Redemption: The Evolution of Grace: A Nephilim Urban Fantasy (Grace Gamble Trilogy Book 1)

by Sabra Kay

  “I'm calling you back, Chuck.” I answered, distracted while I scanned for mention of the bastard half-breed.

  Page one finally loaded, and the boards were full of reports highlighting the country's rampant cult problem and poking fun of the human’s obsessive insistence that the 'end times' were at hand.

  “Yeah, I know. Hey, you want to go to the shop? I just got off a job, and I need to restock. Luz has been asking about you.”

  I hadn't been to the shop since before I had been put on leave. “Okay, sure. Give me a little time to get ready, okay?”

  “Sounds good. I'll be there in a half-hour, how's that?”

  “That'll work.”

  I squinted as I rolled through the results. Gregory was listed as one of Blaine’s children. One of about twenty. He and his wife had five. The others were listed by name, along with the names of their mothers and any other siblings.

  Gregory Gibson, according to his bio, had given himself the last name. There was no name listed for the mother, but it did say she'd died in his infancy. He was financially supported by Blaine and lived in a swanky apartment downtown, but also had a place in Los Angeles, where he'd played in a few bands. He didn't have a job to speak of and was known to party with porn stars and models. He loved guns, guitars, and giant boobs, if the pictures were any indication.

  I looked at the clock and sighed. Research would have to wait. Brush the teeth, comb the hair, put on something presentable. I chose black pants and a gray button-down shirt. I even put on some makeup. The idea of asking Miles to put me back to work made me feel a little sick. Maybe that was from too much coffee and nicotine in my system and not enough food. I glanced at my phone again. Nothing from Harry. My heart sank a little, but I brushed the feeling aside. He would be fine. We would both be fine.

  I dug around in my cupboard searching for food. No Pop tarts, but I did find half a box of Frosted Flakes. The milk was gone so I ate them out of the box.

  Twenty minutes later, Chuck was in my driveway. I hopped in and he grinned and cracked his knuckles, which was like nails on a chalkboard for me. I turned down the stereo and glared at his hands. He shrugged and laughed under his breath. Chuck was a gregarious man by nature, even under the worst of circumstances, and Chuck was intimately familiar with the worst of circumstances.

  “Hey kid, you doing okay?”

  “Yeah, I'm okay.”

  He took a deep swig of his mug and swerved to avoid a jogger. “Whoops, that was close.”

  “Jesus, Chuck. You want me to drive?”

  “Hell no, Grace. I want to live.”

  “Yeah? So does that jogger.”

  He nodded, “Point taken.”

  “Hey, after hitting the shop, you mind swinging by Church?”

  “Why? What's going on there?”

  “I need to talk to Miles about getting back to work.”

  Chuck shook his head. “You aren't ready yet. You know that.”

  I clenched my fists but said nothing. His response didn't surprise me.

  He gave me a side-eye and went on. “You aren't okay to go back to work. You said you're still getting dizzy, still not sleeping right. And,” he eyed me cautiously, “you haven't addressed your issues. I just want you to be okay, okay?”

  “But I won’t be okay if I have to sit in that crap apartment, alone, one more day.”

  “You choose to live in that crap apartment, and you don't need to be alone unless you want to. That's also a choice. So is your drinking. And smoking. All choices.”

  “Fuck sake, Chuck, now isn't the time for a lecture.” Maybe it was time to turn the music up.

  “No lecture, kid, just a reality check. You're going to do what you're going to do, but when it comes to work, your decisions affect others. You know I'm here for you. You can tell me anything, and I wish you would. But if I think you aren't ready to get back on the job, I will tell you. That's being a friend. That's being family. That's what we are. If it pisses you off, so be it.”

  Chuck, the straight shooter. He was probably right, I wasn't ready, but that didn't mean I couldn't help. They needed me, and I needed to get back on the job. I was losing my mind.

  “I'm still going to ask.” I didn't look at him.

