Grace and Glory

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

  I don’t know what woke me, but something did. Disorientated, I sat up. It was still dark outside and the room was softly lit by the Constellation of Zayne. Wishing my eyes would get on board, I looked around the room.

  A series of tingles erupted between my shoulder blades, erasing the lingering haze of sleep.

  A demon was nearby.

  Had Cayman returned? I doubted that as I shoved the blanket off and stood. The borrowed shirt slid past my hips and thighs as I reached for my daggers—

  Dammit, they were still in the bathroom. I hurried in there, snatching them off the counter. I made my way into the living room. The overhead light in the kitchen had been left on, courtesy of Cayman, and I could see that no one was in the apartment. The feeling remained, though, buzzing between my shoulders. Was there a demon in a nearby apartment?

  And where in the Hell was Peanut?

  I started toward the door when I heard it—a clicking, scratching sound against glass. Slowly, I turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows. I could see nothing but darkness and distant, smudged light, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something scratching at the windows.

  “Oh, man,” I muttered, creeping forward. Considering we were pretty high up in the apartment building, I knew there wasn’t, like, a rather harmless, fluffy animal out there.

  Grip tightening on the iron daggers, I passed the couch and my steps slowed. There was definitely something out there—the shadows were thicker. The eerie clicking came again, followed by the sound of something sharp digging against the thick glass.

  I stopped in front of the window, squinting as I leaned forward, pressing my face against the cool—

  Coal-red eyes set above flattened, fur-covered nostrils stared back at me.

  I yelped, jumping back from the window. Suddenly I knew why it seemed like the shadows were moving. It was wings I’d been seeing, and there was definitely something furry outside the windows.

  “Imps,” I muttered, sighing heavily. The last time I’d seen them, they’d been sent by the Harbinger. Which meant if they were here now, Gabriel knew where I was.

  Not exactly surprising, but scary.

  And annoying.

  Because I really just wanted to sleep, talk to the Crone and fix my slightly psychotic boyfriend. Was that too much to ask? Maybe if I just ignored the imp it would go away.

  The imp slammed a clawed fist into the window, rattling the entire pane.

  I guessed not.

  The damn thing was going to crack the window, possibly even shatter it, and that was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

  Sighing, I turned from the window. The imp hit the glass again. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you. You want to play. We’ll play.”

  Barefoot, half-undressed and not even caring, I entered the elevator and hit the code for the rooftop. Hoping no one else was up there, I was relieved to find that it sounded empty as the doors quietly slid open.

  I’d never been up here before, but I remembered Zayne saying once that it was designed as a green space for tenants. Solar string lights glimmered softly, strung from tall poles connected to white canopies stretched across large swaths of the rooftop. There was a pool somewhere if the scent of chlorine was any indication. Goose bumps pimpled my skin as I carefully navigated the deck chairs and round tables. Could be my eyes, but I sure didn’t seen any “green” spaces as I prowled across the rooftop. A chilly breeze caught the canopies as I neared the glass plane that prevented people from toppling off the roof.

  Tapping the iron dagger off the glass, I called out, “I’m up here waiting. Please hurry. I’m tired and cranky.”

  Silence, and then a low-pitched shriek reached my ears. Stepping back from the glass wall, I took a deep breath. There was barely enough light from the solar and moonlight for me to see, but it was manageable. I’d dealt with worse conditions before with far less training.

  A second later, a dark shape swept up from the side of the building and over the glass wall. It landed on two clawed feet a foot or so from me, and for a moment, I really wished I hadn’t been able to see the imp.

  The thing must’ve fallen down a demon tree and hit every ugly branch on the way down. It looked like a giant, walking bat as it lifted nearly translucent wings and screeched.

  I slammed the iron dagger deep into its chest. “Dumbass,” I muttered as the demon went up in flames.

  Imps were notoriously violent and their claws were quite toxic to humans and Wardens, but they weren’t exactly known for their intelligence, as just proven.

