Shattered Grace

Quentin stared unseeing on the other side of the bedroom door. The burn of the seneschal band was so hot, it almost matched the searing of his rage. Overcome, he wanted to destroy everything around him. Anger consumed him. Instead, he stalked the length of his room and back again. He hoped he was doing the right thing by pulling away. Hurting her over and over again was ripping him to shreds. She didn’t deserve it. He knew that. He didn’t know what else to do.

And crying? What a damn wuss. The moment Grace felt Amanda’s pain, he was overcome with a grief so profound, he couldn’t control his own tears from falling. That was when he had to find her. He didn’t expect to see her in a crying heap over her distraught friend. Through Grace, he could feel the tremendous anguish Amanda was experiencing, and his heart broke for her. For them both.

Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his cell. “Laney, can you get home?”

“What’s going on?” He could hear the panic in her voice.

What was going on? He had no idea what the hell was happening, but he knew he couldn’t be the one to handle it. “I’m not exactly sure. Grace’s friend Amanda is here and they’re both crying. They need a woman, not me.”

“I’ll be there in a little bit.”

The blankets shuddered as Amanda shivered beneath them. Grace figured the best way to get her warm was to run a bath. She hurried to the bathroom and leaned over to turn the tub’s faucet on full, then pulled a washcloth and towel from the closet before returning to Amanda’s side. “I’m running you a bubble bath. Everyone knows that bubble baths will cure almost anything. Come on.” Amanda let Grace help her up and lead her into the bathroom, but when they got there, Amanda stood stock-still. “Do you need help?” She didn’t answer.

Grace carefully peeled off her clothes that now fit like a wetsuit, leaving only her skivvies. And like a little girl, Amanda let her. Grace’s eyes fell on faint scars marring the soft curves of Amanda’s hips. A choked cry stuck in Grace’s throat. She blinked rapidly, forcing the tears back. “Amanda, I’m going to step out so you can take your bra and panties off. I’ll come right back in when you get in the tub, if you want.” Amanda nodded, and she left the bathroom.

In the middle of her room, Grace tried to imagine what would cause Amanda to cut herself. Her heart shattered. While trying to give Amanda a few extra minutes, and some time to wrap her own head around what was happening, Grace grabbed extra sheets from the linen closet down the hall and laid them on the chaise lounge in the corner of her room. She rapped her knuckles against the bathroom door. “Amanda? Can I come in?”

“Uh-huh,” Amanda squeaked through her sobs.

Grace sat on the floor next to the tub. Helplessly, she watched her friend cry. Grace grabbed the washcloth and wiped it gently down Amanda’s cheeks, washing away the blackened smears.

“You were right,” Amanda said. “He doesn’t love me.”

Grace swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Amanda.” She wished she could go back to the school hall and take back all she had said. An “I told you so” seemed like such a hollow and petty thing at this point.

Amanda turned her swollen, tear-filled blue eyes to Grace. “He said I did this on purpose, that I’m trying to trap him.” Amanda lifted her arms, water and bubbles falling like rain, as she covered her face with her hands. “God, Grace, what am I going to do?” Grace didn’t respond. “Even my mom doesn’t want me.”

“Amanda, your mom loves you.”

Amanda’s arms fell back into the water with a splash. “No, she doesn’t.” She began to cry harder, her tears plopping into the bubbles with gentle plinks. “She told me to get out tonight and called me a whore.” Lips quivering, she barely got the words out.

“She kicked you out because you told her about you and that guy?” Grace’s face flushed with heat, and she balled her hands into fists on the cold tile.

“No.” Amanda turned away from her. “It’s because …” She choked up a little, before turning her face slowly back to Grace, her eyes brimming with pain. “I’m pregnant. And I don’t know what to do. I can’t be a mother. I have nowhere to go. I don’t have a job. What about school?” She dropped her face into her hands and cried harder. “What am I going to do?”

Grace pulled Amanda’s hands away from her face, wading through another onslaught of painful sensations, and held them in hers as tears fell from her eyes as well. “I’ll tell you what you are going to do, Amanda. You’ll stay here. And whatever you decide, I’ll be here to help you through it. You’re not alone.” Images of Amanda cutting herself had Grace pulling her back into her arms. “Not anymore.”

A while later, Grace stepped out to give Amanda some privacy and to grab her some clothes. The bed was already remade. She smiled, and promised herself she would thank Quentin tomorrow. Grace quickly changed into some pajamas and checked on Amanda. She took the clothes Grace offered through the crack of the door. “Thank you.”

Laney came in as Amanda was coming out of the bathroom, and hugged and cried with her too. She was the one who had made the bed. Laney brought some melatonin to help Amanda sleep, but Grace didn’t know how effective it would be, considering. Grace got her tucked in and laid down next to her, holding her as she continued to cry.

By the next afternoon, Amanda knew for sure she wanted to end the pregnancy. After she told Grace that Michael, AKA the jackass, had thrown money at her and told her to take care of it, Grace took the money and threw it in the fireplace. “But I don’t have any money,” Amanda cried.

Grace walked back to Amanda, wrapping her arms around her. “You don’t need his. I’ll give it to you.”

“I don’t even have a job to pay you back,” Amanda protested.

“Then pay me back when you can,” Grace countered softly.

The closest clinic was in Salt Lake City, only a fifteen-minute highway ride away. They didn’t have an appointment available until Thursday. Amanda knew she couldn’t go to school until after it was done; she would be too much of an emotional mess, and Grace agreed. She promised to get Amanda’s homework for her, and to take Thursday and Friday off with her.

The girls sat around the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday. Amanda didn’t eat much. Quentin was in and out, only coming into the family room with goodies and movies he thought they might want. He still didn’t talk to Grace, but spoke softly to Amanda. Grace appreciated his kindness all the same.

Come Monday, school was rough. Amanda’s emotions were hard for Grace to shake. She was glad Amanda stayed home. If it was tough for her, it would have been nearly impossible for Amanda.

All week, Emily and Leah tried cheering Grace up. They left her alone during lunches, hovering close in case they were needed, even though they were in the dark about what was going on. Zeke walked her to most of her classes, and even brought her a coffee Tuesday morning, and then again on Wednesday.

Darius surprised Grace at home twice. She ate up the surprise hugs and kisses like manna. With gentle hands, he cupped her face, and told her he’d be back over in a flash if she needed him. He promised he’d have his phone on him always.

On Thursday morning, Grace solemnly got ready for the appointment. She didn’t need to touch Amanda to know she was scared. She gave her a hug and assured her, “It’s going to be okay.”

Amanda gave her a forced smile, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I know.”

The fifteen-minute drive to the clinic was deafeningly quiet. Grace wanted to cut through the silence, but what could she say?

The clinic looked like a normal medical facility. No protestors marched with picket signs and miniature coffins like you see in the movies. Grace was glad for that, because she couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t krav maga someone in the throat if they harassed her friend after all she’d been through.

Amanda didn’t have to wait very long in the waiting area. A nurse explained she was going to speak with a counselor first, then have some lab work done. She then told Grace that Amanda would be ready to go home in a couple of hours, depending on how long it took her to wake from the general anesthesia.

Exactly two hours later, the receptionist told Grace she could pull around and pick Amanda up. Slumped against the arm of the wheelchair, Amanda stared at the ground. Grace grabbed the pain medication and after-care instructions from the nurse, and drove Amanda home.

Amanda didn’t come out of Grace’s room for a few days. Grace had been worried about her, and was relieved when Amanda agreed to counseling. Although significant, she knew Amanda was haunted by more than an affair and an abortion; the scars on her hips were proof of that. Laney made a counseling appointment for Monday morning, telling Grace she could take Amanda so she could return to school.

“Thank you, Mom.”

Laney gave Grace a hug. “You’re welcome.”

