Page 14

Gemma

I raced to school the next morning, eager to get to class before Kerry and apologize. Waiting outside Angelic languages, I stood on my tiptoes, craned my head to see around milling students, and ignored the curious looks I was getting. Gigi joined me, but I knew she was casting more worried glances at me than helping to watch for him.

“Come on,” she said at last. “He’s not coming.”

Bitterly disappointed, I went with her and tried to make it through the morning without crying.

I’ll never forgive myself for hurting him so badly, I thought as I trudged to the gym. I can only imagine how betrayed he must be feeling.

I dragged myself through classes and lunch, where I picked at my food and struggled to smile at Jax’s jokes and listen to Gigi’s conversation, but I knew I wasn’t fooling them.

After school, I went to work, then back to my room, did my homework, and tried to work on a crochet project, but ended up crying myself to sleep.

The next morning, I waited for him outside the classroom again, anxiety at war with hope. When he didn’t show up, my shoulders sank and I let Gigi steer me through the door and into my seat.

The rest of the day was pretty much a sad repeat of the one before.

#

Kerry

I slept straight through the rest of the day into the next afternoon. Me and Hank ate an early supper as I told him my idea to make up with Gemma. It took some planning and Hank called in a favor or two, but we eventually flew into White Plains and rented a car.

It didn’t take long to find Paul Shepherd’s martial arts dojo, and Hank distracted Gemma’s uncle while I broke into the apartment above it.

Sneaking into her old bedroom, I felt like she was hugging me. Her scent was everywhere. I scanned the room and figured her uncle hadn’t touched it yet. Stuffed animals on a purple bedspread. A pair of headphones with cat ears lay on the nightstand. Clothes and shoes and books and bins of yarn scattered everywhere.

And lights. I counted at least three nightlights around the room as well as a bedside lamp, a desk lamp, and rope lights outlining the ceiling.

Okay. The girl likes light.

After another minute of looking, I found what I wanted and thought about taking more, knowing she probably missed a lot of her stuff, but Hank had warned me Uncle Paul would notice if too many things went missing. So I slipped out of the window and down the fire escape and met up with Hank.

“Find something?” he asked.

“This’ll work, right?” When I showed him the prize, he nodded, and I blew out a heavy breath, ashamed of what I’d screamed at her. “I just hope she’ll see me long enough for me to apologize.”

“She will. I’m sure of it.”

Since we had some time before the return flight, Hank said I could grab one of my caches, which was a relief. I picked up the small one in Midtown, pocketed the valuables outta it, and tossed the smokes without him even having to ask.

Our flight ended up being delayed, and I killed time by asking him some questions I shoulda weeks ago. Like, where my demon was.

“Well, you can’t do anything to the demon itself. It can only send part of its essence to our plane. Most nephs call it a shadow, but the official term is an—”

“Avatar. I know about demons, Hank.” Cussing under my breath, I dropped my head back and stared at the ceiling. “What did you do with it?”

“A warden, Nathaniel Snyder, captured it and has been studying it. When he’s finished, he’ll deposit it in the Council’s storage vault.”

“What’d he use? Reliquary?”

“Pyx.”

“Little round box thing?” I lifted my head to look at him.

“Yes. Pretty standard item in our arsenal. Most wardens carry one.”

He shifted in his chair, reached into his back pocket, and pulled one out. Twirling it around, he held it up, but knew better than to hand it to me. Not even a grace of refuge would protect me from something Blessed like that.

“Huh. And I thought that worn spot on your jeans was from a can of snuff.”

He snorted and put the pyx away.

A pyx would hold the shadow just fine. I don’t have to worry about it rejoining the demon back in the Pit. While it would wonder why it had lost contact with that part of itself, the demon wouldn’t be in too much of a hurry to let the fact be known among its kind.

Demons weigh everything by weakness and strength. Losing part of your essence makes you weak, and that makes you a target. It wouldn’t go blabbing through the Diabolical world that it had lost its host because that would make it vulnerable.

“You know,” Hank interrupted my thoughts, “someday, your demon may come looking for its missing bit.”

“Just gives me more fuel to keep going, don’t it?”

My grin musta been savage; the lady across from us jerked to her feet and hurried away.

If it sent another shadow, the demon would find out pretty quick I was free. Then it would have two pieces of its essence bound and be weakened that much more. It wouldn’t come after me a third time, which was both good and bad. Good because I’d be completely free of it and bad because I wouldn’t get to fight it anymore.

An hour later, we boarded the plane, then sat on the runway for another hour. It was a tiny bird—Hank called it a tin can with wings—and my knees kept ramming into the back of the seat in front of me. The dude kept looking back and giving me the stink eye, but, honestly, I didn’t know what I could do about it.

