Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) (22 page)

Quentin reached for the suitcase. “Ready?”

“
I got it.” The obnoxious hum of the suitcase’s wheels followed as she walked to the Jag.

Laney didn’t need to be told which room at Morgan Manor was hers. Every time their family had any gatherings that went too late in the night, she would sleep in the guest room at the very end of the hall from Grace’s. Laney and Quentin passed the doorway of Grace’s bedroom, a suitcase in Laney’s hand, and two boxes in Quentin’s.

Torn between being relieved her mother gave her no grief about moving and not wanting the homey feeling of the manor to be tarnished, Grace sighed and heaved the suitcase on top of the bed and started unpacking. Once she was done, she pulled some comfy pajamas from the dresser and went into her bathroom to get ready for bed. Mentally she gave herself a pep talk as she sat on the edge of the tub. She needed to talk to her mother to find out what else was going on. Why was Laney so ready to go and not surprised by the sudden urgency to get out of her house?

Quickly, Grace brought her hands down, slapping the edge of the tub with a loud whack. “Here goes nothing,” she said aloud as she stood up. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she strained to listen for voices. None upstairs and certainly none downstairs. The house was eerily quiet. She didn’t think that both her mother and
Quentin would just go to bed their first night without saying good night. They could be somewhere in the house talking. She crossed her fingers and hoped they were.

Walking on the balls of her feet, she tried to be as quiet as possible. Maybe she’d get lucky and overhear what she wanted to know instead of having to face down her mother for the truth. Her mental switchboard was already running at full capacity and dangerously close to overloading. Tonight was not a good night for a Laney argument.

Grace twisted her fingers tighter, and sidled toward the aroma of coffee wafting from the kitchen. Heels and back against the wall, she leaned her ear closer to the door. She still didn’t hear anything, but she knew someone was in there. Peeling herself off the wall, she walked through the doorway. Laney sat on the far side of the breakfast nook table, Quentin on the side closest to Grace with his left elbow on the table, the right hanging off the back of the chair. Both were quietly watching her. Waiting is more like it, Grace decided.

“
Don’t tell me, ‘the band,’” she added air quotes, “told you I was coming.” Grace grabbed a coffee cup from the cupboard, poured herself a cup, and sat at the head of the table closest to her mother and Quentin.

“
Don’t mock the band, hater. I knew you were lurking outside the door,” Quentin said with a slight smile.

Grace took a quick sip of coffee. “How’d you know I was standing outside the door?”

“
Well, it’s kind of like what I said to you about the band helping me know how you’re feeling. It also helps me sense where you are.”

“
It’s a GPS tracker?” she asked as her mother remained quiet, but obviously visually engaged in the conversation.

“
Not exactly.”

“
Then what, exactly? Stop speaking ‘Quentin’ and just spit it out already.” This beating around the bush thing was going to drive her mental.

“
The seneschal band links us together. I sense you, feel you. Your emotions run through my veins … fear, sadness, happiness. The whole gamut.”

Laney still hadn’t said a word and the look on her face confirmed to Grace she wasn’t surprised by anything she heard. Grace’s head swiveled back and forth between the two. “So, what you’re telling me is, not only can I be sensed by the others, but I can also be tracked by you?”

“
Basically.”

“
Great, my personal paparazzi posse is now complete. Yay, me!” She jerked her chin toward her mother. “And why do you seem like you already know about all of this?”

Laney cleared her throat. “After listening to you and Quentin back at the house, it seemed like the smart thing to do was leave with you.”

“
Uh-uh, that’s bull. I know you, and you would have fought him tooth and nail. Especially since he’s a stranger.” Laney’s eyes searched out Quentin’s. Quentin’s locked on Laney’s. “Oh, come on. You two never met before tonight, right?”

“
Grace, listen …” Laney said, as she reached for Grace’s hand.

Grace pulled away from the table, pulling her hands away and holding them in the air. “Right, Mom?” Her mother didn’t say a word. “I can’t believe this. You’ve known?” Grace shook her head slightly as the realization sunk in. “Why would you not tell me? Is there anyone, anyone at all, who hasn’t lied to me my whole life?”

“
Please, Grace, you don’t understand,” Laney pleaded.

“
I understand you’re a liar!” Grace shifted her eyes accusingly to Laney’s. “I understand Christophe was a liar. I understand my father was a liar, and now I understand Quentin’s a liar. I completely understand that I have been and still remain surrounded by liars!”

She tried sipping her coffee despite the emotion rattling her teeth against the cup’s edge. Things just kept getting better. The more she knew, the more she wanted off the crazy train that had suddenly become her life.

