“Well…I…I still don’t know much about my angel giver. My guides didn’t…wouldn’t tell me. Griffin says I may never know.”
I didn’t go into the other option Griffin and I had discussed: the possibility that I had come from an angel so high in rank that its identity could be withheld at its wish.
“I…well…My mother died giving birth to me. She was Grigori too.” I swallowed through the lump in my throat. “I have all five senses, and I can sense exiles from a long way away if I’m trying,” I said self-consciously, aware that I was editing as I went along. I hadn’t even mentioned to Lincoln and Griffin that, on a couple of occasions—the airport most recently—I’d suspected my senses extended to something else. The night Onyx and Joel had attacked at Hades was the other time I’d felt it. The only person who knew about that was Phoenix.
Salvatore moved forward in his seat, straining to understand everything I was saying. Zoe gave Spence an “I told you so” look.
“And,” I went on, “as for gifts, some of that is still a little unclear too. I seem to be able to stop exiles from a distance, put them into the kind of lock most Grigori require contact for, more than one at a time, and when I was injured and didn’t have my dagger, I…I was able to strip an exile’s powers even when he did not will it.”
Zoe, Salvatore, and Spence exchanged glances. Steph’s gaze, like mine, was flitting between them, trying to work out what they were thinking. She was nervous for me too. Spence poured the lethal concoction from the pitcher into the five shot glasses and slid one toward each of us. He looked at Zoe again, and she shrugged and grabbed hers. We all followed.
“Well,” Spence said, “fuck me.” He drank.
With one more shrug from Zoe and a sigh of relief from me, we all drank…and drank.
“For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.”
William Shakespeare
When I spotted Dapper working behind the bar, I excused myself. From the moment we’d entered Hades, I had sensed at least one exile. He wasn’t as obvious as most and I got the feeling he was trying to be inconspicuous. The others hadn’t said anything, so I wasn’t sure if they could sense him.
On my way up to the bar, I walked right past the exile. He had ginger hair and a slim frame hidden beneath a well-worn leather jacket, and he was lounging on one of the sofas. I tensed instantly, bracing for the fight that should have been guaranteed, but the exile just watched me walk by and didn’t even flinch. In fact, he didn’t seem surprised to see me at all.
By the time I reached Dapper, I was a bit stunned. “Dapper!” I called out, waving him over.
He rolled his head back and sighed when he saw me.
I leaned over the bar. This wasn’t the kind of stuff you wanted everyone to hear. He moved marginally closer after a moment.
“Have you had many exiles in here lately?” I asked.
He shrugged, moving back a bit.
“You do realize there’s one in here now?”
His eyes darted toward where I’d seen the exile.
He knew exactly who was in his bar.
“There have been a few lately,” Dapper admitted. “They don’t bring their troubles here, and I don’t cause them any either. You make sure it stays that way!” He moved back, but not before adding, “And if I catch you drinking in my place again, I’ll take pleasure in barring you.”
I gave him a sheepish grin and decided I could pick up this conversation at a later, more sober, time. “I’ll, umm…” I started retreating.
“You and your friends!” he called out after me.
Unexpectedly, I was actually starting to like Dapper. Even stranger, I had the distinct impression the feeling was mutual.
Who would have thought?
• • •
I made my way back through the press of drinkers and past the ginger-haired exile again, still sitting back, sipping his drink. I couldn’t work out why he didn’t attack. I wondered if he was playing a game or if he had sensed the other Grigori in the room and decided the odds were too strong in our favor.
Or…maybe he’s just out having a drink.
But I didn’t believe that. There was something else, something I couldn’t put my finger on.
I considered approaching him, but fear of Dapper following through on his threat had me returning to our table instead. Spence was sitting alone, throwing back another shot. When he spotted me, he wiped his mouth and smiled.
“Just in time,” he said, lining up another.
“Okay, but last one,” I said, increasingly woozy. “Have you sensed that there is at least one exile in here?” I asked.
Spence nodded. “Was just about to mention that,” he said, slurring a little himself. “You wanna hunt?”
I shook my head. “We have an agreement with the owner; no hunting on his property without life-or-death cause, and”—the part that had me so baffled—“the exile didn’t look like he was here for trouble.”
Spence shrugged. “We have a few places like that in New York. They’re called ‘Sites of Neutrality.’”
I turned around to check whether the exile was still on the sofa but couldn’t see him. I pushed my senses out and felt them drifting farther away. He’d gone.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, refocusing on our table and realizing we’d been deserted.
“Zoe’s gone to hit on the DJ. She has a thing for musicians.”
“Oh my God,” I said, laughing. “Does she realize the DJ is Steph’s brother?”
Spence, who was knocking back another shot, burst out laughing as well, spitting his drink all over himself. I jumped back to miss the splash.
“No way!” he laughed, wiping himself down. “Oh, this is so great. You couldn’t have planned it better.”
I had to agree.
“How about Steph and Salvatore?”
Spence didn’t answer; he just looked toward the dance floor, then to me.
“Good God,” I said as we gave each other a sorry nod.
Steph and Salvatore were already out there doing the dance of drunk, rhythmless monkeys. They really were a match made in heaven.
