A little voice in my head says that Mr. Griffith probably knows what he’s talking about. He is in charge, after all.
Well, screw that. If I’d left things up to the powers that be, I never would have saved Grace from Cam. I love Grace and I will not sit back and watch her family be torn apart just because I was told to.
I’ve never been good at playing by the rules.
Chapter 7
Grace
Of all the wonders in Heaven, the gates are my favorite. First of all, the greeters exude calm, and I could use a serious dose right now. Second, this is the one place you can find anonymity in a busy crowd.
Plus, standing on clouds? How cool is that?
Tommy Two’s had a great time, greeting a boy who arrived frightened and crying. Now the two of them sit in the swirling mist, alternating between playing and cuddling.
“I believe we’ve found TT’s calling,” Shona says in her crisp British accent. She’s leaning against one of the tall spires of the gates. She pushes her glasses up on her nose and winks.
“Wish I felt that certain about my place,” I say. “I mean, I want to help people, but I can’t stop worrying about the people that mean something to me already. Is that selfish?”
Shona rolls her eyes and tosses her long, dark hair over one shoulder. “Did you really just ask me if caring about your family is selfish?”
I smile. Shona always manages to lighten my mood. “Why do you still wear glasses?” I blurt out. “Can’t you get rid of them up here?”
She grins. “I guess I could, but like most souls, I like being me. I don’t want to lose who I was before. Plus, they make me look smarter, don’t you think?” She pushes them up and straightens, sticking her nose in the air.
I laugh again. “Of course.”
“Grace, shouldn’t you be getting back soon? Usually you can’t wait to run back to Josh after barely an hour. It’s been more like four.” Shona pushes off the gates and steps closer.
“It’s a little weird right now,” I say. I told her about our almost-fight, but I haven’t admitted what I saw on the screen. I feel like if I say it, I’ll sound petty. I should trust him.
“Everyone has arguments—even in Heaven,” she says, squeezing my arm. She’s taller than I am, so I have to look up to meet her gaze. On the surface, she isn’t that much older than me. She was a sophomore at Cambridge when she died from anaphylactic shock while on spring break in Naples. She won’t tell me what year, though, which makes me suspect that she’s much older than she looks.
“I saw him with another girl.” I blurt out. I quickly tell her about the image in the window. Once the words are out I sigh and scoop up Tommy Two, who’s left the now-much-happier boy with his greeter.
Shona taps her lips with a finger. “I cannot imagine that Josh would cheat on you. And with a human? That’s silly. There’s no future in it and Michael would flip if he thought Josh was using a human for his own needs.”
“Michael?”
“Griffith.” Shona’s lips stretch into a grin. “He doesn’t use his first name often. It’s too recognizable for those who have some religious background.”
So Mr. Griffith is the Michael—Michael, the biblical Angel of Death, if I remember correctly. I guess that makes sense, but it feels a little weird. I file that information away for later. “Josh must be getting a head start with the possible souls. He probably wants to take on as much as he can himself because he knows what a tough time I’m having.”
Shona squeezes my hand. “It’s the only thing that makes sense from what I know of you two. But if it bothers you, you should ask him. Don’t let things build up inside of you, Grace. That’s a surefire recipe for disaster. Trust me. I’ve been there.”
I’m about to ask what happened, but as though she senses what’s coming, Shona ends our conversation by motioning over a short, balding greeter with a kind face.
“Now, back to business.”
*
When Josh walks through the door, I can see how stressed he is, every muscle in his body tensed. Now I feel terrible for even entertaining the thought that he might be cheating on me. He’s clearly been working with a potential soul. I can’t let him do our job alone because I’m preoccupied. It isn’t right. I’m supposed to be the one guiding him.
“So, you found the soul already?” I ask.
He blinks, staring at me like he’s shocked to find me here. Poor guy. I motion him over to the leather sofa and pull him back into the seat, kneading at the knots in his shoulders.
“What soul?” he asks.
I pause before continuing his massage. “I saw you with that cute girl,” I whisper in his ear, “in the mirror thingy. You shouldn’t have approached her without me, you know.” I’m trying to be nonchalant, but Shona’s right, I need to talk to him openly.
“You aren’t jealous, are you?” he asks, humor in his voice.
He’s turned away from me, but I can’t hold back my smile when I picture the impish grin on his face and the twinkle in his eyes. I hug his neck and rest my chin on his soft, black curls, relaxing. Time to tease him back. “Well that would be silly. Why would you look elsewhere when you have me?”
He reaches up and grasps my hand with his. “I’m glad you didn’t jump to conclusions, because I love you, Grace Howard.”
I let him pull me over the back of the sofa and onto the couch so that my head is in his lap and he’s looking down at me. Best view ever. And I love the way he smooths my hair, letting my curls spring back into place with each long stroke.
“We need to regroup and come up with a plan together,” I say.
The stroking stops. “No, I’ve got this one. There are other souls to check out. You should pick one of those.”
I sit up and laugh a little, out of nerves because it isn’t very funny. Why keep me away from her if he’s not trying to hide something? “Why did you engage her if you weren’t already sure she’s the One? We’re supposed to do recon and figure it out by observing, not interacting. Mr. Griffith specifically said—”
“He told me it was okay,” Josh interrupts, rubbing at his forehead.
