His jaw worked, as though he fought to hold back an answer neither of us was going to like. This is the problem with human men. They can get a little caveman at times. All me protect pretty little woman even when they had absolutely no fucking chance. Got to give them points for trying, though.
The wind whistled around us, whipping my hair around my face as if trying to tell me to get a move on. Finally, Troy nodded.
“I don’t like it.”
Ha! He didn’t like it. How the hell did he think I felt? I was the one who had to go in there and face the damn thing.
“You don’t have to like it, handsome.” I reached up to stroke gentle fingers over his cheek. His stubble rasped against my fingertips, and memories tried to crowd in. I fought them back and put them on lockdown. Couldn’t do that now. I needed my A-game. “You just have to let me do my job, and then you can do yours. Okay?”
Not giving him time to answer, I turned and pushed my way through the gate with a hip. With each step closer to the house, I felt the weight of the Grimm settle over and around me. Protecting me. Most times I didn’t need to pull on it so heavily, but with what waited for me inside, I wanted every advantage I had.
I reached the side of the house and paused for a moment, working out whether the thing was in the front or the back of the house. I didn’t do drama, or property damage, unless there’s a point to it. Nor did I want to lose the element of surprise, especially with so formidable a foe. So unless kicking in the front door would concuss the demon hiding behind it, I’d go around the back. Or find a key.
As if on cue, the pink lifeline in the corner of my vision started to pulse in a line leading around the back of the house. A lifeline ready to reap, and everything nonhuman about me itched to get in there and make it happen. But pink? Seriously? Not just pink but iridescent pink, all pretty and fairylike. It didn’t fool me. I’d been doing this job too long now. In my experience, the prettier the lifeline something had, the more dangerous it was.
Humans, for example, had silver lines. Dull compared to a demon line but pretty enough because, let’s be honest, humanity could be freaking horrible to both each other and species weaker than themselves.
Their lines were like a light-show compared to the dead, flat non-line of a reaper though. Ours are barely visible, if they show up at all. Some don’t. Mine doesn’t. Although we walked and talked, breathed and danced in the rain—all that crap—there was nothing there. No one came to reap us. What could? What happened to us after death? I didn’t know. None of us did. I mean, it’s not like we could have a near “us” experience. Could we?
In my world, sparkles didn’t mean fairy dust and happy endings. They meant trouble, blood, and death.
I slunk down the side of the house, all my bravado gone now that no one was watching me. The place was quiet, eerily quiet. If I was into that kind of humor, I’d say it was quiet as the grave. With three human souls in there to reap, it would be less humor and more accurate. I reached the kitchen door and risked a peek in. Cream trim, beige-speckled surfaces. Two mugs near the sink and a plate. I shook my head. Someone didn’t do their washing up.
The stones of the gravel pathway crunched softly underfoot but not loudly enough to alert anyone, or thing, within the house. I snapped my head around to see Troy and his boss sneaking up the side of the house.
Great, just great. Obviously neither could follow simple instructions. Perhaps a demon chewing on their faces would educate that shit right out of them.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed, trying to wave them back. “I told you no one goes in but me.”
They reached my side and the three of us hunkered under the window like peas in a pod. Troy grinned. “Well, technically no one’s gone in yet.”
“Cute.” No point in arguing. It was their funeral, not mine. Although...there were no new silver lines. I looked at them both, one and then the other, directly. “Fine. Stay behind me and don’t interfere. This is my world and I see and hear things you can’t.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Troy ruined his reply by winking, but Reilly looked at me. His eyes were pale but contained a darkness I was familiar with. This man had killed before. He had that dead look only Reapers and good soldiers get. The bad soldiers just get dead.
Curious, I reached for the Shade and took a look at his timeline. It was as flat and silver as any human’s I’d seen. Nothing supernatural about him at all... but there was an expectancy, a buzz, about it that I’d seen before. Somewhere, sometime soon, something was going to happen to this man to change the course of his life completely.
I just hoped it wasn’t the demon inside the house.
He’d never lacked for courage—and simply being a cop in the big city soon weeded out the cowards—but right now, faced with going into a house with an actual demon, Troy was glad he had backup. He could storm anything with Reilly at his back, but he wasn’t so happy about Laney being in front. His caveman instincts crowded to the forefront and he tried to step in front of her as she reached for the handle. To say the look he received would have frozen hell over would have been an understatement.
Hands up in surrender, he let her take point. Almost soundlessly, she pushed the handle down, and the door swung open with a slight creak. All three froze, waiting for something...anything...to come barreling out of the kitchen toward them.
Nothing happened.
There was no time to let go of a sigh of relief because before any of them could set foot over the threshold, a scream rent the air. In a heartbeat, they were through the door, weapons in hand. Laney raced ahead, the light glittering malevolently along the edges of her blades. Troy held in the shiver, gun up, checking his side of the room as Reilly checked the other.
They split up outside the kitchen and tore through the rooms on the ground floor like a whirlwind. Laney moved easily with them, never getting in their way or in the line of fire, despite the fact she was in front. She didn’t walk so much as fade in and out, that weird fogginess he’d noticed before clinging to her like a cloak.
They reached the entrance hall, looking at each other.
“All clear my side,” Reilly confirmed, a hand out to throw the latch on the front door. It was a habit. If they needed backup, or the emergency services, it would help if they weren’t slowed down. As if on cue, another scream shattered the silence.
“Upstairs.” Laney moved before the sound finished, taking the stairs two at a time. Fear clutched at Troy’s heart, and he couldn’t help his hand moving to grab her arm and stop her. She couldn’t face whatever was up there alone.
A hard hand on his arm stopped him. Reilly shook his head. “Don’t. She can handle it. Believe me, those suckers are tough.”
Troy’s jaw hit the deck. The look on Reilly’s face said it all.
“You know what she is. Don’t you?”
Reilly nodded, the muscles in the side of his jaw working. “Yeah, she’s a Reaper. Saw one take out a whole pack of werewolves in Afghanistan.”
Troy got the feeling there was more to that story, but they didn’t have time. Moving as one, they stormed up the stairs. They hit the second floor as Laney kicked in the door to one of the bedrooms. A bellow answered.
Right room first time.