Other than the training Quentin told Grace they had for Saturday, she hadn’t spoken to him since Amanda arrived the week prior. The good news was that because of her Nephilim blood, she was already at black belt level in krav maga, and they only needed to train once a week. The bad news was, she’d only be speaking to him once a week at the rate they were going. She was beginning to feel desperate to know what was wrong.

By Sunday, Amanda practically pushed Grace out the door to see Darius. “Go! Don’t sit around here with me.”

Grace sat at Amanda’s feet on the couch. “Are you sure? I feel bad.”

Amanda nudged her with a foot. “I’m sure.”

Over the phone, Darius assured her they would do something low-key, and told her not to eat. Grace smiled to herself at the excitement in his voice. Because they still weren’t talking, Grace texted Quentin to let him know her plans. All she got for a reply was “Okay.”

An hour later, Grace heard someone pull up outside. It didn’t sound like the motorcycle. She really hoped Ari and Lux had stayed home. If not, she might have to fake a sudden bout of stomach flu. Peeking out the door, she was glad to see Darius in Ari’s truck, alone. She yelled out a general good-bye to the household, then met Darius at the truck.

Darius’ face lit up as soon as Grace opened her front door. Instantly he scooped her up into his arms, kissing her like it had been years since they last saw each other as he walked them to the truck. When they reached her side of the truck, he put her down, smiling as he took her hand, and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. Tingles ran up her arm. “Hungry?” he asked as he helped her into the passenger seat.

“Famished.”

He chuckled. “Good.”

Before picking Grace up, Darius had stopped and picked up a large mushroom and sausage pizza. They talked about their week as he drove. She left out the parts about Amanda. Grace watched familiar houses zip by from the side window. When they turned down the road leading to the lake, she smiled. Darius did a quick three-point turn-around, and parked so the tailgate was facing the water.

“Stay here,” he said, grabbing the pizza and a blanket from the backseat. Staring out the windshield, she wondered what he was doing. The loud clanking and fall of the tailgate made the truck shake. Grace turned in her seat, looking out the back. He spread the blanket on the tailgate, put the pizza down, and came back around to her side of the truck. When he opened her door, Darius offered his hand and helped Grace down.

The warmth of his fingers seeped through the cloth of her shirt, searing her skin when he wrapped his hands around her waist. Grace grabbed his arms and felt the muscles of his biceps bulge as he lifted her onto the tailgate. Flustered, they both looked away. He jumped into the back of the truck and pulled out some paper plates.

Twilight deepened as they talked and ate. Darius slid open the back windows of the truck and turned the music up. “Need It” by Half Moon Run was playing, one of Grace’s recent favorites. Darius stood behind her, offering an outstretched hand. “What?” she asked.

“Dance with me.”

Taking his hand, she stood with him. She still couldn’t get over not being able to feel anything from his touch. It was a welcome respite from the overload she’d been feeling the last week. The breath she let out felt like one she’d been holding in for far too long. When she rested her head against his chest, Darius held her close as they swayed to the music. Too lost in the soft echo of his breathing and the rhythmic drumming of his heart, Grace didn’t hear the song end. Darius still moved with her, humming the song that came on next as he lightly played with the tips of her hair. She lifted her head from his chest, and glanced at him from under her lashes.

Darius stopped swaying and quit humming, gazing down at her. His stare alone caused a restless stirring within. Her breath hitched when he cupped her face in his hands. It was sweet torture waiting for his slowly lowering lips to reach hers. When his tongue slid along the edge of her lower lip, the quiver running through her body frightened her. She knew that she’d surrender anything to him tonight. As his kiss became more urgent, needing, her very being came alive in a way it never had before.

Breathless, he ran gentle kisses over her face, eyes, and the tip of her nose, then wrapped his arms more tightly around her, cradling her head against his chest. His breathing was labored. The sound of his beating heart was a song to her own, which fluttered inside her chest in response. Here with him, Grace felt shut off from the stress of her life. She wanted to stay. But eventually, life would find her there too.

They left a few short hours later.

Darius kissed her softly at the front door, and said he’d call her later. Inside, the house was lonely and quiet. Amanda was already in bed and Laney was too, if she was home. Quentin came in a couple of minutes after Grace. Without saying a word, they walked up the stairs, exchanging a simple good night before closing their doors.

Grace opened her eyes to the gaze of a bright full moon above, as she and Darius lay on a soft blanket while large blades of hip-high grass swayed around them, waving to their own songs of love and solace. The night sky above was a deep indigo, cloudless and star-filled. Grace snuggled into the crook of his arm and shoulder, sighing with contentment. It was like earlier, but better. She didn’t know where they were, but loved it more than the lake. It was perfect.

Cupping her jaw, Darius pressed his lips to Grace’s hair. Her tummy rolled as if on a roller coaster. “I love it when you find me.” She kissed the edge of his jaw and lay back down. “I feel like we’re in our own world here.”

Darius held her tighter. “We are.”

Darius had yet to give her a note reading, “Will you go out with me, check yes or no.” But when she wasn’t in school and Darius wasn’t working at The Board Shop, they were together. The rest of the time they were talking or texting.

Things felt like they were starting to settle. Other than the couple of times she’d gone to The Board Shop with Darius the last few weeks, she hadn’t sensed anything strange. The only out-of-the-ordinary thing she sensed each time was Mathias, who was also Nephilim, and seemed harmless enough. Other than him and Grace, there was no one else like them at his shop … ever.

Amanda cried less frequently while locked in the guest room they’d moved her in to, and at times Grace would see glimpses of her trying to smile here and there. However, a hollowness remained in Amanda’s eyes. She seemed to be getting something out of her therapy sessions, at least. She never offered what was said during the appointments, and Grace didn’t ask. Regardless, the scars on Amanda’s hips haunted Grace. So did her eyes. She hoped Amanda was talking to the therapist about everything. Worried, she often knocked on closed doors whenever Amanda was too quiet for too long. She probably would for a while.

Sadly, time did little for Grace and Quentin, who still remained in the shadows. When he did decide to come out, he offered a half grin, but not often. And those times were only during training. He still wasn’t talking. Grace was okay with that. To her, the slight smile was progress and she’d take it. The kiss they’d shared was almost a distant memory now. Almost.

Grace’s parents were seeing a lot more of each other. Laney stayed in the house with Grace at night, and Richard moved in to the other house. It was stupid really, him staying there and Laney here. She understood her parents had a lot of time to make up for, but Grace would never get used to him being around if they always stayed away.

Every morning was the same. Grace was up and ready to go, and waiting on Amanda. A couple of weeks into this routine and Grace was still surprised by the bomb that went off in Amanda’s bedroom and bathroom every single morning. Grace blinked in disbelief at the explosion of makeup and hair products in Amanda’s bathroom, not to mention the scattered clothes in the bedroom. “Ready to go?”

“Almost!” Amanda shrieked from behind her closet doors, balancing on one leg as she pulled the other leg of her pants on.

Graced shook her head, glancing again at her watch. “We have to be in first period in fifteen minutes.”

“I know, I know. I’m almost done!”

“I’ll be in the car.”

Amanda and Grace walked into class just as the bell rang. Last quarter they only had first period together. Ironically, fourth quarter they had four classes together, and lunch again. Grace was excited that Emily and Leah were in a couple more of her classes too.

“Finally,” Emily said from the desk next to Grace.

Grace’s gaze first went to Emily’s lips, but she couldn’t tell what flavor she was wearing. She couldn’t really tell a color either. Grace let out a breath. “I know, Amanda was getting ready.”

Emily’s head jerked in Grace’s direction. “Maybe Amanda should get her own car.” Emily’s voice cut sharp through Grace’s ears.

Grace stared at Emily for a second, surprised by Emily’s animosity. She then shot her a warning look, and urged, “Ease up,” in a low voice. Even though she’d always been best friends with Emily, she couldn’t help feeling rather protective of Amanda.

