Grace’s pulse thrashed in her ears. “Now?”
Angie’s lips were pursed when she nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. Now.”
God, as if her life wasn’t messy enough. Two days had passed since her Marking and for more reason than one, her mind was foggy, thoughts distant, still within reach, but slow to surface. Between Ben, her branding, the Claimed and—she swallowed hard—everything with Gideon, meeting with the investigator for questioning, scheduled or not, was the last thing she needed. Setting her chart aside, she nodded and left.
When she stepped off the elevator, her footsteps echoed, drumming out of time with her heartbeat, as she made her way down the empty hall toward Horace’s office. Well, what the hospital called his office anyway. It was more like a musty broom closet in a cold, damp corner of the basement.
Her lungs constricted as she popped her head in the door and offered a tight smile. “Angie informed me this was my allotted time to be interviewed.”
The investigator shifted in his seat behind his make-shift desk. He dragged a hand over his gray hair and sucked in his stomach as he rose. “Nurse Crawford, I presume?”
Grace strode the remainder of the way into the room on unsteady feet. “That’s me.”
He shook her hand. “I’m Horace Redford.” The bathroom door to their left popped open. “And this,” he indicated the woman in her mid-fifties with dyed, yellow-blonde hair who joined them, “is retired nurse Melina Grant. She’ll be sitting in as my expert of reference.” He gestured for Grace to take a seat in the orange plastic, cafeteria-style chair across from him.
The three took their respective places. Grace crossed her legs, then uncrossed them and smoothed her scrubs. She was too twitchy. She needed to get it together before she implicated herself in a crime she hadn’t committed.
He rested his elbows on the edge of his desk. Picking up his pen, he twisted it and he reset the papers before him. “Do you understand why you’re here?”
“I do.” She crossed her legs again.
He inclined his head while his stare caught on her trembling hands. “Is it alright if I record the audio of this session?”
“Of course,” she said feebly. A permanent record of her words…lovely.
He set the machine down, turned it on, then shifted forward in his seat. “According to the file of patient zero, Laura Gastin, you were the acting nurse for the treatment of her gallstones?”
She swallowed hard. “I was.”
“During that treatment, did you notice anything strange with the patient?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Her symptoms were standard for the diagnosis.”
“Outside of those symptoms, did she behave oddly?”
“Not that I noticed, but a mental health diagnosis would be outside my scope of practice, so I wouldn’t be qualified to make that assessment.”
He tapped the end of his pen against the desk. “Do you have any suspicions about the outbreak or what could be causing it?”
Ha! Suspicions? She had more than suspicions. Raising her hand, she rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m not sure.” It was probably normal for people to be nervous during questionings. It had to be. She prayed it was, otherwise, her fidgety ass would be looking all kinds of guilty.
His head canted, that stare prodding her deep. “You look uncomfortable. Is everything alright, Miss Crawford?”
She stiffened and lowered her arm. Not good. “I’m just, ah, nervous. I’ve never been through anything like this before.”
Horace gave a crisp nod, leaned heavily into his chair and spun the pen around the ends of his fingers as he circled back. “Can you please explain what you did with your patient that night?”
Her throat ran dry. Did he suspect her? Was she some kind of giant red flag? Did he think she knew something? She swallowed hard. “Everything?”
He inclined his head, his voice even when he said, “Yes, Nurse Crawford. Everything.”
* * *
The frigid night’s air nipped at Grace’s skin while she scurried across the hospital’s parking lot. She dove into her car and started it. Chucking her purse on the passenger seat, she cranked the heat and left. It probably would’ve been prudent to wait until the engine warmed, but she was cold as ass, and it’d heat faster in motion.
Her breath came out in short puffs, and she hiked her shoulders to trap what was left of her warmth. Cold shivers that had nothing and everything to do with her Absolution Mark chased through her. The cool bite of pain was constant, and it simmered somewhere deep inside she couldn’t place.
A shadow moved in her periphery as she turned down a back road to take a faster route home because faster meant heat. Glorious, glorious heat.
She hadn’t seen Ben since she’d practically fled the compound the morning that followed her Marking. They needed to talk but addressing him alone after what’d happened was a hard no. She had to sort herself. To figure out her approach to deal with him. His comment about Noah replayed in her mind like a video on loop. Not because she doubted the need for her best friend but because she doubted the need for him. Noah was her constant—a non-negotiable. Anything that tried to interrupt that friendship was a problem. She’d lost enough joining the Shepherds, she wouldn’t be trapped by Ben, too.
