Entice

by Jessica Shirvington

  Lincoln had to coax me awake when we landed. I was surprised that I hadn’t woken up when we touched down.

  “Where are we?” I asked, groggy.

  “Jordan. You slept through the refuel,” Lincoln said.

  I guess I was more exhausted than I’d realized.

  “Did you get any sleep?” I asked, taking big gulps of water, sure I had awful morning breath.

  He gave a small shake of his head. “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t dreaming, though.” He smoothed my hair down at the back.

  I must have looked hideous.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, smiling.

  “Ha ha.”

  “You do. You’re most beautiful just after you’ve woken up. It’s always my favorite time, when we go for a run in the morning and I get to see you first thing.” He kept playing with my hair.

  I got the feeling he was relishing saying these things out loud. Liberated. There were a lot of things I wished I could say out loud.

  But I couldn’t. So I hit him in the arm instead and he laughed.

  Zoe and Salvatore were hauling bags out of the cargo area when we headed down the stairs.

  “’Bout time you two joined us. We aren’t your packhorses, you know,” Zoe said, stomping around and tossing bags to Salvatore. I think she was actually aiming for a very sensitive area.

  “Ah…Zoe, we didn’t bring any bags with us,” I said, throwing her a bitch smile Steph would have been proud of.

  “We packed for you!” She catapulted a duffel bag at my head so fast I had to duck.

  Lincoln caught it. “Easy, Zoe,” he said, catching the second bag that came zooming toward us, but he was laughing.

  Nyla and Rudyard walked past with their bags, and Griffin was soon loading everyone’s luggage into the minibus waiting on the tarmac.

  Lincoln carried both of our bags and we headed out of the plane, but as soon as I hit the outside air, I felt something strange. Not strange, exactly. It was the senses, but they were…raw!

  Apple sliced into my tongue. I dropped Lincoln’s hand, which had somehow ended up in mine again.

  “Vi?” I heard him say before the birds circled so close to me I could practically feel them swoop, and the branches were whipping so maniacally I was sure they were lashing me.

  My hands were at my face, trying to stave off the overpowering scent of flowers, like fleshy stems left in water long after they had perished, and I tried to hold back the intense visions of morning and evening as they melted in and out of each other, working with the cool heat that now flowed through me, ice for bones and lava for blood.

  Someone was dragging me back into the plane.

  “Violet. It’s me.” He held me tightly from behind and spoke right into my ear. “I’m here. I’m going to help you. Give the senses to me,” he said smoothly. “Okay?”

  I couldn’t answer, I could only scream, but Lincoln wasn’t waiting, anyway. He spun me in his hands and—as he’d done once before—crashed through the senses, finding his way to me through a kiss. It happened quicker this time than it had before. We knew what we could do together; we trusted it. We trusted each other.

  I fed the senses to him, and one by one, they moved through me, into him, and beyond. My vision returned. I could breathe in Lincoln’s sunbaked smell, that hint of honey that came when he was using his power on me, and taste his lips on mine.

  He pulled me close and kissed my cheek. “I got you,” he whispered, sounding drained.

  “Do I have really bad breath?” I asked shakily, saying the first thing that came to mind.

  He gave a low chuckle that sounded a lot like relief. “All I could taste was apple,” he reassured me. I was pretty certain he was lying, but I squeezed him tight.

  “Something’s out there.” I couldn’t hold back the tremble in my voice.

  “I gathered. Exiles?”

  “Exile,” I clarified. “And not like anything I’ve felt before.” And yet, the moment I said it aloud, I couldn’t stop the feeling I wasn’t entirely right. I had felt something similar before—I just had no idea when or where. I shivered.

  “It was old. When the senses hit me, it felt like they were only meant for me. Did you feel anything?”

  “No, not until I was feeling them through you.”

  “None of us did,” said Nyla, who was standing back a bit with the others.

  “But I know what you mean,” Lincoln said, still holding me. “They had an edge to them.”

