Black Halo (Grace Series)

by S. L. Naeole

  “She told me about her childhood and I told her about mine, and there wasn’t anything that we couldn’t say to each other. It’s something I’ve never been able to share with anyone besides Grace. I’ve never felt closer to someone in my life.

  “Lark told me she wanted to be with me. I didn’t know what to say. I wish I had been more romantic about the idea, but I just stuttered like an idiot. She said it was charming. She said that she had never felt this way before, and I told her that I hadn’t either.

  “It was the most unbelievable thing I have ever experienced. I can’t write down what it felt like or what it was, but I know now that I’ll never want anything else for the rest of my life. I feel like I could do anything now. Except fly. She takes care of that.”

  The book dropped from my fingers, and I stared at Graham, my hands shaking with fear. He was stoic, my reaction obviously expected, and I felt even angrier, more upset than humanly possible.

  “How could she?” I breathed, bringing my fingers into my palms, balling then into fists that dug into the mattress. “She knew-she knew what would happen and she didn’t care.”

  I threw myself off of the bed and stormed out the room, my feet stomping down the stairs with loud clomps. I didn’t pay attention to the footsteps that followed, didn’t care. I flung the front door open and looked up at the sky, dusk having split the sky into a before and after of time.

  I pressed my hands against my head as I focused my thoughts. How could you? How could you do that to him?

  Over and over, the questions repeated themselves in my mind and I shook with the force of my anger. Graham was beside me, one hand pulling an arm down, the other pressing something against my chest.

  “Grace, please finish reading. Please.”

  My eyes bulged as I looked at the book he had forced into my hold. “What else is there? You’re going to die, Graham. What else is there to read? What does it matter?”

  “Read it, Grace.”

  I tore the book from his loose grasp and quickly returned to the last page. There was nothing after the last sentence I had read, nothing but blank lines where I had left off.

  “What? Read what, Graham—there’s nothing here.”

  His finger stuck out and he pointed the bottom of the page where a single line was written in small letters, Graham’s handwriting clearer and smoother than anything else he’d written in the entire book. I brought the tablet up to my face to inspect it more closely, the words themselves not of any concern until I saw one word.

  It was then that I actually read what had been written, and I gasped.

  I looked at him, wondering why I hadn’t seen it, why I hadn’t realized it. He didn’t look different; he didn’t look different at all.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered. “Why didn’t you let me know?”

  “Lark told me not to tell you, that you had enough to worry about. She said that when it was time for you, you needed to be able to do it without any outside sources influencing your decision, whatever that means.”

  “But I’m your best friend,” I said to him, my voice even softer this time.

  “There’s a lot that we don’t know about each other, Grace, a lot of secrets that we’ve kept from each other. This was just one of mine.”

  I shook my head, surprise, shock, sadness all fighting for control inside of me. “But this is…this is not just a secret that affects you, Graham. This is something that affects your parents, too.”

  “My parents, Grace? My dad’s in rehab, trying to get off of the booze. Mom’s in Florida with her new boyfriend, too busy tanning and trying to be all…tan and crap to care what I’m doing, who I’m with, or what my plans are. She wants me in Florida because she knows it’ll piss off my dad; that’s it.

  “The only person who’s ever given a damn about me beside you was your dad, and why would he have to find out?”

  “Graham, did you do this with permission?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Yes, Grace. Ameila was there.”

  My eyes widened, shock winning out.

  “She was?”

  Graham’s head bounced once in confirmation and I stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over the boxes of trash we had piled outside for pickup.

  “She was the one who did it. She insisted on it.”

  I looked back at the one line sentence on the last page and shook my head, unsure whether it was disappointment or jealousy that now caused the throbbing in my chest.

  “I was turned tonight. Forever is now more than just a word.”

  FULL HOUSE

  I spent the majority of the next day in my kitchen, cooking for Janice’s arrival home from the hospital. Robert helped with the preparation, his speed far more useful than any food processor or mixer, while Graham vacuumed the entire house. Stacy had Sean drop her off an hour before Janice was scheduled to arrive home with Dad and Matthew, her hands full of packages of diapers.

