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Authors: Kate Serine

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy

BOOK: Red
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Chapter 13
 
I followed the network of tunnels beneath Chicago that connected FMA headquarters to the other key Tale buildings. It took only half an hour of walking to finally arrive at the hospital where they had taken Gran earlier that day, but it seemed like a hell of a lot longer that night. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else was in the tunnels with me, lurking in the shadows just beyond my sight. Yet every time I stopped to listen or turned around suddenly to face my pursuer, the tunnel was empty. By the time I finally arrived at the entrance to the hospital, I’d never been so happy to see the place.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the heavy steel door before me was just your average utility access panel or other random portal you’d find anywhere along the city’s underbelly. But beyond this particular doorway you’d be shocked to find a bustling center for health and wellness equipped to treat any kind of Tale ailment that might come along—transparency and fading being chief among them. Of course, because we were also susceptible to the same kinds of injuries as our fact-based peers, the physicians were also well-educated in Ordinary medicine, which came in handy for keeping our kind safely hidden away among the hustle and bustle of the big city.
Because we healed a hell of a lot quicker than the Ordinaries did, ending up in the care of Ordinaries like Gran had could be problematic and had to be dealt with swiftly and discreetly. We’d had more than one close call over the years, with some of our brethren making miraculous recoveries and ending up as front-page news.
If accounts of the mysterious ended up in the tabloids like the Jabberwocky incident had, it was much easier to keep a lid on things. But if the story leaked to the Associated Press, the folks in Damage Control at the FMA went into full panic mode. Fortunately, those instances were growing less frequent, thanks in large part to the Internet. Once it would have taken a whole team of PR strategists to handle the situation, but since the emergence of the information superhighway, all it took now to discredit even the most well-documented case was a viral e-mail and a little misdirection, and the story was suddenly branded an urban legend. (If only it were that easy to get rid of the penis enhancement spam . . . Now
there
was a fairytale.)
When I entered the hospital, I flagged down a nurse who directed me to the room where they’d taken Gran after the Chief had ordered her transfer. After a few twists and turns and a trip through the cafeteria, I finally found Gran’s room. She was sitting up in bed watching reruns of
One Tree Hill
.
“Ah, Red, my darling,” she sighed wistfully as I came in. “I’ve been watching the most fascinating program. These teenagers are quite dramatic.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Everything’s a drama when you’re a teenager, Gran.”
She nodded sagely, folding her hands in her lap. “Yes, I guess I had forgotten. Of course, things were so different during my time. I would never have slept around like these young people do.”
I couldn’t help but flush a little, wondering what she thought of
my
extracurricular activities. Time to change the subject. “I brought you some dinner,” I told her, holding up the bag I carried.
Her eyes lit up. “Lovely! I’m famished!” She nodded toward a discarded tray sitting on the side table. “The food here leaves a great deal to be desired.”
I rolled a wheeled tray to her, then pulled out a grilled chicken sandwich, a teacup-sized container of pasta salad, and a perfectly square brownie. “Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s from the cafeteria—which I’m guessing is maybe a half step up from what they already tried to foist onto you.” I chuckled when she eyed the food with mild horror. “It’s all I had time to pick up. Next time you’re attacked by some nefarious monster, I’ll be sure to call ahead for takeout.”
Gran offered me a genuine smile of gratitude and motioned me forward to receive her kiss on the cheek. “I appreciate the effort, my dear. You are always so thoughtful.”
As she dutifully ate her subpar repast, I pulled a chair over to her bedside and took a seat. It was then that I noticed the numerous bouquets of flowers that filled the room. “Where did all these come from?”
Gran’s eyes widened with excitement. “The wonderful roses are from the Panellas,” she said, motioning toward a huge arrangement to her left. “Then that one is from my producer, and that one is from my assistant, and that one is from Detective Grimm—”
“Nate?” I said, my brow furrowing. “He sent you flowers?”
Gran blinked at me. “This troubles you?”
I shrugged. “I was just wondering why he’d do that.”
“Well, I imagine it was to be polite,” Gran said, her tone bemused. “Should he not have sent them?”
“It just surprises me,” I told her.
