Embolden

by Syrie James

  Ever since the debacle at Erica’s party, Alec had felt like an asshole. He should never have lost it like that, attacking Neil on the patio. Thankfully, the drinking had prevented Alec from hurting him more permanently. He’d like to blame his outburst on the alcohol but knew it was more than that.

  Turbo had made him a walking ball of testosterone, and over the past two weeks he had only slowly been growing less irritable. Finally, he felt like himself again—more balanced, clearheaded. And therefore, hopefully, more worthy of asking Claire’s forgiveness for what had happened at the party and for originally betraying her trust. Although could he even trust her again after what she’d done?

  “Alec, I think your mic got switched off by accident.” It was Brian, calling down from the sound and light booth at the back of the theater. “Can you take care of it?”

  Alec reached under his green velvet tunic, felt for the switch on the wireless microphone pack he wore, and clicked it. A loud pop resonated in the speakers along the auditorium walls.

  “Thanks, we’re good, Your Highness,” Brian said.

  At the moment, the stage was set for the final scenes of the play. Alec stood alone in front of a backdrop of a hilltop overlooking a battlefield. Neil and Claire entered, somber as Lancelot and Guinevere, come to beg King Arthur to put an end to the war they’d inadvertently sparked. In the scene, Arthur refuses, explaining that it’s too late. The Round Table—and his dream of peace—was dead.

  Claire/Guinevere stepped forward to make the plea Alec had heard so many times before: begging Arthur to forgive her and Lancelot for their affair. But this time, her line seemed different, which caught his attention.

  “So often in the past, Arthur, I would look up in your eyes, and there I would find forgiveness. Perhaps one day in the future it shall be there again.”

  As Claire spoke, the deep emotion on her face and in her voice made him wonder if she was speaking as Guinevere or as herself.

  It struck a chord within him, but he still didn’t know how to feel or what to do about it.

  “But I won’t be with you. I won’t know it,” she continued tearfully.

  That was Alec’s cue to hold out his arms, to silently show Guinevere that he still loved her and forgave her in spite of everything. Alec poured himself into the act.

  But the rift between him and Claire was still very real. They had a long way to go if they were ever to make up. When Claire’s face lit with joy and relief as she moved into his embrace, Alec could tell that she was feeling similarly conflicted. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest, wishing it would feel like home—but at the moment, everything was too broken.

  As her brow pressed against his cheek, Alec felt Claire freeze, then her entire body tensed. He felt sweat break out on her forehead, and heard her give a small gasp, holding him even tighter as the hug extended a few seconds longer than usual. When she drew back, Claire was supposed to utter another line, but instead she just stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.

  Something strange had just happened, Alec was sure of it. It wasn’t like Claire to forget a line.

  Then it hit him: she’d just had a vision.

  Alec tried to catch her eye, but she was backing away now and looking at the ground. To cover, Alec moved on to his next line, saying softly, “Good-bye, my love …” while Neil led Claire offstage. “My dearest love.”

  As he moved on to the last part of the scene, Alec’s mind was working overtime, wondering what Claire had just seen.

  He was certain she’d gotten a vision off of him. And it had terrified her. Was it about his past or his future?

  After rehearsal, Alec raced across the junior parking lot toward Claire, who was almost to her car.

  “Wait up!” He’d put this off far too long. He had to talk to her. “Claire!”

  Claire paused, keys in gloved hand, her eyes fixed on the ground.

  Confirming that they were alone, Alec asked: “What did you see?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In your vision.”

  Claire hesitated, pressing her lips together. She appeared to be anxious about something. Yet when she spoke, her eyes flashed a little defensively. “What, no, ‘Hello. How’ve you been?’ That’s usually how people start talking, especially after—what, a whole week?”

  “I … sorry, you know I’ve never been good at saying the right thing. It just looked like you saw something back there, and I’m guessing it was bad.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

  “I wish you would talk about it. You seem worried. What you saw—has it happened yet? Is there any way I can help?”