Connecting her phone to the car’s system, she dialed her best friend.
“Hey,” he answered.
“Hey.”
Her defeated tone must’ve tipped him off because his next words were serious, “What’s wrong?”
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Gracie?”
She let loose a shuddering sigh. “I’m tired.” The kind of tired that sleep would never help. It permeated everything. Her body, her thoughts, her emotions. Her wick had burned down to ash and smoke.
He knew her too well for that answer to pass unchecked. “Tired of what?”
“Everything.”
“Is this about Ben?”
Her stomach twisted. There were a lot of things that plagued her, and Ben definitely stood at the top of that list. “Yeah.”
“Oh. Did you two…?”
“No. I didn’t let it get that far.” Thank God.
“You don’t sound happy about how far it went.”
Her answering laugh was hollow. Ben was dangerous. She was pissed she hadn’t seen it sooner—hadn’t seen him sooner. She’d been distracted by his pretty words and promises and dismissed every red flag along the way. She’d been a fool.
Grace rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand.
“Do you want him?”
The answer to that question was simple, but the solution… “He’s my Sect Leader, Noah. What do I do?”
“Do you need me to come home so we can figure it out?”
“No. Stay with Kyle. I need to think. At the end of the day, this is on me to deal with. I got myself into this mess, now I’ve got to find a way through it.”
Her shoulders tightened when several patches of black ice reflected off her headlights, partially hidden by the dusting of snow that skittered across the ground. She eased her foot off the gas some.
“Gracie—”
“I should go. The roads are getting bad.”
“We’re not done here. Call me to let me know you made it home safe.”
“Alright. I love you, Noah.”
“I love you too.”
She ended the call and clenched the steering wheel like it might make her a better driver. The streetlights grew few and far between until the last one lingered up ahead. Something swooped past and blotted out the little light before it vanished. Her foot slapped the brake and her arms locked straight while she fought to keep the car from fishtailing, then thanked all that was holy when she managed.
Swoop.
It whipped by again and she jerked the wheel. The hairs on the back of her neck practically levitated as she corrected the car. Her instincts begged her to go faster, but the road was treacherous, and she couldn’t risk—
BOOM.
The vehicle lurched hard to the left when the thing slammed into the back passenger side. Gravel grated beneath her tires as the crunch of metal filled the night. Her head snapped around and caught a flash of black leathered wings.
Grace blinked hard. No. She couldn’t have seen that right. It wasn’t possible. But the alarm bells that blared in the back of her mind begged to differ.
Her chest heaved, eyes drawn to the rear-view mirror. Wings spread wide when a demon descended, and her taillights reflected off its skin, painting it a sinister shade of red.
BOOM.
It hit and knocked the car forward. She screamed as its claws hooked into the trunk then latched on. Its fist smashed against the back window. Boom. Boom. Boom. The glass exploded, and its cubes sprayed everywhere, striking her from behind while they tinkled though the car.
How had a demon gotten loose? And why the hell was it trying to kill her?
Bad roads or no, she needed to do something. Cutting the wheel hard to the left, the demon lost its hold and careened off. The car swayed violently, and she whimpered when the wheels caught the rocky shoulder.
Her terror washed over her like a tidal wave, rushing her emotional shore and swallowing everything in its path, her thoughts, her breath, her heart. Her eyes lit on her purse, and she reached for it, clumsily unzipping it with one hand.
BOOM.
The hood of the car bucked violently when a female demon landed on it. It raised its head, and its black eyes locked on Grace’s, offering her the promise of a painful death—so much pain.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Grace screamed.
The she-demon tilted its head at an inhuman angle and smiled, baring jagged teeth filed to razored points. Black-tar blood dripped in slow, thick rivulets from its mouth, oozing over its chin. “You.”
Grace’s throat seized, and she slammed on the brakes. The car fishtailed again and swung left, then right, then left. The beast held on, but its grasp loosened, and it slid down the hood.
BOOM.
Grace’s roof caved in as a demon-shaped imprint missed her head by inches. Oh, God, there are two of them!
She punched the gas.
The she-demon tore its grip free from the metal as she climbed back into position, then raked its talons across the windshield. The high-pitched keening almost drowned out all other sound before its claws punctured the glass.
