possible. I looked to him again, and somehow knew we shared this reality of terrible choice, vengeful motivation, and all things lost— most of all, friendship and love.

The rest happened so quickly.

I saw Magda behind him—she was lunging away from the exile

she had just returned, dagger in hand, determination plastered all over her face. Phoenix didn’t turn from me, but his eyes grew wide as if instinctively he knew.

The wounds within me started to close.

I gasped as I saw her leap into the air, dagger raised and pointed toward Phoenix’s heart. In a blur from the left, something collided with Magda’s dagger.

Lincoln.

He’d leapt in front of her, taking the impact in his shoulder. He fell hard to the ground.

No!

Screams sounded from the other side of the room. There was

an explosion of rainbow mist, from more than one direction, then 391

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a cracking sound reverberated followed by what could only be

described as white light.

“Out!” Phoenix yelled. His remaining exiles disappeared with

super speed and he followed, leaving a trail of lightly falling desert dust in his wake.

Lincoln was crawling to my side. “Violet, Violet.”

He dropped beside me, Magda’s dagger still embedded in his

right shoulder. He pulled it out and dropped it, cringing with pain.

His blood mingled with mine in the pool I was lying in.

I was already healing now that Phoenix had gone. In fact, I was almost certain I’d started healing before he’d even left. Lincoln heaved himself onto his elbow and leaned over me. I could tell he was hurting but also knew he would be okay. He pulled my top up to reveal the final stage of the wound healing. A small sound, a cry of relief, fell from his mouth. When we took in the sight of each other, we both exhaled.

“Thank God,” he said, putting a hand on me, which I grabbed

tightly. I didn’t tell him that despite everyone’s hails, I was pretty sure God wasn’t in this room with us.

I pushed myself up to sit and that was when the impact of what

had just happened hit me.

Lincoln was beside me, Magda standing nearby— in shock or

something. Zoe and Salvatore were kneeling over something—

someone. In the other corner of the room, Griffin was barely

restraining Nyla while Azeem knelt over…

Oh
no!

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He was kneeling over Rudyard, and if I hadn’t known instantly

from the painful wash of the senses that leeched wickedly into my body— the aftermath of exile vengeance— the deathly wail that

came from Nyla that moment could leave no doubt.

A scream that held more than life and death, for it also held her soul, as everything she was departed this world with the one she was bonded to forever.

When
one
soul
mirrors
another…what would it do if it had nothing
to reflect?

Silence followed her cry. It was the last sound that would be heard from her. She crumpled to the ground, nothing but living flesh held together only by Griffin’s arms. My eyes, running with tears, found Lincoln’s, and they shared the very same sorrow and deep grief.

I knelt and put my hands on Lincoln’s shoulder.

Focus
on
what
you
can
do, Vi.

I healed his wounds, knowing my power well enough now that

I no longer needed to harness it through a kiss. Lincoln recovered quickly and ran to kneel beside Azeem, while I scrambled on my

hands and knees, weak from so much blood loss, to where Zoe and Salvatore were kneeling over who I now knew had to be Spence.

Blood almost covered my entire body. By the time I reached

Spence, the desert dust coated my arms and legs, while my wrist throbbed badly where the gash, although no longer bleeding, was still fresh.

“Jesus,” said Zoe as she made room for me. “How the hell are

you still alive?”

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It was a damn fine question. I ignored it.

Spence was unconscious and bleeding from the head.

“What happened?” My hands shook as they hovered over him,

afraid to touch and make things worse.

“Too many, too vicious,” Salvatore said. “He was gladiator, but Rudyard fell to the Gressil and so Nyla fell. This made too many.” Zoe was shaking her head in disbelief and shock. “We couldn’t

get to him. I saw him being thrown against the wall. They were

crowding to finish him off. Azeem took out one, and then Phoenix called them off. Guess he had what he wanted.”

Spence was barely breathing. Magda came over and crouched

beside him. She silently moved her hands through his hair, but

Salvatore grabbed her arm.

She spun to look at him, but he held her stare and her arm. “I