  “Yeah, like the senses had been locked away for a really long time, like they’d built up all this pressure and had gotten old and musty. When they reached me, they just exploded.”

  Nyla looked at Rudyard. They were worried. Not a good sign.

  “Violet, we need to get to the hotel. We can’t defend ourselves here. Can you try going outside again?” Nyla asked, as Rudyard pushed the others ahead.

  I looked at Lincoln nervously.

  “I won’t leave your side.” He took my shaking hand, holding it firm to give me strength.

  I nodded.

  “Come on!” called Griffin from the tarmac, holding open the doors to the minibus.

  We all headed out, Lincoln on one side of me, Nyla on the other, but this time when I walked outside, it was different.

  “Nothing,” I said, though I couldn’t relax.

  “Keep your defenses up, just in case,” Nyla said.

  Once we were all piled into the minibus, we started making our way to the hotel.

  Salvatore leaned over his seat in front of me and passed me a bottle of water.

  “Thanks,” I said, even though I wished he hadn’t. My hands were shaking badly and now everyone could see.

  Lincoln sat back a bit, giving me space. He knew not to smother me when I was like this, that I hated feeling like I was too weak to look after myself. Nyla didn’t do the same, but the death stare she got when she started patting my arm stopped her in her tracks.

  Honestly, I’m not a dog.

  “Where are we going, anyway?” I asked as we drove past a sign saying Amman, keen to move the focus of attention away from me. I knew they were all waiting for answers, but I didn’t have them and I was starting to feel claustrophobic.

  Griffin turned to face us from the front where he was studying a map with Rudyard.

  “We’re going to a Grigori safe house in the mountains, outside the city of Madaba. Grigori own hotels all over the world, like the one where Nyla and Rudyard are staying. It’s the safest place for us, but—”

  “Here we go,” Zoe said, voicing exactly what I was thinking.

  “—they are a different breed of Grigori. This is a sacred place and the local Grigori see themselves as guardians of the land. You will have to try and understand and respect their ways; otherwise, they will not help us.”

  “I am not understanding,” Salvatore said, sitting forward in his seat. “This different breeding?”

  I did. “Religious, right?”

  “Devout,” Griffin said.

  “Okay,” Salvatore said, nodding as he pulled a chain out from under the collar of his shirt. Somehow, I doubted a small gold cross was going to make much difference.

  As the conversation petered out, I turned my attention to the army guy driving the minibus and another army officer, a female, sitting next to him. They had a pretty full-on commando look—the guy big and scary, the girl smaller but compensating with a serious armory hanging off her. They had the don’t-even-look-at-me message sounding loud and clear.

  Lincoln was talking with Salvatore. Well, trying. Zoe looked back and caught me staring at the commando guy.

  “Nice, huh? I got dibs,” she whispered.

  “You can have him, but what’s the deal? How come they’re helping us?”

  She put her feet up on the seat in front and
popped a few M&M’s, which she had dug out of her backpack, into her mouth.

  “Rudyard told them exiles were tampering with their aircraft. There are Grigori all through the military.”

  “Why?”

  “You need to read a book or something! They figured out a long time ago that exiles would go for the power jobs, and one way to get there is to go through the army ranks. Plus, that’s how they can get their hands on all the fun toys. Anyway, it draws too much attention when civilians like you and me run in with daggers raised, so Grigori have people stationed within all military sectors, who deal with exiles along the way. Cool, huh?”

  “I guess,” I said, gripping the handrail as we drove over a bumpy patch.

  “What’s the plan once we get there?” Lincoln called out to Griffin.

  “We need to talk with the local Grigori. They’re expecting us, but they don’t know exactly why. We thought it best to keep everything as quiet as possible until we were here. This is a big thing. Where we want to go is a sacred place. It may not be easy.”

  Like any of this ever is!

