Empower

by Jessica Shirvington

“He’s an exile of light and he believes in their superiority over dark. He drives the war.”

  “The tournaments?” I asked.

  “It would seem.” Dapper began to flip through a book in front of him, pulling out some loose-leaf papers and handing them to me. “Take these with you. It will give you some of the history on New Orleans. I’ve been looking through them, and it seems possible that this might be the land once spoken of.”

  “Why there, though? I mean, why America and not Europe or Asia?” Steph asked.

  He shrugged. “It’s a good question. Maybe he had foresight to know what America would become and saw the value in controlling a port city. Maybe it was something else. The land is some of the newest territory in the world—rising up out of the water only five or six thousand years ago. And now, it’s gradually sinking again, as if…” he slowed, ruminatively.

  “What?” I asked, dread building in me.

  He shook his head then changed tack. “Sammael found a way to cross the realms after he’d first exiled—did they tell you that?”

  “No.”

  “Most believe he only exiled because he knew the way to return.”

  “Why exile if he only planned to return?” Steph asked.

  “Because he knew that once he assumed a physical form, the angels would need to appear that way to him in the crossover as well.”

  I nodded in understanding. The angels always appeared in human form when they saw me.

  Sammael had wanted a physical fight.

  “Somehow, he opened a gateway and used his magic to summon a great dragon, riding it to a battlefield between the realms.”

  I shivered when he mentioned the dragon, remembering my dreams.

  “He fought Michael and was defeated. Michael stripped part of Sammael’s power so he could never open the realms again, but Sammael escaped before he could be thrown into the pits, swearing he would rebuild the world and man, in his image.”

  “What do you mean when you say ‘crossover’?” I asked, my voice tight.

  He nodded sagely. “I believe it would not be dissimilar to the crossover you are able to create with the angels.”

  At least he couldn’t do it anymore. But then, that left him here, with us. And he had Spence. “So even Michael couldn’t defeat him completely.”

  Dapper smiled sadly, as if he too suspected what lay ahead: nothing good—and a lot of blood.

  “Sammael is said to be a magician with the ability to go beyond mere illusion to something much more tangible. It’s possible that this land he inhabits was never intended for this world.”

  My mouth fell open. “You mean he made it?”

  “Unlikely. But perhaps he brought it up from beneath the sea.”

  “Why? Why there?” Steph asked again.

  “Because it was so close to his slaves and worshippers.” Even though Steph seemed to understand this, Dapper saw my complete lack of comprehension and elaborated. “Read the pages I gave you. But in short, New Orleans is just across the water from Haiti, where Vodoun was born—a religion that worships the dead. There are some who argue that it was Sammael—the angel of death—who created the religion and brought it to New Orleans, turning it into Voodoo.”

  “Voodoo? Devil worship?”

  He shrugged. “Like everything, there is both light and dark. Sammael would’ve seen it as appropriate—to create a religion to feed off the power of the dead. New Orleans has had a colorful history, changing hands more than once between the French, Spanish, and Americans, but perhaps it is Sammael who has truly owned the city all this time.”

  “Do you know anything about this?” I asked Onyx.

  He looked away, as if embarrassed. “If I did, it’s gone from my mind. My memory conjures nothing but fury and fear every time I hear his name.” Dispensing with sips, he settled instead for throwing back the rest of his drink. “When I think of New Orleans, I feel nothing but bloodlust.”

  I stared at him.

  Wow. Thanks so much for your contribution.

  He shrugged, getting up to refill his glass while Dapper tracked his movements with a concerned expression.

  I shook my head. “Why was he helping Lilith if he’s so adamant about the division between light and dark? Why would such a powerful exile stand by while Lilith made her power play, especially since she was the first dark exile?”

  Dapper raised his eyebrows. “Lilith and Sammael have crossed paths more than once in human form. They formed a secret alliance, among other things. Phoenix will be able to tell you more. But it’s safe to say it was a volatile relationship based on keeping one’s enemy close.”

  I nodded. “I’ll speak to him.” I paused, looking up at Dapper. “What does Sammael want?”

  He sighed and took off his glasses. “I don’t know. I’ve put word out to some of the other Patriarchs to see if they know anything else. But when all else fails, you can assume he’s after what the rest of them are, just on a bigger scale. Death, Doom, and Destruction.”

  I left shortly after, with one thought on my mind.

  If Sammael just wants destruction, why did he take my blood?

  “It is the strange fate of man, that even in the greatest of evils the fear of the worst continues to haunt him.”

  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  Carter, Taxi, and Milo were already on the plane with Gray by the time I boarded. I was the last to arrive, having chosen to make my own way in. But I’d needed the solo time to get my head—and heart—straight.

  I passed the Academy Grigori, who’d congregated at the front, and paused when I saw Phoenix sitting at the midway point.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  He smirked in that way of his. “Your pals at the back tried to jump me when I boarded, but I think we made friends.”

  I glanced beyond him to where the Rogues were sitting. Milo had a large bruise forming on his temple. I rolled my eyes but found myself smiling back at Phoenix. “Please play nice.”

  He sobered and glanced out the window. “I’m trying.”

