Black Halo (Grace Series)

by S. L. Naeole

  “Don’t think that Sera is blaming you for this, Grace,” Ameila spoke up, rushing to contain the damage that she knew her mother had caused, already too late.

  I stepped away from her. “No. No one needs to make excuses for me anymore. I understand what’s going on. It’s not my fault that Sam screwed up all those years ago, I get that. I didn’t know then what had happened; I was completely innocent.

  “But I know now what should have happened but I still fought against him. I demanded my right to live when I had none to begin with. What happened to Graham and Stacy, to Katie and anyone else who’s been hurt by Sam is my fault and the only way this is going to end is if I end it.”

  I turned to look at Robert and Lark, their faces stricken by what they saw in my eyes, and I knew I couldn’t stay there any longer. There was no point. They were only going to keep postponing the inevitable. Lark couldn’t help it, it was her call, but Robert wanted me to leave him about as much I wanted to leave him, and I couldn’t let it go on for another minute more.

  Thankful that my thoughts were safely locked away, I walked slowly towards the front door, knowing that every eye in the room was on me, every thought focused on what my motives were and why none of them could hear what I was thinking about.

  “Grace…” Robert started.

  I shook my head. “It has to be this way, Robert. I’m sorry.”

  I left them all standing there, watching me as I left. I felt ridiculous as I walked down the driveway towards the gate, realizing that I wasn’t wearing any shoes, my shirt was torn at the hem, my jeans were full of holes, and my hair still tangled and slightly damp from my shower. All in all, I realized, I had just acted like…

  An impetuous, headstrong teenager.

  Whatever.

  There was no point left in staying in that house, filled with…people who were more concerned with their angelic reputations than they were with my friends’ lives. I needed to go.

  “You’re not going, alone.”

  Lark stood behind me with her arms crossed over her chest, the defiant expression on her face daring me to contradict her.

  “My place is with you,” Robert added, moving in front of me and gently placing his hands atop my shoulders. “If you don’t know that by now, let me prove it to you.”

  Those hands, those loving, wonderful hands of his moved from my shoulders to just beneath my arms as he lifted me up, our faces level. He looked at me with his intense, mercury eyes, the light inside them filled with promise that I did not want to accept and yet couldn’t help to do anything but.

  “You’re my life, Grace. Where you go, I go.”

  The flash of heat that made my very bones melt away, turning me into jelly in his arms came only an instant before his mouth closed over mine, and then I burst into a ball of white flame when I felt his lips urge mine to open. In that moment, in that blissful, serene and altogether wonderful moment of desire and fulfillment, I felt every emotion ever meant to coincide with love bury itself into my chest with every pounding beat of my heart, tattooing it with their permanence, and I knew that I didn’t want to give up this angel of mine. But I would. I had to, because of how I felt, because of how much he meant to me. Where I was going, what I knew was my end, that wouldn’t be his. That couldn’t be his.

  Robert pulled away, a deeply satisfied smile crossing his face, oblivious to the conviction in my thoughts. “So, you’re in charge now, Boss. What now?”

  I didn’t know what we were going to do next—I had no plans—but of one thing, I was certain.

  I was going to give Sam what he wanted, but it was going to be on my terms.

  THANK YOU, GOOD DOCTOR

  There was little going on outside of Stacy’s hospital room, the hallway empty of visitors due to the late hour. Robert, Lark, and I stood there in the cold, clinical quiet as I tried to figure out what was our next step in my planless plan.

  Robert had filled Lark in on Dr. Ambrose’s idea as we traveled, and though Robert had made it quite clear that he was still against the whole thing, Lark was as much for it as Ameila had been; perhaps even more so. But there was still the issue of Stacy’s parents, who both slept on the opposite side of the door, guarding their only daughter like the precious object she was.

