Embrace, Entice, Emblaze (89 page)

need to check the wound,” Magda said.

Salvatore glanced at me. I didn’t know what he was asking.

“Let her look, Sal,” Zoe said calmly. It was the first time I’d heard her call him Sal. He nodded and removed his arm.

Magda felt behind Spence’s head and then checked his pulse.

She looked up at me and then beyond. Lincoln had joined us.

“How is he?” he said to me. I shrugged.

“He’s dying,” Magda said quietly. “He has a punctured lung and

the head wounds are severe. I’d guess he’s bleeding internally. If we move him, it won’t work and…we can’t get anyone in here to him.” This was my fault. I’d let him come along, hidden him in

my room, let him get dragged into all my dramas. He wouldn’t

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have even been there in the first place if I hadn’t refused to go to the Academy.

Zoe was crying. Actually, she was snotting up a storm.

I inched closer to Spence, then instinctively put a hand on either side of his face. There had to be some good in all this power. I had to be able to do more than just kill.

“Not you. Not today,” I told us both.

I closed my eyes and ignored whoever it was who tried to pull

me back. I was super strong. If I wanted to stay here, I would stay.

I found my center and focused on Spence. On my friend who had

teased me, gotten me drunk, and had no ulterior motive. I dug into my power and then beyond and forced my will upon him.

“Live, Spence,” I whispered. My left wrist tingled with power

and my right one burned with pain but I kept going, pushing my

influence into him. Commanding it.

Little by little, it seeped through my hands and into his wounds.

The healing began.

It wasn’t like healing Lincoln; it wasn’t as simple or pleasant. I pushed through my own faded strength and demanded more of

myself. Spence groaned.

Someone said, “It’s working.”

I pushed harder. It almost felt as if my hands were inside his

head pushing it back together. Spence’s eyes shot open, bloodshot and looking like they were bursting under pressure. He screamed and screamed…and screamed. I opened my eyes and held his stare.

“Hold on,” I told us both. But the pain was immense and he

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Jessica shirvington

grabbed for my hands, pulling them, crushing them. I felt my

fingers, maybe three or four, snap and break. Lincoln was on top of Spence in an instant, holding him down as he screamed, restraining his hands while I kept going with my healing.

Eventually, the screaming stopped. He was wounded still, a gash on the side of his head, but it was closed. Internally, he’d been righted. I began to sink down and Lincoln leapt off Spence in

time to catch me. He held me from behind. His arms wrapped

around me, his hands closing over mine, healing the breaks. I felt his mouth on the top of my head, buried in my hair. It hurt more than anything had ever hurt before.

It’s over. It’s all over.

“Thanks, Eden,” said Spence, as Zoe helped him sit up against

the wall. “I owe you one.”

I gave a small smile, happy he was alive but all too aware that on the other side of the room was a problem I couldn’t fix.

“Lincoln,” Magda said, coming up beside us as we stood. “Are

you…okay?”

“What were you thinking, Magda?” he snapped. “Everyone

knew Phoenix was off- limits. If you killed him, you would’ve

killed Violet!”

“I…He was already killing her. She was almost dead, Linc. You

were fighting; everything was happening so fast. I knew you’d want me to try and save her. I…I thought it was the only way. I thought if I took him down, they’d all leave and we could try and save her.” Tears fell from her eyes.

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Before Lincoln could respond, Azeem stood and a hollow silence

fell over all of us. Carrying Rudyard in his large arms, he walked back through the caves. Griffin followed, cradling Nyla, who was alive yet, at the same time, just as dead. I swallowed hard.

We all walked behind, Zoe and Salvatore helping Spence, who

was still a little shaky.

“What happened to the Scriptures?” Spence asked, as if any of

us really cared just then.

“Jude took off with one early in the piece,” Lincoln said. “That was the last I saw.”

“Phoenix snatched the other one on his way out,” Zoe said.

“Great. So it was all for nothing,” I said, feeling sour as we

followed the others out like a bloody funeral procession. We left the box in the middle of the room. Somehow, we either weren’t willing to take it— given the price that had been paid— or we figured it wasn’t meant for us. I just didn’t care.

“Not for Phoenix. He got what he came for,” Spence said.

“Not everything he came for,” Lincoln said, looking at me.

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chapter
thirty- two

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the
hour of separation.”

KhaLIL GIBRaN

I sat in one of the military vehicles inside the plane we had arrived on. Spence was beside me in the driver’s seat; Zoe and Salvatore were in the back. Zoe had cried herself to sleep.

Th is time when we had boarded the plane, the army guys were

diff erent. Th ere were a number of them onboard but they left us alone, not interested in getting us to take our designated seats, buckle up. We had casualties. I guess camaraderie comes from death.

Lincoln and Magda were pacing around the front of the plane.

