She turned back around in her seat, crossing her arms. Now she hated both of them.
At the house, Quentin slammed the car in park. “Go inside,” he growled, as he stayed by the car. Before she could get through the front door, the V-Max skidded to a stop a few feet away from her, and her heart nearly dropped to her stomach. Relief washed over her as Darius got off the bike, completely unscathed. She couldn’t keep the smile from her lips, or the tears from welling in her eyes.
Recklessly, Darius threw his helmet on the ground. His focus was only on Grace as he headed toward her. She held on to the door handle, intending to rush inside, but Quentin stepped in his path. They squared off nose-to-nose, saying something to each other, but of course she couldn’t hear it. Darius held up one hand between them, and moved from side to side to see around Quentin, trying to get Grace’s attention. “Grace, just talk to me.” He didn’t sound horror-film scary. He sounded like himself. Her heart revived itself from the near fall and hiccupped.
Pissed at her heart, but more angry at him, Grace released the door handle, swiveled around, and glared at Darius. “Why should I? You lied to me. You never told me what you are.”
“I know, angel, and I’m sorry.” Darius’ brows pulled up, and his mouth pulled down in a frown, matching the plea in his voice.
“Don’t talk to her,” Quentin grounded out, shifting slightly to block Darius from Grace’s sight again.
“Or what?” Darius challenged.
“Just keep talking to her, and you’ll find out,” Quentin threatened. “Grace, go inside!” he shouted over his shoulder.
Darius tried to sidestep him, but Quentin stepped in his way again. “Man, you better get out of my way.” Darius put his hands on his hips and slightly chuckled as he stared at the pavement.
“I told you last time, I’m not going to let you hurt her,” Quentin snarled, poking Darius’ chest with a finger.
Darius finally quit trying to get around him. Grace gasped when he brought his face up, because his eyes were glowing red. He turned them on Quentin. “And like I told you last time. I’m not going to play nice. Now, don’t make me embarrass you in front of her.” Darius jerked his head in Grace’s direction. The calm and even tone of what he said made it sound eerily threatening. “Now move!” The boom of Darius’ baritone voice jolted a shock through Grace’s system, thundering so loudly it rattled the front door in its frame. It scared the holy living crap out of her.
The guys stood nose to nose, both breathing heavily, bodies shaking. Without thinking, she lurched forward, forcing herself between them, and pushed a hand against their chests. Beneath her hands, she felt their tense muscles relax. Both sets of eyes tore from one another, and settled on her. The sharp-as-steel gaze of Quentin’s softened, and the red glow of Darius’ disappeared.
She dropped her hands away, but maintained eye contact with Quentin. “Let me talk to him.”
“Grace, I—” Quentin interjected.
“Quentin, please.”
Grace watched Darius as Quentin made his way toward the house. He mumbled his disapproval all the way to the front door. “Fine, but I’m staying right here.”
She nodded her head. “Fine.”
If she stared any longer at Darius, she knew she’d drown. So, she cut her gaze away, focusing past him before she was swallowed up in the sea green of his eyes. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She hated that he had any kind of an effect on her at all. Continuously, she reminded herself he wasn’t a normal man, and lies were his way of life. After all, he was a deceiver. Grace swallowed and counted to ten in her head. Both sad and angry, she couldn’t formulate the right words for what she wanted to say. But whatever it was, it needed to be something that would get him to leave her alone. For good.
Darius forced his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”
That’s it? I’m sorry? His pathetic attempt at an apology ticked her off more. “You don’t get to apologize.” Even though he just did, didn’t matter. She wouldn’t accept it. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying.
“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He kept his hands in his pockets, not moving to touch her.
Resolved, Grace squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “You said you’re sorry, now leave. I never want to see you again.” She managed to keep the emotion out of her voice, but it threatened to make an appearance in her eyes, so she turned away. Walking away was harder than she thought it was going to be. Then he gently touched her arm, and it was near impossible. That one soft touch almost broke her resolve. Her heart stretched almost out of her chest leaning toward him. It hurt clear to her toes.
