Grace’s breath rasped as it burst from her. Sweet Jesus. Half-angel and half-demon. Her gaze darted to Gideon and away. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, then swallowed again. Answers. She’d wanted answers. Why had she wanted answers? She’d considered a lot of possibilities: a club, a weird cult, or something, but not that. Never that.
Some piece of her had always wondered about Heaven and Hell. How could she not? For her mother’s sake, she wanted them to be real…well, wanted the former to be real. But having that reality smash her in the face was something else entirely.
She had two possibilities before her, either they told a terrifying truth, or they were more delusional than she was. Neither was good. She needed to get out of there. Fast. Five people were positioned between her and the exit. She was midway through calculating her chances of making it past them when Elijah pulled her back.
“We need to learn who you are, Miss Crawford.”
Her head snapped back. “Who I am?” she asked, voice high while her hands clamped over her thighs. “I’m a nurse at Arillia Hospital. I’m Grace Crawford. I’m no one.”
“You are most definitely not no one,” Gideon rumbled, then narrowed his eyes. “Too many double negatives.”
Davis gave a sharp nod.
“Go back to your perch, Gideon,” Ben scoffed.
“I’ll move if the lady wants me to move.”
Grace tried to control her erratic heartbeat but failed miserably. Any thoughts of temptation, of his magnetism were obliterated. Dead and buried. All that was left was distrust. Fear. ‘His kind are dangerous…They shouldn’t be trusted.’ Ben’s words rang like a death knell in her mind. Demons were dangerous. Demons shouldn’t be trusted.
She offered Gideon the full weight of her feeble stare. “The lady wants you to move.”
He smiled and his eyes lit with mirth as he rose then returned to his post by the window.
A frayed strand of tension released from the invisible noose around Grace’s neck, but barely. Outnumbered as she was, her chances of escape were slim.
On her mental list of things to do, she scribbled:
- Figure a way out of this crap.
- Buy scary weapon…or mace. Or both. Definitely both.
Maybe if she answered their questions she could get out of Dodge and figure the rest out from there. That was a plan, and she desperately needed one of those. She faced Elijah. “What do you need from me?”
“An answer as to why you are not Marked to begin with.”
Her stomach sank. Not a good start. “I don’t have that answer.”
His palm patted the table again. “Who are your parents?”
“My parents were Scott Morgan and Wyla Crawford.”
“Those names are unfamiliar to me,” he stated. “They’re gone?”
Her gaze lowered as she fought, kicking, and screaming against the ache that rose in her chest at the reminder and at how alone she was in that moment. So crushingly alone. “They are.”
“And they never discussed any of this with you?”
Was there a spotlight on her? She could’ve sworn there was because his questions sure sounded like an interrogation. She clasped her hands to hide their shake. “No. I didn’t learn about it until I was eighteen, by then both of my parents were gone.”
That got everyone’s attention. Across the room, spines snapped straight, and eyes widened. Light from a passing car washed through the space, casting ghostly shadows along the walls from the bodies within.
Trevor’s glare homed in on her. “Not possible. We’re born with the ability.”
The grimace she offered was so deeply embedded it would probably be permanent. “I wasn’t. It started when I woke up after the accident.”
“Accident?” Davis prompted.
Her eyes flicked to the Mark identical to Gideon’s on the inside of his wrist. Her voice was even when she answered, “Accident. Don’t ask me about it because I don’t remember anything.” For so many reasons, she didn’t want them to ask.
Jenna pursed her lips before she questioned the room as a whole, “Could that have triggered the Sight?”
Elijah shook his head. “Our blood is our blood. I don’t see how that’s possible. Nevertheless, we’ll need to check The Chronicle and obtain her Collection to learn who Miss Crawford is.”
Learn who she was? Grace raked her hands through her hair as the words took on a whole new connotation. The walls closed in, constricting her ribs, and crushing her lungs, making it hard to breathe.
“I’ll need access to see what I can unearth,” Ben offered.
“Granted.”
