Embrace

by Jessica Shirvington

The door swung closed behind me with a heavy thud and I bolted down the stairs, listening for the sound of feet following. There was nothing. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or not.

  It was still drizzling but afternoon sun was breaking through the clouds. I didn’t bother putting up the umbrella. I just ran.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘Man has no Body distinct from his Soul; for that called Body is a portion of Soul discerned by the five senses, the chief inlets of Soul in this age.’

  William Blake

  I ran for as long as I could, ignoring my burning legs, afraid that if I stopped I’d have to admit I had nowhere to go. I hadn’t been in a situation in a long time where my sanctuary was not Lincoln’s place. I couldn’t face going home and just sitting there, alone. I thought of Steph and knew she’d be waiting to hear from me.

  I slowed to a walk and pulled out my mobile phone. Steph was speed dial two. Dad was number three and Lincoln number one. They were the only ones I had bothered programming.

  She answered on the second ring.

  ‘About time! How’d it go? Details, details.’

  I tried to hold back the tears already stinging my eyes. ‘Not well.’

  ‘Oh, honey. I’m sorry. I never liked him anyway!’

  Steph and I had a rule. You always swing with your friends. If they like a guy, so do you. If they break up with that guy, you instantly hate him until otherwise instructed. She was swinging.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘He’s been lying to me… Big lies.’ Even as I said it, I still couldn’t believe it.

  ‘That bastard. Don’t tell me he has a girlfriend.’ I heard her slap something heavy on a table.

  ‘No, nothing like that.’ I braced myself to tell her everything. I didn’t want to keep this a secret from her, the way it had been kept from me. I opened my mouth to tell her the whole sordid tale, starting with my mum’s surprise birthday present, but I was overwhelmed by a compulsion to avoid the subject. I waged an internal battle and in the end all I managed was, ‘He…he’s…just not the person I thought he was.’

  ‘He didn’t try something, did he? ’Cause if he did, I can get Jase and some of his mates to go round and deal with him. A few of them would have him in a minute.’

  I wondered if that was actually true, but I appreciated the sentiment. ‘No. Nothing like that – and anyway, I already hit him.’

  She burst out laughing and I couldn’t help but smile for a moment too. It had been ridiculous of me to try to use physical strength against him.

  ‘Good for you. I hope you gave him a black eye!’ she said with false bravado. Steph had never hit anyone in her life.

  ‘I think my hand sustained most of the damage.’ I flexed my right hand. It was still aching from the ill-conceived punch.

  She laughed again. ‘I’m deleting him from my contacts as we speak.’

  I nodded in agreement, even though she couldn’t see me. ‘Delete away.’

  ‘Why don’t you come over for a girls’ night?’ she offered. ‘I’m fully stocked – DVDs and mint-choc ice cream.’

  ‘Thanks, Steph, but I think I need to be alone.’ I knew I’d be terrible company. Right now, the only person I could stand to be around was myself, and that was only because I had no say in the matter.

  For what seemed like forever I wandered the city aimlessly, wanting to be somewhere else – wanting to be someone else. I thought about Griffin’s words. There had to be some other explanation, a way out of this mess. But somehow I knew he had been telling me the truth. It was crazy to find out all of this stuff, to discover my whole life had been a lie. But even as I felt besieged by my new knowledge, I knew deep down it was all shadowed by something else, something worse – my heart was breaking.

  Eventually, my feet refused to carry me any further. I turned the next corner and was disappointed to discover I’d subconsciously brought myself close to home.

  I took the next turn into my street and had to stop and lean against a wall for a moment. I couldn’t breathe – every time I drew in air it got stuck until finally I had to bend over, arms around my waist, and hold back the scream.

  When finally I straightened and moved through the crowd of people on the pavement loading into after-work buses, I saw Lincoln standing outside the doors to my apartment block. My heart, which a moment ago seemed to be shutting down for good, bounced all over the place.

