Enticed (22 page)

Onyx smiled, but for once I didn"t think his heart was truly in it. He was too busy dabbing his bleeding nose and watching Spence out of the corner of his eye.

He was right, though. As soon as he said it, it made sense. Of course this was Phoenix and of course he wanted to drive a wedge between Lincoln and me. Weaken us.

And you walked right into it!

I wanted to slap myself. He must be laughing so hard at how easy it was to separate us, how easily I just let Lincoln go off on these renegade missions instead of focusing on the Scriptures, how easily Lincoln was derailed and turned from his responsibilities.

Of all things, this – the exile that had hurt his Mother – was the only thing that could spoil him so effectively, have him turn his back on his obligations. Lincoln had an excuse – he was blinded by his love for his Mum and his need for closer – but what the hell was mine? I should have seen this coming.

„Now, if you don"t mind, could you please instruct your brawn to hand over my payment and go away?"

„Spence, give him the bourbon. Thank you, Onyx." I nodded at him and he looked away.

Spence put the bottles on the coffee table and I could tell he was even pleased than I was about having to pay him for information.

As we walked out Onyx spoke again, „I know someone who might know where he is. I"l let you know."

I didn"t turn around, I just paused in the doorway. „Thank you."

Spence and I left Hades without talking after I"d stopped to let Dapper know that Onyx could do with an ice-pack. When we hit the pavement Spence was all pumped up.

„Do you think he"l send through the address tonight?" he asked.

In the dark, the night air was cool and made me feel unprotected and somehow all alone, despite my company. I turned a wary look to Spence. „Not tonight. I have to get home before Dad calls and anyway I"m too tired for anything else. If I get the address, we can go tomorrow."

Spence"s shoulders sagged forward.

„I promise I"l let you know. I won"t go without you," I assured him.

He smiled. Spence stil hadn"t asked for the full story about Nahilius. It occurred to me he didn"t care. As long as there was the potential for a fight, he was in.

„Um, Spence, can we keep this to ourselves for now?"

„You won"t catch me telling anyone," he said. And I know he wouldn"t. Spence wouldn"t risk missing out.

Another good thing to remember!

"
Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their
objects than love."

George Elliot

The phone was ringing when I opened the door.

„Hello? Hello?" I called into the receiver after lunging to get it before it stopped.

„Hello?" I said, again.

„Vi, it"s me. Where have you been?"

„Oh, hi Dad. I was out with Sp– Steph. We were at the library.

„Uh huh."

„Dad, seriously. If you don"t believe me, call Steph – she"s probably stil there." Lying just isn"t something that sits well with me, so the fact that I seemed to be lying to everyone in my life at the moment
and
was turning out to be pretty damn good as it was disturbing. For whatever reason to whatever person, it never feels right. I"ve felt like that my whole life, always thinking it was something I had inherited from my Mother.
Until I discovered she was
the biggest liar of all!

„Okay, okay – so you were at the library. Sweetheart, I was worried about you. I"ve called the apartment a few times today and you haven"t been home. I tried the other night as well, but you weren"t there. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

„Like what?"

„I don"t know. How"s Lincoln?" Dad asked, trying out the question.

„He"s okay. You know, same as always."

„Are you two stil … friends?" he asked, a lilt in his voice.

„Yes," I deadpanned.

„
Just
friends?"

„Dad," I warned.

„Okay. But you"re okay then?"

„I"m fine. How"s your trip going?"

„Same as always, sweetheart. Somehow Caroline has managed to arrange meetings with almost every client the company has." Beneath the obvious exhaustion I noticed something that sounded a lot like endearment. If I hadn"t known Dad as well as I did I would"ve wondered if something were going on between him and his PA. Dad sighed. „I miss you. I"m trying to rearrange the schedule, with any luck I"l see you in a few days."

Talking to Dad, I had an idea – a memory really – of the dreams I"d had. Until now, they had seemed so unreal I"d just brushed them off as weird, but with everything that was happening, I realised for the first time that maybe they were the clue I had needed.