It started to make me angry, so I traded places with Hank and stretched my legs out into the aisle. That kinda worked, but by the time we landed, I was cranky, cramped, and tired.

As soon as we got back to the cottage, I ditched my shoes and passed out on my bed.

#

Gemma

By lunch on Friday, my friends had had enough.

“Okay, that’s it.” Jax looked irritated. “Come with us.”

He looped one arm through mine and Gigi did the same on the other side, and before I could pull away, they towed me along and led me down the garden path toward Kerry’s cottage.

“No, no, no!” I dug in my heels. “This is not a good idea. It’ll set him off. It’ll make things worse.”

“How can it be worse?” Jax asked.

“Be brave, Gemma.” Gigi patted my arm.

We reached the front porch and the traitors pushed me forward. I turned and glared at them, but took a deep breath and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, Hank opened it with a pleasant smile.

“Hello. I’m glad you came. He missed you.”

He stepped to the side and motioned us in. We followed him into the living room and I stood there, feeling awkward.

“You’ve got good timing. We’ve only been back maybe two hours. Our flight was delayed.”

“You were out of town?” Jax asked.

“Yes, but he can tell you about that. Kerry!” Hank turned his head and called. “Your friends are here!”

After telling us to make ourselves at home, he said he was going to make hot chocolate and disappeared into the kitchen. Jax and Gigi claimed the loveseat and, after seeing Hank had a book on the arm of the recliner, I took one end of the couch.

A few seconds later, I heard a door open and quick footsteps. When Kerry came into the room, it was obvious we’d woken him up. He was in his socks, his hair was all over the place, and he was rubbing one eye with his knuckle.

As he slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, straining his white t-shirt across his broad shoulders, I took a moment to appreciate how well he filled out his clothes.

He looks so much better than he did when I first saw him.

My eyes traced the muscles in his arms. He was bulking up fast, far from the gaunt skeleton he was the night we met. I wondered how he would look after a few more months of recovery, and my cheeks heated up as my imagination took off.

What? He was gorgeous .

He was also tense.

Well, he was always tense, but now a muscle ticked along his strong jawline and his lips were locked in a frown.

Uh-oh. He’s still upset. I hope he doesn’t yell at me again!

I twisted my fingers into knots and searched for something to say, but he beat me to it.

“Hey. So, uh, I was gonna come find you, but I was tired from all that flying. I’m sorry I blew up at you. Neither of you deserved that. Jax, you were trying to help me, arranging the hike and everything, and I ruined it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jax waved one hand. “We’re good.”

“And Gemma, I ’specially owe you an apology.”

He still didn’t look at me, and that was beginning to worry me. Whatever anyone said about Kerry Harker, he was not a coward. He faced things head-on.

“It’s okay if you wanna be friends with me, no matter what your reason.” He squared up his shoulders, his eyes on the floor. “I’m sorry I said I hated you. I didn’t mean it. I, uh, wanted to do something nice for you. You know, to show you how sorry I am. Wait a minute.”

He ducked back down the hallway before I could reply, and I glanced at my two friends. They sat side-by-side, holding hands, and smiled at me.

I couldn’t smile back.

Then Kerry returned and sank to his knees at my feet and held out a plain brown bag. I tried to catch his gaze, but he made sure I didn’t. Frowning, I took the bag and unfolded the top to find something I thought I’d lost forever.

Mom’s photo album.

Mom’s in here . And Uncle Paul. And my friends from school. My hand trembled as I touched the cover. How kind! And how insightful to know what I needed the most.

Kerry swore under his breath, and I realized he thought he’d made things worse.

“No, it’s okay. Thank you! Thank you so much! I can’t tell you what this means to me. I thought I’d never see it again. Thank you!”

I wanted to hug him, but he couldn’t tolerate that yet and I knew it. Instead, I reached one hand toward him and touched the tips of my fingers to his shoulder. It seemed as if we all held our breath when he froze, then sighed in relief as he relaxed.

“I’m sorry, Gemma.” He finally looked at me and his eyes broke my heart. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. And I think— I know I scared you when I lost my temper.”

“I forgive you. Thank you for giving me back my memories. Would you like to see a picture of my mother?”

“Yeah.”

Hank brought in the hot chocolate as I shared photographs and told the stories that went with them. Gigi cooed over my baby picture and Jax laughed uproariously at the one of my terrified face as I ran from a baby goat at my seventh birthday party.

As happy as I was, though, one small part of my heart was humbled by the blue-eyed boy kneeling at my feet.

He’s been broken down to his bones , yet can still care about others. He’s been tortured in every sense, yet can still feel sorry when he’s hurt someone. If that isn’t true courage, if that isn’t real strength, I don’t know what is