Blood Ties: A Grace Harper Novel

by J. T. Hardy

  Kokabiel's expression changed from persuasion to wonder. He stared at our hands, and Daniel not burning to a crisp, and his smile grew wider.

  "I've looked for you for centuries," he said. I heard him clear as day, despite the shouts behind me. "You will come to me now."

  "Get stuffed."

  He gestured and the van door slid open. Rocky appeared in all his craggy glory, yanking someone into view.

  My heart stopped. Soared.

  "Dad?" It was him. Rumpled and pale, but him.

  Kokabiel offered me his hand. "Come to me, Grace, or he dies."

  "Run, Squashling," Dad said. "Don't look at your mom, just run." He pleaded with me from twenty feet away, but his mind was twenty years in the past, on a deserted road outside Pensacola.

  Daniel's grip on my hand tightened, hot against the cool rain. "You can't."

  "It's my father."

  "He's telling you to run."

  "No, he's telling a five-year-old to run. He doesn't know where he is."

  "You cannot give yourself to Kokabiel."

  "I don't care! He's not killing my father!"

  "Come to me, Grace," Kokabiel said again. "Or I will kill him."

  Dad laughed, the hearty and loud chortle that always made me feel safe and loved. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, came back to me from the past. "Don't y'all know? I'm already dead, jackass."

  He looked at me and he was there, tired, sad, but in the here and now. "Go with Daniel. I've had longer than I should have. It's time to go."

  I shook my head. "I'm not running anymore."

  "You don't have a choice, and I'm sorry for that."

  Kokabiel damn near growled. "Command her to obey or you will die."

  "A month to live, big guy." He tapped his temple. "Now's as good a time as any I gather." He looked back at me. My father, my family. The only thing in my life that had ever been constant and sure. "I love you, Hannah Grace, always will."

  "I love you--"

  Kokabiel blurred and grabbed Dad's head in his hands. I screamed, reaching for the water pistol in my pack that my heart said I'd never get to in time.

  Dad sucked in a pained breath and sank to his knees. Rocky let him fall, sliding out of his grip. I flailed against Daniel, screaming, but he refused to let me go.

  "No! Dad!"

  Dad blinked. Shook his head. One trembling hand rose and he touched his temple, prodding it with his fingers. He looked at me, then back to Kokabiel, uncertainty on his face. "Well, shit."

  Kokabiel took two steps closer to me, right to the edge of church grounds. A tiny spark flared by his toes, bright blue and white.

  "What did you do to my father?" I screamed.

  "I healed him. He'll no longer die unless I wish it."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dad's color looked normal and his eyes were clear. Even the harsh pained lines in his face had all but vanished. I'd dreamed of this every night--a healthy father. The cancer gone. But miracles weren't real, not for us. We'd never been that lucky.

  It was a trick.

  I glared at Kokabiel, my hand so temptingly close to the water pistol. I'd kill him twice for making this hurt so badly.

  He smiled as if he'd done me a favor. "He'll live a full life if you do as I ask. Or he can die now and you'll still do what I want."

  "Liar." Dad wasn't better, and even if he was, Kokabiel would never let him go.

  "I speak truth." He gestured one graceful hand at Daniel. "Ask him."

  I backed up, pulling Daniel with me. "Is he for real?"

  "Yes."

  The world stilled as if he'd stopped time. A brain tumor wasn't going to eat away at my father. He wasn't going to die without remembering who I was. We could have years together, living the life these handsome sons of bitches had stolen from us.

  Anger shoved back some of my joy and I glared at Daniel. "Why didn't you do that when he got sick?" I gasped. "Libby! You can--"

  "I can't! I don't have Kokabiel's skills. I can't heal anyone."

  No. The universe had a crappy sense of humor. Who gives life-saving healing abilities to bloodthirsty creeps? It wasn't fair. I winced. I sounded like a child, but I felt like one. I just wanted my father back.

  "It changes nothing, Grace," Daniel continued. "You can't give Kokabiel what he wants."

  "Stop treating me like I matter more than my father does. Than Libby does." I jerked back, but didn't break free. Damn angel strength. Kokabiel made a noise that sounded far too close to a victory giggle and I screamed, frustrated to my core.

