Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) (16 page)

His lips curved into a proud smile. “Yes, you did.”

“
Are you seriously suggesting he was part angel?”

Quentin gave Grace a guarded look. “Actually, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

She snorted. “Now that we got that straightened out, please continue.” She knew she was being snide, but her head was starting to hurt. It was about to explode from all of the information being shoved into it.

Uncertainty played over his features. “You’re sure?”

Her lips tight, she flicked her chin at him to keep talking.

“
Basically, since the angels divided, the Fallen want to harm the Guardians and the only way they can is by hurting the Nephilim. A Chosen, which is a special Nephilim, is charged with protecting something. In Christophe’s case, his bloodline has protected Pandora’s jar since her passing.” Grace quickly went through her mental Greek mythology Rolodex, trying to recall what she learned concerning Pandora. Remembering bits and pieces, she went back to listening to Quentin.

“
When the jar was given to Pandora,” he continued, “it held evil inside. But there was one little good thing in it too—hope. Pandora got curious one night and opened it, releasing all the bad. When she realized what she’d done, she closed the lid, sealing hope inside before it was lost. The Fallen want that jar. If they destroy it, they not only destroy all Nephilim, but all of mankind as well. Hope will be lost.”

Grace tapped her foot anxiously against the end of the lounge chair. Simply sitting there and doing nothing but thinking wound her tighter. Her nerves were dangerously close to snapping. Close to being unable to handle any more, the edge of hysteria ran through her limbs. None of this was logical, she thought. He’s crazy. What did he just say? “Were you just talking about the bank?”

“
Uh, yeah, is that okay?” She focused on watching his lips move as he spoke. “You’re even more special, Grace, because you’re a female Chosen. We’re going to have to be extra careful. We need to start your training as soon as possible so you’re ready for them if I’m ever not around.”

She jerked her body upright and swung her legs over the side of the lounge chair, almost touching Quentin’s. “Them who? Where exactly do you fit in with all of this, and what training?”

“
The Fallen, Grace. I’m a Guardian—your Guardian, in fact. The training is a form of martial arts.” His tone grabbed her attention. It almost sounded as though he felt pity for her, and the thought that he felt sorry for her spiked her anger.

Screw this! She wasn’t the crazy one. “Let’s get this straight. Angels came down and copulated with a bunch of women and made Nephilim babies? So which side of the copulating were you on, the marrying side, or the deadbeat side?” Quentin opened his mouth to answer her, and she stopped him with a raised hand. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. So, some of the angels became Fallen and the remaining became Guardian. For whatever reason, some Nephilim are born Chosen to protect something. The Fallen are after the Nephilim so the Guardians protect them. My grandfather was a Nephilim who was Chosen and he protected Pandora’s jar, and for some stupid reason left it to me. Now I’m Chosen and supposed to protect the jar so the Fallen, who are now after me, don’t get it and destroy everyone breathing. Did I miss anything?”

Quentin stayed silent. He just held her gaze.

“
This is all a joke, right? Where are the cameras? Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out from a bush and this little episode right here is going to be on
Punk’d
, right?”

“
Grace, I’m sorry.” He laid a hand gently on her knee. “I told you it was going to sound crazy.” Geez, she thought. Crazy wasn’t the half of it.

Unable to sit still any longer, Grace shot to her feet. “I don’t think we should talk any more. In fact, you should probably go. I’m tired and feeling a little overloaded, and I might do something crazy myself and call someone to come and pick you up and put you in a straitjacket. And I really don’t want to do that.” Not sure what she was feeling more—anger, confusion, sadness, or worry—she did her best to remain strong as he got up.

“
It’s going to be okay, Grace. I promise.” He turned away, and just like that, he was gone.

Watching him leave left another empty hole in her chest. The hole was dark and painful, making it difficult for her to breathe. She wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed. Forget about everything he’d said and just sleep. And if she was really lucky, maybe even dream of faraway places without jars and Chosen and lying grandfathers and uncaring mothers.

If only
.

When Grace woke the next morning, she was disappointed. Neverland never appeared. Come to think of it, she hadn’t dreamt at all. Her night’s sleep was just a huge black hole of nothingness. All she wanted was one simple happy thought to counter her sour mood and get her through the day. But she couldn’t even get that.

Frustrated, she threw her blankets back and stomped to the bathroom to get ready for school. Showering, primping, and dressing did nothing to lighten her mood. If anything, the mindless chore of getting ready gave her too much freed-up brain time. The additional time moved her from frustrated to plain ticked off.

Grace grabbed her school bag and a light jacket and stomped even louder to the kitchen. After her reaction the last time, it was no surprise to see Laney wasn’t making pancakes this morning.

“
Good morning,” Laney said.

“
Morning,” she grumbled back.