„Sure. Dad?"

„Yes."

„When you met Mum, when you lived in New York – did she ever mention any friends she had there? Um … Did she ever mention anyone"s name … like Nyla or Rudyard?"

„No, not that remembered. Your Mum didn"t have many connections when we met. She had only recently moved from a small town to New York. Why?"

See! My Mum, biggest liar of all.

„No reason, I just met this nice old couple the other day … they were from New York and thought I looked familiar. I wondered if maybe they were recognising Mum.

„Oh," I could hear Dad choking up. People always told me how much I looked like Mum.

Apart from Dad"s hazel eyes, I was supposed to be a lot like her. „Wel … I doubt they knew her."

„Yeah, I"m sure your right. Have a good trip."

„Sure, honey. Call me if you need anything and remember – no one at the apartment except Steph and if you need anything …"

„I know, I know – the Richardsons are just next door."

When Dad hung up, I paused, holding the phone, trying desperately to think back to the dream. I don"t know why I"d thought if it at that moment, or why I hadn"t tried to figure it out before now.

Every time I"d woken from the dreams I"d been so sure that they were real. The first time, shivering and sore, as if the raining ice had chilled me to the bone and bruised my skin. The other times, feeling the dream and its contents slipping out f my grasp but always left with a lingering sadness and sense of burden. I was certain my angel maker had shown me the dreams but then – like so many others – I"d felt myself forget. Til now. I couldn"t remember everything but I could hear his words. His warning.

„A traitor," I whispered.

-

Desperate to clear my head, I ran myself a bath and soaked for a small eternity. I had to let out the cold water three times to top up with more hot. It was comforting to lie there and think quietly. I couldn"t remember the last time I"d done this. I let my hair out of its ponytail, released it into the water and slid back. The long strands explored the water, snaking around my neck and chest. As the warmth of the water reached through my skin and into my core I felt some part of myself – a part I had not allowed to surface in a long time – awaken. Silent tears started to trickle from my eyes. I let them. They were not tears of panic, or even despair – just tears, tears of quiet, tears for me.

Eventually I let my head slide right back down to the bath. My loose hair floated in the warm water, which enveloped me in a world of both amplified` sound and quietness. I held my breath and let my lips part slightly so I could feel the water move inside my mouth. I waited, and waited. I waited for the burn – the urgent need for air. But being Grigori meant it was a slower process than it once was. I could hold my breath for a lot longer now.

It was a relief to be alone. Even if I was crying and submerged, I still felt a peaceful calm.

My hands slid along the ceramic of the bath and then to the place on my stomach where Onyx had rammed his silver sword. I tried not to – but my thoughts went to
him
. I couldn"t stop them – the memories. As much as I wanted to deny it, there was a part of me that would be forever linked to Phoenix and it had nothing to do with his physical hold over me.

A surge of emotion flooded through me as my lungs started to burn with hot ice and when morning and evening flashed across my closed eyes, I knew the burning in my lungs was not for oxygen. It was everywhere. I bolted upright, gasping for air, my eyes darting frantically about as a gust of chilling wind hit me in the face.

„Son of a bitch!" I jumped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around me as I charged out of the bathroom.

„Phoenix!" I yelled to the empty apartment. „I know it"s you!"

Worst of all, just as I had felt his blast of intense emotion before he left, I knew it was a result of the initial feelings he had felt coming from me.

I secured the apartment as tightly as I could, once again finding the sliding door to the balcony unlocked. I checked everything, pulling across the safety latches on the main door and checking the deadbolts on all the windows.

Like that can stop him.

It was more about the active process than anything else.

I considered calling Steph, but she"d been ordered by her Mother back home for the night and what was she going to do if Phoenix returned anyway? I was stronger without having to defend her as well. I"d already dragged Steph into this world more often than I was comfortable with.

