Empower: Violet Eden Chapters: Book Five

by Shirvington, Jessica

  ‘She’s so strange,’ I murmured as Lincoln collected his backpack of supplies from where he’d dumped it on the ground and hooked his arms through its straps.

  ‘She wants us to be strong,’ Lincoln said, leading us towards the riverbank. The wind was so forceful now it felt like we were walking into a wall.

  ‘Us?’

  ‘Grigori. All of us. She wants us to triumph, and most of what she does is done for that reason. I think it’s hard for her to consider that though she has always been the strongest leader, that may be changing.’

  I shook my head, frustrated. ‘It isn’t about who’s the strongest, Linc. It’s about who’s trusted. Who will be followed.’

  He nodded, smiling.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  His lips twitched. ‘Nothing. I just realised I’m not your teacher any more.’

  I smiled in return. Because maybe that was true.

  Lincoln’s phone beeped. Then again. Then mine. Then they both started to ring. We both answered.

  ‘Violet, you’ve got incoming,’ Gray yelled, out of breath like he was running. ‘I don’t know what the bloody hell happened but a huge group of dark exiles stormed through, taking out every light exile in sight. Hell, we barely made it out of that damn power plant!’

  Lincoln was talking quickly on his phone, looking down towards the French Quarter. He put his hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to me. ‘It’s Mia. She said there are thousands of light exiles marching down the streets of the French Quarter. They’re headed this way.’

  ‘Violet, where are you?’ Gray yelled.

  ‘We’re on Canal Street, almost at the river,’ I replied.

  ‘We’re almost there. They’re headed right for you. Get out of there! Get out!’ The line went dead.

  Lincoln had my hand and started to pull but my feet were rooted to the spot as I looked from left to right. Canal Street was wide – three lanes each way and streetcar tracks through the centre. The road was straight and flat and I could see clearly as, via the dozen side streets on each side of the dividing road, exiles began to pour out.

  Thousands.

  And thousands.

  Lincoln and I stood right in the middle of their battlefield.

  As light and dark faced off from opposite sides of the street, Lincoln and I tried to move back towards the river. My heart thudded seeing the sheer number of exiles in the one place.

  ‘Linc,’ I said, my hand trembling in his.

  ‘Just keep moving,’ he said levelly, adjusting his backpack.

  But the wind was lashing like crazy and pushed me so hard I stumbled. Lincoln caught me, but it had been enough. The eyes of nearby exiles turned.

  A group of at least twenty dark exiles started to run towards us. I braced for the impossible onslaught.

  How can it have come to this? I have to get to Sammael! I have to save Spence!

  Fury took the place of fear and I grabbed my dagger.

  ‘Look!’ Lincoln yelled, pointing to our left.

  Gray and Carter barrelled out of a nearby side street, their troops close behind. Their team of wayward Rogues worked seamlessly as one tight unit, taking down exiles as they moved through.

  ‘Gray!’ I screamed.

  He looked around frantically, and the moment he spotted us he started to shout out orders.

  ‘Get to them! We protect them at all costs!’

  Gray’s team hit the onslaught of exiles just as they reached us.

  ‘Go!’ Carter yelled, putting his body between the exiles and me.

  My mind raced. I knew I needed to run, to stay alive until I could face Sammael, but I couldn’t just leave them.

  Lincoln grabbed my arm. ‘We have to!’ he shouted, his face looking as pained as I felt.

  Indecision bit at me.

  ‘Gray!’ Lincoln yelled. ‘Mia’s got the rooftops!’

  I looked up, seeing he was right. Grigori scampered along on the edges of many of the buildings edging the street. The conductors’ team were in charge of putting up a force field to keep the battle hidden from human eyes as much as possible, but while they were doing that they could also help out with other things.

  Gray ordered his team back, trying to give the high-placed warriors a clear shot, but they were boxed in.

  I unleashed my power, sending it out towards the river end of the road. I could feel as my power spread to a few, then a few more, then twenty, then thirty and finally, close to forty exiles. It was the most I’d ever held at one time.

  Holding my concentration, I squeezed Lincoln’s hand. He knew exactly what I needed.

