“Oh, there it is,” I said, spinning around to the bedside table to get my brush. My towel was draped at the back so it dropped all the way to the top of my butt. It didn’t show any more than a backless dress would, but it’s different when the only thing between you and stark nakedness is a loose sheet of cloth.
I turned back just in time to catch the corners of Lincoln’s mouth go up.
“You do realize I’m coming over there, don’t you?”
“No. Why?” I replied, but I was already laughing.
He took a few steps and by that stage, he couldn’t move fast enough. Just as he reached me, there was a knock at the door. Zoe called out.
“Everyone’s getting ready to go. You guys okay?”
“Yep,” we called out in unison.
“Right,” Zoe said, sounding like someone who knew exactly what we were doing.
“At least it wasn’t Ermina,” I said. But Lincoln really wasn’t interested. His lips found mine and though we had to go, nothing was going to stop us from sharing this moment. He pulled me close and the towel dropped from my back as my hands wrapped around him. His touch glided gently over the contours of my shoulders and down the sides of my body, and suddenly there were a million places I wanted them to be and I knew his hands wanted to be there too.
Instead, they reached down and picked up the dangling towel, gently rewrapping it over my back then running his hands down, smoothing it over. Always the gentleman.
“You know that what you just did is a form of very serious torture,” he said, his voice more enrapturing than ever before. I watched him, hypnotized as he reached out and ran a hand through my wet hair.
“You deserved it.”
He half laughed. “I don’t know that I will ever do anything in my life remarkable enough to make me deserve you, but I promise you, Violet, I will try every day for the rest of my life.” He took a step back and took in the sight of me in a way that made my insides flip. “When we get home, I plan on showing you just how amazing we really can be together.”
Why is it he has the ability to say these incredible things at times like these?
Once again, I could hardly breathe. Honestly, who was I kidding? I couldn’t control this thing between us. I’d be his slave if he asked it of me.
There was another bang at the door. “Rudyard’s coming,” Zoe whispered through the crack.
“Go!” I said to Lincoln. “I’ll meet you down there.”
He didn’t need telling twice. Neither one of us was up for a discussion with Rudyard about the seriousness of this choice we were making.
• • •
When I got downstairs, I spotted Lincoln first on the far side of the room—my eyes would find him anywhere first. He was already looking at me, smiling.
“Oh for Christ’s sake!” Magda, whom I hadn’t noticed standing alone near the entryway, said between a series of huffs. She gestured toward my still-wet hair. “For someone who needed everyone to carry her back here, you look awfully…fresh.”
“You know what, Magda? I feel sorry for you. You have the most amazing Grigori partner, and he’s been carrying the whole load, covering up for you, doing your job even when he can barely find the time to do everything he has to. Why don’t you just try being helpful for a change?”
She moved in close to me, so no one could hear. Salvatore was behind her, watching us.
“Just remember who Lincoln came to when he needed someone. You think you and he have a chance? Well you don’t. You’re sparkly and new right now, but he’ll see through that soon enough—then he’ll see what you really are.”
My eyes widened. Her words splintered through my defenses too easily.
She smiled, encouraged by my reaction. “Do you think of him often? Fantasize about being wrapped in his arms? Do you tell Lincoln about what it was like to share a bed with Phoenix?”
“Shut up,” I said.
“Didn’t think so. It must be hard, impossible even, to forget,” she taunted. “Phoenix is, after all, the son of lust and seduction. No wonder Lincoln needed to go after Nahilius. He was probably desperate to regain some dignity.”
I glared at her and tried not to back away. “You know, you’re not looking so great, Magda. Jealousy doesn’t work for you.”
She leaned in, close to my ear. “You think you’re Lincoln’s soul mate? Come on. How could you ever think a soul as tainted as yours could be a match for his?”
“I…I…” I was trying desperately to hold back the tears. I wanted to hit her, and before I knew what had happened, I had. I slapped her across the face.
She stumbled back a step, then I saw her smile as she added a couple more steps.
Please.
Griffin was at Magda’s side in an instant. Lincoln was at mine, but he wasn’t happy. I could almost see the lingering high from our earlier towel moment disintegrate into nothing.
“What happened?” Lincoln asked, looking between Magda and me. I could see him drawing his own conclusion before I’d even had a chance to explain.
“She…She…” But what was I going to say? I could see the smile in Magda’s eyes as she held a hand to her face like a beaten woman. I hadn’t hit her that hard. Anything I said was just going to sound childish. I dropped my head.
“Violet, I don’t care what petty arguments you and Magda are having—we don’t lash out at our own like this. She’s my partner; striking out at her is a strike to me.”
Griffin’s words were like a return slap to my face. I thought for a moment Lincoln might defend me as Griffin had Magda, but he stayed silent. Magda walked out in Griffin’s hold.
“Everyone load up!” Griffin called behind him.
“Lincoln, I…She started it,” I tried to explain.
“Violet, it doesn’t matter.” He shook his head, disappointed with me, and my heart sank.
I could almost hear Magda laughing at me, taunting me…With a soul as tainted as yours.