  • • •

  We reached the city of Madaba and kept driving through. I’d never been to Jordan before; I’d never really been anywhere. It was fascinating. I pushed down the window the tiny amount it would allow. Searing heat blasted through the opening, dry and crisp. The town was busy and not what I would have expected. The streets were full of cars and small trucks that were open at the back with locals sitting on the edges, feet dangling. The whole city was the color of desert sand, all the buildings stone or concrete and not more than a few stories high. Every now and then, we would pass something more modern, made of brick—usually a hotel—but they just looked out of place.

  Everything was kind of monochrome. Even the signage was predominantly dark brown with white words written in Arabic and some other languages I didn’t recognize. The only ones in plain English? The bright red Coca-Cola signs.

  “Madaba is famous for its mosaics,” Rudyard said, looking back at us. “There is an entire school here dedicated to restoring and preserving the mosaic discoveries that have been made in recent history.”

  I love mosaics. I’d done a study on them in art last year. Somehow, though, I was betting we wouldn’t be doing much sightseeing.

  We drove on in silence, but as we reached the edge of the city, I tasted apple. Oddly, I didn’t feel the other senses. I looked out the window, trying to see what or who I was sensing. We drove past the last corner building, and a man in faded brown robes stood hunched over, all alone. As our minibus rattled by, he raised his head. He was wearing a hood so I couldn’t see his face, but I could have sworn I felt his eyes on me.

  Before I could even think to say anything to the others—before I had any idea what it was I would say—we turned the corner and hit open road again. I looked back to see the man in the robes had followed us around the corner and watched as we drove away. I stared through the dirty glass, watching Madaba and the stranger disappear as the lingering flavor of bruised apple slowly dissolved in my mouth.

  “Oh. Come. On!” Zoe called out, breaking me from my trance.

  I swung around to see her pushing her way to get to the front of the minibus. Obviously, I’d missed something. Nyla and Rudyard were laughing hysterically.

  “You need to appreciate all types of music, Zoe,” Rudyard said, blocking her path to where Griffin was guarding the stereo controls.

  “Here, I brought my iPod. You can pick any song from it, any song at all, just turn off that crap you’re listening to. I swear, you people have to move with the times!”

  Griffin turned up the volume. He was playing some old song I recognized but didn’t know the name of. It was one I could remember being tortured with as a kid when Dad actually had control over the radio. I fully agreed with Zoe. Even Salvatore seemed offended by the music selection.

  Zoe slumped back into her chair, muttering something about how she should whip up a sandstorm. I just leaned my head against the window, which was warm and uncomfortable, matching the feeling from the vinyl seat coverings, which had stuck to my thighs. I had little doubt that wherever we were headed in the mountains was going to be a bare-minimum kind of place.

  My mind drifted again as we continued through the desert. It was impossible not to think of the last time I had been in a place like this. Death felt dangerously close. At least I wasn’t alone this time. Then again, this time I knew who was waiting for me, and I had no idea what I was going to do about him.

  Or what he was planning to do about me.

  “Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply; those who want to deny the world must have once embraced what they now set on fire.”

  Kurt Tucholsky

  “Wow.”

  I don’t know who else said it. It sounded like a chorus though—maybe all of us.

  Well, when I’m wrong, I’m totally wrong.

  “Are you sure this is where we’re staying?” I asked, standing in front of the most incredible building that I’d ever laid eyes on. Nestled in the gigantic stone mountains with waterfalls cascading behind it, the entire place—palace is the only word for it—was built of heavy sandstone blocks and crowned with domed rooftops. It was somewhere between Aladdin’s Palace and Steph’s ideal getaway.

  “Steph is going to flip,” I said, thinking of her.

  Salvatore nodded, looking around confused. I followed his gaze.

  The only thing there wasn’t was people.

  “I’ll go find someone,” Griffin said, heading toward the massive, wooden doors.

  Lincoln gave my shoulder a squeeze.

  “Hang on. I’ll come with you,” he said, running after Griffin.