  Instead, I watched the traffic go by, cars slicing through rivers of energy, clouds of thoughts, their drivers oblivious to the hungry parasites feeding off their anger and frustration, and hopelessness. Occasional balls of light danced and swirled. The reality I saw when I looked at the world was nothing like what the average human saw.

  “Well, since you're insisting on talking to Miles, let's just park at the Church and walk to the shop.”

  I nodded. A walk sounded good and would help clear my head before talking to Miles.

  Chuck turned the radio back up, belting out classic rock tunes I'd never heard of. For an old guy, he had a lot of energy. He was wise in a way I wasn't, and as much as I gave him shit and pretended to ignore his words of advice, I heard everything he said. Chuck made me want to be a better person, although I'd never told him that.

  His phone buzzed in the center console. He glanced down and muttered something to himself. I tried to read the screen, but he flipped the phone face down. We usually talked shop more when we hung out, but he'd been pretty zipped up lately. I watched him quizzically, wishing he’d tell me what was going on.

  “More burnings. More possessed. And these goddamn parasites!” He cursed as a group of older teens bolted right into the street, their hitchhikers firmly affixed to them, just like their mobile phones.

  More parasites hovered amongst the clouds of fear and obsessive negativity, swirling, prodding, and caressing anyone in their path.

  “Sheesus. These kids don't pay attention.”

  We parked, stepped out of the car, and headed out of the church parking lot, going the opposite direction of the Grove. Two men in suits balancing Starbucks cups, briefcases, and phones strode by, thick with parasites, their thoughts swarming above them like thunderclouds.

  Late winter in San Francisco is a funny thing. It could be windy and frigid in the middle of summer and be downright balmy in January or February. Today was gray and still, and while it was still too chilly for my taste, it wasn't freezing.

  The streets were bustling with tourists crowding coffee shops, poking into boutiques and carting around bags filled with sourdough bread and kitschy souvenirs.

  A group of about a dozen tourists wandered in front of us, stopping every few minutes to take photos or peer into a shop window. There was no getting around them without stepping into the middle of the street.

  I plodded along, growing progressively more irritated, while Chuck beamed at each of them. He even stopped to wave at a toddler who was curiously eying him. There were no parasites among this crowd.

  Chuck gave me a nudge. “Relax, kid, enjoy the light.”

  “What light? I don't see it.” All I saw were shadows and parasites. The thick sludge of dark energy overtaking the city. I shuddered and pulled my zipper up to my chin, suddenly chilled.

  “You must not be looking for it then.” He said.

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Means just what I said. You find what you're looking for. If more people were looking for the light, they'd find it.” He looked at me and frowned. “I don't get you, Grace. You’re so obsessed with ridding the place of darkness, but yet you refuse to appreciate the light. You know, assholes like Blaine wouldn't be so powerful if people weren't so hell-bent on looking for darkness. You should know that. It's what gives him his power.”

  “Ignoring the dark doesn't make it go away.”

  “Maybe not, but ignoring the light to spite the dark won't do you much good, either.”

  We walked in silence as I mulled over his words. I tried to take his approach while we made our way to the shop. What if I didn't focus on the horror that surrounded me? I had control over so little, but I could stop dwelling on it for five minutes and enjoy the walk.
Enjoy the city. Enjoy the light. I spent the rest of the walk looking up instead of down and attempted to smile at a couple strangers. It felt weird and forced but hey, you have to start somewhere.

  We walked through the door and stood for a moment, waiting for our eyes to adjust to the light. The shop was narrow but went back farther than you would think, which made it feel more like a cave than anything else. The shelves were filled with candles, crystals, books, apothecary jars filled with herbs and incense. Behind the counter were mortars and pestles, larger crystals, incense burners, jewelry, and a display of tarot decks. Luz's daughter Jasmine was at the counter helping a middle-aged woman decide between some books.

  Luz was a talented mage and a medium and spent part of her day doing readings and channeling the spirit of loved ones and the other part of her days crafting magical items for sale. She was wise, talented, and quietly powerful. She was highly respected by those in the department who relied on her insight, her ability to communicate with the dead and her skill with developing potent protective aids, and what she called “power boosters.” They came in handy.

