Empower

by Jessica Shirvington

  Before the door swung closed, my foot was stopping it and Gray had his arm around the first human’s neck from behind. I followed in time to see the second man already with his hands raised in surrender. They didn’t scream or try to fight.

  I hesitated. Alarm bells were already going off.

  They’re expecting us.

  I looked at the man standing with his hands up. He was calm, no more than forty, and typically good-looking in a tall, neat, tailored kind of way. He wore a gold ring on his wedding finger, and on the desk before him was a framed picture of him with a woman and two children.

  He smiled in a businesslike manner, one that said he was a smooth talker and accustomed to getting his own way. But his eager eyes told a less predictable tale.

  “He told us you might come. I’d hoped I’d be the one to get to see you,” he said, his eyes skimming me and lingering on my wrists. “He wants you to know that he’s looking forward to seeing you.”

  I knew he was talking about Sammael. I remembered that Lincoln was listening to all of this.

  “Where is Spence?” I demanded.

  The businessman smiled again, well aware he held a trump card. “He has your friend, and he wants you to know that if you want to see him again, he will be in New Orleans the night before the next full moon,” he replied.

  Gray groaned.

  I glanced at him, but he just shook his head. “Nothing good ever happens in New Orleans.”

  Gray nudged the first human toward the door. “Let’s take these two back with us. They clearly know more, and Lincoln wants to question them about the tournaments.”

  “It’s all him, isn’t it?” I pushed, keeping my eyes on the man behind the desk. “Sammael? He’s running the tournaments through your companies?”

  The man shrugged. “There are a lot of wealthy people who are willing to bet large amounts of money. It’s profitable entertainment.”

  I stared at him in disgust. “Humans go to the tournaments? Willingly?”

  He nodded and pointed to his computer. “Live feeds. One of which you two starred in recently, if I recall.”

  They’d watched us in London. But that realization paled in comparison to the appalling reality of what was going on in the tournaments. “You watch people slaughter one another?”

  He smiled coolly. “They are all willing participants. We merely provide the arenas.”

  “And what about the humans who are murdered for sport?” I spat out. “Are they willing participants too?”

  The businessman’s expression did not falter, not even for a second, and it made me sick.

  Does he even have a conscience?

  “Violet, we should move them out of here,” Gray said.

  I nodded, stepping closer to the businessman, but before I had a moment to react, he raised his hand, revealing a gun we hadn’t spotted. He aimed it straight at Gray and fired, and I gasped when I saw he’d shot not Gray but the other human right between the eyes. In the time it took to look back at him, he had the gun to his own head.

  “Wait,” I said, holding up my hands. “Don’t!”

  “Death is no longer of consequence. He has promised our ascension regardless of our crimes,” the man said right before he killed himself.

  “Oh my God,” I said.

  Gray was already moving, grabbing my arm. “Not God’s work, Violet. This is something else. We’ve got to get the hell out of here before they all come running and start offing themselves.”

  I gaped at Gray. Did he really believe the other humans would do the same thing? I was damn sure I didn’t want to find out. We hurried toward the corridor and headed back through the communal work area to the window we’d left open.

  “Oh, and by the way,” Gray said. “You were right. This is definitely a trap.”

  “Gotta love being popular,” I said.

  “Say that again in about ten seconds,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

  Two exiles were behind us, moving in fast.

  Working in practiced sync, we spun to face the threat, Gray automatically lining up with the one on the right while I continued backing up, drawing the attention of the one on the left. The latter wore a business suit and looked unnervingly like Agent Smith from The Matrix.

  Weird.

  He took off at a run, heading right for me. When he got close enough, I kicked his chest hard, halting his momentum. He quickly corrected his balance and spun, grabbing me by the shoulders and throwing me so hard, I smashed right through the tenth-story window. As I fell through the air, I tried to right myself, and using my speed and strength, I managed to get into a good enough position to roll through the impact of landing.

  But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch, especially since a large shard of glass had joined the party and embedded itself in my shoulder.

  I barely had time to stand before the exile who had followed me straight out the window—though with a touch more finesse—was there, lining me up for another round of hurt.

  Fine by me.

  In fact, I felt more in my element than I had since stepping foot in New York. Since embracing, fighting had always come naturally to me. I let the exile come at me and didn’t flinch when I saw another one round the corner, stalking toward us.

  The first exile started to throw a series of hard punches my way. But even with the hampered use of my right arm—thanks to my new glass accessory—I wasn’t worried. I knew I needed to draw the second exile in as close as possible before I made my move.

  But the first exile took me by surprise, grabbing my ponytail and yanking it back so sharply that I cried out. I swung around hard and backhanded him across the face, but he barely flinched and didn’t let go. Instead, the psycho once-angel licked his lips and smiled, confident he now had the upper hand.

  Bask in your ego, buddy. It will be the last thing you do.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw a figure charge around the corner running right for us.

  Lincoln.