None of us was willing to go down to the back end— where

Rudyard’s body was closed up in a military transport coffi n. And going upstairs wasn’t an option.

Long stretches of silence made it worse. Even the noise of the

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scream or something, but there was never a sound. Griffin had been up there with her for hours, but Nyla was catatonic. Completely and utterly broken.

Lincoln couldn’t even look at me. Not that I knew for sure— I

couldn’t look at him either.

It’s all such a foggy haze now. After getting down from the

mountain, Azeem had called in reinforcements. Four of his Grigori had been badly injured but, surprisingly, all were still alive. A cleanup crew arrived and set about covering everything up so come morning, the tourists wouldn’t know.

My eyes stung with tears again. I blinked them back and concen-

trated on chipping away at the already cracked plastic paneling with my bloodied and dirty fingernails. My fingers still hurt where Spence had crushed them. I pressed harder and focused on the

relief of physical pain.

Spence was staring out the front windshield, deep in thought.

Almost dying tends to humble a person.

We saw feet coming down the stairs and all sat up a little, the sounds of fabric shifting and the car creaking seemingly amplified.

Lincoln went over to meet Griffin. I noticed Magda didn’t join

him. She was lost in thought. Perhaps it was grief— she’d known Nyla and Rudyard for as long as Griffin had.

The windows were wound down so we could hear. When we

saw Griffin’s face, we all slumped. He looked…how someone does

when they know there is no hope. He glanced at us, sitting in the stupid truck. Useless.

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Spence and Salvatore got out, needing to do something. I stayed where I was. I couldn’t…It was selfish. Awfully selfish, but I couldn’t stand beside Lincoln and be told what I knew Griffin was going to say. Hell, I’d felt it back in the cave.

“Her soul is shattered. She’s alive.” He shook his head and

coughed out a small cry. “Trapped inside her own…I can’t reach

her. No one ever will.”

I looked out the window in the opposite direction. I couldn’t

watch and I wished I couldn’t hear.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Breathe. Concentrate. Breathe. One, two,
three. Remember how this goes, remember you can do this. When everything falls apart, when everything is strangled and taken from you and
nothing is left, not even the tiniest glimmer—

I ran my hands over my face, pulled back my hair, and swal-

lowed through the lump in my throat that I knew was there to stay.

Remember
the
rules. Don’t back down. Don’t run. Don’t quit. And
now, remember the new rule: Don’t dream silly dreams.

At some point, Spence and Salvatore got back in the truck.

Lincoln went upstairs to try and help Griffin. I think in the end, he may have found it less torturous to be up in Nyla’s hell than down with me.

Magda stayed away from us, which was at least a small

blessing. Silence dragged on and on. Someone passed me a bottle of water. I hugged it until fatigue finally overtook the numbness and I fell asleep.

————

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My
paintbrush
glided
over
the
canvas, the color flowing and changing
without me even trying— an effortless spiral of illuminating color.

I
forced
my
hand
to
stop. The painting before me started to bleed
tears of gray.

I
dropped
the
brush
and
looked
over
to
the
window, where I knew he
would be looking out. He was the same— tall, handsome, overly strong
jaw, and distant. Inhuman. More interested in the outside world than
being confined to my art studio. But it was my dream, so I guess that
meant the territory belonged to me.

“Are you my Angel parent?” I asked.

He
nodded
once.

“Who are you?” I pressed, going through the motions. He had
told me to call him Lochmet— warrior— but I knew that wasn’t
his real name.

“That is not important.”

“Are you one of the Sole?”

“Yes.”

His
answer
threw
me. I hadn’t expected anything so direct.

“Can you tell me who you are?”

“First, you must know who you are, and you must see what is right
in front of you.”

He
watched
something
through
the
window
and
it
was
surreal
to
see
that
what
he
was
gazing
upon
was
not
the
true
view
from
my
city
apartment. Though it was raining like it usually did in my dreams, he
was looking over an open field with a tall forest in the distance. Perhaps
this wasn’t only my dream.

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“Is this about Jude? Did you know him?”

“He was my dearest friend for a time.”

“Why did he exile?”

“For balance. Sometimes, the things that are required of us are beyond
our comprehension, and even when we have fulfilled our destiny…it
can be hard to recognize if we have done so with a clear conscience.”

“I don’t understand.”

He
sighed, for the first time showing emotion. It was sadness or even…a
type of acceptance. “Humanity requires simplicity. A villain in every story
appeals to the most basic human feeling: mistrust. There was a time when
direction was necessary, a certain form of proof for comfort. To achieve this,
we had to provide defeat in some, in others, triumph against all odds.”

“Why?” I asked, still struggling to see where this was going.

“Because the only human emotion more inherent than mistrust is
the need for victory.”