Embolden

by Syrie James

  “Well, if you do ever happen to encounter him, I trust you will let me know.”

  “Of course,” Helena replied.

  Claire just nodded.

  After putting away his phone, Zachariah folded his hands in his lap and regarded Claire for a long moment. Finally, he said, “One last thing, Claire. I like you. And I hold your grandmother in the highest esteem. She’s told me many good things about you. She insists that although your gifts are not inconsequential, you’re being carefully watched and will not become a problem. I respect her judgment and am inclined to leave you be. That said, just in case Vincent didn’t already make it clear, the bottom line is this: far too many Nephilim have been corrupted by their talents. Please don’t become one of them. Because if you do, I will have no choice but to act according to Grigori policy. I’m sure you know what that means.”

  Claire swallowed hard as fear and fury warred within her. Meeting his eyes full on, she said calmly, “I understand. Sir.”

  He stood with a smile. “Please give my regards to your mother. I regret that I didn’t get a chance to meet her.” To Helena he added, “Thank you for the tea.”

  “My pleasure. Allow me to show you out.” Helena rose, then strode to the sliding glass doors at the back of the room.

  Claire followed them uncertainly. If he was leaving, why weren’t they heading to the front door?

  Helena led the way out onto the rear balcony. To Claire’s utter shock, Zachariah bent his knees slightly, then leapt upward, rocketing into the air above. A heartbeat later, he faded completely from view.

  Claire stared, mouth agape. “Holy shit.”

  “Language, dear.” Helena looked far less impressed. “He is such a show-off.” With what looked like a smidge of envy, she added, “It must be nice, however, never to require a driver’s license.”

  “Or a pilot’s license,” Claire added.

  seven

  “He showed you that picture?” Alec made a face. “There are plenty of other photos in the Grigori archives, from decades of false passports for hundreds of countries. Why did Zachariah have to pick that one?”

  They were lying inches apart on a pair of lounge chairs they’d shoved together on the roof of Claire’s condo. A sparsely decorated garden consisting of a few potted plants and a picnic/barbecue area, this place had served as their private meeting spot for the past few months. It was cold by Southern California standards, but not windy, and a few stars and constellations dotted the inky sky.

  Claire turned on her side and stared at him. “Are you kidding? I just told you all about my afternoon from hell, and you’re complaining about the picture?”

  “I look like a zombie hippie in that photo.”

  “You do not. I think you looked hot. Sort of a cross between a grunge rocker and Shakespeare.”

  “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m keeping my hair short for now.”

  “Let’s hope if he spots you, he doesn’t recognize you.”

  “Aye.”

  Claire lay back down and looked skyward, heaving a sigh. “I’ve always felt safe until now, meeting you up here, where we can really talk without my mom or grandma or anyone else listening in. But are we safe?”

  “What? You mean, because of Zachariah?”

  “Alec, he’s a Watcher. Who can turn invisible! And can freaking fly! He could be hiding in plain sight anytime, anywhere, and suddenly appear and slap handcuffs on you! How do we know he’s not here, right this very minute?”

  “We know because, to remain invisible, he’d have to use his powers.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh! Right. And if he’s using his powers, you can see his aura.”

  “Like a bright yellow beacon. You can see his aura, too,” Alec reminded her. “It’s been awhile since you practiced. Do you remember how?”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “Good. We can both keep a lookout for him, then, at school or wherever.”

  She blew out a long, worried breath. “Great. Now we have to be on our guard every minute. How are you not freaking out about this, Alec? A ‘good guy’ Watcher is on the hunt for you, while the psycho Watcher is in angel jail, and might tell everyone where you are.”

  “Welcome to my every day. Since the moment I left the fold last year, I’ve been looking over my shoulder. But I can’t just stay locked inside all the time. Only difference now is that I’m also looking out for you.”

  “Join the crowd. I have a brand-new, invisible friend who’s watching and just waiting for me to screw up so he can kill me.”

  “Don’t screw up, then.” He smiled. “Which I suppose is easier said than done. I’m sure you’ll at least be tempted. There’s a lot the Fallen can offer you.”

  “Nothing I want.”

  “They could probably tell you why they kidnapped your father. And where he is right now,” Alec countered.

  “So? We’ll figure that out without the Fallen’s help. Helena’s already meditating on Brian’s aura theory. Literally.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Speaking of Vincent,” Claire said. “It worries me that he’s in custody. What if he rats you out?”

  “I don’t think he will. At least not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m his Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card. If his trial goes south, he can always tell the Elders where I am in exchange for a full pardon.”

  “Oh.” Claire nodded and briefly looked relieved. Then she said, “Wait. Would they do that? Set him free just for throwing you to the wolves?”

  “Dunno. They don’t have a history of being forgiving. But it’s possible, and an angle he’s likely to try.” Alec rolled onto his back and stared up at the dark sky. “To truly guarantee Vincent’s punishment, I’d have to turn myself in to Zachariah now and hope he’ll go easy on me.”

  “Like hell!” Claire was horrified by the very thought.

  He looked at her again. “If I explained everything I did to help you and Helena, he might show mercy. If Zachariah argued for my safe return, Vincent would go away for sure, and maybe the Elders would be pardoning me.”

