Empower: Violet Eden Chapters: Book Five

by Shirvington, Jessica

  Sammael stepped through the gateway, disappearing from this world. The arch of blood instantly dropped to the rooftop floor, and his human witches collapsed a moment later.

  However he plans to return, it will not be through this gate.

  Lincoln checked the witches.

  ‘Are they …’ I started.

  He shook his head. ‘Unconscious. Maybe in some form of coma.’ He stood back up. ‘Vi, what was Sammael talking about when he said “the very thing he created”?’

  I looked around us. Chaos had closed in. Below, I could see the war between light and dark exiles. There were too many. Thousands. Their battle had migrated to the river, using the open land along the embankment for maximum fighting space. I could hear their screams carrying in the wild wind and knew that many of our Grigori brethren were paying the ultimate price.

  We’re losing.

  This is the beginning of the end.

  Small explosions sounded nearby and the rain shot down like sheets of glass. I studied the place where Sammael had disappeared as I answered. ‘I’ve always known,’ I said, realising now that it was true. ‘I just wasn’t ready to believe it.’

  ‘What?’

  I held out my hand for Lincoln. He took it without question and I looked deep into his green eyes, hoping I might have the chance after all of this to tell him all the things that my heart wanted to scream from a very different rooftop. ‘I know who my angel maker is,’ I said. Lincoln watched me, holding his balance strong against the weather, his eyes flickering as he tried to make sense of my words … and then widening when he did.

  ‘Oh,’ he said.

  I mirrored the thought and pulled my katana from the sheath at my back, checking my arrows and that my secondary dagger strapped to my thigh was in place. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Always,’ he said simply.

  With my love at my side, with my angel maker waiting for me, and with death already at the party, I crossed the realms.

  I escorted Lincoln through the cross-over, knowing I was risking it all, considering that everything I wanted was held clasped in my sweaty hand. But this was my life. His too. And we would take this chance together.

  Even so, I tightened my hold.

  The moment we made the transition the wind vanished, the rain stopped and we were in another place, an uncharted space.

  ‘The desert?’ Lincoln asked, looking around first in wonder, then in panic. ‘Vi, there’s nothing … anywhere.’

  I shook my head. ‘The space can be anything. For some reason I almost always conjure a desert, but now that we’re here, I can …’ I smiled. ‘Watch.’

  I closed my eyes, willing this image away and for the truth of this space to reveal itself to me. I opened my eyes when I heard Lincoln gasp.

  ‘Oh my God,’ he said.

  The desert was gone.

  Darkness enveloped us.

  Lost souls glittered in the space beyond. And hundreds of rainbows lit the nothingness before us. Bridges to a cosmos of possibilities.

  My angel maker stood at a distance, another at his side. My maker’s expression remained calm, his sword gripped loosely in his right hand. The angel beside him was startlingly identical to my maker, though I instinctively knew that he was his opposite in every way.

  Like Uri and Nox. The ultimate balance of light and dark.

  And behind them … an angelic army wearing silver armour over white linen and holding imposing swords were mounted on a field of proud white horses. The vision so otherworldly, so … heavenly, it almost brought me to my knees.

  Sammael’s back was to us as he stood facing them on foot, his sword at the ready. His glasses and shoes were gone and he was now in grey linen pants with an untucked white shirt.

  I wasn’t sure if he knew we had crossed over. But my angel maker’s eyes looked beyond him – even as Sammael shouted his challenge – and deep into mine, searching, knowing.

  Did he always know it would come to this?

  I think he must have.

  Tentatively I released Lincoln’s hand, hesitating before letting him go completely and flinching with relief when he remained beside me when we finally broke the last contact.

  ‘A challenge is my right in this place!’ Sammael yelled. ‘Would you set your army on me or prove your worth? You who are so mighty, favoured above all others, and so worthy of all praise!’

  It wasn’t difficult to play the conversation forward. Angels were prideful creatures even though they claimed to be emotionless. Not one would hide from a forthright challenge, nor would they relinquish the chance to defeat a mighty foe such as Sammael.

