Redemption: The Evolution of Grace: A Nephilim Urban Fantasy (Grace Gamble Trilogy Book 1)

by Sabra Kay

  I leaned forward, looking him in the eye, and grabbed his hand. “You could move into the Grove, you know. Get a job at the lounge. Claire would hire you in a heartbeat.”

  “That's a big nope, Grace. This is my bar, my place. I belong here, and you’re my girl. We've gotten along just fine so far, right? No problems, no drama. I'm not letting some asshole Cambion come into my bar and intimidate me. Deal?”

  I planted a kiss on his sexy lips and pulled back to give him a smile. “Deal.”

  I stayed with him that night, a rarity. He passed out quickly with his arms around me and his forehead pressed to the back of my neck. I laid awake, feeling the shadows cluster around me, oppressive, insistent, and ominous. They sucked the air away from me and sent their tendrils to pluck at my aura, oblivious to the protective ward Harry had on the building. I closed my eyes, willing sleep but it wouldn't succumb to my demand for relief. I tried silent begging but was refused. I focused on Harry's breaths, counting them, matching them. Eventually the shadows fell back, revealing the moonlight streaming through the blinds and the intermittent reflection of passing headlights.

  And then I fell into a rare, dreamless, peaceful sleep.

  Chapter Four

  Groundhog Day. I opened my eyes, blinked away the sleep, reached for the water on the table, and fumbled for my lighter. I tripped over a laundry basket on my way to the bathroom and cursed as I rummaged through the vanity cupboard, hoping there was another roll of toilet paper.

  Then I headed back to the couch, thankful I didn't pass out from the head rush I earned from getting up too fast. I spied a box of Pop-Tarts I'd shoved under the coffee table a few days back and was pleased to find a sealed pack inside.

  The Reverend Billie Blaine scowled at me from his pulpit, fists clenched, reminding me that I was born from sin. We were all born from sin. I shoved a bite of Pop-Tart in my mouth and nodded. That's right, buddy. Just a bunch of shameful losers, wallowing in sin and gluttony.

  I watched him work up his rabid followers. He was in his mid-eighties, although he could have easily been older than that. He looked about fifty, though. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as Chuck would say. Spry and springy, with the gleam of full-blown insanity in his eyes. He had a full head of hair and a not-so-convincing fake-and-bake tan. He was disgusting. Every word he spoke, every laugh, every smile, turned my stomach. His laughter was the worst, like nails on a chalkboard that sent chills down my spine. Just ten minutes of this guy and I’d feel physically ill.

  Yet I couldn't stop watching.

  My blood boiled and my heart thumped violently in my chest. I glared at the hypocrisy and insanity spilling out of my television and cursed profusely. Why did I do this to myself? It's like I wanted to get angry.

  Today's sermon highlighted the evils of 'false light.' Those that engaged in sinful practices such as yoga, meditation, and positive thinking. A ticket to hell, smacking of witchcraft and free-thinking.

  Blaine had been on a rampage of late, rallying his followers against anything new-agey, and anything self-helpey. Most of it made me cringe, too, but I knew his angle. He wanted to get rid of anything people might use to empower themselves, anything that might protect them against the soul-sucking parasites and opportunistic demon forces barraging them nonstop. What a joke.

  What most people didn't know was that the surest way to not get possessed by a demon was to avoid watching televangelists and go volunteer somewhere.

  My phone buzzed. Darah demanded to know what I was doing and why I wasn't home. I checked the time. She'd texted me just after midnight. Harry had left his signature sweet good morning text. And, like clockwork, Chuck had sent his morning inspiration.

  “I find hope in the darkest of days and focus in the brightest. I do not judge the universe. - The Dalai Lama.” Then, “How soon can you be ready? I've got a busy day, but I'm free now.”

  I smiled and texted back through bleary eyes. “Give me twenty minutes.”

  I downed a cup of coffee, brushed my teeth, and splashed cold water on my face. I checked the time. I had five minutes. Mama squirrel would have to wait.

  I lit another cigarette and grabbed my purse to meet him outside. Not that Chuck would judge me, but I didn't want him to see what a mess my place was.