“When? I wasn’t gone for more than two minutes and you were already with her, drinking coffees.” I recall with a sudden pang our own first date in Michigan and how we’d walked through the fall leaves, talking and sharing coffees. Get it together, Grace, I tell myself. He can’t be cheating.
“Before all that. When Mr. G and I played pool while you were with your family. I just forgot to tell you, that’s all. No big deal.”
No big deal? That’s kind of important information to forget to tell me.
I take a deep breath. “Look, Josh, I’m sorry I haven’t been as mentally present as I should lately. But I’m here now and I want to work with you. So let’s go ahead and take a look at some souls. Together.” I climb on my knees and throw my arms around his neck, trying to ignore the feeling that he’s still keeping things from me. Even if it’s totally innocent, which I’m sure it is, he could screw up and we’d both be in trouble.
“Okay,” he says, touching his nose to mine. “But let’s do it in the morning. I’m wiped.”
“I’ll conjure pizza…” I nuzzle his nose.
“Tell you what,” he says, drawing me onto his lap. “Let’s look at one soul and then take a break to unwind.” He kisses me deeply.
I’m distracted by the bliss of his lips on mine, but I manage to break away and say, “Two souls and it’s a deal.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” He presses me close and kisses me again. This time I let myself fall under his spell as he runs his hands up my back and tangles them in my hair. I take a sharp breath as he works his mouth down into the crook of my neck and teases the skin with his teeth. His other hand wanders downward and slides to the front of my robes, but I stop it.
“A break. After the two souls,” I say through heavy breaths. But I hope I don’t find myself in this position again tonight. It’s getting harder a
nd harder to turn him down without letting things out that I don’t want hanging between us.
One frustrated groan later and we’re staring at the swirling colors beneath the surface of the screen again, Josh’s arm tight around me.
I draw a deep breath before starting. I can’t let myself get distracted this time. But before I can speak, Josh does.
“Show us another soul in danger of becoming the Antichrist.” Josh’s eyes turn icy blue in the reflection as the screen’s colors zigzag wildly. Another moment and they settle on the image of a boy.
I gasp. “He can’t be more than eight.”
The child drags a broken stick behind him through the hard dirt of an empty lot. The background is filled with dilapidated structures with barred windows and mesh over doors. Remnants of dirty snow and half-dissolved leaves trim the dirt lot, punctuated by litter and an occasional weed that was too stubborn to die off during the winter.
It’s such a sad sight. “Where is he?” I ask.
“I don’t know. But I don’t want to live there.” Josh tightens his hold around me, probably sensing I’d like to jump through the screen and scoop the poor child into my arms.
A sharp laugh startles me and I notice—as does the boy—three guys leaning on a weathered fence. They’re all wearing low-riding jeans and worn sneakers, each one holding a cigarette. The boy approaches them and their conversation grows louder, though I can’t tell what they’re saying other than cussing every other word.
“Jon, you gonna come home for dinner?” the kid asks one of the boys.
Jon glances over his shoulder in the middle of a laugh and takes a last drag off the butt before flicking the remnants at the kid.
The kid jerks backward, but snarls up at Jon in response, who grabs the kid’s head in the crook of his arm, shoves off his baseball cap, and rubs his close-shaved head with his knuckles. It might be sweet if it weren’t for the kid’s grunts of protest and pain as the older boy’s knuckles force deep, pale lines into the dark skin of his scalp.
“Lemme go, jackass!”
“This is horrible,” I say, snuggling closer to Josh.
“I feel bad for Jon,” Josh says, softly.
“What? How could you?” I peel my eyes away from the screen where the big boys are now back in a tight circle and the kid is sitting on the ground near his stick, rubbing his sore head, forgotten.
“If this kid is a potential Antichrist, then that boy better watch it. He might be target number one.” Josh points and I look back to the picture.
The kid’s scooped up the stick and edged closer to the group of boys again. Aiming the jagged tip of the stick at Jon’s leg, he thrusts forward. Jon lets out a shriek, grasping his shin, where blood spurts out of a hole in his jeans. The other two burst into more hysterical laughter.
“You little shit! I’m gonna skin your ass for that!” He grabs for the boy, who sidesteps and kicks him hard in the back of the knee before taking off through the nearest yard.
“Turn it off,” I say, sickened by the whole thing. The screen obliges.
“You sure you still want to do two?” Josh asks into my hair.
I nod, because I need a minute to gather myself together. “Show us another possible Antichrist.” I’m hoping for the girl I saw with Josh earlier.
The screen swirls with color, settling on a girl of about twelve alone at the corner table of what appears to be a library. She’s pretty, with long, brown hair and a willowy frame. Her eyes, though… They’re two different colors. One is a nice shade of golden-brown while the other is an eerie, translucent gray. The color contrast makes the gray eye seem larger on her face. It’s more than a color difference, though. It’s as though the gray eye isn’t in sync with the rest of her.
I shudder.
“Well, she’s certainly got the creep factor going for her,” Josh says.
I elbow him lightly. “That’s mean. She can’t help being different.”