  “I did a search online and read that a newborn can go through twelve diapers a day; twelve!” she announced as she plopped on the sofa, the diapers falling all around her and interrupting Graham’s cleaning. “That’s a lot of crap! I think that Janice will appreciate as many of these things as she can get.”

  “I’d appreciate you picking all of them up and taking them upstairs,” Graham grumbled, “and putting them in the nursery where they belong.”

  “Oh give me a minute, would you?”

  Graham, not willing to spare a minute or even a second, bent down to pick up the packages and with a huff, stomped upstairs.

  “He’s so easy,” Stacy laughed, jumping up and coming to hug me. “How exciting, the baby’s coming home today!”

  “You need to be nicer to Graham,” I said to her with a laugh, returning her hug. “He’s going to be your prom date, remember? If you want to look good in the pictures, you’re going to have to give him a good reason.”

  “Oh, he will, don’t worry. Speaking of which, tomorrow after school, we’re going to this awesome vintage clothing store I saw on the way to the doctor yesterday. There’s a dress in there that I know will look fabulous on you.”

  She winked at me before her smile disappeared. “Oh, hey, Robert.”

  “Hello, Stacy,” he said casually, his knife a blur as it turned onions and peppers into tiny cubes on the cutting board. “So you’re taking Grace shopping for her prom dress, tomorrow?”

  “Um, yeah,” she answered nervously, her eyes flicking to mine in a silent apology.

  “Well, I’m sure that she’ll look beautiful in it. Just try to make sure she’s not too beautiful. I’d prefer that be saved for me.”

  He winked at her and I saw the hint of a blush on Stacy’s cheeks as Robert quickly scraped the vegetables into a bowl and began working on the tomatoes for the salad.

  “Well, yeah, okay,” Stacy stuttered before pulling me away from the stove. “So, he’s okay with this?”

  I looked at Robert and nodded. I hadn’t intended on discussing the topic with him at all, not wanting to have to come to a decision between breaking my promise to Shawn and turning down Robert should he have asked, but it looked like I wouldn’t have to do either.

  “Grace, I told you that I had no intention of asking you to prom. That hasn’t changed,” he said as he expertly arranged tomato wedges onto the salad. He reached for a cucumber and began to slice them as well. “You told Shawn that you’d be going with him to prom. I’m not going to stop you from doing that.”

  Stacy frowned, her face matching my own. “Why don’t you want to go to prom with Grace? Why are you letting her go with Salsa Boy?”

  I looked at him expectantly, wanting to hear the answer that I had been too afraid to ask for myself.

  Robert looked at the two of us as he continued to slice. “Because Grace deserves to have a normal prom; she can’t have one with me as her date.”

  “Of all the-” Stacy began.

>   “The fact that I’m going to prom at all is abnormal,” I said, cutting her off. Sighing, I returned to the stove, adding the onions and peppers that Robert had diced to the pot. “We’ll be the dorkiest couple there.”

  Stacy grunted, unsatisfied by my response but knowing that there was nothing further to discuss if I wasn’t willing to change my plans. “What are you making?” she asked, standing on her toes to peek into the pot.

  “Stuffing for chicken breasts. We’re having that plus a salad and I’ve got a cake cooling on the table.” I pointed to the round pans behind us and she turned to examine them.

  “Well, what can I do to help?” she asked, seeing that there wasn’t much that she could do to outpace Robert’s quick knife skills.

  “You could make sure that the nursery is aired out and that everything is organized,” I answered.

  “Okay. I can’t believe there’s going to be a baby in the house!” she clapped. “Does it make you look forward to having one of your own, Grace?”

  The metallic clink was the only warning. Robert’s head turned so swiftly, his body launching forward at such an intense speed he became a blur and I felt the rumblings of a scream form inside of me as the knife he had been using clattered to the ground, half of the blade now missing.

