Snatching it away from him, I took a satisfying gulp and sighed heavily. “Well, that’s too bad. I really thought you might have heard something. Maybe next time, old chap.” I went to deposit the gem back in my pocket.
“No, wait! Stop,” he barked. “Stop.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his shaggy head.
Being called a rat in Grimm was a dangerous thing and tantamount to signing your own death certificate if the wrong people found out.
Still, a diamond was a diamond and equal to a year’s worth of wages for Georgie.
Biting the corner of my lip, I gave him wide, innocent eyes and a winsome smile. “What’s the matter, Georgie?” I asked innocently.
“Damn you to the two hells, siren,” he sighed, defeated, and blew out a deep breath. “Gimme here.”
Placing the diamond in his hand, I smiled when he shuddered. There was nothing in the world a dwarf loved more than a diamond.
Rubbing the top of it with his finger, he said, “’Eard rumor from a murder of crows that a cat were involved. ’Tis only rumor, mind you.”
Taking another sip of my coffee, I gave him a disbelieving frown. “A cat? I hardly think a house cat could have done what—”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say it were just any cat, siren. But rather the cat.”
He tipped his head knowingly.
It took me a moment to understand all he was implying, and when I did, I was the one who jerked and lowered my voice to a tight hiss. “Cheshire? Are you saying that Cheshire was responsible for the murders?”
That was the first I’d ever heard of it. But it was also true that most of our solved cold cases could be traced back to a dwarf’s help at some point. I mulled over my choices. I’d been working this tiresome case for two weeks now, and all my leads had hit dead ends. This was easily the most confusing and convoluted case I’d worked on in years, and I could see why it’d gone cold. None of the evidence made any sense.
But for him to claim Cheshire could have been a part of it made absolutely no sense either. Traveling between realms was not only extremely difficult, but near impossible for most. Only a rare few could do it, and only then by strong magick.
“I said it were rumor only, but it is one I’ve heard tell a few times so far.”
There was a tap at my elbow.
I turned, looking into the weathered face of an old fisherman dressed in yellow rubbers.
“I heard the same, miss,” he said in an excited whisper, curling and uncurling his fingers in a silent appeal for his own diamond.
I snorted and shook my head. He reeked of ten-day-old fish parts that’d been sitting out in the sun to rot. “Then file a report,” I snapped before glancing back at Georgie and nodding. “Good coffee. See you around, dwarf.”
“Yeah,” he said with a thick drawl, lips flat and tight with irritation. Glancing over my shoulder he boomed, “Weel, ‘ew’s next!”
Half a block later, I walked through the doors of Grimm PD and sat at my stark desk.
Detective Ichabod Crane gave me a tired smile. He was a thin man, but not unattractively so, who habitually dressed in black and wore his chestnut hair in a severe queue. He had a long face and intelligently keen blue eyes that reminded me of home. It was easy to think him merely a pretty face until one got to talk to him for any length of time and realized he was a genius at decoding even the toughest of riddles.
“Talk to the chief yet?” he asked, drumming long fingers on his desktop as he leaned back in his padded leather chair.
The precinct was a buzz of activity. Fairies, both big and small, flitted through the long, winding halls, dropping the morning case files onto the detectives’ desks. In the corner, a group of three ogres stood munching on marrow-filled donuts. A couple of unruly arseholes were being booked for petty theft and tossed into temporary holding cells, and I knew there was a dragon being detained somewhere inside these walls thanks to the constant thumping vibrations of its tail slamming against the floor. My feet tingled from the aftershocks.
“You mean about the Charmings finally consenting to a sweep? Bo gave me the heads up yesterday afternoon.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Damn. I really wanted that case.”
Snorting, I finished off the last of my latte with a gulp, belched, and then tossed the cup into the garbage bin beside his desk, clapping my hands together when it landed with a dull clang.
Ich hated when I used his bin instead of my own. With a terse growl, he reached inside the bin, whipped out the discarded cup, and flicked it into mine. I smirked. It was so easy to rile him up.
