Jessica Shirvington - Empower

Lincoln pointed to the chair. ‘I stopped by your room and grabbed a few things from Zoe,’ he said.

‘Thanks. God, we shouldn’t have—’

‘Yes, we should have,’ Lincoln said adamantly.

I shook my head. ‘But we should’ve waited.’

‘No. We shouldn’t have.’

‘But we … and he … It wasn’t fair!’

Lincoln grabbed me by the shoulders. ‘I’m not going to apologise, Violet. You were hurting. Do you think I was going to let that go on once I knew you were ready? Do you really think Phoenix would’ve wanted you to go on? He more than anyone would know what pain you’ve been living in. Christ, Violet, I felt it in you last night. I have no idea how you survived the past two years.’

His expression was so haunted that all I could do was nod and fall into his arms. ‘Okay. Okay.’

His shoulders relaxed.

‘But the whole house heard us?’ I asked in a small voice.

The quiet chuckle returned. ‘Possibly the whole street.’

I groaned.

He chuckled again.

I found Phoenix on the roof. It was the first place I looked. Maybe it was because of the shared essence that I could easily sense him. Or maybe it was just because it was us, and I knew him.

He was in his usual black pants and had on a lightweight navy sweater that really suited him. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking down towards the now-quiet streets of the French Quarter.

I was sure he knew I was there, but he didn’t turn to face me.

We stood in silence for a minute and then I said, ‘I’m sorry.’

I could almost feel the effort he was putting into closing off his emotions from me and it made me sad, though I understood. ‘I’m not,’ he said.

When I didn’t respond, he went on. ‘It’s terrible, isn’t it? I’d take so much back, if I could. But also, I’m not sorry in so many ways. Do you understand?’

He’d found me. Phoenix had found someone he wanted to love, someone he did love. It had pulled him apart and hurt both of us, just as my love for Lincoln had. It was still there and its effects had been both terrible and beautiful. But they had been his choices. His will. Griffin had once said it perfectly, when I’d faced my choice to embrace, knowing how hard the decision was and that it must be made of my free will: he’d called it a terrible freedom. Phoenix’s love for me had been his own version of this. But he’d found his strength in it as well. His redemption.

I reached out and took his hand and when he wrapped his fingers around mine I could feel our connection. More than friends. More than a past relationship. More, even, than a mutual essence. We were a shared story, a history, and still … an unknown. We stood together, holding hands, looking out to the world and not at one another as I promised him, ‘I understand.’

After a few minutes he cleared his throat and I wondered if he’d been crying but I still didn’t look. It seemed like we’d agreed to not allow our eyes to meet.

‘What am I going to do?’ he asked, not just me, but the universe.

‘What do you want to do?’

‘Apart from slaughter Lincoln, you mean?’

I almost smiled, but it was too close to the truth. ‘Apart from that.’

‘I want all I’ve ever wanted: I want to belong.’

My heart clenched to hear the sadness in his voice and because I didn’t know how to make that dream a reality for him.

Of course, he knew this and didn’t wait for me to come up with some lame response. Instead he changed the subject. ‘Sammael wants the ultimate power over life and death. He hates Michael more than any other angel. Michael has thwarted his every plan and Sammael wants his revenge.’

‘How, Phoenix?’

‘By bringing Michael to battle.’

‘But no angel is permitted entry to earth, not in a physical form. There’s no way an angel like Michael would do that.’

‘I know,’ he said. And in just those words, the way he said them, I understood.

‘The link between the realms,’ I whispered. Phoenix, still holding my hand, squeezed. ‘My blood.’

‘Your blood.’

By the time Phoenix and I came downstairs, everyone was assembled in the living area, preparing to move out to the navy vessels that would become our base of operations from here on out. Steph was in the corner looking giddy. I was about to force my expression to neutral but then I spotted Lincoln standing near the door to the kitchen, his eyes fixed on me, and there was no way to stop the smile.

Screw it! They all heard everything last night anyway.

So, in front of everyone, I strolled towards him, smiling when his eyes widened. By the time I reached him he was smiling too. And then I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him.

Wrapped in melted honey and sunny days, I laughed at the variations of cheers, whistles and calls to ‘Get a room’ but mostly, I just basked in all that was Lincoln and our love.

Finally ours.

When I pulled back and looked over at Steph she was crying like a baby – with a big smile on her face. I winked at her. ‘That quiet thing really worked.’

She burst into a snotty laugh and Salvatore put his arm around her, while Gray, standing alongside them, gave them a hopeless look. But when I caught his eye he gave me a quick wink – his blessing. And it meant a lot. He’d held me together the past year and our friendship had come to mean so much more to me than I had ever before let myself acknowledge.

‘Can we please go and kill some exiles now?’ Carter called out gruffly. ‘No wonder I never wanted to work with you people. It’s like a bloody soap opera!’

I looked over at him, smiling, but in full agreement. It was time to go and get Spence.

‘They’re out on the river,’ I said, surprising everyone in the room except Lincoln.

‘That’s impossible,’ both Ray and Leila stated.

I shrugged. ‘You’re just going to have to accept that I’m right. And I am. Once we get down to the river I’ll see if I can help you see through the glamour they’re using.’

‘What exactly do you mean when you say they are on the river?’ one of the conductors asked.

‘They have a big-ass steamboat.’

Ray shook his head. ‘There’s only one steamboat left in these parts and that’s a tourist attraction.’

‘The red and white one?’ I asked.

‘Yes, that’s it.’

‘Yeah, well there is another one: it’s grey with blue trim and it’s got all sorts of bad coming off it. There’s also a helipad on the top. My guess is that’s how they’ll bring in Spence.’

I looked at Steph, who had pulled herself together and refocused. ‘What did you find out?’

She stepped forward. ‘Dapper was right. It appears New Orleans is Sammael’s city. He made it, and as far as he’s concerned, that makes him God. We believe he’s played many roles in the history of the city. He was one of Marie Laveau’s husbands and through her he controlled the focus of religion and worship. But Sammael is Voodoo. He used exiles and Nephlim to create illusion and influence human minds, generating belief in all of his magic. He was behind a number of terrible slaughters and massacres and we suspect he was even responsible for the many disasters that have touched this land. The floods, the yellow-fever epidemic, the hurricanes …’

‘But why would he attack his own land?’ Carter asked.

Steph nodded, happy with the question. She was turning into such a scholar. ‘Because it’s sinking. Close to seventy per cent of the city is already below sea level and only protected by the surrounding levies. In just the past seventy years more than seven hundred thousand acres of wetlands have disappeared.’