Josh clears his throat, “That’s more than just some deformity. It’s looking right at us.”
One glance at the screen shows me that while the girl intently reads her book, her strange eye has wandered up and trained itself on us.
“She can’t see us,” I say.
“Then why are you whispering?” Josh asks.
“It just feels that way, but maybe that eye is blind or something. Maybe she has no muscle control, and from this angle…” My voice trails off.
On screen, a book falls off a nearby shelf, thudding against the carpet. The girl’s eye steadily shifts to the left, toward the sound, then back again to us moments later.
“Pizza time?” Josh asks, his voice higher than normal.
“I think that’s enough work for one night,” I agree, and will the screen back off.
Chapter 8
Keira
Wow. I’ll spend the day watching Noah Howard anytime, especially when it involves no shirt. Washboard abs shine with sweat beneath the lights in the gym as he dribbles the ball to the other side of the court. Unfortunately, I’m not in love with the sound of all the shoes thumping and squeaking, or the smell that comes from a group of adolescent boys playing basketball. So, being the amazing problem solver that I am, I slip in a pair of ear buds and pump up the volume before climbing several rows higher on the bleachers.
It’s time to catch his eye.
I lift one leg up on the bench next to me, giving him a nice, unladylike view of what I’m offering. The moment he glances my way, I throw him my best come-hither look and he nearly trips with the ball.
Still got it, Keira.
It’s easy to picture what I’d like to do with him later; not so easy to figure out how to bring up what he’s been doing hanging out with Lucifer. Guess I’ll blow up that bridge when I come to it, or whatever.
The second the game is over, I drop off the bottom step of the bleachers right in front of Noah. His homeboys close in, ready to make a move, but I step into his personal space and hook my arm through his, feeling his bicep.
“Nice game,” I coo.
“Thanks.” He looks older than sixteen at first glance because of his Adonis body and light, golden stubble, but close up I still see the baby face hiding underneath.
“I could use some pointers.” I roll the ball out of his hand and into my free one.
The others are making the obnoxious noises that stupid teenage boys make when confronted with hints of sexuality. I ignore them and train my sights on Pretty Boy.
Imagine Josh asking me to get close to his precious Grace’s baby brother. Well, that’s not technically what he asked, but it’s the easiest way to get the information he wants. It’s like I’ve been given permission to play with him. Not that I need permission…
“Like right now?” Noah asks.
“Sure, but not here,” I say, tugging him toward the exit. “I want private lessons.”
“Maybe I should shower first,” he says, glancing toward the locker room.
“Why? You’re just going to get sweaty again by the time I’m done with you.” I press closer into his side and watch him swallow.
Two of his friends bump him on the other side. “Don’t forget we have an appointment at six o’clock,” one says. I think he’s trying to be intimidating, but he’s shorter and skinnier than Pretty Boy.
“I’ll be sure to finish with him by then,” I say sweetly.
The other one licks his lips suggestively, showing off a pierced tongue. I stare right in his eyes and compel him to scratch his ass every time he makes a pass at a girl from now on. That should take him down a notch.
Latching on to Noah’s arm, I guide him outside and away from all the annoyances. He pulls back after a minute and narrows his honey-colored eyes. “Where are we going?”
I giggle. “Do you care? Isn’t it enough that I’m taking you there?” I adjust my stance to show off some extra cleavage while I flutter my lashes.
“It’s not that I’m not interested,” he says, putting his hands
over my arms. “It’s just not every day a strange, beautiful girl lures me outside with the promise of sex.”
“Who promised anything?” I ask, slightly offended. “That’s going to depend on your behavior. You can start by following me.”
He purses his deliciously full lips and nods while crossing his arms. In a matter of minutes I’ve navigated Noah into my Corvette and started up the engine. Time to take this boy somewhere private and have some fun getting information out of him.
“So,” he says, “let’s start again. I’m Noah.”
“I know,” I say.
“Oh. Uh, do I know you?”
“Not yet,” I say, sliding a hand onto his knee.
“There you are, Keira!” Lucifer appears in the back and leans forward until his head is between us.
Shit.
Noah’s head snaps back and forth to each of us, his eyes bulging in a rather unattractive way. “You know each other? But—”
“Keira works for me,” Lucifer says, laying a hand on my shoulder. His palm feels like ice—ice so cold it burns. My pulse speeds up in response.
“Oh.” Noah, leans back into the seat, defeated. He probably figures I wasn’t really into him—not quite true.
“Glad you’re getting to know each other. You might be working together in the near future.” Lucifer squeezes tighter.
“Working together?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light.
“That’s if Noah here has decided he wants to do business.” Lucifer leans back against the leather seat, releasing me for the moment. I resist the urge to rub my frostbitten skin.
I keep my mouth shut and drive.
“When I said I’d sell my soul to the Devil if my parents would forget about my sister, I was venting. I had no idea you’d actually come.” Noah says, rolling his head away from us, toward the window, where I can see his reflection. He looks miserable.
So that’s what this is about. He doesn’t want his parents to suffer anymore over Gracie’s death. Ugh. If only they knew how disgustingly happy she is in Heaven.
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