Page 54 of Mystique of the Fallen
Grant pulled the door of his SUV shut and started the engine. Instead of backing out of the parking space in his apartment’s lot, Grant fiddled with the radio volume and listened intently to the fallen knights’ dispatch. Each morning, he rose at least an hour early so he could squeeze in time to aid the Council and his race in keeping the streets of Las Vegas safe.
It wasn’t necessary. He was a Venerable Knight. It was his job to sign off on cases sent to him by Juris Knights who had sentenced people captured by other officers. But Grant was the new guy. Untested. Untried. He wanted to assure everyone he was worthy of his title.
Unfortunately, his people were too fucking good at their jobs. Crimes were barely called out over the dispatch before someone nearby cruised in to save the day. Grant wanted one of those hero moments. Just one to boost his confidence and to give him a feel for what the fallen knights he oversaw endured daily.
Since Grant hadn’t eaten anything, he put the SUV in reverse and headed to a local donut shop for treats and coffee. He needed to get over his desire to jump in and vanquish a criminal. It was silly. Intellectually, Grant understood that. Yet here he was ready to fill his belly with glazed goodness while he hoped for the impossible.
Grateful for the drive-thru, he ordered a dozen donuts and the biggest coffee on the menu. Grant set his drink in the cupholder and drove to headquarters. Once there, he pulled into the garage. After putting the car in park, he turned off the engine but kept the radio on. Feeling foolish for his behavior, Grant unsecured his seatbelt and opened the pink pastry box.
He unfolded a napkin and laid it on his black uniform pants, then dug in. Calories were irrelevant, so Grant filled his tummy and admonished himself for being a fool. Tomorrow, he’d force himself to stay in his apartment until it was time to go to work. He’d teleport home and leave his SUV at work. It wasn’t the first morning he’d settled on that plan, but he needed to stick with it.
With a shake of his head, Grant chugged his coffee and thanked Fate his job was starting in a vastly different way than Samson’s had. Samson hadn’t gone looking for trouble, but it’d found him. According to the case report Grant had read through, Samson had entered the garage with nearly every Daray to show off his SUV with its distinctive shield insignia on the doors, advertising the driver as a Venerable Knight.
The Darays hadn’t made it to the vehicle. Two explosions had rocked through the garage, and tragedy had forever altered the Darays. One of their own—the initial reaper who wasn’t brought to life with the same impenetrable skin as every other undead soldier walking around—had died. In total, forty-seven people had lost their lives that morning thanks to a terrorist group.
The details on the organization remained scant even though a task force was still investigating them. To learn everything he could, Grant had scheduled a meeting with the leader of the task force, Lich Reaper Grymington Daray.
Grant polished off the last donut and glanced at his watch. If he wanted to be on time for that meeting, he needed to get over his hero complex and get upstairs.
Grant grabbed his half-full cup and the empty box. Hopping out of the car, he stalked to a trash can and dumped everything but his coffee into it. He marched inside and hit the button for the elevator. As he waited for it to arrive, Grant used his free hand to tug his phone out of his pocket and connected with the man he was quickly growing to adore.
“VK Calixtus.”
“Good morning, honeybunch.”
“Did you remember to save me a donut?”
Grant grimaced. “Whoops.”
“No kisses for you this morning.”
“You’re a terrible person.”
“Says the man who consumed a dozen donuts without once thinking of his starving mate.”
The elevator dinged, and Grant stepped inside. He hit the button for the right floor. “You ate a full breakfast catered by the fancy kitchen in your apartment building. Mine doesn’t have that service, so I had to venture out to hunt for my own food.”
“I’d say it was more of a gathering mission than an actual hunt.”
“Tell me, sweetie, did you have bacon this morning?”
“What’s with the weird names?”
Grant chuckled. The doors of the elevator glided open, and he exited. “I found a list online of terms of endearment. I’m trying them on for size to see if any of them stick.”
“Okay?”
“You don’t sound very enthused.”
“My feelings are neutral on the subject.”
“I’ll keep trying. Anyway. Answer my question, lovebug.”
“Yes, I had bacon. You could’ve had some too.”
“I didn’t get an invitation to sleep over and have breakfast with you this morning.”
“If you think you’re the only one disappointed they slept alone, think again. I already miss this past weekend.”
