most powerful in Heaven—with the most to lose, the most to forget—
became the youngest on earth.
Lara was nine when she Fel .
She had always felt special—favored—because Simon Axton himself had found her. Not that she’d trusted him at the time, she recal ed rueful y. Her short, brutal, bewildering experience on earth had taught her to be wary of strangers, particularly men.
But something in her had recognized and responded to the tal , terrifying headmaster. And she had fal en in love with the school at first sight. To her child’s eyes, the four-story fieldstone building, with its gabled roof and uncompromising lines, had the appearance of a fortress.
Rockhaven represented order. Permanence.
Safety.
The school became the only home she remembered.
The only family she knew.
Moonlight gleamed on the rows of dark windows. The sky overhead pulsed with stars. Cool night air flowed through the open window.
Lara inhaled in relief. Her responsibility was almost over.
The consequences of her decision, good or bad, would be determined by the schoolmasters.
F o r g o t t e n s e a 3 3
She smoothed the hair from Justin’s forehead, combing the matted strands with her fingers. His long body was crammed on the seat beside her, his neck and legs at awkward angles, one arm across his chest. Blood blackened the napkins stuck to his wound. She was afraid to disturb him, worried the bleeding would start again.
Terrified that this time when she tried to rouse him, he wouldn’t regain consciousness.
Yel ow light spil ed from the west portico. Not everyone at the school was sleeping. Somebody was waiting up for them.
She clasped Justin’s unresponsive hand. Al arriving nephilim were screened and welcomed by at least one of the governors. Often the rescued children needed medical attention. Most required a period of education and adjustment as they eased into their new bodies and community life.
She tightened her hold on Justin’s hand. His skin was warm. Feverish? He definitely needed a doctor. But he was not a child.
Lara swal owed against the constriction of her throat.
He wasn’t nephilim either.
She had overstepped—again—by bringing him here.
What would the consequences be this time?
*
*
*
Justin swayed as Lara and the Boyfriend supported him out of the car. Nothing wrong with his legs. It was his head that hurt. But the ground pitched under him like a ship’s deck in a squal . His stomach rol ed like a rookie sailor’s. He needed to pee. Preferably without help.
needed to pee. Preferably without help.
Gritting his teeth, he dragged his feet up the shal ow stone steps.
“One more,” Lara said. “You’re doing fine.”
He appreciated her concern. And the lie.
3 4
V i r g i n i a K a n t r a
They maneuvered through a doorway with stained glass insets. He kept his head down, taking stock of his surroundings from beneath his lashes. Carved wood panel wal s, old, dark, muted paintings, a curving staircase fit for a hotel. A chandelier, an explosion of light and color sparkling with crystals and candles, threw patterns on the hardwood floor.
The place didn’t look like a hospital, he noted with relief.
But there was a vaguely institutional smel in the air, a patina of many bodies over time, a whiff of dust and floor polish.
“Where . . . are we?” he croaked.
“Home,” Lara said.
Justin tried to get his mush-for-brains to work. He had no home.
So, okay, this was Lara’s home. Would they take him in because she brought him here? Did he want them to?
He looked at the two people waiting under the light, a man and a woman, both tal and arrestingly beautiful, not old, not young. The woman’s skin was the color of coffee, the man’s face austere and pale. Something about the guy, his cool blue eyes or his chiseled profile or his stick-up-the-butt attitude, reminded Justin of . . . somebody.
