Entice

by Jessica Shirvington

  There was a loaded pause. Then we both burst out laughing, which kind of hurt more.

  “Okay, maybe you are in a way—but this armor you insist on having up all the time is going to cost you if you keep forcing every point—even with Lydia Skilton.”

  I grimaced. “You heard.”

  “What? That you kicked her ass three times in a row and she basically ran off the field crying?”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” I said, sure Steph was exaggerating.

  She waved a finger at me. “Hey, no one enjoys watching Lydia get a taste of her own medicine more than me.” It was true. “But not when it leaves you in this kind of mess.”

  I put my head between my knees and tried to snap out of it. At least I knew the fatigue wasn’t pregnancy. Never had I been so happy for an emergency dash to the pharmacy as when I got my period earlier in the week. I shuddered to think of what one mistake with Phoenix could have meant for the rest of my life.

  “You know what’s wrong with you?” Steph said.

  “Concussion.”

  “No. Honey, you have buyer’s remorse.” And she was right. Lydia was annoying, but I could’ve let her win one. I had drawn on my Grigori strength to one-up her. I should have let her win one.

  Steph dragged me to last period. At least it was art.

  By the time I walked out of the school gates, I was feeling a little better. Art always helps, gives me some time out, an escape. And when I saw Lincoln leaning against the tree across the road, waiting for me, I felt better again.

  And then worse.

  He was holding my training bag. Shit.

  I said good-bye to Steph, who was heading off with Jena Powell so they could work on their chemistry assignment, and crossed the road to Lincoln.

  As I got closer, my power stirred, recognizing him as it always does, and my heart skipped a beat as it always does. He ran his hand through his hair and I wondered for a moment whether he felt it too—either one.

  “Hey,” I said. “I didn’t think we were exile hunting today.”

  “We’re not. We’re running,” he said with an intense determination.

  “Oh. I kind of already went for a run today.” I really didn’t want to have to back up again.

  “Not like this. We’re going cross-country, out of the city. We’ve been spending so much time on combat training and hunting lately that we’ve been forgetting the basics.”

  “And what are they?” I asked, looking at the ground, willing myself to pull it together.

  He waited until I looked up at him and then he held my eyes. “How to get away.”

  When did Lincoln become concerned with getting away? We were the stay-and-fight type.

  He started walking toward his four-wheel-drive. I just followed.

  What else are you going to do, Vi? Tell him you’re not up to it? Not likely.

  • • •

  We headed to the outskirts of the city, to a national park. I changed into my running gear in the backseat when we stopped. Lincoln grabbed a couple bottles of water and waited by the hood, not once turning in my direction until he heard me get out and close the door behind me. Then we were off.

  It was pretty crazy terrain, not like running on a track or even a path of some description. I knew that was why Lincoln had chosen it. It’s not like you get to choose your surface when an exile is running after you, but then again, if an exile is running after you, generally the best thing you can do is stop and fight. They’re almost always faster than us.

  Half an hour into our unnaturally fast run, I could feel myself sweating and my heart racing. Before I knew what was happening, I tripped over a rock and went down. Lincoln, who had been cruising a few paces ahead, stopped and was at my side in an instant.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, putting his hand on my back only to then quickly move it away.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, brushing myself off, trying hard not to remember the last time I found myself lying facedown in the bush.

  Lincoln’s eyes went wide, as if seeing me in a different light. “You’re not well,” he said, putting his hand on my forehead, upset with me.

  “I’m okay,” I lied, but I couldn’t slow my breathing enough to be convincing.

  “Why didn’t you say—” But then he stopped, remembering who he was talking to. “You’re still feeling the effects of last night.”

  I stood up but had to lean on him a little. My arm and shoulder rested into his chest and I wanted to sink even farther, to let myself go. He supported me, as always, but I could feel he was keeping a distance.

  Because of the kiss.

  I closed my eyes briefly, then took a step away.