Grace begged her feet to continue moving the few feet left to the door, so she’d be safe behind the barricade of the manor. She didn’t want to face him, because if she did, her anger would implode and she’d forgive him.
Just as she was about to turn back around, Quentin pulled Darius’ hand off her, freeing her to run for safety. But the heat of his touch seared through the cotton of her shirt, even standing under the veranda. Minutes ticked by, and she could still feel it. Numb, she twisted the handle and walked through the door. Somewhere behind her were the remains of her shattered heart.
The grunting and scuffling started before Grace even got the door closed. She ignored them, left them to beat each other to a bloody pulp if that’s what they needed to do. What she needed was a break … from them, and life. Life surely wasn’t going to leave her alone. She prayed that they would.
A couple of hours passed before Grace’s stomach finally settled enough to eat. She wandered through the house and found Amanda watching television in the family room. “Are you hungry?” Grace asked.
Amanda glanced up at her and smiled. “Starving.”
“I’m making myself a sandwich. Do you want one?”
“Sure, thanks,” Amanda said, and went back to her show.
Grace slapped together a couple of sandwiches, threw some chips on a plate, and headed back into the family room with dinner. She put the plates on the coffee table before sitting on the edge of the couch next to Amanda.
Amanda shot her a grateful smile before snagging one of the sandwiches. “Yum,” she murmured, one of her cheeks full of sandwich.
Quietly, the girls ate their dinner. Noticing the time, Grace changed the channel from whatever show Amanda considered entertainment to Grimm. Amanda whined, went for the remote, then paused mid-complaint to see what Grace had selected. “Oh, I love this show.”
“I know, right?” Grace focused on the television, pondering whether there was anything to the show. A few months ago, she didn’t know about the existence of angels and demons, and now she wouldn’t be surprised if there were Grimms and werewolves. It was both mind-blowing and scary as hell.
Quentin made an appearance close to the end of the show. He didn’t actually appear, per se. It was more like whizzing past the family room in a blur. The condition of his face didn’t go unnoticed by either Grace or Amanda. “Uh,” Amanda said. “What happened to his face?”
Grace hadn’t seen Quentin since she’d left him and Darius outside. But she knew what happened. She got a sick satisfaction from seeing the split in his lip and swollen right eye. She visualized Darius sporting something of the same, and shrugged. “No clue.”
Call it a sixth sense, premonition, omen—whatever—Grace knew she needed to listen to it. Restless and unable to sleep again, she threw the blankets back and got up. Quietly, she tiptoed down the stairs, and snuck into the office. The foreboding tingled along the back of her neck, raising the tiny hairs on her arms.
Pandora’s tiny voice murmured in her head. Slowly, she made her way down the passageway, making sure to give the angel torch sconces time to light her way. She reached for the crevices with a finger out of habit, tracing the lines all the way down the walkway like she always did. Apprehensive about going into the gym right away, she pressed her ear against the door, and released t
he breath she was holding. A gnawing in the pit of her gut told her this sneaky rendezvous needed to be covert. Which meant no Guardian.
Grace walked on tiptoe and entered the hidden living room. The light was on above the stove, making her wonder if Quentin was down here, or if the light was always on. She didn’t move; she listened. After a few too many minutes of holding her breath and listening, she was pretty certain no one was there.
Grace went through the usual security steps to get into Pandora’s room, and as usual, she stood apprehensively on this side of the laser-beam walk. She really needed to put in a request to change this part of security. Summoning all of her Chosen speed, she was next to Pandora in a blink. Placing a hand on the glass case, Grace strained to listen. She kept hearing, “Out, now. Bag.” But she didn’t really hear it. It was all in her head. And it was completely … creepy.
She pushed the release button, and the Plexiglas case slid down into the stand below. Grace hadn’t touched Pandora since she’d brought her here, and didn’t know what to expect now.
