Read Emblaze Online

Authors: Jessica Shirvington

Tags: #Angels

Emblaze (8 page)

Oh! No … NO!

The lift ride was torturously slow as I bounced up and down, only stopping when the back of my head banged against the mirror, cracking the glass. By the time I reached the bottom and flung myself out of the fire exit I was running faster than I"d ever run before.

A lot can happen in a couple of hours.

We were all there.

I ran through the city streets, pushing past people, not slowing to be polite. A horrible twisting feeling raked its way through my insides. Four blocks on I saw Lincoln sprinting towards me, Griffin and Spence following close behind. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Lincoln slowed when he saw me, looking relieved. It just made me move faster. All the time we had spent on this stupid exchange and on keeping
me
safe - we were so stupid!

I kept going, running so fast it hurt but trying desperately to move faster. Lincoln must"ve realised because he was back at full speed within a second. I took the next turn, heading straight towards Hades. Dapper had repainted the entry door again. It was now fluorescent yellow. Standing out like a beacon.

Lincoln was behind me. I heard him yell my name, but I didn"t wait. I kept my eyes on the entrance and the bouncer who watched me approach. I yelled at him, „Door!" without slowing down. He swung it open just in time and I ran through.

Hades was heaving. It was after midnight on a Wednesday night and the place was sardined. I took a direct line, pushing past people so hard that some fell over. The music was loud and though I could hear it, I was in some kind of trance, consumed by unfathomable thoughts so horrific they scraped through my mind like sharp knives against brittle edges.

I threw myself into the unmarked door at the side of the bar and bolted up the stairs, taking two then three at a time.

Steph should"ve called. She
would"ve
called.

I reached Dapper"s door, which was ajar. I heard Lincoln pound through the door below.

He was still yelling something at me, but I wasn"t listening.

I went in.

CHAPTER EIGHT

„Since my people are crushed, I am crushed; I mourn;
and horror grips me."

Jeremiah 8:21

When I was seven years old, Dad and I were driving home from a weekend away. I remembered being so excited when we"d first set off, thinking Dad and I would have two whole days to hang out and go to the beach. The drive there had been three of the happiest hours in my childhood. I spent the entire time daydreaming about all the things we would do

- the exploring, chatting, laughing. I really believed that weekend would change everything, certain that spending some real one-of-one time with Dad would make him realise …

But it wasn"t like that.

It was me who realised.

We only went away so Dad could meet with some new clients. As soon as we got there I was dumped with the hotel nanny and a bucket and spade. I didn"t see him again until we were getting back in the car to go home.

I was devastated. Dad was oblivious. We were silent for the first two hours of our drive back. I spent the whole time trying to build up the confidence to tell him what I really thought of his so-called „weekend away". I was just about to open my mouth when it happened.

We"d been driving on the freeway. You move so fast on those things - when something goes wrong, it"s bad.

I remember staring at him really hard, trying to make him look back at me with the power of my seven-year-old glare when there was a loud bang, then another - like explosions.

They were so close, immediately urgent, immediately dangerous. Before I could see anything, we went straight into a station wagon. My whole body jolted forwards, the seatbelt doing little to hold my slight frame in place. If Dad"s hand hadn"t been there to push me back, I would have flown right through the windshield. To this day I don"t know how he got his hand there so fast.

Or bonnet crumpled like a piece of paper. Steam and smoke rose from the car, melting into the heated air of that hot summer"s day, rippling reality.

Dad screamed at me. At first I thought I was in trouble, until I realised he was just panicking. I nodded, frightened, and that seemed to settle him, the rigid tension in his expression easing slightly. Then we looked ahead.

We were not the main event. We"d barely caught the tail end.

Three maybe four cars were in front of us, all in varying degrees of compressed state.

And in front of them, a truck was visible and maybe another car. I wasn"t sure.

Dad got out and circled our car. I don"t know what he was looking for, petrol perhaps.