  “I’m good, just a little tired. I can go on; just give me a minute.”

  He studied me for a moment before giving me a small smile. “You know, I forgot the New Yorkers are arriving tomorrow. We’ve probably done fifteen k. That’s enough for today; they’ll want you fresh for tomorrow. How about we grab some dinner and I take you back to yours? I’m starving anyway.”

  He was giving me an out. I didn’t have to admit I wasn’t feeling good or that I wasn’t up to it. I nodded, unable to say it out loud, knowing my agreement was still a semi-admission. Of course, he didn’t push it.

  As we walked back to the car, Lincoln paused at regular intervals. He mixed it up, stopping to tie his shoe or have a drink. Once, he even said he wanted to look at the view. Every time, I knew he was doing it to giving me a moment to rest.

  We detoured on the way back to my place to get dinner supplies. When Lincoln says we’ll just grab something on the way, he means grab something to cook. He isn’t big on takeout and knows there is zero likelihood of finding anything edible and unexpired at my place—other than coffee and milk, that is.

  Dad wasn’t home when we arrived, which was no surprise to either one of us. Lincoln set about organizing his ingredients and the kitchen. I think he’s actually the only person who’s ever cooked a proper meal there. Dad and I are useless.

  After I had showered and changed into clean sweats and a T-shirt, I felt much better and sat down to a plate of grilled fish and vegetables with a lemon-butter sauce. Lincoln, who had changed into a pair of jeans and a fresh black T-shirt, poured me a Coke and grabbed himself his second beer.

  “So I guess Griffin doesn’t need you tonight,” I said, watching as he raised the bottle to his lips, the silver finish of his wristbands glinting under the downlights. He never took them off anymore. He saw no point now. I was jealous he had the choice.

  It was unlike him to have a second beer. Usually, he is so restrained, just in case we get called out or something. He turned his full attention to me for the first time since I’d come back in the room. Something flickered across his face, his eyes staying on my wet hair.

  “No. I think we’re all clear. He’s out of town tonight anyway. He’s gone to pick up Magda.”

  Oh, great.

  I just gave a nod. “So, did you tell Griffin about those exiles last night? About what they said and stuff?”

  Lincoln took another sip. “Yeah, I filled him in on what happened. How’s your fish?”

  “Good. Thanks.”

  Lincoln talked me through a few exercises he wanted to do over the coming weeks, if we could fit them into the schedule around school, the new Grigori timetable, and hunting. I nodded, happy to do whatever, as long as I would get to be around him.

  I yawned when we started clearing away the plates, and Lincoln took that as his cue, grabbing his keys.

  “You need to rest.”

  But before I could tell him not to leave or he could say he was going, my phone rang.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “It’s Dapper,” he snapped, gruffly. His hostility actually came through on the phone.

  “Oh. Hi.”

 
; Where did he get my number?

  “Listen, you wanted me to tell you all when there was a problem—you got it. Get your asses down here. Now!” He hung up.

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at it in horror.

  “Who was that?” Lincoln asked.

  I sighed. So much for rest. “Dapper. We have to go back to Hades.”

  “Change is not made without inconvenience, even from worse to better.”

  Richard Hooker

  When we walked into Hades, I didn’t escape another look of disapproval from the same bouncer who had been there the night before. Clearly, I wasn’t dressing to his standards. I wondered what he would do if he were actually able to see the big-ass dagger hanging from my waist. Actually, by the looks of him, he’d probably smile.

  We made our way to the bar, which wasn’t easy. It was peak time and the place was packed with partygoers who had already been drinking for a good few hours. Dapper was behind the bar, serving. He was chatting to some random, having a laugh. When he saw us, his smile vanished and I actually heard him grunt.

  Lovely.

  “I’m too busy for this,” he said to us, looking down to the other end of the bar, which appeared surprisingly quiet. “I called your boss man. He gave me your number. You made him, you deal with him. Whatever you do, do it somewhere else.”

