Page 65 of Saints & Sinners

Silas groaned but got up and nudged Brandon along, muttering something about how they should go before the prequels started playing. The two of them shuffled to their rooms, leaving Grace and me alone. Her eyes darted up to mine, hesitant but curious,as she slowly got up from the sofa and tucked a curl behind her ear.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, shrugging it off.

She looked down, fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt. Her cheeks faintly flushed, and I found myself wanting to smile. “Thank you, by the way... for bringing me to the Healers Sector. I know I was probably a mess.”

She wasn’t. I was.

“I’m glad you used the weapon,” I said, keeping my tone even despite how helpless I had felt, seeing her unconscious. “Didn’t think you’d get that far.”

She narrowed her eyes in amusement, but then she bit her lip and glanced around the living room. “Anyway I... I wanted to talk to you about the Riftkeeper’s,” she whispered. “I discovered a few things the other day that might interest you.”

She led me to her room, where we would have more privacy. When she closed the door, her nerves were more visible.

“What is it then?”

She bit her lip and gestured to a spread of images—crime scenes with marks on the bodies that made my blood go cold. The Riftkeeper mark burned into their skin of two arrows facing opposite directions, encased in a thorny circle. Their mark was to signify the divide between Celestial realms and earth, that there was never an escape for their targets.

As I stared at the photos, my fingers twitched with unkempt rage, but Grace covered them with a notepad, making me look at her instead.

“The other day,” she said, “I was told that Riftkeeper’s hideouts could be linked to black markets and underground areas.”

I was about to question who had told her that when she clicked through a few images on her computer and showed me articlesabout different murders in towns nearby.

“See, these were all dismissed as cult killings, but then I went to the library again and spoke to the cherub—” Her voice faltered, like being in the library after Lucas’s death unsettled her. “He confirmed that Riftkeeper’s operate mostly in hidden places, you know, underground clubs, drug dens—places off-grid.” She glanced up at me. “I looked up closed warehouses nearby and found a few that could be it.”

A sense of pride stirred in my chest as I took in her handiwork. She’d been thorough, down to the last detail. “Impressive,” I murmured. “I’ll check it out this weekend, now that the ban’s been lifted.”

Grace immediately straightened. “I’m coming with you.”

I chuckled. Cute joke. “Not a chance.”

Her jaw tightened, and I knew that look of hers all too well. She wasn’t going to back down. “I’ll be careful. Besides, I’m the one helping you remember?”

I shook my head. “We’re talking about Riftkeeper’s, Grace. Fucked-up people who will take one look at you and know you don’t belong there.”

“Oh, and you don’t think they’ll figure out what you are? You got attacked not so long ago, remember?”

I didn’t tell her that it wasn’t the Riftkeeper’s who had done that. No one needed to know. No one should. “Grace—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice unyielding. “I said I was helping you, and I’m not going to do that by staying here, giving you directions like some sidekick. Everyone keeps saying I need to be safe, that I should always be hiding from the Riftkeeper’s. I’ve been running from them for years now. I’m tired of it.”

Silence stretched between us, and the way her eyes burned with stubborn determination, I knew I wasn’t winning this argument. I let out a frustrated exhale. “Fine. Fine! But you always follow my lead, and if anything goes wrong, you’re out. Youunderstand?”

A hint of satisfaction softened her expression, and she nodded. “Deal.”

Fuck, me. This girl.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The forest was quiet except for the crunch of damp leaves underfoot. Grace followed me, sticking close as we navigated through the trees. When we finally reached the car, I pulled back the tarp that was covering it, and she hesitated, looking at the rusted exterior with a mixture of doubt and, if I wasn’t mistaken, a bit of fear.

I tapped the hood and smirked in hopes of making light of this. “It’s reliable... most of the time.”

She frowned.

Guess, I failed.

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