Grace and Glory

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

  I drew in a deep breath. “I have faith. Maybe not always. Maybe tomorrow I won’t, but I...I refuse to believe that I would be put in this position with everything else going on, only to lose him all over again. I have faith in our love. He had enough faith in our love that he Fell for me. I have faith that what I feel for him will be enough to bring him back.”

  Tony stared at me through eyes that seemed decades, if not more, older. He nodded, and I wanted to ask if the honest answer had been the right one.

  “I can help you,” the Crone announced.

  My head snapped back in her direction, and I almost couldn’t breathe. “You can?”

  She nodded as she took another sip of the pink, fruity-scented wine. “You need a spell that brings him to you and also traps him.”

  Traps him? Suddenly an image of Dean and Sam Winchester formed in my heads. “Like an Angel Trap? That sounds like some Supernatural-esque stuff.”

  “Heh,” giggled Tony. “I’m a Castiel fan. You?”

  I almost pointed out he seemed too young to be watching that show but refrained. He’d probably seen some crazy stuff. “I’m a Dean fan.”

  “Of course you are.” His eyes rolled.

  “I have no idea what you two are talking about,” the Crone said. “But yes, like an Angel Trap, I suppose. Well, more like a person trap, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  My brows lifted as I saw an encircled pentagram in my head. I really needed to stop watching TV. “How do I create this spell—trap, whatever?”

  “You will need a few things.” She lifted a hand, motioning with her fingers.

  From wherever Tony had roamed out from, a male came forward, looking more like an accountant than an actual witch. He was fair-skinned and middle-aged, dressed in a black suit. He carried something in his hand. He placed it on the table beside the Crone, bowing in her direction before turning and heading back to wherever he came from.

  The Crone picked up what I now realized was a small glass decanter, no bigger than the length of her hand. “I had this cooked up for you today, you know, just in case today was the day,” she said with a wink, and I shivered. “So, it’s still fresh, but it must be used tonight.” She handed it to me.

  I carefully took it, turning the narrow, oval-shaped glass in my hand. There was deep gold liquid inside and...and smoke? Golden smoke? “What is in this?”

  “This and that and probably a whole lot of what you wouldn’t want to know,” she answered, and the look she gave me warned I would be wise to not pursue her comment. “All you need to know is that it won’t harm him. You need to take that to where you first saw him as a Fallen.”

  “Rock Creek Park,” I told her, and of course it would have to be somewhere superpublic.

  She nodded. “You will open it tonight, when the sun retires.”

  “That would be approximately 8:32 p.m., just in case you are wondering,” Tony supplied.

  “You must bring with you a personal item of his and place it on the earth. The item must be freshly marked with your blood,” she instructed, and I couldn’t help but hope all nearby demons were nicely hidden so they didn’t catch the scent of my blood.

  Apparently Tony was thinking the same, because his head swiveled toward the Crone.

  “Then you will need to open the vial, emptying all the contents onto the item you have brought with you. You will briefly see a circle form,” she went on. “Once he is inside the circle, his grace will be cut off to him and he will be brought to his knees. Make sure you step out of it before it disappears, or you, too, will be trapped inside without your grace or strength. You do not want that.”

  No. I did not.

  “This will only hold for a few minutes,” she continued. “Angels, Fallen or not, Trueborn or not, are too powerful to contain for any lengthy period of time. You must act fast and you must not hesitate.”

  “I won’t.” Closing my fingers around the vial, I inhaled deeply. The vial warmed to my touch. Some of the panic and hopelessness that had been weighing on me since I woke up to find that Zayne was gone abated. “Thank you.”

  She nodded.

  I lifted my gaze to hers. “And what do you want in exchange?”

  The Crone’s answering smile was tight-lipped. “Do you not think that I give you this out of the kindness of my old heart?”

  Holding her stare, I smiled in return. “I don’t know a whole lot about witches, but I know enough about humans in general to know that nearly nothing of importance is given without strings attached. What are those strings?”

  “Smart girl,” murmured Tony.

  One white, caterpillar-like brow rose. “What I want, if you succeed, is for you to bring the Fallen to me.”

  My grip on the vial tightened. “What do you want from him?”

  Her dark eyes sharpened into shards of obsidian. “I want just one feather.”

  “Just one feather?” Unease festered. “What can you do with just one feather from a Fallen?”

  “Endless things, child.” A smile came to her then, a dreamy, wistful one as her eyes closed. “Great and impossible things.”

  “Terrible things?” I asked, hating how my conscience was tapping itself on my shoulder.

  “All magic can be used for the great and for the terrible.” The Crone opened her eyes. “The outcome is always in the hands of those who wield it, and I have never used it in the way you fear on anyone who wasn’t deserving of it.”

  I stared at her, knowing that wasn’t an exact confirmation that Zayne’s feather wouldn’t be used for something incredibly evil, but I either had to take her word on it or hand the vial back to her, find another way to even the playing field with Zayne. The latter could take too long. I may never find it.

  “Okay,” I said. This was probably something I was going to have to account for once I received judgment, but I would do anything for Zayne. Just like he’d done anything for me. “I will bring Zayne to you.”

