Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace)

by K Anne Raines

  “You don’t know anything.” He grabbed her by the arms, and she made the mistake of wrapping her fingers around his forearms to steady herself. Sucking in her breath, Grace was bombarded by his feelings. Despite how long he’d been on this Earth, she was his beginning, she sensed. And like all beginnings, nothing else for him would begin or end if she wasn’t a part of it. He wanted her every beginning, and her every ending. She could see this as clear as day with her hands. Every emotion held in his heart was only for Grace.

  Grace dropped her hands. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “Quentin,” she whispered.

  “Damn it, Grace. This is me. These are my emotions, not yours.”

  Why hadn’t she felt any of this before? How did he hide it from her? And how in the heck did he know she feared feeling her own emotions reflected in him? This can’t be happening, she thought, shaking her head. Confused, she gazed down at her open, helpless hands. “How’d you know about my hands?”

  “Because I know you…all of you. I’m sorry, Grace. I thought it would be best if I hid how I felt from you. I figured if we kept things between us strictly Chosen and Guardian that it would be easier, but I was wrong.” His hands squeezed her arms a little tighter. “God, I was so wrong. Every time you kiss him I feel it, and it’s gut-wrenching. A piece of my heart breaks with every piece of yours you give away. Every day you’re with him is like a dagger to my soul.” Quentin swallowed and stared down at her with glistening eyes. “I kept my feelings from you, I know that, but please give me a chance to make it right.” She was speechless, and a few more tears left warm trails down her face. “Let me be the one to fall for you. You are worth falling for.”

  Grace’s head spun. I’m worth falling for? What does that mean? She couldn’t handle any more. Too much stuff was thrown at her today, she couldn’t process any of it, and now he was making it harder. Pushing away from him, she shook her head. “I can’t do this right now, Quentin. I need to think and I can’t do that with you touching me.”

  Quentin took a step back, quickly pushing his hands in his pockets. “I understand you need time.”

  Shaking her head again, sadness constricted her chest. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t trust you. Every time I turn around, I find out you’ve lied to me, and the reason for it is justified in your mind. Not to mention the last couple of months…” Unable to finish her sentence without full-on sobbing, she blinked back more tears.

  “I know, and I’m sorry, Grace. Please.” He took a step toward her, reaching with a hand.

  Grace threw her palm up. “Stop, Quentin. Just leave me alone for a while.” Without another word, she hurried out of the kitchen, and bounded up the stairs.

  “He’s Fallen, Grace.”

  She froze on the staircase as the dreaded word not only echoed through the foyer, it ricocheted painfully against the confines of her heart and mind. Her throat went dry, desiccating the words she wanted to yell back at him. She turned and searched his face, looking for some glimmer of hope that when he had said “Fallen” he meant fallen in love. But from the warning in the eyes that stared back at her, she knew he meant literally. He meant Fallen as in…her enemy. She was wrong. He managed to say something that hurt worse than basically calling her a slut.

  Shaking her head, it didn’t make sense. “Why would he help protect me then? Why didn’t he just ki—h-hurt me?”

  “Because he’s a liar. That’s what he does, he deceives.”

  The pain of what he said made it hard to breathe. Every breath she took in felt like knives going down, slicing away pieces of her on the way back up. She couldn’t move. With one hand, she grabbed the railing for support, and held on to her chest with the other. The drumming from her painfully contracting heart thumped against her palm. Small flashes of light bounced around the edges of her sight. Her mouth fell open as she tried sucking in large gulps of air, and concentrated on not passing out. Not to mention trying to come to grips with what Quentin just dumped on her. She bit back the tears threatening to fall again. She wouldn’t give Quentin the satisfaction.

  The sound of soft footsteps coming up the steps had her jerking her head to peer over her shoulder. Quentin didn’t come up any further. Quickly, she whirled all the way around. “See, Quentin, more lies. You’re a liar too.”

  “But I couldn’t tell you.” He brought both hands up in the air, his eyes were full of grief.

