"It's very bad. Divinely bad. Grams, I'm—" Rosalie let out a long breath. "I'm in trouble, and nothing in the world can help me."

  Grams reached across the little table and placed her hand on top of Rosalie’s. "It's your soul that's in trouble, Rosie. And you must take every precaution to save it."

  A chill swept over Rosalie, and she suddenly felt sick. "You know, don't you?"

  "I've always known."

  "And you didn't tell me? Why?" Rosalie suddenly needed air. Rather than wait for her grandmother’s response, she sprang from the chair and bolted outside.

  "Rosie, wait." Grams followed right behind her.

  But Rosalie didn’t stop until she reached the ancient tree in the front yard, with a tire on a rope suspended from one thick branch.

  Grams leaned against the oak, while Rosalie sat on the swing.

  "I kept the truth from you to protect you, Rosie. I had hoped you would be able to live a normal life. Not all Divine souls meet their destiny."

  Rosalie tilted her head past the rope to look at Grams. "I don't understand. How do you know?"

  Grams sighed. "Let me start at the beginning. I was told in a dream before you were born, the moment you were conceived, actually, the moment your ethereal mother, Eloa, bound you for all eternity to the Light Realm.

  "You were the most beautiful child and the kindest. You couldn't even step on an ant." Grams smiled, looking thoughtful.

  "Yeah, well that's all changed now. I killed a man."

  Grams gasped.

  "Or a demon, whatever. I shot him in the heart, and he disintegrated into smoke right in front of my eyes. I fell in love with an outlaw biker gang leader. I did heroin—even though I wasn't exactly willing."

  The excitement in Rosalie's voice escalated as she talked. "In one short week, everything in my life has changed. I'm not that innocent little girl anymore, Grams."

  A few moments passed before Grams spoke. "No, Rosie, you aren't a little girl anymore, but you'll always be innocent. Now, you're a demon slayer—your birthright. As much as it pains me to think of you that way, it is your destiny to be so. I shouldn't have thought otherwise."

  "No, you shouldn't have."

  But wait, what was she saying? If she'd known all along whom, or what she was, she might have gone to Nowhere purposefully to kill Steele. He might be dead now, at her hand, and she might never have had the chance to fall in love with him. In that moment, she realized Grams unknowingly did her a service by keeping the truth a secret. Perhaps it was all part of the Divine plan for her.

  "No, I'm sorry, Grams. You did what you had to do, and now I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

  "I think you know what is it you're supposed to do, Rosie."

  Somewhere in the trees, birds chirped their morning song, oblivious to the fact that demons and angels were battling each other for supremacy of their Earth.

  "I can't do it, Grams. I can't kill them. I've become too attached."

  "What about the one you love? Is he a neophyte?"

  Rosalie nodded.

  "And does he love you back?"

  Rosalie nodded again, fighting hard to suppress her tears.

  "Hmm. You do know his life's purpose is to kill you?"

  "I know, and he knows, but he would never do that."

  "Wouldn't he?"

  "No, Grams. He's been fighting against his own destiny to save me from the others. He's been trying to get me to leave since I arrived in . . . ah, at his place."

  "Does this place have a name?"

  "It doesn't matter. I just want to go back. Nothing else matters to me."

  Grams nodded. "Maybe there is something special about him, if he truly sent you away for your own good."

  It wasn't Steele who sent her away in the end, but he would have if he could have, so Rosalie decided there was no point in confusing Grams with meaningless details.

  "Why don't you stay here for a while, as long as you like. I'll call your mom and tell her you're home safe, and you need some time." Grams laid her hand on Rosalie's shoulder. "When the time's right, you'll know what to do. Now, whenever you're ready, there are things you need to know."

  Rosalie nodded but stayed on the swing a while longer, while Grams went back inside.

  Grams' house and yard had always been Rosalie’s place of peace. From the perfectly manicured square patch of front lawn, to the numerous gardens, most of which Rosalie had helped plant, her grandmother's home was the place she felt the safest. But despite the dangers, she longed to be back at the lodge. She closed her eyes and imagined the sound of the river flowing lazily by. She even imagined the sounds of the motorcycles rumbling up over the hill.

