punctuated by bright sunlight. Spring was officially here in Woods Cross, Utah.
Her car was parked under the flowering Chinese fringe tree at the curb in front of her house. Grace’s heart swelled at the sight of it. She was even more thankful now for her silver ’67 Shelby GT than the day her grandfather gave it to her. She felt closer to him somehow just looking at it. They shared a love for American metal, but when he insisted on giving it to her for her seventeenth birthday, she had been confused. To this day, she’d never understood his giving it up, but was immensely grateful that he had entrusted her with it.
Emily lived in a cul-de-sac at the end of a quiet street, lined on both sides with cookie-cutter houses. As she pulled in the driveway, Grace eyed Emily’s home and the neighboring houses. As usual, the sight provoked a surge of envy to pulse through her veins. It was hard seeing all the families, the sheer normalcy of it all. The fact that she couldn’t remember much of when her father lived with her and her mother made the envy harder to swallow. Some days it bothered her more than others. Today was one of those more bothersome days.
The likely catalyst was burying the only person who had treated her like family. Or maybe it was her grandfather’s letter. Being reminded of her dad’s leaving dredged up old hurts. She forgave him for abandoning her years ago, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to come back so she could say it to his face. Now or ever.
Grace honked the horn once, hoping Emily would hurry up. Being surrounded by all this suburban family sweetness made her a little nauseous, and all she wanted was to get out of there.
From somewhere in the backseat, she heard the buzz of a text. She turned back around just as Emily bounded out her front door, bouncing all the way to the car, her dark high pony swinging back and forth with her exuberance. Absentmindedly, she placed the cell phone in the ashtray, concentrating on putting a mental block up before Emily got in the car. Somehow, she managed to do this with her. Grace couldn’t imagine what their friendship would be like today otherwise.
As soon as Emily jumped into the passenger seat, Grace was greeted with a single-arm hug and a quick kiss on her cheek that smelled like strawberries and cream. “Ready?” Emily asked as she pulled away, her brown almond-shaped eyes searched Grace’s. Her eyes moved to Emily’s glistening gloss-coated lips before answering. “Abso-fricken-lutely,” she said, knowing something was up.
Uncertainty continued to haunt Quentin after the funeral reception and clear into the next morning. Since the moment Christophe had died, he had been chock-full with it. The common denominator? Grace. Get it together, Q, he chided himself.
Self-recriminating thoughts haunted him. This was the one time when he needed to be on his “A” game the most, and here he was turning into a total wuss and misplacing his “man” card.
Guardians were made to protect the Chosen, so what the hell was wrong with him? She might be a female Chosen, but still.
Even though being a blood descendant of Christophe made her special, the combination of being a female as well as a blood descendant of Christophe made her extraordinarily special.
His relentless pacing wore another path in some poor, defenseless flooring. He stopped and took a deep, cleansing breath. Maybe this self-doubt crap was what had caused others to fail? Quentin shook himself of the thought as he resumed his pacing.
Regardless of the reasons for past failures, he had to focus. And fast. He had to forget the doubt, forget the past, and remember who he was. What he was, more importantly … a Guardian. And not just any Guardian. Grace’s Guardian. She would need him more than any other he had protected before her.
His shoulders squared with resolve as he paused. There was nothing left to mull over except being damn ready for whatever might be coming. Quentin rubbed the seneschal band that continued changing as Grace’s birthday drew closer. He felt the blood drain from his face as he was stricken with a sudden attack of anxiety at all the possible scenarios he could imagine threatening them in the coming days.
Like the warm Utah sunshine, the coffee at Latté Da’s did a good job of bringing the younger crowd out in droves on early Sunday mornings. Grace