  “Stop!” I yelled, hoping he would see that I had things under control. Okay, so it didn’t look good. Maybe it even looked like I was at their mercy. But I wasn’t. I just needed the other exile to take two more steps toward me and then it would be game over.

  But Lincoln didn’t even pause to see any of that. It didn’t occur to him that perhaps his help wasn’t actually helpful. He simply barreled into the fray and leapt on the other exile.

  Sighing, I swung my leg out and took the exile’s feet out from under him while he still gripped my ponytail. As he fell, he took a large clump of my hair with him. I stood over him and delivered a round of kicks to his side, stopping him from getting up before I grabbed my dagger and dropped beside him.

  “Choose,” I ordered.

  He laughed and spat at me.

  Gross.

  “Soon there will be no choice for anyone,” he hissed.

  The spitting thing tipped me over the edge. “Not exactly an answer,” I said, finishing him with a blow to the heart. “But I’ll interpret.”

  He disappeared.

  I turned in time to see the other exile in an all-out brawl with Lincoln. The exile was holding a large piece of glass and he’d already managed to use it against Lincoln, judging by the gash on his forehead.

  I shook my head, anger bubbling to the surface. I’d had the situation under control, and if Lincoln had just trusted me for a few seconds, instead of barging in to save me, none of this would’ve happened.

  Wincing, I pulled the long shard of glass out of my shoulder and pulled back the clasp on my wristband, piercing the skin with the tip of the glass and watching some of my silvered blood join the already thick coating of red.

  Just as Lincoln took a hard hit to his temple, Gray jumped down from a nearby window and landed beside me.

  “I see I missed mo
re fun. Any others?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Well, he’ll probably wrap this up in a few,” Gray said, watching Lincoln fight. And yes, he was getting the upper hand. But…

  “We don’t have a few,” I said, knowing that more exiles and suicidal humans could turn up at any moment. I walked toward the exile fighting Lincoln and lined him up. When Lincoln delivered a blow to the exile’s side, causing him to stagger back, I took the opportunity and threw the shard of glass toward the exile’s leg.

  It was anything but a kill shot, but then, the glass was coated in my blood. The exile blinked, stumbling back into the wall, no doubt confused as to why he was suddenly so sure he was dying.

  Lincoln quickly looked between me and the exile, who in the next moment disappeared just like his buddy had done.

  I didn’t need to look to know that Gray was already on the move behind me. He never needed to be told when it was time to leave.

  Lincoln jogged after us. “I didn’t need you to do that. I had him.”

  I spun, feeling my blood boil. “No, Lincoln, I had him! If you’d taken two seconds to look at the situation before charging in, you would’ve seen I had them exactly where I wanted them. It would’ve been finished minutes ago my way and without you needing to get hurt. Unnecessarily! Jesus! You just can’t stop yourself!”

  He looked at my bleeding shoulder, his eyes like daggers, his voice low and threatening. “You were hurt and on your knees. Two exiles had you. On. Your. Knees. I was—”

  I put up a hand, stopping him. “I know.” I sighed. “I know exactly what you were doing and it’s fine. Just forget it. You can’t help yourself, and I accepted that a long time ago.”

  Feeling defeated yet again—even though I should have probably just been grateful for the in-the-face reminder of why there was no future for Lincoln and me—I left the alley, ignoring his yelling after me to explain what the hell I was talking about.

  “I would believe only in a God that knows how to dance.”

  Friedrich Nietzsche

  It took an hour to debrief.

  Lincoln, who had traveled in a separate car and disappeared as soon as we arrived back at the Academy, had ever so kindly left me to deal with Josephine by myself.

  “They just shot themselves?” Josephine asked again, as appalled now as the first time she’d asked.

  I nodded, returning my attention to her after taking a few minutes to heal my shoulder wound. “Well, one of them shot the other one and then himself. But it was like they were completely fine with it. As if death was of no consequence for them.” I shook my head, equally disturbed by the memory. There was something about the way the men had so fearlessly relinquished their lives.

  “And they said Sammael has Spencer in New Orleans?” she went on, covering more of the same questions and gripping her pen tightly as she documented every word I said.

  “That he will have Spencer in New Orleans,” I corrected. “They must’ve recaptured him at the airport like Chloe suspected. I’d say they’re on the move but, yes, he said Spence would be in New Orleans the night before the full moon, which is five days from now.” Steph had looked up the lunar calendar before I’d even made it back to the Academy. “So that leaves us with four to get to New Orleans and figure out what the hell is going on.” I stood up, rotating my shoulder, which still felt the phantom wound. “Josephine, it’s been a really long day. I need to get out of here for a while and clear my head. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

  Zoe had already taken Gray back to Ascension. They’d promised to stop by the infirmary on their way to bring Chloe up to speed, and I desperately needed some alone time.

  “You’re welcome to stay here, you know,” she said, sounding surprisingly genuine, though equally cautious.

  “Thank you, but no.” I headed for the door, hoping she wouldn’t push.

  “Violet, what’s it like?” Josephine blurted as I neared the door.

