Endless (28 page)

‘What are you–’ I started. He cut me off, yanking me after him.

‘We have to go. Now!’ He kept moving but I shrugged a hand free, looking back at Dad. There was no way in hell I was leaving him.

Griffin dropped beside Dad and looked at me. ‘I’ve got him, Violet. You have my word. Do what Lincoln says! Run!
Now!
’

I don’t know if it
was the terror in his eyes or the force of his voice – whatever it was made me give in, letting Lincoln take my arm once more as we ran towards the exit and left Griffin and Dad behind. I tried to head for the door to the stairs, but Lincoln pulled me towards the lift, yanking the doors open.

But the lift wasn’t there – Lilith and Phoenix had just taken it to the ground floor. It would take too long to come back up. It was then that I heard the sounds of people coming down the stairs, yelling out orders.

Looking at Lincoln I saw the same fear in his eyes that I’d seen in Griffin’s. Whatever was going on wasn’t good.

Lincoln pulled off his belt. ‘Get on my back!’ he ordered.

I looked down the lift shaft at the multi-storey drop and baulked. A fire smouldered at the bottom.

‘They blew it up!’ I said. ‘We can’t go that way!’ But Lincoln wasn’t moving. I looked at him, wide-eyed. ‘Are you insane? We can’t jump!’

‘We don’t have a choice, Vi. Just stay on my back and protect yourself. You hear me? Protect yourself so you can heal me at the bottom. If we’re both hurt we’re no good.’

This can’t be happening.

I shook my head back and forth. ‘No, no, no! This is crazy!’

He grabbed me by the shoulders, the sounds of Grigori approaching getting closer. ‘We don’t have time. You have to trust me!’

His eyes held mine and in that split second so much passed between us, so much love and yes, trust.

Stupid, stupid trust.

I gripped his shoulders and leaped onto his back. ‘We’re going to have words about this later,’ I said.

‘Looking forward
to them,’ he said, and jumped.

Lincoln was so strong, he carried my weight as if I wasn’t there, manoeuvring himself to hook his belt around one of the steel cables to guide us down the centre of the shaft. But we both knew there was only so long his belt would hold. Moving at breakneck speed, the belt gave way and split in two when we were little more than halfway down. Lincoln quickly replaced it with his bare hands.

The smell of flesh burning was instant. But, stubborn as ever, he held on for as long as he could, even as I screamed, watching the trail of blood left behind on the cable.

Finally, he let go, using the momentum to push himself forward so that he fell with his chest facing down for the last ten floors, protecting me from the impact of the fall.

He’s going to take the hit!

Everything in me wanted to stop him, wanted to use my own momentum to roll his body so that I was on the bottom. But I didn’t. He was right; we were no use to each other if we were dead or unconscious. The only way out of this was if I was in good enough shape to heal him when we stopped.

What the hell is going on? Why are we running from the Grigori?

We hurtled towards the ground and I braced, not wanting to hurt Lincoln when we landed and determined to remain breathing.

The landing sent a violent shock through my body and I instantly felt consciousness slipping away. But Lincoln was beneath me and he wasn’t moving, so somehow I held on, summoning my power as I crawled off him and, avoiding the flames that were licking the walls around us, flipped him onto his back. I didn’t let the blood, the broken bones or the shoulder that had dislocated again sink in or slow me down. Because on top of all of that I could still hear people,
Grigori
, yelling from the top of the lift shaft for us to hold still.

My power flared
and I let it flow hard and fast. Never before had I willed it to work so quickly. Responding to my urgency, the space around us filled with my amethyst mist. So much so that it hid us beneath a purple cloud as it worked to find Lincoln’s injuries while I shoved his shoulder back into place. His burnt hands were stripped to the bone and the smell made me gag, but I kept going. When Lincoln’s eyes finally opened, he screamed in agony, grasping my arms as I stared at him, concentrating all of my power to fix him. Nothing, not even the sound of people nearby, took my focus away.

When Lincoln’s hands, face and shoulder were healed I went over his legs. One had snapped in two, bone piercing through his torn pants.

‘Jesus!’ I cried, failing for a moment to supress my horror, before forcing my healing into him as he screamed again.

Once his breathing was steady and his leg was mended, he grabbed my hand. ‘Let’s move!’ He jumped up, the man who had been on his deathbed just seconds ago, and yanked open the lift doors with his inhuman strength.

Once we made it outside, we fell into pace alongside each other, running through the New York streets, putting five, then ten, then fifteen blocks between us and the Academy buildings. We didn’t slow to a walk until we hit a pedestrian-heavy street.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked finally. I needed to know what the hell had happened. But then I noticed that Lincoln was limping. ‘Damn. We need to get you somewhere. You’re still hurt.’

‘We’ll be there soon,’ he said, not stopping.

‘Linc!’ I
shouted, exasperated. ‘Why are we on the run?’

‘Because Griffin told me to get you out of there. I don’t know everything yet but he said they’d take you prisoner if we stayed.’

‘Why?’ I pushed, confused.

He started to pick up the pace again. ‘I think Griffin believes Josephine will try and pin this whole thing on you. She’s already started to claim you’re sympathetic to exiles.’

Oh my God.

They’d lock me up and throw away the key. I never would have made it out without Lincoln and would have had no chance of going after Evelyn.

‘Griff is going to meet us at midnight. Until then, we need to stay hidden and make sure no one follows him to us.’

