Grace and Glory

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

“A state isn’t enough room if you have to be sharing it with Lucifer.” Cayman rested his arm on the back of the couch. “Well, you’ll know if they’re successful. You’ll feel it.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  Cayman shrugged. “Lucifer loves to make an entrance.”

  That...sounded concerning.

  “You know, this also reminds me of something I need to ask.” Zayne’s ultrabright eyes focused on the demon. “What in the Hell were you thinking letting her go out there by herself? An Upper Level demon came for her tonight. Imps and Seeker demons came for her here just two days ago. Earlier that same day? Ghouls were after her.”

  “Excuse me?” My head snapped toward Zayne. “I could’ve completely handled Nightcrawler and Purson, and I would’ve gotten control of the Ghouls and imps.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. You’re still recovering, and I can tell your grace isn’t up to normal,” he reminded me, and I really, really did not like this new talent of his. “The last thing you need to do is injure yourself further.”

  “She needed fresh air and time alone. Everyone was crawling all over her, and in case you forgot, I was kind of running for my life. From you,” Cayman defended. “I know she can take care of herself, and I didn’t—wait. Did you say Purson?” Cayman pitched forward. “Purson came for you? And Ghouls and Seeker demons?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, and Purson was walking a Nightcrawler. On a leash. It was all very odd.”

  “Gabriel must have demons out looking for her,” Zayne said.

  “No.” Cayman rose. “There is no way Purson’s working with Gabriel.”

  “Was,” Zayne corrected. “He’s dead.”

  Cayman’s jaw locked down. “Purson has always been loyal to Lucifer. And Ghouls? There is no way Gabriel would have the kind of reach to sway them to his cause. Ghouls only exist in the lowest circles of Hell.”

  “If it wasn’t Gabriel, then who?” I demanded.

  The demon looked a bit ill. “Lucifer.”

  20

  Cayman bounced out of the apartment shortly after dropping that bomb.

  I’d assumed that he was going to try to reach Roth and Layla, but apparently they were most likely in an area of Hell that Cayman wouldn’t even venture into. After telling us he wanted to see if anyone knew for sure that it was Lucifer who put a hit out on me, he’d blinked out of existence.

  That was another cool demon talent I wished I had.

  “Lucifer,” Zayne said once Cayman was gone. “Really?”

  “It was Roth’s idea.”

  “Shocker.”

  “But I agreed to it. We need to bring out the big guns to defeat Gabriel, and it seemed like a rational decision at the time.” I stretched my tired legs out, letting them dangle over the edge. “It still does. Hopefully Cayman’s wrong and those demons weren’t sent by Lucifer. That would be a complication we don’t need.”

  “You think?”

  It was a complication that I could add to the ever-growing list of very real and possible complications. I just hoped that if Lucifer was behind this, Roth and Layla would be able to sway him to our side and out of wanting to do who knew what to me. “I know you don’t think bringing him into this is a wise idea, but we will...just need to control him somehow.”

  “Control Lucifer?” Zayne laughed under his breath as he scrunched a hand through his hair. “That should be easy. He seems like the kind of guy who’d be easily manageable.”

  I grinned. “Maybe he just has a bad rap?”

  “Or he’s learned to be a calmer, nicer ruler of Hell through yoga and meditation?” He picked up my braid, gently tugging the band free.

  “Hey, stranger things have happened.”

  He snorted. “I have a feeling he’s going to be just like Roth but worse.”

  Another grin tugged at my lips, and for a couple of moments, I got a little lost in watching him. He was slowly unthreading the braid. There was a lot we needed to talk about, but I started with what felt like the most important. “Did you get to see your father?”

  His fingers stilled around my hair. “There wasn’t a lot of time for visitations. It took every moment there for me to get control of the grace.” He returned to undoing my braid. “The first time I summoned it, I blew a hole through one of the buildings. Was it like that for you?”

  “I never blew a hole through a building, but I would have a hard time keeping it under control when I got angry or upset.” I touched his arm. “That means you didn’t get to see your father?”

  Zayne shook his head. “I didn’t see anyone other than Michael, a few other angels and the Alphas.”

  “I’m sorry.” I curled my fingers around his wrist. “They could’ve made sure you had a chance to see him—to see anyone you wanted.”

  Letting go of my hair, he threaded his fingers around mine. “I would’ve loved to see my father. To see Sam,” he said, referencing the spirit who’d come back to warn us about what was happening at the high school. “But I needed to make sure I could handle what was given to me.” Thick lashes lifted. “I needed to get back to you. That was the most important thing.”

  My heart gave a happy little dance in my chest, and for a moment, there was nothing but warmth and joy. It didn’t last long.

  Because what was the cost?

  Air snagged in my chest as the razor-edged panic resurfaced. I pulled back, slipping my hand free.

  “What?” His eyes searched mine.

  Suddenly needing to move, I rose, and the dull flare of pain in my shoulders and spine was nothing compared to the deeper pain of fear. “I need to ask you something and you have to be honest.”

  “I’m always honest with you.” Zayne stared up at me as a half grin formed. “Well, mostly. There were a few times in the past I wasn’t completely honest.”

