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she was all that was holding her together. Kit’s entire covey of girlfriends was unabashed in their friendship, clinging to each other in a way that men never did, and these two alternated their tears, though only Kit sobbed. Grif had followed her to Fleur’s home, because she hadn’t been spending much time at her own mid-century ranch home. There were, he knew, too many memories of the two of them there together.
    â€œForget Griffin Shaw,” Fleur told Kit, smoothing Kit’s hair from her face, the flaming dice of her shoulder tattoo flaring with the motion.
    â€œI don’t want to forget him.”
    â€œWhy?” Fleur and Grif whispered at the same time.
    Kit stilled and looked up at her friend. Her face, usually powdered perfection, was naked today, almost translucent, and it only added to her air of vulnerability. Her eyes, swollen like storm clouds, were rimmed in angry red and swimming with tears. “Because if I forget that I loved him then it would be like it never happened. And that would mean that it didn’t really matter or that I never really lived it. And it did. I did.”
    â€œYou torture yourself.”
    â€œNo . . . I just don’t know how to get over him.”
    â€œThat’s because there’s no getting over a love like that.” Fleur cupped Kit’s face between lacquered fingers, and bent down until they were touching foreheads. “You just move on anyway.”
    â€œBut I can barely lift my head.” Kit’s voice cracked, and Grif’s heart went with it. “I know it makes me needy and really stupid to hold on to a man who doesn’t want me, but I can’t stop thinking of him. I close my eyes and he’s there. I wake and it’s worse. There’s no name for this . . . for this heartache.”
    â€œSure there is,” Fleur answered, her smile bittersweet as they both fell still. “It’s called life.”
    Kit didn’t answer, making Grif wonder if that meant that she agreed or she didn’t. Finally, Fleur shifted. “Come on, we can’t hole up here forever. Let’s get dolled up and go out. We’ll call up some greasers with a hot rod. Go drink rum from a tiki mug. We’ll raise some hell and get tattoos.”
    â€œA tattoo?” Kit sniffled, then tilted her head. “Yeah. Maybe.”
    â€œSomething to mark the occasion,” Fleur declared. “Kit Craig’s return to the real world!”
    Grif could have kissed the woman for that.
    But Kit shook her head. “No. Not that. But something to mark that I’m different. That I’ve changed not in spite of Griffin Shaw, but because he was here.”
    â€œOh, come on, Kit. You can do better than that.”
    Suddenly Grif no longer wanted to kiss her.
    â€œGet some ink as a badge of honor. You survived Griffin Shaw and now you’re ready to start a new life. One without him in it.”
    Was she? Staring at Kit, not blinking, Grif realized he was holding his breath.
    â€œMaybe,” Kit said, biting her bottom lip. Then, after a long moment, she frowned. “But only under one condition.”
    â€œWhat?”
    Kit pushed into a sitting position and leveled her friend with a hard stare. “I don’t want anything with damned wings.”
    Y our knowledge does nothing for me,” Grif told Frank now, his whisper harsh enough to scratch his throat. Suddenly he didn’t feel sorry for the Pure. He damned well should feel it all.
    â€œI know,” Frank whispered, and his eyes were shining with tears, too. It was novel, and it was shocking. It was as unnatural to see a Pure feeling human emotion as it would be to hear a dog meow.
    And all Grif could think was, Good.
    â€œThen what do you want?” Because it wasn’t just to reminisce about old times.
    â€œI have a message from the Host.”
    Grif closed his eyes. The entire legion of angels. Every order in the