‘Is that …’ I began.
‘Titanium?’ he finished my sentence with a raised brow. ‘You’re a smart cookie.’
‘Why?’ I asked, nervously. Titanium was metal that exiles used as a defensive tool. It helped them stay hidden from Grigori. Phoenix had an entire Antanov plane lined with the stuff.
Peters shrugged, waiting for the last covers to click into place before taking his hand off the lever. ‘Titanium doesn’t just protect exiles. It works both ways.’
‘You mean it affects exiles’ ability to sense us too?’
He nodded. ‘Not as effectively, but still, every little bit counts in these situations. Grigori generally stay away from it because they think the advantages are greater for exiles. I disagree.’
I hadn’t considered it before but, especially in our current circumstances, I had to agree with Peters’ logic. If nothing else, the physical strength of the titanium shields would help hold any attackers at bay for a time.
I turned my attention to Lincoln. Almost all the colour had drained from his face.
‘We still have a while before Griffin arrives. Sit,’ I ordered.
Lincoln hesitated for a moment, but finally dropped into a chair so that I could heal him. I knelt in front of him and rolled up his ripped, blood-soaked jeans.
‘Don’t fuss,’ he said, quietly.
‘Don’t back-seat drive,’ I retorted. I was so relieved to finally have my chance to fix him, I didn’t even care that Father Peters was watching. I pulled back the remaining scraps of fabric to get a good look at Lincoln’s leg. ‘Mother of–’
‘A-hem,’ Father Peters cleared his throat loudly.
‘Sorry,’ I apologised then glanced at Lincoln. ‘You should’ve let me look at this earlier,’ I said, cross with him. His leg was twice the size it was supposed to be and bubbled with red welts and black bruises.
He closed his eyes, trying to hide the pain. ‘It wasn’t important.’
I continued to fume even as I let my power surge into him. He tried to stop me a few times, saying I’d done enough, but I wasn’t having it.
After healing his leg, I checked the rest of his body, finding more problems in his ribs that he hadn’t mentioned and that his shoulder was still very weak.
Lincoln couldn’t contain a sigh of relief when the pain that must have been torturing him finally eased.
Eventually, I sat back on my heels. Both of us were silent as we pulled ourselves together.
‘Well, well,’ said Father Peters. ‘And they say miracles don’t happen these days.’
I gave him a sceptical look as I settled down beside Lincoln for the wait.
‘No offence, but you should know my jury is well and truly out on the God issue,’ I said to Peters.
My comment only seemed to amuse him. He sat on a low step at the base of the marble altar. ‘You might not have made your mind up about Him, but He sure seems to have made a decision or two about you.’
‘I’m not buying what you’re selling, priest,’ I responded, refusing to go down that road.
He laughed. ‘Consider it on the house.’
Ha.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
‘Be bold, and mighty forces will come to your aid.’
Basil King
Griffin arrived at the church exactly on midnight. We watched from the small, elevated look-out not covered by titanium. He was careful, like we’d been, taking the long route, going down side streets and circling back in case anyone was following. We couldn’t spot anyone from our vantage point.
Finally, he headed around to the back entrance, where Father Peters was waiting to let him in.
I could barely breathe with anticipation and when Griffin walked in I leaped from my chair.
‘Your father is fine,’ he said immediately.
I staggered forwards with relief. I’d been trying so hard not to think the worst, but running like that, leaving him behind, had gone against every natural inclination.
‘Thank you,’ I said, throwing my arms around him.
‘I told you I would look after him,’ Griffin responded, hugging me back. ‘He came around not long after you left. He’s in the infirmary – a few cracked ribs, bruises, nothing major – but after everything that has happened I’m not too hopeful the Academy will be willing to release him any time soon.’
I nodded. That wasn’t exactly good news, but far better than it might have been. I was just going to have to go and get him out of there, the first chance I got.
After Griffin embraced Father Peters and thanked him for taking us in, we settled down to hear Griffin’s account of what had happened at the Academy.