The wooden bench creaked as he leaned toward her. With the back of his hand, he slowly moved her hair off her shoulder, causing long tendrils to cascade down her back, and intensifying the shivers the sweep of his hand caused. Whispering in her ear, his lips were almost close enough to feel. “Never.” His breathy response caused the shiver to run deliciously to her center.
“Never?” she asked, not daring to turn her head toward him. He still hadn’t moved away.
“No, Grace, never.”
At the mention of her name, she smiled. “Good.” She relaxed a little, settling a little more into the bench. “Why are you here?”
Darius mimicked her movements, making himself comfortable. “To see you.”
“What about Red?”
“Who?” He sounded genuinely confused.
“The tall, beautiful redhead I saw you with at Latté Da’s?”
Another magical chuckle rolled from his chest and bounced along the lake. “Oh, her. She’s a friend, more like a sister. No one you need to be worried about.”
Grace shrugged. “Okay.” Unlike in her normal life, here she didn’t worry about a thing.
Before long, the sun set completely behind the lake, the darkness deepening until a blanket of stars was revealed above them. Overflowing with an abundance of confidence, she shifted her body and leaned to face him. “Why did you come to see me?”
In his eyes, she saw all pretense fall away—the cool facade and aloofness gone. He was just himself. “Because I can’t shake you.”
“Do you use that line on all the girls?” She laughed quietly.
“Only on you,” he said softly, grabbing her hand. Not taking his eyes away from hers, he lifted her hand slowly to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles. The stroke of his lips sent a quiver up the length of her arm that caressed and burned simultaneously. If he tried to kiss her, she knew she would let him. She crossed her ankles, and smiled to herself, hoping he would try.
His eyes blazed brighter, and the color deepened. “I’ll see you soon.” The intensity of his stare seemed to burrow straight through to the center of her, touching the very essence of her being. It left Grace breathless. He lifted himself off the bench and slowly walked away without looking back. Suddenly she knew she was in trouble, even here. The kiss on her hand left her wanting more, and she trembled with equal parts longing and fear.
The torture she’d watched her mother go through when her father left was horrendous—beyond heart-breaking. Since the moment she met Darius, he was all consuming. All she could think of was him … still. Every fiber of her being sensed he could cause a great pain that could mirror her mother’s, and that frightened her more than anything. As she watched him disappear, she vowed to find a way to avoid him—even in her dreams.
Grace stirred, giving in to the relentless pull of reality, and opened her eyes. The flat screen was lit with that DVD bright blue; the movie was over. Wiping a bit of embarrassing drool from the corner of her mouth, she reflected on the dream she’d just had. It disturbed her, made her feel uneasy, so she pushed it from her mind.
By mid-afternoon, Quentin still hadn’t made an appearance, and Grace had chewed her nails to nubs waiting to talk to Emily. Laney had gone outside to check the mail and walked past the family room.
“Hey, Mom.”
Laney trotted backward a couple of steps, stopped in the middle of shuffling through the mail, and stood in the archway. “Yeah?”
“Would you be willing to get my cell phone for me? I need to check on Emily and Leah.”
“Sure,” she said. “Where is it?”
Grace tried to think back. She couldn’t recall where it was. “I don’t really know. You can try my purse, or the top of my nightstand.”
“If I can’t find it, I’ll bring you the house phone.”
“Okay.” Grace hoped she found it, because she couldn’t remember Emily’s cell number off the top of her head.
Laney came back minutes later, cell phone in hand. Grace took it from her, smiled, and gave her a quick thank-you.
She remembered Emily’s broken arm and decided not to text her. Grace listened while the phone rang on the other end.
“Hey, Grace,” she said, sounding tired.
“Hi, how are you feeling?” Instantly, tears snuck up on Grace. She blinked them fast away while trying to swallow the lump of guilt wedged in her throat. Both were nearly impossible.