“Thoughtfulness surprises you?” Gran asked, smoothing her blanket primly.
“Thoughtfulness is one thing,” I mumbled. “Ass-kissing is another.”
Gran laughed. “Oh, Red. When will you learn to accept kindness without suspicion?”
“Suspicion’s kind of my thing, Gran,” I reminded her, stealing a small corner of her brownie and popping it into my mouth. “I’m
trained
not to trust anyone.”
“Well, I think you can trust the Detective,” Gran assured me. “I like him the best of all the men with whom you’ve been involved.”
I started at her presumption, choking a little on the brownie. “What? No, Gran,” I stammered. “Nate and I aren’t involved.”
She lifted her brows at me. “Oh?”
I rubbed my palms on my thighs, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “He’s just a friend. My partner. We work together. That’s it.”
Gran tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. “Mmm-hmm.”
I glowered at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She waved her hand nonchalantly in the air. “Oh, nothing.”
“Gran,” I huffed, “you might as well say it. You’re going to eventually anyway.”
Gran lifted the brownie and nibbled tentatively at the edge. “Hmm. That actually isn’t terribly disappointing.”
“Gran.”
She took a more substantial bite of the dessert and shrugged daintily. “I don’t know many men who would show up early in the morning just to make a colleague breakfast.”
“Nate likes to cook,” I said. “He made me lunch today, too.”
“Really?”
she whispered, clearly intrigued.
I rolled my eyes. “Gran, Seth cooked for me. So did Todd. You see how those relationships turned out. Culinary talent does not true love make.”
Gran shot me an irritated glance. “I am just saying that he has gone out of his way for you. He seems like a perfect gentleman. And he certainly is handsome enough.”
“I’ll give you that last one,” I agreed. “But he’s also a Reaper, Gran.”
She polished off the brownie and brushed the crumbs from her hands. “Well, we all have our idiosyncrasies.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Idiosyncrasies? Gran, he’s Death. Capital D.”
“Yes, dear, I
know.
You said that already. What is your point exactly?”
I shook my head, realizing I wasn’t going to win this one. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“I’m merely suggesting you give him a chance,” Gran said, fiddling with the coverlet again.
“Fine,” I relented. “I’ll keep it in mind.” Then, trying to sound casual, I said, “So, I saw Vlad today.”
Gran’s hands stilled instantly. After a moment’s hesitation she sighed. “Oh, Red.”
“He was a suspect in the investigation,” I divulged, “so I had to bring him in for questioning.”
Gran folded her hands on her lap. “And?”
“And we let him go,” I told her. “Airtight alibis.”
She looked down her nose at me, making me squirm a little. “That is not what I meant, and you know it.”
“He asked me out on a date.”
Gran’s posture eased slightly, but her expression was still guarded. “Before or after you slept with him?”
“Gran!” I shrieked, going probably five shades of red.
“What?” she asked innocently. “I am not nearly the prudish old woman you think, Tess Little. I recall what it’s like to have sexual needs.”
“Oh, God!” I launched to my feet, covering my ears.
“Do you think only you young Tales have needs and desires?” she demanded. “I might be old, my girl, but I’m not dead. In fact—”
“We are
not
having this conversation!” I groaned. My stomach churned ominously as I desperately tried to keep images of Gran in flagrante with God-knows-who out of my head.
Gran laughed. “All right, all right. I won’t torture you any further with the assignations of an old woman.”
“Thank God.”
Gran held out a hand to me, beckoning me to her. Obediently, I took her hand and sat on the edge of the bed. “I have always respected your choices, my darling,” she reminded me, “even if I haven’t always understood them. I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood—I ask only that you be careful. Vlad Dracula . . . well, he concerns me. He always has.”
I gave her what I hoped was a comforting smile. “It’s just dinner, Gran. And I’m choosing the place. He’s not even picking me up; he’s sending a car for me tomorrow evening and meeting me at the restaurant.”
Gran let out a slow breath, then nodded. “Well, I cannot pretend I won’t be pacing the floor all night long.”
“You’re coming home tomorrow?” I asked, surprised yet gratified she was recovering so quickly.
