Airs & Graces by Jeffrey Cook, A.J. Downey

“Is it the book? For unfolding and keys and all that?” She looked at me, and a car passed by on the street. We’d need to tend to the wounds more thoroughly, she’d need food, and we needed to read – without drawing too much attention.
    One hasty washing-off of blood and one cab ride later, we were sitting in a greasy-spoon diner near the center of the city. People stared. Perhaps it was the bandages under my leather coat, or the mussed appearance I displayed, but it seemed that I was drawing attention. After a moment, I realized it was the fact that I had not changed clothes since I’d been to Earth, and Adelaide, freshly scrubbed in a fancy vintage Asian-style dress over her jeans, made for quite the contrast.
    Rather than correct the problem, I ignored it. They were looking at us for a reason outside of the reason I’d hoped to avoid them looking at us, so I let it go.
    Adelaide, shifting in her seat, began to speak quietly. “I think I figured some of this out on my own, so can I just tell you what I think is going on and have you correct me if I am wrong? It might be easier than a whole bunch of little questions.”
    I nodded.
    “Okay then,” she continued. “I got to work, and my boss was on the floor dying. I couldn’t find a phone, and I didn’t want to leave him, and I saw one under a desk. I grabbed it, and an awful sound came out of it, and a projector came on, but it wasn’t a projector was it? It was whatever Piorre put into me coming online. The Angel’s Grace, you said. Whatever that is.”
    I nodded again.
    “Then that Rahab guy showed up, and he was some sort of Demon.”
    “Not a Demon, but one of the Fallen, yes,” I corrected softly. The distinctions might not come easy to her, but I had agreed to set her straight.
    “Okay, not a Demon, but a Fallen Angel.” She took a breath. “Then we went to a frat house that wasn’t a frat house but some kind of HQ for the Archangels, where we met Uriel, Gabriel and Michael, and I had my first solid vision thing from this Grace stuff.”
    I once more nodded. That had been my indication that the bonding had happened, after all.
    “I saw something, but I don’t know how this Grace stuff works, I’m pretty sure it just shows me shit that’s already happened, and I’m not gonna lie, Tab: what I saw was pretty awful. If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine, but can you at least confirm or deny if it was something that really happened?”
    “I’d need to know what you saw.” I had my fears.
    Another deep breath from Adelaide, and those fears were quietly confirmed. Changes in lighting and stone walls had led to a stone table, blood, and me. Her eyes occasionally went to my now-cropped shirt, perhaps wondering if there were scars on my chest underneath.
    “Yes,” I said. “That happened.”
    Her face fell further. “Do you want to talk about it?”
    “No.”
    “Okay.” I was grateful that Adelaide let it go. She took a breath, and continued. “So I came to outside of London, and you looked fit to be tied, then you said something about pulling the Grace from my being, which I am guessing is what is giving me these looks into the past. You wanted it out of me and thought it would get sorted separately.”
    I nodded. “I had initially thought that.” I didn’t want to focus on my misjudgment of Iaoel and did not precisely need to, as she’d asked me only to correct her when she said something inaccurate.
    “At this point all these questions come up, but we’ll get to that later. Thank you for being patient with me. Where was I?”
    “The Abbey,” I said, preparing myself for the barrage of questions about Hadad. His names, nature, and history were complex enough for even a more focused and informed person.
    “Right, so you said something about this Grace stuff being in me and some mess it once caused, and before I know it, we’re marching up the road to see an old enemy of yours. So when you were talking to the scary