  * * * * *

  Grams didn't have a library of knowledge like Steele had, but she did have excerpts from the Book of Light welded to her memories. She spent the better part of the last four weeks teaching Rosalie everything she knew.

  Rosalie learned Eloa had been the angel in Grams' dreams, as well as in hers, and Eloa was the mother of her soul. She was disappointed to learn, however, that while demons had access to their world through a portal, angels had access to the Light Realm only through dreams and death.

  But what scared Rosalie most of all was that Grams told her she had been chosen to perform a great task, a task no other fledgling had ever been chosen to do. Rosalie couldn't imagine what that task might be, and Grams didn't know the details.

  * * * * *

  The first week in September, Rosalie began her freshman year in college. She wasn't surprised to see that her ex-boyfriend, Sean, and her ex-girlfriend, Haley, had hooked up. She didn't speak to either of them.

  One Friday night, she'd fallen asleep after a long evening spent studying. Eloa appeared to her. She told Rosalie her time with Grams was up, and she must return to Nowhere.

  When Rosalie awoke the next morning, Grams, having also had a visit from Eloa in her dreams, had Rosalie's things packed and a big breakfast awaiting her.

  "But, Grams . . . I'll miss you." Rosalie whined as Grams closed the car door on her. Rosalie had a strong feeling she would never see her grandmother again. She had finally fulfilled her duty as a fledgling's guardian, and now she was destined to die.

  "You'll see me again. I promise," Grams said, when Rosalie shared her fears.

  Rosalie looked her over one last time. Grams had her jogging sweats on and her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, ready for her morning run. She looked no more than forty today, Rosalie thought.

  "I have complete faith in you, Rosie. After you’ve accomplished your task, I want you to bring Steele for a visit. I'm that certain things will work out for you."

  "I love you, Grams." Uncontrollable tears spilled down her cheeks.

  "I love you too, and may the angels be with you."

  As Rosalie backed out of Grams' driveway, she felt as if she were off to join a war.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The butterflies fluttering in Rosalie's stomach felt as if they were on a caffeine buzz as she walked around the front of the lodge. A middle-aged man wearing jeans and a short-sleeved, plaid shirt drove a riding lawn mower, making circles around the stately oaks and pines in the front yard. She had wondered who groomed the property.

  The man tipped his cap to her as she walked up the steps to the deck. After jiggling the door handle, she discovered it locked. The lodge had never been locked during the time she'd stayed there. But that time, only a month ago, seemed like ages gone by. She lifted her hand to knock on the heavy wooden door, but it opened before her knuckles made contact.

  "Hello," said a middle-aged woman with a broom in one hand. "Can I help you?"

  Rosalie stared for a moment, taken off guard. "Um, I'm here to see Steele. Is he home?"

  "I'm afraid he isn't. You'll have to come back later."

  Rosalie took a step inside, forcing the woman to take a step backward. "I'll just wait for him here, if that's all right."

  "Actually, it isn't all right. I have strict orders from Steele and Lithium not to let anyone inside the lodge unless one of them is present."

  "But I'm Rose," she said, as if the woman should know. "Haven't you heard of me?"

  "Afraid not, honey."

  The woman half-closed the door, herding Rosalie back out onto the deck.

  "But . . . he'll want to see me."

  The woman stayed silent.

  "Can you call him, maybe?" Rosalie pleaded.

  The woman, still looking pleasant enough, took a cell phone from a pocket in her apron and punched in a number. Rosalie waited impatiently. Would he be angry at her for the interruption, or happy to know she’d returned?

  When the woman snapped her phone shut, Rosalie could barely breathe.

  "Sorry, honey. He's not answering. Try back a bit later."

  The door closed gently in Rosalie's face.

  Disappointed and angry, Rosalie stomped down the steps. She gave the man a quick glance, and he tipped his cap to her again. She let out a frustrated grunt and stormed off to her car.

  Although she'd scanned the clubhouse parking lot for Steele's motorcycle on her way to the lodge, she scanned it again on her way back. She wasn't comfortable enough to wait inside, so she kept driving.

