Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace)

by K Anne Raines

  As Quentin turned the key and opened the door, Grace was stricken with the threatening prick of tears but managed to blink them away. Her feet felt glued to the floor in the open doorway; she couldn’t move…didn’t want to move. She wanted to be anywhere else in the house other than here. Her gaze roamed over the desk and the shelves behind it, the couch she’d laid on talking about her day while her grandfather worked, and finally rested on the fireplace he’d loved so much. God, she missed him.

  Quentin stood patiently in the bathroom doorway, hands braced on either side of the frame, leaning into the office.

  “Okay, I’m here. What do you need to show me?”

  He let his hands fall to his sides, and nodded his head. “In here.”

  Grace stayed where she was, crossing her arms over her chest. “The bathroom?”

  He held his hand out to her. “Trust me.”

  It took everything she had, but she managed to force her heavy feet forward, stopping a few inches outside the bathroom door. Grace eyed his hand, but didn’t touch it. Quentin let it fall back to his side, obviously realizing she wouldn’t take it. An emotion flickered across his features, but disappeared quickly. Grace wondered if she imagined it since it was there one second and gone a nanosecond later.

  Curiously, she watched Quentin open the door to the linen closet, then slide aside the towels resting on the shelves inside. She heard a click, felt a draft of cold air, and stared wide-eyed as the shelves swung backward and he walked through the dark opening that appeared.

  “Come,” he said. She was surprised to hear his voice echo.

  Scrambling, her feet moved fast to catch up. Once inside, the door closed behind them and sealed shut. Unable to see, she didn’t move. “Quentin?” Her voice sounded hushed in the velvet darkness. “Where are you? I can’t see.”

  Lights on either side of the narrow hallway clicked on in domino fashion, two by two, revealing Quentin several yards away, rounding the bend of the hallway that stretched before her. “Come on, Grace.” His demand echoed and swirled about her. Again, she forced her feet forward, and almost fell down the flight of stairs she didn’t realize was there. She breathed a sigh of relief, glancing down at the bag in her hand. It would be her luck to be the first Chosen to break what she was supposed to protect.

  Before her foot even stepped off the bottom step, her head had begun to swivel back and forth as she took in the ornate gold sconces set in recesses in the intricate stone walls. When she looked closer, she realized that the sconces were formed like angels. Her eyes widened in wonder. Like a kid in a candy store, she wanted to caress every angel, tuck a finger in every crevice, run her hand across each flat surface. In the back of her mind, she knew she should be angry. This was another huge secret. But she had never seen anything like this, and was flabbergasted that it had been here all along…right under her nose.

  Once she rounded the corner, two hallways branched off the main corridor, left and right. She wouldn’t have known if she should go left, right, or continue forward if Quentin hadn’t been patiently waiting next to a door straight ahead. Settling next to Quentin against the wall, Grace smiled.

  “Pretty great, isn’t it?”

  “Great?” she repeated in amazement. “Try un-freakin’-believable.” Quentin’s laughter echoed and bounced from side to side against the walls, swirling around the angels as it traveled away from them. Grace smiled. “Where do the other hallways go?”

  With his foot, he pushed off the wall, turning his body so he was standing in front of her. “One way leads to the linen closet of your old house. The other leads to the back of an apartment I own downtown.”

  “Really?” Her jaw dropped and she stared at him wide-eyed. “This is under my house too?”

  Quentin used the key that opened all the rooms in the house. “Yes, this is under the other house too.”

  “But how?” she asked in frozen wonderment.

  He turned and rested his shoulder against the door frame, staring deeply into her eyes. Even in the dim light, Grace could see the instant his gaze switched from playful to intense. Down there in the closed confines of the underground, it became more than just a stare. It seemed like the stare sucked the air right out of the hallway, because she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Her heart rate spiked simultaneously, making it that much harder to gasp for the depleted oxygen quietly. Grace took a step backward and her shoulder blades pressed into the wall. She held the bag against her chest, hoping to seem at ease, even though his gaze made her want to squirm.

