Endless (48 page)

But I was too weak. I fell back and closed my eyes.

It was over.

I had
failed.

I felt hands on my legs, on my arms. My eyes opened. Looking down on me from above was Simon and three of the other kids.

No.

‘Get … o-o-out,’ I stammered.

But they just crouched beside me and Simon shook his head. ‘And what would we say to God when he asks us why we left one of his angels behind to die?’

‘I’m not … angel,’ I tried to explain, because no matter what I wanted, I knew they would not be strong enough to carry me all the way out in the smoke and if they didn’t leave now, they would never make it.

‘Yes, you are,’ said the girl at my arm. It was Katie. ‘I dreamed an angel would save us. It was you in my dream,’ she said, her eyes perfectly innocent.

‘So did I,’ said another girl at my leg.

‘So did I,’ said the boy at my other arm.

‘And I,’ said Simon.

Everything started to go black. I tried to tell them to go again. I tried and tried.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was being carried up the stairs by the children. Their strength alone was inexplicable, but even more so given the oxygen-starved air and unimaginable heat. Hell had found us and they faced it head on, fearless. I blinked.

We moved
through the burning hallway, the fire raging around us and yet, the children marched straight towards the belly of the flames as if they knew they would part.

And they did.

I realised then, it was my angel maker doing this.

I closed my eyes again. It didn’t stop the flood of tears.

I was carried out the front doors and down the steps. I could hear voices, orders being shouted, people running everywhere.

Everything suddenly stopped. All the sound, all the movement. Still.

Then a woman’s voice bellowed. ‘Clear their path!’

The children began to walk again and I felt strong hands move under me.

I could hear Griffin. ‘Hold on, Violet. Hold on!’ he said, over and over.

I was put down on the grass and a figure crouched beside me. It was Josephine. It had been her voice I had heard. Our eyes met. Blood and soot covered her face. Oh, she’d been in the thick of it tonight.

I wondered briefly if Josephine might end me there and then. But she just turned away and started calling out orders to someone behind her.

‘Get Evelyn! Tell her … Tell her her daughter is alive. And fetch the medics, now!’ She paused, then opened her mouth again. ‘You, you and you: she’s one of ours. Protect her!’

She looked down at me. ‘You foolish girl. I don’t know how you killed
her or how you’re still alive, but you’re damn well going to stay that way so you can explain it to me later.’

How ironic, I thought, that just as Josephine had decided I’d proved myself to be one of them, I had realised that I wasn’t.

She stood, issuing more orders as she moved away.

Griffin stayed beside me as the medics started to wrap bandages around my wounds. I faded in and out of awareness. I could hear him talking to me, telling me to fight.

Another body slid to the ground beside me. Hands grabbed at mine.

‘Violet,’ Evelyn cried, ‘I’m here, baby.’

But I couldn’t speak.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It was the most I could do.

Evelyn seemed to understand, but she pulled me into her lap nonetheless and began to rock me back and forth. And then she told me the only thing that would make me want to keep breathing.

‘We got him out. I don’t know if it helps, but we got Lincoln out.’

I didn’t know if it helped either. I didn’t know if it meant anything. The pain was crippling, almost breaking through my tenuous hold on life. I closed my eyes as my mother rocked me. I went within myself, down to the darkest corridor in my power, and found the switch at the very end. I glided towards it, something singing out, warning me to beware.

I flicked the switch.

‘Thank you, Phoenix,’ I whispered.

Everything went black.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

‘The sadness will last forever.
’

Vincent van Gogh

I
t was quiet. Early mornings were
always the quietest time.

I barely slept any more. Dreams brought little rest. I sat on my bed, looking out the window of my twelfth-floor apartment. The world moved on below, safe, for now.

It had been three weeks since that night at the estate. We had been the victors. Funny that the pedestal came with no joy.

I looked around my room. It used to mean home to me. Now it just reminded me of everything that I wasn’t. I stood up. I was strong again. It had taken over a week for them to release me from hospital. I had healed in days, of course – a fact Grigori doctors had kept hidden – but they’d insisted on keeping me in, sedated. They didn’t tell me why, but I knew they were all scared I would do something to myself.

Dad or Evelyn had sat with me every day. Eventually, other visitors were allowed in, too. Steph had been the first. She cried and told me all the things that had been happening. She told me how sorry she was. I tried to listen, but stopped her when she started to talk about Lincoln.