Grace’s knee bounced wildly because she itched to run. To get as far from their madness as she could possibly get. “What will you be looking for in this Chronicle?”
“Your bloodline and parentage,” Elijah answered.
“I just told you who my parents wer–”
“They suspect you could be adopted,” Gideon said, then arched a brow. “Or kidnapped.”
She grabbed the edge of the table when a wave of dizziness hit, and her world spun on its axis. If that was true, there was a chance her mother had lied to her. That her mother had lied about everything.
“Either would explain why she wasn’t Marked,” Rodan agreed.
“And her lack of knowledge,” Ben said.
Davis shook his head. “But not her previous lack of Sight.”
Ben glowered at the two half-demons.
Jenna tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s a place to start.”
Trevor laughed without humor before he mumbled under his breath, “She could still be lying.”
The room fell deathly silent.
His attitude was seriously ticking Grace off…more so than before, which said something. The night had already gone well past sideways, and his mouth only made an untenable situation infinitely worse. He wasn’t within kicking range, so her smartass sass it would be. “What’s your problem, asshole?”
Gideon’s lip tipped up at the corner.
“You’re my problem. You’re all of our problem.” Trevor folded his arms over his chest and canted forward. “If you’re lying and you’re not a Shepherd like us, there’ll be a price to pay.”
The window ledge groaned under the force of Gideon’s grip.
“Enough, Trevor,” Ben ground through his teeth.
Grace’s shoulders tightened, her elbows pinning so tight to her ribs it hurt. “What kind of price?”
“We have a duty to uphold, Grace,” Elijah said. “If it’s determined you’ve managed to deceive us, that you are not one of us, you will be killed.”
When the words sank in, they sank in deep. Killed? Run. Run. Run. She had to get away. Sweat slicked her skin when she pushed as far back into her seat as she could go. “I just proved I can see.”
“Regardless, the warning must be issued. No one outside the Shepherds can know of our existence. The Chronicle may take some time to retrieve. In the interim, you’re to learn as much as possible before you’re placed and sworn to a side.”
Her phone was a lead weight in her pocket. If she could just send a message to Noah, he’d get help. His boyfriend, Kyle Garret, was a cop with the Arillia Police Department. He’d sic them on the Shepherds, get her the heck outta there. But they weren’t likely to let her send an S.O.S. Her gaze flicked around the room and landed on the bathroom door as an idea formed in her mind. She cleared her throat. “Sworn to a side?”
Gideon rolled his neck on his shoulders. “Once they figure out which of us you belong to,” he raised his Mark for her to see, “you’ll be branded like us.”
Which one of them she belonged to. How was it possible things had just gotten worse? She could be like him. Heaven above, she could be like him.
Elijah rubbed his temples like his life depended on it. “Gideon.” His stare slid from him to Ben. “I want both of you to teach Miss Crawford about your sides.”
Gideon inclined his head. “And what if she’s dual?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Either way, she’ll need to know these things. Show her a Calling.”
“What’s a Calling?” she asked as she scanned the room for alternate roads to freedom.
Ben rubbed his palms together and suggested, “It might be easier to show her.”
Elijah’s mouth pinched. His hand closed into a fist and gently knocked against the table while he considered her. He inclined his head. “Very well. Do it now. Nephilim first.”
The smile Ben offered Grace when he rose might’ve been heartwarming if the threat of death hadn’t hung like a slicy, stabby guillotine over her head.
Jenna, Rodan, and Trevor joined Ben, facing the far wall near the exit. He dragged up his sleeve and exposed his Marks, then tapped the wings closest to his wrist. “This is the Absolution Mark. Anyone who carries it is Nephilim. It lets us summon the Saved.” At her narrowed gaze he added, “The dead bound for Heaven.”
Her stomach roiled. Yes, of course. A summoning tool. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“Hey,” he said, pulling her gaze. “You’ll be alright, Grace.”
Alright? She wasn’t sure she’d ever be alright again, which meant she held not one ounce of his confidence when she nodded.