  I nodded awkwardly, knowing that he was saying a lot in that statement.

  “Thank you,” I said, causing his eyes to flash up and meet mine. I wanted to cry when I saw the pain that churned within them and wondered if he saw something similar when he looked in mine. “For saving me. I never said thank you.”

  “Definitely beats killing you,” he said, as if pondering this very idea himself.

  We really are a twisted bunch.

  “I’m glad,” I said, suddenly aware of more than one set of eyes on us. I shifted from foot to foot. “I’d better go and…” I gestured to the back of the plane where the guys were sitting.

  “Yeah,” he said, looking back to the window. “You’d better.”

  Making my way down the aisle, I noted that they looked incredibly uncomfortable despite their outward bravado. I shook my head when I saw Milo.

  “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” I said, pointing at his bruised face.

  He smiled, cheekily. “It’s like a compulsion I can’t control. I see an exile, and I have to have it.”

  I bit my lips to hold back the laugh. “And did you learn your lesson?”

  Milo nodded. “Fast bastard, isn’t he?”

  To that, I couldn’t hold back the chuckle. At least Milo looked like he’d got it out of his system.

  “’Bout time you turned up to your own party, purple,” Carter said by way of greeting.

  “Boys.” I nodded to them. “Miss me?” I stifled my own surprise when I realized that I had missed them.

  Carter snorted while Taxi and Milo chuckled. “You know we did,” Milo said.

  “This gig paying?” Carter asked, cutting to the chase when I sat in the spare seat across from him.

  I shrugged and glanced over at him
. “Well, I guess that depends on what value you put on the world as you know it.”

  “Oh, please, spare me. Are you seriously going to pull some save-the-world crap on me?”

  I rolled my eyes. I’d known it was a long shot. “I’ll figure something out,” I grumbled.

  “Damn right you will,” Carter threw back.

  “Did you get anywhere on the exile priest before you left?”

  Carter snorted. “We only had two days before Gray sent us off to rescue you.” He gave a toothy grin. “Of course we got him. The SOB couldn’t stop himself from trying his moves at a Sunday Mass—daft bugger was so senseless, he tried to help himself to Westminster Abbey. Last thing he ever did.”

  I smiled, pleased the exile priest was out of the way. And by the look on Carter’s face, he had enjoyed being the vehicle of deliverance.

  “Why do they go for religion?” I asked.

  Carter leaned forward. “Come on, purple. That’s the easiest question of ’em all. They all want what they can’t have. They think they should be the ones who are worshipped; they think they should be in charge.”

  “And what if one of them has actually created a new religion?” I asked.

  Carter raised his eyebrows. “Well, he wouldn’t be the first, but it’s kind of like the ultimate finger to the sky, you know.”

  I was surprised by Carter’s response. I lowered my voice. “Do you believe in God, Carter?”

  “Hell, purple, I haven’t even had a beer yet.” He sighed, seeing I was still waiting for his answer. “Look, ask yourself this: if there isn’t, do you really wanna know? ’Cause I sure as shit don’t.”

  I licked my lips. “Good point,” I admitted.

  “I’m full of them,” he said, winking at me before looking toward the sound of approaching footsteps. “Who are you, then?” he barked.

  I didn’t need to look up to know Lincoln was standing in the aisle. “I’m running this mission with Violet,” he said levelly.

  I closed my eyes briefly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear while pushing my emotions down.

  “Carter, this is Lincoln. He’s…he was my partner.”

  “Is,” Lincoln interjected.

  Carter gave Lincoln a long visual assessment and then turned back to me. And burst out laughing. “Pretty boy here was your partner?”

  “Is,” Lincoln corrected again.

  Ignoring Lincoln, I nodded at Carter even as I glared at him.

  He choked on his next bout of laughter, wiping his hand down his face. “Well, no wonder you came running to us.”

  I stood up, ignoring whatever Lincoln had started to say. I hadn’t even been able to bring myself to look at him yet, but that didn’t stop an internal raging at Carter’s words. I moved right into his personal space, knowing how much that vexed him.

  My voice was surprisingly steady. “You don’t get to say that, Carter. You don’t get to pretend like you know me or have any idea why I’ve done the things I’ve done. You definitely don’t get to comment on why I left my partner. He’s a stronger Grigori than you will ever be and not just because he fights harder. It’s because he’s better than any of us. So, listen carefully when I tell you this: Don’t. Go. There.”

  I was so close to Carter’s face, I saw the flash of fear in his eyes.

  “Yeah, yeah, I hear you, purple.” He glanced over to Gray. “Hell, man. A bit of warning that this dude’s her trigger switch mighta been nice.”

  “And miss this? Never,” Gray said as I plonked myself back into my seat to the sound of his and Taxi’s laughter.

  Finally, I looked up to see Lincoln staring at me, his eyes glassy.

  Oh, hell. How am I going to put this one out?

  I expected him to sit down and start going over our non-relationship again, or at least the plan for when we arrived in New Orleans, but after a moment, his brow furrowed slightly and his eyes cleared, looking into me in a way no one else ever has or will as he drew his own conclusions.