  “Good.” She reached for the wineglass.

  “But just so you know,” I said, waiting until her attention returned to me. “If you harm him in any way, I will kill you. You won’t even have a chance to use your magic against me. It will happen before you even realize it.”

  The Crone took a slow drink. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  “Glad we’re on the same page.”

  “So am I,” Tony said. “Because this was getting superawkward.”

  “As most adult conversations do,” the Crone replied. “One day you will understand that.”

  “Seriously?” The tiny seer looked offended.

  The Crone laughed softly. “Don’t you still have a bedtime?”

  The child’s eyes narrowed.

  “He does,” the Crone told me, and I really had no idea what to say to that. “One last thing before we part ways, which we must do very shortly. I have to get this one back to his mother before she thinks I stole him.”

  “Oh my God,” Tony muttered under his breath. “The things I could tell you...”

  “But you won’t.” She leaned over, and for a moment, I feared she might topple right out of her chair and, like, break a hip. She kissed the seer on the cheek.

  Tony rolled his eyes and wrinkled his nose in a way I imagined a normal kid of his age would. There was a smudge of bright pink lipstick on his cheek.

  Sitting upright once more, the Crone refocused on me. “You must do this alone tonight. No friends, demonic or Warden. Their energies will interfere with the spell.”

  I guessed I better hope this worked, because if it didn’t keep Zayne contained long enough, he was going to be very angry.

  Rising from my chair, I hesitated as I looked over at the kid. “Will I see you again?”

  Those eerie eyes lifted to mine. “I can’t answer that.”

  The why occurred t
o me. Because if he did, it would tell me too much. It could possibly tell me that there was an after to all of this. Or that there wasn’t. A chill skated down my spine as I nodded and turned.

  “Tell Roth I said hi,” Tony added, and my gaze swept back to him. He smiled, and my heart rate kicked up. “Tell him that my mom would love one of those chickens he brought me. He’ll understand.”

  “Okay,” I heard myself say, and then I left, a small smile tugging at my lips.

  Tony had just shared that I would see Roth again, and unless Roth returned from Hell between now and tonight, which was unlikely, it meant I survived tonight.

  So at least there was that.

  * * *

  Updating Dez on everything that had gone down went just as I had expected it to.

  Dez wasn’t remotely on board with the idea of me using something a witch had given me to draw Zayne out, nor was he happy that I was doing this alone. It took a while to convince him that this was something I had to try, and finally he relented after I told him he could help by making sure the park was cleared of all people by seven. I promised that I would let him know what happened as soon as I could.

  At least that conversation was far less awkward than the one before.

  Cayman, on the other hand, was just not about that kind of life, anyway. He promised to remain back at the apartment.

  “Call me if the spell somehow doesn’t contain him and you need to run for your life,” he’d told me. “I’ll run with you.”

  That wasn’t the most inspiring of all comments, but he did tell me that I probably didn’t need to worry about drawing any demons to me. He had a feeling that after Zayne’s show-and-tell from Saturday night, most had hightailed their butts back to Hell or out of the city, but that didn’t include the demons who were working with Gabriel, obviously.

  So, yeah, thoughts and prayers on that front.

  Finding a personal item of Zayne’s wasn’t exactly easy since he didn’t have a lot of personal items outside of the bare necessities. I didn’t want to take his toothbrush or comb since I had to bleed all over it and dump only God knew what on top of it, so I opted for one of his unwashed gray shirts I’d been planning to sleep in again. It still smelled like him, and I stood there holding it to my face for a probably disturbing amount of time.

  The hours dragged by and by, and I couldn’t wait around any longer. Cayman had ordered up a car for me, and I headed to Rock Creek Park. That was where I spent the last hour or so, claiming ownership of the bench, his shirt and the vial close to my thudding heart.

  It will be okay.

  It will be okay.

  I kept repeating that, over and over, while I stared at the empty walking path. I had no idea what kind of strings the Wardens had pulled, but the last person I’d seen had been at least forty-some minutes ago. I guessed it was a small blessing that I had this to stress over so I wasn’t obsessing over, well, everything else. I looked up at the gradually darkening sky, and my chest tightened.

  The reminder I set on my phone dinged, letting me know it was one minute till sunset.

  Jumping from the bench, I hurried to the grassy area behind it. Carefully, I placed Zayne’s shirt on the ground beside the vial. I knelt, unsheathing the dagger. With my hand above his shirt, I placed the dagger against my palm. My heart was pounding. Both my hands were shaking.

  This will work.

  This will work.

  This will work.

  The second reminder went off from my phone. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation as the sky above me turned to the deepest, darkest blue. I sliced the blade along my palm. A hiss of pain escaped me as bright red blood bubbled and welled. Squeezing my hand into a fist as I sheathed my dagger, I lowered my palm and opened my hand. I dragged it across his shirt, smearing the cotton with blood.

  Snatching up the vial, I popped the lid off and tilted the bottle over the same spot my blood marked Zayne’s shirt as I prayed Zayne wasn’t playing creeping stalker and watching me.