  The shop smelled of frankincense, and I took a moment to close my eyes and breathe it in. I had little interest in any of the new-age-y merchandise, but Luz's handmade magical products were top notch. She could weave magic into anything, and just being in her presence was healing.

  A tinkling sound burst from behind a curtain, then a darting ball of fur and tongue. Misty, Chuck's dog, barreled into him as he squatted down to greet her. She was a shaggy brown mop and had found Chuck shortly after he'd moved into the Grove, but he was gone traveling so much that Luz took over her care. Misty greeted me as well, pawing me and snorting in my face when I crouched to give her a scratch.

  “Good girl. Did you miss me?” The joy on Chuck's face over seeing his canine bff was endearing.

  Luz emerged from behind the curtain as well. The petite, slender woman in her mid-forties saw us and smiled, brushing aside her sleek, dark hair. Her copper skin was flawless save for the scar that ran from just under her left eye straight down to her jaw.

  “Ah, you came to see me, Grace! It's about time!” She laughed lightly and wrapped me in a quick hug.

  Her energy sent tingles down my spine, and despite everything going on, I felt an immediate sense of peace and joy. That was the “Luz effect,” as Chuck called it.

  “What brings you here, Chuck? Not that I'm complaining.” She embraced him next, a longer embrace than the one she’d had for me, followed by a light kiss.

  Chuck smiled and stumbled slightly sideways, and if I wasn't mistaken, turned a bit red.

  Luz grinned and looked at her shoes. Jesus, they are disgustingly cute.

  Luz and Chuck were the couple that made me think that maybe, just maybe, there was some hope for me. They had been through God knows what in their lives, but here they were, fumbling and blushing and carrying on like two teenagers in love.

  “Jasmine, mind the shop. We'll be in the back.” Luz motioned for us to follow her.

  We followed her behind the curtain and into the room she did her readings in, then through a door that led to a stockroom, past shelves bursting with crystals, tarot decks, bulk packaging, and boxes full of more merchandise. She had a makeshift office set up and a couple of extra chairs. She motioned for us to sit while she opened a mid-size, elaborately carved wooden box.

  “Here. Protection against fire. Three of them.” She handed him a package wrapped in brown butcher paper. “What else is on your mind? Something is weighing on you. Both of you.”

  She looked first at him, then at me. She stopped for a moment, holding my gaze in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. She'd never looked at me like that before.

  Most of Luz's serious magical items were custom-made, but she did have some generic items hidden away back here for her neph customers. Truth be told, I found other mage magic to be stronger. I mostly shopped here because it made Chuck happy, and if I was honest, it made me happy, too.

  I eyeballed some of her boosters. They were good. I had to admit it. Wearing them increased the users' strength, accuracy, pre-cognition, and focus. I motioned toward them, and she nodded. I could always use a little more oomph, as Darah put it.

  “Here, Grace. Take this, too.” She went to another box and pulled out a small pouch. “Wear this close to your skin to help with your dizziness.”

  I looked at her and cocked an eyebrow, then turned to Chuck. So, he'd told her about my dizzy spells.

  I accepted the pouch. “Thanks, Luz. I guess Chuck told you I was having some problems?”

  I shot him a look. I was a private person, and as much as I loved Luz, it irked me he was discussing my business with her.

  “Chuck is always trying to help, you know.” She smiled and handed me the pouch, but then her face went dark. “You know there is a dark witch in the area, yes?”

  Chuck nodded. I hadn't heard anything, of course, but I wasn't surprised. Dark witches were rare, but they happened.

  Demons had a love-hate relationship with witches because they alone had the power to conjure them up from the other side, setting them free on earth, but they also the power to send demons back to where they came from.

  When a witch allowed the other side to seduce her, all hell broke loose, literally and figuratively.

  “Things are getting worse out there,” Luz said. “It used to be the cambions you worried about, with the occasional demon. Now it's the other way around. How are so many of them getting through?”

  “It's not just that. The cambions are getting bolder. And the parasites are sapping free will, sapping the light. It’s like an invasion.”

  “That's the plan, right?” My hands tightened into fists.