  My mind—thankfully closed during the entire encounter at Robert’s house—was now open to the thoughts that flowed between the brother and sister. I listened as they discussed how to get Lark alone with Stacy for as long as she needed in order to find out if Dr. Ambrose was right, that Stacy did indeed have a “safe” inside of her mind that still held enough of Stacy’s memories to bring her back from this non-existence that she had been sentenced to.

  The Kims would do whatever we wanted them to do, but I don’t want to charm them into leaving Stacy alone with me. They’re going through enough without having me use my abilities against them.

  “I’ve got it,” I said out loud.

  “Got what?”

  “I know how to get you in there. I’ll try to get inside to see Stacy. That’ll cause enough of a commotion to get them out of the room—they hate me, blame me for all of this, so why not use that to our advantage?”

  Lark’s grin was wide and brilliant. “Excellent idea, Grace.”

  Robert bobbed his head once in agreement and then disappeared with Lark into a haze of black and white smoke, the dark wisps curling around my legs and ankles before trailing down onto the ground, hanging like a thin fog just outside of the doorway. I inhaled deeply, preparing myself for the onslaught that was about to come, and then knocked quietly on Stacy’s door.

  After a few minutes I knocked again, this time a bit more insistently. I heard the shuffling of feet and then the door pulled open, revealing a haggard Mr. Kim, his sparse hair lying in straggled threads across his scalp, dark bags hanging beneath bloodshot eyes. Had he had any sleep in the past two days?

  “What are you doing here?” he grumbled to me in an exhausted voice that wanted to sound more menacing than it did.

  “I came to see Stacy,” I replied, trying to hide the pity I was feeling at seeing this strong man so brought down.

  “You came to see her at three in the morning? Visitors aren’t allowed up here past eight. How’d you get up here?”

  “I snuck past security. I want to see Stacy; she’s one of my best friends and I care about how she’s doing.”

  From behind him, a deceptively diminutive woman appeared, her hair neatly braided and tucked into a bun at the top of her head, her eyes wide and bright with the renewed energy that only anger and indignation could give you. She started into me in a tirade of foreign words, words that I could not understand because they were in Korean, but words that I knew weren’t meant to be friendly in any way.

  Without a rebuke from her husband, Mrs. Kim continued on with her barrage of insults as slowly, the two of them pushed me away from the door with their voices alone. I backed up slowly, wanting to give Lark as much time as possible. Mrs. Kim took my hesitation as defiance and launched into an even louder rant, causing several doors along the hallway to open, patients and their family members coming outside to see the source of the screaming.

  With my back pressed up against the wall that ended my retreat, I had no choice but to listen as Mr. Kim translated what it was that Mrs. Kim had spat at me with more venom than I thought possible for a human being.

  “My daughter took pity on you and became your friend because she always had a good heart. She knew what those kids at your school were doing to you, what they were saying to you and she didn’t like it. She’s always been that way—too kind for her own good—but this time you brought your troubles onto her.

  “All the darkness that follows you, you brought it down on our daughter and now she will never wake up because of that, because of you. You are not welcome here. You are not wanted here. Leave, now. Go before I call security and have you thrown out.”

  I knew that they were right. Stacy’s friendship with me was the r
eason her parents were now stuck facing the decision to pull her off of life support, and why Lark was now in her room, trying to find some reason to help turn her into a monster.

  “I’m sorry,” was all I could say. “I’m sorry,” over and over again. My head fell into my hands, and I wept like a child being reprimanded. And I was. The only difference was that my guilt went beyond what the Kims could even fathom.

  And just like that, I was being embraced by Stacy’s parents, their woeful tears and forgiving sobs joining mine, and I couldn’t accept it. I stood there, unable to show them the gratitude I should have felt because I knew, even as they felt the immense weight of their own sorrow lift, that I didn’t deserve a single ounce of absolution.

  My eyes traveled around the hallway, too uncomfortable to close or look down at the two distraught parents who clung to me with their hearts pinned to their sleeves. I saw the crowds that had gathered outside of their doorways slowly disperse, making way for the burly security guard who stomped towards us with a conviction that belied his lengthy delay.

