can’t make any promises,” I said as we stepped onto the elevator.
Nate pulled me in closer to him so that we were facing each other and looked down at me, his black eyes smoldering with a dark fire I’d never noticed there before. “You have a dangerous job, Red,” he reminded me softly. “You need all the allies you can get.”
The air in the elevator grew thicker, harder to inhale, and was charged with an electricity that I felt down to my bones. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe and I had to gasp a little. “Yeah? Like you?”
“Tess,” he rasped so softly that the sound of his voice made me shiver. “I—”
An annoyingly high-pitched chirp cut him off, startling us both and sending me to the other side of the elevator with an embarrassed flush on my cheeks. I ran my hands through my hair a couple of times, wondering what the hell had just happened, when Nate’s cell phone went off again.
He snatched it out of his jacket pocket and barked, “Grimm”. His eyes flicked my way in response to whatever he heard on the phone, then glanced away just as rapidly, avoiding direct eye contact with me. “Yeah, I’ll tell her.”
A moment later, he pocketed his phone again. “Looks like lunch is going to have to wait.”
The elevator came to an abrupt halt, and I immediately stepped out, eager to get away from the too-close space. “Yeah, why’s that?” I called over my shoulder.
“There’s been another attack. About half an hour ago.”
This brought me up short. “What? Why didn’t you know about it?”
“The victim didn’t die,” Nate said, his tone oddly gentle.
This news made my eyes widen. “Really? He left a witness? Then let’s get going!”
I started toward his car in a rush, but Nate cut me off with his swoosh move. “Red—”
I let out a little yelp of surprise. “Damn it! I hate it when you do that!”
Then I noticed the pained, sorrowful look on his face. Something was wrong. Way wrong. When he took me by the shoulders and brought me closer, I wanted to forbid him to say whatever horrible news he was trying to tell me, but I swallowed hard instead and croaked, “Who is it?”
“It’s Gran.”
Chapter 9
I read. A lot. I read everything from ancient mythologies to modern literature. In my line of work, I never quite know who I’m going to bump into and need to be prepared. Over the years, I’ve come across a lot of stories, especially in the Victorian novels, in which the heroine is always gasping and swooning from shock. I never in a million years thought I’d ever be able to identify with such schmaltzy melodrama.
But the moment Nate told me Gran had been attacked by some unknown creature, my world pitched into a disorienting spiral. I didn’t swoon per se, but the news sure as hell knocked the breath from my lungs and the bones from my legs.
I remember gasping something like “Oh, my God” and stumbling a little when my legs went to jelly on me. But the rest is a blur.
Sometime later, a nurse in pink scrubs ushered me into an Ordinary hospital room where Gran lay against a fluffy white pillow, her silver hair a tangled mess. A bandage had been taped to her forehead and her left arm was in a cast. Numerous bruises and scratches were visible where her skin wasn’t already stitched and dressed, and I had a feeling there were other injuries I couldn’t see beneath the coarse cotton blanket.
Nate gave me a comforting squeeze on my shoulder, then backed out of the room, giving us some privacy. But I had a feeling if I needed him, he wouldn’t be far away.
Sensing my presence, Gran opened her eyes and offered me a weak smile. “Red, my darling.” Her voice was rough and brittle, making her seem very old. I had never thought of her that way, even though she’d been written as an elderly woman. She was always just Gran—a perpetual parcel of perkiness that exuded the sort of kindness and energy that was completely infectious. I couldn’t imagine who would
Nate pulled me in closer to him so that we were facing each other and looked down at me, his black eyes smoldering with a dark fire I’d never noticed there before. “You have a dangerous job, Red,” he reminded me softly. “You need all the allies you can get.”
The air in the elevator grew thicker, harder to inhale, and was charged with an electricity that I felt down to my bones. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe and I had to gasp a little. “Yeah? Like you?”
“Tess,” he rasped so softly that the sound of his voice made me shiver. “I—”
An annoyingly high-pitched chirp cut him off, startling us both and sending me to the other side of the elevator with an embarrassed flush on my cheeks. I ran my hands through my hair a couple of times, wondering what the hell had just happened, when Nate’s cell phone went off again.
He snatched it out of his jacket pocket and barked, “Grimm”. His eyes flicked my way in response to whatever he heard on the phone, then glanced away just as rapidly, avoiding direct eye contact with me. “Yeah, I’ll tell her.”
A moment later, he pocketed his phone again. “Looks like lunch is going to have to wait.”
The elevator came to an abrupt halt, and I immediately stepped out, eager to get away from the too-close space. “Yeah, why’s that?” I called over my shoulder.
“There’s been another attack. About half an hour ago.”
This brought me up short. “What? Why didn’t you know about it?”
“The victim didn’t die,” Nate said, his tone oddly gentle.
This news made my eyes widen. “Really? He left a witness? Then let’s get going!”
I started toward his car in a rush, but Nate cut me off with his swoosh move. “Red—”
I let out a little yelp of surprise. “Damn it! I hate it when you do that!”
Then I noticed the pained, sorrowful look on his face. Something was wrong. Way wrong. When he took me by the shoulders and brought me closer, I wanted to forbid him to say whatever horrible news he was trying to tell me, but I swallowed hard instead and croaked, “Who is it?”
“It’s Gran.”
Chapter 9
I read. A lot. I read everything from ancient mythologies to modern literature. In my line of work, I never quite know who I’m going to bump into and need to be prepared. Over the years, I’ve come across a lot of stories, especially in the Victorian novels, in which the heroine is always gasping and swooning from shock. I never in a million years thought I’d ever be able to identify with such schmaltzy melodrama.
But the moment Nate told me Gran had been attacked by some unknown creature, my world pitched into a disorienting spiral. I didn’t swoon per se, but the news sure as hell knocked the breath from my lungs and the bones from my legs.
I remember gasping something like “Oh, my God” and stumbling a little when my legs went to jelly on me. But the rest is a blur.
Sometime later, a nurse in pink scrubs ushered me into an Ordinary hospital room where Gran lay against a fluffy white pillow, her silver hair a tangled mess. A bandage had been taped to her forehead and her left arm was in a cast. Numerous bruises and scratches were visible where her skin wasn’t already stitched and dressed, and I had a feeling there were other injuries I couldn’t see beneath the coarse cotton blanket.
Nate gave me a comforting squeeze on my shoulder, then backed out of the room, giving us some privacy. But I had a feeling if I needed him, he wouldn’t be far away.
Sensing my presence, Gran opened her eyes and offered me a weak smile. “Red, my darling.” Her voice was rough and brittle, making her seem very old. I had never thought of her that way, even though she’d been written as an elderly woman. She was always just Gran—a perpetual parcel of perkiness that exuded the sort of kindness and energy that was completely infectious. I couldn’t imagine who would
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