“
Grace,” Quentin said softly. She couldn’t look at him. Instead, she kept her eyes and hands on her cup. He sighed loudly, but continued. “We couldn’t tell you. In fact, we weren’t even supposed to tell Laney, but your grandfather insisted.”

Grace’s eyes stayed fixed on her coffee. “Why couldn’t you tell me?”

“
It’s the rules.”

“
So you guys broke the rules to tell her, but not me? Obviously, the rules can be broken.” With the tips of her fingers, Grace twirled her cup on the table.

“
I didn’t—” Quentin began, but Grace slamming her hand on the table stopped him from finishing his sentence.

“
Grace,” her mother snapped. “This may be your house, but I am still your mother and you will stop being rude. We’re only trying to help you, trying to keep you safe.”

Grace stood from her seat, both hands flat on the table. “Mom, you’re right, this is my house…” ‘So get the hell out’ teetered on the edge of her tongue, threatening to fall from her lips, but she managed to bite it back. “But I shouldn’t be rude.” She looked Quentin in the eye. “Quentin, I’m sorry. I’m really tired and I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Avoidance had been working for her so far, and she decided that it would be the best choice for her tonight. “I’m going to bed.” She poured out what was left of her coffee in the sink, and put the cup in the dishwasher. A thick silence hung in the air as she left the kitchen.

Grace slid her finger along the wooden banister as she slowly took each step one at a time. She paused in front of her grandfather’s door, wrapping her hand slowly around the knob, willing herself to turn the handle. Not finding the inner strength, she relented, and rested her head against the coolness of the wood. She closed her eyes and lifted her hand to press her palm against the door, wishing the memories of her grandfather could calm her. “I miss you,” she whispered, and tapped her fingers four times gently against the door before she pushed away and continued down the hall to her room.

Seconds later, she collapsed on her bed, blinking hard against the burning that threatened behind her eyes. It was a hard thing to swallow learning that every adult she’d trusted, from the time she was a little girl, had lied to her in one way or another. She’d thought the day of her grandfather’s funeral was the loneliest she’d ever felt in her life. Boy, was she wrong. Curling into a fetal position on top of the bedcovers, she let go of both her brave front and her tears.

Quentin didn’t need to see her tears to know they were there. He felt each one of them fall. Every teardrop felt like a magnetic pull on his body. The pull so strong, he fought to stay put in the kitchen chair. She needed time and he needed to make sure their relationship stayed strictly Guardian and Chosen. Comforting her in the way he wanted would confuse his heart and mind even further. He rose from the table, walked behind his chair, and gripped its back so hard his knuckles whitened.

“
She’s right, you know,” he said to Laney.

“
How so?”

“
We never should have told you.”

“
Christophe thought it was the right thing to do and it was.” Laney pulled her chin up, meeting his gaze straight on.

The way Laney looked now, he could see where Grace got her stubborn resolve. “I’m not too sure it was. We’ve been keeping secrets from her since she was a little girl. It’s going to be hard to keep her safe, to keep her alive, if she doesn’t trust me and want me around.”

Quentin watched as Laney’s eyes narrowed into a threatening glare. “You’d better keep her safe, Quentin, because there’s nowhere I won’t go to hunt you down if anything happens to her.”

He met her eyes squarely as his lips twitched, knowing she wouldn’t find his amusement at all funny. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, but you don’t need to worry. I
will
keep her safe.” Stubborn resolve was one quality Grace got from her mother; the courage he felt from her was another. No matter how much these two women butted heads, the same strength of character ran through their veins, making them more alike than he knew either would ever want to admit.

“
Good,” Laney said as she stood. “Then you and I won’t have a problem. I’ll see you in the morning. I’m tired too.”

Quentin’s gaze followed Laney as she walked toward the doorway. Before walking out, she turned back to him. “She doesn’t trust either one of us now. We both have a long road ahead.”

“
I intend to do whatever it takes to gain her trust.”

“
As do I.”

Laney disappeared through the doorway, and Quentin remained behind his chair. He tilted his face toward the ceiling; Grace’s room was almost directly above him. If he closed his eyes, he could almost visualize her curled up on the bed. He breathed a sigh of relief when she finally cried herself to sleep, the echo of her pain heavily lying over his heart like a paperweight. It killed him to know she was hurting. If only he could be a dream walker for a day, he could give her the dreams she deserved for a night.

Slowly, he made his way to his bedroom—the one directly across from Grace’s. He paused in front of her door. Softly, he placed his hand against the wood. Every breath, all the soft pulses of her heartbeat, each tiny sleeping twitch resonated within him as if they were his own. Yes, his bond with her was stronger than with previous Chosen, but he wasn’t too sure if it was solely from the seneschal band anymore.