  Slowly, Quentin folded his arms over his chest as well and crossed one foot over the other, never taking his eyes from hers. A devilish grin turned the edges of his mouth up like horns, and she couldn’t take it anymore. “What?”

  “Nothing,” he replied, turning his head and smirking at the wall. When he pushed himself away from the door frame, the hole-boring intensity was gone. “Relax.” Right, she sighed mentally.

  The seneschal band peeked out from the bottom of his sleeve, and Grace glared at it. She was beginning to dislike it. She didn’t like him knowing how she was feeling—always—while she was left guessing about what was going on inside him. Unless, of course, she touched him. And after what had just happened, touching in any way would be asking for trouble. She had to work on setting up those boundaries between them, and soon.

  Quentin disappeared through the doorway, talking as he went. “Your grandfather designed all of this down here and had it constructed. The hallway extends beneath all the houses on Belmont for a few blocks to your other house—” Still caught up in the intensity from a minute earlier, Grace remained leaning against the wall. “Hey, you alright?” Quentin asked as he leaned out into the hallway from the door.

  “Uh yeah, sorry.” She shook her head. “What were you saying?” Grace waited for her heart rate to stabilize and then followed Quentin through the door. Again, he was unfazed and she was a ball of nerves. He continued as if nothing had just happened. “If you go in the other direction, the hallway continues underneath all of the houses heading west to my apartment, which is across the street from the bank.”

  She noticed another door , but wasn’t sure what the rest of the room was. Quentin unlocked the other door and stepped aside so she could enter first. Inside was a large, fully furnished living room awash in artificial light. There was a small kitchen, and a bar.

  Grace stood in the middle of the room, pondering the point of everything down there. “What’s through there?” She pointed at a door.

  “A bedroom and bathroom. Come.”

  The bedroom was the size of a jail cell, and the bathroom was about as comfortable-looking as a port-a-potty. To the left of the bedroom door was another door.

  Quentin opened it and motioned for her to follow. It was a walk-in closet, a large walk-in closet—way bigger than the bedroom and bath. Clothes hung on hangers along the left and right sides of the wall. Shelves and drawers were strategically placed in columns throughout.

  “This is the most important room of the entire estate.” His face was serious.

  “The closet,” she asked incredulously. “Why?”

  “This,” he said. Walking to the far back wall, Quentin separated two shelves, revealing a steel door behind it. “Give me your hand.”

  Trying to avoid skin-to-skin contact with Quentin, she stayed put. “I’m okay to walk through myself.”

  “Unless you give me your hand, neither one of us will be walking through this door.”

  Grace braced herself for the onslaught of emotion, held her breath, and raised her arm toward him. Thrown a little off balance by the not-so-gentle tug of her wrist, her eyes narrowed into a glare. “What are you doing, Quentin?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted her arm and pressed her hand flat against a rectangular-shaped frame. Instantly the space within lit up in neon green, scanning her hand repeatedly from top to bottom. Mesmerized, she watched the light move up and down. Quentin slowly pulled her hand away,
curling her hand into a fist except for her index finger.

  “You’re going to feel a little poke.”

  Before she could pull away, he stuck her finger in a rounded divot next to the scanning frame. “Ouch!” Damn it, needle pokes were the worst.

  Chuckling, he gave her a sheepish grin. “Ah, poor baby. You going to be okay?” he teased.

  “Ha ha.” She frowned and jabbed her finger in her mouth.

  “I’m sorry, don’t be mad. Some people have a deadly fear of needles and I wasn’t sure if you’re one of them.”

  She grunted and gave him a sarcastic grin around the finger in her mouth.

  Still smiling, he turned back around, pointing to a small rectangular piece of rubber on the left side of the frame. “I promise this won’t hurt. Place your forehead against the strip here.”