  I almost started to ask which times he was referencing in case there was more than I knew, but stopped myself. “I need you to be completely honest now, no matter what the answer is.”

  “Of course.”

  Skin prickling, I started to pace in front of the TV. “I need to know the truth, Zayne.”

  He moved to the edge of the couch. “Yeah, I’ve gotten that. What do you need to know?”

  Swallowing the rise of fear-induced nausea, I forced the question out. “You came back to me without me having to barter or plead. You came back more powerful than even me, and yes, I had to do the thing with the Sword of Michael, and that was stressful and all, but you are alive after dying.”

  His head tilted. “Yes.” A pause. “I am.”

  “They wanted you here to help stop Gabriel, but them letting you Fall? Having no problem with you being with me? All of it seems too good to be true. There has to have been a cost to this. A catch.” I crossed my arms, still pacing in front of the TV. “I need to know if this is temporary? You being here with me? Are you going to be taken away from me once we defeat Gabriel? Are the Alphas and other angels going to come for you? Try to take your grace or entomb you?”

  “No.” There was no hesitation there. “I feared that myself, and knowing what I do about angels, I didn’t trust that there was no catch. Them making this something temporary sounds like something they’d enjoy. I expected that to be the case, but this isn’t temporary, Trin.”

  “How can you be sure?” I asked.

  “Because your father told me it wasn’t.”

  I stopped moving. My heart might’ve stopped moving. “He said you get to stay with me? He said those exact words and didn’t leave it up to interpretation?”

  “Michael said I would remain by your side as long as you would have me.” Never taking his gaze off me, he bent to swipe a chip off the floor and tossed it onto the coffee table. “And then he thoughtfully tacked on that I would remain by your side as long as I stayed alive.”

  “Really?” I
whispered, too afraid to relax. “The ‘as long as you stayed alive’ part sounds like something he’d say.”

  Zayne nodded. “This isn’t temporary, Trin.”

  “But why?” I asked, walking forward and stopping in front of him. “Why would they do something so...so nice?” I knew how bad that sounded, but people thought angels were pillars of virtue and generosity. They were more of the teach people a lesson through loss and grief type, and yeah, I was sure there were fluffy and loving ones out there. We just never dealt with that kind. “It just doesn’t sound like them.”

  “It’s not, but I think...your father had a lot to do with them allowing this. Actually, I know your father did.”

  “Really?” I wanted to believe that but his history proved that he wasn’t the type of dad to get heavily involved.

  Or to care.

  “You know how I thought that Michael expected me to Fall? Even Cayman thought that.” Zayne’s hands reached out and settled on my hips. He pulled me into the vee of his legs. “Could it be because he realized I wouldn’t be bound to their rules of combat between angels? Sure. I bet that was what he used to convince the other angels. But I know it was more than that.” He stared up at me, the striking lines of his face more clear to me than they’d ever been. “The night he made me your Protector, he whispered something to me. I thought I understood what it meant, but I think he was telling me more than I realized.”

  I remembered seeing my father whisper to him. When I asked Zayne about it, he’d said it hadn’t been about the Harbinger. Then I got, well, distracted as per usual. “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘My daughter will one day give you grace and restore you to your Glory.’ Then he said he hoped I’d learned to know when to follow the rules and when not to,” he told me. “I really didn’t get that whole grace and Glory thing, but I knew what he meant by following the rules. He was talking about us—about the rules that governed a Trueborn and Protector, and I know he was telling me to not follow them.”

  A shaky breath left me. Zayne had followed the rules his entire life, and what had that gotten him? He’d lost Layla before he even had her, and it didn’t matter that if they had gotten together he would’ve realized how strong his feelings were or weren’t. He followed the rules, and grew farther apart from his clan. And I remembered when he told me he was tired of following the rules. That was the first night we’d been together.

  “But you were weakened because we didn’t follow the rules,” I reasoned. “You died because—”

  “And my Glory was restored because of you—because I loved you. I was given grace because I love you,” he said. “Not following the rules led me to this very moment, and yeah, I lost my Glory in the Fall, but I’m here. I’m with you, and sure, we could think that he gave me that heads-up so I was more likely to be here with you to fight Gabriel, but I think it was more than that. I know it was. He wants you to be happy, and he knew that allowing me to return to you would do that.”

  Never in a million years would I have considered that was what my father had whispered to him. Nor would I have ever considered that he even spared a moment to think of my happiness. Ever.

  “There isn’t a lot he can do for you, being what he is or being what I imagine is expected of him.” He stared up at me, eyes a stunning clear blue. “And I don’t say that as a way to excuse his general lack of paternal abilities, but this was something he could do for you.”

  “If you’re right, I...I don’t even know what to say,” I admitted, squeezing my eyes shut. When they reopened, there were tiny bursts of light. “I think it’s easier for me to think he’s not capable of doing something like that.”

  “Why?” Zayne asked.

  It was hard to put what I felt into words. “Because it...makes me think about what it’s like to have a father, a real one who is involved and cares. It makes me want that.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting that.”

  “I know, but it makes me sad and angry to know that I have one who can’t be that,” I admitted. “So it’s easier just to think of him as what he is—an archangel who is capable of only feeling cool displeasure.”

