Chapter 19 #2
I know where Grimm will be.
We move toward the back of the taproom that has double doors and a large courtyard where a massive throne made of bones has the very man I’m looking for.
In front of him is two men sparring with nunchucks that have wooden scythes on the end, both shirtless and tattooed with skulls on their back. That chained weapon with scythes, when replaced with real steel, is as brutal as it is theatrical, which is the entire energy of the Reapers.
Grimm sits with one leg crossed over the other, elbow grounded on an armrest made of someone's spine, chin propped on his gloved fist as he watches the sparring below with the casual disinterest of a man who's seen every way a body can break and found none of them particularly impressive.
He’s wearing his signature wide-brimmed hat.
Those pale eyes that match mine, save for three white scars cutting through the left one, connect with me as he raises his head from his slouch, interest flooding his expression. “Gem, you win. Take a break, both of you. We have a guest,” he says, flicking his wrist as the two fighters stop.
They both argue among themselves about who the actual victor is as they clear the courtyard, chests heaving that are covered in welts from where they’ve been hit.
“Yeah, he’s definitely related to her,” Diana says.
“Subtly is not in their genetics.”
She snorts—a small, surprised sound that makes something warm bloom in my chest. Even exhausted, even injured, even carrying whatever weight Grimm's words will add to her shoulders, she can still laugh at my bullshit, and doesn’t cower. She’s never cowered, has she?
I'm going to protect that.
Whatever it costs.
Grimm stands from his throne, this isn’t even his real one, his coat billowing slightly in the wind. That leather thing looks like it wandered out of a history book and decided to stay in this era. He looks over like he’s happy to have something interesting happen.
"You look like shit," he comments, his voice smooth.
"Charming as always, Grimm.”
"Charm is for people who need something from you." He descends the steps slowly, each footfall deliberate, like he's counting the seconds until someone dies and doesn't want to rush the arithmetic. "I already know what you need. The question is whether I find it entertaining enough to provide."
He stops a few feet from us, and I feel Diana stiffen against my side.
I don't blame her. Up close, Grimm is unsettling. He’s got an elegance that fits the macabre fascination of his cousin, mixed with the rugged terrain of the world that’s shaped us, all intertwined with the kind of patience that comes from knowing you'll outlast everything that annoys you.
"This is her, then." He doesn't look at Diana directly, not at first, but when his eyes move to her, I stiffen with violence that doesn’t reach my face. "The one who made the great Judge chase her across the wastes like a lovesick pup." He tips his hat. “My name is Grimm.”
Diana scoots closer to me, if such a thing were possible.
"I prefer 'determined pursuit’,” I reply.
"I'm sure you do." His lips curve into an unsettling smile. "And what does she prefer? Does she speak, or did you bite that out of her?”
Diana's spine goes rigid. "I speak just fine."
"Mm." The sound is approving, and I’m ready to get this fucking examination over with. He tilts his head, studying her face with an intensity that makes me want to step between them. "You've been to see my cousin recently."
“Yes, I did.”
"And how did you find her hospitality?"
“Ultimately useless for what I needed."
Grimm laughs with a low, dry sound. "Yes, that sounds like Witchy. She does so love her riddles and refusals.” He waves a gloved hand dismissively.
"She's unbearable at family gatherings. We don’t do them much anymore.” That same hand motions to The Last Toll.
"Come. Sit. You look like you've been dragged behind a horse for several miles, and your omega looks like she's considering whether stabbing me would be worth the consequences. We’re still having things prepared for you, including proper healing salves that will compare with whatever my cousin offered.”
“It’s appreciated. And Rust will be here soon,” I comment. “He’s bringing Gnash.”
Grimm’s eyes widen with interest, his black brows furrowing intently. “Oh, I love warrogs. I need to find me an echo like him so I can have them tamed here.” He’s as tall as me, staring me right in the eyes. “Let’s go, alpha.”
I roll my eyes, nodding to Diana.
Once inside, we settle into a quieter corner, Grimm taking off his hat to reveal dark, black hair pulled back, a few strands in his face. He gestures for us to sit, then steeples his fingers beneath his chin and watches us with those pale, patient eyes.
I can feel Diana’s exhaustion through the bond, although her curiosity keeps her well awake. The way omegas exist here is no doubt capturing her attention.
"So," he says. "You've come to rest before you do something stupid. That particular stench of impending self-sacrifice." I glare at him, as if he might somehow fucking know about the Scarlett Offering. “What are your plans while here? It would be ideal to chat in private.”
“Once she’s settled.”
He smiles, just softly. “Understandable.” Grimm’s gaze drops to Diana's bag on her shoulders, the one I put her black rose inside. The amusement drains from his face. "Ah," he says. “So she gave you one of her precious flowers.”
Diana exhales like she’s tired of all of this. “She said not to lose it. And Judge told me that that it helps with healing hearts… not very useful. But, I don’t know what else to do with it.”
“Well, you keep it for when she clearly thought you might be able to use it… anyway, how about we get you some fresh food here while I tend to a few things, and I’ll show you to the room that’ll suit you best.” His head turns to me. “Then we can talk.”
“And then I can fucking sleep.”
He flashes a smile, his canines capped with silver. “Yes, you need it.”