  Several bikes passed her along the way, and some even honked as if they recognized her or her car, but none of them looked familiar to Rosalie—until she reached the general store in town.

  A familiar, silver motorcycle, with mini-ape handlebars, parked at the curb in front of a store. Several bikes she'd never seen before lined the street, as well. She pulled over to the opposite side and sat in her car, fretting about whether she should let Lexie see her before she found Steele. She definitely wouldn't receive a warm welcome. After waiting ten fruitless minutes for Lexie to come out, Rosalie went inside.

  When she opened the front door to the store, tinny-sounding bells crudely tied to the door handle greeted her. Except for a large guy who looked to be in his early twenties, who slumped in a chair watching a small, square TV, the store looked deserted. Rosalie really wished she'd stayed in the car now.

  Her nose twitched at the odors of sour milk and rotten produce as she approached the counter.

  The slovenly looking man didn't bother getting up.

  "Can I get you something, babe?" he asked.

  She resisted going behind the counter and smacking him, and instead said, "I'm looking for someone."

  "Oh, yeah?" He straightened slightly. His gaze slid to her chest. "I'm someone."

  "Hardly," Rosalie said under her breath, jaw clenched. With both hands, she squeezed the strap of her purse, wishing it were the slob's fat neck. "I'm looking for a girl."

  His decayed-tooth grin widened; the sight made Rosalie look away.

  Her gaze fell to the stains on the once white, too-tight muscle shirt he had skinned on over his flab.

  "Whoa, you're one of those, are ya? My girlfriend always says 'no one can please a woman like another woman'."

  Rosalie couldn't imagine him having a girlfriend. She glared at his still-grinning face, her patience waning.

  "Listen, creep, I'm looking for a skinny girl, slightly shorter than me with black and blue hair and lots of tattoos. Have you seen her?"

  At some point while she was fiercely engaged at getting her point across, the guy lost his grin.

  "Well, have you?"

  "Nope." The word was clipped. His tone had suddenly changed from offensive to serious.

  Rosalie rolled her eyes and turned to leave, when she heard a muffled yell coming from somewhere in back of the store. She glanced back to the slob, who sat staring at her, wide-eyed and pale as a sheet. His hand moved slowly toward something behind the counter.

  Remembering the weapons Grams insisted she bring, Rosalie reached inside her purse and pulled out a silver gun before the guy had a chance to grab whatever he reached for. She pointed the gun at him.

  Something hard hit the floor behind the counter at the same time as the man took a step backward. Shock distorted his ugly features.

  "Let me see both hands." She talked outlaw like a pro.

  Without hesitation, he raised them both in the air.

  "Now, step out from behind the counter."

  He came out and around to stand beside her.

  "Put your cell phone on the counter," she told him, guessing he probably had one.

  He dug into his front pocket, pulled out a phone, and tossed it on the countertop beside her.

  "Now walk." She gestured toward the back.

  When they reached what looked like a storage area behind the front of the shop, she saw a door leading outside.

  "Stop," she said. She pointed him toward the door, gesturing with her head. "Get out."

  He opened the door and stepped outside.

  Rosalie quickly set the two deadbolts in place, locking him out, and then ran for the front door. She locked that one, too.

  Arguing voices floated to her from the rear. One of them sounded like Lexie. At the end of a back hallway, Rosalie found a staircase leading down. As much as she tiptoed, the stairs squeaked anyway. To her relief, no one came to investigate.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and tilted her head as she picked out another voice—one that belonged to somebody Rosalie wasn't too anxious to see again. She turned, intending to go back up the steps, but the sound of Lexie screaming brought Rosalie up short.

  An adrenalin rush, amplified by the weapon in her hand, propelled her toward the noise. She burst through a wooden door, arms outstretched in front of her, gun in hand, just as Blaze had taught her.

  Three people met her gaze. She glanced from Blaze to Lexie, who looked as if she'd just been knocked to the cement floor. Surprise quickly changed to bewilderment on both women’s faces.

