Saving Grace

  She smiled and offered me a water bottle. "They say you have to give yourself a little alcohol when you wake up with a hangover, it's supposed to make it better. You know the hair of the dog that bit you?"

  "Lea, just let me rot in here for a while. Please?"

  Pinching the tip of her nose, she scolded me. "You certainly smell like you're rotting in here. And no, I'm not letting you do that, so shut the hell up about it."

  I placed the cup of mint poison on the floor next to my mattress and pulled myself up more to lean against the wall where the headboard of my bed used to be. I ran my hands through my hair, well at least I tried, but tangles of knots stopped me.

  "Listen to me," she begged, nudging my knee softy. "I have no idea what happened with that angel of yours, but if he chose something else over you, he doesn't know what he'll be missing and he sure as hell isn't worth all the time you spent searching for him. Bu t, Grace, you are here and from what I can piece together, he isn't. So my advice to you is pull yourself together and start living your life. Forget about him."

  I exhaled a long breath. "Yeah. Just forget him."

  Something sparked in her big brown eyes. "You've heard the saying that I live by, right?"

  "Hmm. Which one is that? The one that Mae West said? A hard man is good to find."

  "Oh, yeah that's a good one. No. The best way to get over one man is to get under another one! I don't know the first girl who said it, but those are words to live by!"

  I actually cracked a smile. But it was short lived. I thought about the first pair of lips that had ever touched min e . H ow my soul ha d never quite recovered from the absence of them.

  "By the way, I um, I kind of told Shane some things about your past when he was in the hospital with me, before, um, everything. Hopefully, he'll just think I was having a moment of insanity and forget everything I said," Lea whispered. Her hands twisted at the cuffs of her sleeves again, and tears brimmed her eyes. "This is all so screwed up; it's majorly fucked on so many levels."

  I was surprised my eyes stayed dry after hearing his name again. "No worries. Trust m e, Shane isn't the same person he was when I was in the hospital. He probably doesn't even remember the conversation."

  She tilted her head and gave me a questioning stare. She opened her mouth, about to say something els e, but I interrupted her before she could speak.

  " Loo k, forget about it. I'll go take a shower now and maybe I'll go for a walk or a run or something." I didn't want to think about Shane Maxton anymore or what soul lived in his body now. I could barely manage to figure out how to step one foot in front of the other, let alone how I was going to deal with Shane.

  I eyed my sneakers in the corner. "Yeah, I think I'm going to try to go for a run. That always makes me feel better." I picked them up and ran into the hallwa y, leaving Lea sitting alone on my mattress in my empty room.

  "Wait!" Lea yelled after me. "You should really clean yourself up first! You look like crap! And what about the detectives?" She screamed some more profanities at m e, but I was already halfway down the block.

  Without even stretching, which I completely acknowledged I would be kicking myself in the ass for later, I ran full speed towards Fifth Avenue. I crossed Fifth and ran straight into Central Park, pounding my heels against the pavement. It had been over a month since I ran and I felt the shallow breath in my lungs immediately, but I didn't stop.

  It was a warm day for New York City even though it was the middle of March. That was the month now, March. I missed the rest of February, completely missed Valentine's Day and now it was March. The end of March.

  In the last five and a half weeks of Grace's life, my life, it had completely turned upside down. Five and a half weeks ago, I was the hot rock goddess of the popular band Mad World, staring at an intense, um, sexual relationship with the most exquisite man on earth and now, well, right now I felt like hurling myself into one of the lakes in Central Park. How the hell am I supposed to get through this? Just like always, pretend that everything is great? Everything is normal? How the hell am I going to look at Shane Maxton again? Not that he's been around at all. He's the only one that hadn't visited me since I woke up.

  I pushed forward. I focused my eyes on an invisible spot on an invisible horizon and just ran. I didn't feel it when my sides began to ache, or when my shins and knees protested against my movement s, but when my endorphins kicked in, I felt the rush. I felt the rush of life through my veins. It spiked with a blinding white heat across every part of my body. I stumbled to a park bench and sat down heavily against the wood planks.