  Sensing what I was about to do, Lincoln leaned close to my ear. ‘Our connection is altered in this place. I don’t think I can heal you here,’ he whispered desperately. ‘You’re still weak from the blood loss. Let me do this.’

  I turned to him and cupped his face in my hand. ‘You will. You’ll be with me every step of the way, but we both know it has to be me.’

  Tears welled in his eyes but did not fall. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly and gave a short nod. ‘Be smart. Be ruthless. And keep our connection open. If I can help, let me,’ he said.

  I nodded and my heart swelled. This, more than anything, was Lincoln’s great sacrifice. His willingness to let me take the ultimate risk, knowing there was a great chance I would not survive, was an act of love beyond anything I had believed possible. Using my control and will of this space in time, I altered my katana as I approached, lengthening the blade to match that of Sammael’s.

  ‘You challenge my maker, and so, you challenge me!’ I called out, causing Sammael to spin in my direction. ‘If you wish to fight him, you must first defeat me.’ I pulled my extra weapons – my arrows and thigh dagger – from their sheaths and threw them to the side, keeping just my sword that matched his.

  The statuesque angels did not react to my intrusion. Sammael, however, while clearly unsurprised to see me, was caught off-guard by my proclamation.

  ‘You cannot fight me,’ he said, laughing loudly. ‘I have my greater power here. I am unstoppable.’

  I flexed my grip on the hilt of my sword and used my will to change our surroundings into a full oval arena with a hard dirt ground, Roman style.

  I shrugged. ‘I have great power here, too.’ I gave him a taunting smile, knowing that this would be the best way to lure him into engaging with me.

  ‘Are you going to let the human fight for you?’ he questioned my maker. ‘Are you so pathetic?’

  My angel maker tilted his head, unperturbed. ‘She is a representation of me. I see no reason why not. If you cannot defeat her, you certainly should have no right to challenge me.’ But when his eyes swung briefly to mine, I glimpsed the sadness and I understood then that, though my angel maker was entirely angel – emotionless and aloof to matters of the heart – in his own way, he cared for me.

  Sammael responded by turning his sword and leaping in my direction. Laws of gravity and force did not work the same way in this place and as much as I was able to bend this piece of the universe to my will, it was quickly apparent that Sammael could control elements of it as well.

  I spun, keeping myself grounded, remaining tactical as all of my training – first with Lincoln, then Griffin, Nyla, Rainer and Gray – came to my aid. Our swords clashed with such ferocity that sparks flew each time they collided.

  As Sammael reared his sword back to strike at my side, I raised mine to meet it and, risking a one-handed hold, took the opportunity to strike out with my free hand, hitting him hard across the face.

  He blinked from shock and stumbled back. I didn’t delay, moving forward and kicking out in an attempt to disarm him. He dodged my efforts and instead managed to slice his sword at my arm, causing a deep gash just below my shoulder.

  I winced, staggering to the side. I could feel Lincoln’s power surging through me, giving me strength even though our healing connection was not working.

  Our swor
ds rose again. Sammael’s technique was flawless as little by little I lost momentum and he gained the upper hand. When his blade sliced into my thigh I cried out, falling to one knee before I could steady myself. He didn’t hesitate to pounce, kicking me so hard across my face I first flung back then forward onto all fours as blood flowed from my mouth and I spat teeth onto the ground.

  I could feel Lincoln pacing the arena and the army of angels watching impassively while Sammael steadily beat me to death. I tried to get back onto my feet, but he kicked the side of my head with his booted foot.

  And he laughed. The laugh of madness.

  Determined, I staggered back to my feet, somehow still gripping my sword. I parried a few strikes and with all my remaining strength I swung out, my blade skimming his chest but little else. Sammael, enraged by the small incision I’d made, stormed forward in response. His sword collided with mine; the weight was like a mountain and when he drew back for another strike I knew my reaction was too slow.