  That made her pause, as if she were turning the thing over in her mind. “I don’t know. Right now I think it’s better if—”

  “Hey!” Neil walked up out of the shadows and stopped a few feet away from them.

  Alec froze, cursing inwardly. No, not now! We were finally starting to talk!

  “Guys, I’m glad I caught you.”

  “What is it, Neil?” Alec struggled to keep his frustration buried.

  “It’s been so tense all semester, and this past week has been the worst yet. I can’t stand it anymore. I just had to say something.” Neil took a deep breath, lowering his voice as he went on: “You got the wrong idea about us the other night at the party, man. Claire, she was telling me … stuff. All the stuff, about superpowers and angels and psychic shit and God, I can’t believe I’m saying any of this like it’s real, and …” He paused, as if trying to figure out what to say next.

  Shite, Alec thought. His suspicions had been right. Now yet another person knew all the secrets that could condemn him to death. Alec looked wildly around, hoping against all hope that Zachariah wasn’t watching and listening, invisible and insidious.

  “And … ?” Claire prompted Neil.

  “It’s taken me a while to process it all,” Neil continued. “I didn’t want to believe it at first, I mean, who would? It’s nuts. But if it wasn’t real, how could you have tossed me up against a wall and held me there in midair by looking at me, Alec? It was like something out of a Stephen King novel! Which was scary shit, by the way, but since I’m still in one piece, I’m willing to let it go.”

  The memory of that altercation sparked a bundle of barbed emotions in Alec’s gut.

  “Then I thought about everything that happened around Homecoming,” Neil continued, “with the scaffolding and that dead mountain lion and you all bloody and battered. It was the weirdest two months in all my years at this school. And I see it now. I get it. Look, I know that things have been heavy,” Neil said, “and we’re gonna have to take some time to sort it all out, but I just want you to know, I’ve got your back. You guys are awesome together, and trust me, MacKenzie, I wouldn’t do anything to get in the way of that.”

  Awesome together. The words were painful. Even if Claire hadn’t admitted to Neil how broken things were between her and Alec, Neil must have sensed it. Yet he seemed sincere. As if he thought they should be together.

  Neil looked at them both as he continued. “I’m glad you told me, Claire. Glad to not feel like I’m being lied to and laughed at behind my back anymore. So, I’m hoping … can we just move on now and be done with all the secrets and weirdness?”

  Alec heard Claire blow out a sigh of what sounded like relief, but she didn’t reply. And when he glanced her way, she appeared conflicted. So Alec filled the silence.

  “Uh—well,” Alec heard himself say, “I’m not a fan of weirdness, but I have good reasons for keeping my … situation … a secret. So does Claire.”

  Neil patted his temple. “I get that, and all of it will stay right here.”

  “Great, thanks,” Alec replied. “But … one day at a time?”

  “Yeah,” Claire agreed finally. “Just because I told you all that, Ne
il, it doesn’t mean I can tell you everything going forward.”

  Neil nodded. “I’ll take what I can get, Brennan.”

  She returned his nod. Neil turned to Alec now. “Like you said, one day at a time.” He extended his hand. Alec shook it. “Ow, dude, go light. Go light.”

  Alec almost cracked a smile. “I was.” Then he added, “And I’m sorry. For the fight.”

  “Not as sorry as I am,” Neil said, massaging his hand with a wince. “I’ll catch you guys tomorrow, then.”

  As Neil walked off toward his car, Alec looked back to Claire, hoping they could resume their conversation. But she was already slamming her car door and gunning the engine. She drove off with a quick wave.

  thirty-three

  As she drove home, Claire struggled to keep her mind on the road.

  The conversation in the parking lot was a blur. She couldn’t stop thinking about the terrifying vision that had hit when she’d hugged Alec.

  But who could she tell about it? Certainly not Alec. At least, not yet.