  He was followed by two nurses who nervously clutched the stethoscopes hanging over their necks, worried expressions permanently staining their faces with downturned eyes and mouths. As they neared us, I coughed in that awkward way that hints that something had changed, and not for the better. The Kims immediately released me and straightened up, turning to see where the trouble was coming from.

  “Do you belong here?” the gruff voiced security guard asked me, his hand resting precariously on his…radio.

  “Um,” I looked at the door to Stacy’s room, and then to the Kims. “I…”

  Mr. Kim nodded his head stiffly, as though that would be answer enough for the guard. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

  “Well, I don’t care if you do or not. It’s past visiting hours—this is a hospital, not a night club.” He grabbed my arm and yanked it roughly, forcing me to tumble forward, my face colliding into his chest and slicing my cheek on the metal tag that listed him as hospital security guard number four-hundred and eighty-six.

  The guard pushed me away, even as I pressed my hand against my wound, and cursed at me when he saw my blood on his white shirt, the red blotches spreading quickly on the absorbent material. “You stupid, clumsy b-”

  There wasn’t time for him to finish that last word. A strong, smooth hand was pressed against his throat, pinning him to the wall behind him while his feet dangled several inches off of the ground, one black shoe falling off to reveal a stained and hole-ridden sock.

  “What were you going to say?”

  The guard’s eyes bugged in his face as he looked at me and then at his captor, too afraid to speak.

  “I asked you a question.”

  The guard’s mouth opened just wide enough to spit out a quick “nothing” before he was released, falling to the ground like a sack of dirty laundry.

  “Y-y-you can’t do that. Th-th-that’s assault,” he coughed as his hands rubbed his aching throat with a plump hand.

  “I don’t really care what you call it. You were about to insult this young woman for daring to bleed after you injured her for simply standing here. Your job is to keep the staff and patients safe; does she look like she’s capable of causing any harm to anyone?”

  The guard’s eyes flicked to mine for a brief second and I watched as his head twitched ever so slightly, affirming what he’d been asked.

  “Good. Now, I want you to leave. Don’t come back to this floor unless it’s an emergency, and even then, only if you’ve been personally invited. If I see your face anywhere near this young lady or these parents, I’ll personally see to it that you’re fired.”

  “Yes, Dr. Ambrose,” the guard grumbled before picking himself up and stumbling back down the corridor, passing by a few straggling witnesses.

  With a heavy sigh, the doctor turned tired eyes to face us, the Kims having remained silent and observant this entire time.

  “I’m sorry about that, Grace, Mr. and Mrs. Kim. Sometimes our security can get a little overzealous and forget that they need to assess a situation before choosing a course of action. Unfortunately I think that that young man would have probably made the same decision no matter what.”

  Mr. Kim held out his hand and shook Dr. Ambrose’s offered hand. “Thank you, Doctor Bro, for helping us. I cannot say how much my wife and I appreciate your help, in all things.”

  Dr. Ambrose shook his head and sighed. “I only wish I could do more.”

  “We understand. My wife and I know that you tried everything you could to help our daughter. I could teach her how to fight those who would pick on her because of who she is, but I couldn’t teach her how to fight against the cancer. You helped her to do that. It’s just a shame that she did not have enough time to master that, too.”

  “So you’ve come to a decision then?” The doctor’s face was subdued, but I could see the worry in his eyes as he sent a quick glance my way.

  This was one of those moments where being able to read minds would’ve come in handy. But then, I knew what he was thinking. I didn’t have to read his mind to know that he was wondering if Lark had found some sign of life in Stacy. He wasn’t asking the Kims if they’d made a decision because he genuinely wanted to know. He was asking to give Lark more time.

  “We will talk to our sons tomorrow, but yes, we have made a decision. We cannot watch our daughter—once so healthy and strong—grow weak and thin in her bed like a plucked flower. She wouldn’t want to live like that.” Oddly, Mr. Kim’s voice was filled with pride as his wife nodded her agreement. “She fought very hard, but now it’s time for her to rest. She deserves to rest.”