“My arm’s killing me. The doctors can’t cast it until Monday. It’s too swollen. But hey, the pain meds they have me on are great.” The medicated laugh was a painful shot across the bow of Grace’s heart. “How are you?” Emily asked, slicing through her guilty thoughts.
“Feeling physically well at the moment. My body hurt and so did my head earlier. I’ve got a huge goose egg.” Grace rubbed the sensitive spot with her right hand, wincing from the sharp, cutting pain.
“It’s sad the guy who hit us last night died,” Emily said, suddenly sounding remorseful.
“What?” Grace jolted upright. Her lungs didn’t want to work. The air crushed out of her in a long, drawn-out breath. “How do you know that?” She choked on the words.
“My mom and I saw it on the news this morning. They still don’t even know who he is. Can you imagine—” But Grace couldn’t hear through the underwater effect the loud whooshing in her ears caused. A purplish haze covered her sight and she thought she might faint. Her world started to tip as the reality of last night knocked her sideways. The Fallen had intended for her to die, and had almost killed her friends in the process. “Grace? Hello?”
“I’m sorry. It’s awful he died.” Her words were robotic. Empty. A tear ran down her cheek, but it didn’t fall for him. The fact someone had died last night had her already frayed nerves threatening to break. “How’s Tommy? What about Leah, do you know?” Grace asked rapidly, teetering on the edge of hysteria.
“Tommy’s fine. He’s got a raging headache, but he’s good. Leah was kept in the hospital overnight for observation, but was released this morning. I haven’t talked to her, though. My mom’s been in contact with her mom and yours, if you can believe it. I was floored when my mom said Laney stayed home with you.”
You and me both, Grace thought. “Yeah, I was a bit surprised. I’m so glad everyone’s okay.” The Fallen being dead made her glad. The thought of more coming frightened her, but thinking about one of them coming after someone she loved to get to her, completely terrified her. “Do you think Leah’s mom would care if I called?”
“The worse that can happen is she says to call later.” Emily yawned loudly. “Sorry, even though I have painkillers, I can’t sleep. My arm’s throbbing.”
“I’m so sorry, Em.” Another sob choked Grace, making it nearly impossible to breathe again. Her lungs painfully sawed the air in and back out.
“It wasn’t your fault, Grace. Stuff happens.”
If she only knew. “Well, I’m going to let you go. It sounds like you need to try to sleep.”
“Yeah, okay,” Emily said, yawning again. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, Em.”
Staring at Emily’s picture on her cell phone, Grace let out a sob.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Quentin said softly as he came up behind her, touching her briefly on the shoulder before lowering himself to sit on the edge of the coffee table. He leaned toward her, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared into her eyes, his expression conveying his compassion.
Grace raised her tear-filled eyes. “It wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t in the car with them.” Tears spilled over her lower lids, blurring her view of Emily’s picture glowing from the cell phone she still gripped.
“Look at me.” Quentin lifted her face with a gentle finger. “It was my fault. It’s my job to keep you safe and I failed.”
She heard every word Quentin spoke, but couldn’t cling to them like he intended. Every one of her friends could have died—because of her, not him. Visions of ca
skets and grieving families had her pulse quickening. Worry festered in the center of her chest—circling and tearing at her until what rose forth was anger. With every beat of her heart, the anger pulsed stronger. No. In her head, she said it again. No. The word ricocheted like a war cry through her cerebral cortex until it owned her, heart and soul. Energy channeled through every inch of her body. A shiver chased behind it. Those she cared for and loved would not pay for what she was.
In that instant, Grace felt the power of her choice thunder through her like an electrical current. Just like Seth in the movie, she chose to be what she was meant to be, and not to shed what she originally thought was a burden. Newly determined, she leveled her gaze with Quentin’s.
“What do I need to do to make sure they never hurt anyone I love again?”
Quentin gazed back at her, his features rearranging themselves into an expression flat and cold—deadly. “You train and you fight back. You let me do my job. And we don’t let them win. Ever.”
Resolve steeled her voice. “We won’t.”