  We went to the quiet end of the bar and quickly discovered what was keeping it desolate. I’m not sure if I smelled his foul smell or heard his foul words first. Either way, it wasn’t the first time that I had experienced them both. I looked at Lincoln. He rolled his eyes and went over to where Onyx was sitting. The closest table had two girls sitting at it and one of them was crying. I figured there was a good chance it was Onyx’s handiwork.

  “Onyx, you have to leave,” Lincoln called over the music.

  Onyx looked up for a very brief moment. He was so drunk I didn’t know how he was managing to balance on the barstool.

  “Onyx!” I yelled, trying to get his full attention.

  “You! You did this to me,” he slurred.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Made me this. Nothing. Why didn’t you just send me back?”

  The truth? At the time, I had no other choice. I was injured and I didn’t have my dagger. He was going to kill me, so leaving him powerless had been my only option. But now, knowing the dagger difficulties I’d been having, the answer didn’t seem quite so simple. Maybe I wouldn’t have been able to kill him, even if I’d been armed.

  “Onyx, you’re human, not nothing. You got away with doing a lot of really horrific things. You should be in jail or something, but you’re not. You should be happy to have another chance.”

  He said something obscene under his breath.

  When I turned to Lincoln, he was watching me. I tried to stay neutral, but he saw through me. I could never get anything past him.

  “If you blame yourself for this, you’re crazy, Violet.” He put a hand on my shoulder.

  “I don’t blame myself. I just know that he was supposed to be entitled to a choice. I took that from him. He wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for me.”

  “Neither would we.” He watched me for a moment longer, then we both looked over at Onyx, the problem we seemed to have inherited.

  “You’re not going to be able to walk away, are you?” Lincoln asked, but as he looked back at me, tilting his head slightly, he didn’t need my answer. Instead, he just nodded.

  “Come on,” he said, heading back toward Dapper.

  “What are you going to do?”

  He smiled. “Just watch out for flying glasses.”

  He wasn’t wrong. When Lincoln suggested to Dapper that Onyx spend a couple of nights in his staff apartment, more than glasses were thrown. His ammunition consisted mostly of words, but there were also half a dozen limes, a pestle (without the mortar, thank God!), and half a bucket of ice. By the time he’d finished, the area around Lincoln had cleared to a good fifteen-foot diameter, which was a fair space in a bar so full. Nearby, girls were squealing while guys were cheering Dapper.

  “It’d only be for a night or two,” Lincoln tried to reason, brushing ice shards out of his hair and patting down his clothes. A girl standing near him started to help, brushing her hand down his back. Lincoln turned around and she smiled sweetly. I rolled my eyes.

  “Ah, thanks, I’ve got it,” he said, stepping out of her reach. He turned back to Dapper and I was sure he purposely avoided my eyes. “We have nowhere else to send him. He’ll behave himself. Well, at least you’ll be able to close him away upstairs. And…we’ll owe you one?”

  I didn’t think Lincoln had a chance when Dapper grabbed a cloth and started cleaning down the bar, ignoring him. I turned to walk away but Lincoln grabbed my hand. “Just wait a minute,” he whispered in my ear.

  I nodded, totally preoccupied with his hand that was still holding mine and was somehow burning a hole through me. Just as quickly he let it go without looking at me again. I bit my lip.

  I didn’t think they could, but things are getting harder.

  Sure enough, a few minutes later, Dapper returned his attention to us.

  “Two nights, no more. If he’s in the bar, he has to pay, and if he gets drunk, he has to go upstairs and…two nights! That’s it!”

  Stranger things have happened, and to me, but this was impressive. It seemed Dapper had a soft spot after all, and it was the lovely Lincoln who brought it out in him. Steph was going to have a field day theorizing this one.

  We helped a very ungrateful, but thankfully unaware, Onyx upstairs and into the staff apartment. It was a studio with a little kitchenette and a sofa that folded out to a bed. Plain but nice. The staff clearly didn’t use it much because everything was still in good condition.