  Dropping her arm to her side, she felt defeated. He didn’t get it. “And there’s the justification.”

  Grace’s phone taunted her from the nightstand, almost daring her to text him. How could it be true? She didn’t—no, she couldn’t believe it. Why would Darius lie, pretend—toy with her heart?

  “Because, he’s a liar. That’s what he does, he deceives.” Quentin’s earlier words kept rattling around in her head. The warm milk would be no help; she wouldn’t get any sleep tonight—possibly not for a while.

  As Grace lay there, trying to will her mind to numb, she felt the fractures of her heart splintering. Grace liked Darius, quite a lot, actually. She was dumb enough to think she might actually be able to have something normal with him, no matter how brief. Right, the joke was on her. He was anything but normal. How could she be so stupid?

  It felt like everyone around her did nothing but lie to her … Quentin more than any of them. He and Darius were cut from the same cloth. It made her sick. The sob Grace held deep down bubbled to the surface. She couldn’t hold on to it any longer. It hurt way too much. She rolled to her side, pushed her face hard into the pillow to muffle any sounds, and screamed her pain and frustration. She screamed until her throat was scratchy and raw. By the time she stopped, her pillow was sopping wet from her tears.

  Grace no longer trusted anyone. She was completely and utterly alone—again. The last time she had looked at the clock, it was 3:05 a.m. School was going to be beyond rough. Right now would probably be a good time to rethink going back to school at all. That too was something that hurt too much to do.

  The buzzing of her alarm clock didn’t serve as a wakeup call that day. It was a reminder of how many hours she’d lain sleepless under the covers. Brutally, she slammed her hand against the top of the clock to make it stop screaming at her, but then reached for the button and simply turned it off. She wouldn’t be going to school today.

  All through the night, every single moment from the time her grandfather had died until now replayed over and over in her mind. It was one huge puzzle she kept trying to piece together. But no matter how she might fit the pieces or force them together, it always came back to the same thing.

  She was a fool.

  People say time heals all wounds. She highly doubted the saying could apply to her this time. How does anyone ever get past being lied to over and over again? Especially by the ones who are supposed to protect you.

  The good news, if she could even call it that, was that she was all cried out. Yay. She’d cried so long and so hard, her eyes were almost swollen shut. Licking her dry, chapped lips, she tasted salt from her tears.

  Gritty sand scratched against her eyes as she opened them to slits to judge the distance from her bed to the bathroom. It was just as far away as the last time she looked. Right now, she wouldn’t be opposed to a bed pan. But since she didn’t have one, the only thing getting her out of bed was the promise of water for her throat and eyes.

  In front of the bathroom mirror, Grace rested her palms against the countertop. The person staring back at her was unrecognizable, which only made her want to cry more. She was thankful she didn’t have it in her to do it. Grace hoped that by the time she could cry again, she wouldn’t feel the need anymore.

  Every muscle in her body hurt. Her feet dragged heavily along the floor, her body barely strong enough to carry her back to bed. Curling in on herself, Grace covered her head with the blanket.

  There was a first time for everything. Grace had always been so protective of the Shelby, and of course Amanda had asked nonstop to dri
ve it. But when Grace told her through her locked bedroom door that morning to take it, she no longer sounded so excited. When Amanda got past her shock and finally relented, Grace breathed a sigh of relief. It took too much energy to convince Amanda to take it. If Amanda hadn’t taken the keys when she had, Grace probably would have ripped her bedroom door open and pushed her down the stairs.

  Grace shut her bedroom door and fumbled back to bed. Swimming in and out of consciousness, she let sleep take her. She barely came to when her mom lightly tapped on her door. It was a little harder convincing Laney to let her sleep, but she too left Grace alone, believing she was sick. And she was out like a light again.

  When she finally came to again, opening her eyes didn’t hurt as bad as earlier. The painful grittiness was gone. Reaching for her phone, she pulled it close to her face. Her eyes might not have hurt as bad, but her sight was blurry. It was a little after three and she had several texts, all from Darius.