I
wanted
to call Lincoln, but I could imagine that conversation.
Yeah, so Phoenix was in
my apartment while I was in the bath and thinking of him. I"m pretty sure he felt everything I
was feeling. Do you think you could play protector for me?
I don"t think so.

With no one to turn to, I hauled my giant-sized quilt out to the sofa and slept, if you can call it that, in the living room.

Phoenix was gone, but not far.

I realised now, he never was.

I couldn"t sense him as easily as I could other exiles. His human part gave him a valuable camouflage and he could mask his presence much more effectively.
I didn"t know if I was more disappointed or embarrassed that I had been refusing to acknowledging the truth, but despite his subtlety I had definitely been feeling him. Never as close as this before, but he"d been there.

Watching. Waiting.

I now had little doubt. I had felt his intensity in that one burst of emotion, felt his desperate need to eliminate me. Any glimmer of hope that might have once been there - that somehow Phoenix would change, would be that guy I first got to know – was gone.

Phoenix will kill me.

Or, I"l kill him.

„
It looked as if a night of dark intent was coming,
and not only a night, an age.

Someone had better be prepared for rage …"

Robert Frost

Spence and I had been walking around the aircraft factory for hours. It wasn"t my idea of a joyous Saturday. There was nothing so far that had resembled the mottled feeling the senses had given me at the airport. It was no surprise. Despite Spence"s mumblings he was right when he said we weren"t metal detectors. The senses are designed to pinpoint exiles, not aircraft carriers.

I was about to grab Spence, who"d decided to make the most of the excursion and was now having a splendid time checking out all the machinery, when I felt the senses. The type that cause no confusion and were definitely not directing me to an aeroplane.

The flavour of apple watered in my mouth, seeping through my cheeks and onto my tongue. Morning and evening – the raw beauty of their power slid in and out of my vision as I smelled bouquets of syrupy flowers, sickly, like concentrated honeysuckle.

I welcomed the senses, which were now part of me that I could, in a way, communicate with. I could hear the sound of wings flapping furiously as if struggling to reach me before colliding into trees. Of all the senses, this was the one that evoked the most emotion in me.

Lincoln had explained to me that the sound of the wings – light and dark for doves and ravens – represents the battle for life, the ongoing effort necessary for any living force to survive. The collision of branches and leaves symbolises the „everything" that must be faced and defeated if a living force it to continue. It"s the choice to go on.

The final sensation, a humming energy of cool heat, moved through my entire body, travelling to each end and then beyond. It enveloped me and then released me just as smoothly, ensuring that every part of me was now attuned to what lay ahead, I acknowledge all of the senses and allowed them to flow through me, do their job, and I let them go. It was so much easier than it had once been and each time I felt them, I had more control.

I looked towards Spence, who had not sensed the exile yet. Even if he had felt an inkling

– I wouldn"t have been surprised if he missed it – he was male, after all,
and
in an aircraft hangar. He was in boy-toy heave.

„Spence," I said. He turned from an engrossing conversation with one of the mechanics and looked at me blankly. He wasn"t going to make this easy.

„Ah, Spence, I think we should go look over there," I said, trying to give him the we"ve-got-a-problem look. He missed it completely.

„Oh, okay. You head over, I"l be there in a minute," he said, brushing me off and making the mechanic smile.

Great.

I put in a big cheesy grin for the mechanic, who was clearly enjoying the show, then I turned it on Spence.

„Come on, Spency. Why don"t you come over here and I"l give you an apple for being such a good boy?" I said sarcastically.

Spence"s eyes grew wide as he realised what I was saying. I was willing to bet at that moment his little taste buds were suddenly getting all appleicious. His eyes darted between me and the mechanic, like a fool. If I wasn"t trying to concentrate so hard on locating our problem I might have laughed at him.

He stumbled through a departure speech which only translated to the mechanic that he was under my thumb. The man teased him as Spence tripped over himself to catch up to me.

„Nice," I said, as he fell into step with me.