Empower

by Jessica Shirvington

  Lost for words, I stared back at Onyx, knowing, no matter what was in our past, he was now and forever my family.

  “I see you have the fire back in your eyes,” Onyx said, glancing at Lincoln, who was talking to a nearby group. “Looks like things are finally how they should be for you.”

  I nodded. “I’m surprised you don’t have any gloating to do,” I said, still half expecting a sly comment to follow. But then I followed Onyx’s line of sight to where Phoenix stood talking with some of the Rogues.

  “Apparently I’m turning into a bit of a girl.” Onyx gave a tight smile. “Besides, I’ve already collected on all the betting pools.” But his quip fell short of his usual flair.

  I nodded, looking awkwardly at my feet as I said, “He could use a friend.”

  When I looked up again, Onyx was giving one of his dramatic eye rolls. “Oh, please. I’ve seen what Phoenix does to his friends, and it isn’t pretty.”

  “You’re not the only one who’s changed, Onyx,” Dapper said softly.

  Lincoln joined us then, halting our conversation. He shook hands with Dapper and Onyx, and I could tell he was just as humbled by their presence as I had been.

  After a brief chat to bring them up to speed—which Steph had mostly taken care of—Lincoln turned to me. “Vi, we only have a couple hours left.”

  I nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

  Lincoln kissed me quickly and then rested his forehead against mine, speaking just to me. “I know. I have to go and take care of a few things, but come and find me soon. I was hoping we could have a bit of time together, just us, before…”

  I nodded, wanting nothing more, before turning into the fray and getting on with business. As I walked away, I wondered if it would always be like this: battle waiting as we joined hands and got on with the job, sharing brief kisses when we had the chance.

  Could I be so blessed?

  “The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.”

  Joseph Conrad

  By 10 p.m., the full moon, weighted with the promise of devastation, had risen above the steeple of St. Louis Cathedral, and almost two and a half thousand Grigori had taken up position along the riverbank of the Mississippi.

  Spotters had alerted us to a number of tournament fights that had already broken out within the city. The largest was happening within the old abandoned power plant on Market Street. Ray and Leila had led Gray and his team to deal with that, and we left the other smaller battles to go on, knowing that tonight we had to be smart.

  Sammael’s plan was becoming clear, but the tournaments were one piece of the puzzle that still left me confused. All of our intel told us he was a purist—that he believed in the division between light and dark and that light would prevail—but then why bring them all here, knowing that even if the battle and the hurricane didn’t end them, the angels most definitely would? Was it simply to ensure his plan for devastation worked?

  The conductors and senior Grigori had advised that Sammael would use the river to build the strength of his hurricane, so Phoenix and his team had taken up elevated positions along the river. We wouldn’t be able to stop all of the destruction caused to the outer wetlands and suburbs, but our military alliances had stepped up and covered as much ground as possible in the afternoon, evacuating many of those areas.

  The river’s edge would be the place we would make our stand.

  Of course, the always-statistical conductors also highlighted that it was suicide. This information, however, did not stop any Grigori from arming up—not even the conductors.

  Steph had stayed by Salvatore’s side until he had left with Zoe and their team. I could see the fear in her eyes but, even more, her strength and acceptance that this would be her life if she was going to commit to being by this man’s side. Steph, Dapper, and Onyx remained with the navy, who had anchored their ships with the intention of pulling back into the city on foot. They had taken Spence and Chloe with them and would push back as many of the city’s residents as they could along the way.

  Drenson had made his unhappiness known to all in the final hours before we headed out, and now I observed it as he and Adele stalked up and down the pavement on the edge of the French Quarter. He was using each return lap to glare at me.

  Josephine and Griffin stood nearby, shouting out orders to a number of their team members, positioning them where they could gain the best advantage.

  “You have a lot to answer for, you know!” I yelled over the wind.

  Lincoln took my hand, trying to pull me back, but I wasn’t having it. This might be my last chance to say something.

  Josephine, who was head to toe in fighting leathers, turned to meet my fierce expression.

  “I take it you are talking about Drenson. And I remind you that it is none of your business. You chose not to be a part of the Academy. Remember?” She raised her eyebrow knowingly. “Or has that changed?”

  “I’ve never not cared about the Academy, Josephine, but I refuse to let go of who I am in order to become one of your puppets.” The wind picked up and I was grateful I’d tied my hair into a braid. “Does he even know how to fight?” I blurted.

  Josephine laughed, though she sobered quickly. “He is Grigori, Violet. He may choose an administrative role now, but he has faced many battles; of that you can be assured.”

  Josephine’s words sank in and left me feeling reprimanded. I had passed my judgment on Drenson without really knowing him. His clear dislike for me had caused a defensive response from the beginning. I let go of Lincoln’s hand. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I said, walking toward Drenson and Adele. As I approached, Adele cast her eyes away from me and meekly scurried off.

  What is it with her?

  Drenson walked around the corner, out of sight, and I followed, realizing that Josephine was right. Who was I to criticize Drenson? Maybe we’d just started off on the wrong foot.

