Chapter 20

G rant pulled the door of his SUV shut and started the engine. Instead of backing out of the parking space in his apartment's lot, Grant fiddled with the radio volume and listened intently to the fallen knights' dispatch. Each morning, he rose at least an hour early so he could squeeze in time to aid the Council and his race in keeping the streets of Las Vegas safe.

It wasn't necessary. He was a Venerable Knight. It was his job to sign off on cases sent to him by Juris Knights who had sentenced people captured by other officers. But Grant was the new guy. Untested. Untried. He wanted to assure everyone he was worthy of his title.

Unfortunately, his people were too fucking good at their jobs. Crimes were barely called out over the dispatch before someone nearby cruised in to save the day. Grant wanted one of those hero moments. Just one to boost his confidence and to give him a feel for what the fallen knights he oversaw endured daily.

Since Grant hadn't eaten anything, he put the SUV in reverse and headed to a local donut shop for treats and coffee. He needed to get over his desire to jump in and vanquish a criminal. It was silly. Intellectually, Grant understood that. Yet here he was ready to fill his belly with glazed goodness while he hoped for the impossible.

Grateful for the drive-thru, he ordered a dozen donuts and the biggest coffee on the menu. Grant set his drink in the cupholder and drove to headquarters. Once there, he pulled into the garage. After putting the car in park, he turned off the engine but kept the radio on. Feeling foolish for his behavior, Grant unsecured his seatbelt and opened the pink pastry box.

He unfolded a napkin and laid it on his black uniform pants, then dug in. Calories were irrelevant, so Grant filled his tummy and admonished himself for being a fool. Tomorrow, he'd force himself to stay in his apartment until it was time to go to work. He'd teleport home and leave his SUV at work. It wasn't the first morning he'd settled on that plan, but he needed to stick with it.

With a shake of his head, Grant chugged his coffee and thanked Fate his job was starting in a vastly different way than Samson's had. Samson hadn't gone looking for trouble, but it'd found him. According to the case report Grant had read through, Samson had entered the garage with nearly every Daray to show off his SUV with its distinctive shield insignia on the doors, advertising the driver as a Venerable Knight.

The Darays hadn't made it to the vehicle. Two explosions had rocked through the garage, and tragedy had forever altered the Darays. One of their own—the initial reaper who wasn't brought to life with the same impenetrable skin as every other undead soldier walking around—had died. In total, forty-seven people had lost their lives that morning thanks to a terrorist group.

The details on the organization remained scant even though a task force was still investigating them. To learn everything he could, Grant had scheduled a meeting with the leader of the task force, Lich Reaper Grymington Daray.

Grant polished off the last donut and glanced at his watch. If he wanted to be on time for that meeting, he needed to get over his hero complex and get upstairs.

Grant grabbed his half-full cup and the empty box. Hopping out of the car, he stalked to a trash can and dumped everything but his coffee into it. He marched inside and hit the button for the elevator. As he waited for it to arrive, Grant used his free hand to tug his phone out of his pocket and connected with the man he was quickly growing to adore.

"VK Calixtus."

"Good morning, honeybunch."

"Did you remember to save me a donut?"

Grant grimaced. "Whoops."

"No kisses for you this morning."

"You're a terrible person."

"Says the man who consumed a dozen donuts without once thinking of his starving mate."

The elevator dinged, and Grant stepped inside. He hit the button for the right floor. "You ate a full breakfast catered by the fancy kitchen in your apartment building. Mine doesn't have that service, so I had to venture out to hunt for my own food."

"I'd say it was more of a gathering mission than an actual hunt."

"Tell me, sweetie, did you have bacon this morning?"

"What's with the weird names?"

Grant chuckled. The doors of the elevator glided open, and he exited. "I found a list online of terms of endearment. I'm trying them on for size to see if any of them stick."

"Okay?"

"You don't sound very enthused."

"My feelings are neutral on the subject."

"I'll keep trying. Anyway. Answer my question, lovebug."

"Yes, I had bacon. You could've had some too."

"I didn't get an invitation to sleep over and have breakfast with you this morning."

"If you think you're the only one disappointed they slept alone, think again. I already miss this past weekend."

Barely holding in his sigh, Grant wound his way through the building. "Me too. I like sleeping with you."

"Bring me a donut tomorrow and you can spend the weekend with me."

Grant grinned and wanted to whoop with excitement. The more he was with Roman, the greater his craving for the man. "You're getting a whole fucking box of donuts, cutie patootie."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"Okay, hardass. I have a meeting with Grymmie. Talk to you in a bit. Friday's a few days away, but I'm packing my shit tonight, so you better not be toying with me, Calixtus."

"I remembered you had a meeting this morning. I'll let anyone know where you are if they come looking for you. And Grant, I want six glazed and six chocolate-covered donuts with sprinkles."

