Grace and Glory

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

  Then I pulled my hair back in a braid, using the time in front of the mirror to find some sort of center. Whatever progress I’d made in terms of bruises had been lost. I looked like I’d face-planted into a brick wall. A nice reddish-blue bruise covered my right cheek and the corner of my mouth. There was a small tear in my lip that hadn’t appreciated the minty toothpaste, but I supposed that was by far an improvement from looking like I face-planted into said wall from twenty stories above.

  I turned my head to the side, checking out the lovely imprint of Gabriel’s fingers. Man, his last imprint had just healed—

  It was then when I noticed the faint purplish bruise where my neck met my shoulder. Drawing the collar of the tunic aside, I leaned in closer to the mirror. My face flushed hot when I realized what it was.

  A hickey.

  “Oh, for the love of God,” I muttered as my stomach curled. I tugged the collar back in place.

  I returned to the bedroom and looked around. I half expected to find Peanut floating out from the walls, but there was no sign of him. Sighing, I picked up my phone. There was a message from Dez. As expected, there’d been no sign of Zayne, but Gideon had been able to track down the dead guy we’d found in the park the other night. The one Zayne had...dispatched. Apparently he was not a good dude. Multiple accusations ending in charges dropped in court, but plenty of evidence that suggested he’d needed to be imprisoned and on multiple advisory lists.

  So Zayne hadn’t lied, and as messed up as it still was, it was good news. Knowing I needed to give him a heads-up about what I planned to do tonight, I texted about how Cayman and I were going to check on a lead today.

  My phone rang not even a minute after I sent the text.

  He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the lack of details, but I managed to convince him that I wasn’t going out looking for Zayne alone.

  It took a while.

  “Did you really stay in last night? You didn’t go back out there?” he asked. “Honestly?”

  “You saw what kind of condition I was in. I was dragging. I slept all night,” I told him as I picked up my dirty clothes, dropping them in a small hamper.

  “Yeah, you definitely were dragging.”

  Wondering exactly how bad I looked to others and then remembering what I looked like in the mirror, I frowned.

  Dez was quiet for a moment but then I heard his heavy sigh, and I knew something I probably didn’t want to hear was coming. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about Zayne, Trinity. A lot of thinking I would rather not be doing but needed to. I think we need to prepare ourselves for the fact that he...that he may not return to us.”

  Stamping down the rush of anger, I placed the hamper by the stacked washer and dryer. “He’s in there, Dez. I know he is.”

  “I want to believe that. More than you probably think I do, but who we saw in the park wasn’t Zayne.”

  “He’s still in there,” I repeated, tossing a detergent pod in with the clothes as I thought about what Zayne said before he left. The thing that’s taking up a part of me will hurt you.

  “Trust me, I know he is. I’m going to get him back.”

  “We just need to be prepared,” Dez replied. “That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I know.” I slammed the laundry door shut hard enough that it would’ve scared Peanut if he was nearby. Peanut. Something occurred to me. “Can you ask Gideon to check on something for me?”

  “Sure. What you need?”

  “I don’t know if he can even help or not, but there’s a girl that lives in this apartment complex. Her name is Gena,” I told him. “I don’t know her last name or who her parents are. All I know is that she’s on a lower floor. I need to know what apartment she’s in.”

  “That’s going to be hard with just a kid’s name, but some apartments require all occupants to be listed at the manager’s office. I’ll see if Gideon can crack into their systems.”

  “Perfect,” I said, knowing it was a long shot.

  “Do I want to know why you want this information?” he asked after a moment.

  “It involves a ghost, so probably not.”

  “You’re right. I don’t.”

  As I walked over to the fridge, there was one other thing that randomly popped into my head. “There’s something else I was wondering. Gideon seems to know a lot about the history of Wardens and even the Trueborns, right?”

  “He knows more than any of us,” Dez said.