  Alec saw Claire holding her breath. “But even if you were miraculously pardoned,” she managed, “that means you’d be a Watcher again. They’d take you away. You’d go back to murdering—”

  “Neutralizing.”

  “—the Fallen bad apples. And we’d never see each other again.” Her voice broke on the last few words.

  Alec squeezed her hand, trying to ignore the pain that suddenly seared through his chest. “Aye. But then you’d be safe. And so would all the innocents out there who those bad apples might hurt.”

  Claire looked at him. “Oh my God. You’re actually serious about this? About going back?”

  Do I tell her? Now’s as good a time as any. Alec struggled to find the right words. “I admit, it’s something I’ve been thinking about. I can’t help wondering, is it selfish of me to be hiding out here?”

  He saw tears leak from the corners of Claire’s eyes but resisted the impulse to take her in his arms. He felt bad that he’d made her cry, but having done so, didn’t think he had the right to comfort her.

  It took her a long time to respond. Finally, drying her cheeks, she said, “I get it, Alec. You’re a Watcher. Born and bred to help people. And I’m just one person. But you did your job for so long, and went to so much trouble to leave it, you’ve earned the right to a break. I don’t think it’s selfish to do what’s best for yourself once in a while.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, I don’t.” Claire slid close to Alec on his adjoining lounge chair and laid her head on his chest, wrapping her free arm around him. His arm instantly tightened around her in response.

  “Besides,” she went on, “if you hadn’t been what you call ‘selfish,’ I would’ve been squishe
d by scaffolding, murdered by Vincent, or ground into were-cougar chow.”

  Alec relished the warmth of Claire’s body against his. “I suppose so.”

  With a tremor in her voice, she added, “Although if I’m totally honest, I guess it is kind of selfish to keep you all to myself. But I don’t care! I love you. I want you to be safe, and to stay here with me. Forever.”

  “So do I. I love you, too. And I don’t want to leave you. Ever.” He meant every word. He just hoped his tone didn’t betray the sense of guilt that still gnawed at him. He bent his head to hers, and their lips met.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Claire murmured when they parted. “You can’t come here anymore. It’s not safe. Zachariah could check on me anytime, and if he recognizes you, you’re toast.”

  “I know. I was going to say the same thing. We need a new rendezvous spot. Maybe my place?”

  Her eyes rolled. “Sure. Mom will totally be cool with that.”

  “Where, then?”

  Claire paused, then looked at him tentatively. “I have an idea. You know about the school musical, right? Camelot?”

  “I know Erica won’t shut up about it.”

  “Yeah, well, auditions are tomorrow, and she said I should try out. But if I do, and if I get in, I’ll hardly ever get to see you. I mean, she said rehearsals eat up all your free time for months. So I was thinking, if you and I both try out and get into the play, it’d be a way to spend time together after school that’s totally sanctioned by Mom and away from Zachariah’s prying eyes.”

  “A school play?” Alec mulled that over. “I dunno. I’ve never acted before.”

  “Are you kidding me? All those roles you played as a Watcher? You’ve done nothing but act for over a hundred years!”

  “Hmmph,” Alec replied.

  “With your voice, you are a slam dunk to get one of the leads.”

  “You’re not such a bad singer yourself,” he shot back at her, teasing.

  “So, should we do it? I mean, I’m only trying out if you do.”

  “Let me sleep on it.”

  “Okay.”

  Alec leaned in and kissed her good-bye. “Good night.”

  “You’re not leaving already?” Claire protested.

  “Don’t want to start World War III with your mom.” He smiled affectionately into her hazel eyes. “Hey. Before I leave, want to go for a spin?”

  A grin spread across Claire’s face. “Um. Yes?”

  Alec stood, helped Claire to her feet, and they tightened their arms around each other. “Ready? Here we go.”

  With deep concentration, he wrapped his mind around their bodies and lifted them a few feet into the air, spinning slowly as they hovered above the rooftop.

  After that, the only thing that enveloped his mind was the feel of her lips against his.

  Auras. Claire knew they weren’t hard to spot if you’d learned how (and if you had some Grigori blood in you). Alec had once told Claire it was like looking at a 3-D picture. You just focused really hard, looking slightly past the thing, until you could see the image hidden within.

  Assuming there was something hidden.

  School had just ended. Claire was standing on the landing halfway up the hill where the four stairways met. That morning, Alec had agreed to the whole Camelot idea, and auditions started in ten minutes.

  Which gave her a few minutes to study the people hurrying by. Every time she passed this spot, the hair on the back of her neck stood up with memories of the attack last fall. Now Zachariah had given her another reason to be nervous.

  Gathering all her mental energy, Claire focused on the parking lot below, staring at the cars and the people, trying to see evidence of a hidden aura.

  Nothing there. Claire was about to turn her attention to another area when a hand suddenly clapped on her shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Hey.” It was Erica’s voice. “Thanks for waiting for me. Where’s Alec?”

  Claire whirled, gathering her thoughts. “His physics class was last track today and right above the theater, so I asked him to save us seats.”

