I crossed my arms and made no move, but Onyx just smiled and made a walking motion with two of his fingers.
“It’s all right, Violet. We’ll watch him,” Zoe said, stepping closer to Onyx. There was little I could do. He was in control—for now. After giving Zoe a quick nod, I served Onyx a foul look and stormed off to the bathroom, pulling Steph along with me.
Steph let loose as soon as the door clicked.
“Vi, is this a good idea? He…He’s the one that…You know…”
I did know. Unfortunately, I’d had more than a vivid reminder of what Onyx had done to me when he impaled me with his sword, nearly killing me. Knowing now that Phoenix appeared to have the ability to reinstate the wounds—the terror—at any time was…I swallowed and clenched my jaw.
Hold it together, Vi.
There are moments in life where there is nothing you can do. Information lands in your lap and you just want to scream and scream until there is only emptiness. It’s when I feel like that that I know I have to close down, shut it out, compartmentalize. Like now.
“I remember, Steph. But if he knows something…” I picked a spot on the floor, a crack in one of the dark gray tiles, and focused on it. I studied the hairline and its jagged edges as I tried desperately to block the flow. I refused to open my mind to everything that was going on. To Phoenix, Onyx, the possibilities of what might happen. Worse, right now, opening myself would only start the stampede on my heart—Lincoln.
It’s always Lincoln. He’ll never forgive me.
The last time I’d been in this bathroom, we’d almost…
Every time we get close, somehow it’s ruined.
I jumped when my phone started ringing and fumbled as I fished it out of my blood-soaked pocket.
“Hello?” Then, remembering that Spence had diverted the house phone to my cell, I quickly added, “Eden residence.”
“Hi, honey. Just calling to check in before you go to bed.”
I could hear fingers tapping away on a computer, probably Dad sending emails. He always left them till the end of his day, or night, I should say.
“Hey, Dad,” I emphasized, looking at Steph, who nodded, understanding instantly. “How’s your trip going?” I asked, trying to keep a steady, low voice so it didn’t echo too much in the bathroom.
Steph moved silently and put an ear to the door, checking that no one else was going to barge in.
“Lunches and dinners with clients every day. It’s driving me up the wall, but it has to be done. Anything happening there? Is Steph staying over?”
“Um…Yeah. Well, no. I mean, no, nothing’s happening and yes, Steph is staying over. We’re just doing the usual. Pizza and movies,” I said, trying hard to recapture some composure after such a rocky start.
“Sounds good, honey,” Dad went on, oblivious to any problem. “Listen, I’ve got to get going. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Sure, Dad.”
He hung up. I looked down at my phone and pressed the end button. “Love you too.”
Although I knew it was irrational, at that moment, I was angry with him—for not knowing me, who I was, what I was going through. I knew it was unfair, that it was me who hadn’t told him, but all the same…Why can’t he hear the fear in my voice? Sense the way my world had changed? I had to sense things every day for the rest of my life, which would possibly be a very long time, and all I wanted was for him to be able to sense me. Just me.
“Vi, you okay?” Steph asked, watching me as she quietly moved to the sink and started rinsing blood from a towel we’d been using. She wrung it out and motioned gently to me to continue mopping up. Without a change of clothes, it was the only option, but it was pretty useless.
I wiped away the tear that had escaped down my cheek.
“Fine,” I said in response. “Just…” But I didn’t have an explanation. There was a lot going on. I couldn’t put the feelings of desperation and foreboding and all-round sick-to-the-gut sensation into words.
I spotted a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door and grabbed it. I pulled off my T-shirt. I didn’t bother with my jeans.
“Hey,” I said, trying to rally as much as I could, “do you think you could rinse this out and throw it in the dryer? I saw a laundry room back down the hall a bit.”