  Kokabiel had no reason to let Dad go, even if he had me. He wanted our blood. This was a ruse to get me close enough to grab.

  Dad knew that as well as I did. He rose easily to his feet in front of Rocky and gave me a sad smile. "I'm good, Grace," he said. "Don't worry about me. I'll be happy if you're safe. It's all I ever wanted for you."

  But I wanted more. I wanted my job and my friend and an apartment with useless things too big to pack in a duffel. I wanted holidays and family, and yes, one day kids running around getting in the way while I tried to do the mundane things like clean toilets or bake cookies.

  I wanted my father there to enjoy it all with me.

  Kokabiel grew more and more impatient as I stalled. Dad looked annoyed that I hadn't done the most selfish thing imaginable and saved my own skin.

  Daniel tugged me back toward the church steps. "Listen to him."

  "Will you people quit telling me to abandon my family!"

  "It's not just your family, it's everyone's family." He licked his lips, such a human gesture and without the awe-inspiring compulsion Kokabiel oozed.

  I pushed my hair out of my face and scowled. "I'm not letting my father die because of some crazy end-of-the-world theory with zero evidence to support it."

  "Grace, you have no idea what might happen if you go with him."

  "Neither do you."

  He glanced away. Sure, he'd been around for thousands of years, but he'd been a glorified babysitter. And let's face it, he'd screwed that up.

  If the world could end because I saved my father's life, the damn thing was broken beyond repair anyway.

  "Can angels lie?" I whispered.

  "Yes."

  "Is Kokabiel lying? Would he free Dad if I go with him?"

  Daniel clenched his lips together and looked away. "Grace, you can't--"

  "Answer me!"

  "He wants you, not Anthony. If Anthony's blood could get him home, neither of them would be here now."

  "Is that a yes?"

  Daniel looked back at me, his dark eyes heavy with fear and sadness. "I've never known him to lie, but that doesn't mean he isn't lying now."

  I could save Dad's life if I made the trade. If I said no, Kokabiel could kill him and still keep coming after me, same as he always had. He didn't need Dad alive to get to me. This might be Kokabiel changing tactics again, giving me what I wanted to get what he wanted.

  This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  Or a mistake that could cost me everything.

  A life on the run was no life at all. Kokabiel knew I wasn't normal now, and there was no way he'd stop chasing me. Maybe he was lying, but my life was over no matter what he did to Dad. If they killed him, they'd still chase me. If they let him live, he'd always be a carrot to lure me into their trap.

  It was just like Libby had told Dandridge--this was a rescue mission.

  Movement behind Daniel caught my eye. Cavanaugh was back on his feet, watching us from the church steps, pale and pacing. Distant sirens wailed, growing louder.

  "We're going with Libby's plan," I said softly. "I'm going to turn around and speak to Kokabiel in a minute. As sneakily as you can, unzip the front pocket of my backpack and pull out the small black device that looks like a tiny garage door opener. Turn it on, and sneak it into my pants inside my undies." It was small. It ought to wiggle its way low enough not to poke through my jeans.

  "This is--"

>   "Not open to discussion. Libby's pack has the receiver for the tracker." My heart clenched, but the sirens were louder now, closer. "You can follow me with it, you got that?" If the tracker didn't work, or Daniel lost me en route, I was so screwed, but Dad would be okay. Libby would make it. They'd take care of each other.

  I turned around and held still, keeping my backpack out of Kokabiel's sightline. "Fine, you win," I called to him. "I'll go with you, but only--" I held up one finger and wagged it, drawing it out as long as possible "--if you let my father go, alive and well, and never bother him again."

  "Agreed."

  "Whoa, that was, um, super fast."

  Kokabiel gestured and Rocky took hold of Dad's arm again. He nudged him forward a step.

  "Grace, you can't do this," Dad said, pleading.

  "Send him over."

  Kokabiel shook his head. "Come to us first."

  "What guarantee do I have you won't yank him back?"

  Kokabiel's brow furrowed and he seemed puzzled by my question. "Why would I lie?"

  I felt something slip into my pants and slide down my skin. Atta boy. "Fine, I'll come forward, but my father needs to be standing well into holy ground before I leave it."