Quentin’s face lit up with his best smile. “That’s my girl.”
And like always with that smile, Grace couldn’t help but smile back.
News of the crash spread like wildfire through Woods Cross. By Sunday afternoon, Laney turned the ringer off the house phone and convinced Grace to do the same with her cell. She finally spoke with Leah and was relieved to hear she was fine, but like Grace, had one hell of a headache. Leah nattered on about how Brian had visited her bearing gifts—bringing magazines to read, snack foods, and movies. She smiled at the excitement in Leah’s voice; Brian was alright in her book.
Even though Grace was feeling better by Sunday evening, Quentin convinced her to stay home from school the next day, no matter how good she might feel when she woke up. Nephilim don’t get sick and they heal quickly. That certainly explained her lack of memories of ever being sick. It would raise a few eyebrows if she was completely healed and her friends were still banged up, so she stayed home.
Grabbing her book out of her backpack, Grace settled in her favorite comfy spot on the sofa and opened The Crucible. She was so done with chick flicks. Since it was inevitable she’d miss a day or two of school, Grace decided to read as much of the book as she could and forego the movies. Hopefully she’d then be ready if Miss Township decided to throw down another stupid pop quiz.
Grace was barely through a chapter when she heard the doorbell. Laney came barreling down the stairs, so Grace didn’t move. When the sound of padding feet came toward Grace, she looked up to see her mom standing in the archway.
“There’s a Zeke here to see you.” Laney’s eyebrows arched.
“Seriously?” Grace let out a little huff of exasperation, checking the time on her phone to see if school was already out.
“I can tell him you’re sleeping.”
Tempting, she thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to be mean and lie to him. There was no announcement in the school bulletin advertising she’d moved to her grandfather’s house, so Zeke had obviously gone out of his way to find her. “No, that’s okay. Let him in.”
When Zeke stood in the archway holding what looked like magazines, Grace prayed he hadn’t brought her the typical Teen Beat or Seventeen. She’d never liked reading any of that crap. She smiled, giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Silently, he gave her a once-over. “I was really worried you’d look awful.” His shoulders heaved with the air he let out. “But you look great, like you weren’t even in an accident. How are you feeling?”
Grace pulled her legs in, making room so he could sit at the other end of the sofa. She waited for him to sit down before answering. “I still feel like I’ve been run over, but I’m feeling better.”
“I’m so relieved.” Zeke nervously rolled the magazines in and out of a tube shape in his hands. “Oh, here. I got these for you. I didn’t take you for the kind of girl that reads tabloids, so I got you these instead.”
He handed her a crossword and Sudoku magazine. Two things she loved. “Thank you, I love these,” she said with a huge smile. “You didn’t have to get them, though.”
“I know, I just thought it’d give you something more to do than watch movies and homework.” He picked up the book that lay open in her lap. “Case in point.”
“But it’s a good read and it’s homework. Two birds, one stone.”
He chuckled to himself. “I’ll take your word for it.”
They talked for a while. No pressure, just friends. Grace learned he loved racing motorcycles and was secretly taking guitar lessons so he could someday play like Tommy. Tommy probably had no clue his best friend looked up to him. Grace thought it was sweet.
“What’s a pet peeve you have?” Zeke asked. “The one that drives you completely nuts.”
“Only one?” she asked with a laugh, not daring to tell him about the numbers. “The one that drives me absolutely insane is messed-up eyebrows.”
“What?” He chuckled.
“Yeah, it’s bad. If I’m talking to someone and their brows are all crazy, I can’t focus on anything but their eyebrows. I literally have to restrain myself from fixing them.” Zeke instantly swiped his fingers across his brows. They both laughed. “What’s yours?”
“I’m thinking mine’s a lot worse than yours.”
“Oh no, I gave you mine. Now, spill.”
Zeke’s attention went to his hands held together in his lap. “I can’t share bars of soap with anyone, because I can’t handle hair or fuzz…well, any kind of anything on it. It really grosses me out if I see it. I freak out.” He still didn’t look back up at Grace.