  As soon as I turned the corner, Drenson whipped around and had his hand around my neck. He pushed me back into the wall and squeezed, his face less than an inch from mine.

  “You are like a parasite that will not go away,” he hissed. “Do you really think you can take my place?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want your place,” I gritted out as I fought for breath.

  “And you will never have it!” he returned, his grip tightening to the point where I couldn’t talk even if I had something to say. I was going to have to fight back.

  I closed my eyes briefly, feeling a surge of sadness and bitter justification. My instincts had been right. Drenson saw me as his enemy and his need for power was dangerous for all Grigori.

  I opened my eyes, resigned to engaging in a fight with the head of the Assembly, but I never got the chance. All I saw was Drenson being thrown so far, he hit the wall on the opposite side of the street. And then Lincoln’s hand was at my throat, tilting up my chin, checking for damage.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him, blinking in disbelief—because it hadn’t been Lincoln who had thrown Drenson off me. It was Josephine.

  Josephine’s hand was wrapped tightly around Adele’s upper arm as she watched Drenson collect himself from the ground, shaking her head in barely contained anger. “Why didn’t you fight back?” Josephine asked, briefly looking over her shoulder at me.

  I exhaled, taking another deep breath. “I have enough enemies to fight tonight already.”

  Adele looked pale as Josephine released her. She made her way hesitantly to Drenson, who had slumped back to the ground.

  “Thank you,” I said to Josephine.

  “Keep him away from her,” Lincoln said, his tone deadly clear.

  Josephine opened her mouth to say something, but her attention was caught, and I turned to see Drenson, now awake, huddled close to Adele, whispering.

  “
I hope you are everything they believe and more,” Josephine said, and I detected a note of tiredness in her tone that I had not heard before.

  “Who are they?” I asked.

  She tilted her head to the sky and back at me before crossing the road. “He will not bother you again.”

  “She’s so strange,” I murmured as Lincoln collected his backpack of supplies from where he’d dumped it on the ground and hooked his arms through its straps.

  “She wants us to be strong,” Lincoln said, leading us toward the riverbank. The wind was so forceful now, it felt like we were walking into a wall.

  “Us?”

  “Grigori. All of us. She wants us to triumph, and most of what she does is done for that reason. I think it’s hard for her to consider that though she has always been the strongest leader, that may be changing.”

  I shook my head, frustrated. “It isn’t about who’s the strongest, Linc. It’s about who’s trusted, who will be followed.”

  He nodded, smiling.

  “What?” I asked.

  His lips twitched. “Nothing. I just realized I’m not your teacher anymore.”

  I smiled in return—because maybe that was true.

  Lincoln’s phone beeped. Then again. Then mine. Then they both started to ring. We both answered.

  “Violet, you’ve got incoming,” Gray yelled, out of breath like he was running. “I don’t know what the bloody hell happened, but a huge group of dark exiles stormed through, taking out every light exile in sight. Hell, we barely made it out of that damn power plant!”

  Lincoln was talking quickly on his phone, looking down toward the French Quarter. He put his hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to me. “It’s Mia. She said there are thousands of light exiles marching down the streets of the French Quarter. They’re headed this way.”

  “Violet, where are you?” Gray yelled.

  “We’re on Canal Street, almost at the river,” I replied.

  “We’re almost there. They’re headed right for you. Get out of there! Get out!” The line went dead.

  Lincoln had my hand and started to pull but my feet were rooted to the spot as I looked from left to right. Canal Street was wide—three lanes each way and streetcar tracks through the center. The road was straight and flat and I could see clearly as, via the dozen side streets on each side of the dividing road, exiles began to pour out.

  Thousands.

  And thousands.

  Lincoln and I stood right in the middle of their battlefield.

  As light and dark faced off from opposite sides of the street, Lincoln and I tried to move back toward the river. My heart thudded seeing the sheer number of exiles in the one place.

  “Linc,” I said, my hand trembling in his.

  “Just keep moving,” he said levelly, adjusting his backpack.

  But the wind was lashing like crazy and pushed me so hard, I stumbled. Lincoln caught me, but it had been enough. The eyes of nearby exiles turned.

  A group of at least twenty dark exiles started to run toward us. I braced for the impossible onslaught.

  How can it have come to this? I have to get to Sammael! I have to save Spence!

  Fury took the place of fear and I grabbed my dagger.

  “Look!” Lincoln yelled, pointing to our left.

  Gray and Carter barreled out of a nearby side street, their troops close behind. Their team of wayward Rogues worked seamlessly as one tight unit, taking down exiles as they moved through.

  “Gray!” I screamed.

  He looked around frantically, and the moment he spotted us, he started to shout out orders.

  “Get to them! We protect them at all costs!”

  Gray’s team hit the onslaught of exiles just as they reached us.

  “Go!” Carter yelled, putting his body between the exiles and me.

  My mind raced. I knew I needed to run, to stay alive until I could face Sammael, but I couldn’t just leave them.

  Lincoln grabbed my arm. “We have to!” he shouted, his face looking as pained as I felt.

  Indecision bit at me.

  “Gray!” Lincoln yelled. “Mia’s got the rooftops!”