  ‘Gray!’ he yelled. ‘Clear the path!’

  Gray’s Rogues charged forward, taking out the exiles who were under my control, and as we ran, arrows tipped in my silvered blood started to fly. Exiles around us dropped to the ground briefly before disappearing.

  Gray’s team then moved into a defensive position, creating a wall around Lincoln and me.

  ‘How far have you got to go?’ Gray asked Lincoln as we ran.

  ‘Right there,’ Lincoln said. Fifty metres away stood the tall building that marked the end of Canal Street and the edge of the riverbank. It stood at the border of the French Quarter and the Warehouse District and smack bang in the middle of what had now become the division between the exiles of light and dark.

  ‘Doesn’t anyone ever get tired of the symbolism?’ Carter grunted, looking up.

  I took in the building, which was about forty storeys high. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I said. Sure, I’d noticed that the building was an odd shape from the steamboat last night, but I hadn’t even considered that it would continue on like this on the other side. ‘It’s a cross.’

  ‘Yep, pointing to the sky,’ Carter said.

  Of course it was.

  ‘Get them to the doors!’ Gray shouted, and our convoy pushed forward.

  As we neared the entrance to the building, the exiles stopped pursuing us.

  ‘Are they scared?’ I asked, baffled by their restraint.

  Lincoln watched them retreat. ‘They don’t look happy about pulling back.’

  We watched as one exile tried to get closer to us but failed to cross an invisible threshold. ‘It’s a force field.’

  The exile continued to push in his attempt to get closer to us, but it looked as if someone had put him on a treadmill. Gray saw the same thing and gave us a nod. ‘You’ll be protected from them in here. But hell knows what’s waiting for you inside. You should take a few of the Rogues with you,’ he suggested.

  But the battle was only growing and we could hear screams coming from the riverbank where we’d left Josephine and Griffin’s team.

  I shook my head. ‘Go back and help the conductors’ team. We’ll be okay.’

  Grudgingly Gray nodded and then working with Carter, they split their team in two and scurried down a side street where they could re-join the battle on their own terms.

  Lincoln and I made for the front doors, which stood open, torches alight with fire on either side. ‘What do you want to bet that this isn’t really a dilapidated abandoned building inside?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing I want to keep,’ Lincoln replied as we stepped into the empty white-marbled foyer.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, looking around. Apart from the outer walls, there was nothing in this building except a set of cables in the centre of the room reaching from the ground to the ceiling forty-odd storeys above.

  As we watched, a glass elevator made its way smoothly down the cables, stopping in front of us. We could see that it was empty, but even so, when the doors slid open I tensed.

  ‘Vi?’ Lincoln prompted, his voice gentle, and I knew what he was asking.

  Anything.

  He’d do anything I needed right then. He’d turn around and walk out; he’d run; he’d fight. Anything.

  I licked my dry lips. ‘I love you, Linc,’ I said, throwing every last piece of my heart deep into the words.

  ‘Don’t you
dare say goodbye, Vi.’

  I stared ahead at the elevator waiting for us. ‘I’m not saying goodbye. Just that I get it now, that saying: A life without love is no life at all. It’s true. And now, live or die, I know I’ve really experienced life. With you.’

  I held out my hand and his slid smoothly into its rightful place.

  ‘I love you, too.’

  We walked into the elevator and the doors closed automatically. As we began our incline, Lincoln turned to me. ‘And you and I will experience everything this world has to offer and then we will grow old together, with our family.’

  I swallowed hard at his words. It seemed like a fantasy to even contemplate being here and together for so long that, as Grigori, we would grow old together.

  How many years would that take?

  Family? Does that mean he wants to have children?

  What would that mean?

  Can we even …

  Sensing my runaway mind, Lincoln squeezed my hand, bringing me back to the here and now.

  The elevator slowed and finally crested right through the ceiling and stopped on the open rooftop. When the door opened we were assaulted by heavy winds and rain sheeting sideways, and I raised my hand to protect my eyes.

