Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) (52 page)

The grunting and scuffling started before Grace even got the door closed. She ignored them, left them to beat each other to a bloody pulp if that’s what they needed to do. What she needed was a break … from them, and life. Life surely wasn’t going to leave her alone. She prayed that they would.

A couple of hours passed before Grace’s stomach finally settled enough to eat. She wandered through the house and found Amanda watching television in the family room. “Are you hungry?” Grace asked.

Amanda glanced up at her and smiled. “Starving.”

“
I’m making myself a sandwich. Do you want one?”

“
Sure, thanks,” Amanda said, and went back to her show.

Grace slapped together a couple of sandwiches, threw some chips on a plate, and headed back into the family room with dinner. She put the plates on the coffee table before sitting on the edge of the couch next to Amanda.

Amanda shot her a grateful smile before snagging one of the sandwiches. “Yum,” she murmured, one of her cheeks full of sandwich.

Quietly, the girls ate their dinner. Noticing the time, Grace changed the channel from whatever show Amanda considered entertainment to
Grimm
. Amanda whined, went for the remote, then paused mid-complaint to see what Grace had selected. “Oh, I love this show.”

“
I know, right?” Grace focused on the television, pondering whether there was anything to the show. A few months ago, she didn’t know about the existence of angels and demons, and now she wouldn’t be surprised if there were Grimms and werewolves. It was both mind-blowing and scary as hell.

Quentin made an appearance close to the end of the show. He didn’t actually appear,
per se
. It was more like whizzing past the family room in a blur. The condition of his face didn’t go unnoticed by either Grace or Amanda. “Uh,” Amanda said. “What happened to his face?”

Grace hadn’t seen Quentin since she’d left him and Darius outside. But she knew what happened. She got a sick satisfaction from seeing the split in his lip and swollen right eye. She visualized Darius sporting something of the same, and shrugged. “No clue.”

Call it a sixth sense, premonition, omen—whatever
—
Grace knew she needed to listen to it. Restless and unable to sleep again, she threw the blankets back and got up. Quietly, she tiptoed down the stairs, and snuck into the office. The foreboding tingled along the back of her neck, raising the tiny hairs on her arms.

Pandora’s tiny voice murmured in her head. Slowly, she made her way down the passageway, making sure to give the angel torch sconces time to light her way. She reached for the crevices with a finger out of habit, tracing the lines all the way down the walkway like she always did. Apprehensive about going into the gym right away, she pressed her ear against the door, and released the breath she was holding. A gnawing in the pit of her gut told her this sneaky rendezvous needed to be covert. Which meant no Guardian.

Grace walked on tiptoe and entered the hidden living room. The light was on above the stove, making her wonder if Quentin was down here, or if the light was always on. She didn’t move; she listened. After a few too many minutes of holding her breath and listening, she was pretty certain no one was there.

Grace went through the usual security steps to get into Pandora’s room, and as usual, she stood apprehensively on this side of the laser-beam walk. She really needed to put in a request to change this part of security. Summoning all of her Chosen speed, she was next to Pandora in a blink. Placing a hand on the glass case, Grace strained to listen. She kept hearing, “Out, now. Bag.”
But she didn’t really
hear
it. It was all in her head. And it was completely … creepy.

She pushed the release button, and the Plexiglas case slid down into the stand below. Grace hadn’t touched Pandora since she’d brought her here, and didn’t know what to expect now.

Out, now. Bag.

Okay
.
Grace picked up the unusual container carefully and inspected it for a moment. Holding Pandora was no different than the first time. Well, except now there was nothing popping at her from the face of the vase. Grace eyed the end of the hall, and then Pandora. She took a deep breath, wrapped her arms securely around the vase, and ran almost as fast as she could to the safety of the walk-in closet. Totally relieved, she gaped at the case at the opposite end of the hall, exhaled, then leaned over on one leg and pushed the release button.

Grace made sure the door was securely shut before retrieving the backpack her grandfather had left her. She had a feeling it was the bag Pandora referred to. Once Pandora was zipped inside, Grace could have sworn she heard her sigh. Shaking her head, Grace slipped the backpack’s strap over her shoulder and walked back to the passageway. From the cracked open office door, she peeked out into the hallway and heard nothing. All was quiet.