“Did you think I’d stay down for long?” she asked, the old twinkle back in her eyes. “I have an interview with Thumbelina next week. I can’t miss out on that.”
“What about security measures?” I asked. “Has the studio increased their security in any way since the attack?”
Gran shook her head. “I have no idea, dear, but I imagine they will do something to keep this from happening to anyone else.”
I pressed my lips together, not wanting to tell her my theories about her attack not being just a random act of violence. There was no sense in worrying her with conjectures and gut feelings. She had a life to live just like the rest of us and couldn’t be kept under lock and key until I sorted out who was killing Tales and why.
“I need you to promise you’ll be careful, too,” I insisted. “If you feel threatened in any way—even if it’s just a bad feeling—I want you to call me. Or Nate. He can be there quicker than I can.”
“Of course!” Gran agreed. “I have no desire to repeat what happened to me this morning.”
We chatted for a few more minutes until Gran started to yawn, so I tucked her into her bed and made sure she was asleep before I finally crept from the room, shutting the door quietly behind me.
I checked all the rooms near hers but all the patients looked legit and nothing else seemed out of place, so I left my cell number with the night nurse, just in case she needed to reach me. Then I made my way out of the hospital and into the darkening night.
Chapter 14
 
When I left the hospital, the last place I wanted to go was home, so I caught a cab and headed to my favorite hangout. When it comes to quaint, little-known pubs, Ever Afters is about as hole-in-the-wall as you can get. There’s a simple wooden shingle hanging outside the windowless door, which, thanks to a fairy enchantment, reads Coleman Shoe Repair to Ordinary passersby. But the true nature of the establishment is well known to us Tales.
The place was packed as usual when I got there, Tales crammed around tables and standing at the bar, if they were lucky. The unlucky found themselves wedged into any available square inch of open floor, juggling drinks and dodging busy waitstaff. In the back corner on a small stage, the house band, Fiddlers Three, had just struck up a lively rendition of an old Chieftains’ tune that set the crowd to clapping and dancing impromptu jigs, thereby sloshing their drinks onto the already sticky floor.
Determined not to be one of the unlucky, I elbowed my way through the crowd and up to the bar, insinuating myself between two guys in suits who weren’t making use of the lone vacant bar stool.
“Hey!” barked a sharp voice at my elbow.
So
not in the mood for anybody’s shit, I turned toward the guy, poised to take him down if necessary, but when I saw who it was, my eyes widened with delighted surprise. “Well, if it isn’t Nicky Blue!”
Nicky offered me his lazy grin and held up his arms in invitation. “Hi ya, Red.” When I threw my arms around his neck, he hugged me back, then kissed both my cheeks. “It’s been a long time, kid.”
If Nate had stepped out of
Casablanca,
Nicky “Little Boy” Blue came straight from
The Godfather.
He was about as close as you could get to being a Corleone without actually being ripped from the pages of Puzo’s famous tome. In fact, there were times I wondered if maybe Nicky had been Puzo’s inspiration for the young Vito.
Nicky certainly wasn’t short on good looks or charm, but I knew beneath the suave exterior and relaxed demeanor lay the keen intelligence and brutal resolve of a man who had climbed his way to the top and intended to stay there. Nicky demanded complete loyalty and professionalism from those who worked for him—anything less than the best was unacceptable. He ran his business interests with a deadly efficiency that would have made some of the more hardened dons look like little more than schoolyard bullies.
Fortunately, Nicky tended to stay on the right side of the law when it came to anyone outside his outfit and was in good with the Ordinaries, so the FMA tended to look the other way, for the most part—at least for now. Although I knew what Nicky did for a living, I couldn’t help but love the guy. I honestly didn’t know what I’d do if
he
ever showed up on my to-do list.
“When did you get back in town, Nicky?” I asked, grinning from ear to ear at seeing my friend so unexpectedly. “I thought you and Jules were still in the Old Country.”
Nicky shrugged and leaned casually on the bar. “It was good to visit, but I couldn’t be away too long. Business doesn’t run itself. Plus, a little of the in-laws goes a long way.”
I could imagine—especially with that querulous lot. The Capulets were always fighting with somebody.