  The blade burned its way through my stomach and my scream was bloodcurdling.

  I fell.

  He had bettered me. Life was pouring out of me, my mind drifting towards an inevitable end. And I was tortured to realise there was so much I had yet to do. So many things that had been put on hold. Strangely, in that moment as I struggled to find air to fill my failing lungs, I wished for a canvas, for one more chance to paint and see the world in colour.

  ‘GET. UP!’

  His voice was so strong that even in my haze, it was loud and fearsome.

  ‘GET. UP. NOW, DAMN IT!’ Lincoln bellowed.

  And then I felt it through our connection. It rocked me to my core and beyond.

  Decima had told me I could not win against Sammael if I fought with no heart. She was right. And Lincoln was showing that as he pushed everything we were, are, into me. Our strength, our purpose, our friendship, our loyalty, our passion, our loss, and most of all our love. And I realised that it couldn’t be about risking it all.

  That was the whole point.

  It was about fighting to keep it.

  Fighting for our life together, our love to go on. Fighting for our right to free will. To be human. To be flawed. To be fragile and foolhardy. To have the chance to make every mistake but then somehow learn to get it right.

  If Sammael defeated me, his sword would rise above my angel maker and all of those rights would be lost. The world would be forever changed.

  He grabbed my hair, pulling me to my knees and holding me out to the angels as a sacrifice. I remembered the way Lincoln had taught me to slow down and control my movements – to be economical and see the fight coming. I closed my eyes. I would only get one move in before my body gave out on me. My sword returned to its slightly shorter katana blade and I dropped it to the ground between my knees.

  ‘She will be your warrior no more!’ Sammael yelled.

  I breathed deeply.

  In.

  Out.

  Focused.

  He yanked my braid hard, baring my neck and his body pulled away as he drew his sword wide for the final, sweeping blow. My eyes closed, I felt his strike race towards my neck. At the final moment I dropped my head, as if in prayer, and the sword sliced through my braid, releasing me. I spun on one knee, lifting my katana as I lunged forward.

  The blade pierced Sammael’s lung, perilously close to his heart. Caught off-guard, he dropped his sword and froze.

  Keeping one hand wrapped around the hilt of my katana still lodged in his chest – not a killing blow, yet – I quickly filled my other hand and rose, my stance deceptively steady.

  Unnatural silence surrounded us as Sammael’s wide eyes watched my blade.

  ‘That is not a Grigori blade,’ he said, but his eyes did not match the confidence of his tone.

  ‘That’s true,’ I conceded, as I sharply twisted the blade. It might not have been a Grigori dagger but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch.

  ‘And it does not hold your blood,’ he growled, gaining sureness even as I continued to hold him still.

  I managed to raise a blood-filled smile. ‘That’s true, too,’ I admitted.

  Sammael’s lips twitched.

  His eyes narrowed.

  He planned his next move.

  He was already too late.

  The arm resting loosely at my side drew back and then swiftly forward, jamming Sammael’s own sword – the one that had landed at my knees – into his stomach.

  ‘You dropped something,’ I said. And he knew instantly that it was over. For he had ensured that his sword had well and truly been covered in my blood.

  Yeah, consequence is a bitch.

  And because of everything that was at stake, and just … because, I didn’t wait for him to fall, or disappear, or even be taken away by the angels. Instead, I pulled both blades back and wide and in one final show of speed and strength, I scissored them straight through his neck.

  Sammael and I fell to the ground together.

  But he would never rise again.

  CHaPteR tHIRty-fIVe

  ‘There is a certain greatness in the angels; and such power that if the angels exert it to the full, it cannot be withstood.’

  Saint Augustine

  Sammael was gone.

  Given the extent of my injuries I should have been close behind. And yet, my lungs continued to fill and my heart continued to beat.

  Lincoln skidded to the ground beside me, pulling me into his lap.