  "What the—?" Lexie began.

  Blaze straightened up and took a step away from Lexie.

  "Well, speak of the devil, or in this case, the angel," she said. Her grin, as always, was beautiful and edged with pure evil. "What can we do for you, Rose?"

  "Does Steele know you're here?" Lexie asked in a rush. She scrambled to her feet, brushing off the back of her jeans, and acting nonchalant, as if she and Blaze had just been roughhousing and nothing more.

  "What the hell is this, a family reunion?" A tall, good-looking, well-built man dressed in black—which matched his crop of curls—stepped out of a shadowed corner.

  "You might say that," Blaze said. "It seems as though we won't need that information from you after all, Lexie."

  The man's gray eyes lit up, and a tight-lipped grin formed on his hardened face.

  "Welcome, Rose. We were just to the point of torturing poor Lexie for information of your whereabouts when you so kindly walked in."

  "In case you hadn't noticed," Rosalie began with a slight shake to her voice, "I have a gun pointed at you, and its bullets happen to be laced with demon poison."

  A hint of surprise lit up Blaze's eyes.

  "That's right, Blaze, demon poison. You see, I spent the past month with my guardian, who taught me loads of shit." Rosalie couldn't help the shaky smile that lifted the corners of her mouth.

  "Now that just makes you even more dangerous, doesn't it?" Blaze said, her eyes wild with excitement.

  Lexie nudged Rosalie’s arm. Too preoccupied with Blaze to have seen Lexie make her way close, Rosalie jumped.

  "Shoot the bitch." Lexie mumbled out of the corner of her mouth.

  But Rosalie couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she pushed Lexie behind her and backed out of the room. "We'll be on our way now."

  Blaze laughed. "Oh, come on, Rose, pull the trigger. I know you know how."

  Rosalie had backed all the way into the hall. She slammed the door shut and practically pushed Lexie up the stairs.

  "Why didn't you tell them where I lived?" Rosalie yelled as they bolted up the steps.

  "Steele would've killed me."

  "But they were going to kill you if you didn’t tell them."

  Lexie didn't answer.

  She may have risked her life for Steele's peace of mind, and not to save Rosalie, but the result was the same. Lexie’s actions touched Rosalie’s heart. She had the chance to get rid of Rosalie once and for all, but she'd been willing to suffer Blaze's wrath rather than hand Rosalie over to the devil.

  When they reached the front door, two guys in Canyon Beast vests stood armed and facing her from the other side of the glass. A woman pushing a baby carriage turned to come into the store. One of the Beasts gestured with his gun for her to take off.

  Rosalie and Lexie ran to the back door. The creep Rosalie had thrown out earlier stood guard there, a sawed-off shotgun pointed at them.

  "Jesus, we're never going to get out of here," Lexie said, her voice shaking in a way Rosalie never heard before.

  "Does Steele know you're here?" Rosalie asked hopefully.

  Lexie shook her head.

  "Great."

  Rosalie plucked her cell phone from inside her purse and thrust it at Lexie. "Call him, fast."

  But Lexie didn't have time to punch in the second number before Blaze and the man from the cellar were behind them, pointing guns at their backs.

  "I'll take that," Blaze said as she snatched the phone from Lexie's hand.

  "Drop the gun, Rose. Playtime's over."

  With the barrel of Blaze's gun pointed at Lexie's back, Rosalie had no choice but to drop her weapon.

  "Now open the door," she said to Rosalie, once the gun lay at her feet.

  Rosalie unlocked the back door.

  Blaze shoved Lexie toward the opened door. "You're free to go, little sister. I need a messenger to tell Steele his precious angel has fulfilled her duty to the dark side."

  She pushed Lexie out the door and locked it behind her.

  Rosalie made a move to follow Lexie, but the creep grabbed her arm and pulled her back against him. He snaked his hairy arm around her waist, drawing her closer. She wanted to die. She wished Blaze would just get it over with and kill her now.

  Lexie looked at Rosalie through the glass. She looked as scared as Rosalie felt.

  "I'm sorry," Lexie said, and then she turned and ran.

 

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