Grace of Day - BK 4 of the Grace Series

by S. L. Naeole

  “Is it my grandfather?” Robert looked at Mrs. Mayhew with as cold a gaze as I’d ever seen from him. She didn’t have to nod for him to know what the answer was.

  Stacy pulled her hair into a ponytail. “Well, I wasn’t planning on feeding until the morning, but I’m gonna do it now. If there are two-hundred creeps coming this way, I’m gonna need my strength.”

  I grabbed her arm before she could leave. “No, Stacy. This isn’t your fight.”

  She pulled my hand away and jabbed her finger into my chest. “Listen, I’ve been pissed off one too many times by this guy and now he’s turning people in my neighborhood into…well, who knows what he’s turning them into, but it’s not because they asked for it.”

  “I don’t want him to kill you!”

  “I’m already dead! He took away my family, he took away my future, and now he’s doing it to innocent people and you can’t tell me that I don’t have a right to stop that.”

  “God, Stacey, you still got your family. Sean knows you’re alive. Do you want him to lose you twice? Ask my dad what that feels like if you think Sean can handle it.”

  Her jaw clenched, her breathing growing rapid and hard, like one of those trains you see in the mall during Christmas. Huffing and puffing, she headed towards the door.

  “Stacy…please.”

  She stilled, and stubbornly turned around. “I’m going, Grace. But I won’t go without you. We do this together or none of us do it.”

  It was as good a compromise as I was going to get, so I lowered my head in acceptance. “Good. I’m going to feed. I’ll be back in an hour,” she said before disappearing out the door.

  “Ugh, what did I do?” I groaned.

  “Nothing. You were trying to be a good friend,” Dr. Bro said with the tone that sounded a lot like my dad’s.

  “A good friend doesn’t let one of their best friends get involved in something that could kill them.”

  “You’re right, but a good friend also doesn’t doubt a friend’s ability to help, either.”

  Mrs. Mayhew headed to the kitchen, kneeling down in front of the sink and pulling open the curtains that covered the pipes below. She climbed in, far deeper than it looked possible, before emerging with a large book in her hands.

  “This is it,” she exclaimed with a humph.

  “What is it?” I asked as I took in the dusty cover and the innumerable pages.

  “Every creature, every angel, and every rightfully turned human to live in Ohio has their name in this book.”

  “Are you gonna add another two hundred names?” It didn’t look possible to add even one more name in the already straining book.

  “They’re already in there,” she said, bored. “Their names, their designation, their maker have already been documented and cataloged. The book keeps record of every name that passes through my thoughts.”

  “So what are you going to do with it?”

  She opened the book, which seemed to settle on its own at a specific page. “I’m preparing it.”

  “For what?”

  The question wasn’t much of one, but the answer…that was a different story.

  “To be destroyed.”

  My mouth fell, but I appeared to be the only one who looked shocked by what she’d said. “If that book contains what you say it does, then why do you want to destroy it?”

  Grim faced and without any sarcasm, she replied, “Because by this time tomorrow, most of these names will no longer exist in this book.”

  I looked at Robert, at every face that I could see, and I knew that this wasn’t an exaggeration. “All those people?”

  Mrs. Mayhew put the book on the kitchen counter and then touched a hand to her hair, smoothing it out before walking towards the front door and opening the closet there and retrieving a jacket.

  “Come on, Ambrose,” she said with a renewed vigor. “Let’s get started.”

  “Started? Where are you going? You’re just going to leave that book there? Out in the open like that?” I asked, panicked.

  “Yes. The counter’s marble, so no damage will be done to the house,” she answered with a shrug. “Oh, and I’m going to get you some help from those we can trust.”

  “How? How do you know who we can and can’t trust?”

  This time she smiled, the warmth of it reaching me despite the distance between us. “Because I’m the registrar, silly.” And then she and Dr. Bro were out the door, disappearing like Stacy to who knows where.