‘How do we do that?’

‘By being prepared.’ He started to lead us down a side street.

‘Where are we going?’

He almost smiled, but the limp and the fear killed it. ‘We’re going to church.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

‘He will order his angels to protect you wherever you go.’

Psalms 91:11

‘T
he Church of the Guardian Angel?’ I asked, sarcasm dripping from my voice as we stood across the road from the unassuming red-brick church, scoping it out. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

Lincoln grinned briefly and gestured to our surroundings. ‘Would you prefer to stay out here?’

Only then did I actually register the people staring at us in our torn and blood-soaked clothes. We looked like we’d just walked away from a car wreck – or a massacre.

Lincoln was doing better now that we weren’t charging through peak-hour crowds, but he was clearly hurting more than he’d admit. He stubbornly refused to let me look at him, insisting we get inside first.

I accused him of having a hero complex.

He ignored me.

My head was spinning. Everything seemed to have been turned upside down so quickly. A few hours ago I had been fighting to earn my place in the Academy, and now I was running from them.

Lincoln inspected the church
from all angles, taking his time to walk the perimeter a number of times. Once satisfied it wasn’t some kind of set-up he went to the front doors and pulled them open. We entered silently, taking in every detail, Lincoln pausing to bless himself with holy water. I wasn’t sure if he had done it out of faith or as a stalling strategy to continue scanning the interior. Both, maybe.

I couldn’t bring myself to follow suit settling instead for looking around like a tourist – a fitting description for me when it came to religion.

The church was simple yet handsome. Small statues and stone engravings decorated the interior perimeter, stained-glass windows were set high in the walls beneath dark wooden beams. Polished cherry-wood pews lined the knave, while hanging lanterns gave the whole space a welcoming feel. Before we’d even been there for a minute, a small door opened to the side of the altar and a priest stepped out.

He looked us up and down. Lincoln paused, assuming a non-confrontational stance. I, on the other hand, took my dagger in my hand and stepped forwards, positioning myself between the priest and my injured partner.

‘Violet,’ Lincoln said calmly. ‘Relax.’

But my protective instincts had kicked in. Stubbornly, I held my position. I could already sense this priest was not human. Not
only
human, anyway.

I concentrated on what I was feeling. He was dressed in a black cassock, though his collar was open and the stiff white insert was missing. His hair was beginning to grey but his features remained young, and he had kind and knowing brown eyes. His physique, though hidden beneath robes, was obviously fit. I guessed he was no more than thirty, making him on the younger side for both the greying hair and to be a priest. I measured our new risk carefully, the priest remaining still while I did, but his eyes darted between us, intrigued.

‘Violet,’
Lincoln said again. ‘Father Peters is a friend.’

My eyes narrowed. ‘That’s not all he is,’ I said, keeping my eyes on the priest.

At my comment he smiled and bowed his head. ‘Very perceptive,’ he said, his gentle voice carrying through the room. I felt it move into me, reassuring me and instilling a sense of calm. ‘I was once Grigori, now retired.’

I blinked, realising that my senses weren’t playing tricks on me. The priest smiled, as if he could read me.

‘Stop using your power on us,’ I said, putting my dagger away and placing my hands on my hips.

His eyes widened.

Yeah, that’s right. I can feel you leaking your calm crap into me and I’ve had about enough of my emotions being messed with to last a lifetime.

He didn’t need telling twice. The trickle of his power moved away from us and he gestured to the front pew.

‘My apologies.’

I nodded. ‘Accepted.’

Lincoln sighed – probably relieved I hadn’t taken down a priest. He moved to the front pew trying to hide his weakness as he collapsed onto the bench.

I rolled my eyes at him. ‘Are you going to let me heal you now?’

‘In a minute,’ he said, dismissing me and then waving a hand between the priest and me. ‘Violet, meet Father Peters.

He’s an old friend of Griffin’s and, this church is one of the only places in Manhattan that we can hide from Josephine’s sources.’

‘And only for a
short time,’ Father Peters added. ‘Griffin called ahead. He didn’t say much, but enough to know I could expect trouble.’ He put his hand out to shake mine and then to Lincoln.

Lincoln slumped a little further even as he took his hand. ‘I’m sure you don’t remember me–’ he began but Peters cut him off.

‘Lincoln Wood. I remember you. Griffin speaks highly of few and age is not thy enemy. Now, what are we expecting? And just how pissed off are they likely to be?’

Lincoln smiled. He liked Father Peters’ candour. So did I.

‘No company we hope, we didn’t spy any followers and we were careful. We just need a place to stay until Griffin arrives. We don’t want to bring trouble your way.’

Father Peters raised a knowing eyebrow. ‘But you had nowhere else to go, which says enough.’

Lincoln nodded. I sat beside him, desperate to reach out and help him, but knowing that he didn’t want my help. Not yet.

The priest looked around the quiet church. ‘Well, it’s times like these when the house of God puts it best, and most stubborn, foot forward. We’ll hope no trouble comes to us, but best we prepare for it anyway.’

Priest or not – he’s a fighter for sure.

Good.

Father Peters wasted no
time. He gave Lincoln and me a quick tour of the areas in the church we could use for defence and attack, showing us all the entry points and possible weaknesses in the building’s structure. Finally, he took us down to his private chambers. Lincoln and I both took a moment to absorb the sight before us.