  “What’s it going to do?” Grace frowned, not entirely sure she could trust him to determine what hurt and what didn’t.

  “A retina scan. It’s cool, just trust me.”

  Oh sure, easy for him to say. Knowing she might regret it, Grace stepped forward and pressed her forehead against the strip like he instructed.

  “Don’t move and keep both eyes open.”

  Very easy for him to say. When the red laser burst out of nowhere, the impulse to close her eyes fought against her will to keep them open. She pushed through it, not closing them. When the scan was done, she jumped back, startled by the sound of the unlocking mechanism. Gears clicked and turned, and a noise that sounded like steel bars sliding through the floor and ceiling met her ears before doors opened with a hiss.

  Blue light spilled out from the opening. As she crossed the threshold, she had the uncanny sensation that she’d walked inside a live video game. Lined up along the floor of the long walkway were squares that lit up a slightly brighter blue as she stepped on each one. At the end of the hall was an open square room. A clear case sat empty in the middle, lit up by a bright white light shining down from above. Grace expected Quentin to be behind her, and was surprised to see that he still stood in the doorway of the closet.

  “What are you doing?” she called out to him.

  “Waiting for you to be out of the way.” With one foot, he stepped on the first square. Red laser beams shot out in spinning arcs from one end of the hall to the other, searching him out like an intruder. When he removed his foot, the laser beams disappeared. Quentin still stood in the doorway.

  Confused, and too scared to walk back toward him, she shouted again. “Why can’t we walk down the hall now?”

  Quentin shook his head. “I can’t, not without you. No one can.”

  “Why not?” Despite her lowered voice, her question bounced along the floor and walls until it reached him.

  “Because this is Pandora’s room and you’re her protector. No one can be more than five feet away from you in here, or zap,” he said, making a Broadway spectacle of his fingers.

  It was all so strange. She almost felt cool, like a superhero. Coming to her senses, she shook off the ridiculous superhero notion. “That’s all well and good, Quentin, but what if the laser doesn’t recognize me and I get toasted?”

  “You’re not going to get toasted.” Quentin bit his lip and turned his face away.

  “Yeah, right,” she muttered to herself. Despite how quietly she said it, he still heard.

  “This room knows you all the way down to a cellular level now. Believe me, you’ll be fine.”

  Grace didn’t bother testing his assurance by putting a measly toe on the ground and waiting for the laser beams. No, she decided, it was all or nothing. She booked it as fast as she could, leaping like a dancer through the doorway when she reached the end where Quentin stood waiting. Surprised by how incredibly fast she didn’t know she could run, she was even more relieved she wasn’t fried to a crisp. “Well, look at that. You were right,” she said with a wobbly smile, looking up into Quentin’s face.

  Quentin walked away from her, leaving the walk-in closet. “Come on.” With a wave of his hand, he returned her smile. “Let me show you the gym.”

  What Grace hadn’t seen when she walked in from the hallway was the state-of-the-art gym. Every kind of cardio machine imaginable ran the length of an entire wall. Free weights, Nautilus machines, and kettle bells were spread around the room. In the center was a boxing ring where, Quentin informed her, they’d train. When he noticed her apprehension, he said they wouldn’t start until next week and used the accident as the excuse why. She figured it was because she was the first girl he had to train. Either way, the delay worked for her.

  Quentin walked through the laser security guards, to show Grace how to secure Pandora in the case. No matter what he’d said, she couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when they both cleared the closet doorway without sizzling like bacon on the hallway floor behind them.

  By the time she had finished with her guided tour and put Pandora to bed, it was slightly after eleven. Laney had left soon after Zeke arrived earlier, and hadn’t returned home yet. A tingle of fear crept along Grace’s skin and over her scalp. What if something happened to her mom? What if they got her? Oh God, she screamed in her head.

  Fear crushed her ribcage, making it hard to breathe. Full of panic, she ran to the family room for her cell phone, fumbling over the touch screen buttons as she texted Laney.

