Page 55 of Grim Tidings

It’s almost enough to make me laugh. Yeah, I agree. There are sharp edges everywhere.

I clean up the flowers and try to reassure myself that it was an accident, and not a sign.

Chapter Thirteen

Gabriel

Darcy is quiet as we trail across the street to the bar, the mums held securely in her arms. The yellow blooms make her skin glow, little circles of gold haloed beneath her chin.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she mutters when I glance over for the third time.

“Like what?” I ask, reaching into my jeans pocket for my keys.

“I don’t know. Like you’re waiting for dark magic to explode out of me.”

That’s not what I’m worried about. Fine, that’s less than fifty percent of what I’m worried about. I can’t stop thinking about the shock on her face, and how quickly it ebbed into panic. How she stared at her hands like they didn’t belong to her at all.

“Has that … happened before?” I ask carefully.

I shoulder open the door of the bar, then grab the mums from her arms. I place them on the edge of the porch only for Darcy to immediately move them to the other side.

“No,” she says quietly, avoiding my eyes. “That was new.”

“Why do you think it’s happening now?”

She stops fussing with the flowers and stands, brushing her palms against the front of her jeans. She’s in her unofficial uniform today. Dark denim and dark boots with a dark sweater.

“I don’t know,” she says, but the look on her face tells me she has some ideas. She chews on her bottom lip. “Do you think Tater Tot will be okay with Frank for a while?”

I stare down at the top of her head as she slips past me into the bar, deciding I’ll allow the clumsy attempt at a subject change. She wanders over to the stool on the left she seems to like better than all the rest while I slap on the lights. The lanterns above the bar flick on and everything glows orange and red.

“Yes, I believe your hell beast will be just fine with the seemingly endless amount of treats Frank seems bound and determined to feed him.”

“He’s not a hell beast,” Darcy argues. She slips onto the stool I now consider hers while I debate whether that’s a good thing.

It’s probably not.

I duck under the edge of the counter and slip off my jacket, tossing it over a crate of wine bottles I haven’t bothered to unload yet. “Sorry,” I say. “Your zombie dog.”

“He’s not a zombie either. He’s just—” She swings her braid around her shoulder and toys with the end of it. “Undead, I guess.”

I grab two glasses with one hand, dropping them on the counter between us. “Right, so. A zombie.”

“Not a zombie.” Darcy presses up on the stool, leaning over the counter to grab the soda gun. She pours herself a generous glass of Coke, then tops me off with tonic water. “You’re undead. Are you a zombie?”

I grin at her. All teeth. “I’m an angel, sweetheart.”

She huffs. The first smile since we left Frank’s teases the edges of her mouth. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

“And what a lovely ass it is.”

She laughs and it settles at the base of my sternum. Like the press of a dull blade or … a band around my chest. I shouldn’t flirt with her. I shouldn’t do anything with her, but all the things that initially yanked me in her direction are still there.

Those sad eyes and that sharp mouth. The way she’s always looking at everything around her like it’s something she wants to be a part of. She wasn’t far off the mark when she said my Guardian instincts guide me forward.

“Okay.” I take a sip of my drink, forgetting she poured me tonic. I flinch when I taste the bitter. Darcy snickers. “Let’s talk about your list.” I hold the folded-up paper between us. Darcy plucks it from between my fingers.

“I get to choose this time,” she says with a haughty little expression that has everything south of my belt tightening.