  “What are we going to do, Robert?” I asked, still facing the door.

  “We’re going to pretend that the world outside will wait for us. We’re going upstairs, we’re going to forget everything for a few hours except that we love each other, and you’re going to keep your promise to your dad that you’ll be here in the morning when he wakes up.”

  “Is that it? Is that all we’re going to do?”

  He picked me up and stepped quietly towards the stairs, allowing me a glimpse of Lark and Graham snuggling, Graham oblivious to everything except his wife’s presence. “If you mean rather than get worked up over the inevitable, I’m taking you to bed then yes. If you’re wondering if all we’re going to do is go to bed then no.”

  I flushed at his words, and buried my face in the crook of his neck, trying hard to keep both my anxiety and my excitement from bursting out into what would have most likely been an unattractive squeal.

  “Make the most of it,” I heard Lark say from the nest she made in Graham’s arms.

  THE LAST TALK

  We didn’t sleep. I don’t think anyone really did except for Dad and Matthew.

  Robert and I spent most of the night talking, laughing, crying…wishing. When the sun rose and the sounds of movement in the house became too loud to ignore, we finally said goodbye to our peace and walked together downstairs for breakfast.

  “Good-morning, you two,” Dad said as he stood in front of the stove. “I’m making pancakes and ham for breakfast. Matthew’s ready for a change, I think—could you help me out, Robert?”

  Robert looked at me and then at Dad, and finally at a pinched-face Matthew. “Uh…I don’t-I don’t know-”

  “Oh, everything’s in the diaper bag upstairs. He’s made a mess—I can smell him from here—so you might have to bathe him.”

  The look on Robert’s face showed one of fear and uncertainty, and I laughed because I’d never seen him look that way before. “Go on,” I told him. “He likes powder on his bottom after a changing, too.”

  “You’re enjoying this,” he said with mild annoyance.

  “Actually, yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because considering how long you’ve been alive, seeing you look so petrified over something as simple as cleaning a baby is pretty funny.”

  His mouth puckered as his annoyance grew more pronounced, but he walked over to Matthew’s carrier and picked up the baby, holding him out at arm’s length when he inhaled the smell that Dad had warned him about, his nose wrinkling as a result. “This should be considered cruel and inhumane,” he noted.

  “Well, you’re not human so just hold your breath,” I laughed.

  With their confusion-filled eyes locked onto one another, Robert took Matthew upstairs to be changed.

  I peeked in on Graham and Lark and saw the sofa they’d been asleep on was empty.

  “They’re in the bathroom,” Dad said with obvious disapproval.

  I smiled at that, knowing that he’d probably spoken of Robert and me in the same tone to Graham. “Want me to carry that plate of pancakes to the dining table?”

  “Yes; and the syrup.”

  I carried the overlarge plate filled with fluffy disks to the dining room where an even larger plate already sat. “Dad?”

  “What?”

  “Which one is Graham’s?”

  “The one in your hand.”

  Nodding, I placed the plate in front of the chair Graham had sat in last night and then returned to the kitchen. “Yo
u know, he probably doesn’t need to eat as much as he does. I don’t know if the turned can gain weight but if they can he’s gonna end up causing sink holes.”

  Dad lifted a ham steak off a skillet and put it onto another plate already stacked with browned pieces of pork. “The turned stay relatively the same. Graham could eat an entire cow and not gain a single pound.”

  “Does he even need to eat?”

  “He won’t starve, but he’s still human in here-” he pointed to his head “-so he’ll still feel hungry when he normally would.”

  “Which for him means all the time.”

  Dad laughed. “He wasn’t always like that, you know. The two of you used to be pretty picky eaters.”

  “Pictures or it didn’t happen,” I said with a smile before taking the plate of ham into the dining room.

  Dad followed behind with a pitcher of orange juice and a roll of paper towels. “I think Richard caught it on video. You two wouldn’t even eat hot dogs as kids.”