The Nephilim withdrew gold daggers hidden in their clothes. Oh, weapons…lovely. They brought the metal to their skin and sliced a thin line. Grace’s pulse quickened when their blood seeped free and they used the knife’s edge to spread it over the Absolution Mark.
The wings rippled, shimmering metallic and radiating like they were illuminated from within. The tissue of their wounds weaved together and stemmed the flow of their bleeding. She snapped to her feet.
“The blades are Heaven kissed. They heal any cut made into the Absolution Marks,” Ben told her.
She swayed. The air around them quavered, glowing iridescent and surging like steam rising from the sea. Silhouettes began to appear, mist swirling as they took form throughout the room, too many to count. Souls of the Saved.
She edged back until she butted against the wall and gave it her weight. Her chest heaved as her palms splayed over its cool surface. God above, she didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t look away.
“The Absolution Marks call to the dead on this plane,” Ben said. “Our mixed blood is what connects us to Heaven and Earth; the human part through this world, and the angel through the next.” He indicated a symbol with three rings that nested inside one another halfway up his forearm. “This is the Gateway Mark. It opens the way.” He swiped his blood-coated blade over it.
Frost dusted the room, creeping through every corner as it wrapped around her flesh. The cold oddly enticing. Clean. Pure.
Light sparked at the periphery of the souls then hovered above the ground when it flared to life, growing brighter and brighter. The air inside it rippled like a pebble dropped in a still pond, spreading wider before it spanned several feet across and grew transparent. A rift appeared at its center and fissured until a vast opening materialized. The archway was gilded, like the cuffs the Saved bore. And through it all was more light, endless, and calm. Like the gold of an evening dusk, but softer somehow. More inviting. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
She hadn’t expected it. Them. A “we help the dead resolve their issues” kind of thing, sure. But Heaven and Hell and opening portals to other freaking dimensions? Never.
Shapes materialized from the depths of the light, subtle outlines of beings that were unequivocally not human with white feathered wings that flared wide from their backs.
Ben pointed further up his arm. “This is the Passage Mark. It grants the dead access to the other side.”
The Nephilim trailed their blood across it, and light burst to life in the center of the Saved soul’s chests. It consumed, taking them in until they faded from the world. A breath later their silhouettes reappeared inside the Gate as they crossed over to eternity.
Grace’s knees grew weak, and she started to slide down the wall before a warm hand gripped her elbow, catching her. Her head whipped to the side. Gideon’s expression was impassive, but his amber stare blazed as it locked on her.
Demon.
What if she was like him? Did she even want to know? Could she handle it? The last two answers came easily. No and hell no. Things had gone so far off the rails she’d lost sight of the tracks. Between the threat of murder and her potential lineage, she was out. O-U-T. Out!
Her breathing was shallow, sharp. Its harshness clawed at her throat, slashing its way through her lungs. She couldn’t get air. She couldn’t—she…
Risky or no, she had to take a chance. She drew her arm from Gideon’s grasp and glanced away. Her stomach rolled, then rolled again. She settled her palm there. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
His lip tipped up at the corner. “We can’t have that now, can we?”
Ben’s glare pierced him before it landed on her. “Shit, Grace. You’re pale.”
“I’ve got to—” She covered her mouth with her hands, pretending to gag like she was ready to heave. Which wasn’t terribly far from the truth.
Gideon tipped his head toward the door in the corner, voice impassive. “There’s a washroom there.”
Ben made for Grace, but Elijah shook his head. “Close the Gate, Benjamin.”
Trevor moved in. “I’ll take her.”
Wait, what? Take her? No. Her plan wouldn’t work if she had a freaking escort. Especially a Trevor shaped one.
“Be sure to hold back her hair, Trevor,” Gideon drawled.
“I can manage,” Grace mumbled. Please let me manage.
Trevor opened his mouth to say something that would likely earn himself another junk kick, but Jenna scurried to Grace’s side before he could get it out.
“I’ll go,” the other woman volunteered.
