Empower (31 page)

My eyes locked with Lincoln’s and through them I felt his strength and support. As Grigori, we were partners. Despite what I tried to tell myself, that would never change.

I could feel what he wanted me to do, and I wanted it too. This was not the time to hide. I unclasped and removed my bracelets, revealing the markings that were already swirling like rivers of liquid silver. ‘My maker is one of the Sole.’

Leila dropped her fork. Ray stopped chewing, his mouth hanging open. Though I’d never admitted this to Gray, he wasn’t surprised. Lincoln held my eyes with warmth and something so much more that I had to quickly look away. Chloe looked in awe. And Carter … he spat his mouthful of gumbo all over us.

‘You’ve gotta be shitting me!’

I smiled slyly at him. ‘Now, now, Carter. Try to be respectful to your superiors.’

His shoulders dropped and his eyes narrowed. ‘Aw, hell, Gray. Tell me she ain’t that chick everyone’s been whispering about the past two years.’

‘She ain’t that chick everyone’s been whispering about the past two years,’ Gray deadpanned.

‘She’s the
chick, ain’t she?’ Carter replied.

‘Yeah. She’s the chick,’ Gray said, trying to repress his smile.

‘But you and her …’

Gray cut Carter a sharp look. ‘The only time I ever tried to touch her, she broke my nose and near took my arm off.’ He looked at Lincoln. ‘I swear it.’

Lincoln knew this too now, but that didn’t stop his jaw tightening, as if merely the thought of me being around Gray for the last year – even just as friends – was intolerable.

Carter looked at Gray, before holding up his hands, perplexed, and gesturing towards Lincoln and me. ‘And what are those two, then?’

‘Partners,’ Gray said. Then, obviously deciding that it was a tell-all kind of day, he added, ‘And soulmates.’

Carter fell as silent as the rest of the table for a few beats, his gaze settling on Lincoln curiously, but I had seen how Lincoln’s shoulders had relaxed, as though hearing the confirmation of our status had helped. Finally, Carter looked back to Gray. ‘Mate, I’d be guessing you’re lucky she didn’t break something a whole lot more important.’

Gray took a deep drink of his beer. ‘I’ve considered that.’

I rolled my eyes, while Lincoln now appeared quite pleased with the conversation. Thankfully things changed direction as Leila and Ray went on to tell us they believed that the exiles’ main base of operations was down by an old deserted power plant on the river’s edge. If they had Spence in the city, that was where he would most likely be by tomorrow night.

‘We’ll stake them out at first light,’ I said. ‘Just Sal, Zoe and us. Everyone else can move over to the military accommodation and start preparing for the incoming Grigori,’ I added, glancing at Gray.

Lincoln nodded, confirming
he was well aware of Gray’s Rogue activation. ‘Once we have the lay of the land tomorrow, I’ll put in a call to the Assembly to give them our green light.’

‘You might not get a message out,’ Ray advised.

I caught Gray’s eye, wondering if his text had made it, but his relaxed expression indicated he understood my concern but didn’t share it.

Lincoln shrugged, also unperturbed by Ray’s comment. ‘The navy has satellite equipment. We’ll be fine,’ he said.

We spent the rest of the meal outlining a strategy for the next day, and we even managed to have a few laughs.

Just as we got up to leave, Carter had a rare light-bulb moment, grabbing Gray’s shoulder. ‘That’s why you call her princess, isn’t it?’

Gray smiled mysteriously. ‘One of the reasons.’

When we were back out on the street, Lincoln said something quietly to Gray, who nodded and then addressed the others. ‘Let’s get back to the safe house so the others can find something to eat.’ His eyes met mine. ‘First light, princess.’

I rolled my eyes.

‘Must everyone have a nickname for you?’ Lincoln asked, a small smile playing on his lips as the others started to walk away. I took a step in their direction and returned his smile.

‘It must be
because I’m so warm and fuzzy,’ I said.

Lincoln laughed and grabbed my hand, pulling me in the opposite direction.

‘Where are we going?’

‘I told you I was going to show you some of the other reasons people come to New Orleans.’

Intrigued and petrified at the same time, I let him lead me down the busy road, dodging bodies, and then down a significantly quieter side street. ‘Is it why
you
came here?’

‘No, but it’s what I found.’

With that cryptic message worthy of my angel maker he opened a painted black door and pulled me down a narrow staircase, keeping hold of my hand the entire time. My world was suddenly submerged within the sounds of a slow drumbeat, a smooth piano and the overwhelmingly sensual tones of a saxophone.

I paused at the base of the stairs. ‘I … wow.’

‘Yeah.’ Lincoln squeezed my hand. ‘Wow.’

He pulled me into the dark bar, dominated by black furniture and red curtains, towards a small round table in the corner that had a small loveseat wrapped around it.

A waitress in a short black dress and dangling earrings was with us before we sat. ‘Can I get you two some drinks?’

‘I’ll have a beer,’ Lincoln said, looking to me.

‘Me too,’ I said. She nodded and asked to see my identification. I showed her my fake ID, which listed me as twenty-one.

Lincoln noticed it. ‘Evelyn?’