  Lincoln and I contemplated trying to get Onyx into a shower, or at least undressed, for about a millisecond before we both held back the gag reflex and dropped him on the fold-out bed. There are some things that even the best of us cannot do.

  As we made for the door, Onyx flopped over onto his back and laughed his high-pitched cackle. “He’ll come for you, you know.”

  Lincoln spun around so fast he was back beside Onyx in a flash. “What are you talking about?”

  “Not talking about you.”

  I had a bad feeling about this. “Who is coming for me?” I asked, staying by the door.

  “Last time I saw him, he was only interested in two things. Funny how closely his interests mirror both of yours. Clearly,” he addressed me, “you’re—pathetically—chasing the Grigori list.” His smile widened as he turned to Lincoln. “And we all know what you’re most interested in.” He glanced back in my direction.

  I ignored his provocation and absorbed what he was really saying. “When did you see him?” I asked. The hairs on my arms prickled and a thrill ran through me. I didn’t know if it was dread or anticipation. Phoenix.

  “Just before he left. He found me, brought me some whiskey.” He gave an exaggerated nod and almost rolled off the bed.

  “What did he want?” I asked, my throat tightening with each word.

  “To know what I knew about the Scriptures and…you.”

  I took a step toward him. I wanted to know more. But Lincoln pulled me back.

  “You’re insane, Onyx.” Lincoln looked at me. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He just wants to upset you. Phoenix is gone. Let’s go.”

  I nodded for Lincoln’s benefit and let him lead me out, even though I felt like our exit was premature. Before I closed the door, I turned back to see Onyx watching me, grinning stupidly.

  Why are we helping this guy again?

  “We learn that there are in the Creation, Beings—perhaps very numerous—both good and evil.”

  Richard Whatley

  In the morning, I wipe
d the steam from the mirror in the bathroom only to wish I hadn’t. By the time Lincoln had dropped me home, it was close to 2 a.m., and because I needed to be at the airport by 6 to welcome the new Grigori, my sleep time had been seriously cut short. Plus, what sleep I did actually get had felt restless with a familiar dream.

  Dressed shabbily in the only school clothes I could find—that is, from the floor—I set about making my first cup of coffee on what promised to be a high-caffeine-content day. I gulped the first one down and was in the process of making a second cup, simultaneously wringing out my still wet hair, when Dad came out of his room dragging a large suitcase.

  “Morning, sweetheart,” he said, as he parked the suitcase by the front door and came over to give me a signature kiss on the top of my head. His face was warm and soft—just shaved. “Is that for me?”

  I looked down at the coffee I’d just made. “Sure,” I said, handing it over and setting about pouring another. “I didn’t think you were leaving until tonight.”

  Dad was flying out to visit his international clients. He goes on the same trip every year, which is almost more flying than anything else, traveling from Tokyo to Dubai to Paris. It used to take about three weeks, but he’d gradually been scaling back. Last year, he was home in a record ten days. This year, he’d managed to schedule the trip into one week. Given the chance, Dad would prefer to remain locked in his office where he can actually keep the rest of the world away, but certain clients insist on face-to-face dealings.

  “I’m not, but just in case I get caught up at work, I…”

  I nodded. He didn’t need to say any more.

  “So,” he said, changing the subject and putting on his responsible parent voice.

  I wondered if maybe he had heard me sneaking in this morning, or noticed I wasn’t in bed last night. I glanced at him watching my hands as they gripped the frothing milk jug. I double-checked that the markings on my wrists were covered properly by my silver bracelets. All the other Grigori receive leather wristbands, but for me, the markings are part of my body. They wrap around my wrists in a swirl of silver, like a tattoo or something, and when I use my power, they react, churning like a river of mercury, reflecting different colors. Steph says I’m my own walking mirror ball and swears one night she’ll talk me into putting them to the disco test.