He dusted his hands off, giving me a look that said, “So there!” before settling back down.
“Yeah, well, I’d be happy to hand it off. I hate dealing with royalty. Bunch of too-good pricks who think the rest of the world is worthy only to lick the soles of their boots.”
Raising a stern brow, he pinched his lips, but his eyes twinkled merrily. “Correct me if I’m wrong, little mermaid”—he stressed the moniker he knew I loathed with every fiber of my being—“but you’re royalty.”
Hissing at him, I reached forward and punched his arm. “Say that name again, and I’ll shove a water pick through your head. You know I’m nothing like the rest of them.”
The teasing laughter died from his tongue. Ichabod was one of the few who knew what’d happened to me. It was a secret I kept close to the vest, and one he’d discovered because he was brilliant and deduced the matter on his own. It was also a secret he’d vowed never to share with another.
“I’m sorry, Elle. That joke was in poor taste.”
Thinning my lips, I shook my head. “Whatever.”
I should have apologized in return, but the hurt of that day and everything that’d happened to me since was a can of worms I didn’t dare open myself to. Just thinking about it made me feel raw and violent, and that was the last thing I needed to deal with on a day when I’d be expected to bow in the presence of the bastard and his loathsome queen.
Wetting my lips, I stood, adjusted my holster, and sighed. “I guess I can’t keep dragging this out.” I was just about to turn when I stopped myself. “Look, if you don’t have anything else on your card, I’d be more than happy to have you tag along.”
“You know.” He stood and slipped on his woolen, knee-length jacket. “I think I might.”
I eyed the coat. “It’s not cold outside.”
“I take chills,” he said smoothly and, raising a dark brow, he gestured for me to precede him to the time portal located at the back of the precinct.
Swiping my key card, I punched in the coordinates to the Charming estate. A rift of time parted the veil between realms—a spiraling tunnel of blue that spun with a kaleidoscope of colors.
The first time I’d traveled this way, I’d retched the moment I’d stepped through. The shifting and dancing lights had caused my equilibrium to go haywire. Now, I knew to take a deep breath, close my eyes, and slowly count to ten.
There was no other way to travel between the realms. No roads or even waterways could do it. The world of Grimm was literally separated by time and dimension. A millennium ago, a high council of wizards opened the transdimensional roadways, called the between, that connected Grimm to other dimensions. But due to the high rate of crime committed by outsiders, it’d been ruled that only an elite few could use them anymore—royalty, Grimm PD, and of course, high wizards, but they were few and far between. The wizards were an honorable bunch more concerned with studying their arcane arts than becoming actively involved in the worlds around them.
Which was what made Georgie’s assertions about Cheshire so boggling.
In moments, we were out of the between and standing in a forest full of towering trees. Just yards ahead sat a castle that seemed to gleam like gold in the sunlight. Birds swooped through the azure skies, and rodents scampered up trees. Deer walked elegantly on grassy paths. The smell of apples was everywhere.
Or rather, rotted apples. Snow White refused to let any be pic
ked from the orchards. She had a fierce hatred of the fruit, and I wondered why the Queen continued to let them grow in the first place.
I spied a team of knights on horseback clomping through the castle gates in our direction. At their head was Prince Charming himself, blond hair billowing in the breeze like a silky banner. Ich bumped my shoulder and chuckled. “You look as though you’ve bitten into a lemon.”
“Yeah, well the thought of dealing with the Charmings makes me feel that way.”
The last time I’d come here had been three years ago, and the notorious Casanova had attempted to push his hand down the front of my shirt and grab my left breast. I’d bitten him hard, leaving behind a permanent reminder on that oh-so-regal hand of his that fish bit back.
Ichabod raised a brow as though waiting for me to finish. “Anything I should know?”
Giving him a swift smile, I turned on my heel and nodded. “Yeah. Don’t leave me alone with him. If you do, I can’t guarantee the safety of his family jewels, if you know what I mean.”