  Yawning, I pivoted and started back toward the door, dreams of the soft, Zayne-scented pillow occupying my thoughts. I made it two steps when a shadow dropped out of the sky, landing on the roof with a hard thump, and then another and another—

  Seven imps stood in front of me, their bodies hunched. Maybe eight.

  I skidded to a stop, my eyes widening as one of them hissed. Imps never traveled alone. I’d forgotten. “I’m the dumbass,” I whispered, backing up as my grace throbbed inside me.

  One of them lurched forward, and I hit the floor of the roof. Its outstretched arm swept over my head, and I popped up, shoving the dagger into its back. Heat blew back at me as I whirled, jabbing the dagger into the chest of another.

  Flames erupted as a wing cut through the air, slamming into my side, and knocked me sideways. I tripped over a lounge chair that seriously came out of nowhere, landing in...plush grass.

  Oh, hey, I found the green space.

  I sprang up, scanning the shadowy rooftop, and spun around, heart thumping as I looked for any sign of the imps. There had to be five or six left. I wasn’t sure. Counting was hard.

  A blur of matted fur and red appeared in front of me. The imp was too close. I jumped back, grabbing the lounge chair that had just attacked me. Picking it up, I threw it at the imp.

  The imp squeaked when the metal chair smacked it in the face. I stopped, never hearing a sound like that come from an imp before. “You sound like a dog toy. It’s kind of cute.”

  Swiping the chair aside, it charged me.

  I danced to the side, catching the demon in the throat with the dagger. The scent of sulfur choked me as I hobbled over the remains of the chair. “You don’t smell cute, though.” I gagged. “Or look cute at all—”

  Talons gripped the back of my shirt, and a heartbeat later, I was in the air, high above the roof and rapidly climbing. The way-too-large shirt lifted as the imp flew over the roof. I began to slip out of the shirt. Panic exploded. What undies did I grab? Oh God, it was the pair that had Hump Day plastered across the ass. I was going to fall out of this damn shirt to my death and be found splattered on the sidewalk in undies that said Wednesday and it was Sunday.

  People were gonna think I’d been wearing these for days. The medical examiner was going to be horrified.

  I could not let that happen.

  Still over the roof, I swept the daggers in a high, wide arc and sliced them through the imp’s arms.

  The imp shrieked as hot, wet blood sprayed the top of my head, and then I was falling, and fast. A wicked sense of déjà vu hit me, but this time there was no Protector to save me. This fall wouldn’t kill me, but it was going to hurt bad, like a whole lot of broken bones kind of hurt, and I just got done healing.

  At least, I didn’t think this fall would kill me. My heart stuttered as I braced myself for pain—

  An arm snagged me around the waist, stopping my free fall so suddenly the air was punched out of my lungs. I was a yo-yo, jerked up so fast that my entire body spasmed. My hands opened and the daggers slipped free, falling to the roof as my back connected with a hard chest that was colder than the air.

  Wintermint surrounded me.

  Heart thudding fast and heavily, I turned my head, catching the sight of plump white feathers streaked with gold cutting through the air.


  Zayne had caught me.

  Where he’d come from or why he was here didn’t matter. He caught me, just like he had before, and that was further evidence he was still in there.

  “You saved me,” I gasped. “Again.”

  “Did I?”

  “Obviously,” I forced out, barely able to breathe through the gust of the cold wind as I looked over my shoulder.

  Vivid blue eyes lit by grace met mine. “Huh.”

  I started to frown. “What does ‘huh’ mean?”

  He veered to the left, out of the path of an imp. “It means this.”

  Zayne let go.

  He dropped me.

  10

  Zayne actually dropped me.

  I was too stunned to even scream as I plummeted. There was a shriek as the dark shape of an imp shot toward me, and wouldn’t that be some shit if a damn imp saved my life.

  Zayne caught the imp midair—

  The shock of water seized my lungs as it reached up and swallowed me, dragging me down. Chlorine burned my eyes and nose.