  I nibbled on my thumbnail as I stared at the fridge. “I was wondering if he could find out if...if it was documented that any Trueborns had ever, you know, given birth?” I cringed. “I mean, like any record of them ever getting pregnant or getting someone else pregnant.”

  It was so quiet on the other end I could probably hear a cricket sneeze.

  Then Dez cleared his throat. “That was a very unexpected question, Trinity.”

  My entire face scrunched up. It was a random question, one I really didn’t want to have to ask, but asking Dez was far better than calling up Thierry or Matthew and asking them. “I’m just curious.”

  “Or asking for a friend, right?” His tone was as dry as the desert.

  “Yeah. Definitely asking for a friend.” I turned and bent over, gently knocking my head off the cool granite of the counter. “So do you think Gideon would know or could find out?”

  “I can ask,” he said, and there was a pause and what sounded like a door closing on his end. “Look, um, I don’t know how to say this without just coming out and saying it.”

  I stopped beating my head off the granite, leaving it resting there.

  “But if Trueborns and Wardens are biologically compatible, I don’t think after what you went through with Gabriel that any, uh, pregnancy would be...viable,” he explained while sounding like he wanted to scrub his brain with a wire brush. “I’m just saying, you know, in case you’re thinking that, but if you’re worried, there’s this thing called a pregnancy test, which can be picked up at just about—”

  “Oh my God, I know that.” I lifted my head. “And I know that after what happened with Gabriel, there’d be no chance of that being an issue.”

  “Then why would you even...?” His inhale was audible through the phone. “Trinity.”

  I cringed again. “Okay. Well, I need—”

  “Don’t you dare hang up that phone,” he interrupted. “You saw Zayne again, didn’t you? What in the Hell happened? What—?” He cut himself off with a curse, and when he spoke again, his voice was uncomfortably gentle. “Did something happen? Did he do something?”

  Oh my God, I knew what he meant.

  I returned to banging my head off the counter. “Nothing that I didn’t actively and wholeheartedly partake in happened.”

  More silence greeted me.

  “This is awkward,” I said.

  “No shit,” he shot back.

  “And I would like to pull a T. Swift, and remove myself from this narrative.”

  “This is your narrative, Trinity.”

  “I know,” I muttered. “Can you just ask Gideon for me? Because honestly, I have no idea if it’s even possible for Trueborns, and I would just like to know.”

  “For curiosity’s sake.”

  “Sure.”

  His sigh was so heavy that I was surprised it didn’t rattle my phone. “Yeah, I’ll see if he knows.”

  “Thank you.” At this point, I was half lying on the counter. “I’m going to get off here and drink some bleach. I’ll let you know what happens with our lead.”

  “Trinity?”

  “Yes?” I whined.

  “Be careful,” Dez said, his voice soft again. “Just be...just be damn careful, okay? Zayne means a lot to you. I know he does. He means a lot to us, too. But you mean the world to everyone else, and if something happens to you, there won’t be a worl
d.”

  * * *

  Cayman showed up shortly after the most awkward conversation known to man. I didn’t let myself think beyond the next minute as we left the apartment. Too much was up in the air and too much depended on what wasn’t guaranteed. The Crone may have already left the city. She may still be at the hotel but ask for something I couldn’t give in return for her aid; after all, I didn’t expect her to just help me out of the kindness of her heart. She could possibly refuse. I kept my mind blank as Cayman and I rode the elevator down to ground level. He didn’t have a car, but ordered Uber Black.

  “It’s the only way to Uber,” he told me, straightening his sunglasses as a black town car pulled up to the curb.

  My foot bounced the whole way to the hotel as nervous energy built and mingled with my grace. I felt like an exposed live wire when we arrived at the familiar hotel.

  “I’ll wait for you at the apartment,” Cayman said. “Call me when you can.”

  “You’ll answer this time?” I opened the door.

  He nodded. “Thoughts and prayers.”