Out, now. Bag.
Okay. Grace picked up the unusual container carefully and inspected it for a moment. Holding Pandora was no different than the first time. Well, except now there was nothing popping at her from the face of the vase. Grace eyed the end of the hall, and then Pandora. She took a deep breath, wrapped her arms securely around the vase, and ran almost as fast as she could to the safety of the walk-in closet. Totally relieved, she gaped at the case at the opposite end of the hall, exhaled, then leaned over on one leg and pushed the release button.
Grace made sure the door was securely shut before retrieving the backpack her grandfather had left her. She had a feeling it was the bag Pandora referred to. Once Pandora was zipped inside, Grace could have sworn she heard her sigh. Shaking her head, Grace slipped the backpack’s strap over her shoulder and walked back to the passageway. From the cracked open office door, she peeked out into the hallway and heard nothing. All was quiet.
Silently, Grace made it back to her room. She dropped the backpack from her shoulder and placed it next to her school bag, and instantly felt the anxiety leave her limbs. She crawled back into bed, unable to stop yawning. As her body settled into the mattress, she felt like she could sleep now for the first time without issue.
Finally.
“What the hell?” Quentin felt lightheaded, as if someone had slipped him a roofie, even though he knew that wasn’t possible. He twisted his body, looking for threats in every direction through the black-tinted windows of his car. Not seeing anything that should concern him, he settled down and ignored the sensation, resuming his surveillance of Grace’s school. It wasn’t until the wavy transparent lines danced before his vision that he knew.
He was being summoned.
“Christ … now?” Frantically, he reached for his phone. He had to warn Grace he was going to be gone, and didn’t know when he’d be back. She needed to go home—now. The phone fell through his grip. It was too late. “No!” He slammed his fist into the steering wheel, but his sudden lack of solid form caused the fuzzy image of his fist to go right through it.
A sense of calm washed over him as his vision went hazy, and every molecule in his body scattered. A second later he was standing on the marble floor of the Consulate. Once the home of the Watchers, now the Consulate was lodging for the Tribunal, hovering between heaven and earth.
“Hello, Quentin,” a female voice purred behind him. Wincing, he spun around. Her voice raked painfully over his eardrums. She might as well have jabbed a pencil in his ear canal; it would have been an equally agonizing welcome. “It’s great to see you,” she continued, and waited expectantly for him to respond.
He focused his gaze on the point of her heels, and felt for his blade at his waist. His shoulders sagged. Since no weapons were allowed here, he was left to his own devices. Quentin glared at her as he responded reproachfully, “Wish I could say the same.” Once upon a time, he had cared for this woman. All that had changed the day he realized she wasn’t who she pretended to be.
His blade hand fisted as he dropped it away from his side. Quentin quickly assessed his surroundings. Now he was pissed. If she had anything to do with this, he’d personally send her on the next train for hell. Pinning her with the fury of his glare, he tried to calm himself. “Why am I here, Chloe?” Quentin watched as her lips pressed into a hard line.
She stood at her full height, throwing her shoulders back. “Oh, don’t play innocent. Not this time.” She started walking away, but he stayed planted where he was. With a hand on her hip, she glanced back at him. “Coming? The Tribunal’s waiting.”
As he followed, he couldn’t help but notice the way her dress hugged all of her feminine curves. Angel. Quentin let out a cynical chuckle. “Yeah, right,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Excuse me?” Chloe said, whipping around, blonde hair flying around her head like a Chinese star.
“Nothing. Can we get this over with?”
“Fine.” She trotted even faster.
She was lucky he didn’t have his blade with him.
The same odd, prickling sensation crept along Grace’s skin while she sat in class. She couldn’t shake it. Several times, she had to struggle to stay in her seat. In her gut, she knew something was coming. She could feel it in her bones. All she wanted to do was grab Pandora and run. The only thing keeping her in her seat now was Pandora’s insistence on not being pulled from the trunk this morning. No. Outside the back of her car, that’s all Grace heard. No.