Grace shoved her hand inside her purse. Where are they?
“How is it you see what you see?” the she-demon snarled, voice carrying over the chaos.
Dread wrapped around her like a tomb. Her eyes widened and flicked to the side as she tried to see around it and keep the damn car on the road. “What?”
“You see differently than the others. You see more than you should. How?” it demanded as it tore the glass away and tossed it aside, giving it a clear path to Grace.
The force of the wind stung her eyes and stole her breath. “I—I don’t know!”
A taloned hand broke through the roof as the second demon reached for her. It sliced through her seatbelt, barely missing her chest. Grace’s fingers wrapped around a cool handle. Pulling it from her purse, she plunged down and sank her golden dagger into its flesh.
The beast shrieked. Steam rose on the air when its hand crumbled to ash, filling the car and Grace’s lungs with its acrid stench. She wretched, then wretched again. With its good hand, it slammed down. A sharp squeal filled the world as the top of the car tore back.
OH, GOD!
When the male demon’s rage-filled face appeared, Grace stabbed up and caught it in the eye. Black-blood spurt everywhere, covering her as the thing bucked and snarled and spit. It cracked apart, then fragmented into piece after piece until it was nothing but dust. It left no soul in its wake.
The she-demon hissed.
Grace needed help, and she needed it fast. There were only a handful of people who knew what she could see, which meant there were only a handful of people that information could have come from. One of them had outed her, so who did she call?
She’d convinced herself that good and evil were easily defined. That blood mattered. At every turn, she’d ignored her instincts, shoving them aside in the name of logic, something she wasn’t about to do again.
Hitting the call button on the steering wheel, she waited for the Bluetooth system to respond. It didn’t. She tried again. Nothing. No. No. No!
“WHO ARE YOU?” the she-demon roared.
Grace pointed the dagger at it, shaking so hard, her body rocked in the seat.
SWOOP. SWOOP.
More beastly shadows moved in. A winged silhouette touched down on the road ahead. Waiting.
Grace veered around it. The car’s rear end slid out and it headed for the ditch. Please, no! If she lost control, she was done. The tires caught, and the vehicle punched forward as the rubber chirped against the road.
“Who has gifted you?” the she-demon demanded.
Gifted her? Gifted her what?
Metal shrieked as talons tore through her door, nicking her skin. She cried out. Pain. So much pain.
Her chest rose and fell in explosive bursts when she dumped her purse out and grabbed her phone. She waved the knife to keep the she-demon at bay. After several pathetic and quivering attempts, she hit the home button to turn the device on. Would help even come in time? She selected her contacts and searched for—
“Enough of this.” The she-demon leaned over and stabbed the side of the car. There was loud pop when it pierced Grace’s tire. The car cut a sharp right and careened straight for the ditch. It surged from the road with a horror-inducing silence, then launched airborne before it crashed back to the world. It ground to a painful halt as the demon, metal, and Grace herself went flying. She didn’t have the chance to scream before she landed hard, and everything went black.
* * *
Pain exploded behind Grace’s eyes as she cracked them open. Her body hurt everywhere as her head fell to the right. A car sat on its side in a crumpled heap about ten feet away. It looked familiar somehow, yet not. Something flickered in her peripheral vision, and she peered toward it. Her phone. She needed it for some reason but couldn’t remember why. She groaned as she reached for it.
Her head lolled back when someone latched onto her leg. The first thing she caught sight of was wings.
Wings. Demons! The puzzle pieces clicked together, and everything flooded back to her in a rush.
The she-demon offered her a feral smile. “You’re going to answer my questions.” It swiped a taloned claw across its flesh and smeared the black blood that surfaced over the Mark on its upper arm. A Mark that matched Gideon’s. It flared orange, then molten red. The air wavered as smoke trailed up from the palm of its hand. A second later, flames burst to life.
Hellfire.
Grace stabbed the name on her phone and dialed. Her voice broke on a scream when she was hit by the blaze. Agony was all she knew. It consumed, blinding. She was dying. She had to be. No one could survive this. The fire bore so deep her body bucked, uncontrollable. She gasped for air but couldn’t find it.
The she-demon drew back the flame. It crouched, and its face hovered an inch from Grace’s while its death and rot-scented breath washed over her. “Now,” it said, voice sweet as poison honey, “let’s try this again, shall we?”