  "You are untrusting."

  "Keeps me alive."

  Dad's eyes pleaded with me to stop this, to run and leave him to die like he would have anyway. Daniel wanted me to think about the world and what might happen. Neither could tell me what Kokabiel had planned or what it meant for anyone. He'd failed for thousands of years to get back to Heaven, so odds were good my blood didn't do a damn thing. Once he figured that out, he might even let me go. Whatever you need to tell yourself, Grace-face.

  I squeezed Daniel's hand. "I need to let go of you. Can you make it to the street before bursting into flames?"

  "It'll hurt, but yes."

  My heart pounded hard in my chest. "On three--one, two, go." I opened my hand and the sparks danced around him, hissing softly. He grunted, then blurred, scooping up the Aging Goth and Mountain Man and tossing them each over a shoulder like they were nothing. Not part of the plan, but okay. Good cover.

  Kokabiel didn't even glance their way or show any indication that he noticed, let alone cared what happened to them. He stood still as marble, smiling, his beautiful eyes locked on me.

  This weird fangel glamour aura sucks. So disconcerting to notice the buffness of a guy I wanted to pummel into angel paste. I glanced back at the steps, but Cavanaugh had gone.

  Rocky prodded a still-complaining Dad forward until he stood as deep onto holy ground as Rocky's arm would reach. Sparks flared.

  "Hi, Dad," I said, walking toward him. "How's it going?"

  Dad's eyes glistened with everything neither of us had time to say. "Slow day. Please don't do this."

  "I have to. Trust me, okay?"

  He hesitated, and a lifetime of unspoken words passed between us. "I'm trying, but this goes against every instinct I have. You sure you'll be all right?"

  "I'll be fine. I'm planning a fancy dinner with my guy later, so I have to be back in time. Taking him out for stone crabs."

  "My favorite. Hope he knows how lucky he is."

  "He does." I threw my arms around him, squeezing him close. His free arm tightened around my waist. Strong, like the father I'd always known. "This is going to work," I whispered.

  "It'd better. I can't lose you, too."

  I kissed his wet cheek. "You won't."

  For an evil bastard, Kokabiel stayed silent and patient as we said goodbye. He kept smiling at me in his weird and dreamy way, hope shining in his shifting opal eyes.

  "Hurry up," spit out Rocky, not so patient. But then, he was the one whose arm was frying to a crisp.

  I didn't remember much from my early years at temple, but the rabbis talked an awful lot about doing the right thing and taking care of those you loved. Saving Dad was the right thing. Giving Libby a chance to get to a hospital was the right thing. Helping strangers who had been abandoned was the right thing. And like Daniel said, it was just.

  "Fine, let's do this."

  And if I was wrong, well, there'd be no one left to say I told you so.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rocky pulled me into the van by his still-smoking arm and yanked my backpack off me with the other, nearly dislocating my shoulder in the process. I braced for a vision, but I guessed he wasn't feeling nostalgic at the moment.

  "Sit," he ordered, tossing my mini-arsenal into the back and well out of reach. He searched me with one hand, running it along my back and limbs. My knuckledusters and their sheath flew to the back and landed near my backpack. My water pistol joined it.

  I dropped onto a bench running down one side of the van, careful not to crush the tracker nestled just below my left butt check. Rocky sat next to me, close enough to prevent any funny business on my part. The human redhead was at the wheel again, his freckled hands gripping a pink fuzzy cover. He didn't look old enough to drive, let alone carry the gun strapped to his hip. I couldn't imagine how the kid got this job.

  The clock on the dashboard read 9:17, but the dark sky looked more like p.m. than a.m.

  This is the dumbest thing I've ever done in my entire life.

  Kokabiel stepped inside and closed the door, stooping with the grace of a dancer. His butt had barely touched the chair when Red floored it and peeled out. I caught the edge of the seat and steadied myself as the van bounced over the curb and ripped up the grass.

  Kokabiel smiled. In the dim light, his eyes were gray and pale, with the occasional orange spark as a lightning flash lit the van. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hannah Grace."

  "Only my father calls me that. You can call me Ms. Harper."

  "You're doing a noble thing, helping us."