Crap. Not ideal, but workable. Sure, Jenna had a weapon, but Grace could overtake her if she needed to. Possibly. Maybe if she tripped her or knocked her out with something… She just had to buy enough time to type a text. That was all she needed.
The bark of laughter that escaped Trevor was dark. “Keep an eye on her,” he warned Jenna. “She’s trouble.”
Grace’s shoulders sagged. Son of a–
“Feel better, Crys,” Gideon drawled, shifting his weight as her offered her a devastating wink.
Jenna stepped to her side then set a hand on Grace’s shoulder as they crossed the room. “Hold on. You’re almost there.”
Had Jenna not been aligned with the people that threatened to kill her, Grace might’ve liked her. But she was, so…awkward. Trevor stayed tight to their backs, a shadow haunting her steps. He was so close, his rank cologne burned her nose.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he told her.
Every fiber of her being wanted to lash out, tell him she’d already done something stupid when she’d decided to go with them, but that was counter to her goal. Instead, she angled his way and feigned a retch.
His bulging-eyed horror when he jumped back brought a minute sliver of joy to her frantic little heart.
“Leave her alone, Trevor.” Jenna shoved the bathroom door wide, guided Grace inside and locked it behind them.
The room was open with only one toilet, no stalls, or dividers; nowhere to covertly send a message. Bad! A jolt of adrenaline exploded through Grace at the sight of the window on the far wall. It’d be a tight fit, but she could wiggle her ass out of it…she just needed to get to it.
Walking to the sink, she turned on the tap to cover any noise she might make, then steeled herself. She didn’t want to hurt Jenna, but if it was the difference between living and dying, she’d do what she had to. Still, she’d need to catch her by surprise before Jenna could get to her dagger. Grace fisted her hands, readying.
“Give me your coat,” Jenna whispered so low Grace had to strain to hear it.
It took several long seconds before her brain caught up to what was said, and her brows plunged in a furrow. “Huh?”
“I at least need to make it look like I tried to stop you.”
Hope stumbled like a clumsy fawn in her chest. “Wait, you’re gonna let me go?”
She nodded. “I get it. This,” she gestured about them to their situation as a whole, “is a lot, and the way they’re coming at you is wrong.” Her eyes darted to the door. “But we do need to make this look real.”
Grace froze, a new worry taking root, because if Jenna was aiding her escape… “Are you safe? You can come with me if you want.”
A genuine smile took Jenna, one that reached her eyes. “I promise, I’m in good hands.”
Grace had no clue what to make of that but nor did she have time to parse it out.
Jenna mussed her own hair, then undid the top button of her shirt and yanked the rest of it askew. Grace peeled off her jacket and passed it to the other woman. Stepping onto the toilet seat, she unlatched the window, and eased it open. The frigid night air struck her like a slap in the face, stinging her skin. She winced against it, but it was a small price to pay for freedom.
“Ready?” Jenna asked.
She took a slow inhale, then nodded.
“Grace, no! Stop! Ah!” Jenna yelled before she kicked the wall with the heel of her boot. “Don’t!”
A heavy thump pounded against the door, startling Grace. Her footing slipped and she grabbed the window ledge, holding on for dear life.
“Open the door,” Trevor’s muffled voice commanded.
Ha! Like that was gonna happen. Glancing back, Grace mouthed Thank you.
“Stop!” Jenna screamed as she snapped Grace’s coat in the air.
“Open the goddamn door!”
Time to move. She hauled herself up and clambered headfirst out the window where the snow and ice-crusted asphalt loomed five feet below. Letting go, she crumbled to the ground in an ungraceful heap of hair and limbs, grunting at the impact. She’d be decorated in a colorful array of bruises the next day, but at least she’d be alive.
Scrambling to her feet, she peered back as Davis burst into the bathroom. Shards of wood exploded inward followed by the door itself. Trevor staggered in behind him and cursed a string of epithets that might’ve made her blush if she hadn’t been so occupied with keeping her feet while she fled.
“Grace!” Ben yelled, but she didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.
Her hands fumbled as she yanked her keys from her purse, dove inside, then disappeared into the night.