Committing the order to memory, Grant's brow creased as he heard loud voices on Roman's end. "What's going on?"

"Hang on a second," Roman said.

Stunned that the man had put him on hold, Grant immediately wondered if there was an issue in the office with a case.

"Sorry," Roman stated tersely a few moments later. "Say the word donut and suddenly people are shouting out orders. Fuck Arvandus, he can get his own treats."

"Fuck you, Roman," Arvandus yelled loud enough that Grant heard it perfectly.

"For Fate's sake, get some donuts yourself or ask Brynn to bake them for you," Roman admonished.

Amused at their suddenly heated exchange over donuts, Grant tugged open the door to the Sentinel Brotherhood headquarters.

"Roman."

Either his mate hadn't heard or he wasn't listening because he continued to bicker with Arvandus. Grant waved at the two men manning the large desk inside the door—Evergreen Tenebri, a necromancer-druid hybrid, and Dudley Tenebri, the sentinel formerly tied to Evergreen's soul.

"Hey," Grant tried again.

"Just a fucking second, Arvandus," Roman barked. "I said get Brynn to bake them, not try to do them yourself or expect Albie to bake."

Arvandus's reply was heated and ripe with curses.

" Roman! " Grant finally yelled. He didn't want to be late for his meeting, and he'd attempted to get the man's attention several times.

"Baby, you okay?" Roman asked, his tone going from clipped to comforting in a flash. Grant's heart swelled with affection for his beautiful mate.

"Yeah, but I gotta go," Grant replied and noted the sharp lift of Evergreen's dark brow. Grant didn't have to be told that his voice had lost several decibels and grown almost syrupy in response to Roman's solicitousness. He would be the first to admit he already had a wealth of affection for the blue-eyed man Fate had picked for his other half. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sorry about the drama. But I'm sure you're not surprised at this point that Arvandus is incapable of acting like an adult."

Ignoring the swearing Arvandus in the background, Grant swallowed the desire to blow a kiss at Roman through the phone. He'd save the thought for later and get a real smooch from his mate when they were alone again. "I'll see you in a bit."

"I'll be here waiting for you. If you have any unanswered questions after your meeting, I'll help if I can."

"Great. Bye."

"Bye, baby."

Amused that he'd looked up terms of endearment but somehow, he was the one who'd earned one, Grant smiled and pocketed his phone.

Evergreen stood and leaned on his long gray desk. "So, Grant…how's Roman?"

"You've seen him. Hot as fuck and wonderfully attentive."

"Details. I want details. Give me your list of sexiest features. How did you narrow it down? Have you experimented with touch and taste on said features?"

Grant laughed. "Can you call Grymmie and tell him I'll be like an hour late for our meeting so I can give you a complete list?"

"Ugh, work is so annoying. I'll call you. You can give me all the juicy details."

Unsure if was serious or not, Grant nodded. "Uh, okay."

"Go on up; Grymmie and the other reapers are waiting for you."

"Thanks," Grant said, giving the pair a second awkward wave. Dudley gave him a quick bob of his head, and Evergreen settled back into his chair with an aggrieved expression.

"No one ever tells me the good stuff," Evergreen muttered as Grant stalked to a staircase.

At the top, he found the offices of the Skeleton Seven, Lich Sentinel, and Lich Reaper. Grymmie's door was wide open, but that didn't stop Grant from rapping the textured glass engraved with a scythe bearing the Lich Reaper's name.

"Hey, Grant, come on in," Scythe Lord Orpheus Daray invited. He was parked on a couch at the end of the room with his resurrected dog, Libitina, at his feet. Each of the reapers had a faithful Siberian Husky that went everywhere with them.

"Grab a seat," Scythe Lord Masse Daray encouraged as he brushed a few stray brown curls out of his yellow eyes.

"Anywhere is fine," Grymington added as he rose from behind his desk and joined Orpheus on the sofa. Masse was on a chair opposite them, and there was a single guest seat available, making Grant's choice easy.

The second he was settled on a black cushion, he took a deep breath. "Thanks for meeting with me this morning. I've read the case file, and it's not something I'm involved in directly, but I'm eager to learn everything I can about major unsolved crimes. I'm incredibly sorry that this one is so personal and want to offer my deepest condolences to you guys, along with the entire Daray family."

"Thank you," Grymington said with a small smile. "I'm glad you called. There is nothing we want more than to solve this case, but the culprits are mysterious. It isn't even known how well organized they are or how many terrorists are in on this plan to wreak havoc on the Council."

"This has been going on for years now, correct? The biggest incident was, of course, here in the garage. I read the report; I don't need specifics about that day. You found the bomber. He was executed for his crimes."