“So what’s new with you, kid?” he asked, waving a hand to signal the bartender. “You still hanging out with that dolt Dracula? I’ll never forgive that blood-sucking bastard for turning your head away from me.”
I gave him a teasing grin. “Ah, come on, Nicky,” I said. “You know I never would have been the good little wife you were looking for. Jules is much better for you.”
Nicky’s eyes sparkled. “Yeah, but we sure had some good times, kid.”
Oh, man, did we ever....
“What can I get for you two?”
Relieved at the interruption, I looked up and smiled at Bob “Old King” Cole, proprietor of Ever Afters. Bob was easily the most jolly, jovial man I’d ever met, and with his round belly and thick white hair, he easily could have moonlighted as Santa. His blue eyes held an omnipresent merriment that was completely contagious, and just being in the same general vicinity as Bob could buoy your spirits even on the worst day—which was probably why his business was always booming.
“Hi, Bob,” I replied, now doubly glad that I’d decided to stop in. “The usual for me, thanks.”
Nicky gave a nod to Bob and tapped his empty glass. “I’ll take another, Bob.” Nicky waited until Bob had placed our drinks in front of us, then turned back to me. “So what’s doing, kid? I can tell you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
I shook my head. “I never could pull one over on you, could I?”
Nicky took a drink of his scotch and gave me a wink. “Not on your life.”
I edged a little closer on the off chance someone might actually hear our conversation over the Fiddlers’ current jig, and rolled my bottle of Guinness between my palms. “Dave Hamelin offed himself the other night,” I informed him.
Nicky’s dark brows shot up. “The Pied Piper? Everything was going well for him from what I heard.”
“That’s the problem,” I replied. “Business was going a little too great, I think. He did some work for Todd Caliban, then suddenly had contracts with the Charmings and Tim Halloran.”
Nicky’s eyes went a little stormy at the mention of Tim Halloran. “If he fell in with that drug-peddling prick Halloran, then there’s no telling what he was into.”
I nodded. “That’s my concern. And I think magic might be involved. Not with his death, but with the jobs he was working on.”
Nicky leaned in a little more so that our shoulders were touching. “You think he was murdered?”
I took a long drink of my Guinness and shook my head slowly. “No, I don’t think so. All indications point to a self-inflicted gunshot wound. But he was scared enough to fear being caught and taken in.” I took another drink and stared hard at the bottle in my hands. “I feel like there’s something I’m missing, that the answer’s right there in front of me.”
“Let me check into it,” Nicky offered. “Maybe there’s something my people have heard that wouldn’t have gotten back to you.”
I turned my head and offered him an appreciative grin. “You’d do that?”
Nicky nodded. “You bet, kid.”
I glanced away, watching my fingers peel off the label on my beer. “Can I ask you another favor, then?”
Nicky put his hand on one of mine, stilling my agitated fidgeting. “You know you only have to ask, Red.”
“Someone attacked Gran,” I told him. “I don’t know why, but I think it’s connected to another investigation. I want someone to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t get attacked again.”
“You got it,” Nicky said without hesitation. “You know I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for your Gran. She’s good people. I’ll send one of my best guys to look after her.”
“Thanks, Nicky,” I said sincerely. “I’ll owe you one.”
Nicky shook his head. “Not on this one, kid.” He squeezed my hand and studied me for a moment before leaning over and kissing my cheek. “This one’s between friends.”
I squeezed his hand back, thinking Jules was a damned lucky woman. “Thanks.”
“You tell me if you need anything else, Red,” he insisted. “You don’t have to go it alone all the time, you know.”
“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” I said, eyeing him suspiciously.
He gave me a knowing grin. “What can I say? A guy hears things.” He got up from his bar stool and tossed back the last of his scotch. As he turned to go, he gave me a wink and said, “Let me know how that new partner works out for you.”
 
 
As the crowd finally started to thin, I rose from my bar stool and tried to place a few twenties by my row of empty bottles and shot glasses, but Bob pushed the money back toward me. “No need,” he said. “Already taken care of.”
I frowned. “What? Who?”
Bob nodded toward the back corner where a lone patron sat enshrouded in shadow. The man lifted his glass in salute and inclined his head before setting his glass aside and rising from his chair. I let out a shaky breath as he walked toward me, my heart pounding so loudly I was afraid he might hear it.