Mr. Daniel stood in front of the class and began speaking, forestalling the snappy reply Emily was about to throw back at Grace. She dared another sideways glance at Emily, who was fiddling rather roughly with the edge of her notebook, clearly lost in thought. As the teacher droned on, she tried paying attention. No matter how you sliced it, there was nothing exciting about History. The only history Grace found remotely interesting was the history you won’t find in the history books, the history of her kind. That fascinated her. When her purse buzzed, she reached for her cell, and tried to be inconspicuous.


Darius: Howz ur day?

Grace: History. Yuck! Cant stay awake :(

Darius: I can help w/that.

She didn’t doubt his ability.

Grace: Oh I know u can.

Darius: Not like that, perv. C U l8r.

Snickering under her breath, she put the phone back in her purse and tried to get into Utah state history.

Grace breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of the bell. Lately Grace and Amanda walked to second period together, but she needed to talk to Emily alone. Before Emily could escape, Grace focused on putting up a mental block and grabbed her elbow. “Uh, Amanda, I’ll see you in class. I need to talk to Em.”

One of Amanda’s eyebrows hitched up, regarding Grace questioningly. “Okay. See ya.”

Grace made sure Amanda was far enough away before hissing, “What’s going on?”

Emily leaned against the wall, cradling her books against her chest, her eyes narrowing as she watched students walk up and down the halls. “What do you mean, what’s going on?”

Grace let out a breath, not wanting to fight. “I’m talking about the welcome wagon this morning. What was that all about?”

Emily’s stare cut to Grace. “You mean like how welcoming you’ve been the last couple of weeks?” She squeezed her books tighter to her chest, taking in a large breath.

Grace took a step back, and felt her eyebrows raise toward her hairline. “What are you talking about?” In her mind, Grace went over the last few weeks, trying to recall anything that might have happened. She couldn’t remember anything.

A familiar glistening washed over Emily’s eyes, as Grace watched emotion move across her face. “If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then forget it.” At this, she pushed off the wall.

“Em, wait,” Grace said. “What did I do?”

Before Emily spoke, a few tears escaped her eyes. “Amanda? Really, Grace?” Angrily she swiped at them, her bangle bracelets rattling around her wrist.

Inside, Grace fought with her own emotion. Obviously, Emily was jealous about Amanda, but she didn’t know what she had been through. Or what Grace was going through while Emily only had time for Tommy. Her shoulders heaved upward with her intake of air and then said, “I can’t tell you about Amanda, and please don’t ask her anything. Trust me when I say she needs me.”

Emily’s dark eyes softened a little. “Is she alright?”

Her gaze moved from Emily to the floor. Grace’s chest felt tight at the thought of Amanda’s scars. “I hope so, Em.”

A light brush on her arm had her looking up again. Emily stood directly in front of her. “How can I help?”

A smile tugged on Grace’s mouth. “Just be her friend.”

Emily’s shining lips curved up in response. “Okay, I can do that. She gave Grace a hug, promising to talk more later, and hurried off to class.

Grace kept her gaze on the floor as she walked through the hall, too lost in thoughts of her conversation with Emily to look up. She rounded the corner to her next class, glancing up only slightly to make sure no one was around the bend, and was surprised to find Darius leaning against the wall, Latté Da’s coffee in hand. “I thought this would help you wake up.”

She was so happy to see him, she almost cried. Grace took it from his hand, leaned against him, and kissed his lips softly. “I’m awake now,” she said against his mouth.

Darius chuckled quietly. “Good, get to class.” She never wanted to skip class more in her life. He must have sensed it because he grabbed her hand and put it on the door handle of the classroom. “I’ll call you later, angel.” He kissed her on the corner of her mouth and disappeared around the corner.

The rest of Grace’s day went by at a snail’s pace, mirroring History. Thankful she didn’t have any homework for the night, she hung her backpack inside her locker and waited for Amanda.

When she showed up a few minutes later, Amanda dug through her locker for books she needed overnight and tossed them into her backpack. As she slammed her locker, she said, “I forgot I have a biology test I have to make up. Leah has a lab she’s making up, and said she’d give me a ride.”

Grace frowned and tilted her head, eyeing her suspiciously. Usually Amanda couldn’t stand Leah. “Oh… okay. Good luck. See you at home,” Grace said. They quickly hugged. “Be nice,” Grace whispered in her ear.

“Always.” Amanda winked at her and hurried to the biology room. Grace watched her leave.

While pulling her phone from her pocket, she shouldered the school door open. An odd, almost ethereal wind blew over her as soon as she stepped outside, and time itself seemed to lag. Every fine hair on her body stood on end, and adrenaline kicked in her veins. Panicking, she swiveled her head around, trying to find the source of what she was feeling. Everything and everyone seemed to suddenly click into slow motion. Sticky black shadows crawled out from a jagged crevice in the ground several feet away, moaning and growling as they coiled toward her. At first, she thought each was one large shadow, but she was wrong. Inside each inky void, thousands of tiny claw-like hands reached for her, while their heads jerked and teeth gnashed. Paralyzed with fear, she couldn’t tear her eyes from the wraiths. Her breath was coming in and out so fast, small white spots shot like stars all throughout her peripheral vision.

In the distance, she heard the familiar throttle of a motorcycle. Darius’ motorcycle. He was parked at the curb, shouting at her and waving his arms to get her attention. She thought he’d left a couple of hours ago. She couldn’t hear over the swooshing in her ears, or the growling and snapping of the Shadow Hounds slowly moving close—hunting her.

Suddenly, the squeal of tires brought her attention to the other side of the parking lot. Smoke billowed and the smell of burning rubber stung her nose as Quentin skidded the Jag to a stop, separating Grace from five guys dressed in black she hadn’t noticed who had appeared out of nowhere. They moved purposefully together in a V formation, its apex directed straight at her. All their attention zeroed in on Grace, as if Quentin wasn’t even there. The eyes they fixed on her burned red—reflecting pure evil. She shuddered, horrified that she could actually feel the tendrils of their hatred that licked at her skin from clear across the parking lot.

Without warning, everything around her slammed back into normal time, and Grace lurched into action. The close gnashing of teeth had her moving in Chosen speed to Darius’ bike. She didn’t think about who might see her. Nor did she care. She threw her arms around Darius, clinging to him for dear life as soon as she jumped on the back of his bike, hoping and praying he would just get them out of there. As the bike rocketed out of the parking lot, Grace’s hair whipped painfully at her face, almost cutting her skin, as she desperately looked around for Quentin. She was relieved to see him following not too far behind, and eased into Darius’ back.

Moments later, they came to an abrupt halt in front of her old house. Grace stared at the house, but Darius was quiet and didn’t move, so she jumped off. She searched his face, but it offered her no answers. “Why are we here?” she asked, pointing to the house.

Darius’ expression turned rueful, but he remained quiet. “Darius?” She pleaded for answers with her eyes, and instinctively reached for his arm. As soon as her fingers touched him, she remembered she wouldn’t be able to know what was going on by touching him, and let her hand fall to her side. Maybe he saw the Shadow Hounds and he’s just in shock, she reasoned, and reached for his arm again, hoping to calm his fears. “It’s going to be okay, Darius.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he leaned a little toward her, still on the bike. “I—”

“What’s going on?” Richard bellowed from the porch. Grace whipped her head and body in his direction just as his eyes fell on Darius. Fear filled Richard’s eyes, and a second later he was at her side, pulling her toward the house by her arm. Confusion kept her from responding to Darius’ disquiet, and to her father’s angry reaction. Her feet stumbled in the grass as she tried to peer over her shoulder for Darius. Although he held her gaze, he didn’t offer any explanation, and let her be pulled away without protest.

