Page 67 of Mystique of the Fallen
Grant’s brows flew up, and his scattered wits finally flipped to alert. “The terrorist group struck again?”
Next to Grant, Roman shifted and flipped the light on, making Grant wince.
“You can discuss it with Grymmie when you arrive. I have things to do which do not include chatting with sleepy fallen knights.”
“Do I need to alert the RKs?”
“That will be your call to make upon your arrival. I assume you are coming at some point this morning.”
“Just send me a picture, Alaric,” Grant said, the snarky sentinel pulling a smile out of him. Grant had barely disconnected the call when a photo arrived.
Tugging the blankets off, Grant kissed Roman and climbed over him.
“The terrorist group?” Roman asked.
“Apparently,” Grant said, tugging off his T-shirt. “I’ll know more after I get there. Grymmie’s in charge.”
“His entire task force is probably there too. Grant, the RKs and all the VKs are usually pulled in on these.”
Grant grabbed fresh underwear from the dresser and faced his mate. “Are you coming with me, then?”
“No. It’s…” Roman trailed off and glanced at the alarm clock. “It’s three in the morning. You can determine whether everyone needs to get up and start their day early or we can visit the site later.”
“Thank you, I’ll assess the situation and decide what to do from there. Go back to sleep if you can. I’ll wait to call until your alarm goes off unless it’s necessary for you to be there.”
Roman smiled. “Think of me as you shower.”
“I don’t have time to jerk off, so that’s not happening,” Grant said. He stalked into the bathroom as the bedroom went dark again.
Shutting the door behind him, Grant hit the light switch and turned on the shower. He wiggled out of his boxers and tossed them into the hamper. In swift, economical movements, he bathed. He was in such a hurry, he barely noted that the temperature of the water wasn’t warm until he was rinsing the shampoo out of his hair.
Once clean, Grant dried himself and pulled on his underwear. Roman had added a small closet for a few uniforms for mornings like this, so Grant grabbed clothes and yanked them on. His spare boots went on next, and he thanked Roman silently for his foresight in putting his work belt in there for him last night.
Grant grabbed his phone and opened the picture Alaric had sent. A second later, he was standing in a nearly desolate forest in the middle of nowhere. It was flooded with magical light provided by the mages examining the scorched trees. There was a group of frowning fallen knights picking their way through the wreckage of what Grant quickly discovered had been a vehicle of some kind.
They had sentinels working alongside them, but as was their habit, their expressions gave away nothing. Three reapers stood shoulder to shoulder, with their dogs sniffing the ground at their feet, deep in discussion with the Lich Sentinel.
“Good morning,” Grant called out as he marched up to the group.
“You took your time arriving,” Alaric noted.
“Some of us like to bathe before we go out in public, Alaric,” Grant replied.
To Grant’s delight, Alaric’s mouth went ever so slack for a moment. “I certainly bathed.”
Scythe Lord Orpheus Daray snickered.
“It’s fine,” Grymington said. “The scene is full of scents thanks to the explosion. If anyone skipped their usual grooming habits to arrive on scene quickly, no one would be the wiser. Grant, we arrived after receiving a call about a fire. One of the ignis mages recognized a trace of a wizard potion. She’s familiar with the terrorist group; she has aided us on previous occasions.”
“She called the Magus Superus, and Lochlan woke up the Lich Sentinel,” Scythe Lord Masse Daray added. He glanced up at Alaric. “Maybe Lochlan should’ve shown up so he could provide some water to those who need it for their morning ablutions.”
Alaric’s mouth tightened. “I already told you I showered.”
“Nope, you said you bathed. I thought sentinels couldn’t lie,” Grant teased. “I’m not lifting any memories from this other than an explosion, which is obvious. Have you had a chance to figure out anything else that happened here? Was this an accident or on purpose? I sense no living presence.”
“No one was here,” Grymington said. “At some point, someone had to drive the car here. Alaric, what do you sense?”
“Besides my annoyance at being accused of lying and skipping my shower?” Alaric asked tersely. “Nothing. Like Grant and everyone else, I sense no memory beyond a car arriving at some point. I cannot even determine if there was more than one person in the vehicle. It is odd. Was this detonated from a distance? Accident or on purpose? I do not know. But there were no injuries or death. That is the most important factor.”