After that, others
came, but I never spoke, even when Josephine turned up and stated that she still had questions. Part of me suspected she was tempted to imprison me and Evelyn again, but after everything that had gone down, there was no way she could do so and save face. On another, more generous level, I understood that Josephine was a true fighter. And when she looked at me now, it was different. She knew I could destroy exiles and to her, that made me worthy.

She informed me the Grigori Scripture was in her possession and assured me it would never again fall into enemy hands. Frankly, it seemed dangerous enough that it was in hers.

Her parting words were: ‘Your Grigori testing has been re-evaluated, to a unanimous pass.’

I didn’t respond.

Now, two weeks after Griffin had arranged my release from hospital and departure from New York, I was back home and stronger than ever, with both my angel maker’s power and Phoenix’s essence running through me.

I hadn’t seen Lincoln. I hadn’t spoken about him, except to instruct Griffin that he would be coming home with us. Every now and then someone would mention him. I didn’t listen, just flicked the switch and tuned it out.

Even when my angel maker came to me in my dreams, I’d discovered I could hit my new switch, blocking him out when he told me we needed to talk. Night after night, I sent him away. Wisely, he chose not to override my will. Yet.

The coldness had remained. It seeped into my bones so I was frozen all the time. The only other thing I couldn’t stop as hard as I tried was my mind, despite the numbness. Over and over I relived the events of those final days and nights – all the choices made
by so many different people and how those decisions landed me where I now was.

Broken.

I pulled on my hiking boots. The time had come. Dad was waiting for me and I couldn’t delay any longer. I walked out to the kitchen. Evelyn was there, cooking breakfast. Dad was lounging on the sofa, reading the paper. They were happy, in their way, but there was a sadness about them, too.

Almost eighteen years had been stolen from their time together. Dad was only getting older while Evelyn looked young enough to be my sister. And it would only get worse.

Evelyn came up to me with a plate of food. She was wearing cream pants and a navy silk shirt, her hair recently restyled to help her look older. She held out some scrambled eggs. I shook my head and looked away.

Our relationship had changed. For some reason, right now, my parents ‘got’ me better than anyone else. Maybe it was the understanding of loss, the pain you can’t imagine unless you have felt it rip through your body and soul. But even as Evelyn put down the plate that only reminded me of Lincoln and wrapped her arms around me, I couldn’t return her embrace. Empathising, she backed away and I was grateful.

Dad pulled up outside Lincoln’s warehouse.

‘I can come in with you,’ he said, again.

I shook my head.

He sighed. ‘Okay. Call me if you need me.’

‘Thanks,’ I said.

Walking up the
front steps, it was so familiar. For a couple of beats I let myself pretend it was normal. That I would knock on the door. That he would answer.

I shut it down.

It was a warm day, but I wore layers, wrapping them tightly around me, trying to keep the cold away. It was useless. The cold came from within.

I stood on the threshold. I could sense people inside. It took me a long time to knock.

Griffin opened the door. He hadn’t known I was coming and his surprise showed. He held the door open and I walked in slowly, trying to keep my legs from buckling under me. Steph and Salvatore were in the kitchen. They stopped talking when they saw me.

Steph automatically started towards me, but paused when she saw my closed expression. I hadn’t been able to talk to her at all. Nor to anyone, really, but especially her. Of all people, I knew she was the one I had to keep at arm’s length. I could tell it hurt her, but I think she understood.

Spence walked out of his room, in old faded jeans and an equally faded red T-shirt, and stopped in the hallway.

‘Eden,’ he said as I passed.

I didn’t reply. Couldn’t.

I heard someone talking inside Lincoln’s bedroom. I stood at the open door. I didn’t look at the bed. Instead I focused on Dapper, who sat beside it. He was reading a book aloud.

When he saw me, he stopped reading. I said nothing, so he simply closed the book, placed it on the bedside table, stood and left the room. His hand brushed my shoulder as he did.

I stepped inside
and closed the door behind me.

Every step towards the bed was shakier than the last. I looked down at him, my eyes finally seeing him. The air left my lungs and every muscle in my face ached.

A feeding drip was connected to his hand. He was silent, like he was sleeping, but … he was not peaceful. He was not really there at all.

I didn’t cry.

I crawled onto the bed and curled up beside him, resting my head on his shoulder. I stayed like that, silently, for the rest of the day.