  Grace: Its l8. R u ok?

  In her head, she visualized every bad thing that could have happened to her mother. When the phone vibrated in her hand, she nearly dropped it.

  Mom: I’m fine. Out w/a friend. Be home soon.

  The painful squeeze let go of her ribcage so she could breathe again. Her mom was fine, but she couldn’t shake the unease that filled her. Laney had been disappearing a lot the last couple of weeks, and had been sketchy with her explanations. Maybe it was time for Grace to ask more questions.

  Tuesday morning, Grace was given the okay to return to school. And Quentin was right, she did feel a hundred percent better. He coached her on walking a little slower so she looked more like her recovering friends. Emily had been fitted with a cast the day before and would be returning to school today as well. Grace figured her safe bet would be to copy Em.

  She parked closer to the school than usual, assuming that’s what she would have done if she’d really been hurt, then slowly made her way to first period. Amanda was already in her seat, a first. Seeing her reminded Grace she’d meant to call and check on her over the weekend. So much for mental notes.

  “How are you doing?” Amanda asked, twisting her long hair around her finger, not waiting for Grace to sit down.

  “I’m fine, still a little sore.” A lie. Grace flinched inside; she hated lying. “How are you? I was kind of worried about you.”

  The strong lines of Amanda’s face hardened. “Why would you be worried about me?”

  “After what happened last week in the hall, and then you were gone for a couple days after…I wasn’t sure if something happened.”

  Amanda narrowed her eyes to slits. “With Mr. Peters?” She turned her head, obviously annoyed. “I told you that was nothing.”

  Grace didn’t correct her. It absolutely was something. “Okay.”

  “Do you really want to know where I was?” Amanda asked with a sudden excitement alight in her light blue eyes.

  “Sure.” Grace shrugged a single shoulder.

  Amanda’s irritated sneer returned. “Try not to sound so enthused.” Grace sighed and left it alone; Amanda was seriously PMS’ing.

  “You have to keep it to yourself, though,” Amanda continued. “You can’t even tell Emily, Grace, I mean it.”

  Grace forced a hand up, placing the other over her heart.

  “I met someone, and we went away for the weekend.” Amanda’s words were fast and clipped.

  “Someone who took you somewhere for a couple of days? Does he have really cool parents or something?”

  Amanda leaned over in her seat to get closer. Grace glanced at the cl
ock above the door. Amanda better hurry, she thought, because Miss Township will be walking in the classroom any minute.

  “He’s older. He was supposed to be on a business trip, but we spent a few days together instead.”

  “How much older?” Grace asked, now suspicious.

  “Older.”

  Grace flattened her palms against the top of her desk and leaned toward Amanda. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. How old is he, and what do you mean he was supposed to be on a business trip?”

  Amanda’s eyes were guarded as she stared at Grace in contemplation. “Don’t judge me.” She held up a finger in warning and Grace bit her lip. “He’s thirty-two, and his wife thought he was on a business trip.”

  “Thirty-two?” Grace screeched so loud, it almost couldn’t be considered a whisper. “Amanda!”

  “Sshh!”

  “What are you thinking?” she hissed. “He’s thirty-two, he’s married, for crying out loud, and technically old enough to be your father.”

  “Come on, Grace,” Amanda said, closing her eyes briefly and nodding her head slowly like a disappointed adult chiding a child.

  “You know how many fourteen-year-old mothers and fathers there are?”

  Amanda rolled her eyes, and responded with a “Pfft.”

  Abruptly, Grace twisted in her seat facing the front of the class, pretending to give Miss Township her attention. “This isn’t over,” she threatened from the corner of her mouth.

  As soon as the bell rang, it was over for Amanda. She bolted out of her seat and out of class. Grace caught a glimpse of her standing at her locker. “Amanda,” Grace shouted, trying to get her attention before she took off in the other direction. “Wait up.”