“C’mon, you need to break loose!” Spence stood and headed for the dance floor. I didn’t need asking twice. I loved dancing.
We laughed and joked and then got into the music. We were having the most fun I’d had in ages. Spence made it so easy to just relax, and I was glad to have a new friend. We danced and jumped when a new song came on that we both approved of, only making us laugh more, to learn that we shared the same taste in music.
Then I felt it.
Not all of a sudden, but slowly creeping up on me.
I should have stopped. But I was hazy from the alcohol, so I wasn’t sure—or maybe I just didn’t want to be. I looked at Spence to see if he was feeling it too. He was definitely feeling something. As I looked at him, I lost my way, remembering things I had told myself to forget—touches and sensations that had taken me away from reality and enveloped me entirely. My whole body reacted, dismissing common sense, thrilled instantly by the sense of possibility.
Enticed.
Before I knew it, Spence had me in his arms, or I had him in mine. Both, I think.
Our hips moved together and we kept dancing as we closed the distance, but I wasn’t really moving closer to him; it was someone else I was drawn toward. His lips met mine and when I kissed him back, my body exploded, electricity coursing through it, lust, lust, and…Oh…
I couldn’t control myself, couldn’t stop myself.
Spence had his hands all over me—in my hair, down my back. Farther. I tried to shut down, to find myself, even though part of me screamed to pull him closer. It took a few moments, but the second I did, I pushed him away so fast he stumbled back a few steps. When he caught his bala
nce, he looked at me, confused. He was himself again too. But I didn’t have time to explain.
I found him instantly, everything now fitting together.
I had felt him back at the hotel. I had known it deep down. I’d just tried to ignore it. I’d even felt him before things went crazy with Spence. I just wasn’t quick enough to admit it to myself.
He was sitting at the bar. Wearing all black. His dazzling hair reflecting light that was not there. Our eyes met and the corners of his mouth slowly moved up as his eyes looked past me and beyond.
I turned—but I already knew.
Lincoln stood at the edge of the dance floor, Magda beside him, sporting a similar smirk to Phoenix’s. His green eyes shone, even from this distance. He had seen the kiss. I took a step toward him, desperate to explain. All I had time to see was his drink fall to the floor, and he was gone. Magda too.
Well, if he wasn’t already in her arms, you just pushed him there, Vi.
I spun on my heels. Everything had happened in a few seconds. Spence had only just reached me.
“What was that?”
I didn’t stop to talk. I stormed right up to Phoenix. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you so screwed in the head that this is how you get your kicks? By hurting me?” I screamed.
Phoenix looked at me calmly. Patronizingly. He smiled. “I’ve missed you. Your naïvety more than anything else, I think. But that’s not to say I haven’t missed…other things.” He swept his eyes over me.
“Oh my God, you’re demented! How did you do that?”
“How does it feel, Violet, to watch someone run away from you? Shoe’s on the other foot now, isn’t it?”
Phoenix held an empty glass up toward the waitress behind the bar. The girl practically fell over herself, dodging another guy and tripping over an ice bucket on the way to top off his red wine.
Still likes red wine.
I wanted to slap myself for even having the thought.
He took a sip, and I knew it wasn’t just for show that he took a moment, savoring the taste. He always had…enjoyed experiencing human pleasures. Red wine had been one of his most valued.
“Just because our emotional bond is broken, Violet, doesn’t mean you are not susceptible to my talents. Even through another person, it seems I am strong enough to break your defenses. It is easier, of course, that you so wanted me to.”
“What? I did not!”
His smile deepened and his eyes narrowed. He leaned in closer, and with people standing all around us, I couldn’t move back. “I know you felt it, lover. I felt your memories, your longing to go where I took you. I can even feel how you want to taste my wine, knowing I’ve tasted it, to press your lips against the glass”—he rolled the stem in his fingers—“exactly where my lips have been.”
“You make me sick,” I said, and meant it, even if he was partly right.
Spence pushed up beside me. “Who’s he?”
“Phoenix,” I said, not taking my eyes off him.
“Shit,” Spence said. Apparently further explanation wasn’t required. “Do we fight?” Spence asked me. I didn’t answer. I didn’t know.
“There is nothing for you here. The bond is broken!” I carried on, as if Spence hadn’t spoken.
“Is it?” Phoenix stood up from his bar stool. Somehow he didn’t struggle to find space to move. “I told you before I left, lover, when I healed you, I gave you something.” He grinned.
I was about to yell at him again, tell him not to call me lover, when I felt a searing pain in my stomach. I screamed, the pain building so fast—faster than any I’d felt before. My hands went to my stomach as I looked at Phoenix to see if he was holding a weapon, then to my hands that were now covered in blood. My blood.
Phoenix shook his head and leaned forward. “Tsk, tsk. Did I forget to mention? I can take it back.”
That was why the pain was so familiar, so frightening. He had given me back the injury Onyx had inflicted with his sword. The injury Phoenix healed.
I swayed, Spence’s arm wrapped around me to hold me up while he screamed toward Salvatore on the dance floor.