  Stacy’s eyes widened before she disappeared, Robert’s body pushing her out of the way of the wayward tip. The strangled sound that had built up in my throat made its way out as Graham stepped forward, directly into the path of the sharp piece of metal.

  “Graham!” I cried out, my hand lashing out to grab at nothing but air, my foot catching on the table leg. I jerked it free and rushed toward him, my eyes large as I watched the metal shard, followed it as it headed towards its final destination.

  There was a soft crunching sound as the blade entered his shoulder. His eyes widened and I reached a hand out to cover the wound, my breath coming in quick bursts as panic began to take hold. “It’s okay, it’s alright, Graham. We’ll get it out, you’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

  I waited for the warm trickle of blood to begin to flow through my fingers, and I watched Graham’s expression change from frightened to confused. He pulled my hands away from the wound and we both gasped at what we saw.

  The broken blade of the knife had embedded itself deep into his right shoulder, the slice in the shirt clean, the wound smooth, a glint of metal visible outside of it. But there was no blood.

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered, and looked up at him. “You’re not bleeding.”

  “What do you mean he’s not bleeding? Why isn’t he bleeding?” Stacy asked as Robert helped her recover from the shock of being tackled by him. “What the hell? Why aren’t you bleeding, Graham? Why the hell aren’t you freaking bleeding, Graham?”

  Robert walked over to me and slowly edged me aside, his fingers gripping the remaining edge of the blade that remained outside and pulling it out. Stacy and I both uttered expletives as the wound began to seal itself once the foreign object had been removed.

  Graham, on the other hand, had just a one word response. “Cool.”

  Robert’s hand clenched around the knife blade and I flinched as sparks flew out from between his fingers. His hand opened and a perfect steel sphere dropped onto the floor and rolled towards my feet, the metal scorching hot from the pressure it took to alter its form so drastically.

  “When?” he demanded as he gripped Graham’s shirt, lifting him up as though the shirt wasn’t attached to a whole person.

  “What?”

  Robert slammed Graham’s body into the frame of the entryway, the act causing the whole house to shudder. “When?” he said again, this time his voice taking on a deep, rumbling tone.

  “A-a few days before Lark left,” Graham gulped, genuine fear flooding his eyes.

  “Why?”

  “I l-love your sister. I can’t be without her, and after what she went through with that Luca person, she doesn’t want to be without me. We got permission, Robert. Everything was done on the up and up, I swear.”

  Stacy’s face was one of utter confusion…and heartbreak. I held my hand out to her and when she grabbed it, I squeezed it reassuringly. “So…this means he’s turned,” she said to me softly.

  I nodded, unable to say it with words.

  “I guess that leaves me as the odd man out,” she said with a sad chuckle. “As usual, I suppose. I’m happy for you, Graham.”

  “Thanks,” he replied sheepishly from his perch above the floor, Robert’s grip still pinning him to the frame. “I didn’t exactly want it to be found out this way, you know. I’m sorry that we didn’t tell you.”

  Robert looked away, his eyes searching for mine, and seeing in them the knowledge that I had known, and that I hadn’t told him. I could see the flash of hurt in them before they turned dark.

  “Robert,” I started, my hand reaching out to him, but he was too fast, much too fast. In less than a blink, he was gone. It was as though he had never been there to begin with.

  “Oh God,” I moaned. I had hurt him by not telling him about Graham, broken the fragile trust that had begun to grow between us with one stupid omission.

  “Grace, I-I’m sorry,” Graham said to me from his position on the floor. He stood up, his hands quickly wrapping around me. “I shouldn’t have told you alone. This is all my fault.”

  Stacy’s fist whipped out and crashed into his side, pushing a loud grunt out of him. “You idiot—you’re right, this is all your fault. Why didn’t you tell me first?”