Steph took the T-shirt and looked at me, unconvinced. “I know what you’re doing. You can’t deal with everything on your own, Vi.” She adjusted her focus down to the bloodied top in her hands. “I know you think I shouldn’t be involved in this stuff, but here’s the thing: you made your choice when you told me the truth. Now I’ve made mine. You’re my best friend, Vi. Don’t push me out because I’m not all ‘super.’ We stick together. That’s that.”
Steph’s expression looked so adamant but also…desperate. It wasn’t just me who had a lot on the line. This world that I was now stuck in mattered to her too. In her own way, she was just as stuck as me. We’re best friends, after all—where one goes, the other follows.
“I don’t want to see you hurt,” I admitted.
She smiled wryly. “How about you just worry about yourself?”
I smiled back. She could be right.
She bundled the T-shirt and the worst of the bloody towels together. “I’ll go take care of these.” She paused at the door, as if she couldn’t help herself, and turned back to me, a small twinkle in her eye. “Did you see all those books in the hallway?”
I wondered when she’d mention she’d just entered a version of geek heaven.
• • •
What was I doing?
What I wanted to do—badly—was run. I knew deep down that this was all my fault. Letting myself get close to Phoenix in the first place, letting myself believe that he was good, that he cared.
No. I’m more culpable than that. I let him believe that I was good.
I sucked in a few deep breaths and avoided looking at myself in the mirror.
Am I just as guilty as Phoenix?
Looking back, he probably never cared for me. He just wanted to control me, have me as some kind of trophy. But had I been any better?
Running was what had gotten me into this mess. Running from becoming Grigori, from my feelings for Lincoln, from the truth about my mother. It had all led me to Phoenix. I couldn’t run anymore. And quitting wasn’t an option. I couldn’t even hide. I was out in the open and Phoenix could find me anywhere.
He was a predator and…
I was his prey.
• • •
When I was confident the red blotches on my face had settled enough, I headed back out to where everyone was waiting. Spence had returned with a bottle of bourbon in hand. He, along with everyone else in the room, cracked a smile when they saw me wrapped in the gigantic bathrobe. Everyone, that is, except Dapper, who had also made it upstairs.
“Oh great,” he snorted. “Just make yourself at home. Can I get you some slippers as well?”
I could see Zoe and Spence shaking, holding back laughter, and I had to look away from them. Crazy how even when things are life or death, friends can make you see a funny side.
“Sorry, Dapper. You’ve been really kind. Steph is just washing my top, and while we talked, I thought she could try and dry it. It won’t take long.”
He grunted and made for his minibar.
He threw a glass out toward Onyx, who caught it easily. It made me wonder if Onyx and Dapper were becoming friends, the way they seemed to comfortably ignore one another but still be in some kind of weird sync.
Onyx set about opening his bottle of bourbon and pouring himself a drink. “Thank you for this. I won’t be offering any of you a drink.”
Not that anyone wanted one—well maybe Zoe…and Spence—but Onyx’s words were a clear reminder of how much he hated us.
Dapper, however, finally cracked a smile. He grabb
ed a stash of small Coke bottles from his fridge and started offering them around.
Once we were all seated and Onyx had downed two large glasses of bourbon, he looked up at us all and there it was, the old Onyx. A part of him, anyway. It sent a shiver down my spine to see him come alive. This was his favorite thing to do, tell stories of doom, and in particular my doom. It made me uneasy to remember the way he got such a thrill out of seeing other people’s pain.
“It’s a consolation prize I had not considered. Poetic really, that we’ve all potentially destroyed each other. Don’t you think, Violet? That you destroyed Phoenix’s humanity by teasing it out of him in the first place, that my attempt to eliminate you released your discovery of power, which in turn curtailed my greatness, leaving me with detestable humanity. That now I may still—indirectly, obviously—be the cause of your downfall through Phoenix himself. How deliciously bittersweet.”
“Onyx,” Dapper said sternly, “tell them what you know or leave them be.”