  “What?” I asked. But I knew. She was pushing.

  “Seeing him again.”

  I turned. “Why would you ask me that?” As far as I was concerned, she had no right.

  She leaned back in her chair, placing her pen on her desk. “I ask because I’m partly responsible.” She pressed her lips together before continuing. “I realize you all think of me as hard and arrogant. I’ve even been compared to exiles in that way. But the difference between them and me is that I am very aware of my failings and what they have cost me and those around me.”

  I felt a rare twinge of pity for Josephine and wondered if it was genuine remorse I was hearing in her words.

  “What do you want me to say, Josephine? That it rips me in two? That it makes me want to crawl into a dark hole and never come out when I see what we’ve become? That this incredible love we have has destroyed us? Do you need to hear me say those things when they can’t and won’t change anything?”

  “No.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “No. I was wondering if you might explain to me why things must be this way. I assume your reasons are valid, but I have never fully understood how you could force this distance between souls that have once been joined.”

  My throat was closing over, and I took the time to smother my emotions even as the coldness stabbed me from the inside. “Because if I don’t maintain the distance, I will lose the only thing that keeps me going.”

  “And what is that?” she asked softly.

  “Knowing that somewhere in this world, he’s alive.”

  • • •

  After taking one look at me, Steph took me up to her room for a shower—scaling buildings was never a clean sport, let alone fighting to the death.

  “It’s so strange that Dapper owns Ascension,” I said.

  “Yep,” she said, tossing clothes from her wardrobe onto the bed. “He bought it about a year ago. Here,” she said, tossing me a little black dress, which looked like it flared from the waist.

  “I’m not going out, Steph,” I protested. I reached into my bag for a clean pair of jeans.

  Steph quickly snatched them out of my hand and stuffed them back in my backpack. “Just put on the dress. Everyone’s already at Ascension and Dapper is stupid excited to show you the place in action, not to mention your friends, who just want a chance to see you and show you how happy they are that you’re back. It won’t take long.” She held the dress out to me again. “Put. It. On.”

  I stared at her for a moment.

  Steph was having none of it, though, and simply stared back until I finally gave in and took the dress.

  It felt strange knowing I’d be seeing everyone in a social environment, especially without Spence. Plus, the only time I ever sported a dress these days was when I dragged Gray to our classes twice a week, and even then I changed straight afterward. Wearing a dress now felt like stripping away one of my pieces of armor.

  A piece I worried I was going to miss greatly.

  • • •

  When we walked through Ascension’s unmarked door, we were instantly assailed by the cacophony of sounds of a night out—music, talking, orders being called out, laughter, and glasses clinking. My guards were up, but I still felt his presence the second we crossed the threshold. The woman at the door smiled warmly when she saw Steph, pulling her into a brief hug and giving me a curious once-over. I eyed the rack of masks behind her with every intention of taking both the mask and hair-color glamour offered for anonymity, but Steph shook her head.

  “People still do it, but why would you when the whole point is that people are here to see you? And anyway, Dapper keeps things so tight around here that disguises are less common. It’s a safe place, Vi—free from the Academy and opposition. Try to relax.”

  “Easier said than done,” I mumbled. This was a world I’d walked away from. One I’d never believed I would be a part of again. It had
almost killed me to do it the first time, and though I knew Steph was trying to help, she just didn’t realize how hard it was going to be when I left again.

  I took my time looking around. Though I’d been here last night, Ascension was different when it was full of people—the place was a living force unto itself. I stared up at the tall columns that supported scaffolding-style walkways and spiral staircases that wound their way up the walls. There were doorways to small rooms and bars scattered intermittently. Grigori of all shape, size, rank, and age filled the club, and as I anxiously noticed the numerous sets of eyes tracking me, I realized that there were also plenty that weren’t.

  With each step I took in Steph’s black-and-silver heels, I felt the music working its magic on me. From the beat vibrating through the floor to the sounds of the bass, I couldn’t help but relax in that way only music could inspire. It’s the one thing I’ve never been able to let go of. No matter what, it has remained my secret.

  Steph led me through the busy bar area to a large table where many of my old friends sat and beside which Dapper stood, dishcloth slung over his shoulder, a smile on his face as he leaned against Onyx’s chair chatting with his patrons.

  When Dapper saw us approach, he frowned.

  “What?” I asked, letting him pull me aside.

  “Am I hearing things right? New Orleans?”

  I nodded. “Looks that way. We’ll start assembling a team and making a plan tomorrow.”

  “Violet, New Orleans is not a normal city. You’re going to have to watch yourself there like never before.”

  “Why is that?” I noted that the worry in his eyes was intensifying with each word.

  “Witches.”

  I grinned. I couldn’t help myself. “Really?”

  Dapper didn’t smile. If anything, he paled. “I don’t believe in them either, but New Orleans is…Like I said, it isn’t normal. Strange things happen there, and the power…it’s wrong.”

  I swallowed, absorbing an influx of Dapper’s strong emotion—fear tastes peppery.