  I shot him a look from behind the sunglasses, and he was still chuckling when I closed the door on him. I turned around as the sleek car pulled away from the curb and walked across the sidewalk, out of the still oddly cool air and into the near frigid temps of the hotel lobby. I made a beeline for the elevator and, once inside, hit the button for the thirteenth floor.

  Stepping back so I stood in front of the doors, I was motionless, sunglasses still shielding my eyes and hands at my sides. When the elevator came to a smooth stop, my racing heart finally calmed. I walked out and into the hallway, following it down to where it curved, and finally the restaurant came into view. I could see lights on behind the tinted windows.

  Part of me couldn’t believe I was here. After the last time, I really hadn’t planned on coming back. Inside was nothing more than a cemetery in my opinion.

  Pulling the sunglasses off, I tucked one of the arms into the collar of my top and then glanced up and to the left, where a camera Roth destroyed had been. It had been replaced. Another good sign. I opened the door. There was no breezy jazz music playing. No clinks and clangs of dishes and utensils. My eyes had a bit of trouble adjusting to the dimly lit interior, but I recognized the woman behind the hostess table, and based on the way the dark-haired woman muttered an impressive stream of curses under her breath, she recognized me.

  “Rowena—”

  “Just so you know,” she cut in. “I am not cleaning up any messes this time. I was finding ash in places ash should never be for days.”

  Considering that the ash she referenced was human remains of her fellow coven, I was thinking there really was no place that stuff should’ve been, but whatever. “Hopefully there’ll be no reason to leave a mess behind this time. Is the Crone here?”

  Rowena didn’t answer for a long moment, but then she nodded curtly. She motioned for me to follow her.

  Thank you baby alpacas everywhere.

  We walked past the wall that blocked the dining area, and I tried to see everything that I could as quickly as possible. The restaurant looked a lot different from before. All the booths had been stripped out, along with all of the tables and chairs, all except one round table. It sat under a glittering chandelier, and there were three chairs. One was occupied.

  “There you go,” Rowena said, and she pivoted, stalking back to the front of the restaurant.

  “Don’t just stand there, girl,” the Crone, whose back was to me, called out. “I’m not getting any younger. You can have the seat to the left.”

  Goose bumps prickled my skin as I walked forward. Obviously my appearance wasn’t a surprise. I swallowed and went to the chair she indicated, then sat down, able to see her more clearly. The Crone was old, like had seen the turn of the last century kind of old. Hair the color of snow, and her rich brown skin was heavily lined and creased, but her eyes were as sharp and as shrewd as ever. My gaze dipped to the front of her purple and pink shimmery shirt. It read DAYS THAT END IN AY ARE WINE DAYS.

  I met her stare. “You were expecting me?”

  “Of course I was.” The Crone smiled, and the creases deepened. “Don’t you remember? I told you the last time I saw you that you’d bring me something I’d never seen before. A real prize.”

  Another wave of shivers broke out over my skin. “You did say that, but I... I haven’t brought you anything.”

  “Not yet,” she replied, picking up what I suspected to be, well, a glass of wine. “But you will when you bring me the Fallen.”

  14

  Disbelief thundered through me as I stared at the Crone. She’d known. I didn’t know if I should be mad that she hadn’t given me just the tiniest heads-up or if I should be freaked out.

  Probably freaked out.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, reaching over and patting my hand as I blanched. “Not literally. Mind reading has never been a skill I wanted to learn, but I knew the moment I saw you that you’d bring me something very special.”

  I started to respond, but became aware of a presence—a warmth against my skin in the cool air. I turned to look to my left and squinted, unsure if I was seeing what I thought I was.

  It appeared to be a small...boy coming our way. A kid with a pile of golden curls on his head. As he drew closer, I saw that he couldn’t be older than ten or eleven. I watched him take the seat opposite of me, wondering if he was lost and if we needed to find his parents, call the cops or whatever it was that you did when you found a random child somewhere no kid should be.