Onyx paused, but only momentarily, to consider Dapper before his smile returned. “Dapper, I am glad you are here. The second part of my condition involves you.”
“Here we go,” said Dapper, rolling his eyes.
“As I have already mentioned, I was prepared to leave, but it appears things have just…taken a turn. I will tell you what I know…some of what I know,” he corrected, turning his smile on me, “in exchange for ongoing accommodation.”
Onyx poured himself another large bourbon, the sound of ice cubes clinking the only noise to fill the uncomfortable silence in the room. Spence, Zoe, and Salvatore tried to look busy staring at their Cokes. Even Steph, who had just walked back into the room, knew now was not the time for comment.
I looked at Dapper, who had picked up a cloth and was rubbing down the already clean minibar.
The quiet stretched.
“You have to work for your keep,” Dapper finally said, not looking up.
“No,” Onyx said quite simply. I could hear the glee in his voice. “But you can’t deny, Dapper, you don’t altogether mind my company.”
Dapper blushed.
Please!
“Two weeks,” Dapper said, curt as ever, then looked over to me. “And you owe me.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Well”—Onyx clapped his hands—“aren’t we all just so civilized? It’s a new thing for me, granted, but entertaining in its own peculiar way,” he marveled.
“Onyx! You’re wasting time. Tell me what’s going on,” I snapped, clenching my fists.
“Yes. Of course. You want to get back to your shadow-finder—you do like to torture him. I admire that.” He stood up and started to flounce around the room. I knew he was talking about Lincoln. By this point, I just wanted to smash his face into the wall, and from the expression on Zoe’s face, I wasn’t the only one. I didn’t look at Spence. I couldn’t meet his eyes right now, and Salvatore had moved over to stand with Steph. She was whispering to him, translating, I guessed.
“I have only ever seen it once before. A powerful weapon, though not many of us are willing to take the risk…or the bond.” His nose wrinkled at something. “I wasn’t even sure what it was or what its importance was when I came across it. It was more speculation than anything…Though after seeing what I saw tonight, it now seems very believable.” He sighed. Typical warm-up. “It was in the thirteenth century. A young Grigori-turned-spiritual leader. Some even thought him to be the first, and only, Grigori to ever be graced with true vision. Of course, for exiles, his fame made him a particularly important prize, and though he was often guarded and deceptively powerful, one exile found a way to get to him.”
Onyx looked at each of us one by one, enjoying that we had no idea what he was talking about. “The exile appeared to the Grigori as a vision, used his imagination to put him in a state of confusion, and then inflicted wounds that he found”—the corners of his mouth curled—“appropriately amusing. Afterward, the exile healed the Grigori and let him go under the belief that he had received a spiritual connection with a heavenly power when in actual fact…” He trailed off as he motioned a hand toward me. I’d forgotten he liked audience participation.
I swallowed nervously. “He’d done whatever Phoenix has done to me.”
Onyx nodded. “All that had been achieved was an ongoing physical bond between the Grigori and the exile. The exile, of course, planned to use this new power to help turn the tides, but unfortunately, it was not to be. When the Grigori discovered the deceit, he would not succumb to the exile’s demands and endured the pains of the wounds each time they were reinflicted. It was a harder time then. Religious types were less malleable than they are today.” Another deliberate sigh.
I shook my head involuntarily.
“It had been an ambitious tactic and, if it had worked, would have been an awesome weapon. Even in its limited version, it was.”
“Why?” I asked, feeling my throat tightening.
“Because it still led to the Grigori’s death in the end. His injuries gradually drained his powers and the very life from him.”
Steph took a step forward. “The thirteenth century?”
Onyx raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” he said suspiciously, looking at Steph as if noticing her for the first time. I imagined in his exile days, Onyx would not have believed in interactions with straight humans, other than for sport.”
“You’re talking about Saint Francis of Assisi, aren’t you? He died after suffering five brutal wounds for just over two years.” Steph looked at me, sickly green. “He bore the stigmata.” Her eyes were welling.