  Crap. Crap. Crap.

  Finally, he just bit his lip, smiled warmly at me, then turned, and walked back to the front of the plane where Zoe, Salvatore, and the others had all been pretending—unsuccessfully—not to gawk.

  Phoenix, who was sitting at the halfway mark, didn’t hide the fact that he’d watched the whole thing.

  Jesus. This is going to be a long flight.

  I did the only thing I could do. I tucked myself into a corner and went to sleep.

  “Passion is unjust,

  And for an idle, transitory gust

  Of gratified revenge, dooms us to pay

  With long repentance at a later day.”

  Theognis of Megara

  PHOENIX

  I am in agony.

  My mind races with options, but they’re all hopeless. And painful. Every breath feels tight. Impossible. And I know it shouldn’t hurt this much just to breathe, but it does.

  I’m back. I’m in human form again. I should want a glass of wine, a day lying in the sun, a thunderstorm, for Christ’s sake—all the things that I once treasured about being corporeal. But even after everything, there is only one thing on my traitorous mind.

  Christ. I can smell her.

  Reach out and touch her.

  She’s been sleeping for the past hour, tossing and turning; she wouldn’t even know if I did.

  Not that Lincoln wouldn’t be on me in a flash. He might be sitting at the other end of the plane, but he’s not fooling anyone. Every molecule of that man is attuned to her. Just like me.

  But, the difference is, she doesn’t want me.

  The truth? She never has.

  The torture? I’ve always known.

  Still, I look at her and ache. Still, I lose my breath. And worse, I don’t care about myself anymore. I just want her pain to stop. I want her to be happy. Even though I know who makes her the happiest.

  Is this love?

  Of course it is.

  The worst kind.

  And I can’t have it anymore. I can’t survive it. She knows that as well as me. Eternity is too long a time to lie to myself. And yet, how can I consider an existence without her? She is all I have ever known of true desire.

  All I have ever known of my true self. Lust incarnate. It should be so easy, human form again. I should be working her out of my system, but the mere idea of another woman makes my skin crawl.

  Maybe if they weren’t all so predictably lost to my leaking emotions…but they are. Even here, on this plane, with these Grigori warriors, I can sense the females keeping their attention on me, though they don’t understand why.

  They don’t care for me. None of them. The only one who ever did was Violet. Even if it was fleeting. Even if it never compared to how she feels for him. Even if I’ve known it all along. It was still the purest thing I have ever felt.

  And how did I repay her?

  I’ve damn well broken her too. It all comes back to me. My choices. My darkness. And now she carries a part of me within her. And it destroys me that she is using it to slowly kill herself.

  Now death himself wants her and I have to help her fight. Sammael is pure evil with a plan. He won’t stop until he is put down. But can she do this?

  Hell, she’d better. Otherwise, I won’t be the only one who is ruined.

  She has no idea how important she is.

  I rake my fingers through my hair and am fighting the urge to scream, to go on a rampage that once I would never have denied myself. Instead, I force it back—the Malign. But I know it’s just a matter of time. It’s in me. A part of me.

  Darkness.

  Eventually, it will rise. And it will target its attention in the very same direction as my heart. My jaw clenches. I won’t survive hurting her again.

  Somehow, it must stop.

 
Suddenly she is sitting beside me. Hell, I need to pay more attention.

  “Phoenix,” she says, and I want to scream because just hearing her say my name hurts and lowers me to an all-new level of wretchedness. And I want to cry because I think that it might be all that my future holds: waiting for her to say my name and then screaming in agony when she does.

  “Sammael?” she begins. She looks pale. And though she can shut down her emotions, I’ll always be able to sense enough—perhaps even more than she can herself. Something has upset her.

  I nod.

  “Did you know him?” she asks.

  I shake my head, still struggling to make my voice work. I hate myself. “Lilith knew him,” I finally manage. “Very well.” I let a little innuendo slip into my answer, shielding me like a mask.

  It makes her nervous and she inches away from me.

  Better.

  “I see. He was there, wasn’t he?”

  I nod again, but she already knows.

  All that is now happening is because of me. Because of everything I did. If I hadn’t brought Lilith back, Sammael would never have known that Violet existed. Given what I think he is after and could possibly achieve, it brings the phrase “the weight of the world on your shoulders” a very literal meaning.

  I manage to speak again. “He owed Lilith; she was collecting.”

  Violet’s forehead crinkles and her breathing tightens, and I know she is remembering that night. Is she remembering my role? Seeing me standing before her, loading the crossbow and shooting her with arrow after arrow. Is that all she sees now when she looks at me?

  Christ, I just want it to end. There was a moment there when I was facing Lilith—her hand gripping the blade in my gut—where I thought it was all over, and I remember looking beyond my mother and into Violet’s eyes. I remember exhaling.

  But it isn’t over. It never will be. There are no retirement plans for exiled angels—just the promise of more. My forever can’t feel like this—empty. My only hope is to find some form of satisfaction. And that will only come from finding hers. I could almost laugh. The crying shame of it all is that her happiness is directly connected to another man.

  Yeah, life’s a sneaky bitch.