  Darius: Can’t w8 2 c u.

  Darius: Can’t stop thinking of u.

  A cry hitched in her throat, and tears pricked like sharp needles at her eyes. It was a sick game to him. To Grace, it had never felt like one. She didn’t know how she did it, but she forced both back down. Apparently, she could cry again.

  Darius: How was school?

  Darius: C u in a couple of hrs.

  There were so many things she wanted to text back, but knew there was no use. He was what he was, and she was what she was. There was no changing that. Some things couldn’t be helped.

  Grace: Sorry I didn’t text bak earlier. Im home sick. Can’t c u l8r.

  As she expected, he responded right back.

  Darius: O im sorry. I can bring u sum soup or sumthing.

  The gesture pulled at her insides, a painful ache from wanting him to rush on over. She hated herself for letting him get to her—both before and now.

  Grace: Mom took care of all that. U don’t want this. Ill call u when im better.

  Darius: K. Hope ur better soon. Let me kno if u need anything.

  Grace: K.

  Reflexively, she squeezed the phone in the palm of her hand, and held it over her head. She nearly threw it. Darius wasn’t worth her tears and anger, and neither was Quentin. Determined to get some answers, Grace threw her legs over the side of the bed and stormed out of her room.

  Not caring about still being in her nightgown or not having brushed her teeth yet, she stormed through the house in search of Quentin. She didn’t care what he couldn’t tell her. He would tell her everything she wanted to know, or she was never going to talk to him again—ever.

  “Quentin!” Grace shouted through his closed bedroom door. Her knuckles were red and sore from banging so hard. “Open up!” Either he’s chicken, she thought, or he isn’t in there. Grace went with the latter assumption and took off down the stairs. Running from room to room, her feet slapped loudly against the wood floor. “Quentin!”

  A warm breeze lifted the edges of her nightgown when the front door swung open. Instantly, Grace bristled and twirled to the door. A wide-eyed Amanda stood in the foyer, gawking at her. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m trying to find Quentin,” she said, walking past Amanda.

  “Okaaay, um … I’ll just be in my room.”

  The loud thumping of Amanda’s shoes against the wood steps followed Grace as she speed-walked down the hall to the office. Grace took in a steady breath, and pushed through the unlocked door. The linen closet door was ajar. She knew where he was. Pressing the door release, she pushed through the entry as soon as there was enough room for her to fit. She ran so fast down the passageway, the angel torches couldn’t keep up with her. Each one lit after she ran by. It didn’t matter. She knew her way by heart now.

  When she reached the gym door, she body-slammed into it. The door wildly swung open, hitting the wall behind it with a piercing smack. Grace’s ears rang as she stepped through the doorway. Quentin stood in the middle of the gym floor, unfazed. He obviously was expecting her.

  “We need to talk,” she said through pursed lips.

  The fight left Quentin. His shoulders were relaxed, and his eyes gentle. He regarded her for a minute, and Grace wondered what he was waiting for. “I know,” he replied softly.

  Grace took a couple of steps forward, making sure there was enough distance to keep him from touching her. She needed to get it all off her chest without the confusion. “I want answers, and I’m not leaving until I get them,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Quentin’s shoulders sagged as he sighed, then twisted at the waist and tossed his towel over the top rope of the ring. “Okay.” What? His willingness had her stumbling over the questions she had originally formed in her head. Her arms unfolded and hung loosely at her sides.

  Quentin grabbed a mat and pitched it on the floor. He pointed to it. “Sit. I won’t touch you. I promise.” Grace observed him for a few breaths, then padded softly to the mat and sat. Quentin sat on the concrete facing her. “What do you want to know?”

  All the questions she came prepared to ask ran wildly through her mind. She picked the first one that stilled long enough for her to grab it. “Well, for starters, why are there so many things you say you can’t tell me?”