  He was finally letting us be what I’d always dreamed of. So why was I freaking out?

  Once he and Griffin had gone through the main doors, the rest of us slowly followed with the bags. When we made it into the main lobby area, I was amazed again at how beautiful it was. We were in the middle of nowhere and yet here was this spectacular hideaway.

  We dumped the bags just as Griffin and Lincoln walked over with a man and a woman both wearing a similar kind of outfit. Not exactly robes, like the ones I had seen covering some of the women in the town, but more like baggy yoga wear or something: black, wide cotton pants that finished above the ankle, revealing the almost matching sandals underneath, and a wide-cut top with half-length sleeves in the same fabric. I didn’t know if it was a culture thing, a religious thing, or just…comfy.

  “This is Azeem and Ermina. They are Grigori partners and the owners of the hotel. Azeem is of a Seraph.”

  Azeem was freakishly tall and well-built. Everything about him seemed huge, and when he put his hand out in offering, everyone else’s seemed to get swallowed in his hold. Ermina was the opposite, petite in every way.

  We all said hello and understood that because Azeem was of the Seraphim, Griffin had just introduced us to the leader in these parts.

  “We are not open for normal business at the moment. We have been taking a break from the public—some time for prayer. We are not due to reopen until next month. The hotel is almost entirely locked up, but we have arranged for the northern wing to be opened for you. You will find everything you need there, and meals will be served in the dining area,” Azeem said in a deep, rounded voice.

  Rudyard gave a small bow of respect. “Thank you, Azeem. We are sorry to impose and will not be here for long.”

  “It is no trouble, though we would like to know your intentions.”

  Nyla stepped forward. “We’d be happy to discuss this and hope we may then ask for your assistance. Perhaps we could get settled and then have a walk through your security systems first, though.”

  Always thinking tactically, Nyla was going to make sure we were safe first. I had to admire her direct approach.

 
; Azeem and Ermina exchanged a glance, and for a moment I thought we might have a problem, but then they nodded.

  “Ermina will show you to your rooms and then I will arrange for a tour,” Azeem confirmed.

  • • •

  When it came to picking rooms, panic set in. I couldn’t look at Lincoln. Griffin took the first, then, as we walked down the hall, Ermina allocated suites one by one. I was impressed she’d remembered all of our names from the brief introductions. She presented so meekly, especially for a Grigori. If I hadn’t known better—looking at her fragile frame, mousy hair, and small features—I would have thought a gust of wind could take her down.

  Griffin walked into his room, but just before he closed his door, he gave me a look. I was sure he wanted to say something, but he seemed to restrain himself.

  Yes, it’s immature. Yes, it’s completely inappropriate. Yes, my mind should have been out of the gutter. But when Zoe ducked into her room, departing by giving me a sly grin, I was burning hot.

  The remarkable thing is how much quick thinking can happen in a short walk down a hallway. After Zoe disappeared, Salvatore was allocated the next room.

  Will Lincoln say something? Suggest we share a room? Do I have an answer?

  Lincoln seemed so sure all of a sudden, but was that just because everything had gotten so crazy? Maybe he wasn’t himself. And with that came another sickening thought. Maybe, when I’d healed him, sent him my love, it overshadowed his real feelings. Maybe he was just mirroring my own feelings that I put there. Was that even possible?

  There was so much I still didn’t know.

  On Ermina’s instruction, Rudyard took the next room and then Nyla the one after. They had no qualms about being together and letting everyone know it, so I wondered why they did this. Nyla looked at me and I waited to see if she would say something. But she just gave me a knowing smile, which made me blush, as she closed her door.

  Ermina opened the next door. “Lincoln, this will be your residence,” she said.

  Lincoln walked over and then looked back at me. Why was I panicking so much? When I started fidgeting and tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear, he smiled warmly and came back to me. I was so on edge, I flinched when he brushed a hand across my cheek, igniting my desire. He leaned close and I couldn’t help but gravitate toward him.