  Erica was out. Brian had been helpful in his own way, but he’d had a limited attention span lately. Neil? It was great that he didn’t hate her anymore, but it’s not like Neil could help with any of this.

  Her mother would just tell Claire not to get involved.

  Damn it, there was only one option.

  “Grandma?”

  It was nearly midnight by the time Claire got home. Helena wasn’t in her bedroom, but the muted gleam of light on the living room’s balcony gave her away. Quietly, Claire stepped outside and closed the sliding glass door, shivering in the cold night air as she wrapped her jacket more tightly around her.

  Helena was seated at the far end of the balcony, sipping from a teacup. But Claire didn’t spot a teapot on the small chair-side table. Just a whiskey bottle.

  “I thought Grigori didn’t drink,” Claire commented as she dropped into the chair beside her grandmother.

  Helena set the cup down, not even slightly embarrassed to have been caught. “After hundreds of years, everyone figures out their own way of coping with stress.” Turning to study Claire, she added, “This business with your father has been most vexing.”

  “Yeah,” Claire agreed. But that’s not all, she wanted to add.

  “Something else is bothering you at the moment, isn’t it?” Helena asked softly.

  Claire sighed. “I thought you weren’t going to read my mind anymore.”

  “I didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”

  “I had a vision.”

  Helena nodded, as if she’d expected that answer. “Keep your voice down.”

  “It’s freezing. Nobody’s out here at this hour,” Claire pointed out. “They’re all asleep with their windows shut.”

  “Nevertheless.”

  Claire continued in a whisper. “It was about Alec.”

  “He does have a dark past. Who was killed in this one?”

  Claire’s heart pounded as she replied: “Alec.”

  Helena’s back straightened. “Oh, dear.”

  “It wasn’t the past I was seeing. It was the future. I was looking through Alec’s eyes. He was onstage. I think our play was over, because everyone was in street clothes and the set was being dismantled. Our director asked Alec to take a table out to the stairwell for storage.” Sudden tears stung Claire’s eyes. “He used to play guitar for me sometimes in that stairwell.”

  Helena reached over and took Claire’s gloved hand in hers. The affectionate squeeze, although meant to convey empathy, only heightened Claire’s sense of fear and pain. Her tears came fast and furious now as she spoke.

  “So he/I took the table out to the stairwell. I sensed someone’s presence, but before I could react, something scraped across my throat. The pain! It was horrible! Blood gushed from my neck. I fell to the floor as Javed and Rico strolled past. Rico was pocketing a knife. I just lay helplessly on the ground as they disappeared up the stairs. And then, slowly … everything started to fade away.” Claire could barely breathe as she finished, wiping her eyes.

  “Dear Lord.” Helena shook her head, deeply troubled.

  “What am I going to do? I just experienced my boyfriend’s being murdered.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “No. We’re not exactly on the best of terms at the moment, and—if I told him, would it even do any good? I mean, I wasn’t able to stop the cougar attack even though I knew about it in advance.”

  “But Alec appeared and changed the outcome. You have to warn him about this.”

  “If I tell him, I know what he’ll do. He’ll try to find those guys, try to take them out ahead of time, and he might get killed anyway. Except then, I wouldn’t have this advance warning. I wouldn’t know the time and place.”

  “Why do Rico and Javed want Alec dead? Do you know?”

  Claire hesitated. She didn’t want to betray Alec’s trust, but the only way her grandmother could truly help was if she understood the situation fully. “Alec’s been doing some extracurricular stuff lately, monitoring the Fallen. Shane Malcolm is bottling his own blood with stolen human blood, to make a supersteroid for his lieutenants. Alec discovered where it’s being manufactured, and he … accidentally … burned the place down.”

  “Bloody hell! The damn fool.”

  “Javed and Rico attacked Alec on Valentine’s Day and almost killed him. That’s when Alec told me what was going on.”

  “Well. I’m glad you finally told me about it.”