  ‘Vi, I … I … I …’ he stuttered, his trembling hands sweeping over my face frantically. ‘There’s so much blood, Vi,’ he said, his voice thick.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said, my breathing evening out. ‘I know.’

  Our powers did not work the same way in this place. He could not heal me.

  ‘We need to get you back,’ he said, looking up at the angels. ‘We need to get her back!’

  ‘Linc,’ I said softly, causing his wild eyes to come back to mine. ‘Breathe,’ I said, lifting my arm up. ‘Good.’ I smiled weakly. ‘Now, help me up.’

  He shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t move.’

  ‘It’s okay. Trust me,’ I said.

  With a furrowed brow he took my waiting arm and helped me slowly to my feet so that I could face my maker.

  ‘Are you strong enough to cross the realms?’ Lincoln asked.

  Before this moment, I would have answered no. But something had changed in me. An acceptance of everything that I am and can be. I nodded, my bloodied hand cupping his face. ‘This first,’ I said, leaning into him and pressing my lips to his.

  His kiss was gentle and powerful all at once and even as his lips trembled with his fears, his touch was sure and claimed me in every way. He pulled back, his forehead resting against mine. ‘How are you standing?’

  I smiled. ‘I’m not – you’re standing for both of us.’

  When he stared back at me in utter confusion, I turned to the angels, looking until I found him. He was mounted on a white horse in the front line, Nox beside him. ‘Tell him, Uri,’ I said, looking at my guides.

  Uri grinned – a rare display of emotion. ‘It is beyond his comprehension.’

  I laughed, grimacing as pain shot down my side. They were the same words Uri had given me the first time we’d met and I’d asked for an explanation. ‘Try,’ I suggested.

  Uri looked at Lincoln, his eyes dancing with secrets. ‘You are strong. Made of a Power. Your destinies have always been entwined. But destiny must also be chosen. It was never a matter of if, but rather when and how. Like all things of greatness, when used to cause harm your union brought devastation. You have both fought against your souls and it was as useful and painful as hiding from air when it is the very thing most fundamental to your survival.’

  Lincoln glanced at me.

  I shrugged. Grimaced. ‘He likes being cryptic.’

  ‘Comprehension is always in the eye of the beholder,’ Uri continued. Cryptically. ‘When she first came to me to emb
race I sent her on a journey and told her that even though her powers would be plenty even the greatest bringers of justice will only find salvation in …’ He looked to me.

  ‘Surrender,’ I finished, then turned to Lincoln. ‘I thought it meant giving up my life to be Grigori. That it meant fighting and surrendering to Lilith. Or even losing you. In the end I hated it that every time I saw Uri he reminded me that I still had to find my surrender even at times when I felt I’d given everything.’ I swallowed back the tears. ‘But it wasn’t about giving or sacrificing, not really. It was about letting go. Surrendering my heart. To myself and thereby, to you.’

  ‘And through your surrender, you find your salvation and your ultimate power,’ Uri said, turning to Lincoln. ‘For she may be our Keshet – our rainbow – but you are what brings her light. Why do you think you had to wait so long for her?’

  Lincoln had waited years until he was appointed his partner. Me.

  It always had to be us. Not just me. Us.

  ‘All this time, you wanted us to be together?’ Lincoln murmured.

  ‘Of course. Your power is in your balance, in your surrender to your purest emotion of love. Humans strive for love – it is the one thing they give the most and yet fear they receive the least. You are strange creatures. And yet, it is your ability to love this way that makes you capable of the extraordinary.’

  I shook my head, knowing that it would have been easier if they’d just told us all of this in the beginning, and yet I understood. It was all of the mistakes, the separation, the friendship, the fear, the determination and the love built not just on simply loving but on thousands of moments shared and missed. Our choices and our consequences are ours and could only be reached through our own journey.

  I looked at my angel maker. His eyes were lowered and his expression grave.

  ‘Why so sad?’ I asked, as Lincoln steadied me when I swayed. We had defeated Sammael. Surely he was satisfied.