  I was sure that demons like Blaine were planning world domination. Why wouldn't they be? Their lust for the physical world is what had driven them here and kept them here, and they always wanted more.

  Chuck and Luz nodded in unison.

  “We're so goddamn outnumbered.” He shook his head. “Too many of them, not enough of us.”

  There wasn't much to say after that. There were times it all felt futile. The exorcisms. Tracking down malevolent cambion and dark witches. There was an endless supply of them, and we'd become sparse and impotent in comparison.

  They looked at each other, then at me. I took the hint and headed back into the shop. Misty rushed me, and I gave her scratches and love while I waited for them to say their goodbyes.

  I glanced around the shop. Jasmine had a handful of customers clustered around a display of crystals asking which ones attracted love and money. She glanced over them at me and smiled, but her eyes ran over me much in the same way Luz's did.

  It made me feel uneasy, scrutinized.

  I moved toward the corner of the shop near the door. An elaborately carved fountain dominated the space. Water bubbled and flowed over the swirls and dips of the smooth stone. The sound lulled me into a peaceful state, and I nearly forgot that I needed a damn cigarette. Shit. All that relaxation almost screwed me out of my smoke break. I quickly stepped outside to light up before Chuck emerged. Next stop was Miles’ office. I knew Chuck didn’t want me to do it, but I was tired of waiting for the CDT to get around to calling me. I needed to take the bull by the horns and make something happen for a change.

  I stood on the sidewalk, watching people pass by. A group of goth-looking teens stopped in front, peering in the windows and talking pentagrams and candle magic. I laughed to myself. There were plenty of humans who thought they were practicing magic, but few truly understood it. Any human could become powerful, could learn to harness the energies, to project their will effectively, but a rare few succeeded. Even rarer were those born with the genes that allowed it to flow naturally, and powerfully.

  Chuck exited the shop and, when he saw me, waved his hand in front of his turned-up nose. “Put that shit out, let's go.”

  Nothing worse than an ex-smoker bitching about your smoke.

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nbsp; ***

  We left Luz's shop loaded up with goodies and lots of licks and cuddles from Misty. All the talk about dark witches, sacrifices, and increased possessions had me feeling worse about not being at work and worried about talking to Miles. What were the chances he would let me come back?

  I made my way to his office and stood for a moment, taking deep breaths, getting myself centered. I straightened my shirt and smoothed my hair, then raised my hand to knock. Before I could, the door opened.

  “Good morning, Grace.”

  “Good morning Miles, I just—”

  He stared down at me. “You look well today.”

  “Thanks. Uh, so do you.”

  Miles was middle-aged, which in nephilim years was ambiguous. He could be forty-five. He could be eighty. Nephilim aging and lifespans were a nebulous affair. Some aged just like a regular human. Some lived for two-hundred years.

  His close-cropped, raven hair was graying at the temples, but his deep brown eyes were lit up with energy and a mesmerizing warmth that could suck anyone in. Black-rimmed glasses and a tailored suit gave him a touch of nerdy refinement. I could see why Ayana was drawn to him. Born witches worked with nephs, but that was usually as far as it went. We both tended to stick to our own, or find nice, boring humans to attach ourselves to.

  He motioned for me to sit down. “You want a coffee?”

  “Sure, yeah.” I took a seat and marveled at his set up.

  If I ever got an office, it would be like this. Desk and chairs, cool. But a full-on coffee bar? Yes, please. He had an espresso machine with the fancy milk frothy-thingy, a mini-fridge stocked with fresh milk and creamers, a selection of flavored syrups, and a row of containers labeled SEA blend, Indonesia single-origin, Central America, and more.

  “What kind? An espresso? Coffee straight up?”

  “Surprise me.”

  I'd been in Miles' office a half dozen times over the last few months. This was the first time he'd offered me coffee.

  “Okay, single-origin pour over, coming right up. Nice, balanced roast, gorgeous beans.” He hit the grinder and spooned freshly ground coffee into a filter, then painstakingly poured boiling water over the grounds and into a massive ceramic cup.