  ‘Glad I’m not afraid of heights,’ I said as we got out, trying to keep our balance as we walked along the glass rooftop. Lincoln quickly wedged his backpack between the elevator and a supporting pylon while I noted, somewhat desperately, that there was no railing or wall surrounding the roof perimeter. If the wind pushed us too far in one direction, we could easily plummet to our death.

  At the tip of the eastern arm of the building’s cross, closest to the river, Sammael – dressed in a modern black suit with shiny lapels, sans tie – stood in the centre of a large pentagram drawn in what looked a lot like blood with white stuff scattered over it.

  ‘Blood and salt,’ Lincoln said. ‘A life pentagram.’

  Sammael smiled, hearing us despite the wicked wind blowing at this height and the rain that now sheeted down. Two exiles stood at each point of the pentagram, though I suspected their purpose was more to do with security than any ritual. More curiously, four women stood behind him. And they were not exiles. They looked like gypsies but I could sense that they were Nephlim. Possibly his own progeny.

  ‘Salt represents this earth, you see,’ Sammael pronounced, adjusting his belt and exposing the long sword sheathed at his side. ‘All rituals require unions. Blood, life, earth and sacrifice. With my power and your blood – the life force of angels – I can cross the realms and he will meet me.’ He stood tall, despite his short stature. Proud.

  ‘Why the tournaments? Why bother with the elaborate setting? Was it just to get your kicks?’ I asked.

  Sammael’s expression changed to one of amusement. ‘It is the dawn of all tomorrows and I will be god to all who survive. Let’s just say I’m trimming the fat.’

  And finally, I understood. He wanted them all gone. That was why he had lured such a vast number of the strongest and most competitive exiles to the same place at the same time. It ensured his end result and reduced the competition. Through our bond I could feel Lincoln’s disgust.

  Sammael’s enjoyment only seemed to increase as he gauged our reaction. ‘I must admit, I expected you to bring more bodyguards with you. However, since you have made it so easy for me, perhaps I should just allow my exiles to take out your partner now and we can bleed you after.’

  My eyes flicked to the exiles now edging in our direction. I grabbed Lincoln’s hand and he didn’t hesitate to open his power to me, giving me whatever I wanted to take.

  My amethyst mist, now speckled with Lincoln’s colours, surrounded us, and with a determined will I sent it out to do my bidding.

  One by one, as my eyes remained glued to Sammael’s, I brought the ten exiles under my control and held them still. To drive my point home I stripped the power from one, then two, then four of the closest exiles, releasing them as they dropped to their knees screaming. Now only human.

  ‘I wouldn’t say I’ve made it so easy,’ I said, trying to hide the fact that even I was surprised it had gone so smoothly. I still had the other six well under my control and I was tempted to just get it over with and return them for judgement, but until I had Spence I needed bargaining chips.

  ‘I’ve seen that trick before,’ Sammael said, feigning boredom, though I noticed a telltale twitch at his jaw that suggested otherwise. ‘Release them,’ he said.

  I did as he commanded, watching as the stunned exiles turned fierce eyes first on me and then on the four – now humans – who had been reduced to nothing more than rodents in their eyes. Before I could blink, they grabbed the four men and threw them straight off the building. My stomach turned over while I did my best to keep my expression neutral.

  Sammael smiled, knowingly. ‘Consequences, Violet. Aren’t you tired of them?’

  CHaPteR tHIRty-fOUR

  ‘I know indeed what evil I intend to do, but stronger than all my afterthoughts is my fury, fury that brings upon mortals the greatest evils.’

  Euripides

  ‘you said you would release Spence’s mind!’ I yelled into the wind, keeping my feet wide apart for balance. ‘I’m here! Release him!’

  Sammael produced an oversized silver chalice with intricate designs etched into it. It hummed with an energy I instantly recognised. Lincoln squeezed my hand, letting me know he had made the connection too.

  He has a tabernacle.

  The first tabernacle I had come across had been in Jordan, and in an offering of exile and Grigori blood it had produced the ancient scriptures once hidden away by angels.

  I now understood from where Sammael was drawing the extra power that would help him cross the realms. A relic from the time when angels walked on the earth – imbued with their power.

