Page 68 of Mystique of the Fallen
“After we clear the scene, I’ll call Killian and ask him to get some druids here to mend the trees that they can,” Grymington said. “In the meantime, let’s join the rest of my team and try to locate any scraps of metal that can help us put together an identification number for the car or a maybe parts of the license plate. If we can trace the car, it would be great.”
“Okay, I’m going north because I don’t want to be downwind of Alaric,” Grant replied.
Alaric glared and stalked off without a word.
Orpheus cackled. “He is going to make you pay for that.”
“I know. I’m looking forward to it,” Grant responded. “It’ll be interesting to see how he exacts revenge.”
“The scary thing is he could do it today or wait a thousand years,” Grymington noted. “Sentinels are savage.”
“Honestly, I love that about them,” Grant replied. “Alaric’s great and surprisingly fun to tease. I hope we find something to help with your investigation. Unless you want more bodies here, I wasn’t planning on waking the RKs or the other VKs.”
“My team can handle it,” Grymington assured him. “But we are grateful for your assistance.”
Taking care to steer clear of the annoyed Lich Sentinel, Grant followed Grymington’s orders about how best to search through the scattered debris that had somehow once been an entire vehicle. It would likely prove to be a long morning.
∞∞∞
Several afternoons later, Grant sailed into a conference room and grinned. He recognized everyone who’d already arrived, but there was no question where he’d sit.
Grant dropped his ass into a chair and turned to the man on his right. “Hey, Alaric.”
The Lich Sentinel’s mouth tightened. “There are several other available chairs. Must you sit there?”
Although Alaric hadn’t demurred from sparring with Grant when he’d poked his head into a gym at the Daray Sentinel Complex the previous night, the Lich Sentinel had not yet exacted his revenge for Grant’s early morning teasing at the vehicle explosion. Unfortunately, those moments were the last with levity. They’d picked up every speck of metal they could but had found nothing obvious to determine the owner of the vehicle.
Since Grant wasn’t on the task force assigned to the terrorist group, he didn’t know if they’d learned anything new, but he hoped they would be successful.
Ignoring Alaric, Grant leaned forward and smiled at the leader of the necromancers. “Hi, Chander.”
Chander’s lips twitched at the displeasure on Alaric’s face. “How are you, Grant?”
“Good. I’m glad I recognize everyone in here.”
“Yeah, Elf deciding to oversee the committee means we won’t have to deal with troublemakers,” Chander replied.
A tall elf with skin the color of a night sky walked in. “Is that the leader of the Indrenakas tribe?”
Chander nodded. “Chieftain Temolvi Indrenakas. We’ll make sure you get introduced. He’s a D’Vaire connection but doesn’t attend everything.”
“If you were going to pretend I’m not here, you could have taken the seat on the other side of Chand,” Alaric remarked coolly.
“Timotheus is sitting there,” Grant scoffed, referring to the ruler of the centaurs.
A woman dressed in black—relieved only by the feather in shades of pink strapped to her arm—stalked into the room, and her dark eyes narrowed. She took the chair next to Grant and scowled.
“I am here under duress,” Agrotera Tyvalis Athanasiou of the Harpy Clan declared.
“We appreciate your cooperation,” Ellery remarked diplomatically. “Alaric thought you would be an excellent addition to our team.”
“That is because he is still in a foul mood because he showed up at a crime scene the other morning with a foul odor emanating from his body,” Tyvalis drawled. “He is angry at the world and decided I should be punished along with everyone else. I know nothing about parades or committees, and I could be finding lost people instead of sitting in this room.”
“I imagine it’s more important to get to a crime scene than worry about if you’ve showered,” remarked Watchman-mate Jordan Hawthorneonca-Stone, the co-ruler of the Royal Order of the Gargoyle. His tone was neutral, but his deep brown gaze danced with laughter.
“I did not stink,” Alaric grumbled. “And I did shower.”
“I think you always smell delicious, handsome,” Chander said with a smirk.