  I inhaled the crisp cool air and closed my eyes. The foggy thoughts that had been hanging heavy in my mind seemed to clear a fraction. Yeah, maybe Lea was right. Maybe I should just start living this life.

  Chapter 7

  He slid his warm hands under my shirt and slowly traced his fingertips along the small of my back and up my spine. His touch was killing me, killing my soul; just leaving me wanting and needing.

  I slid my hands up the front of his shirt, telling myself it was for the warmth, but I was never a good liar. His body was soft and deliciously warm, and the restraint was torturous.

  A low moan escaped from his lips. He pushed himself up against me and gently pulled me into a sitting position, my legs straddling him. This is too dangerous, too toxic; too beautiful.

  He ran feathery fingers through my hair and around to the nape of my neck. I trembled under his touch. I was a complete dripping, hot disaster; falling into pieces, wanting him to fill me and put me back together.

  "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Grace?" His voice was low and husky, and he gazed at me, ice blue eyes concentrating hard. It took my breath away. "Just one kiss, Grace..."

  His slow deliberate hands moved over my skin, fingers trembling. It unleashed an inferno that coursed through my body. Every move he made was so freaking erotic.

  "Just one," I whispered. Then his lips touched mine. It was barely a kiss; his lips hovered over mine, taking the briefest of moments to savor the intensity.

  "Grace," he sighed and his lips devoured mine. I fell completely apart in his arms, his touch unraveled me, and his kiss brought me back together, complete. I wanted all of him; I was completely in love with this man.

  "Grace! Wake up! Hurry up!" Lea was banging on my bedroom door. She threw it open and it bashed itself against the wall, knocking down my guitar case. "Crap! Sorry." She bent down and fumbled with the case, leaned it back against the wall, and looked at me for the first time. "Are you okay? You look like you have a fever or something."

  "Uh," was all I could get out of my mouth. My lips still felt raw from my dream and I desperately wanted her to get the fuck out of my room so I could finish it.

  "Get dressed and come into the living room, the detectives are here to interview you about what you remember. Since you haven't gone to them, they're here, so let's go. Ethan and Conner are on their way for moral support and all." She gave me a strained smile as her eyes flitted around my room. What the hell?

  Lea sighed, opened my dresser draws, and pulled out a black bra and a pair of red underwear. She held them up, "Where are your matching sets?" Tears slid down her cheeks and her shoulders trembled as she stood there waiting for my answer.

  "What the hell kind of interview should I be expecting? The fuck I care if my bra and panties match." I was still breathless from the dream and I could still feel his fingers trail along my skin. Hot streaks of lava. Crap.

  "This is important, Grace. You have no idea what this has done to everyone! Snap out of your shitty funk and get the heck up and get dressed!" She was sobbing uncontrollably.

  What has this had done to everyone? What the? The last time I checked, I was the only person who got stabbed by some psycho fallen angel and spent four weeks in a medically induced coma. A place where, I might add, allowed the psycho fallen angel to torture me. Oh, and let's not forget that I watched the love of my existence walk the hell away from me
and leave me here to rot on earth! And the fact that I can't make a clear freaking thought in my head because I feel like it's stuffed full of cotton!

  Some sort of enraged expression must have crossed my face, because she covered her eyes with her hands and sobbed harder. "I'm sorry, Grace. This is just hard for me. You almost died, and it's all so messed up."

  I felt my features soften. My fists that had my sheets tightly clenched in them relaxed, and I gradually made myself stand up. "Everything is okay, Lea. Look, I'm fine. I'll get dressed and come out in a minute. Go make some coffee for the detectives or something. I'll be right there."

  Changing into the unmatched underwear, I watched myself in the full-length mirror on the inside of my closet door. The scar along the left side of my body ran from the top of my ribcage all the way to my left hip. It was a thin pink jagged line, raised a bit over the rest of my ivory white skin. Frankenbelly.