“You need a ride home
now
?” Nate asked with a grin.
I blinked at him, mostly because he was a little blurry. “I was going to take a cab.” Well, I think that’s what I said, but it sounded kind of funny, so I’m not sure if that’s how it came out.
Nate tried to hide a smile as he put an arm around my shoulders. “Come on.”
Trying to prove that I was just fine, thank you very much, I jerked away from his hold—which was a mistake. In what I suspect was a graceless spiral, I lost my balance and ended up sitting on some woman’s lap. “Sorry,” I mumbled, flailing about as I tried to stand.
Fortunately, the gal was a happy drunk and thought the episode uproariously funny and didn’t take offense at the sudden intrusion into her personal space. As she giggled with her companions, Nate helped me back to my feet.
“You going to let me help you now,” he asked, “or should I continue to let you make an idiot of yourself?”
I shot him a dirty look but didn’t fight back this time as he supported me to the door. I heard him call a farewell to Bob just as the cold wind hit me in the face, making me gasp a string of curses at the sudden assault on my senses.
“Rough day at the office, honey?” Nate quipped, leading me to his car.
Always quick with the comeback, I retorted, “Shut up.”
Nate dropped me into the passenger seat and, because my arms were dancing around like a marionette that had lost its strings, buckled me in. I vaguely remember the car beginning to move and the welcome warmth inside it as the heat finally kicked in, but I must have dozed off for a little while because the next thing I knew, Nate was half carrying me into the house and dragging me up the stairs to my bedroom.
As soon as he helped me stretch out on the bed, the room began to spin, so I closed my eyes, willing it to stop. All of it. The spinning, the pitching, the rolling, the hurting, the aching, the remembering, the regretting, the—
Damn it!
I felt tears on my cheeks but didn’t bother to wipe them away. I was on the verge of devolving into a drunken, weeping mess when I felt a tug on my foot and instinct took over. Without thinking, I kicked. Hard.
I heard Nate grunt as I nailed him square in the chest. He cursed something under his breath, then snapped, “Hold still! I’m trying to take your boot off!”
“I don’t want my boot off,” I said, feeling that was a perfectly reasonable argument. “Just leave it on.”
Nate sighed and gave another tug, nearly pulling me off the bed in the process. “Hey!” I cried. “What the hell!”
“Give me the other foot,” he ordered.
I briefly considered being difficult, but my stomach started to roll around again, so I lifted my foot. “Fine.”
He peeled off my other boot, then went for my socks.
“I can do it,” I protested, but he pulled them off anyway.
“Huh,” he said.
I blinked at him. “What?”
“I wouldn’t have guessed silver.”
I frowned, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about. Then some inkling of understanding made it through my alcohol haze. “Elizabeth and I get pedicures every couple of weeks. Big deal.”
I could feel Nate’s grin like it was a charge in the air. “I like it.”
I made some kind of noise in response, then curled into a ball on my side. “I don’t feel so great.”
I had no sooner spoken than my stomach heaved. By some small miracle, Nate was there with the wastebasket. I don’t know how long I went on—for five seconds or five minutes—it seemed like forever. When I had finally purged my stomach, I dropped back down on the pillows and closed my eyes, ping-ponging between misery and humiliation.
I heard Nate leave the room and figured he was probably running far, far away after my stunning display, but a moment later, he was back, helping me sit up and holding a glass of cool water to my lips.
“Just a little,” he said. When I’d had enough, he eased me back down on the pillows and smoothed my hair back from my face.
My faculties began to return to me now that I’d rid myself of the mass quantities of Guinness and Goose that I’d consumed, and a whole new wave of mortification washed over me. So much for making a good impression on my new partner.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, my body beginning to drift, edging closer to sleep.
“For what?” Nate asked, pulling my covers up over me. The bed dipped a little as he sat on the edge and peered down at me.
“For being such a mess.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I felt Nate press a kiss to the top of my head—just a light brush of his lips against my hair. Whether real or imagined, that kiss quieted my soul in a way I never thought possible. And for the first time in as long as I could remember, I fell asleep with a smile.

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