  Sure enough, I'd no sooner stomped my cigarette butt out when Chuck rolled up in his aging Subaru and waved me in. His car smelled vaguely like incense, which told me he'd probably just taken Luz home. She smelled permanently of Palo Santo, and even though he'd quit smoking, the leather seats held the scent of old tobacco in an oddly pleasant way. Chuck, on the other hand, wrinkled his nose at my freshly smoked scent.

  “When are you going to quit?” He laughed, then answered his own question. “When you're damn well ready, and hopefully before you end up with COPD or emphysema.”

  As if on cue, he coughed into his shirt, then raised his eyebrows and set his mouth as if to say, 'I told you so.'

  He slapped both hands on the wheel and announced, “We're going to Pat's for bacon and eggs. I'm starving.”

  I nodded. Luz was vegan, which was a major incompatibility for her and Chuck in an otherwise harmonious relationship.

  He fiddled with the radio, passed over some twangy country station, the hip-hop station, and the Billy Blaine radio sermon. He paused just long enough to catch “...fear and shame aren't bad things; they're signs that you aren't living in the lord's light. Signs you must repent.”

  He grimaced and landed on a classic rock station that was hammering out ACDC's “Highway to Hell.” Satisfied, he nodded his head in time with the music, cranked it up, and sucked down a gulp of coffee from his thermos.

  Chuck consumed more coffee than anyone I knew, but I was right on his tail. Yes, pancakes, sausage, eggs, and a hot cup of coffee with free refills was exactly what I needed to set my head right.

  We parked down a side street, and walked into Pat's, heading straight to his favorite booth, which was always empty and waiting for him. I sometimes wondered if he hadn't had Luz cook up a spell to keep other customers from sitting there.

  Pat's was a vintage style diner with red vinyl booths and 50's hits on repeat. It was Chuck's favorite place in the world besides The Grove. When he was homeless, Terri the waitress would buy him coffee and sometimes breakfast. Three years later, and he was still a regular. He returned her kindness by leaving her a big tip every time he ate there, which was at least twice a week.

  “What's up, Chuck? How are things at The Grove?”

  “Not bad. I've been busy as hell. When I'm not on demon duty, Claire's got me on all sorts of projects around the place. Keepin' busy, kid.” He laughed a hearty, good-natured laugh, then burst into loud singing.

  Claire owned and ran the Grove Hotel. She was in her early thirties and had a life far more complicated than I did. She was full-on human, and of all the humans I knew who could have benefited from the ability to See, she was the one.

  Terri walked over and greeted Chuck warmly. He was a regular, and she knew exactly what he wanted. I ordered full stack, four sausages, scrambled eggs, a biscuit and a cup of beautiful, black coffee.

  I tapped my fingertips on the table while we waited for Terri to return with our coffee. Being on leave was messing with my head, giving me way too much time to think. Meanwhile, demon forces were multiplying, and the assholes upstairs were planning our demise, and I couldn't do anything about it.

  “What about you, kid? How have you been?” Chuck inquired.

  “I'm still, uh, having those nasty headaches and dizzy spells.” I thought about it for a moment and quickly added, “But they're getting better. Dr. Page says it should resolve itself soon.”

  “Just take it slow. You'll be back to your normal self in no time.” Chuck looked around for the waitress, and as if by magic, she appeared with a pot of coffee and a small bowl with cream and sugar packets. “Thanks, Terri.”

  I waited patiently while she poured a cup for Chuck, then me. I immediately took a
deep gulp, burning my tongue and throat and dribbling the precious liquid down my chin and all over my shirt like a pro.

  My tongue was still on fire from the coffee, but that wasn't stopping me. I poured myself a refill. She should have brought two pots. We'd have this killed before our breakfast arrived.

  We chowed in silence for several minutes. It was the first proper meal I'd had in days. My appetite was voracious as usual, and I could easily finish off the giant breakfast and go back for seconds.

  “Chuck?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What do you remember from that night?”

  He sighed and finished his coffee, pouring us each another cup.