  I had just spent God knows how long walking aimlessly around the city like a mental patient in the making, and with everything swirling around in my head one thought kept sneaking back in – It sounded like he was about to tell me he loved me. I rubbed my face with my hands and pulled on a fistful of hair. Maybe if I had just accepted all the lies, forgiven him and listened patiently as he explained, I could be in his arms right now. It was enough to make me reconsider my actions for a moment – but only a moment.

  He seemed different as I took those final steps towards him. I had never seen him look so…scared. All his grand plans at stake!

  ‘Go home, Linc,’ I said, trying not to look at him, trying not to stop.

  ‘I know you don’t want to see me.’ He put a hand out in front of me, gently stopping me in my tracks. ‘But I have something that might help you. Might answer some questions. Can I come up?’

  I looked down at his hands. He was holding a small wooden box I recognised immediately. My eyes flashed up and then quickly back down. I didn’t want him to know I had seen a box just like it before.

  ‘You can come into the lobby.’ It was the most I could muster. A big concession on my part as it was.

  ‘I don’t think this is something we can do in the lobby.’

  I raised my eyebrows at him and crossed my arms, daring him to push his luck.

  ‘Whatever you think of me at the moment, I can help. My car is over there.’ He looked across the street to his black Volvo four-wheel drive. ‘Maybe we could talk in there. It won’t take long.’

  I had a mind to say no, but something in me, that increasingly annoying part that somehow couldn’t drag itself away from him, overruled. Weak!

  I followed him to the car and we got into our usual seats, though nothing was usual about today. Lincoln adjusted his position to face me, moving a little closer in the process. When he saw the look on my face he shifted back a bit.

  ‘I was going to tell you, Vi. When you came over the other night to start on your mural, I was going to tell you everything. Quietly, properly. But then I bumped into your dad and he told me…’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘So it ruined your plans,’ I said wryly. ‘I’m sorry it was such an inconvenience for you.’

  ‘No, that’s not it. I was glad you told me. It meant a lot. I just didn’t want to bombard you with all of this… I wanted to give you more time.’

  I snuck a glance at him from behind the curtain of hair I’d draped between us. His green eyes glistened and I swallowed hard before I shook myself out of it.

  ‘There were plenty of other opportunities, Lincoln. Just say what you came to say.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what rank you’re from or what strengths you will have. You’ll only find out when you embrace. As for sensing exiles…I may be able to do better than just tell you.’

  He placed the small wooden box in my hands. As he did, our fingers brushed ever so slightly and I flinched, moving my hands away. A look of pain swept over his face before he was able to mask it.

  I opened the box, which was almost identical to the one Dad had given me two days earlier. It was covered in the same intricate carvings but it looked newer, not as worn down by time and hands. Inside lay two wristbands. Like the one in my mum’s box, they appeared to be metallic but closer inspection showed they were again leather with a silver finish.

  ‘What are they?’ I asked, not conceding I had recently seen another one.

  ‘Connectors. We receive them from our angel guides when we embrace. When we wear
them, we’re able to take away an exile’s power if we are locked with them in a physical hold. They also enhance our ability to sense exiles. Most Grigori never take them off…’ He stopped. I figured the end of the sentence was something along the lines of – but then, they haven’t been lying to someone every day about who they really are!

  ‘Try one on,’ he encouraged.

  The words in my mother’s letter replayed in my mind. Believe the unbelievable. This was the choice she had known would lie ahead. Had she been a Grigori? I looked at the silver bands in the box that was not my mother’s but Lincoln’s. Everyone seemed to know what was going on. Everyone but me.

  Although I had held the band my mother had left me, I was still nervous to touch these ones. The thought occurred to me that Lincoln might have an ulterior motive and my heart tightened at the realisation that I must now consider this.

  ‘What happens if I touch them?’ I asked. I placed the box down on the centre console just to be safe.

  He nodded to himself slowly. ‘You don’t have to do anything you feel uncomfortable with. When a Grigori first holds the bands or puts them on, we experience a flush of the senses unique to each Grigori.’

  ‘You sense something every time you put these on?’

