increased in volume the longer she stood there. Nervously, she flashed her gaze around the parking lot, spinning her body back and forth. Grace saw only students making their way to cars and buses—nothing to explain the noise.
When she spun on her heel to beat feet out of there, she noticed a shadow. And then another. Not shadows of people, but amorphous black blobs roiling and slithering a little above the ground. Grace wondered if clouds might be casting the shapes, but the sky was bright blue and clear. No birds, planes, clouds … nothing. They were getting closer. And growling? She ripped her key from the front pocket of her backpack and fumbled to shove it into the lock. Fighting with her key, she risked a quick glance behind her. The things were only a couple of car lengths away.
Finally making a connection and unlocking the car door, she threw herself and the backpack in the front seat. As soon as she was out of the parking lot, Grace heard her cell buzz from a text.
Quentin: We need to talk.
“Uh, yeah,” she said aloud.
Grace: U think? Manor in 10.
Not waiting for a reply, she tossed her cell in the passenger seat, pressed her foot against the gas pedal, and hoped like heck the cops were patrolling somewhere else in Woods Cross.
“Shadow Hounds?” Grace plopped down on the sofa. Not this again. This conversation had no room for Bible stories or folklore. Something seriously freaky was stalking her in the parking lot and she wanted to hear something logical. Shadow Hounds sounded anything but. “What exactly is that?”
“Have you ever heard of a Hell Hound?”
“Should I have?” Grace snapped. With two fingers from each hand, she massaged her aching temples. Another headache was settling in just behind her eyes. Wonderful.
Not hearing a reply, she opened an eye. Quentin was scrutinizing her. “Are you alright?” he asked.
It was obvious from his gentle tone he was concerned, but Grace didn’t want his pity. “I’m fine.” Her voice was edgy; her hands trembled slightly as she dropped them to her lap. “Tell me what a Hell Hound is.”
“Are you sure? I can get you an aspirin if you need one.”
If one more person asked if she was fine and if she was sure she was sure, she was sure she was surely going to lose it. Surprisingly though, his offer managed to soften her irritated edges a little. “No, I’m fine. Tell me what a Hell Hound is and why I need to know about them.”
Quentin still watched her. Probably because he doesn’t know what’s going to come from me next, she thought. Nice one minute, angry the next; telling him to leave, then asking him to come back. The more Grace thought about it, the more she made herself dizzy with motion sickness. She could only imagine how he must be feeling right now. She changed tactics, putting on her most encouraging face, hoping he’d continue.
“You remember everything we talked about last night?” he asked.
Sarcasm tempted to spill out with her words, but she bit her tongue. “How could I forget?” Quentin didn’t take his gaze from hers, apparently still trying to gauge her mood. “I remember, Quentin.”
“Remember when I told you others would try to find you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What I didn’t tell you was that a Chosen becomes completely Chosen on his or her eighteenth birthday. From that day forward, a Chosen is no longer off the grid. You’ll feel other Nephilim, and other Guardians. And they’ll all sense you. What you won’t be able to sense are Fallen.”
Quentin sat back on the couch with a large breath, hands rubbing anxiously across his knees. She could feel his eyes still on her, but she couldn’t move. Like a pivotal point in a movie, where everything comes together for the character, she could see the truth in his words. Logic swooped in, however, and cut it all to shreds. He might as well have been telling her for her eighteenth birthday, crazy aliens were going to stop at nothing to abduct her. Surprise! No thank you, she didn’t want that kind of present. Like that would ever happen anyway. Aliens. Don’t. Exist.
But what happened with Limye didn’t make sense either unless she bought his explanation about being able to see and sense things once she turned eighteen. Wait a minute, I’m not eighteen yet, she realized. “But I’m not eighteen, and I saw and felt something weird today. How could that be if your