  “Because I wasn’t planning on telling anyone,” he responded, letting me go only long enough to rub the area that Stacy had assaulted. “Not until Lark came back, anyway. But I wanted Grace to see that she could trust me, and in order to do that I had to tell her about…this. I didn’t think that something like this would happen. My God, what did happen?”

  Stacy bent down to pick up the metal ball that had rolled towards the kitchen, stopping just shy of the doorway. “I think I asked the wrong question.”

  Graham rubbed his shoulder, the hole in his shirt still visible but the flesh beneath it smooth and undamaged. “I didn’t want any of this to get out yet—Ameila said that I can still get hurt, just that I won’t die from it. I didn’t think that I’d find out so soon that she was right. And I didn’t want it to happen in front of Robert. God, I’m such a colossal screw-up.”

  “It’s not your fault, Graham,” I said in a small voice. “I should have told him last night when he picked me up, but I kept thinking that it was your secret, that you should be the one to tell him. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

  “Well, whether or not it was right doesn’t matter right now because you’re burning your dinner, Grace,” Stacy spoke up, her head motioning towards the kitchen.

  “Oh no!” I cried out, pulling out of Graham’s embrace and running towards the smoking stove. “It’s all ruined.”

  Everything that had been sitting on the stove was now charred, and I shook my head in disgust as I pulled my pots off of their burners, covering my nose to block the acrid scent of burnt rice and onions. “What am I going to do? I don’t have time to go to the store and buy more groceries.”

  Stacy bent down to pick up the handle of the destroyed knife. “Or a new chef’s knife.”

  Graham held up two pieces of wood. “Or a new chopping board.”

  “What time is it?” I asked, spinning around to look at the clock on the stove and groaning as I realized that it had not been set since the blackout a month ago.

  “It’s almost five,” Stacy told me, pointing to the clock on the wall.

  “I’ve got four-thirty,” Graham answered, his eyes pointing at his watch.

  “Well, whichever is right, we don’t have enough time to get dinner done before Janice and the baby get here. All of my plans are rui—the cake!”

  Only at that moment did I realize that the small table that sat in the middle of the kitchen was now lying on its side, a
nd everything that had been resting on top of it, including my cake, was now scattered on the floor behind it.

  “What the hell am I going to do now?” I dropped to my knees to try and gather up the crumbs and chunks that littered the tiles, knowing that it was hopeless to try and save them, but finding my motivation to do anything else completely gone.

  Stacy and Graham knelt beside me, helping me with cleaning up the mess, each of them saying nothing. Graham lifted the table, setting it back on its legs, while Stacy began to sweep the floor. The two of them quietly began to dump the ruined food into the trash as I sat on the floor, feeling absolutely miserable.

  “Come on, Grace. You’ve got to get up and help clean this place up. We’ll call for pizza or something.” Stacy bent down to lift me up, her hands strong around my arm.

  Graham grabbed my other arm and together, they got me to my feet. “Grace, come on. I’ll wash, you dry.” He led me to the sink and began the task of sorting through the pots and pans, discarding the broken knife and split chopping board as he did so.

  “I think I know how the knife broke. The question now is how are we gonna cover this up?” Stacy asked, pointing to a deep gouge in the countertop where Robert had been slicing the cucumbers.

  “Stacy, one thing at a time, okay?” Graham chastised, his head nodding in my direction.

  “Oh. Right. Never mind, Grace.”

  It took twenty minutes to get all of the dishes done, and I sat on a righted chair as I stared glumly at the empty stove top while Graham took out the trash bag that held my carefully prepared and quickly ruined dinner.

  “I’ll go and order those pizzas now,” Stacy said, to Graham more than to me, before heading into the living room.

  The doorbell ringing brought a slight head-raise from me, but I didn’t move to answer it. It wouldn’t be Dad—he had a key—so I let Stacy check to see who it was. I listened to the muffled conversation as Stacy spoke to whoever it was that was outside, then heard the door close. Stacy padded into the kitchen with her arms loaded with boxes, the smell of food wafting from them, a welcome change to the carbon aroma that still permeated the room.