  I looked up, seeing he was right. Grigori scampered along on the edges of many of the buildings edging the street. The conductors’ team was in charge of putting up a force field to keep the battle hidden from human eyes as much as possible, but while they were doing that, they could also help out with other things.

  Gray ordered his team back, trying to give the high-placed warriors a clear shot, but they were boxed in.

  I unleashed my power, sending it out toward the river end of the road. I could feel as my power spread to a few, then a few more, then twenty, then thirty, and finally close to forty exiles. It was the most I’d ever held at one time.

  Holding my concentration, I squeezed Lincoln’s hand. He knew exactly what I needed.

  “Gray!” he yelled. “Clear the path!”

  Gray’s Rogues charged forward, taking out the exiles who were under my control, and as we ran, arrows tipped in my silvered blood started to fly. Exiles around us dropped to the ground briefly before disappearing.

  Gray’s team then moved into a defensive position, creating a wall around Lincoln and me.

  “How far have you got to go?” Gray asked Lincoln as we ran.

  “Right there,” Lincoln said. Fifty yards away stood the tall building that marked the end of Canal Street and the edge of the riverbank. It stood at the border of the French Quarter and the Warehouse District, and smack bang in the middle of what had now become the division between the exiles of light and dark.

  “Doesn’t anyone ever get tired of the symbolism?” Carter grunted, looking up.

  I took in the building, which was about forty stories high. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. Sure, I’d noticed that the building was an odd shape from the steamboat last night, but I hadn’t even considered that it would continue on like this on the other side. “It’s a cross.”

  “Yep, pointing to the sky,” Carter said.

  Of course it was.

  “Get them to the doors!” Gray shouted, and our convoy pushed forward.

  As we neared the entrance to the building, the exiles stopped pursuing us.

  “Are they scared?” I asked, baffled by their restraint.

  Lincoln watched them retreat. “They don’t look happy about pulling back.”

  We watched as one exile tried to get closer to us but failed to cross an invisible threshold.

  “It’s a force field.”

  The exile continued to push in his attempt to get closer to us, but it looked as if someone had put him on a treadmill. Gray saw the same thing and gave us a nod. “You’ll be protected from them in here. But hell knows what’s waiting for you inside. You should take a few of the Rogues with you,” he suggested.

  But the battle was only growing, and we could hear screams coming from the riverbank where we’d left Josephine and Griffin’s team.

  I shook my head. “Go back and help the conductors’ team. We’ll be okay.”

  Grudgingly, Gray nodded and then, working with Carter, they split their team in two and scurried down a side street where they could rejoin the battle on their own terms.

  Lincoln and I made for the front doors, which stood open, torches alight with fire on either side. “What do you want to bet that this isn’t really a dilapidated abandoned building inside?” I asked.

  “Nothing I want to keep,” Lincoln replied as we stepped into the empty white-marbled foyer.

  “Wow,” I said, looking around. Apart from the outer walls, there was nothing in this building except a set of cables in the center of the room reaching from the ground to the ceiling forty-odd stories above.

  As we watched, a glass elevator made its way smoothly down the
cables, stopping in front of us. We could see that it was empty, but even so, when the doors slid open, I tensed.

  “Vi?” Lincoln prompted, his voice gentle, and I knew what he was asking.

  Anything.

  He’d do anything I needed right then. He’d turn around and walk out; he’d run; he’d fight. Anything.

  I licked my dry lips. “I love you, Linc,” I said, throwing every last piece of my heart deep into the words.

  “Don’t you dare say good-bye, Vi.”

  I stared ahead at the elevator waiting for us. “I’m not saying good-bye. Just that I get it now, that saying: A life without love is no life at all. It’s true. And now, live or die, I know I’ve really experienced life. With you.”

  I held out my hand and his slid smoothly into its rightful place.

  “I love you too.”

  We walked into the elevator and the doors closed automatically. As we began our ascent, Lincoln turned to me. “And you and I will experience everything this world has to offer and then we will grow old together, with our family.”

  I swallowed hard at his words. It seemed like a fantasy to even contemplate being here and together for so long that, as Grigori, we would grow old together.

  How many years would that take?

  Family? Does that mean he wants to have children?

  What would that mean?

  Can we even…

  Sensing my runaway mind, Lincoln squeezed my hand, bringing me back to the here and now.

  The elevator slowed and finally crested right through the ceiling and stopped on the open rooftop. When the door opened, we were assaulted by heavy winds and rain sheeting sideways, and I raised my hand to protect my eyes.

  “Glad I’m not afraid of heights,” I said as we got out, trying to keep our balance as we walked along the glass rooftop. Lincoln quickly wedged his backpack between the elevator and a supporting pylon while I noted, somewhat desperately, that there was no railing or wall surrounding the roof perimeter. If the wind pushed us too far in one direction, we could easily plummet to our death.

  At the tip of the eastern arm of the building’s cross, closest to the river, Sammael—dressed in a modern black suit with shiny lapels, sans tie—stood in the center of a large pentagram drawn in what looked a lot like blood with white stuff scattered over it.