Laney raised her brows as she sipped her coffee. Setting the cup on the counter, Laney turned back around and pinned Grace with a questioning stare. “You okay? Did something happen after we talked last night?”

Yes
,
something happened last night, she screamed silently. Everything
happened last night and she wasn’t about to play a pretend game of mother-daughter with Laney. Not today. But she couldn’t say that to her. Heck, she was still floored she’d actually yelled at her mother the other night. And at Quentin. Oh yeah … and the lawyer. What the hell was going on
with her? She wasn’t this emotionally distraught girl.

“
No, nothing happened,” she lied. “Why do you ask?”

Laney’s gaze remained fixed on her for a couple of seconds before she dropped it to her hands. “Oh, I don’t know. You seem a little irritated. Like maybe something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it? You can talk to me.”

Like hell she could. “I’m fine.” Grace opened the refrigerator, pretending to scrounge for breakfast.

“
I was going to make myself some toast with strawberry jam. I can make you a piece or two if you want,” her mother offered.

Grace thought it would be better to play nice despite the fact she didn’t want to play Laney’s game. She muttered a “Yeah, thanks” and sat down on a barstool at the kitchen island. Grace watched her mother spread butter and jam on her toast, and continued to watch her even after she placed it in front of her. Laney was easily within arm’s length, tempting Grace to reach out and touch her to see why she was
really
being nice. But like always, fear made her keep her hands to herself.

“
You want some juice or milk?” Laney asked, pulling Grace’s gaze from her arm, back to her face.

“
I can get it.”

“
I know you can. What do you want?”

More than something to drink, she thought. “Juice is fine.” What she really wanted to say was, “What exactly is it
you
want, Mom?” But she chewed the words over with her toast and concentrated on getting through breakfast.

On the way to school, Grace was stricken with a sudden craving for coffee. Latté Da’s wasn’t that far from school, and luckily not busy. It was so empty that she was the only one in line. Patiently, she stood in front of the register, waiting to be noticed by someone. Apparently, they all went on a simultaneous coffee break. Either that, or they were just being rude. Waiting to catch one of the baristas’ attention, she glanced at her watch as they continued to chat about the new JB song. Class was going to start in twenty minutes. She couldn’t stand there unnoticed for too much longer. Irritated, she opened her mouth to speak.

“
Excuse me,” a male voice said from behind her. Curious, she twisted on her heel, and glanced over her shoulder. “Hi,” Darius said with that magnificent boyish grin.

Instantly, her stomach jumped and tumbled nervously. Her stomach wasn’t the only thing jumping. As soon as one of the little baristas saw him, she jumped in a single leap to the counter. And of course, only acknowledged him. “How can I help you?” she asked, her mascara-caked lashes flapping.

Darius’ head dipped toward Grace. “She was first.” The edges of the girl’s eyes and mouth pulled down as she scowled at Grace. Like she’d done something wrong.

Not entirely able to stop the hint of triumph that tugged on the corners of her mouth, she spoke around it. “I’ll have a sixteen-ounce Snickers with soy. Two straws.” She purposely left off the “please.”

Darius stepped up next to her. “And I’ll have a sixteen-ounce coffee, black. I’ll pay for them both.”

Grace’s gaze lifted to his. The fact she had to lift it at all was a huge plus. “You don’t have to pay for my coffee.”

He smiled as he stared back down at her. “I insist.”

A familiar warmth rushed up her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze to the counter. “Thank you.”

“
Anytime.” Anytime had her pondering other times. She sighed
.
This guy was trouble.

When her coffee was done, the hateful little barista simply put it on the counter, and diligently went to work on the black coffee. Yeah, that’s tough
,
she thought
.
Before Grace got completely out the door, Darius said, “Try to have a good day.” She smiled back; her day was definitely looking brighter.

The brighter day didn’t last long. The crappy mood followed her to school, to the parking lot at least. Grace parked the Shelby in its usual spot, close to the lot exit. If she’d learned anything from her three years at Woods Cross High, it was that it’s always easier and faster to get out of the parking lot from here.

The tension in her shoulders relaxed a little when she noticed Emily and Tommy waiting for her by the school’s front doors. Like usual, Emily looked ready for the runway. Tommy was her complete opposite. Everything about him appeared sloppy. His sandy hair looked like he just rolled out of bed. His shirt was partially tucked, and his surfer shorts hung loosely from his hips. If she didn’t know for a fact they were a couple, Grace wouldn’t believe they were together.

“
Hey, babe!” Emily yelled, her black hair swaying in rhythm with her waving hand.

“
Hi,” Grace replied.

Emily’s brown eyes curved with concern as she gave her a thoughtful look, her head tilted slightly to the side. “That bad, huh?”

“
Pretty much.”

“
You look like you could use a coffee.” Then Emily spied the cup in her hand. “Guess not.”

“
I could use something a little stiffer,” Grace said with a slight chortle.