Grace and Glory (The Harbinger 3) - Page 55

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 to 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.

Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout The Harbinger Fantasy
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