Ichabod shivered, cupping the front of his pants. “I’m pretty sure I do.”
Chapter 2
Detective Elle
Charming sat astride his white mount, his blond hair shimmering like threads of gold in the early morning sun. He had a body made for sin and the face of an angel—square jaw, molten-amber eyes, sharp nose, and slashing cheekbones. He looked impressive, like a king. Clothed in the purple colors of royalty and bearing his coat of arms—a regal lion in repose—he’d actually made my heart flutter when I’d first met him.
That was until he’d opened his mouth.
“Hello, fish.” His sensuous lips curled into a seductive grin.
I gritted my teeth, wishing like two hells I could punch him in the mouth. Ichabod cleared his throat.
The sound caused the king to turn and glance down at my partner for the day. “Oh, a commoner.” Charming sniffed.
Ichabod parted his coat, revealing the Grimm PD badge. His face was calm and composed. Nothing ever fazed Ichabod. It was part of what made him such a bloody good detective.
I wished I had even a tenth of his composure.
“I’m sure you received notice from the precinct that we’d be arriving today.” Ichabod was excellent at professional courtesy.
Giving a barely perceptible tilt of his head, Charming rolled his eyes. “Of course I did. And while I’m always happy to see you, girl—”
“Speak to my partner like that one more time,” Ichabod growled, “and I’ll see you cuffed for impeding the progress of a criminal case, king or no.”
For just a moment, I allowed the façade of my face to change, showing Charming the monster hidden beneath the beautiful mask.
Sirens were gorgeous, but only if we wished to be. Behind the beauty was a mouth full of fangs and a thirst for blood.
Charming hissed as his horse reared back. I smirked, feeling petty and triumphant at the same time. I probably should care more or, at the very least, hate that I wasn’t nearly as composed as Ichabod, but I didn’t.
“Just take us to the lake,” I snapped, my patience for faux niceties beginning to wear thin.
Without another word, the king turned his steed and led us toward the back of his estate. Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the edge of the lake.
The way the sunlight reflected off the surface of the water made it appear like glass. It was pretty, but I’d seen better. The lake was open, with no trees around for shade. It was an easy vantage point from which to see for miles around—and be seen from, as well. Not the best place to kill someone. But since the murders had taken place at twilight, the killer—or killers, as we’d not yet discounted that possibility—had benefited from the concealment of night.
I took a moment to stop and inhale. To a siren, the smell of water was like a fingerprint, distinct from one lake bed to the next. This one held a hint of sweetness from the apples rotted into the ground, a touch of earth from the heavy wash of disturbed mud from recent rains, and... sulfur? I sniffed harder, trying to understand the very faint but odd odor of sulfur that wasn’t quite sulfur at all.
I wrinkled my nose. “Have you tested the levels of bacteria in this water?” I spared a glance for the king.
Charming shrugged, giving me a blank stare. “You would need to ask the groundskeeper. Why?” he snapped.
Reminding myself that I was a professional, I swallowed my growl and answered. “Because there is a smell of sulfide here, but it is not common to this region.”
Ich hummed, a clear sign that he was already beginning to cogitate upon this riddle. Turning, he began a slow walk around the mile-wide body of water, eyeing the glassy surface of it like the academic he was.
Crossing my arms, I looked at the king, who stared at the water, dumbfounded. “And what has that to do with the murders?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.”
“Whatever.” Shaking his head, he pointed at the lake. “As you can see, there is nothing here. Detectives have combed through these woods most thoroughly, to the aggravation of my Snow.”
“Oh?” I cocked an eyebrow. “I would think you’d want this case solved. It doesn’t exactly look good that a double homicide happened on castle grounds. Shouldn’t it be your priority to see this case settled?”
He glowered. “You damn well know that is the only reason I allow you rats with badges to come scampering at my doorstep, you little bitch.”
