Marked for grace, p.28
Marked for Grace, page 28
Her stomach twisted. She’d kept the thought of cutting Gideon out at bay, but the reality of it was hard to swallow, especially when it smacked her in the face. Every defiant cell in her body stood at attention. But his words about the strata of punishment kept knocking around inside her head, quieting the bitter comments at the tip of her tongue.
Ben’s eyes shifted to her. “Either way, it’s over now.”
A white church came into view before they passed under an archway with stone walls that rose on either side. It funnelled them toward a closed, heavy metal gate. A sensor in Ben’s vehicle beeped then triggered it to open. They drove into a courtyard surrounded by several brick buildings. Statues of angels dotted the perimeter, their wings and arms spread wide. Ben parked and a cascade of blinding flood lights flicked on, lighting the area like the sun.
Another wave of pain took her, and she winced as they climbed out and he led her into the central building. Compound wasn’t a strong enough word for the place. Prison would’ve sufficed.
“You look tired.” He brushed her hair back from her face, and she fought not to flinch. “Let’s get you to bed.”
There was something in his tone, an edge, or an eagerness, she couldn’t tell. She took a half-step back. “I’m fine.”
“Rodan said you need rest.” Taking her hand, he led her down the hall to his room.
The walls were an aggressive shade of salt-lake blue, while the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room wore a black comforter. The curtains were fire engine red, and the white furniture covered in chips and dents. It looked every inch a bachelor pad.
He closed the door and shut them in.
Her throat tightened. “I’m still pretty sensitive. I should probably sleep alon—”
“I’m staying.” He smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you, Grace.”
Her gaze darted around like another option might present itself. It didn’t. His hands landed on her shoulders, then pulled off her coat and set it and her purse on the floor in the corner. Grace clutched her arms as she headed fully clothed for the bed.
He forced a laugh. “You’re wearing that?”
“I don’t have any nightclothes.”
His brows rose, slow, calculated. “Then don’t wear any.”
“Ben,” she growled because that was not on the table. She was a mess on every level, so sex was a hard pass. Pulling back the covers, she climbed underneath and drew her knees to her chest.
He stripped off his shirt, and her eye caught the Mark above his elbow. A gold sword sat at its center, its gilded metal shimmering. His weapon. The room went dark, and the sheets lifted as he set himself down behind her, then moved tight to her back. He slid an arm around her waist, rested his palm against her stomach, and splayed his fingers wide. She tensed.
“Just try and relax,” he said, mouth against her ear. His hand moved up and skimmed the underside of her bra. His lips pressed against her neck, his tongue flicking out as his breath brushed over her. Gripping the edge of her shirt, he started to lift.
Her heart leapt into her throat, and she grabbed his forearms. “No, Ben.”
His hard length probed her backside. “It feels good, Grace. I promise, it’ll help.”
“I said no.”
He drew in a deep breath, the kind someone did when they were agitated and trying to control it. Every warning bell in her body went off, screaming at her to get the hell outta there. Oh, God. What had she gotten herself into? And how was she gonna leave?
His hand slipped to the hem of her pants and dipped under.
Her thighs clamped together as the walls around her closed in. She’d pegged him all wrong. God, how had she pegged him so goddamn wrong? She hadn’t seen anyone else on her way in to call for help, and feeble as she was, running wasn’t an option. Her new daggers were in her purse across the room, but she had no idea how to use them. What could she do? What could she say?
“I’m bleeding!” she blurted out.
He froze.
She stared straight ahead. “I’m sorry. Believe me, I want this too, it’s just not a good idea tonight,” she said, the lies like acid on her tongue, but she’d welcome that burn if it got him to stop.
He was quiet for several seconds before he removed his hand. “I just wanted to make you feel better.”
“I know. We’ll do it soon, I promise. Right now, I think I just need to sleep,” she said as her voice quavered.
“Soon,” he agreed.
She struggled to keep her breath steady and tears pricked the backs of her eyes before they slipped free, falling into the darkness where no one else could see. Alone, she was so alone.
Chapter 33
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Seven moved quickly down the hall. He needed to contact the Primary, something that wasn’t possible while being followed. He’d evaded the woman all night, but she was relentless, and her eyes tracked him like the predator she was. Stalking. Seeking. Wanting.
She trailed about twenty feet behind, lurking around corners while she waited for the opportunity to pounce. He’d pretended to be occupied by his charts in hopes she’d assume he was busy and move on, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who gave up on a hunt. Sick of the games, he decided to rip off the bandage and get it over with. He stopped. She made her move.
“Dr. Brookes,” she called, feigning surprise.
Rodan forced a smile. “Dixie.”
She set the forms she held down, propped her hip against the nurse’s station and offered him the full weight of her oppressive attention. “You’re a hard man to track down.”
“Things have been a bit busy tonight.”
“That they have.” She took the length of her ponytail between her fingers and stroked it in a suggestive manner. Her lips parted like she was about to say something, and he had no doubt what direction that would go.
He cleared his throat, bit the bullet, and took control. “I spoke with Grace—”
“Your friend must be a strange guy to date someone like her,” she scoffed. The words dripped with the bitterness of a woman scorned. “I saw her down in the morgue the other night.”
He furrowed his brows, his interest piqued. “What was she doing?”
“I don’t know, but with everything going on around here, it made me suspicious. Like, the hospital’s under investigation. How dumb can she be?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I have half a mind to report her.”
And here he’d thought Dixie would be a problem, instead she’d gone and presented herself as a solution. He smiled to himself while his stare slid over her, taking her in with new eyes. Grace had practically gift-wrapped her for him. Oh, how the tables had turned.
Regardless of how his conversation with the Primary went, he needed to shore things up with Grace and ensure the problem she presented was rectified—one way or another.
“I apologize for taking so long, Primary. I couldn’t reach you,” Rodan said as he sat on the edge of his bed at the compound.
“The fault is not yours. Word has passed quickly through the Shepherds. I had to lay low to avoid suspicion,” he said. “What have you learned of the girl’s origins?”
“The mother was a Shepherd.” His hand clenched into a fist. “I suspect the name she gave is fake.”
There was a long pause. “Is that all?”
His pulse kicked up. “No. Grace figured out what the Claimed can do and shared it with the Agent, Elijah. He’s made a request for the Revenant Archives.”
“Have they discovered the Claimed Mark’s source?”
Rodan rolled his ring until the brand appeared. “No.”
“And is there suspicion over where the souls have gone?”
He shook his head. “Not as of yet.”
The Primary’s voice grew harsh. “The woman’s awareness has become problematic. She needs to be dealt with.”
“Respectfully, Primary, should we still be proceeding with the plan? Eliminating Crawford won’t change what the others already know.”
“No, it won’t. But they can’t defend against what they can’t see. We were aware our work would draw attention sooner or later. It just so happened to be sooner. Nonetheless, the girl could be used as a weapon against us, so she’s an issue that must be addressed. We need to act.”
“Of course,” Rodan agreed.
“She’ll be weaker on her own.”
“Yes, Primary.” He smiled. Finally, he’d be done with Grace and the wrench she’d thrown into their progress. “If you’re ready, I know exactly when she’ll be alone tonight.”
There was a dark smile in the Primary’s words when he said, “I’ll send what’s needed.”
Chapter 34
Grace
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.