I nodded. ‘She has a lot of contacts. When we …’ The word
left
lodged in my throat. ‘She, um … she took me to one of her contacts and he’s been looking after me ever since.’ I didn’t elaborate, but I’m sure he’d worked out in the time he’d been trying to find me that I had more than a few aliases and passports. If I needed to, I could disappear quickly.

But do I need to?

Our drinks arrived and
we sipped slowly while we listened to the sounds of the band rebounding off the walls. I was in overdrive, so fixated on the man sitting next to me that I swear I could feel the rise and fall of his chest with his every breath. Hell, at one point I thought I could hear his heart beating. I really needed to get it together.

‘So, this is jazz?’ I asked. I’d never really heard it like this – live. No,
alive
.

Lincoln leaned close to my ear. ‘No, Vi.
This
is New Orleans.’

And then, forcing myself to ignore the warmth of his breath against my neck, I started to understand.

For all the bad that might be here, this city had a soul.

And with that realisation came the solidification of my role in this fight.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand by and watch another soul break.

We sat in silence for a while, and I watched the musicians do their thing. The trumpet player stood out in his black-rimmed glasses, faded brown shorts and loose T-shirt. He looked awkward beside his band members, who all wore crisp tuxedos, and yet he drew attention from the crowd. He was a trumpet geek and somehow that worked for him, made it real. He wasn’t performing. He was at home, doing all he’d ever known or wanted. I recognised the far-off look as something I might once have had when I held a paintbrush. I hadn’t painted since I’d left home.

I envied him.

He was so content, as
if through his music it all made sense. It was thrilling to see. And devastating.

My throat tightened, the air surrounding me becoming too thick to breathe.

Lincoln was suddenly standing, pulling me to my feet so I was close to his body. I could feel the heat coming off him, my body zapping it up hungrily.

‘Enough?’ he murmured, and even over the sounds of the band his voice was clear.

I licked my lips as I looked up at him. His eyes held mine and I was shocked by the realisation that his reflected no fear.

‘Linc?’ I whispered.

He let out a sigh. ‘Vi,’ he said softly.

I was lost in his eyes. Engulfed in sun-warmed honey.

‘Do you still dread me?’

His left hand encircled my waist and I knew I should be moving away, but I didn’t, not even when his other hand moved up to cup my face. All I could do was watch him as he said, ‘I stopped trying to deny this love a long time ago.’ If possible his eyes became even more intense. ‘I’m not afraid of us being together any more. Not one bit. Violet, I … I breathe you. I live you. I love you.’

I swallowed, locked in his gaze.

He moved closer, so his lips were just millimetres away from touching mine. ‘The only thing I dread is another moment of my life without you as mine, the way I’m forever yours.’

Spellbound, I waited for
his lips to collide with mine, to take what I knew he wanted, but he held so still. So close. And yet I realised quickly that he might have done all the work to get this far but he wasn’t going to close the last distance.

That was my bridge to cross.

My heart hammered so loudly I was sure the entire bar could feel the pulse.

Lincoln breathed heavily, his breath grazing my lips. But he stood his ground.

Desperate to find some kind of control and stop my runaway mind, and body, I blurted what I’d been wondering earlier. ‘Why don’t
you
have a nickname for me?’

Lincoln smiled, his hand tightening around my waist. And when he spoke his voice sounded raw and not like anything I’d ever heard from him. ‘Oh, but I do, baby. I just wasn’t sure you were ready to hear them.’

Them.

Oh.

Lincoln won. I closed the distance. A voice in the back of my mind whispered that I was going to regret it, even as my blood ran hot. My body fitted to his as he made a sound and pulled me closer. Memories of everything right with this world, of being alive, being human, flooded me as I flashed back to the night he’d held me in his arms – me as his, him as mine.

How could something so right be wrong?

I love you, too. I. Love. You. So. Damn. Much.

Enough to let him go?

Enough to deny myself?

Enough to walk away?

I gasped, pulling back
and throwing up my reluctant emotional walls. Lincoln released me as if he’d known it was coming. He didn’t argue or try to touch me again. Instead he reached into his pocket, threw a few bills on the table and gave himself a small nod before looking into what had to have been my ghost-white face. ‘Let’s get you back,’ he said gently.

But I just don’t know if there is any way back from here.

‘In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present.’

Francis Bacon

I
struggled with my
thoughts and emotions as I tried to regain some measure of control. The late-night streets of New Orleans were in full swing and the life of the city bled into me. We brushed past such a mix of people, and many of my initial thoughts of horror were dampened by the sights and sounds of laughter, by people coming together both young and old, by the diversity of races. This city was unique not just because of its French–Spanish–American origins but also the adversity its people had been forced to face.

As we wandered, Lincoln allowed me to put a little distance between us again and calmed my runaway mind by explaining some of the history. How when the French owned the land the Roman Catholic Church, keen for converts, had insisted on baptising many of the slaves and teaching them the ways of Catholicism. But the slaves were not so easily convinced and took their true religion of Voudon underground, eventually driving out the French and the Catholics. But it was the combination of these two religions that really birthed what Voodoo is today.

Lincoln led me through
the streets of the French Quarter until we came to a huge church in the central square. I pointed to the building next to it, where there was – oddly – a large speedboat wedged into the front porch.

‘Hurricane Katrina,’ he said. ‘The waters came up so high they brought in all kinds of things. The people left that one as a memorial.’