  Then I saw his eyes.

  I jerked back with a gasp of surprise, my hand slipping out from underneath the Crone’s. His eyes were a vibrant blue, like a Warden’s, but the pupils were all white.

  His little face broke out into a smile. “Hello, Trinity.” He extended a small hand, his arm barely reaching the middle of the table. “I’m Tony. It’s good to finally meet another like me.”

  My gaze dropped to his hand and then rose to his face. “You’re a...”

  “I’m not a Trueborn, but I do have a whole lot of angel blood kicking around in me, more than most,” he said, and I blinked. He looked like a kid, sounded like one, but he spoke like an adult. “My grandfather was an angel. A Throne.”

  A Throne.

  Oh. My. God.

  Was it the one who—

  “Visited you in the church?” he finished my thought. “And gave you the lowdown on how you can help Zayne?”

  I blinked again. “Can you read thoughts?”

  “No.” Tony giggled, and he sounded very much like a small child then. “But I’ve seen this already.”

  He was prophetic. A seer. A real one, and not one of the 1-800-Hotline-Psychics. It made sense that he had a Throne in his family tree, with the whole seeing the future thing, but a grandfather?

  “Yeah, angels tend to bend the rules when the sin benefits the greater good,” he answered the question I didn’t speak. “Just like your father did. Just like many more have done.”

  He wiggled his fingers then.

  Slowly, I reached across the table and took his small hand in mine. The moment our skin touched, there was a jolt that traveled up my arm, raising the hair.

  Tony grinned, squeezing my hand before letting go. I watched him pick up a glass. “Apple juice. It’s amazing.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  The Crone chuckled, drawing my gaze. “You came here for a reason, didn’t you, Trueborn?”

  “Yeah,” I repeated, sitting back. It took a moment, but I pulled myself together. “Yes, I am. You know what has happened to Zayne?”

  “I know that he was given his Glory and that he Fell.” The Crone sipped her wine.

  “I told her that,” Tony announced.

  “He did,” the Crone confirmed as my gaze darted betwee
n them. “Of course, he did so in the vaguest possible way.”

  “Hey.” Tony lifted his empty hand. “I can only help so much. Them’s the rules. I didn’t make them, but I personally think that’s what I said, which was, and I quote, ‘One born of the blood of the holy sword will hold in her hand the heart of one born after a second Fall.’” He snapped his fingers. “Pretty obvious, right?”

  I opened my mouth and then closed it.

  One side of the Crone’s mouth curled upward. “Ah, yes, so very obvious.”

  All of that sounded somewhat obvious now, but... Shaking my head, I refocused on the Crone. “I came to see if there was any way that you could help me. I need to lure Zayne to me and somehow...” God, I hated even saying this. “I need to incapacitate him without hurting him so that I can try...try to bring him back to the way he was. He can sense when I’m about to use my grace, and he’s very powerful and...well, he’s unpredictable. I need to gain the upper hand.”

  “And what if you cannot bring him back to the way he was?” the Crone asked. “What if he is lost to you?”

  My breath caught as my chest seized with pain. For a moment, I couldn’t vocalize what I’d already acknowledged I had to do. “I will do what is necessary to make sure Zayne doesn’t become a monster he would’ve hunted, but I don’t believe he’s lost to me. I know he’s not. I know.”

  “So, you have faith?” Toby asked.

  I looked at him. “I have...” I trailed off. Why was it so hard to say? Faith was...it was a slippery thing, staying with you and then slipping through your fingers before you knew it. If I had time to psychoanalyze myself, I was sure it would have something to do with my absentee father, the loss I had experienced throughout the years and the general unfairness of life, but I didn’t have time for all of that. The important part was that I did. I knew that as I stared at the kid. There were moments when I didn’t. Hell, there were entire days when I didn’t, but even when I had doubts, and Lord, did I have a lot of them, I had faith that there was a purpose.