  “Well, I still don’t eat them.”

  “Yes, and Graham eats enough of them for both of you.”

  Dad put down the roll of paper and then took my free hand. He reached for the plate and set it down before grabbing my other hand, turning me so that I was facing him.

  “Grace, thank you.”

  “For?”

  “For being here. I know what’s happening. I know that you wanted to leave last night and the fact that you stayed, that you kept your promise makes me feel so proud, Grace. Your mother would be so proud of you right now-”

  “Dad.”

  “Listen to me,” he interrupted. “I know that you don’t want to hear about your mom, that you’re mad at her for what happened, what she, what we didn’t tell you, but no matter what, she never wanted to hurt you. She loved you more than anything, more than anyone, and she gave you so much of herself. I see it in you. It’s why you are the way you are. You might not care right now, but you will.”

  “I-”

  “No. Don’t say anything. I might never get another chance at this so let me finish while I still remember the words in my head.”

  His fingers on my left hand touched my mother’s ring; he pinched it and turned it, looking down at his actions before returning his gaze to mine. “No matter what you do today, no matter what happens, you remember who you are. And I’m not talking about what they say you are; I’m talking about the person you are.

  “You have more good in you than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re generous and patient, forgiving and stubborn in more good ways than bad. You remember that. You remember what kind of person risked getting sick to sneak Graham chicken soup when he had the chicken pox. You remember what kind of person called up the woman she couldn’t stand to made amends so that she could make her old man happy.”

  He choked up, his voice cracking like glass. He reached out to me, grasping my two hands in one of his, while using the other to hold my chin. “You remember the person who sacrificed herself to save her family and friends, and most importantly you remember what kind of person forgave a stupid old man for keeping secrets from the person who matters the most to him in the world.”

  It was violent, the way he yanked at me to hold me in his arms. The movement was so quick, the action so rough and jolting that I couldn’t brace myself for it, even with the abilities I was discovering I had. It hurt, the crushing of arms against my back, the digging of a chin into the top of my head.

  But through the pain I felt the weight of my father’s grief, his remorse, his friendship, his love. This might be the last time we spoke, the last time we held each other’s heart against our own. He was my father, but more than that he was my dad, and through every fight, every disagreement, every lie, every secret, he’d always been that person.

  This wasn’t a goodbye. I’d vowed that there wouldn’t be one. But the heaviness of reality made it feel like one, more so than any other we’d ever had.

  “I love you, Dad.”

  “I know. I know that more than anything, kiddo.”

  He squeezed me one more time before letting me go and swallowing down whatever else he was going to say. He wiped his hands on his pants and then held them out to the table. “Well…ready to eat?”

  “I am!”

  Graham arrived with his appetite, while Lark arrived with a smile. He sat down in front of the plate filled with pancakes, his hand poised over his fork, waiting for a sign that it would be okay to eat.

  I sat down in the same seat I’d occupied for dinner, grinning when Robert returned from upstairs, his face still pinched up in disgust, his skin impossibly green while Matthew gurgled in his arms, content and clean. “You okay?”

  “This…this kid’s not human.”

  Dad laughed and reached for the baby. “Oh believe me, he’s human.”

  “I refuse to believe it. I refuse to believe that what came out of that...that tiny person is what comes out of other babies. Nothing that smells that bad, or looks that foul could possibly be human,” Robert insisted as he sat next to me.

  “I don’t know about that,” Graham argued. “I’ve seen some things in the locker room before and after games that would make you think aliens had landed or something.”

  “Is it a human thing to discuss feces at the breakfast table?” Lark asked baldly.

  “Apparently not, since Robert’s the one who brought it up,” Graham replied, eyeing the plates on the breakfast table and then the empty chairs around it. “Hey, where is everyone anyway?”

  “I’m here,” Stacy answered, her hair wrapped in a towel.

  “Where’d you take a shower?” I asked.

  “Dr. Bro’s bathroom.”