“So … you scream like a girl who sees a rat?”
“I wish,” he said, looking a little deflated. “I get the dry heaves really bad. I’ve even thrown up a couple of times.”
“Wow, that is bad.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“So what do you use then?” Grace tried to sound sensitive.
“I use watermelon body wash.”
Grace pulled her lips in between her teeth to keep from laughing. Despite the fruity scent, his solution didn’t make it sound so bad. When she was certain she wouldn’t laugh, she said, “At least you found a way to deal with it. I’m doomed. I’ve contemplated carrying around tweezers and an eyebrow brush, but I don’t think that’ll work.”
At that, they had another good laugh. Minutes later, Zeke stood. “I need to get home. I have homework. Give me a call if you need anything.” She agreed, and listened as he closed the front door behind him.
Quentin finally came in after dinner. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good. I still have a little goose egg.” Tentatively going over the sensitive spot with the tips of her fingers, she grimaced from the pain. “It still hurts.”
“You’ll be a hundred percent in the morning.”
“We’ll see,” Grace said.
“You feel well enough to go on a tour?”
“A tour? Where?”
“Here. I have something I’d like to show you,” he said.
“Um, okay.” She rose from the sofa and followed him out of the family room.
Quentin paused, turning back to her. “Go get Pandora and bring her with you.”
Grace’s eyebrows rose in question, but he remained quiet. “Okay, be right back.” She hurried as fast as her painful body would allow her up the stairs, grabbed Pandora from under her bed, and met Quentin back in the foyer.
They walked down the large, open hallway lined with oil paintings of her ancestors and family photos toward her grandfather’s office. “Quentin, were any of these men Chosen?” Grace asked, pausing to peer up at the faces.
Quentin turned around and stood by Grace’s side. “They all were.”
“All of them?”
“Every single one.”
Quietly, she scanned the faces of the twenty-five men who had come before her and her grandfather. She wondered about the liv
es they’d led, if they’d found solace in marriage, and if they were happy with the responsibility forced on them. “Did any of them marry?” Grace asked.
“They all did. You and Christophe would never have been born if they hadn’t.”
She hadn’t thought about it like that. “Do you think they were scared?”
“Oh yeah, they were.” A smile touched his lips.
Watching him, she regarded his smile. “You talk as if you knew some of them.”
Quentin turned to her. “I knew all of them.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” she asked with an uncomfortable chuckle. “You’d be like, seriously old.”
His mouth turned up in a smile that reached his eyes. “I am seriously old.” Turning back around, he continued toward the study.
Like a barking Chihuahua nipping at his heels, Grace fired continuous questions his way. “Really? How old are you, Quentin? You don’t look that old.” Before he could get any closer to the office, she briefly touched his arm and stopped walking. “Seriously, how old are you?”
His shoulders reflexively rose as he breathed in deeply, before turning toward her. “I’ve been here since before man.”
Confused, she cocked her head sideways. “What does that mean?”
Quentin’s gaze met hers. His right hand rubbed at the edge of his shirtsleeve. “It means, I’ve been around since time began.”
Grace’s eyes bugged. “But you don’t even look older than twenty-three. How is that possible?”
Quentin ran a hand through his hair, holding on to the back of his neck. “Because I don’t age.” She was about to ask another question, but then he sighed, which stopped her. “Come on, Grace.”
Thoughts of more questions seized when they came to the office door. She’d only been in her grandfather’s office once since his passing. It had been unbelievably tough. Since then, she’d had no intention of ever returning. “Do we really need to go in there?” she asked softly, clutching the backpack to her chest.
With key in hand, Quentin swiveled around to face Grace. “I’m sorry you’re still hurting. One thing I’ve learned in my old age…” His face lit up with a joking smile meant to lift her spirits. Something she appreciated about him. “Time eases all pain. You’ll never forget him, or how much you loved him, but you’ll welcome his memory instead of shy away from the pain of it.”
Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) Page 17