Silently, Grace made it back to her room. She dropped the backpack from her shoulder and placed it next to her school bag, and instantly felt the anxiety leave her limbs. She crawled back into bed, unable to stop yawning. As her body settled into the mattress, she felt like she could sleep now for the first time without issue.

Finally.

“
What the hell?” Quentin felt lightheaded, as if someone had slipped him a roofie, even though he knew that wasn’t possible. He twisted his body, looking for threats in every direction through the black-tinted windows of his car. Not seeing anything that should concern him, he settled down and ignored the sensation, resuming his surveillance of Grace’s school. It wasn’t until the wavy transparent lines danced before his vision that he knew.

He was being summoned.

“
Christ … now?” Frantically, he reached for his phone. He had to warn Grace he was going to be gone, and didn’t know when he’d be back. She needed to go home—now. The phone fell through his grip. It was too late. “No!” He slammed his fist into the steering wheel, but his sudden lack of solid form caused the fuzzy image of his fist to go right through it.

A sense of calm washed over him as his vision went hazy, and every molecule in his body scattered. A second later he was standing on the marble floor of the Consulate. Once the home of the Watchers, now the Consulate was lodging for the Tribunal, hovering between heaven and earth.

“
Hello, Quentin,” a female voice purred behind him. Wincing, he spun around. Her voice raked painfully over his eardrums. She might as well have jabbed a pencil in his ear canal; it would have been an equally agonizing welcome. “It’s great to see you,” she continued, and waited expectantly for him to respond.

He focused his gaze on the point of her heels, and felt for his blade at his waist. His shoulders sagged. Since no weapons were allowed here, he was left to his own devices. Quentin glared at her as he responded reproachfully, “Wish I could say the same.” Once upon a time, he had cared for this woman. All that had changed the day he realized she wasn’t who she pretended to be.

His blade hand fisted as he dropped it away from his side. Quentin quickly assessed his surroundings. Now he was pissed. If she had anything to do with this, he’d personally send her on the next train for hell. Pinning her with the fury of his glare, he tried to calm himself. “Why am I here, Chloe?” Quentin watched as her lips pressed into a hard line.

She stood at her full height, throwing her shoulders back. “Oh, don’t play innocent. Not this time.” She started walking away, but he stayed planted where he was. With a hand on her hip, she glanced back at him. “Coming? The Tribunal’s waiting.”

As he followed, he couldn’t help but notice the way her dress hugged all of her feminine curves. Angel
.
Quentin let out a cynical chuckle. “Yeah, right,” he mumbled under his breath.

“
Excuse me?” Chloe said, whipping around, blonde hair flying around her head like a Chinese star.

“
Nothing. Can we get this over with?”

“
Fine.” She trotted even faster.

She was lucky he didn’t have his blade with him.

The same odd, prickling sensation crept along Grace’s skin while she sat in class. She couldn’t shake it. Several times, she had to struggle to stay in her seat. In her gut, she knew something was coming. She could feel it in her bones. All she wanted to do was grab Pandora and run. The only thing keeping her in her seat now was Pandora’s insistence on not being pulled from the trunk this morning.
No
. Outside the back of her car, that’s all Grace heard.
No.

Not one for being told what to do, it took every ounce of strength she had to walk in the school, and not defiantly to the trunk of her car. She knew the school was devoid of other Guardian and Nephilim; those she would be able to feel, and they were nowhere around. What she could feel was more like an impending doom cloud that loomed over her, following, waiting. If the danger she sensed was from the presence of Fallen, she wouldn’t be able to sense them. That’s what worried her most. Several times she glanced at her phone, wondering if she should text Quentin to make sure everything was okay. If something was wrong, Quentin would let her know, and he hadn’t. It was a struggle, but Grace pushed her worries aside and put her phone away, turning her attention to infinite limits—the calculus lesson for today.

After class, Grace met up with Amanda at her locker. “Hungry?” Amanda asked, looping her arm through Grace’s.

“
I can eat a little.”

Amanda gave her a sideways glance. “What’s up with you lately? You’re hardly eating, you’re always stressed, and the circles under your eyes tell me you’re not sleeping too well either.”