  “Is there anything you can do, Grandma? To stop them from getting to Alec on closing night of the play? I mean, if Zachariah and the Elders knew about this blood-trafficking madness, would they go after Malcolm and take out Rico and Javed?”

  “I don’t know. I could go to them, keeping Alec’s involvement out of the whole thing, but it would have to be handled delicately. And I can tell you right now, a Grigori investigation will take a long time. By the time they made a decision, Alec could already be dead.”

  Fresh tears welled in Claire’s eyes. “So what do we do?” she whispered brokenly.

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “That’s all you ever say lately,” Claire griped, rubbing her eyes.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’m sorry. But all we do is talk about this stuff. We never do anything. If we could just …” An image suddenly appeared in Claire’s mind: of her standing in front of Malcolm’s house. Malcolm, in the doorway. Looking at her with that charismatic smile of his.

  That was it, she realized. Helena might not like the idea, but what choice did they have? Claire took a breath, and continued, “We could just negotiate.”

  “Negotiate? With whom?”

  “With Malcolm. I could beg him to back off. Offer something in exchange, to get him to call off Rico and Javed.”

  Helena’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Claire. “Offer what in exchange?”

  “Me. Myself. He’s been begging me to work for him. That’s all I have to do. Say yes. And while I’m at it—”

  “Claire,” Helena interrupted fiercely.

  “—while I’m negotiating to save Alec’s life,” Claire went on, “I could throw in one more request. I could ask where my dad is.”

  Her words hung in the air. Claire was determined to keep her face a blank as she stared back at Helena, whose hazel eyes were as cold as ice.

  “Absolutely. Not.”

  “It’s not just for me, or even for my dad,” Claire shot back defensively. “This is to save Alec’s life!”

  Helena continued to glower. “Do you understand how dangerous it would be, to put yourself into Malcolm’s debt? Do you have any clue what the Fallen would do with someone of your abilities?”

  “I can guess,” Claire responded, recalling the disturbing image of her father, d
rugged and bound. But I’m going to do it anyway. To protect Alec, I’d do practically anything. Just as he’s done for me.

  And I don’t need your permission.

  “I know I promised to stay out of your head,” Helena snapped, “but if I have even the faintest inkling that you’re attempting something so foolhardy as this, all bets are off.”

  Claire’s jaw set. Alec’s life was in her hands. She had no choice. She had to fix this. But there was only one way to do it, without her grandmother’s hanging over her every thought.

  She’d have to erase this conversation from Helena’s memory.

  Claire’s stomach clenched at the notion. She’d promised herself never to use her mind-control power again. Twice, the outcome had sucked, big-time. But not every time, Claire reminded herself. It had worked on a Grigori before, kept Zachariah from recognizing Alec. Would it work on a psychic as powerful as Helena?

  There was no way to know without trying. And if she was ever going to have a shot at it, she’d have to strike now, when her grandmother’s senses were, hopefully, diluted from the whiskey in her teacup.

  “Okay,” Claire said, firing up the worry and fear and tension inside her. “You’re right. I know you’re right.” As she spoke, she concentrated on this thought: I’m not here. We never had this conversation. You’ve been out here alone all evening.

  Helena blinked. “Of course I’m right …”

  Claire repeated the phrase over and over, both in her mind now and aloud. “I’m not here. We never had this conversation. You’ve been out here alone all evening.”

  Her grandmother hesitated, shaking her head, as if struggling to concentrate. “Stop that,” she said hoarsely.

  Rising to her feet, Claire increased her focus, drawing on her emotions as she continued her mental and verbal onslaught.

  “Damn it,” Helena muttered, glancing at her cup on the table, seeming to grasp what was happening. “Damn, damn, damn …” She clutched her forehead.

  Claire swallowed hard, a wave of guilt washing over her. She channeled it into the mental cables she cast out, an onslaught that took so much effort, she had to cling to the balcony railing to remain standing. “I’m not here,” she persisted. “We’ve never had this conversation.”