  “We've gone over this, Grace. A million times. I know it's still bugging you, but rehashing it isn't going to help.”

  “It helps me, and maybe it'll jog my memory, you know? Don't you think it's weird? Neither of us remembers most of the night. How many jobs have you done that went down like this?”

  He shook his head. “Sometimes jobs go bad. This one was a little more out of control than most.”

  “A little? Cervantes died, so did that possessed woman and a gang of cambion. All of them. Seems weird. Why can't we remember?”

  “The doc says I hit my head. You did, too. Mina lost a lot of blood, and Ayana was in the middle of opening a door to the other side, so no, it doesn't surprise me.

  “When was the last time you were on a job and a Cambion incinerated the possessed? It's usually us dodging the fire if it happens at all.”

  Chuck chewed on that for a moment, squinting at me. He didn't like talking about that night. No one did.

  Why was that?

  “I don't know. My guess is it was another possessed, maybe one that had lost its mind, was out of control, no idea how to deal with its powers. Maybe it was a hit. You never know. They have their own agenda, their own power plays. Maybe they figured the demon was already ejected, so why not burn up the host. I have no idea, kid. But you are obsessing on this, and it's not good for you.”

  “Obsessing? My job is on the line, Chuck.”

  “Nah, just relax. Things will unfold the way they are supposed to.”

  “Unfold?”

  “Yes. You know, work out. Things that are supposed to happen will happen without our interference. Obsessing won't change anything. Just have some patience.”

  “Everything feels out of control.” I shook my head.

  Chuck's eyes twinkled as he poured another cup. “You feel out of control. You're the only thing you have any control over. Anything else is an illusion. You learn to control yourself, and everything else will fall into place.”

  I snorted. “Okay, Confucius.”

  “You can call me Chuck.”

  I leaned back in the booth, happy to be out of my dismal cave but frustrated that I still couldn't get closure. A young couple entered the diner, holding hands and giggling as Terri sat them in the booth next to us. Chuck regarded them briefly then gave me a pointed look.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You know, I like Harry, I do. But I don't like that all you do is hang out at that bar. I'm going to kindly suggest, and it's just a suggestion, that maybe if you cut out the booze, you might start feeling better. Just a thought.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off.

  “You could be doing other things, Grace. Fun things. Keep it simple, invite him over for dinner, or go see a movie. You know, normal stuff.”

  I sighed. “Normal people go to bars all the time.”

  “Yeah, I said normal stuff, kid. You aren't exactly normal people. Hate to break it to you.”

  ***

  Chuck dropped me home an hour later, full of pancakes and caffeine. I paced around my apartment, half-heartedly cleaned up my tiny kitchenette, took out the garbage, and then headed outside to fill the feeders and leave my daily offering for the Mama. It was cold and gray, and the moisture in the air frizzed my hair and permeated my sweatshirt. By the time I went back inside, my teeth were chattering, and my clothes were damp, clinging to me and chilling my bones. I shivered my way back inside and popped a pod into the coffee maker.

  While I stood waiting for the coffee to brew the phone rang. It was Ethan, my high-school ex and oldest friend besides Darah. I felt a pang of guilt, I hadn’t called him in months. By the third ring I worked up the courage to answer.

  “Grace?”

  I tensed at the sound of his voice. Something was wrong.

  “Ethan, what happened?”

  “Someone tried to kidnap my daughter.”

  ***

  “What the hell? Oh, Ethan. Is she okay?” I leaned against the counter, feeling the telltale pins and needles I’d come to associate with panic.

  Sera was family, a sweet girl who, like me, lost her Mother at an early age. We had a bond.

  “She's fine. Fine. Rachael is a mess... I'm a mess.” He sounded on the verge of breaking, but the tightness in his voice told me there was something else.

  “Did you go to the police? Who is handling the case?” This was always the big question as a nephilim civilian. Who do you go to? The cops? The CDT? Both?

  “No one. I can't call anyone.”

  “Ethan? What do you mean you can't call anyone? What's going on?”

  “I can't talk about it now. Can you come to the house? Please. Don't tell anyone, not even Darah. And definitely not your Father.”