  A long few minutes ticked by as he remained silent. She doubted he was going to answer anything. Grace gave up, the fight left her too. She slapped her hands on the map, pulling herself on her knees, and started to get up. “Forget it.”

  In a flash, he was before her on his knees as well. “No, wait!” Grace jerked away from him, thinking he was going to touch her. His palms went up between them. “I’ll tell you, it’s just difficult.”

  “Why?” she snapped at him.

  He nodded to the mat. She put her hands on her hips and eyed him suspiciously. Slowly she sat back down, not taking her eyes from his hands. Quentin moved back to his spot, resting his forearm on his raised knee, and she sat back a little easier. “Do you remember when I told you about the closed-door meeting the Watchers had?” Grace nodded. “One of the rules set in place was that the Guardians couldn’t tell the Nephilim who the Fallen were, and the Nephilim wouldn’t be able to sense them. The only way a Guardian can intervene is if a Fallen is trying to physically hurt the Nephilim they’re protecting.”

  “Broken hearts don’t count as a physical hurt?” Grace asked tersely. She watched Quentin wince. “Didn’t think so.” She looked away.

  “Grace,” Quentin said softly.

  “What? You’re a guy, you just don’t get it.”

  Quentin cocked an eyebrow, and bent his head slightly. “Do you want me to explain how I do get it, or do you want to talk about your questions?”

  Resisting the other sharp retorts fighting to come out, she shook her head. “I have other things I want to talk about.” A sudden thought sent an uneasy tingle running through her. “Is Darius going to hurt me, is that why you told me?”

  He focused on a spot on the ground. “No.”

  “No, he’s not going to hurt me, or no, that’s not why you told me?”

  The sound of his slight chuckle was absent of humor. It chilled Grace to the bone. “That’s not why I told you.” His eyes found hers and held them. “But he’s not here to physically hurt you either.”

  Chilled even more, she wrapped her arms around her middle. Partly to hold the remaining warmth in, and partly to hold herself together. She could feel herself unraveling. “Then why?” The irony of her question wasn’t lost on her, since all that ran through her mind lately was why. So many why’s, she was getting dizzy.

  Quentin’s arm dropped from his knee and he tore his gaze away from hers. “You were right. I should have told you. I do have a choice, and I’ve made it now.”

  “You told me he was Fallen and you weren’t supposed to?” she asked softly. Still not looking at her, he nodded. “What does that mean?”

  Quentin clenched his jaw, his hands at his sides squeezed into tight fists, whiten
ing his knuckles. “What it means is the council can strip me of my guardianship and cast me out.” Cast him out? Of what? Suddenly, she understood the gravity of what he’d just done. He cracked open a secret’s door, and it was too late to close it back up.

  “You only told me Darius was Fallen. Isn’t that protecting me?” Quentin cared for her, deeply, and she’d forced him to answer a question he tried to tell her he couldn’t. Ashamed, she turned her face away and wiped the tears she was unaware had fallen. “You hardly said anything. I don’t get it.”

  His voice gentled. “Rules are rules, Grace. Breaking one is just as bad as breaking them all.”

  She turned her eyes back to his, and tried to stop the tears. Her lip quivered as she pushed words out of her mouth. “What’s going to happen now?” Grace was afraid of the answer, but she had to know.

  His stare pierced her with resolve. “Now I wait.”

  Frantic, her nerves sparked. Her crossed legs bounced against the ground, and her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. If the council decided to cast him out, it would be because of her. Desperate, she blurted the first thing that came to her. “Let me talk to them!”

  Quentin’s eyebrows pulled up and quickly settled into a scowl. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you, Grace.”

  “Like hell it doesn’t,” she spat angrily. “This is all my fault.”

  A tenderness washed over his features and a smile lifted one side of his mouth. “If I didn’t want to tell you anything, I wouldn’t have. Like I said, you’re worth it.”

  Pools of tears collected in her eyes again. Before Darius, she had wanted him to fall for her, but not like this. “You’ll fall.” It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. Understanding of his earlier statement settled painfully on her consciousness.