  ‘Yes – briefly, and then it goes away – unless an exile is near. It may not have any effect until you embrace anyway, but I thought it might help you understand.’

  I bit my lip, considering just getting out of there. Since I’d already bolted once today, it didn’t seem as dire to consider a repeat performance. It was that very thought that forced me to stay. I wouldn’t run again. I reached my quivering hand towards the bands, hovering over the closest one. I felt it before I touched it. A vibration, almost a hum of energy around it, like it was reacting to me. I picked it up.

  When my fingers connected with the leather, I smelled…flowers, fields of flowers. Like someone had sprayed perfume under my nose. It faded just as quickly as it arrived. Then I heard birds flying, flapping wings and trees swishing. I looked around for the source of the noise. There was nothing. I couldn’t decipher if it felt peaceful or chaotic. Moving my tongue around in my mouth I thought I tasted something familiar…apple? But it was too brief to be sure.

  Overwhelmed, I closed my eyes. The outside of my eyelids flashed, like someone was flicking lights on and off. I opened them, but again, there was nothing, just Lincoln sitting in the same place, watching me intently.

  The next sensation took me by surprise and my muscles seized. Lincoln moved towards me instantly, putting a hand on my arm. It felt warm against my skin, which was buzzing with a cool heat. It was a conflicting sensation – hot yet cold at the same time. I heard Lincoln gasp and release my arm. He was saying something but I couldn’t hear him over the sound of beating wings. The intensity of the feeling travelling up my arm was building so much that I started to panic. I was about to drop the band when Lincoln again put a hand on my arm. Something like a cool wind blew through my body, starting from within me and working its way out, taking the odd sensation with it. I dropped the band and fisted my hands repeatedly.

  ‘Are you OK?’ His voice soothed me.

  I took a few breaths and gripped my legs hard. I needed to get control of myself. I needed to be stronger around Lincoln, not show so much weakness, not any more.

  ‘I’m fine. Does that always happen?’

  He was monitoring me carefully. ‘It’s a bit different for everyone. They’re designed to enhance our senses, to alert us when exiles are near. Most Grigori will be able to get one sense strongly, like smell or touch, some feel more. What did you feel?’

  I ignored his question. ‘What happens to you?’

  ‘I hear birds and wind. I also smell flowers. Sometimes I think I might feel something, but I’m not sure. It’s unusual enough to have two senses so strongly, it would be unlikely I’d have a third. Griffin smells flowers too. We smell combinations mostly, but sometimes he says he can narrow it down a little to help identify an exile he has come across before and whether they are light or dark. It takes time to develop though.’

  I thought about what I had sensed. I had definitely heard the birds and smelled the flowers. I was pretty sure I’d tasted the flavours of apple, but I wasn’t sure. There had also been the weird light-flickering and the cool heat at the end, but I didn’t know what that meant. I suddenly felt self-conscious.

  ‘Does anyone get all of the senses?’ I tried to sound offhand.

  He studied me, searching my face. ‘No. Three is the most I’ve ever heard of. Two is unusual enough. Vi, tell me what you felt.’

  ‘Is it the same with the other one?’ I said, looking towards the other silver band.

  ‘Yes.’ He was getting frustrated. ‘Violet, you’re avoiding the question.’ He’d used my full name. It made me not want to answer him at all, but then I had been using his full name more and more today as well. I guess the distance was growing.

  I considered telling him, but instead all I let myself say was, ‘I might have heard something. I’m not sure.’ I looked down at my hands that were now clenched so tightly I could feel my nails digging into my palms, practically drawing blood. Lincoln reached over and covered them with his own and I couldn’t help it – I still wanted him. I relaxed my hands for a minute and he took hold of them gently. I closed my eyes, allowing myself a brief indulgence. Then I took a deep breath, let it out and pulled my hands away. He let me.

  ‘Violet?’ he pushed. He knew me too well, but right now there was no way I could afford to let my guard down any further.

  ‘That’s it. That’s all I felt. I did what you asked, Linc, now…just…just leave.’

