Damnable Grace (Hades Hangmen #5)

As if being wrapped in the safety of God’s arms, I drew in a deep breath and let my mind fill with tranquility, and dance with light and life. No stress, no pain . . . just a river of peace.

I felt the needle slip from my flesh, followed by the stubble of Meister’s jaw as he leaned over to kiss me and tell me he’d be back soon. I didn’t hear the door close when he left. I closed my eyes and fell into the sun.

I was in a forest, deep in a magical heaven. I danced among the trees, feeling the leaves flutter through my fingers, the grass soft beneath my feet. Light music floated on the air, urging my body to sway to the beat.

I loved to dance. It was my most favorite thing in the world.

I swirled, and I smiled when I saw my Rebekah enter the clearing, as beautiful as I had ever seen her. Her long blond hair was flowing down her back, and her blue eyes were bright and filled with joy.

“Rebekah,” I breathed. I threw my arms around her and held her closely to me. Rebekah laughed her sweet laugh against my ear.

“I am well, Phebe.” Her soft, delicate voice drifted over me like a prayer.

“Truly?” I asked through a tight throat. “The last time I saw you . . . what Judah had done . . . what those men had done . . .”

“Shh . . .” Rebekah soothed, stroking her hand through my hair. “I am happy, and . . .” Rebekah pulled back and turned toward the forest edge. “Come,” she instructed someone. A high-pitched giggle split through the warm night, and my heart clenched, so tightly it did not seem possible.

“Grace.” I covered my mouth to stop the sob escaping my throat. Grace ran into Rebekah’s waiting arms and held her close . . . like a child would cling to her mother.

“She found you,” I gasped, tears streaming down my face.

“She did,” Rebekah said as Grace reached out for my embrace. I wrapped the little blond girl in my arms and cried into her soft hair.

“You are safe now,” I murmured and felt Grace nod. I opened my eyes to see Rebekah watching on, such sweet love in her eyes. “Forgive me, Rebekah,” I pleaded. “For not saving you when I should have. For not protecting you when you were young. For what Judah did to you on that hill . . .”

Rebekah came closer, shaking her head. “There is nothing to forgive, Phebe. You saved Grace. We are happy now. You saved me by saving her.”

“Happy,” I cried. Happy . . . safe . . .

“Sister Phebe?”

I slowly turned around. There she stood, in a white dress, with that long blond hair and those deep dark eyes I knew so well. Our eyes met, and she smiled at me. I got to my feet, feeling the same overwhelming love build within me that I felt every time my eye lay upon her. “Sapphira,” I whispered. She had grown some since I had last seen her, reading scriptures together in the commune, lying amongst the bluebonnets in spring, hands held and smiling under the warmth of the sun. No men, no duties . . . just happiness in one another’s company. And she had grown even more beautiful, if that was possible. She ducked her head as I gazed at her. She was so shy, always had been. So quiet, but so beautiful in nature. I ran my hand through her soft hair and felt my heart flutter, then shatter apart. “I have not seen you in so long,” I said, my voice catching.

“I know.” A tear slipped down her cheek, and I caught it with my finger. It was warm, just like her. “I . . . I have missed you.” Her quiet confession tore my soul in two. In a heartbeat, I had her wrapped in my arms. She still smelled the same, still felt the same in my arms.

“I miss you too, Sapphira. So much. So much that at times I cannot breathe.”

“I wish to come back to you,” she pleaded, and held on to me tighter.

“It is not safe,” I said, crying. “Where I am is not safe for you.”

“I know,” she relented, but she did not move from my embrace. She wanted to stay with me, I could feel it in my soul. My heart soared. I wanted her to stay too.

I opened my eyes, smiling, happier than I ever dreamed I could be, but then the forest began to fade. The trees began to disappear into blackness, the sun dipping behind a too-near horizon. I tried to grip on to Sapphira tighter, but I began to lose the feel of her in my arms. Her body shimmered before me, turning into vapor. I blinked, to try and see her just once more, to kiss her cheek and tell her I loved her. But then I was falling, falling until I hit something hard, so hard it robbed me of my breath. I cried out, arms outstretched, trying to climb back into the forest, but the darkness began to lighten, then cleared to show me the inside of a small room.

I was back in my bed, chained, with my arms stretched high in the air. “No,” I whispered, devastation ripping through me. “No!” I cried again, curling on my side to try and bring back the light.

I wanted to go back into the light.

I needed more potion to help me return.

Then I heard him breathe.

Tears fell like waves down my cheeks as my euphoric high came crashing down into utter despair. Meister’s hand reached out and smoothed away the wetness from my cheeks. “Liebchen . . .” he murmured. When I looked to him—because I knew that I must—he had removed his shirt to reveal the huge black tattoo emblazoned in the center of his chest. The symbol that he had replicated on many other parts of his pale skin, the symbol that hung on large red, white and black flags around the room.

“You dreamed of her again?” he said softly, bringing his face closer to mine. The potion was fading, and I felt a deep hollowness in my stomach, in my heart. I opened my mouth to beg him for more. I wanted more of the potion. But before I could, Meister’s eyes clouded with darkness. “Answer me!” he ordered.

The hand that only a few seconds ago had been so gentle on my cheeks suddenly became cruel as he gripped my jaw and glared at me with menace in his eyes.

“Yes,” I said, pushing the words through my constricted throat. “I dreamed of her.”

He relaxed his grip. “Funny how the heroin makes you talk in your dreams, as if you are seeing everything in real life.” His head tilted to the side. “The way you cry for her. Want her in your arms.” Then he dealt his final insult. “But you didn’t fight for her, did you? You lost her, and now she’s gone forever.” He tapped my head. “Only in here does she need you. Because you failed her.” He tutted his disapproval. “You were a terrible, terrible protector. A horrible sister.”

His grip tightened again on my jaw, so tight that I cried out, terrified my bones would shatter under his great strength. He bared his teeth and hissed, “And Grace was there again too? The pretty little one you hid from me.” His nose slid against mine, seductively, affectionately, until his mouth touched my ear. “She would have made me a fuck-ton of money, but you let her go. You took her from me.” He released me and I gasped in relief.

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