  I understood why Lea was a mess. She just went through the loss of my brother Jacob, who was like a brother to her and me almost dying on her. I needed to remember how sensitive she was, but yet, I couldn't help feeling selfish and not care as much as I should. I wanted to stay in bed, wear the same old ratty clothes, and drink myself stupid until my once vibrant world faded into the soft hues of gray. Into nothingness. I wanted the loss of him to consume me until I was no more. For the first time in my existence, I didn't want to care about anybody else but me, and how to stop my heartache.

  The doorbell rang and I could hear Lea introducing Conner and Ethan to whoever the officers were. Exhaling a deep breath, I felt relieved that Conner was there for Lea. He always made her feel better. Safer.

  I slipped on a pair of old jeans and a plain white tee shirt. I twisted my waist length jet-black hair into a messy bun. Wavy tendrils of hair spiked out all over the top of my head; I reminded myself of Medusa. Slipping my fluffy teddy bear slippers on, I walked out of my bedroom and down the hallway.

  Two plain-clothes detectives were s tanding in the living room. Before I could catch my breath, Ethan and Conner were standing next to me. Ethan grabbed me in his arms, "I can't believe this is all happening. We're right here if you need us," he whispered his hot breath into my ear.

  I gawked at him. I wondered if I lost some important body part in the hospital that no one told me about yet. "Yeah, um, okay...thanks, Ethan."

  The male detective held out his hand to me. "Miss Taylor? Good morning. I'm Detective Steve Fanning and this is Detective Vicki Sorens. We're here to formally interview you about your incident; I hope you're feeling better."

  His handshake was firm and strong. Detective Soren's, not so much. She kind of eyed me like I was her favorite dessert and gave me a tight smile painted blood red. I pictured her pulling out a riding crop and lunging for me.

  I shook the thoughts away. "Hello, detectives, would you like to sit?"

  Detective Fanning sat on one of our side chairs and offered me thanks . His eyes were kind and he kept a friendly, fatherly sort of smile on his face. "Sorry, we don't mean to interrupt. We realized that it was proving to be difficult for you to get down to the station house for our interview. I hope you don't mind us paying you a visit like this. I know you've been through a very traumatic experience, and we understand that you've recently awakened from a medically induced coma, so you may not remember many answers, but I'd like you to answer the best you can, okay? Just the facts and circumstances as you remember them."

  I nodded. I lost track of where the other detective was, she seemed to fade into the background along with my friends and got lost in the fog that seemed to occupy my thoughts daily. I sat down on the couch and pulled my feet underneath myself, crushing the faces of the cute teddy bears on my slippers. For a split second, I became horrified that the poor things were hurt. I wished I could crawl back in bed.

  "Can you tell me your full name?" Detective Fanning asked.

  "Grace Avery Taylor," I replied.

  "Miss Taylor, can you tell me your birthday?"

  I hesitated. I looked around the room a little then answered, "December 21." I started to freak out a little bit. That should have been an easy question, right?

  "Do you recall what high school you went to?" he continued.

  Tears welled in my eyes and I sucked my cheeks in. It took me a minute to visualize the front doors and the name written there. Why were these questions important? Did they want to see how long it would take me to snap? Because I was getting really tight around my neck and I squirmed uncomfortably on the couch. "Brant Point High," I seethed.

  "That's good, Miss Taylor. You're doing great. Brant Point High, that's one of the most prestigious schools in New York City. They have a great football team, eh?"

  When I made no sound to answer, he continued with his questioning, " Oka y, Miss Taylor, what's your mother's maiden name?"

  My hands balled into fists. "It was Evelyn Canton, but she passed away about ten years ago. My father's name was Carlson Taylor, but he passed away the same time as my mother. My brother's name was Jacob Taylor, and he passed away about six weeks ago. Would you like to know about my pets as a child?"

  "Miss Taylor," Detective Blood Red Lips snapped, "We appreciate the extent of your loss and the traumatizing effects of being a victim of such a violent assaul t. Our job is to make sure we get all the fact s. We're still trying to understand what happened, so the perpetrator can be prosecuted to the highest degree." As she spoke, she placed her hand on the crook of my arm. It wasn't gentle.

  I waited for the riding crop. It didn't come ou t, but I knew she wanted it to.