Phoenix turned to leave. I was losing consciousness, but I heard him say to Spence, “She is intoxicating, isn’t she? I wonder, was it as good for you as it was for me?”
Then I felt the gust of wind I knew was his departure.
“I’ll ask you the same question when I run my dagger through your heart!” Spence called out too late.
I dropped to the floor as Salvatore and Steph arrived. Spence knelt down beside me, his supporting arm never leaving me.
“Violet! What’s he done? What do I do? Oh man, you’re bleeding everywhere!” he wailed.
I couldn’t answer. Black smoke played in the corners of my vision, blurring my sight. My legs, which had been prickling with pins and needles, went numb. Just as I thought I was going to pass out, somehow I sucked in a deeper breath than should have been possible. Almost instantly, I felt considerably better. I looked down and pulled up my top. The wound was closing.
“What the…? Are you doing that?” Zoe had joined us.
“No,” I answered, my hands shaking as they touched the almost-healed wound. “It’s not me. It’s Phoenix. This is the wound he healed in me a month ago. Somehow Phoenix is doing this. When he left, I…I…”
“You started to heal,” Steph finished, grabbing my hand tightly. “This is bad, Vi. Bible bad.”
Yep.
I glanced around, suddenly aware of my state in the middle of a bar. But to my surprise, no one was even looking at me bleeding to death on the ground. I scanned the area, dumbfounded. “How?”
Spence gave me one of his winks. “Glamour. No one can see you, honey. You just stay there until you’re good and ready.”
“Oh. Good one,” I said, mustering a smile despite the undeniable knot of guilt and all-round panic about what that kiss had meant to Spence.
Just to prove us wrong, Dapper came over and put out a hand. “Jesus Christ. Are you alive?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
Spence looked from Dapper to me, wide-eyed. I just hitched a shoulder.
“Good. Well, get up and stop bleeding all over my floor,” Dapper said, shaking his head. “Why are you always covered in blood?”
It was a mighty fine question.
“I knew this would happen. Bringing your damn problems into my place.” He kept shaking his head, but I was sure I could see just the slightest amount of concern as he looked down at me. “Ah hell, go upstairs. You know where everything is.” He put a hand out and pulled me to my feet. “I’ll be up when I can.”
“Should I ask?” Spence inquired as we watched Dapper stomp off.
“No.” I was simply too tired to explain.
• • •
I led the way toward the unmarked door that went upstairs. Spence stayed close the whole time, keeping a hand under my elbow. I knew it was out of kindness, in case I keeled over again and he needed to put up another glamour, but I still wanted to shake him off…just in case.
Lincoln’s gone. With Magda. She smiled. I’m sure of it.
As I felt the stirrings of a tear, I heard a chuckle I recognized from the end of the bar.
“Just when I was about to leave, the entertainment begins. Had I known, I would have arranged closer viewing.”
“Shut up, Onyx,” was all I could muster.
“Now, now. Is that any way to treat the person”—his face scrunched when he said the humanizing word—“who can enlighten you as to what just happened?” He raised his eyebrows and displayed the kind of grin that only comes with true joy.
I bit my lip and relaxed my instinctively fisted hands. “What do you know?”
“No, no, no. The first question is, what do I want? A question that has a two-part answer. Part A is a b
ottle of bourbon. Trisha behind the bar knows which one I like. Part B I will explain upstairs.” He stood and disappeared through the door without so much as a glance to see if we were in agreement.
“Shit.”
“Sal!” Spence called out. He handed my arm to Salvatore. “Help her upstairs.” He pointed to make sure he understood, and Salvatore gave a nod and smiled at me.
“Where are you going?” I asked Spence.
“To get the bottle of bourbon. I’ll meet you up there.”
I was about to argue, but what was the point? We all knew, even Steph, who already had the door open for us, that Onyx had us over a barrel.
“Come on, then.” Zoe pushed ahead, starting up the stairs. Steph glared at her, but I suspected Zoe was going first to stop her. She was protecting her, though she’d never admit it. Once again, life as a Grigori was exposing my best friend to danger.
I was beginning to understand more and more why so many chose to not tell their loved ones the truth.
“Suddenly he saw a vision of a seraph, a six-winged angel on a cross. This angel gave him the gift of the five wounds of Christ.”
G. K. Chesterton
We passed by Onyx’s apartment. The door was open and the place was empty, apart from some haphazardly scattered possessions, signs of someone who has absolutely no level of regard for anything. We kept going down the hall to Dapper’s. I walked slowly, using the time to regenerate my strength. The wound had healed, but once again, blood loss and trauma were taking their toll.
The door was open and Onyx was reclining on the couch. He had his feet up on the coffee table and seemed almost at home.
“Well?” he asked, when we all crowded through the doorway.
I wanted to turn around and walk back out. Instead, I gritted my teeth.
“Spence has gone to get your bourbon. He’ll be up in a minute,” I said, moving myself away from Salvatore’s supporting arm to stand alone.
“Good. Well, you may as well get cleaned up. As much as I like the image of you covered in blood”—the corners of his mouth twitched—“Dapper wouldn’t appreciate you ruining his lovely chaise longue.”
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