“You shouldn’t have hit her.”
“I barely touched her,” I said quietly.
He shook his head at me again and followed the others.
Salvatore walked out beside me. “Carefully, Miss Violet. Carefully, carefully, per favore.”
Zoe raced up behind us and draped an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, babe. I had your back. She had that coming.”
Yeah, Zoe had my back. From the farthest point across the room!
“Without darkness, nothing comes to birth, As without light, nothing flowers.”
May Sarton
“They are not here yet,” Azeem said when we arrived back at Mount Nebo.
His Grigori, the men anyway, had been patrolling and scouting all afternoon. When I had asked, Rudyard explained that even though the female Grigori were very powerful, their beliefs still overrode their entitlements. The women Grigori were confined to securing the home perimeters and healing. It had left me baffled.
No exiles had come near the caves. It wasn’t exactly encouraging to hear. Not because I thought they wouldn’t come—more that I knew they would. And I had a strong suspicion that Jude was not far away. But that was just intuition. I couldn’t sense anything.
The mountain had a different feeling in the evening. The air surrounding me felt thick despite the cool breeze. Dusk was falling and there was a clear view to the horizon in all directions. It looked as if the flesh-colored clouds with dark gray tops were rising from the ground, encircling us, suffocating the last of the sun’s golden glow with shadow. Closing in.
“How are you feeling?” Lincoln asked. Again.
“I’m fine,” I said, a little sharp. I was still angry about the Magda situation. And I was tired, but it wasn’t going to help admitting to it. He kept his attention on me, wanting me to say more. I pretended I was interested in something to the side and angled m
yself away from him.
Griffin herded us all down the back of the mountain. He had decided, even though we might be walking into a trap, it was better if we were in the tomb. It was now completely dark and I heard Spence swearing every few steps as he tripped.
“If it’s a tomb, how come there’s no coffin?” I asked, putting a few steps between Lincoln and me.
“It is likely Moses was laid within the earth,” Azeem answered.
I felt uncomfortable around Azeem now, like I should speak up on Ermina’s behalf or something. You know, feminism and all. But then again, Ermina hadn’t done anything to suggest she wasn’t happy with the way things were. Maybe it only seemed backward to me.
The entrance to the tunnel was easily visible this time, as if now that our eyes had seen the truth, they would not again be deceived. I hoped the same would apply inside the cave, but the rules here seemed to be a bit different. The tunnel glowed with the eternal golden flames, which burned silently from torches dotted at intervals. I noticed no one else was particularly fascinated by the perpetual flames like I was. There was probably some class at the Academy that covered it. I surprised myself with a small smile as I envisaged turning a page in one of my textbooks to see a chapter named “Fire That Ignites, But Never Burns.” For the first time, I wondered if I’d made the right decision vetoing my education at the Academy.
Azeem’s men remained outside at their posts, though Azeem joined us. By the way he watched us, I got the impression he was more concerned with preserving the site than anything else. That is, until I saw him pull out a machete from beneath his robes.
“That work?” Lincoln said.
“We are each given the tools of our culture. This is mine.”
“I didn’t know the machete was ever an Arab weapon,” Lincoln said.
Azeem spun the heavy blade like it was a butter knife. “I was not always from these parts.” He smiled a different smile from his standard—more tooth showing, catching the firelight. It sent a shiver down my spine.
“Impressive,” Lincoln said with a nod.
“Yes,” agreed Azeem, looking ahead.
I’d be impressed when I saw him put it to good use.
Not that I can comment, I thought, unconsciously brushing my hand across the hilt of my own dormant dagger.
The tunnels had the same musty smell and there was a new energy within the walls that I couldn’t quite identify.
When we piled into Moses’s tomb room, I let out a small gasp. Unlike the entrance to the cave, in here the room and all its imaginations had restored themselves. Once again we were in the smaller space that looked completely real, even though we knew it wasn’t.
“I thought once we knew what to look past, we could do it?” Zoe said.
Everyone was looking around the room in awe, as if seeing it for the first time.
“We usually can,” said Nyla. Spence took a running jump at one of the walls, slamming his shoulder in the process. It was futile, so I was a little annoyed when I saw Salvatore line up and do the exact same thing.
“It’s because the room is not under the typical glamour of exiles,” I said, unable to hide my frustration.
“Explain please, Violet,” Rudyard said, in a teacher’s voice not unlike how Griffin’s could be.
“This room was created by angels to hide its contents. Only when Grigori or exiles are here will the room be revealed. Each time we leave, the layer of imagination is reinstated.”
Griffin, who’d clearly worked this much out himself, only nodded. “Violet, do you think you can?”
I looked around the room again, feeling something I couldn’t see but knew wasn’t the same as before. I resisted the urge to wrap my arms around myself and shiver.
I hoped it would be easier the second time round.
Lincoln took my hand. “Together,” he said, squeezing my hand tight.
“Okay.”
I took a moment to center myself. No one pushed, not even Spence. I pulled within myself and sent my will into the room. It was easier this time. My power, the frosting of amethyst, rolled over the room, followed closely by Lincoln’s many colors led by green.