Onyx was perplexed, as was everyone in the room apart from me. Steph wasn’t an out-and-proud brainiac. Onyx clearly hadn’t expected someone to spoil his story’s denouement.
“Aren’t you a very clever human?” he sneered.
“Hang on,” started Zoe. “This sounds like a load of shit to me. The stigmata? The wounds of the crucifixion? Violet doesn’t have those.”
“No, she has my wounds,” Onyx said proudly. “They’re just another version. Assisi’s wounds were symbolically inflicted on him first, just as Violet’s were, and then healed. By healing the wounds, the exile effectively gives a piece of his immortality to the victim, in this case Grigori, and as Phoenix demonstrated, what one giveth, one may also taketh away.” Onyx raised his arms and all but took a bow.
“Oh my God,” I whispered to myself. “He’s going to kill me.”
Slowly.
Onyx heard me. “It appears the likely outcome,” he said, as he lounged back into the sofa, content.
“We kill the Phoenix first. Si?” Salvatore asked and Steph nodded.
“You could try. It might work.”
“You lie,” Salvatore said, watching Onyx then turning to Zoe. “He lies.”
“What aren’t you telling us?” Zoe demanded.
“Two Armani shirts, one white with pinstripe, the other charcoal. Slim fit. And”—he ran a hand over his chin—“an electric shaver. An expensive one.”
“How about I just ram my fist into your face until you tell us everything you know?” Spence suggested, taking a few exaggerated steps toward Onyx.
“Don’t bother with that, lad,” said Dapper. “He’d be happy enough for you to finish him off. You won’t get anywhere that way.”
Spence looked at me, but even now, I still couldn’t quite bring myself to look back.
“I’ll give them to you tomorrow,” I said in a daydream.
“Do you think your Lincoln will ever forgive you?” Onyx asked.
“What? He…Phoenix did this. It wasn’t me. Lincoln will…He’ll understand,” I said, stumbling over the words that I had been trying to tell myself since I saw him walk out of Hades.
“I didn’t mean about tonight—though it cannot help your cause.”
I swallowed
hard. It wasn’t the first time since I’d embraced that Onyx had raised this question. The last time was right before he stabbed me.
“Ah. I see. Worrying you too? A big thing, that one. Even those with the best intention, the greatest of forbidden love, can struggle to accept another getting to the prize before they do.”
“Shut up, Onyx,” Dapper said. Strangely, Onyx seemed to respond and moved on.
I gave Dapper a thankful glance. I didn’t really want to have to explain to the entire room that Onyx was referring to the fact that I’d slept with Phoenix and that had made Lincoln…unhappy.
“Very well. Phoenix has a physical connection to you now. Not only can he bring back the wounds that I so savagely delivered, he is also the very thing that holds off their recurrence. If something were to happen to Phoenix, if he was killed, or, as you like to call it, ‘returned’…Well…” He laid his hands wide.
“I die.”
“It seems inexorably probable.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Steph said as Spence and Zoe swore.
“This one—not good,” said Salvatore, shaking his head.
Dapper remained silent.
Onyx smiled, enjoying his version of applause until his eyes fixed on mine. My chest tightened and every breath felt suddenly numbered.
We looked at each other, and in that brief moment, when his eyes couldn’t quite hold mine, we shared the truth silently between us.
It wasn’t just probable.
If Phoenix died—I died.
“A thought, even a possibility, can shatter and transform us.”
Friedrich Nietzsche
I hoped a morning of painting would help—give me some perspective or at least let me escape for a couple of hours. But I couldn’t even concentrate for long enough to mix the right colors in my double period of art first thing.
He’d told me he loved me once. It was hurried and perhaps only part of a game to him, trying to get me away from Lincoln. I guess it had worked. I’d never felt so isolated before.
Now, again thanks to Phoenix, I was sure of my own demise.
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