Tearing her eyes away, she watched Quentin rounding the corner lightning fast and screeching to a stop. “Get out of here!” he screamed at Darius as he ran past him. With Richard on one side and Quentin on the other, they rapidly muscled her through the front door. Grace still couldn’t take her eyes away from Darius and watched him drive away from over her shoulder. What just happened? her mind screamed.

“How strong are the wards here?” Quentin asked, his eyes wide as his grip tightened around Grace’s arm.

Richard continued pulling Grace along. “I just had them reinforced, but they sure as hell are nothing like the wards over at the other house,” Richard replied.

Rushing through the bathroom doors, Grace watched Richard open the linen closet and carefully slide the towels over. With a click, the secret door slid open, the cool air wrapping around Grace’s ankles. The angel torch sconces lit up in welcome, or in urgency, Grace didn’t know which. Quentin rushed in first, pulling her by the hand to ensure she was close behind.

As the door hissed and slid shut, Grace peered over her shoulder for Richard. His stare was intense and the slight smile he offered was trying. The relief that washed over her from seeing him still with them shocked her.

So much whirled around inside Grace’s head—Darius waiting for her at the school, his knowing where she used to live, his unusual silence, the Shadow Hounds, the Fallen—all of it was running circles in her mind as she dashed through the underground. A sudden realization halted her in her tracks. “What about Amanda?” Her question bounced back and forth against the walls.

Quentin stopped and came back to her. Holding her face in his hands, he held her gaze. “She’ll be fine, I promise. The Fallen are no longer at the school, they’re searching for us. And I lost them on the way here. It’s going to be okay.” The only thing she could do was nod an okay, and continue to follow Quentin through the passageways to the manor. She couldn’t respond in any other way, because she was still trying to process what had just happened. Her mouth and body were numb, but the trust she had in Quentin kept her feet moving forward.

Outside the linen closet of her grandfather’s house stood Laney and Limye. “Oh, thank God you’re okay,” Laney cried, scooping Grace up into a hug.

“Mom, I’m fine, let go.” Grace felt the reluctance in her mother’s arms as Laney released her. Laney wiped a few tears from her eyes and stepped back.

While the others interacted, mobilizing against the threat, Grace stood in the center of the chaos, watching, and trying to breathe. From the corner of her eye she saw Limye and Quentin whispering. To the side, her parents embracing. And she still stood in the center of it, almost passing out from the lack of oxygen not making it to her brain, because she still hadn’t taken a breath since she walked out of the closet.

The walls of the larger than average bathroom felt like they were closing in on her and she had to get out. With her arm stretched in front of her, she felt her way out into the office.

Quentin and Limye were there still whispering. Tired of being in the dark, her panic raked irritatingly on her nerves. “Why was Darius still at my school?”

Quentin’s gaze met Limye’s before returning to Grace. He shrugged. “Dumb luck.”

Grace stared at him in disbelief. Is he serious, she mentally shouted. She threw a clenched hand on her hip. “Okay, what about my house? How’d he know about that?” Her toe tapped in rhythm to her fastpaced heart.

Again, Quentin didn’t immediately give her his attention. Instead, he seemed put out and somewhat irritated. “I don’t know, Grace, maybe you told him and forgot, or maybe he has a friend that lives in the neighborhood that said something to him.”

She was so done with this cryptic bullshit. Briskly, she walked past them, and reached for the office door handle. With a slight turn, she faced Limye. “Why the hell are you here? Did you get a call?”

Limye held up her hands, and backed away from Grace. “Not from you, I didn’t. He called me.” Limye pointed a finger at Quentin.

Grace let go of the handle, and turned completely around. She took in a large breath, breathing in through her nose and out her mouth before speaking. “I’m sorry. Um… hi, then.” Grace waved apprehensive fingers.

The corners of Limye’s lips turned up. “Hi, Grace.” Still irritated, Grace managed to give her a sheepish smile back. Her smile broadened as she realized that Limye didn’t call her “child” this time.

“One more thing,” Grace said, looking pointedly at Quentin. “What are ‘wards’?”

The obvious tension Quentin felt held his shoulders high as he stood with his hands on his hips. He forced a breath through his nose. “It’s like an invisible cloak over an area, placed there for the protection of the people under it. Anyone with bad intentions can’t find the people the ward is protecting, so long as they stay where the wards are placed. Understand?”

“Yeah.” Grace understood and thought it was pretty cool, actually. “Like a protective bubble. Who places the wards? You?” she asked Limye.

The ropes of Limye’s hair ticktocked back and forth as she shook her head. “No.”

Grace turned her attention back to Quentin. “You?”

Quentin shook his head. “No, an Archangel.”

Surprised by his answer, Grace’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? Who?”

Quentin’s arms fell to his sides. “Gabriel.” Clearly, he didn’t want to talk specifics with her anymore. He and Limye went back to their private conversation. Gabriel, she thought with amazement, leaving the office. How freaking cool is that?

When her fingers brushed over her pocket, Grace was glad through all the chaos she’d managed to get her phone back in there before climbing on the back of Darius’ bike. Swiping her thumb across the screen, she went to the text app.

Grace: What was that?

Confusion still warred in her head, but the fact an Archangel had set a ward over her house managed to calm her nerves somewhat. She just hoped Darius would be willing to answer her questions from the safety of his smart phone screen. She didn’t expect him to reply very fast, but a second later her phone buzzed.

Darius: U okay?

Grace: Yeah. Howd u know where my dad lives?

Darius: I didn’t. Tommy said u used to live there. I took a chance since it was closer.

Plausible, she guessed.

Grace: Why’d u seem so panicked to get me out of there?

Darius: Idk. A feeling I needed 2. N the look on ur face I guess.

Grace: K

Darius: Im @ wrk now. I’ll call l8r.

Grace: K

Darius: Im glad ur okay.


Grace didn’t know what to think about his perceptiveness. The whole thing, from the second she walked outside to when she got off his bike, didn’t add up. Turning her phone off, she didn’t reply to his text. She didn’t have a reason to not believe him. He’d never lied to her before. Sighing, Grace hoped this wasn’t a first.

Grace tried to stay busy until Amanda walked through the door, and worked even harder to hide her worry when she finally did. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Grace said back. “That was a long test.”

“Oh, sorry. Leah and I went to grab a quick bite.”

“Cool. How do you think you did?”

Amanda sighed and put her bag on the table in the foyer. “I think I did okay. We’ll see.”

Amanda took a few steps toward Grace, her brows drawn together in concern. “Are you okay?”

She wasn’t and she doubted she ever would be. Today was straight out of a Grimm fairy tale, and probably the first of many more like it. “I’m fine.” Inwardly, she kicked herself for telling another lie.

“Um, okay. If you need to talk, I’ll be in my room.” Amanda waited for a second, quietly watching her as if she had something to say, but seemed to think better of it before turning and going to her room.

Grace went to find some dinner, even though she didn’t feel like eating. She grabbed her cell off the counter, and wasn’t surprised to see Darius hadn’t texted her yet. Pulling leftovers from the fridge, she put some on a plate and tossed it in the microwave. A few minutes later, she sat at the island with her warmed-up food and a can of soda. Unconsciously, she ran a fork through her food, and went back to what happened earlier, imagining all of the things that could have happened. Suddenly she understood why Quentin didn’t want her going to school anymore. It wasn’t about trying to control her. It was more about protecting innocent bystanders.


Her cell didn’t buzz until hours later, when she felt settled enough to sleep. Figured.

Darius: Nite, angel face.

She stared at the innocent enough text, wondering if his rescue today was coincidental or something else? Other than the stay-away-from-this-kind-of-guy vibe she’d felt in the beginning, she’d never sensed anything from him. Ever. Her fingers tapped across the screen of her lit-up phone.

Grace: G’nite.

Darius: U want to do sumthin 2moro?

