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
It 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.