Violet Eden Chapters 04 - Endless

go, using the momentum to push himself forward so that he fell with his chest facing down for the last ten floors, protecting me from the impact of the fall.
    He’s going to take the hit!
    Everything in me wanted to stop him, wanted to use my own momentum to roll his body so that I was on the bottom. But I didn’t. He was right; we were no use to each other if we were dead or unconscious. The only way out of this was if I was in good enough shape to heal him when we stopped.
    What the hell is going on? Why are we running from the Grigori?
    We hurtled towards the ground and I braced, not wanting to hurt Lincoln when we landed and determined to remain breathing.
    The landing sent a violent shock through my body and I instantly felt consciousness slipping away. But Lincoln was beneath me and he wasn’t moving, so somehow I held on, summoning my power as I crawled off him and, avoiding the flames that were licking the walls around us, flipped him onto his back. I didn’t let the blood, the broken bones or the shoulder that had dislocated again sink in or slow me down. Because on top of all of that I could still hear people, Grigori , yelling from the top of the lift shaft for us to hold still.
    My power flaredand I let it flow hard and fast. Never before had I willed it to work so quickly. Responding to my urgency, the space around us filled with my amethyst mist. So much so that it hid us beneath a purple cloud as it worked to find Lincoln’s injuries while I shoved his shoulder back into place. His burnt hands were stripped to the bone and the smell made me gag, but I kept going. When Lincoln’s eyes finally opened, he screamed in agony, grasping my arms as I stared at him, concentrating all of my power to fix him. Nothing, not even the sound of people nearby, took my focus away.
    When Lincoln’s hands, face and shoulder were healed I went over his legs. One had snapped in two, bone piercing through his torn pants.
    ‘Jesus!’ I cried, failing for a moment to supress my horror, before forcing my healing into him as he screamed again.
    Once his breathing was steady and his leg was mended, he grabbed my hand. ‘Let’s move!’ He jumped up, the man who had been on his deathbed just seconds ago, and yanked open the lift doors with his inhuman strength.
    Once we made it outside, we fell into pace alongside each other, running through the New York streets, putting five, then ten, then fifteen blocks between us and the Academy buildings. We didn’t slow to a walk until we hit a pedestrian-heavy street.
    ‘What’s going on?’ I asked finally. I needed to know what the hell had happened. But then I noticed that Lincoln was limping. ‘Damn. We need to get you somewhere. You’re still hurt.’
    ‘We’ll be there soon,’ he said, not stopping.
    ‘Linc!’ Ishouted, exasperated. ‘Why are we on the run?’
    ‘Because Griffin told me to get you out of there. I don’t know everything yet but he said they’d take you prisoner if we stayed.’
    ‘Why?’ I pushed, confused.
    He started to pick up the pace again. ‘I think Griffin believes Josephine will try and pin this whole thing on you. She’s already started to claim you’re sympathetic to exiles.’
    Oh my God.
    They’d lock me up and throw away the key. I never would have made it out without Lincoln and would have had no chance of going after Evelyn.
    ‘Griff is going to meet us at midnight. Until then, we need to stay hidden and make sure no one follows him to us.’
    ‘How do we do that?’
    ‘By being prepared.’ He started to lead us down a side street.
    ‘Where are we going?’
    He almost smiled, but the limp and the fear killed it. ‘We’re going to church.’



CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
    ‘He will order his angels to protect you wherever you go.’
    Psalms 91:11
    ‘T he Church of the Guardian Angel?’ I asked, sarcasm dripping from my voice as we stood across the road from the unassuming red-brick church, scoping it out. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
    Lincoln grinned briefly and gestured to our surroundings. ‘Would you prefer to stay out here?’
    Only then did I actually register the people staring at us in our torn and blood-soaked clothes. We looked like we’d just walked away from a car wreck – or a massacre.
    Lincoln was doing better now that we weren’t charging through peak-hour crowds, but he was clearly hurting more than he’d admit. He stubbornly refused to let me look at him, insisting we get inside first.
    I accused