  "This isn't help. It's kidnapping with intent to eat."

  The van careened around a corner, but Kokabiel didn't even sway in his seat. "You will be remembered for your sacrifice."

  "Swell."

  My knuckledusters called from their sheath, so close, yet out of reach. They'd have to wait, same as me. There wasn't nearly enough room to maneuver in the van, and Red would probably start shrieking and drive us right off the road and into a tree if it got hairy back here.

  It also wouldn't help the other captives.

  As satisfying as pounding Kokabiel into Mushface would be, I couldn't do a damn thing until I got to his lair.

  I just hoped there was something I could do.

  We hadn't made it out of the city before Kokabiel exhausted his repertoire of small talk, and for the last forty minutes he'd stayed quiet, reading who-knew-what on a pad he'd pulled out of a leather case between the seats. Rocky leaned back, arms crossed, eyes closed, but I was under no illusion that he wasn't poised to smack me down if I so much as breathed wrong.

  Orange-red buttes slid by outside, with the occasional burst of juniper and olive-green tufts of grasses, but the trappings of civilization had grown less and less as we drove. Half an hour back, I'd spotted a few tourist signs for the local sites, one billboard for the Gold Spike Mine and Ghost Town, and a cheesy concrete cowboy holding a gold lasso and offering to turn me into a real live cowpoke, but nothing since we turned off SR89 and headed into the Arizona wilderness.

  No sign of Daniel, or anyone else, following us.

  I hadn't decided if that was good or bad.

  We turned onto an even smaller road and Red slowed as it narrowed. It wasn't much more than a dirt path out here, and barely wide enough for the van. Large rocks scraped off the paint, but nobody even winced. Within minutes, we were moving at a crawl, lurching crazily from side to side over the ruts and rocks that passed for a trail.

  The van might look like an old clunker, but they'd installed some serious shocks to handle this kind of terrain.

  "I'm curious," I said to Kokabiel, gripping the seat with both hands. "What was Noah really like?"

  His opal eyes shifted and gazed at me over the top of his e-reader. "Self
-righteous."

  Rocky grunted without opening his eyes. Even odds it was a laugh.

  "Yeah, but I hear he really knew his way around a cubit."

  Kokabiel returned to his reading.

  "Possible to get some music?" I asked, a hard bump sending me half a foot off the seat. "Unless you've got a paperback tucked in there somewhere, too."

  "No signal," Red called from the front seat.

  "You must have a CD player. It's a van, it's got to at least have a cassette deck."

  "Eight-track." Red snorted. "It's like the stone ages up here."

  Rocky grumbled, but no trace of mirth this time. "She talks too much."

  "She does," murmured Kokabiel without looking up. "Perhaps you should silence her."

  I pantomimed zipping my lips shut. For beings who'd spent thousands of years among humans, they had little patience with one. Maybe we really were just children to them--better seen and not heard.

  The Arizona landscape wobbled by, jerking as the van swayed over the rocks. There wasn't much to see at this point, but there might be enough landmarks to find my way back if I escaped. Red rocks. Buttes. Juniper. More red rocks. The occasional half-rotted shed or crumbled old mining camp poked out of the scrub, but they'd long been abandoned.

  And ya know...red rocks.

  Maybe that's where Kokabiel had holed up--an old mining camp from the good old cowboy days, or an outlaw's hideout deep in the mountains. This whole area had been dotted with mines back in the day, dug by hopeful prospectors searching for gold, silver, and copper. When I was a kid, Dad had taken me all over the Southwest to mining sites off the regular path. There was a lot of wilderness to get lost in out here.

  And a lot of places to hide the bodies of those you didn't want found.

  Red hit every bump and hole between us and the lair, but eventually, we bounced to a shaky stop beside a huge chunk of rock the size of a two-story house. Kokabiel yanked open the door and popped out under cover of a camo-colored tent working as a carport. The sides were rolled up and the straps snapped in the cold breeze.

  "Out," Rocky said.

  I got out, sore and a bit bruised. Nothing but the same walls of red rock and scrub, though the rocks were less red out here and more tan and brown. I'd built a diorama in fifth grade that looked a lot like this, though my scrub had been made of moss I'd found near our apartment. "Where are we?"