  "Do you remember what happened to you?" Detective Fanning asked. I could hear Lea whimper.

  "I wa s... um ... stabbed. Along the left side of my body," I whispered.

  "Do you know why?"

  Yeah, jackass. A fucking fallen angel busted out of hell and had his sights set on me and taking over the heavens. "No. I don't know."

  "Do you remember how it happened?"

  "I was running away from him. There had been a blizzard and I tried to run through the snow, but I didn't get very far. He hit me with something," I explained hesitantly. The more I talked, the more the haziness that blurred my thoughts cleared. "He um, kneeled over me and pinned me down. I remember the knife by my face while he talked to me, and I could see the snowflakes falling. Then he cut me. And dragged the knife down."

  "And what did Mr. Maxton say when he talked to you before he allegedly stabbed you?"

  "Wh...who?" I stammered.

  Detective Fanning offered me another one of his kind smiles. Immediately I wanted to rip it off his face. "Your attacker, Miss Taylor."

  "You said Mr. Maxton, Detective. Are you talking about Shane Maxton?" I asked, voice cracking. A strange heat spread across my chest and shoulders. My heart pounded against my chest.

  "Yes, Miss Taylor. Shane Maxton is being held on an Assault 1, it's a Class B felony."

  "Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say?" Hot tears poured from my eyes.

  Ethan and Lea rushed over to me as I stood up. They each grabbed a side of me. Lea was crying and Ethan looked as if he was about to.

  "Miss Taylor," Detective Fanning interrupted. "Shane had your blood all over him. He was saying it was all his fault. At first, it looked to be a clear-cut case. A love triangle. Shane the jealous lover."

  I looked both detectives in their eyes. It was like I had just woken up that very minute from my coma. "I don't have a lover, Detective, let alone a triangle of them! Shane Maxton did not attack me! Blake was there, ask Blake!"

  Detective Fanning's kind smile disappeared, his deep brown eyes looked surprised and he turned to my friends with an accusatory stare. "We tried to take Blake Bevli's statement at the hospital, but he was incoherent."

  "So ask him again! Shane Maxton did not hurt me physically in any way!"

  Unprofessionally, Detective Sorens barked out a laugh, her red lips curled back like she was a demon, "Yeah, well we can ask him now can we?
Dead people don't usually talk."

  "WHAT?" I yelled. Waves of nausea rolled through my stomach, crashing themselves against my insides. I clutched at my stomach and looked around the room at the people who were surrounding me. Lea was cradled in Conner's arms sniffling, and Ethan hung his head down low. How could no one have told me this? Or had they, and I was too heartbroken and drunk to remember?

  Detective Fanning gently took hold of my hand and he gave Lea, Conner, and Etha n, one last disappointed glare. "I'm sorry to have had to be the one to tell you," he said in a soft voice. "I'm truly sorry. What was your relationship with Blake Belvi?"

  My mind whirled and spun out of my control. I should have realized Blake would be dead. He had to have been dead if a fallen angel took over his body. It was the only way they could be human; as human as they could be for a while anyway. Blake was dead before I even met him the day before the snowstorm.

  "Uh, how...what?" I couldn't form a complete sentence. I grasped through the fog in my head to try to find the answers they needed to hear. If I couldn't, Shane would be gone for a long time and he didn't deserve that.

  "He overdosed." The statement floored me. I wondered if that's what really happened to him when that damn angel had taken over.

  Detective Fanning's soft voice continued probing, "What was your relationship with Mr. Belvi, Grace, you haven't answered that question yet."

  I focused my eyes on the detective's. "I did not have a relationship with Blake. I had only known him for a day, Detective. He was Tucker's cousin. Tucker and the rest of my friends thought it would be safest for me to stay at the Belvi's winter house, because someone tried to kill me by starting a fire in my apartment." I took a deep breath, "A fire that I only survived because Shane Maxton crawled through flames and carried me out!" I started pacing the floor.

  "That's the reason we need your statement about the events of the night, Miss Taylor. Things just don't add up, there are many holes in the story and we'd like you to fill them in," Detective Sorens explained.