Should she even bother trying to date him, or anyone else for that matter? The Fallen would keep finding her, putting all of her friends and everyone she cared about in danger. The possibility of a lonely life, accompanied only by a sullen and uncommunicative Quentin, flashed before her eyes. If it were just the two of them, she wouldn’t last. Not when he wouldn’t talk to her.

Grace: Idk if that’s a good idea.

Darius: Y? 2day? I wont let any thing happen 2 u. Ur safe w/me. Promise.

That might be true, but he wasn’t so safe with her.

Grace: Idk.

Darius: Trust me ; )

Everything in her gut was telling her to say no, keep her distance, to keep him safe. But then in her memory she saw his eyes, and felt his kiss and his touch as he ran a thumb tenderly down her face. Painful tears pricked at her eyes. Once again acting against her better judgment, she agreed and prayed it was the right decision.

Grace: What r we doing?

Darius: Surprise. I’ll pick u up @ 6.

Even though she was apprehensive, it wasn’t enough to change her mind.

Grace: K.

Darius: Nite.

The knots in her stomach wouldn’t let up. She tossed and turned the better part of two hours. Finally, she kicked off her blankets, flung her legs over the side, and paced beside her bed, which did nothing for the ball lodged in her stomach. Everything about this afternoon was wrong. Felt wrong. So many things could have happened, but thankfully didn’t.

Her brain wouldn’t shut off. The woulda-coulda’s were going to keep her up all night. Ideas for getting to sleep were lost to her, so she tiptoed down the stairs, hoping warm milk might do the trick.

The digital clock on the microwave told her it was after midnight. Great, she was going to be out of it at school tomorrow. Coffee probably wouldn’t even help. Grace gripped the milk by the handle, and closed the refrigerator door. Her heart jumped into her throat and she nearly dropped the jug as she realized that someone had snuck in and was leaning against the counter. Quentin scared the crap out of her. “Oh my gosh, you scared me. What are you doing?”

He twisted around, took a glass from the cupboard, and handed it to her. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Really, why?” she asked, taking the glass from his outstretched hand.

Quentin raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. Oh, duh. She hurried and poured her milk. “Right, sorry.” Grace would never get used to someone else being able to feel what she was feeling…always.

The lights weren’t on, but the heat from Quentin’s stare tingled along the back of her neck. Since he still wasn’t really talking to her, she was too chicken to turn around. Instead, she continued leaning against the counter and focused on finishing her milk.

“Do you have plans after school tomorrow?”

Choking on the sip she just took, she coughed and turned to him. “What?”

“Do you have plans—”

“Yeah, I heard that, but why?” Grace asked, leaning her hip against the cupboards and setting the glass on the counter.

The light from the foyer cast enough illumination for her to see he was nervous. He held on to his hips and gazed down at his feet. “I thought maybe we could catch a movie or something. You know, go have some fun.”

Grace’s mouth fell open. Huh? “Well, actually, I already have plans tomorrow.”

Quentin’s shoulders visibly fell before he straightened back up. “What are you doing?”

“Not sure.” She shrugged. “Darius said it was a surprise.”

One minute Quentin was across the kitchen, the next he was standing in front of Grace. She didn’t need any ambient light to see he was pissed. Anger rolled off him in one giant wave, slamming into the barrier of her skin. “You can’t be serious. Even after today?”

Not liking his tone, or his timing in deciding to start speaking to her again, she bristled at his accusation. Her fists clenched at her side as she got back in his face. “See, that’s just it, Quentin. I don’t know what in the hell happened today. All I do know is I asked you what happened and you didn’t know either. So, what is your problem?”

“I don’t like him.”

Doing an about-face, she grabbed for her milk. “Clearly.”

His voice softened. “You need to stay away from him.”

Grace placed her glass in the sink, and turned back to him. “Why do I need to stay away from him?”

There was an edge to his voice again. “Because, just trust me.”

“Because isn’t good enough. I like him, a lot, and I’m pretty sure he likes me too.” With an exaggerated sigh, she folded her arms across her chest.

“No, he doesn’t, Grace. He’s using you.”

It took every ounce of self-control she had to not throw something at his head. Because even though she’d used those same words to try to convince Amanda to use her head, this situation was nothing like that one. It wasn’t an affair, and Darius certainly wasn’t the jackass here. “Thanks for that, but you’re wrong.” She moved to leave the kitchen, but he stepped in her way.

The light from the foyer transformed Quentin’s body into a dark-shadowed silhouette, making his anger seem more menacing. She took a step back. All she could see clearly was the fury reflecting in the whites of his eyes. It made her want to hide. “I can feel how he makes you feel. What he makes you want. I didn’t think you were like that, Grace. At least, that’s what you claimed at the party, anyway.”

There was little else he could have said that would have stung more. Something menacing and hateful roiled inside, threatening to claw its way out of her throat. Her body shivered as her feelings stormed inside. She took a purposeful step closer and pulled back her hand, prepared to slap him. Grace stood there, hand cocked, trembling with anger, but she couldn’t release her hand. She knew hitting him would only make her feel better for a second, and then she’d feel terrible. “Why is it so hard for you to believe someone would be interested in me, and care for me?” Her bottom lip began to quiver as she spoke. “Just because you don’t want anything to do with me doesn’t mean someone else won’t. And I didn’t lie, I’m not like that. But thanks for that too.”

Quentin didn’t hesitate, he took a step closer to Grace. “Is that what you think, Grace, or are you trying to rely on your special touch to tell you how I feel without asking me yourself?”

For a split second, she was caught off guard. She didn’t know he knew what she could do. Regardless, she shook it off as anger spiked inside her, pushing her up on the balls of her feet. “As a matter of fact, I do know how you feel with my special touch, by the way, that tells me enough.”

“You don’t know anything.” He grabbed her by the arms, and she made the mistake of wrapping her fingers around his forearms to steady herself. Sucking in her breath, Grace was bombarded by his feelings. Despite how long he’d been on this Earth, she was his beginning, she sensed. And like all beginnings, nothing else for him would begin or end if she wasn’t a part of it. He wanted her every beginning, and her every ending. She could see this as clear as day with her hands. Every emotion held in his heart was only for Grace.

Grace dropped her hands. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “Quentin,” she whispered.

“Damn it, Grace. This is me. These are my emotions, not yours.”

Why hadn’t she felt any of this before? How did he hide it from her? And how in the heck did he know she feared feeling her own emotions reflected in him? This can’t be happening, she thought, shaking her head. Confused, she gazed down at her open, helpless hands. “How’d you know about my hands?”

“Because I know you…all of you. I’m sorry, Grace. I thought it would be best if I hid how I felt from you. I figured if we kept things between us strictly Chosen and Guardian that it would be easier, but I was wrong.” His hands squeezed her arms a little tighter. “God, I was so wrong. Every time you kiss him I feel it, and it’s gut-wrenching. A piece of my heart breaks with every piece of yours you give away. Every day you’re with him is like a dagger to my soul.” Quentin swallowed and stared down at her with glistening eyes. “I kept my feelings from you, I know that, but please give me a chance to make it right.” She was speechless, and a few more tears left warm trails down her face. “Let me be the one to fall for you. You are worth falling for.”

Grace’s head spun. I’m worth falling for? What does that mean? She couldn’t handle any more. Too much stuff was thrown at her today, she couldn’t process any of it, and now he was making it harder. Pushing away from him, she shook her head. “I can’t do this right now, Quentin. I need to think and I can’t do that with you touching me.”

Quentin took a step back, quickly pushing his hands in his pockets. “I understand you need time.”

Shaking her head again, sadness constricted her chest. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t trust you. Every time I turn around, I find out you’ve lied to me, and the reason for it is justified in your mind. Not to mention the last couple of months…” Unable to finish her sentence without full-on sobbing, she blinked back more tears.