  “So where are they?”

  “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to wait for the six-foot-high club over here to hurry up and get out of the bathroom so I used the doc’s.”

  Stacy sat down and looked at the food on the table with a strange longing. “It looks so good…and at the same time it makes me want to throw up my dinner.”

  “See, gross table discussions aren’t being brought up by humans,” Graham pointed out. “So can we eat already?”

  “Go ahead,” Dad insisted, pulling a bottle from his pocket and sticking the nipple into Matthew’s mouth.

  Graham didn’t need to be told twice, and began to scarf down his pile of pancakes, finding a rhythm that allowed him to take bites of ham, gulps of orange juice, and still answer questions without once having his mouth empty of food.

  “So, tell me what your plan is,” Dad said calmly.

  “Whose plan?”

  Lark picked up a fork and began pushing at the tines with her finger, the points moving back and forth like jelly. “He means Grace’s, although everyone seems to have a plan of their own right now.”

  I took a pancake and a piece of ham for myself and spoke between bites. “According to Mrs. Mayhew, there are a lot of people coming this way to get me. We can’t let them hurt anyone before they get here, and we definitely can’t let them get here, so right now the only thing I can think of doing is stopping them.”

  “Yes, but how?” Dad wanted to know.

  “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.

  “They want Grace,” Lark said flatly. “They’ve all been told that if they want to go back to being normal, they have to kill her. The ones who don’t want to go back to being humans have been told the opposite. Basically whatever they want to hear in order to do it, that’s what they’ve been told.”

  “How many?”

  Lark closed her eyes, her head tilting forward slightly before cocking to the side. “Too many…Vanessa would have a more accurate number. I can only guess at two hundred, but more are being turned every hour.”

  “This is your grandfather doing this, right? So why aren’t we stopping him first?” Graham asked, his plate empty.

  “Because he’s not just my grandfather,” Lark answered, exasperated. “He’s one of the first four. That means that th
e minute he feels threatened, he’ll ascend and then no one will be able to get him.”

  “So what? He keeps on turning people and we kill them?”

  “What’s this we business,” I asked, annoyed. “Since when did you become a vigilante?”

  “Since my best friend became someone’s extra credit.”

  “You can’t actually be considering letting him come along?” I looked at Lark, her eyes still closed.

  “I can’t force him to stay out of this anymore than you can, and I won’t try to either. If he wants to help then I’m going to let him.”

  My eyes flicked to Graham, who listened intently for my argument. Graham can’t fight against them. He’s not strong, he’s not fast. All he has is the ability to heal. That’s not going to get him very far with whatever the hell is out there.

  “Hey, none of that thinky-talky thing,” Graham chastised. “I know when you guys are doing it because everything gets really quiet even though it still feels like you guys are arguing. I don’t care if you think I can’t do anything. Not doing anything is only gonna drive me crazy.”

  “You’ll be staying here with me, Graham. I’m going to need someone to talk to so that I don’t go crazy,” Dad informed him.

  “So wait, now I’m the babysitter?”

  “Graham…” Dad growled.

  “Mr. Shelley, I don’t mean to offend you-”

  “Oh no, you don’t mean to offend me by insinuating that I need a babysitter.”

  “It’s just…you’ve got a baby to take care of. I don’t wanna sit here and change diapers when I could be out there kicking butt!”

  “I won’t just be sitting changing diapers,” Dad corrected him. “I’ll be working, too.”

  “Working?” I asked, confused.

  “Grace, you already know what’ll happen if they get to you. EPs don’t want that to happen anymore than the angels do. We are raised to do nothing but protect them from exposure. We are their alibis and their enablers. If there’s no need to do that anymore then there’s no reason for us and whatever protections we might have had will be gone.

  “So, I’ll be working with my sister to get what help out to you that I can.”

  This bothered me. “And what did she ask for in return? Is she gonna demand that you hand over Matthew in exchange for her help?”