  His gaze searched my face. “I understand,” he said, and I believed that he did even though he had a father who had been a daily part of his life. Who he loved and had been loved by, even when they had disagreed fiercely with one another.

  “Just so you know,” I said, letting out a breath and letting hope in as I shoved thoughts of my father aside and focused on Zayne and I. “You don’t have to worry about how I feel. I will always have you. Always.”

  “I know.” That was said without an ounce of arrogance as he tugged me down to his lap. When he lifted his hands, he did so slowly, making sure he didn’t startle me as he gently clasped my cheeks. “It’s been six days, four hours and roughly twenty minutes since I’ve been able to really talk to you and to see you through my eyes. Others have gone longer. Weeks. Months. Years. But those days and hours and minutes have felt like an eternity. I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for you.”

  I placed my hands against the warm skin of his chest. “I always thought losing my vision was the scariest thing that could happen to me, but then I...I lost my mother, and that was worse. I dealt with it, but then I lost Misha, and I thought everything he’d done was the worst thing I could possibly experience. I was wrong. Each of those things has been terrible or hard or life-changing in its own way, but losing you felt like every breath I needed to take was stolen away before I could inhale.” The back of my throat burned again. “It was worse than Hell, and it wasn’t even the healing part. That sucked, but being awake was worse. Being aware that you...you were gone was the worst part, and you know, I didn’t know how I could go on, and I was planning to...”

  “Planning what?” He carefully smoothed his thumbs under my eyes, and it was then that I realized I was crying. Again. I really needed to stop doing that. Jesus.

  I stitched myself together. Sort of. “I was planning to go to Grim—to the Angel of Death—and force him to bring you back.”

  “You were going to do what?”

  “Go to Grim and force him to bring you back. I didn’t know how I would do it, but then I...I didn’t know if that was the right thing, you know? Like what if you were at peace and I was pulling you away from that? Bringing you back to life and for what? To fight Gabriel. To possibly die again?” Those feelings—that confusion—still pooled in the back of my throat like battery acid. “But I knew that if I survived Gabriel, I don’t think...I don’t think I would’ve survived losing you. A part of me would be forever gone—the part that belongs to you. And that night you came back? I was in that park trying to figure out what would be the right thing to do and if I could live with myself no matter what I decided.”

  Whispering my name, he lowered his head and kissed my forehead and then the tip of my nose. “I’m glad you didn’t have to make that choice.” He pulled me against his chest, folding his arms around me. “I wouldn’t have found peace, Trin. You would’ve known. You would’ve seen me as a ghost or spirit. I would’ve come back to you.”

  I looped my arms around his waist, knowing he was right. I should’ve known when I woke up, and in the days that passed, that something was happening, because I hadn’t seen him as a ghost or spirit. “I think I was afraid that Gabriel had managed to do something to your soul,” I admitted, and Zayne tensed against me. “I know that probably sounds bizarre, but I was just so afraid.”

  “It’s not bizarre.” Zayne guided my head back as he pulled away just enough that he could see me. “You know I’m always going to be here. Remember? I’ll always be here to make sure you can see the stars. I’m just your Guide...Fallen Angel.”

  A shaky laugh left me as I leaned in. Zayne met me halfway, and the moment our lips touched, I let myself finally find a measure of relief. His wintermint scent surrounded me.
I could kiss him for an eternity—

  Jerking back, my eyes popped open as it hit me. My chest hollowed as I stared at the striking planes and angles of his face, and I thought about my father and all the other angels I’d ever seen. None of them looked older than midtwenties. Hell, most demons didn’t look all that much older. I didn’t know if they just aged incredibly slowly or if they reached a certain maturity and stopped aging. With a sinking sort of feeling, I inherently knew that the Fallen were the same.

  I would age each year.

  Zayne would not.

  21

  “Are you okay?” Zayne asked while I continued to stare at

  him, on the brink of yet another panic spiral.

  “Are you, like, immortal now?” I asked. “Like you won’t age?”

  There was a soft, heavy-lidded look that settled into his features. “I was wondering if you were going to ask about that.”

  “Oh, no. You’re not going to age, are you?” Groaning, I let my head fall back. “Here I thought going blind and you having to, I don’t know, pick out my clothes for me would eventually strain our relationship—”

  “Why in the Hell would you think that would strain our relationship?”

  “Well, maybe not the clothing thing, but you know.”

  “No. I don’t.” He tipped my head forward so we were eye to eye again. “Explain.”

  “If I get lucky, I’ll have enough vision left to see like this much.” I held up my thumb and forefinger, keeping them about an inch apart. “As much as I hate to admit it, I’m going to need help with a lot of things.”

  A big, bright smile broke out across his face, surprising me.

  I rocked back a little. “Why are you smiling?”

  “Because you admitted that you’re going to need help and that’s huge. I figured I was just going to have to sit back and watch you walk into walls for months before you asked for help.”

  I stared at him.

  “But back to the not smiling part?” he went on. “I’m sort of offended that you think your vision is going to somehow affect the way I feel about you and strain our relationship. Actually, I am offended.”