The Lost Saint Page 63

“That’s not nothing.” I grabbed his hand that held his shirt closed and pulled it away from his chest. I was right—the gashes were gone. The only evidence of them were three faint white scars. “What is this, Daniel? What’s going on?”

I grabbed his arm and pulled at the frayed bandage that covered the stitches he’d gotten at the hospital. I expected him to protest, to try to pull out of my grasp, but he only slumped against the wall again—resigned—as I removed the bandage.

Nothing was there. Not even a scar.

“What is going on?” I demanded.

“I don’t know,” Daniel whispered. He ran his hand over his uninjured arm. “I really don’t know.”

“But you did know this was happening. You’re angry at me for keeping secrets, and yet this is what you’re keeping from me?”

“I didn’t want to tell you yet.…”

“Because you don’t trust me?” I knew it was a stupid thing to ask. I knew I hadn’t been acting very trust worthy as of late—but this was too big of a thing to keep from me. “Or because you think I’m too weak to handle it?”

Daniel didn’t answer.

“Are all your powers coming back?” I asked.

“Yes. Slowly. But they’re developing.”

“Oh, God.” I stepped back until my knees hit the edge of the bed. “Does that mean you’re not cured? Does it mean …?”

Falling is inevitable … and there is no cure after all?

“I don’t know—” Daniel began, but he was interrupted by a loud banging noise on his front door.

“Grace Divine!” an angry voice shouted. “If you’re in there, you’d better come out now if you ever want to see the light of day again!”


“Get the hell out here now, young lady!” he shouted. “Or I will break down this door if I have to.”

I looked at Daniel. He pulled his shirt closed, and his eyes flitted to the rumpled bed. We both knew the door was unlocked.

“Go,” he said.

My heart ached like I’d never thought it could. Something was broken between Daniel and me, and I didn’t want to leave before I could fix it.

“This isn’t over.”

I heard the doorknob start to turn. I grabbed my backpack and bolted toward the door, using my super-speed to get there before the knob finished turning. I opened the door, stepped out in front of my livid father, and shut it behind me before he could see anything else.


The Big Bad Wolf


I had no idea my dad could scream that loud—or for that long. Apparently, Gabriel had filled him in on my escapades over the last two weeks, and how I’d run out on him. Dad yelled at me all the way home in the Corolla, and then we sat in the car in the driveway for a good long while because he wasn’t done. I was tired of telling my story, so when dad demanded more details, I rattled off every event that had happened in the last week like a robot stating facts—well, all the events except for the ones that involved my lips in any way. When I was done, I pretty much just shut down and listened to him yell at me some more. Dad was usually so even-keeled and forgiving that the whole thing felt completely surreal.

I could hear the wolf’s voice trying to edge its way into my head. Trying to get me to lash out at Dad with my words. I hated myself for how easy it had been for the wolf to make me forget everything that was important to me—even if it had been for only a few moments. What if Daniel hadn’t been able to stop me from hurting him? I would have lost everything. I clutched my moonstone necklace in both my hands and pushed the wolf away as best as I could. I couldn’t afford to let it have any control over me again.

I didn’t even blink until Dad pulled the car into the garage; he changed his tone to a softer, disappointed almost whisper. “The thing that hurts me most, Grace, is that you thought you had to try to find Jude on your own. If you hadn’t been so self-absorbed, you would have known that Gabriel and I have been out scouring the city for your brother. We already knew about the Shadow Kings.”

I bit my lip and nodded. Why does that make me want to cry? “Are you going to let Gabriel take me away to his pack?”

Dad shook his head. “I’m not letting you out of our sight.”

I shuddered with a grateful sob. “I assume I’m grounded, then.”

Dad made a scoffing laugh. “If you think you’ve been grounded before, you aren’t prepared for this kind of grounding.”


Dad wasn’t kidding. Not only was I under house arrest, but he escorted me to and from school each day, and every lunch I was required to spend with Gabriel in his classroom, learning the finer points of tai chi and meditation. The Good Samaritan project was cancelled by Gabriel, and the rest of the students were reassigned to helping Day’s Market get ready for its grand reopening. I was informed by my father, however, that I’d be helping my mom get ready for the Halloween festival concessions to fulfill the rest of my service project. For good measure, Dad nailed my bedroom window shut and took away my cell phone, because if I couldn’t bother to answer it “when it was imperative,” then I didn’t deserve to have one.

I’d lost the slip of paper with Talbot’s number on it, so without my cell I had no way of contacting him to tell him what had happened.

But the part that devastated me the most about being grounded was that, even though it was midterms week, Daniel didn’t show up for school the day after our fight. Or the next day. Or the day after that. I called him a few times from our home phone when my parents weren’t breathing down my back, but he never answered. And there was no way I was going to be able to stop by his apartment to see if he was okay.

On Wednesday I cornered April after art class and profusely apologized for getting mad at her for ratting me out to Gabriel—she really had done the right thing, after all. She forgave me immediately—but she sounded more than devastated when I told her I wasn’t going to be try to be a superhero anymore.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I’ve been working on the best costume design.”

“I’m sure it would have been fabulous,” I said. “But I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know how to tap into my powers without losing control. I can’t risk it again.”

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