Welcome to Tales from the GrimVerse: Grim & Bare It – Killion’s POV, an urban fantasy novel I’m republishing with scenes from the original story but told from the Master Vampire’s point of view.
***
Diversion Won’t Work…Or Will It?
When Chloe’s shift ended at seven the following morning, I was waiting for her.
As she left the hospital grounds at a brisk pace, I leaned against the low stone fence of a Victorian house down the street from the police station, startled at the thought I was happy—eager—to see her again. The bounce in her step suggested she’d enjoyed a productive night in the morgue and that bode well for today. The rising sun shone off the damp road but stopped before breaching the sidewalk where I waited.
Ghost barked a greeting, hanging out of her bag. The tightness inside me dissipated, and I smiled. Barely, but it was good to see them both unharmed and full of energy.
Chloe pulled up short. Down girl. Her thoughts pushed into mine, as did the scent of her pheromones. She was attracted to me. It sent my magic spiking as she reeled over her body’s reaction, just like mine did to her. I might be hard up for male attention—and sure, he’s drop-dead handsome in that dark, mysterious, supernatural way—but he’s also a touch scary and a whole lot annoying.
Forcing herself forward, she and the dog joined me in the shadows. “You don’t have to walk me home,” she stated.
I boosted off the stones. “Did you read the manual?”
We began walking, a few damp leaves clinging to the sidewalk. “Yeah, about that. The dog ate it.”
I hid my smile and flicked a glance at her, pretending to be irritated and issuing a strained sigh.
The bag jiggled against her hip from Ghost’s feverishly wagging tail. The dog desperately wanted me to pet her. “You really brought me back to life in that alley, didn’t you?”
Another flick of my gaze to assess her. Had Death spoken to her, told her I had committed a terrible error of judgment? I hadn’t heard from him yet but an email from SMG had reprimanded me harshly. The continuing silence filled the air between us; I waited to see if she volunteered any insight.
Only her questions pushed into my mind. “In all seriousness, what if I screw up?”
“I’m here to make sure you don’t.”
My confidence seemed to reassure her. “You’re going to haunt my every waking hour to guarantee that?”
I kept my face and tone neutral. I shouldn’t be one bit happy about any of this. I was. “If necessary.”
Those pheromones increased, and so did her tension. The thought both excited and frightened her. “Look, I save people and animals. That’s my thing. Death is…not.”
“How is it you save humans? You are not a medical doctor.”
“Coffee,” she replied, her voice laced with humor. “Nectar of the gods.”
I stopped, looked at her in question.
She stared back. “I work in a coffee shop. Trust me, I’ve saved a lot of lives by providing caffeine to folks who might go postal on their friends and family without it.”
Funny. I shook my head. A pigeon landed a few feet away, cooing and pecking at the strip of grass next to the sidewalk. We resumed our pace. “I believe you give the substance too much credit.”
She fought against bursting out with rude inquiries into what I was, but still asked in a passive-aggressive manner. “Do you even drink coffee?”
“On occasion. Not the cheap stuff you sell.”
An argument formed, but she bit her lip to quell it. Using my magic, I lifted the pigeon out of our way and deposited it farther down on the lawn. She sighed. “What are you?” she asked. “For real.”
She suspected she knew, but her human mind rejected the idea even with what she’d learned since the night of the attack. It was best if she accepted the truth on her own. “Did you resign from your job at the morgue?
“Diversion will not work this time.” She paused as if unsure if she wanted to push me on the subject. Her bravery won out. “Tell me the truth.”
“I will when the time is right.”
“Why not now?”
Stubborn. “We are only getting to know each other. Have I asked personal questions of you?”
“Mostly, you’ve ordered me around.” Her determination and happiness permeated everything. She’d had a near-death experience—they did that to people, made them feel more alive. More…brave. “I’m not going to like it, am I? The truth about you?”
“You need sleep.”
“Actually, like my adoring public, I need caffeine.” She veered left, waiting for a morning commuter in a red compact to pass before jaywalking across the street.
I moved with supernatural speed to catch up. “You must eliminate unnecessary trips for now.”
She blinked and glanced back at where I’d been. “How did you do that? Wait, I forgot. Magic.” She cut through a narrow alley between the dry cleaners and an Asian restaurant, both closed at the moment. The pungent odor of peanut oil and dry cleaning fluid assaulted my sensitive smell. Her own olfactory sense must have been sensitized as well, her eyes watering. “Are you avoiding the sun?”
Voicing more of her questions to narrow down what type of supernatural I might be. I remained stoic and ignored her.
“By the way,” she continued, undaunted, “I think Jaqueline might have been watching you Friday night. There was a woman in the shadows when I passed you at Boozy’s.”
Interesting that she’d noticed. “I did not sense her. It was most likely my second in command, Simone. She often stays close.”
I expected her to ask about Simone and the way I described her. She did not. “I’m not giving up everything for this reaper gig. A year from now, when my contract is up, I’ll still have a life to go back to and bills to pay.”
“A year and thirty days, if you survive the probationary period.” We were back to business, and that seemed a shame but was wise. “At that time, there will be plenty of minimum wage vacancies you can fill with your mundane skills.”
Her jaw clenched and she stepped out from the alley into the sunshine. The scent of ground coffee beans carried on the air. “You’re funny,” she said.
“I am not attempting humor. It is fact.”
Regardless of my candor and insult, her shoulders loosened, and she relaxed. “What do you like, if you don’t drink coffee? Healthy stuff, like smoothies?” She eyed my biceps and chest, sizing me up. “If it’s the caffeine you’re worried about, my friend, Nita, makes a really delicious chai drink that—”
Under the scent of coffee, I picked up another unwelcome odor. There were at least two, possibly three, moving in on us fast. I grabbed her shoulder, fingers sinking in deep, and stopping her from stepping off the curb. “Grim 281, you need to go home, ward the building, and stay there.”
The tension in my voice triggered something deep in her brain, sending a hot wash of primal fight-or-flight instinct racing down her spine. I felt it all through my physical connection to her, the realization both welcome and not.
“Why?” she glanced around. “What’s wrong?” And how do I ward a building?
“Your reaction to the harvest of Talon’s soul alerted certain entities to your new profession. They know you killed Gustafson and aren’t happy.”
“The rogues?” Ice filled her voice. “Aren’t happy, as in they’re going to post rude comments about me on social media?”
Before I could reply, three men dressed in black from head to toe emerged from a copse of trees.
Kill, the scythe rang in her head. Her grim tattoo fired up, making her gasp and burning my fingers where I gripped her.
Matching grins on their half-masked faces, the trio flashed their scythes. Then, moving as one, they descended on us.
***
Next up, Episode 9 – Chloe Becomes A Ninja