  Which was something I hadn’t even considered until now.

  Too late to worry about that, I supposed.

  The golden liquid poured over the shirt. It wasn’t a lot, and the smoke leaked out next, glittering like dozens of fireflies as it drifted slowly to the shirt.

  A bolt of light flashed from the shirt, whipping out faster than I could track. Dropping the vial, I rose as the gold light raced to form a circle.

  Spinning around, I pushed—pushed hard with my legs as the circle completed. The light pulsed, streaming upward as I jumped through it, hitting the ground on my hands and knees just outside the circle as the light collapsed.

  “God,” I whispered, pushing my braid back over my shoulder. That was...that was too close of a call.

  I stood, turning back. I couldn’t see any signs of the light. I could barely make out the lump of his shirt in the encroaching shadows, but it was done.

  The park lights flicked on as I stood there, chest rising and falling rapidly. My grace hummed in me, ramped up by my anxiety.

  Please.

  Please.

  Please.

  Lifting my gaze to the now dark sky, I strained to see anything. There was nothing. Not even a hint of a star. What if this didn’t work? What if I did something wrong? Was I supposed to dump the contents out first and then cut myself? I should’ve written the instructions down, because my memory—

  I saw him only for a second before he dropped out of the sky, landing in a crouch mere feet from where I thought the circle started.

  My heart stammered as he rose, his wings emanating a soft white glow as he spread them wide. Show-off. He’d changed into a faded pair of jeans. Where he got them, or better yet, who he borrowed them from, I decided I didn’t want to know.

  At least right now.

  From opposite sides of what I hoped was a functional trap, we stared at one another. Too many seconds ticked by unused. I needed to get him in the trap.

  I stepped forward, only about a foot. “Miss me?”

  His head tilted. “You did something. I know you did. I felt this uncontrollable urge to come here.”

  “You weren’t watching me?”

  He shook his head. “I can no longer watch you.”

  Because he could no longer trust himself? There wasn’t time to figure that out. “Well, I didn’t want to walk the streets looking for you.”

  “I told you to stay away from me. That I would hurt you,” he said, voice a low rumble. “And yet, you did something to bring me to you. I’m beginning to believe you have a death wish.”

  “You think you can kill me?” I summoned my grace, and it responded in a rush. The corners of my eyes turned white as whitish-gold light spilled out from my shoulder, swirling down my arm. The hilt of the Sword of Michael formed against my palm, warm and welcomed. The flaming blade erupted, crackling and hissing. “Then come and get me, Fallen.”

  For a heart-stopping moment, I didn’t think he would rise to the challenge. That he’d refuse, and while that could be further proof that he was still in there, I didn’t need Zayne rearing his head right now. I needed the Fallen.

  “I don’t think it’s a fight you want.” A cruel smile twisted his lips. “It’s me.”

  My skin flushed but I lifted my chin. “Maybe it is you I want. Maybe not.”

  His head twisted from side to side and then his jaw hardened. “Can’t say I didn’t try to warn you,” he growled, and he moved so fast that he was nothing but a blur of gold and white.

  But I saw the moment he entered the trap.

  Golden, shimmery light pulsed low to the ground, in the shape of a circle. Zayne skidded to a stop, his chin dipping as he stared at the fading light—at his shirt.

  He lifted his head. “What did you do?”

  “Leveled the playing field.”

  His lips
pulled back, and the sound that came from him sent a bolt of fear through me. It was inhuman. Terrible. He charged forward, and I braced for the trap to fail—

  He jerked to a stop, hands balling to his fists, and he was close enough I could see the fury etched into his features. His upper body tipped forward. Tendons stood out from his neck. Muscles flexed along his shoulders as he fought, but he went down on his knees, just like the Crone promised.

  Vivid, burning eyes lifted to mine. From his heaving chest, his voice rumbled, “You cheated.”

  “I did.” I brought the sword forward, wrapping my other hand around the hilt.

  His eyes narrowed. “You going to use that? On me? Thought you loved me, little nephilim?”

  “I do,” I whispered, throat and eyes burning.

  “Love,” he spat as his wings lowered and his chest rose, as if he were daring me to do it. “Do your worst, nephilim, but strike true. If you don’t, I will get out of this. Then I will destroy you and I won’t care.”

  “But I think you would,” I told him as tears blurred his features. I stepped forward. “I love you. I love you now and I’ll love you forever.”

  I moved before he had a chance to respond to my words, unable to truly allow myself to consider what I was doing. I drew the Sword of Michael back.

  I love you.

  My heart stuttered and then cracked. The next breath I took went nowhere as a violent storm of emotions erupted out of me in a scream.

  I love you.

  Thrusting the flaming, golden sword forward, I shoved it deep into Zayne’s chest, into his heart.

  15

  Time slowed and then seemed to stop as his gaze met mine and held. His were wide with what looked like shock, and in the mess of tumbling thoughts, one became clear. I didn’t think he believed I would do this. Did the shock filling those stunning blue eyes come from the part of him that had been lost when he Fell or from the part of Zayne that remained inside him?