Not one for being told what to do, it took every ounce of strength she had to walk in the school, and not defiantly to the trunk of her car. She knew the school was devoid of other Guardian and Nephilim; those she would be able to feel, and they were nowhere around. What she could feel was more like an impending doom cloud that loomed over her, following, waiting. If the danger she sensed was from the presence of Fallen, she wouldn’t be able to sense them. That’s what worried her most. Several times she glanced at her phone, wondering if she should text Quentin to make sure everything was okay. If something was wrong, Quentin would let her know, and he hadn’t. It was a struggle, but Grace pushed her worries aside and put her phone away, turning her attention to infinite limits—the calculus lesson for today.
After class, Grace met up with Amanda at her locker. “Hungry?” Amanda asked, looping her arm through Grace’s.
“I can eat a little.”
Amanda gave her a sideways glance. “What’s up with you lately? You’re hardly eating, you’re always stressed, and the circles under your eyes tell me you’re not sleeping too well either.”
Amanda was very … observant. “I’m fine.” What else could she say?
Amanda stopped walking, and pulled Grace around so she was facing her. “Like hell you are, but whatever. We all have our demons.”
If she only knew. Grace made sure to look her in the eye. Lies were more believable when someone’s not looking away. “I’m fine, honest.” Amanda’s mouth open and closed a couple of times, but then she clamped it shut. She seemed to have gotten the hint.
Everyone around Grace seemed to be in an extra good mood, and extra loud. It was driving her nuts. She was in hyper-aware mode and every loud noise had the hair on her arms standing on end. The angst was giving her a nervous twitch. Her food went severely neglected, again.
The rest of her day was like that. Someone dropped a book from their desk in fifth period, and Grace almost had a coronary. Not because of the loud noise, but because she instantly thought Danger! and nearly went all Chosen krav maga on the student. Grace played it off as trying to be helpful by picking up the book, but she wasn’t so sure he bought it. Blowing her hair away from her forehead, she sat back in her seat.
The end of sixth period couldn’t get there fast enough. Bouncing from foot to foot, Grace waited for Amanda at their lockers. “Hey.” Grace’s body sagged as soon as she saw her. She had to get Pandora somewhere other than here.
&n
bsp; “Hey. Guess what?” Amanda said with a slight grin. “I got an interview for a job at Robintino’s. It’s in a half hour.”
“That’s great!” They needed to hurry this conversation and leave, because Grace’s skin was beginning to crawl.
“So,” Amanda said. “I’m going to walk to my interview and I’ll walk home when I’m done.”
“No!” Grace said quickly, grabbing Amanda’s arm. She took a deep breath, looked at her hand, and let go. “Just take my car. I can get a ride with Quentin again.”
Amanda’s eyebrows scrunched up in question. “Are you sure? I feel bad taking your car so much lately.”
“I’m sure,” she said, as she pulled the keys from her pocket and held them out to Amanda. Grace didn’t want her walking. Not today.
“Okay.” Amanda took the keys from Grace’s outstretched hand.
“I’ll see ya when I get home. I have something I have to take care of.”
When Grace reached for the door handle leading to the school parking lot, the foreboding was stronger than ever. On the other side of this door, something bad was waiting for her. Casting her gaze upward, she said another prayer. As ready as she’d ever be, she sucked in a breath and walked out.
Outside, the sun was blinding. She held up a hand to shield her eyes and immediately searched around. There were no Shadow Hounds, and no freaky guys dressed in black. Nothing. She sucked in the warm air, and let it out easy. Grace found Quentin’s car parked in its usual spot. She was still mad at him, but knowing nothing was wrong made her smile as she headed toward his car. Students piled into the bus parked at the curb, clearing the area in front of it. Unfortunately, the freaking bus wasn’t the only thing parked there.
Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) Page 31