The metallic markings around my wrists began to churn rapidly. The walls that surrounded the room started to evaporate, first in my peripheral vision and then everywhere. The weight of the mask seemed easier to shift, as if recognizing our return.
As the last of the pretense faded away, I had to close my eyes. The senses bombarded me in my fragile state. I swayed. Lincoln had a hand at my back instantly, steadying me.
“Senses” was all I could manage.
“I know,” he said, as I fought the urge to collapse and opened my eyes. Jude was sitting in the corner of the room. He had been there all along, within the glamour.
“Oh.”
Azeem already had his machete out and pointed at a side angle to Jude’s neck. I was about to say something, ask Jude how he’d hidden within the angelic facade, when I heard clapping.
I spun, more slowly than I wanted, to see Phoenix standing at the entryway, a platoon of exiles behind him.
“You’re truly inspiring, Violet. It took me a week locked in this damn room to finally break it down and you did it in just minutes,” Phoenix said. His eyes were frighteningly devoid of emotion.
I stood tall and was grateful that Lincoln was quick to take his hand from my back. Phoenix noticed anyway. For a moment, I thought I saw the smallest flash of something, concern perhaps. Whatever it was, it was quickly covered as he moved into the room. His presence commanded such attention, it was unnerving. He didn’t even seem to try, unlike Onyx and all his theatrics. For Phoenix, it was…natural.
He took up one side with his followers, while we took the other, standing behind Griffin. Jude remained in his corner, Azeem’s very large blade still resting at his neckline. Jude seemed unfazed. In fact, he had not even lifted his head, which remained covered under a hood.
“What of my men outside?” Azeem asked with a megaphone volume.
“Some are probably dead, others might live,” said a very stoic exile who stood directly behind Phoenix. There were twelve of them including Phoenix, outnumbering the ten of us. Jude was an unknown. Neither friend nor foe.
Phoenix merely shrugged.
How can he do this? How can he be attacking us like this?
I didn’t understand. I mean, I got the bit about him being dark and hating me, even wanting to kill me. But why was he so intent on getting the Grigori Scripture? It just didn’t fit.
I was missing something.
“That is,” Phoenix said, “dependent on how quickly you can get help to them.” He was smiling. “I take it you have figured out what is required.”
Griffin took a small step toward the center of the room, fearless. “An exile of light, one of dark, and a Grigori,” he answered.
“Yes, but not just any. To lift the veil, a prince in each is required. A leader.”
I looked back at the paintings on the wall. That was why each was wearing a small crown.
“Well, I believe you have a problem then,” said Griffin. “You might have exiles of light in your fold, but there is certainly no leader among them.”
A few of the exiles, obviously of light, sneered at Griffin. But he was right. None exuded enough supremacy.
“Griffin, you always were too slow,” Phoenix said. He turned, seemingly distracted, to me. “You’re weak,” he said, as if angry with me about it.
“Strong enough to deal with you,” I said, pushing my shoulders back.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Good.” He switched his attention to Lincoln. “Still think you can protect her?” He laughed and raised a hand. “No matter,” he said, before Lincoln could answer.
I could sense Lincoln stiffen beside me. He was biting his tongue.
T
here were small movements happening everywhere as people adjusted, moving to get the best line on the exiles they were going to fight. I could see Nyla and Rudyard strategically positioning themselves at the far end where the most vicious exiles were crowded. I spotted the two whom Griffin’s intel told us were now Phoenix’s right and left: Gressil and Olivier. I could see why he’d selected them. Just the sight of them put my hair on end, and it had nothing to do with their massive stature in height and build. It was something else, seeping out from beneath the surface. Something altogether eager and…evil.
Nyla appeared unfazed. She would tackle the extra numbers and Rudyard would have her back.
Spence made a move toward Nyla and Rudyard. I caught his eye and I shook my head at him, but of course, he kept inching his way up there anyway. Lincoln stayed down with me and Magda was at our end too. Griffin held his place in the middle, Zoe and Salvatore flanking him.
“I presumed you’d be here, Jude,” Phoenix said. “Still waiting for something to trade for your return?”
Jude remained silent. But raw power emanated from him. He was not afraid of Phoenix. Of any of us.
“Jude is a leader,” I said, starting to understand.
“Yes, the oldest remaining exile of light,” Phoenix said. “Here is your chance to play a part in history that is of your own making, Jude.”
Jude stood and pulled down the hood of his robes. Azeem looked to Griffin, who nodded. Azeem lowered his machete and allowed Jude to pass. He walked to the center of the room and raised his arm over the chalice. He looked no more than thirty years old and he was…beautiful…in a most indescribably painful way.
His dark hair, wispy thin and tattered, fell to his shoulders. His eyes were baby blue and crystal clear beneath thick eyelashes. His high cheekbones and slender features begged for some form of contact. I was tempted to reach out to him and I had to force back my suddenly weightless arm that was so drawn to him. I saw some of the others actually take a step toward him before forcing themselves back.
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