"Yes, and we have another wizard involved with the group in prison. He remains uncooperative despite being handed a lengthy sentence for his part in connection with the executed bomber and the potion he used on the home of his now-ex-girlfriend. Every week, two members of our task force visit him in prison. They discuss shit like the weather, but Darryl Martel remains mute about anything else," Orpheus said.

"Only definitive connection to our rival government is a single statement by Theirry Vioric, right?" Grant asked.

Across the ocean in Europe, the Consilium Veneficus ruled over most wizards, along with a smattering of shifters. The European wizards who were already alive two centuries ago had originally been part of the Council, but they had wished their brethren a fond farewell when the rulers of the Council had departed Europe for North America. It was the now-deceased Arch Wizard Egidius who'd wanted the split from then-ruler of the Council, Chander. For his part, Chander would've done anything to get Conley's body, including moving tens of thousands of people from their ancestral homes to please Egidius.

Nothing had worked, and Chander had recovered the box he'd placed Conley in years after Egidius's death.

"Exactly," Masse answered. "What we know is that the group consists of wizards loyal to the Consilium. Or at least they hate the Council. If there are more than wizards involved, we have no evidence of that. A Tristis elf masquerading online and on the phone as a shifter rented a building to one of the wizards, but that was a monetary thing. He didn't bother with background checks or do any digging, so he didn't realize his renter was a terrorist. All he was interested in was getting the man's rent money.

"We also don't know how extensively their plans stretch or what the ultimate goal is other than creating chaos within the Council," Grymington said, annoyance settling into his gently glowing yellow gaze. "Most of the events are mishaps instead of massive attacks. An earthquake causing a potion to fall off a shelf to level a building. Martel bombing the home of his now-former girlfriend when no one was inside. Another strip mall selected to be blown up for reasons we still can't fathom. People died and were hurt that day. It's almost foolish stuff, or it would be if there wasn't so much devastation. We've tracked this fucking group for years. We are no closer to unraveling this mystery. Frustration settled into my team a long time ago."

"What a clusterfuck," Grant muttered.

"Yep," Orpheus replied. "It was your man who recommended the fallen knights in our group. He knows your people. They're fantastic, and despite how long it's been, they remain determined to aid the Council in finding this group. We don't know how long it'll take, but it will happen. Our team will make sure of it."

Grant couldn't help his smile despite the seriousness of their current subject. "Roman is pretty great."

"I know it's early days yet, but it looked like you two were friendly this past weekend," Masse teased.

"You probably saw nothing but a couple of kisses and maybe some hand holding," Grant replied.

Orpheus's black brows flew up. "I guess that means a lot more was happening behind closed doors. You can totally keep those details to yourself. I don't want to know about anyone's sex life."

Grant laughed. "I wasn't going to share anything. No worries."

"Do you have any other questions for us?" Grymington asked. Then he grinned. "Work-related questions. I'm no expert at relationships. You're on your own there."

"Really? You're not? Were you ever not in Devlin's lap this weekend?" Grant asked. Grymington's other half, Devlin, had barely been a few feet away from the reaper the entire weekend. They were clearly one of the many loving couples in the extended D'Vaire clan that Grant was somehow now included in.

"I know everything about my relationship. About my mate. But it's unique to me and Devlin. I don't think that makes me an expert on other people's relationships," Grymington insisted.

"Okay, that makes sense. I think I'm good with what I know about this case now."

"Call or text us if you think of anything else or have an idea relating to the case. We'll track anything and are willing to go at this from a new perspective. All we care about is stopping this group," Grymington remarked, his gaze earnest.

"I believe in you guys. I'll be in touch if I think of anything. And if you ever need my help for anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Good, the next time I get woken up in the middle of the night because some asshole wizard has leveled another building—hopefully a fucking empty one—I'm calling you. You can wade in the rubble with us," Orpheus replied.

"Count me in," Grant said as he stood to leave. "On a personal note, I can't wait for the next D'Vaire weekend. Thanks for celebrating fallen knights."

"I almost wore my new uniform yesterday," Masse confided. "Larissa put Hel on the patch. Come on, a jacket with my dog? I need more opportunities to wear it."

"We'll find some," Grymington remarked. "Larissa put our dogs on all of ours. They're on the same level of cool as our reaper uniforms. Congratulations on your title, Grant. You earned it and should be very proud."

"Thanks, I'm still working on my imposter syndrome," Grant revealed.

Grymington nodded. "That is understandable. Just keep believing in yourself. Everything will fall into place eventually and you'll accept that you have the title Fate gave you."

Nearly moved to tears by the sincerity in Grymington's voice, Grant nodded and waved to the trio as he wandered out of the office. In his next moment of doubt, he'd recall the Lich Reaper's words. It was a good reminder that Grant was the lone person who didn't believe he was fully worthy of his new title.

The issue was an inner demon, not reality.