“I know, and I’m sorry, Grace. Please.” He took a step toward her, reaching with a hand.

Grace threw her palm up. “Stop, Quentin. Just leave me alone for a while.” Without another word, she hurried out of the kitchen, and bounded up the stairs.

“He’s Fallen, Grace.”

She froze on the staircase as the dreaded word not only echoed through the foyer, it ricocheted painfully against the confines of her heart and mind. Her throat went dry, desiccating the words she wanted to yell back at him. She turned and searched his face, looking for some glimmer of hope that when he had said “Fallen” he meant fallen in love. But from the warning in the eyes that stared back at her, she knew he meant literally. He meant Fallen as in…her enemy. She was wrong. He managed to say something that hurt worse than basically calling her a slut.

Shaking her head, it didn’t make sense. “Why would he help protect me then? Why didn’t he just ki—h-hurt me?”

“Because he’s a liar. That’s what he does, he deceives.”

The pain of what he said made it hard to breathe. Every breath she took in felt like knives going down, slicing away pieces of her on the way back up. She couldn’t move. With one hand, she grabbed the railing for support, and held on to her chest with the other. The drumming from her painfully contracting heart thumped against her palm. Small flashes of light bounced around the edges of her sight. Her mouth fell open as she tried sucking in large gulps of air, and concentrated on not passing out. Not to mention trying to come to grips with what Quentin just dumped on her. She bit back the tears threatening to fall again. She wouldn’t give Quentin the satisfaction.

The sound of soft footsteps coming up the steps had her jerking her head to peer over her shoulder. Quentin didn’t come up any further. Quickly, she whirled all the way around. “See, Quentin, more lies. You’re a liar too.”

“But I couldn’t tell you.” He brought both hands up in the air, his eyes were full of grief.

Dropping her arm to her side, she felt defeated. He didn’t get it. “And there’s the justification.”

Grace’s phone taunted her from the nightstand, almost daring her to text him. How could it be true? She didn’t—no, she couldn’t believe it. Why would Darius lie, pretend—toy with her heart?

“Because, he’s a liar. That’s what he does, he deceives.” Quentin’s earlier words kept rattling around in her head. The warm milk would be no help; she wouldn’t get any sleep tonight—possibly not for a while.

As Grace lay there, trying to will her mind to numb, she felt the fractures of her heart splintering. Grace liked Darius, quite a lot, actually. She was dumb enough to think she might actually be able to have something normal with him, no matter how brief. Right, the joke was on her. He was anything but normal. How could she be so stupid?

It felt like everyone around her did nothing but lie to her … Quentin more than any of them. He and Darius were cut from the same cloth. It made her sick. The sob Grace held deep down bubbled to the surface. She couldn’t hold on to it any longer. It hurt way too much. She rolled to her side, pushed her face hard into the pillow to muffle any sounds, and screamed her pain and frustration. She screamed until her throat was scratchy and raw. By the time she stopped, her pillow was sopping wet from her tears.

Grace no longer trusted anyone. She was completely and utterly alone—again. The last time she had looked at the clock, it was 3:05 a.m. School was going to be beyond rough. Right now would probably be a good time to rethink going back to school at all. That too was something that hurt too much to do.

The buzzing of her alarm clock didn’t serve as a wakeup call that day. It was a reminder of how many hours she’d lain sleepless under the covers. Brutally, she slammed her hand against the top of the clock to make it stop screaming at her, but then reached for the button and simply turned it off. She wouldn’t be going to school today.

All through the night, every single moment from the time her grandfather had died until now replayed over and over in her mind. It was one huge puzzle she kept trying to piece together. But no matter how she might fit the pieces or force them together, it always came back to the same thing.

She was a fool.

People say time heals all wounds. She highly doubted the saying could apply to her this time. How does anyone ever get past being lied to over and over again? Especially by the ones who are supposed to protect you.

The good news, if she could even call it that, was that she was all cried out. Yay. She’d cried so long and so hard, her eyes were almost swollen shut. Licking her dry, chapped lips, she tasted salt from her tears.

Gritty sand scratched against her eyes as she opened them to slits to judge the distance from her bed to the bathroom. It was just as far away as the last time she looked. Right now, she wouldn’t be opposed to a bed pan. But since she didn’t have one, the only thing getting her out of bed was the promise of water for her throat and eyes.

In front of the bathroom mirror, Grace rested her palms against the countertop. The person staring back at her was unrecognizable, which only made her want to cry more. She was thankful she didn’t have it in her to do it. Grace hoped that by the time she could cry again, she wouldn’t feel the need anymore.

Every muscle in her body hurt. Her feet dragged heavily along the floor, her body barely strong enough to carry her back to bed. Curling in on herself, Grace covered her head with the blanket.

There was a first time for everything. Grace had always been so protective of the Shelby, and of course Amanda had asked nonstop to drive it. But when Grace told her through her locked bedroom door that morning to take it, she no longer sounded so excited. When Amanda got past her shock and finally relented, Grace breathed a sigh of relief. It took too much energy to convince Amanda to take it. If Amanda hadn’t taken the keys when she had, Grace probably would have ripped her bedroom door open and pushed her down the stairs.

Grace shut her bedroom door and fumbled back to bed. Swimming in and out of consciousness, she let sleep take her. She barely came to when her mom lightly tapped on her door. It was a little harder convincing Laney to let her sleep, but she too left Grace alone, believing she was sick. And she was out like a light again.

When she finally came to again, opening her eyes didn’t hurt as bad as earlier. The painful grittiness was gone. Reaching for her phone, she pulled it close to her face. Her eyes might not have hurt as bad, but her sight was blurry. It was a little after three and she had several texts, all from Darius.

Darius: Can’t w8 2 c u.

Darius: Can’t stop thinking of u.

A cry hitched in her throat, and tears pricked like sharp needles at her eyes. It was a sick game to him. To Grace, it had never felt like one. She didn’t know how she did it, but she forced both back down. Apparently, she could cry again.

Darius: How was school?

Darius: C u in a couple of hrs.

There were so many things she wanted to text back, but knew there was no use. He was what he was, and she was what she was. There was no changing that. Some things couldn’t be helped.

Grace: Sorry I didn’t text bak earlier. Im home sick. Can’t c u l8r.

As she expected, he responded right back.

Darius: O im sorry. I can bring u sum soup or sumthing.

The gesture pulled at her insides, a painful ache from wanting him to rush on over. She hated herself for letting him get to her—both before and now.

Grace: Mom took care of all that. U don’t want this. Ill call u when im better.

Darius: K. Hope ur better soon. Let me kno if u need anything.

Grace: K.

Reflexively, she squeezed the phone in the palm of her hand, and held it over her head. She nearly threw it. Darius wasn’t worth her tears and anger, and neither was Quentin. Determined to get some answers, Grace threw her legs over the side of the bed and stormed out of her room.

Not caring about still being in her nightgown or not having brushed her teeth yet, she stormed through the house in search of Quentin. She didn’t care what he couldn’t tell her. He would tell her everything she wanted to know, or she was never going to talk to him again—ever.

“Quentin!” Grace shouted through his closed bedroom door. Her knuckles were red and sore from banging so hard. “Open up!” Either he’s chicken, she thought, or he isn’t in there. Grace went with the latter assumption and took off down the stairs. Running from room to room, her feet slapped loudly against the wood floor. “Quentin!”

A warm breeze lifted the edges of her nightgown when the front door swung open. Instantly, Grace bristled and twirled to the door. A wide-eyed Amanda stood in the foyer, gawking at her. “What’s going on?”

“I’m trying to find Quentin,” she said, walking past Amanda.

“Okaaay, um … I’ll just be in my room.”