Whatever he saw, he was satisfied enough to leave me there, ordering me not to move until he returned. I watched as he went to the station wagon we"d crashed into. The passengers were okay, I realised, because Dad didn"t stay for long at each car, moving on up the line.

I heard sirens in the distance, but when I looked behind me the traffic had been brought to a halt and it was clear to would be some time before an ambulance could make its way through the new car park.

People were stating to move around me, running forwards into the disaster zone.

I found myself out of the car and caught up in the tide of people. I could see Dad running ahead. He was the first to reach the truck. I wondered if he had helped anyone out but then I got closer and saw him through a gap in the cars.

He was bending over.

I hurried towards him, thinking he must be hurt. I hadn"t even asked him if he was okay before he got out of the car.

I weaved my way between bystanders, dodging pieces of wreckage but when I burst into the open space where Dad was standing, I abruptly froze.

He wasn"t helping anyone. He didn"t know how.

The truck had gone right over a small family car. It was completely crushed. The truck driver was alive. Still sitting in the front seat. He didn"t look hurt at all. At least, not on the outside.

But I saw his face.

He looked right at me. Beneath him, there was no sign of life and when he looked at me -

even though I was only a kid - I knew he wished, desperately, that his fate had been the same.

It was his fault.

-

When Lincoln burst through the door behind me I tore myself from the memory and saw only the scene spread before me. Dapper, on the floor by the minibar, covered in blood, mutilated. His apartment had been torn apart, as if a herd of elephants had stampeded the place and then come back for a second run, just to be sure.

I stood barely a few steps inside. Frozen.

Lincoln came in behind me and gasped. I turned my eyes to him and I knew the look I wore was the exact same one that truck driver had given to me ten years ago.

It was my fault.

-

Lincoln didn"t hesitate. He took one look at the scene, one look at me and, just as my father had ordered me to stay in the car, he ordered me to stay where I was. And I did, for a while.

Dead. Dead. They"re all dead. My fault. Phoenix knew. Knew me. My fault.

I watched as Lincoln ran to help Dapper, feeling through all the blood and exposed flesh, looking for vitals. The only way I knew it was really Dapper was his diamond-studded belt -

it was wrapped around his neck, embedded in the flesh.

Lincoln carefully but quickly unwrapped it.

That"s when I saw the thing that changed everything something that the truck driver never had the chance to see.

Dapper"s fingers … moved.

„He"s alive," I gasped. And that was all it took.

Maybe, just maybe. Oh, please, please, please.

I flung myself into action, bolting past Dapper and Lincoln knowing I couldn"t do anything to help there. I ran through the living area into the hallway, where I pulled up, almost falling over myself.

Onyx.

I crouched beside him. Like Lincoln had. I tried to ignore the blood, the massive swelling over his face. His shirt had been ripped off and he"d been beaten so badly that some of his ribs had broken outwards, one poking through his chest.

I swallowed down the urge to be sick and I tried to breathe through my mouth. Now that I was more lucid, the senses were pressing down on me. Demanding, I know.

Apple poured through my mouth, giving the illusion that it was flooding my airways and that I couldn"t keep swallowing so much. Regardless, it was better to breathe through my mouth - the scent of flowers was so overwhelming and had made the air so dense it was impossible to breathe through my nose effectively.

I didn"t know where to start. Onyx was alive, I knew that much. He was breathing impossibly difficult, short shallow breaths.

Not nearly enough,
was all I could thing.
That"s not nearly enough air.

Then I looked again at his ribs, puncturing the space where his lungs were.

I put my hands lightly on his chest. I didn"t know what was better, keeping my eyes open or closed. It was practically impossible to concentrate over the blinding flashes of morning and evening - so strong, switching between searing sunlight and the darkest of moonless nights.

„Onyx," I forced through my strangled throat.

His puffy eyes opened bloodshot slits. His arm moved slightly and I grabbed his hand.

„H-he…"

„It"s okay, you"ll be okay," I lied. Because looking at him, looking at what they"d done to him and Dapper, I didn"t think they"d be okay at all.

My eyes flitted away, further down the hall.