  “You look nervous,” Erica pointed out. “Why?”

  “Zachariah.” Claire had told Erica about her unexpected visitor. “What if he secretly crashes the audition and sees Alec?”

  “I’m sure your new invisible stalker has better things to do than hang around our high school all day, or listen to us belt show tunes for two hours.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Of course I’m right. So why do you still look nervous?”

  “Because. This play thing is new and kind of scary.”

  “Oh, please. You have singing superpowers, remember?” Claire noticed a flicker of something in Erica’s eyes that looked like—what, anxiety? But the look was gone in a blink, replaced by a smile. “So grow a pair, Claire Bear. Theatrics await!”

  Claire wondered if Erica was as nervous as she was. To bolster her friend’s confidence in return, Claire replied, “After you, Your Highness.”

  Erica’s face lit up, but she gave Claire a pointed look. “I’m not Guinevere yet.”

  The auditions went decently. Or seemed to. Claire, Erica, and Alec sat with about forty other students in the first seven rows of velveteen theater seats, watching each other mount the stage one by one to sing the short solos they’d prepared. Claire tried to send Neil an encouraging smile, but he never looked her way.

  When her turn came, Claire handed her sheet music for Guinevere’s first lament, “The Simple Joys of Maidenhood,” to the accompanist at the piano, then took her place center stage. Her heart hammering, she tried to ignore the sea of faces staring back at her from below. But her eyes caught Alec’s.

  You’ve got this, Alec seemed to be saying with his silent smile.

  Since they’d only agreed to try out at the last minute, Claire hadn’t had any time to rehearse. With no previous theater experience, she didn’t have any hopes beyond getting a part in the chorus. Still, she didn’t want to totally embarrass herself. She’d heard the song plenty of times and knew the words. But even though she’d inherited the Grigori ability to (supposedly) sing any song off the cuff, on cue, and in perfect key, she didn’t quite trust it.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” declared a strong female voice from a seat at the center of the audience. Ms. Donnelly, the theater teacher, was a wiry, attractive woman in her early fifties, with a shock of auburn hair that matched her vibrant personality. The music teacher, Mr. Lang, and dance teacher, Mrs. Frank, sat beside her taking notes.

  The music began. Claire took a deep breath and began to sing. At first, it was like she was on autopilot, tensely going through the motions. But as the song progressed, she felt her nerves melting away and soon realized she was enjoying herself as much as she did in every Concert Singers performance. This time, though, there was no choir to hide behind. When she’d finished, everyone applauded. She dashed back to her seat, where Alec squeezed her hand, and Erica gave her a thumbs-up, and whispered her favorite quote from American Beauty, “Honey, I’m so proud of you. You didn’t screw up once!”

  The handful of students who followed gave respectable but unmemorable auditions. Then Erica’s name was called.

  “Break a leg,” Alec and Claire whispered.

  Erica exchanged a few words with the pianist and took the stage with a confident air. The song she’d chosen, “I Loved You Once in Silence,” was one of Guinevere’s most heartbreaking and melodious. Erica delivered it beautifully and with a regal flair.

  “You nailed it!” Claire said when Erica returned to her seat, her face shining with satisfaction and relief.

  Neil was up next. He gave a stunning rendition of King Arthur’s song, “How to Handle a Woman,” a performance filled with emotion and nuance that perfectly showcased both his voice and his acti
ng abilities. He left the stage with a smile to generous applause.

  Claire knew, though, that the best was yet to come. She waited breathlessly until, at last, it was Alec’s turn. As he sang Lancelot’s “If Ever I Would Leave You,” the theater filled with a kind of energy and excitement that hadn’t existed before. Alec had the most beautiful voice Claire had ever heard. A voice like an angel, she’d thought the first time she’d heard him sing, all those months ago in the theater stairwell (unaware at the time that it was true in more ways than one). His green eyes found Claire’s and rested there with a look that nearly made her heart stop, as he sang the final line:

  No, never could I leave you at all!

  Claire couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the deeper meaning the lyrics held, after their conversation on the roof the other night. You’re damn right you’re not leaving me, Claire thought, joining in the enthusiastic whistles and applause that followed.

  As they headed for the junior parking lot after auditions were over, Erica said, “Alec, you totally blew us away! You’re Lancelot for sure.”

  “Let’s not count chickens,” he shrugged as he opened his car door. “Neil has a great voice, and there were a couple of other guys who could do it.”

  “The part’s yours,” Erica told him. “I can feel it.”

  “And you’re a slam dunk for Guinevere,” Claire insisted.

  Erica’s smile was genuinely nervous as she fished out her car keys. “Shhhhh. Don’t jinx it!”

  “Did Ms. Donnelly say when she’s posting the cast list?” Claire asked.

  “Honey, she’ll have callbacks for the leads before she casts it.”

  “Callbacks?” Claire repeated in surprise.

  “Of course. This was just the first round to weed out the tone-deaf,” Erica explained. “At callbacks, she has people read as well as sing.”

  Claire looked from Erica to Alec. “You mean, you guys have to do this all over again?”

  Erica let out a short laugh. “What do you mean, you guys? Claire, you have a shot at Guinevere, too.”