  “We will make the arrangements after you’ve discussed this with your sons then,” Dr. Ambrose said to them, but I knew that his words were meant for me.

  Was he saying this because Lark had gotten word to him from inside the room? Did she find what she’d been looking for? I looked at him with imploring eyes, wanting him to be able to see my thoughts written on my face as clearly as I could see them on his.

  And then there it was: A small twitch at the corner of his mouth, the slightest of movements that went completely unnoticed by the Kims as they discussed their plans for Stacy’s body and the funeral arrangements to follow.

  I felt a surge of hope flood my heart and I struggled to keep a smile from forming. Fearing failure, I clamped my hand over my mouth, relaxing my clenching cheeks and allowing the ecstatic grin that stretched my mouth wide to reveal itself beneath my fingers.

  “Well, it’s late, Grace. I suggest we leave the Kims to spend this last night with Stacy alone.”

  I nodded my agreement, tucking my smile away and pulling my hand down to offer it in condolence to Stacy’s parents, who looked at me with what I surprisingly realized was remorse.

  “We are sorry, Grace, that you could not spend the last of Stacy’s days awake with her. We will regret that for the rest of our lives. She always defended you as a loyal, caring, and humble friend. I’m sorry that we did not see that until it was too late,” Mr. Kim said to me, rejecting my hand and instead pulling me into a hug that felt so familiar in its strength. I was flooded with my first memories of Stacy, how she hugged me without a care to what I or anyone else thought.

  When Mrs. Kim’s arms also encircled me in that same, strangely strong and yet endearing manner, I laughed. “You hug just like Stacy,” I said to them in explanation when they both pulled away, shocked at my tiny outburst.

  “Oh. Well, we might not look like friendly people, but we are,” Mr. Kim said with an understanding smile.

  Mrs. Kim patted my hand and said to me in rough English, “You’re a good girl. Stacy has good friends.”

  “Thank you,” I said to her softly, ignoring the sting of guilt and doubt that contradicted her words in my chest. With a small wave, I followed Dr. Ambrose down the hall towards the elevators. He pushed a button—I don’t think he really noticed which one he was pressing—and remained silent as we
waited for the doors to open, stepping in together when they did. Once inside, he pressed the button that would take us to the highest accessible floor, never saying a word until the doors opened and we exited.

  “This way,” he said in a low voice, walking with determined steps down a dimly lit hallway, leading towards a wall of windows with one solitary door that stood in the middle, already partially open to the darkness that shrouded the city outside.

  I followed him onto a large, cement balcony. It was littered with cigarette butts and ashes, and smelled foully of urine and mildew. I held my nose and waited for Dr. Ambrose to speak again as we walked towards a far corner where a round, plastic table stood.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white cloth, handing it to me. “You should clean up your face before Robert arrives.”

  “I thought you were, how did you put it again, ‘sober’. Does even a little blood make you uncomfortable?” I asked as I dabbed at my cheek, wincing at the sting that I received despite the soft cloth.

  “Your blood doesn’t bother me, Grace. My kind aren’t ravenous creatures who go crazy at the smell of blood. We’re not vampires. The smell of blood, the sight of it, it’s all inconsequential to us. Besides, we prefer the flesh of humans. We can survive on blood, yes, but it isn’t desirable. Unfortunately, many don’t have the same opportunities as I do at procuring bagged blood, and so they feed on animals. If you think we are ugly in our natural form when we feed on human flesh, you should see us after feeding on wild dogs or rats.”

  I looked at him and tried to swallow my disgust at the idea of consuming rats. “Will Stacy…”

  “Stacy will be fine. I’ll prepare a supply of blood for her so that we can stave off the hunger long enough for her to complete her transformation, and my wife and I will then work on helping her to recognize the signs-”