The bathroom and the bedroom to go, I need to look.

But I couldn"t just leave him

He gripped my hand a little tighter. I looked at him and then it occurred to me: maybe he wanted this? He"d wanted someone to kill him. End it. He"d asked me t do it myself when we"d found him drunk and on the streets. He never wanted to be only-human. Maybe this had all worked out for him.

He tried to speak.

I bent forwards, trying not to touch anywhere that would hurt, which was everywhere.

„H-elp me."

I watched his swollen eyes, trying to force themselves open properly, to show me the truth in his words. Onyx wanted to live.

My hand, still holding his, stirred. I put my other hand to his face gently. Then I let my power go, let it flow from me to him, wanting to heal him, to give him this chance at life. But I hit a brick wall, which almost made me black out.

I heard more people arrive, orders being shouted out. Griffin.

Spence came running into the hallway. „Jesus," he said.

I stood up. „I can"t help him. I can"t heal him." I shook my head. „He wants to live," I said.

But my eyes were fixed on the end of the hall again, urgently.

Spence dropped down beside Onyx. „I"ll help him. Go!"

I was at the end of the hall before he finished telling me to go. I don"t know how long it had been since I entered the apartment, less than a minute maybe. Less than a minute for everything to change. And yet I knew, in a few seconds … everything could get so much worse.

Steph. Please, no! my fault, not hers.

The bathroom was clear. In the bedroom, I found Kaitlin and Samuel. Kaitlin was out cold, but her Grigori strength had protected her and, though bruised, looked in a much better state than Dapper or Onyx. Samuel was already trying to get up.

I ran to him, putting a hand under his arm to help him.

„Samuel, Samuel! What happened?" I screamed, even though now I knew.

„There were eight of them that I saw. They caught us by surprise."

And I understood why. We"d expected to be dealing with all the action tonight, out on the rooftops.

Samuel looked over at Kaitlin and raised his fingers to a head wound dripping with blood, before looking back at me. „We should be dead."

He was right.

But I couldn"t focus. I couldn"t concentrate on the other details right now. I heard sirens coming from out in the street. Griffin had called ambulances. Onyx was human and Dapper, although not altogether human, clearly needed medical attention.

„you should get her out of here. You don"t want the ambulance trying to cart her away," I said, in a daydream to Samuel. The last thing we needed was doctors getting their hands on a Grigori when they were in a rapid-healing mode. Way too many questions there.

Samuel nodded, scooping Kaitlin up and heading for the door.

I followed him out. He didn"t even pause to look at Onyx or Dapper. He had his job to do and right now that was to get Kaitlin to safety. He was a good partner.

Spence was still talking to Onyx, giving words of encouragement. Onyx was gripping his hand. There was a time, after Spence jumped him and beat the information we"d needed from him, when I didn"t think those two would get within five metres of each other. But that had been the beginning for Onyx in some ways. His true beginning, his human one. Spence had forced him to admit he valued his life, and now was helping him keep it.

Griffin had taken over from Lincoln with Dapper and when Lincoln saw me come back into the room he looked at me with urgent eyes. Griffin turned, too.

They"d obviously seen Samuel taking off with Kaitlin and Onyx down the hall. Everyone was looking at me for one reason,.

I wanted to wake up. Or go back,

My fault.

I wanted to go back to the day I"d told her - convinced her that this otherworld existed, invited her to be part of it. Why? Because I needed her. I didn"t want to let go of my human world, lose her, too.

My fault.

„Violet?" Lincoln prompted.

I started. He was right in front of me. I hadn"t even noticed him walk towards me. He grabbed my arms. I though he was going to shake me, but he didn"t
I should"ve seen this coming. Phoenix saw me coming. He knew I couldn"t just hand over
the Scripture to release Lilith. He knew me and played me and I … I walked right into it.

I heard the medics slam through the doors downstairs and their feet on the stairs. They were calling out, announcing themselves as they moved. I wondered fleetingly if people still filled the bar, dancing and drinking while above them …

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