  Sammael looked at his watch. ‘We only have minutes left. Fill it.’

  The women standing behind Sammael stepped back, as if moving into position. I noticed then that their eyes had changed since I first looked. The whites and irises had been replaced with pure black. They were Nephlim, but they were also something else.

  ‘It’s too big. She’ll bleed out!’ Lincoln yelled.

  ‘Release Spence first!’ I yelled at the same time.

  ‘Violet,’ Lincoln cautioned, but we both knew I had to do this.

  Sammael’s eye twitched. He really didn’t like to negotiate. A gust of wind whipped across the rooftop but his shirt barely ruffled while Lincoln and I struggled to keep our feet planted. It became clear that Sammael had some kind of protection within the pentagram.

  ‘Know that if you do not give me your blood my witches will find him and take it back. I will make sure he exists locked in a reality of pain and nothingness for hundreds of years.’

  I shivered at his warning.

  So, that’s what these women are. Exile-made witches. The real Voodoo.

  ‘I believe you. Now release him.’

  Lincoln’s phone rang. I saw Chloe’s name on the screen and watched as he answered and listened.

  ‘He’s alert. He’s demanding she give him a dagger.’

  My heart skipped and I let out a shuddering breath as I nodded.

  He’s okay.

  ‘Your blood!’ Sammael roared.

  I let go of Lincoln’s hand and pulled out my dagger, walking into the pentagram, careful to avoid the lines of blood and salt. Lincoln had been right: the chalice was large. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to stand after I had filled it with my blood. But I’d made my deal with the devil and I sliced my wrist open, carefully wiping the blade against my sleeve until it was clean as my blood – swirling with silver currents – gushed into the silver tabernacle.

  I could feel Lincoln’s anxiety at my back as I bit the inside of my cheek to distract me from the pain. Sammael’s eyes lit up with greed as he watched my blood drain into the chalice.

  When the chalice was finally full, Sammael held out hi
s hand.

  ‘Dagger,’ he ordered.

  Oh, shit.

  ‘Now!’ he yelled when I hesitated.

  My mind raced with options. Fight him? Refuse him?

  But he could take Spence’s mind again as easily as he had returned it.

  Give it to him?

  What could he use it for, anyway? A Grigori blade could kill exiles, but not angels. And I’ve already made sure to wipe my blood off the blade.

  I clenched my jaw and held out my dagger. He snatched it and pushed me back and out of the pentagram. Lincoln caught me when I stumbled weakly and I felt his healing soothe me instantly as he closed the wound on my wrist and helped replenish some of my strength.

  Using my Grigori blade, Sammael opened a small wound on his palm, hissing in pain as he did so, and allowed a few drops of his blood to mingle with mine. Then he passed the chalice to his witches and threw my dagger off the edge of the building.

  In a trance-like fashion the witches separated most of the blood into two small bowls and returned the main chalice to Sammael before resuming their places.

  The full moon was at its peak, and in the distance the bells of St Louis Cathedral began to chime over the rain and the battle cries below. Lincoln continued to pummel his healing and strength into my depleted body as two of the women stood opposite one another, each holding a bowl containing my blood stained with Sammael’s. Gracefully, in perfect sync, they threw the blood high into the air. Unaffected by the winds, the two streams arched and joined high above our heads, and then remained suspended as my blood, red and silver, turned to glistening shades of black. I bit back my gasp.

  A black rainbow.

  The air around us began to still. Gravity started to distort. And a slight vibration surrounded Sammael.

  ‘What is that?’ Lincoln asked from beside me, his hold on my arms tightening as he stared at the black arch.

  I stared ahead, inevitability and fear mingling to create a bitter taste in my mouth. ‘He’s done it. The realms are crossing.’

  Sammael heard me, his eyes alight as he pulled a long sword from the sheath at his waist and poured my remaining blood over the blade.

  When he stepped towards the suspended arch of blood that would be his gateway, the hunger and victory in his eyes was maniacal. ‘His last thought will be of you. The knowledge that the very thing he created was the thing that delivered his end.’ His voice lingered over the final word.