  I could see him warring with himself as he watched me get out of his car, but I knew he wouldn’t fight me on this – and he didn’t.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘There are things even angels desire to look into.’

  Peter 1:12

  On the first day, I sat at the top of my bed and watched out the window. Out of sight. Lincoln stood, leaning against the bus shelter, twelve storeys below. Waiting for me. It was exactly 6.30 am – the same time we met every weekday morning. I had made it a condition of our early morning runs that he come bearing coffee and we walk the first kilometre so I could drink it. I hugged my knees tight and watched while, for more than an hour, he stood. Waiting. Coffee in hand. Eventually, he tossed the cup in the bin, looked up towards my window, and left.

  On the second day, it was raining, but there he stood, at 6.30 am. Coffee at the ready. He didn’t seek cover under the bus shelter. He stood in the same place as always for more than an hour, watching my window. I sat in bed – I hadn’t left it since the day before – and tried, unsuccessfully, to read my book. When he dumped the coffee in the bin and walked away in the drizzling rain, my hand went to the cold glass window. It stayed there until long after he was gone.

  On the third day, I stared at my alarm clock. 6.30 am came and went. At 7.00 am, I hauled myself out of bed. In fact, I showered and dressed. T-shirt, tights and runners, not that I had any intention of going for a run. I paced around the kitchen, made a coffee and didn’t drink it. Finally, I grabbed my keys and left the apartment. Outside, it was crisp and clear. It would be hot today. I looked in both directions before I allowed my eyes to veer towards the bus shelter. There was an old lady sitting down, knitting something that looked disturbingly like it would match the horrid green thing she was wearing around her shoulders. But that was all. He’d already gone.

  On the ledge, near where he would wait for me, a takeaway cup was tucked into the corner. I stepped towards it to make out the words written down the side. Just three words.

  ‘I miss you too,’ I whispered.

  Determined not to spend another day cooped up, hiding away, I went for a walk and eventually wandered into a café. Coffee was one thing that wouldn’t let me down. Not to mention there was no food at home, unless you counted two-week-old Chinese leftovers. I was starving
.

  The cafe, called Dough to Bread, was crowded with inner-city types grabbing early morning goodies and takeaway coffees. There were a dozen small tables at the back that were about half-filled. I took the furthest one so I could be as far from the activity as possible but still be able to watch. I needed to concentrate on something other than the crumbling foundations of my world.

  I ordered a latte and pumpkin soup with a hot crusty roll. The waiter gave my selection a disapproving glance from behind his little pad. I couldn’t give a stuff what he thought. I needed comfort of some sort and if there was a slim chance a soup and coffee breakfast combo was going to do it, then bring on the ladle.

  I sat back and watched the mayhem. I imagined it was probably the same customers in here every week, with the same staff ignoring them and the same huffs and mutters being thrown around. It was almost soothing to be surrounded by such superficial chaos.

  I pulled out my art diary and tried to sketch but I kept being distracted by the family sitting closest to me. He was reading the morning paper. She was giving their toddler pieces of toast and jam, which the little girl proceeded to wipe all over her face and the wall behind. The woman laughed as the toddler squealed and he couldn’t help peeking over the top of his paper every few seconds to watch them, admiring the view.

  That’s what it was supposed to be like. Two people meet, fall in love and then do normal things. I knew now, I’d never have normal again, especially with Lincoln. He was a Grigori and glad of it. I could see in him that it wasn’t just something he did, it was who he was. It was a cruel truth to be faced with; that I had cared so much for him, yet never known the very thing that defined him. I had shared myself with him completely and in return had not even been trusted with the highlights.

  I tried to distract myself again and noticed a guy sitting on the other side of the room. He was facing in my direction, and I caught him watching me before his eyes darted away. He seemed familiar but I couldn’t place him. I was struck by his hair, of all things – at first look it appeared black but then I saw other colours rippling through it, shades of purple and silver. It reminded me of a rough opal. I wondered how a hairdresser could have managed such a complex blend of streaks. It was beautiful and…vain.