The loud thumping of Amanda’s shoes against the wood steps followed Grace as she speed-walked down the hall to the office. Grace took in a steady breath, and pushed through the unlocked door. The linen closet door was ajar. She knew where he was. Pressing the door release, she pushed through the entry as soon as there was enough room for her to fit. She ran so fast down the passageway, the angel torches couldn’t keep up with her. Each one lit after she ran by. It didn’t matter. She knew her way by heart now.

When she reached the gym door, she body-slammed into it. The door wildly swung open, hitting the wall behind it with a piercing smack. Grace’s ears rang as she stepped through the doorway. Quentin stood in the middle of the gym floor, unfazed. He obviously was expecting her.

“We need to talk,” she said through pursed lips.

The fight left Quentin. His shoulders were relaxed, and his eyes gentle. He regarded her for a minute, and Grace wondered what he was waiting for. “I know,” he replied softly.

Grace took a couple of steps forward, making sure there was enough distance to keep him from touching her. She needed to get it all off her chest without the confusion. “I want answers, and I’m not leaving until I get them,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Quentin’s shoulders sagged as he sighed, then twisted at the waist and tossed his towel over the top rope of the ring. “Okay.” What? His willingness had her stumbling over the questions she had originally formed in her head. Her arms unfolded and hung loosely at her sides.

Quentin grabbed a mat and pitched it on the floor. He pointed to it. “Sit. I won’t touch you. I promise.” Grace observed him for a few breaths, then padded softly to the mat and sat. Quentin sat on the concrete facing her. “What do you want to know?”

All the questions she came prepared to ask ran wildly through her mind. She picked the first one that stilled long enough for her to grab it. “Well, for starters, why are there so many things you say you can’t tell me?”

A long few minutes ticked by as he remained silent. She doubted he was going to answer anything. Grace gave up, the fight left her too. She slapped her hands on the map, pulling herself on her knees, and started to get up. “Forget it.”

In a flash, he was before her on his knees as well. “No, wait!” Grace jerked away from him, thinking he was going to touch her. His palms went up between them. “I’ll tell you, it’s just difficult.”

“Why?” she snapped at him.

He nodded to the mat. She put her hands on her hips and eyed him suspiciously. Slowly she sat back down, not taking her eyes from his hands. Quentin moved back to his spot, resting his forearm on his raised knee, and she sat back a little easier. “Do you remember when I told you about the closed-door meeting the Watchers had?” Grace nodded. “One of the rules set in place was that the Guardians couldn’t tell the Nephilim who the Fallen were, and the Nephilim wouldn’t be able to sense them. The only way a Guardian can intervene is if a Fallen is trying to physically hurt the Nephilim they’re protecting.”

“Broken hearts don’t count as a physical hurt?” Grace asked tersely. She watched Quentin wince. “Didn’t think so.” She looked away.

“Grace,” Quentin said softly.

“What? You’re a guy, you just don’t get it.”

Quentin cocked an eyebrow, and bent his head slightly. “Do you want me to explain how I do get it, or do you want to talk about your questions?”

Resisting the other sharp retorts fighting to come out, she shook her head. “I have other things I want to talk about.” A sudden thought sent an uneasy tingle running through her. “Is Darius going to hurt me, is that why you told me?”

He focused on a spot on the ground. “No.”

“No, he’s not going to hurt me, or no, that’s not why you told me?”

The sound of his slight chuckle was absent of humor. It chilled Grace to the bone. “That’s not why I told you.” His eyes found hers and held them. “But he’s not here to physically hurt you either.”

Chilled even more, she wrapped her arms around her middle. Partly to hold the remaining warmth in, and partly to hold herself together. She could feel herself unraveling. “Then why?” The irony of her question wasn’t lost on her, since all that ran through her mind lately was why. So many why’s, she was getting dizzy.

Quentin’s arm dropped from his knee and he tore his gaze away from hers. “You were right. I should have told you. I do have a choice, and I’ve made it now.”

“You told me he was Fallen and you weren’t supposed to?” she asked softly. Still not looking at her, he nodded. “What does that mean?”

Quentin clenched his jaw, his hands at his sides squeezed into tight fists, whitening his knuckles. “What it means is the council can strip me of my guardianship and cast me out.” Cast him out? Of what? Suddenly, she understood the gravity of what he’d just done. He cracked open a secret’s door, and it was too late to close it back up.

“You only told me Darius was Fallen. Isn’t that protecting me?” Quentin cared for her, deeply, and she’d forced him to answer a question he tried to tell her he couldn’t. Ashamed, she turned her face away and wiped the tears she was unaware had fallen. “You hardly said anything. I don’t get it.”

His voice gentled. “Rules are rules, Grace. Breaking one is just as bad as breaking them all.”

She turned her eyes back to his, and tried to stop the tears. Her lip quivered as she pushed words out of her mouth. “What’s going to happen now?” Grace was afraid of the answer, but she had to know.

His stare pierced her with resolve. “Now I wait.”

Frantic, her nerves sparked. Her crossed legs bounced against the ground, and her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. If the council decided to cast him out, it would be because of her. Desperate, she blurted the first thing that came to her. “Let me talk to them!”

Quentin’s eyebrows pulled up and quickly settled into a scowl. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you, Grace.”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” she spat angrily. “This is all my fault.”

A tenderness washed over his features and a smile lifted one side of his mouth. “If I didn’t want to tell you anything, I wouldn’t have. Like I said, you’re worth it.”

Pools of tears collected in her eyes again. Before Darius, she had wanted him to fall for her, but not like this. “You’ll fall.” It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. Understanding of his earlier statement settled painfully on her consciousness.

His smile widened. “For you.”

Her eyes could no longer hold the collection of tears and they streamed down her face. “I don’t want you to fall.”

“It’s my choice,” he said softly.

Angry, she wanted to slap him upside the head for making such an irreversible choice when she couldn’t return his feelings. Take all of her krav maga training and knock some sense into him. “It’s a stupid choice,” she cried out.

His smile turned smug, and he chuckled. “Not to me, it’s not.”

Despite her tears, Grace chuckled back.

They sat quietly until Grace’s tears dried. “I’m not worth falling for,” she whispered.

Quentin’s shorts rustled as he moved across the floor closer to Grace. He kept his hands in view and kept them to himself. “To me you are,” he whispered back.

Staring back at him, she moved her head back and forth slightly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

He inched closer. The skin around his hands was pulled tight as he struggled to keep them to himself. Her hands twitched for the same reason. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. You’re so beautiful and amazing.”

Grace let out a shaky laugh. “Whatever.”

“Pfft,” Quentin scoffed. “Do you want a list, because I can give you one.”

Out of habit, she shrugged a shoulder.

Quentin held his hand up, bending each finger down as he spoke. “When you knew how your family felt about your grandfather, you kept it to yourself, because you didn’t want him to hurt. You held on to that your entire life. You took care of your mother growing up, knowing how sad and lonely she was, not caring about what you needed from her. The night of the accident, all I could think about was getting you out of there. All you thought of was going back despite the danger to help your friends. Look at how you’ve accepted your dad back into the picture, or how you’ve taken care of Amanda. I can go on, the list is endless.”

Grace managed to smile through the tears that snuck up on her for the umpteenth time that night, and her cheeks warmed from embarrassment. “Okay, I am pretty amazing.” She didn’t believe it, but it was still funny to say. They both laughed, but then another thought struck her. “If you become Fallen, does that mean you have to hunt me?” Actually, the thought caused bile to rise in the back of her throat. She even gagged a little.

Quentin cocked his head sideways. “Why would you even think to ask me that?”

“The rest of the Fallen do.”

The intensity of his gaze heated Grace from the inside. “I would still protect you.”

His answer turned the outer edges of her frown up as she let her gaze fall to the floor. A rush of heat coursed through her body, warming her from head to toe. No doubt her face was burning red. It would be tricky getting through her questions if he continued to talk like that. “If the Fallen are sent to hurt me to get Pandora, then why is Darius here?”

