Page 16 of Looking Grimm

This wasn’t what I’d come to discuss, and I’d already grown tired of it. Holland wasn’t enjoying it, either, judging by the grit in her voice when she replied, “Iwantthis to be successful. Preferably legal.”

I rolled my eyes. “We all have our preferences, don’t we?”

Holland pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and rubbed her hands over her face. She squinted at me. “Fitch, I know you and I haven’t always gotten along—”

“You got my brother killed, Holland.” The statement rolled out of me like a wave. “This isn’t just a personality clash. I’ve killed people for less than what you’ve done.”

She reeled back as though she’d been struck. “Donovan’s death wasn’t anyone’s fault. Things happen—”

“He was there because you required it.” I stabbed afinger at her, and she flinched. “You put a helpless kid in the room with a bunch of killers. What did you think would happen?”

The bloodlust I’d felt seeing Charlie’s tattoo resurfaced. Everything in me was pushing to stand, to lunge at her, to give a reason for her fear. While rage boiled in my gut, Holland seemed to slump in her seat.

“Not that,” she murmured.

The bell above the café door jingled, and a few customers filed in. I ducked my head, not wanting a repeat performance of the last time I was here and cleared the place. Even the employees had cowered in the kitchen then. Now, they barely glanced my way. I really wasn’t myself these days.

“Briggs also wanted me to give you this.” She reached under the table to retrieve a small black duffel bag. It dropped on the table with a muffled clunk. “I don’t know what’s inside and I don’t want to.”

I eyed the duffel, recalling the list I’d sent to Briggs. He worked fast.

“You really didn’t look?” I asked Holland.

She shook her head.

“Weird flex, but sure. Keep your secrets and give me mine.” I dragged the bag across the table into my lap. Tugging the zipper aside, I tipped it toward the sunlight pouring in through the window and peered inside. Two antimagic collars with corresponding remotes, two pairs of handcuffs, and a pistol.

Across from me, Holland tilted her head as though trying to get a glimpse of what had me grinning, but I closed the bag before she was too tempted to snoop.

I tucked the duffel under my chair and folded my arms.

“Why did you call me and not him?” Holland asked. “Briggs, I mean. And why did you call at all?” she continued without giving me time to reply. “You were doing a fine job of avoiding me till now.”

“Doing my civic duty.” I puffed my chest out with mock pride. “See something, say something, am I right?”

The investigator’s fatigued expression persisted. “Better get on with it, then.”

Leaning forward, I closed the gap between us and lowered my tone to a whisper. “The Bloody Hex is growing its numbers. Exponentially. They have more members than you have investigators. They’re planning something big.”

She glanced aside, considering. “What kind of numbers are we talking about?”

“Forty and counting.” I flashed my tattoo. “They’re handing out Hex marks, too. A death curse so simple even a human could use it.” The thought of Donovan’s final act—a failed effort to save his own life—made my face pinch with fleeting pain.

“How did you hear about this?” Holland asked. “Is it a credible source?”

My eyes narrowed as they angled toward her. “Is it, or amI?”

The investigator blew a breath through her nose. “Don’t put on some self-righteous act. You’ve established yourself as nothing if not a skillful liar.”

“It’s credible,” I replied.

She stared wordlessly into her coffee mug. The silence made me itch, or maybe it was her not-so-subtle scrutiny. Either way, I wasn’t inclined to sit through it for long.

I dragged the duffel bag from under my chair and tuckedit under my arm as I stood. “Take it or leave it,” I told Holland, who frowned in response. “But if investigators start dropping like flies, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I woke the nextday to the sound of raised voices in the hall outside Nash’s room. Pippa was making her dramatic exit and ensuring the whole house knew about it. She spouted more of the same scorn and insults I’d heard the day before, and it was enough to make me wad my pillow around my ears and squeeze my eyes shut.

I stayed in bed an hour after I was certain she was gone. I might have remained there all day if Nash hadn’t cleared out my alcohol stash. So, a little after noon, I dragged myself out and padded on bare feet downstairs to the bar.

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