  I found the stupid pool.

  Sinking to the floor of the pool like a bag of rocks, a red-hot fury whipped through me, igniting my grace. The corners of my vision turned white as I planted my feet on the bottom of the pool and kicked off. I swam upward, propelled by pure, unfettered rage. I broke the surface, dragging in mouthfuls of air as I shouted, “Asshole!”

  The answering chuckle set me off further. I might have had an anger-induced blackout, because I didn’t even know how I made it to the deck of the pool. Water coursed off me as I splashed forward, the shirt clinging to some very unmentionable places. Heat rippled down my arm, followed by swirling white fire. Grace exploded from my hand, spitting flames as my fingers curled around the heated handle forming against my palm. The sword was heavy but inherently familiar.

  An imp dropped out of the sky, landing in front of me. It opened its mouth.

  “Shut up,” I snarled as I sliced the Sword of Michael through the demon, my attention solely focused on the golden-white wings ahead.

  Someone was about to lose some pretty feathers.

  An imp erupted in flames as Zayne whirled toward me. His mouth opened as if he were about to say something. He snapped his jaw closed, his chin lowering along with his stare.

  “That was not cool,” I bit out.

  “You stank of demon blood,” he replied in that flat voice of his. His head tilted. “You’re very wet, little nephilim.”

  Noting that his gaze was hung up on two very private areas that were clearly visible through the soaked shirt, I realized that I would have no problem stabbing him through the heart at the moment.

  Not at all.

  “I’m also very pissed.” I joined my hands together on the hilt as I swung the sword forward. Grace spit and crackled, charging the air.

  “I can tell.” Zayne snapped forward, catching my wrists before the sword could reach him. “And I’m kind of turned on.”

  A scream of rage left me as I leaned back, bracing my weight on one foot. I kicked out, catching him in the stomach.

  Zayne grunted, but didn’t let go. “Ouch.” He twisted his arm, spinning me around. He pulled me back against him and the chill of his skin seeped through the thin, wet shirt. “Didn’t we just find ourselves in this very same predicament only a few hours ago?”

  White fire crackled and throbbed as I pulled against his hold. “When you said you would kill me the next time you saw me?” I spat back. “Instead you saved me.”

  “But I’m still seeing you.” His chin dipped, grazing my cheek. “Aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, and the night is still young.” I threw my head back, but he avoided the blow. “Why are you even here?”

  “I was watching your place.”

  I stiffened. Well, now I knew he remembered where we lived. “That’s creepy.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes, and it’s also wrong. It’s our place.”

  His grip on my wrists tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t. Keep telling yourself that you’re going to kill me or that you didn’t save me because you needed to do that. Whatever makes you feel good.”

  His other arm circled my waist. “You’re making me feel good.”

  There was a rather shameful flash of heat in response to his words, to how his voice had finally changed, becoming rougher, deeper. I didn’t know if I was more annoyed with myself or him at that moment.

  “You’re going to wear yourself out.” His lips ghosted across the curve of my jaw, sending a fairly inappropriate shiver dancing over my skin. “And then what, little nephilim? No grace. No daggers. It’ll just be me and you.”

  “It’s always been just you and me, Zayne.”

  Whether it was my words or the use of his name that startled him, his hold loosened enough for me to slip my left wrist free. I twisted away from him, and for a second, the Sword of Michael throbbed intensely between us.

  He smiled then, and my heart tripped over itself, because it was one of his smiles. Warm. Charming. Kind. Familiar.

  “Maybe I’ll keep you alive, then,” he said. “Keep you in a cage, my pretty little nephilim. You can be my pet.”

  His pet? I blinked. He did not just suggest what I thought he did. “Maybe I’ll cut off your—”

  He yanked forward, and I tried to dig in, but my feet slipped over the wet deck. Tingles exploded along my shoulders.