Grace knew the instant his anger spiked, the force of which pushed against her. His anger didn’t frighten her. She knew it wasn’t toward her. “He’s not a hunter. He’s not here for Pandora.”

Grace did not like the sound of that. “Then what’s he here for?”

Quentin answered her matter-of-factly. “He’s a Soul Keeper. He’s here for your soul.”

Oh, is that all? whipped through her mind.

A violent shudder wracked Grace’s body as she sat a while later with Quentin in the family room. She shivered uncontrollably, and sitting by the fire wrapped in a blanket did little, if anything, to help. She was never going to get used to any of this. The childhood prayer danced teasingly across her mind: “If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” It wouldn’t stop.

The prayer made sense, considering.

Neurotically, Grace chewed on her thumbnail, and talked around the sore nub. “He literally wants my soul?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him have it.”

Grace chortled. “Like I was going to just hand it over.” Quentin said something, but she couldn’t hear it through her head noise.

Her mind kept flashing back to how sweet and thoughtful Darius had been, which had her feeling more stupid than before. And to think, at first she worried he might want only one thing. Oh, he wanted something alright, just not that. The memories fueled the embers from her earlier anger.

She continued rocking back and forth, eying the empty cans of Red Bull lined up like energizing soldiers on the coffee table. Her gaze moved to each one, counting them off; one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four. After Quentin explained how Darius could get to her through her dreams, she started pounding them down, remembering the surreal quality of the dream-time she’d spent with Darius. They made her more nervous, but she refused to let herself get tired. She tossed back the last swallow of another can, and added it to the line of its brothers.

“I wish you’d stop. I can feel if anything happens, and I’ll wake you up,” Quentin said from the seat next to her.

“No.” Her head bobbed from side to side like a bobblehead. “I’m not ready to face him, and I don’t know what I might say in my dream.”

The music from her cell made her jump, then freeze as still as a corpse. It was him. A picture of Darius holding blue wildflowers smiled up at her. She wanted to smash his face in. Quentin rescued the iPhone and pressed the Ignore button, placing it on its face when he put it back on the table. When it buzzed minutes later, she grabbed it before he could, and held both of her hands in the air. “It’s okay. The phone is safe.”

Quentin didn’t seem to believe her. He hovered over her, just in case.

Darius: How r u feeling? I wish I was there w/u.

Okay, so the phone wasn’t so safe.

Cursing her lack of Hulk abilities, she gave up trying to crush the phone in her hands, and stared at the words on the screen. Her heart stuttered a beat. Grace wanted to rip that part of her heart right out of her chest. It was no doubt the weakest link, the part guilty of letting him in.

Players had nothing on this guy; Darius took manipulation to a whole new level. All at once, she wanted to cry again. Holy Hannah, she needed to get a grip on her emotions. Her ups and downs were beginning to give herself whiplash; she could only imagine how they must be affecting Quentin. Sucking it up, she texted back.

Grace: Ive been better. Worse than earlier.

At least no one could accuse her of being a liar. Every word of her text was totally true.

Darius: Ah, im sorry angel face :(

If he kept it up, her phone would need to enter the witness protection program. She fought hard against the urge of tossing it at the closest wall.

Grace: Thnx. Eating then bed.

She still didn’t lie. Eventually, she’d be eating and going to bed. She didn’t say when, and she never mentioned sleeping.

Darius: K. Plz call or txt if u need me.

Yeah, right!

Grace: K.

The rest of the evening went by without incident. Quentin quietly lingered wherever Grace was. Amanda kept herself busy with chores and homework in other areas of the house for the rest of the night. She knew whatever was wrong was none of her business, and Grace’s earlier storming through the manor apparently convinced her to keep her distance. Grace was glad she didn’t pry, because she didn’t want to be added to the long list of liars that was accumulating. When Quentin brought her some of the takeout he’d ordered, Grace barely had the appetite for it, and played with the food more than she ate it.

When Laney got home, Grace turned off her bedroom light, hoping her mother would think she was sleeping. She was in no mood for talking.

Despite the arsenal of Red Bull, she couldn’t stay awake. Grace lost the war against sleep sometime after two a.m.

My soul to take…


Just like the ever-loyal servant, Grace’s alarm clock started screaming at her at six thirty a.m. She groaned loudly, and smacked it off the nightstand, but it kept wailing. Bent at the waist, she hung off the mattress, pulling the clock out from under her bed by the cord, and almost ripping the darn thing right out of the wall. With a deep breath, she got herself under control, then flicked the Off button.

No matter all the Red Bull she forced down, she’d fallen asleep anyway. It pissed her off. However, she was pretty sure she didn’t dream. If she had, she couldn’t remember it. That was good. She hoped.

A soft buzzing coming from the vicinity of her dresser pulled her from the warmth of her blankets. Gosh, her body was heavy. It was tough carrying herself across the floor. It felt like she’d gained twenty pounds overnight. Halfway to the dresser, the noise stopped. She wondered what it was, but wasn’t curious enough to keep hunting for it. Lethargically, she spun around to head back to bed, then paused—the buzzing was there again.

Grace stepped up to her dresser, because she could tell whatever was buzzing was somewhere inside. As she quickly pulled drawers out, the buzz got louder when she got to her sock drawer. Rifling through thousands of socks, she found her vibrating cell phone. What the…? Quentin had clearly worried about the safety of her phone.

It was Darius. A hammer would work. Grace shook her head, pushed the Ignore button, and checked her texts. All of them were from him … again.

Darius: Couldn’t sleep, thinkin of u.

Right. The time of the text was 1:21 a.m. He wasn’t sleeping, because she wasn’t. How sweet. Not.

Darius: R u feeling better?

Darius: I can bring u soup n ice cream.

A lump of emotion caught in her throat. She hated him. She wanted to hate him. For sure, she hated her traitorous heart. In a matter of hours, Quentin went from not caring to falling. And Darius from this super sweet, sigh-inducing boyfriend, to a heart-stomping soul crusher. Grace obviously needed to reevaluate her ability to make sound choices about the men in her life.

Grace: Lil better. Mite stay home again tho.

Darius: U want me to bring chicken soup n ice cream?

Grace swallowed hard to push the lump down, and sighed.

Grace: No. U shud stay away.

Far away.

Darius: K.

Like a railroad spike had just been hammered into her heart, she clutched at her shirt. She wanted to cry.


Grace handed Amanda the keys to the Shelby. “I might try to go to school a little later. Quentin can take me if I do.”

Amanda stared at her, seemingly straight through her, before giving her a tight hug. “I can get your homework if you need, just text me.” When Amanda pulled away, her eyes were sad. Grace didn’t move from her spot as Amanda walked away. Right as she was about to leave the family room, she turned back to Grace. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Grace felt horrible, and looked at the floor next to Amanda, because she really couldn’t look her in the eye. She hated having to keep secrets. “Uh-huh.”

Laney was already at work, so after Amanda left, Grace and Quentin were alone. She contemplated asking more questions, but remembering the possible consequence of the last one she’d asked, kept her mouth shut.

Quentin plopped down on the couch next to her, bouncing her slightly. His chipper mood caused her eye to twitch. She wanted to sulk.

“So,” he said, clasping his hands in his lap. “What do you want to do today?”

That was easy. “Die,” she muttered.

He wasn’t so chipper now. His stare gouged a hole in the side of her head, but she kept her eyes straight ahead. “That’s not funny,” he said flatly.

“I’m not kidding.” Grabbing the remote from the table, she clicked robotically through the channels, one arm crossed over her middle. There wasn’t anything worth watching on the boob tube anyway. Grace clicked the TV back off, threw the remote on the cushion next to her, and got up. “I’m going to go get ready.”

“For what?” Quentin asked.

“School.” Quentin started to protest as he too got up from the couch, but she ignored him and walked to her room.