“Classy as ever, King. Why isn’t Snow here?” I pressed harder.
Charming was as clueless as the day was bright. He was a pretty face with a title and nothing more. But Snow White was known to walk her gardens frequently. After reading the reports thoroughly, I knew Snow had claimed to know and see nothing, but sometimes, what seemed inconsequential at first began to make an impression over time. I’d hoped to question her once more, just to see if any new memory could be jogged loose.
“She is caring for our daughter.”
Shocked, I shook my head. “Daughter?”
When had the Charmings gotten pregnant? To be fair, work often kept my mind preoccupied, but a royal child was a big event, one I should have heard about.
“Rosemary,” he gruffed, and it seemed to me that a genuine smile crossed his lips. His eyes sparkled as he continued to speak of his daughter, so much so that I lost my words. It wasn’t an act at all. The king was thoroughly smitten by his offspring. Perhaps the king had a soul after all. “She is almost a year and a half—”
Then he snarled, blinking himself back to the present. As though realizing who it was he spoke to, a transformation took hold of his features. “She is not coming, and I am only going to grant you both another ten minutes on these grounds before I kick you out. Do what you must and then leave us!”
With a flick of his crop against the horse’s withers, Charming turned, racing at breakneck speed back toward the castle.
“Prick,” I hissed just as Ichabod came trotting back to my side.
“What was that?” he asked, eyeing the guards left behind, who were now looking at us coldly.
Shaking my head, I dropped to my knees. “We’ve ten minutes to gather any evidence we can, and then we’re to go.”
We didn’t have a warrant to search the grounds. We probably should have gotten one, but the Charmings had been more than willing to work with GPD up to this point. Had this case not involved royalty, there’d have been a search warrant, no doubt. But in Grimm, politics and rank smeared together into a messy, unwritten set of rules all adhered to. It was the good ol’ boy system of “You scratch my back, and I’ll make sure your precinct benefits.”
Grimm was as crooked as the day was long, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it either. I’d tried once and nearly lost my badge for the effort.
“Did you find anything when you walked the perimeter?” I asked, still sniffing the breeze. The sulfide smell was faint, but it was definitely not from around here.<
br />
One of the most befuddling parts of the crime last year had been the complete lack of evidence. Normally, there was something—a stray hair, a bullet, fibers, footprints, something. But in this case, there’d been nothing other than the bodies themselves. But nowhere in the report had there been mention of the strange odor emanating from the waters.
Perhaps that was because the only beings who would have been capable of scenting such a minor anomaly were water elementals. And I was the only water elemental holding a badge. One prone to seeing conspiracies might wonder why I’d not been sent out immediately to investigate.
I inhaled deeply. “Something’s not right with this water.”
“They did a water drag and found nothing,” Ichabod murmured, his eyes never leaving the rippling movements below.
“I’m sure they wouldn’t have because what I’m smelling isn’t actually in the water itself,” I said and then ran my palm an inch above the surface of the lake. The complacent pool filled with ripples, then ripples turned into waves until, with a soft roaring sound, the waters parted, revealing the densely packed mud more than ten feet beneath.
I cocked my head, peering intently at the thick sludge and decomposing plant and animal life.
“Do you see something?” Ichabod asked a second later.
I shook my head. “No. But something is down there that shouldn’t be in this realm.”
Standing, I walked a slow circle around the lake, moving the water from one spot to the next as I studied the dense, wet earth. There was something encased below, I was absolutely sure. And when I got halfway around the pond, I finally spied what I’d been looking for—a ridged knot of earth, far different in coloration than the rest of the clay bed, which was a dull, rust red. This patch was black as tar, as though something had befouled the very soil itself.
Narrowing my eyes, I held out my palm and called for whatever was buried in the mud. A gentle swell of water latched on to the objects, suctioning them out of the muck before depositing them into my hand. I cringed at the wet glop dripping between my fingers. With a softly spoken command, the waters rolled back to where they belonged once again.
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