  He spun me out to the side. His wings snapped back as my gaze darted to the gathering shadows racing across the rooftop, toward us.

  Chairs and tables lifted to the air, flying to the sides as two cyclones of red and black...smoke came at us.

  I squinted. “What in the holy Hell?”

  The smoke expanded and then scattered, revealing the demons’ smooth, waxy skin and oval-shaped, pupilless eyes and holes for nostrils above wide, cruel mouths.

  These weren’t Ghouls. They were Seeker demons who were often sent to retrieve things of value for Hell.

  How in the world did Gabriel get them on his side?

  They skidded to a halt as they got an eyeful of...not me.

  Of Zayne.

  “Fallen,” one of them whispered in a guttural voice.

  Zayne lifted his wings. I didn’t see it, but I felt them stir my hair as they rose above us.

  The other Seeker demon cursed. “I didn’t sign up for this.” He turned on his heel and started to run, red and black smoke gathering around him.

  Well, then.

  Zayne lifted off the deck like a rocket. The Seeker demon didn’t make it very far.

  I glanced at the other demon. He started forward, clearly not as affected by me.

  “You’re coming with me, nephilim.”

  Now I was kind of offended.

  “Don’t make this hard,” the demon ordered. “You’ll just hurt yourself in the end.”

  “Really?” The Sword of Michael pulsed intensely. “God,” I muttered, stepping to the side. “Tonight is the worst.”

  I swung the sword. The Seeker demon was fast, but I was faster. He jumped back, but I spun, slicing the sword high, catching him in the midsection. The fiery blade cut through him as if his bone and muscle were nothing more than tissue paper.

  “Dammit,” the Seeker demon muttered just before the flames rippled over his body...parts.

  “Stimulating final words,” I said, turning around.

  The other Seeker demon met the same end. Sort of. There were sounds of a whole lot of...ripping and tearing that I didn’t even want to think about.

  My arms trembled as the grace throbbed in the center of my chest. I shouldn’t be burned out yet, but I was getting close. Normally I could last longer, but again, wasn’t like I was getting much rest. There was enough
juice in me to do what needed to be done. My heart started racing again as wet warmth gathered under my nose. Zayne already felt my grace, so me pulling on it wouldn’t alert him to what I was doing.

  Now was a better time than any. That’s what I told myself as I started across the roof to where Zayne stood. I wouldn’t even need the Crone. Zayne was here, and even though I wanted to punch him really hard, he was in there. He had to be. Why else was he watching me? Why else had he showed not once but twice to back me up? He was in there, and I was going to free him, one way or the other.

  Pressure clamped down on my chest as those magnificent wings soundlessly swept back. He looked over his shoulder at me. One side of his lips curled up as he dragged his lower lip between his teeth.

  My stupid, stupid heart skipped, and my steps faltered for only a heartbeat.

  And that was all it took.

  He was just so fast, too fast, and even if I was in tiptop shape, it wouldn’t have made a difference. He caught my arm before I could even lift the sword.

  The glow under his skin increased as he lowered his head, coming within mere inches of the Sword of Michael. “You’re bleeding.”

  I didn’t get a chance to respond.

  His other arm came around me, pulling me against him. I felt his muscles tense and bunch. For a moment, I thought he was going to lift in the air and take me away. Put me in a cage just like he said.

  But he didn’t fly in the air. He jumped sideways, and there was a second of realization. I lost my hold on the grace. The Sword of Michael collapsed just before we crashed through the water.

  We went down together, a tangle of legs and churning bubbles. His gaze met mine through the rushing water as we sank and sank. His lips moved as he spoke, and Jesus, were angels part-fish or something? Were there gills in those feathers?

  There was a better question to ask. Was he going to drown me? It was all too easy, with how tight he held me to him. There was no breaking his hold.

  Before that question could give way to panic, he pushed off the bottom of the pool. We broke the surface moments later, and he let go. I didn’t sink back, finding myself in a shallower end, where the water reached my waist.