  Alarms went off in my head. Ethan was normally so open, and Darah was just as much his friend as I was. “What is going on, Ethan? I won't say anything, but why?”

  “Just don't say anything, please. I have to go. Let me know when you're on your way.”

  “I'll be there soon.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Grace?”

  “Yeah?”

  “One more time. Don't say anything to anyone.”

  “I got it. Be there as soon as I can.

  I should have called Darah or Miles immediately. I knew this. Ethan was obviously distraught, and it made no sense to me that he would want to keep this from them. It didn’t sound like he was calling the regular police, either.

  Chapter Five

  The fog hung thick and heavy over the Golden Gate Bridge as I made my way north. Ethan kept an apartment in Sacramento, but his home was among the rolling green hills of Sonoma County. The house was a rambling two-story, gray with white trim surrounded with velvety pastures and gnarled old oaks.

  I stepped out of the car just as Rachel opened the front door and headed down the porch steps to greet me. She was a tall, pretty brunette wearing yoga pants and an oversized flannel shirt. Seraphina Cole was right on her heels, dancing her way down the steps, a good head taller than when I'd seen her last.

  She shrieked in delight when she saw me. “Grace! Grace! You're here!”

  She bounced down the steps and flung herself at me. A sharp pang of guilt struck me as we embraced.

  “Hello, Grace.” Rachael smiled, but her eyes weren't in it. “Come on in, Ethan's inside.”

  Sera shoved her stuffed toy at me. “This is Rex Bunny. I wanted a real one but Rachel's allergic.”

  I accepted the stuffed bunny, all black velvet and well-loved. “Hello, Rex Bunny!”

  I was in awe of how happy and at ease she was, given the circumstances. Kids are so resilient.

  “Ethan, it's Grace,” Rachael informed him.

  Sera bounced her way on to the couch and spider-monkeyed herself onto Ethan's back as he rose to greet me.

  “Grace, it's so good to see you.” He offered a one-armed hug and smiled. “Sera, honey. Maybe Rachael can take you outside for a few minutes. Go see if you can find those ducks again!”

  Sera's face fell. “But I want to see Grace!”

  “Of course you do, sweetie, and you will. We'll eat dinner together, right Grace?”

  I nodded, and Ethan motioned Rachael to take the girl outside. When they left, he sank back into the couch and pressed his palms against his
eyes. I said nothing, allowing him to let go of the façade he had been holding up while his daughter was in the room.

  “I don't know if I could go on if something happened to her, Grace. I really don't think I could. I know we're not supposed to think like that, but after losing Sian, I...” He shook his head abruptly as if to shake the memories away.

  I reached for his hand, and we sat in silence. Ethan and I had few things in common. He was the kind of man that was innately good in his core. He lived to serve, whether it be his family, his community, humans, or the earth.

  We’d dated years ago, and even after the breakup, we had stayed good friends, but we'd grown apart since he’d gotten married and become a Father. I knew I hadn't been there for him as much as I could have after his wife died. The last few months, I'd been so self-absorbed I had stopped calling and coming by altogether.

  “What happened, Ethan?”

  He took a deep breath. “Rachel took her to the store just up the road. She was loading up the back of the car, and Sera was standing at the back passenger door, getting ready to open it and climb in. Two men pulled up, grabbed her, and took off. It happened so fast Rachel couldn't get a picture of the license plate or a description of the men.

  He stopped for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

  I tried to make eye contact, but he seemed to avoid it. “Wait? So they did kidnap her? They got away with her?” I was confused.

  “They did. They pulled her into the car and took off. Rachel ran after them. The car slammed on its brakes and went into a spin before coming to a stop. Rachel was able to get the door open and pull Sera out.”

  “Okay, and then what happened.” I coaxed.

  His eyes darted from me to the door, and he shifted in his seat. We endured another couple of moments of silence while he stared at his feet. What could be so bad he couldn't just tell me?

  He sagged a little, spread his hands, and frowned. “This next part is where it gets weird, Grace. I still don't understand it. I really don't.”