The Grimm Files Collection Boxed Set

by Selene Charles

  Losing what was left of my flagging patience, I planted a hand on my hip and glared at her. It wasn’t necessarily a wise move, and I might have regretted it when the guardsmen lifted up their bramble pitchforks and aimed them directly at my heart. One word from their queen, and what was only the size of a walnut’s shell could become as mammoth as a kraken’s tentacle and as powerful too. More fools had died mocking the fae than one might expect, and since I was no fool, I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender.

  “I am sorry, Queen Titiana. ’Tis only that I have urgent business to attend to,” I said in the old speech, speaking to her not as a disgraced siren but as the royalty I’d once been.

  Her wee nostrils flared, and her glare was as hot and raking as any sword could be. That damned Caytla—if I ever got my hands on that tiny winged fool, I’d wring her neck. I thanked the gods the fae couldn’t read thoughts, or she’d know my apology had been less than sincere.

  But finally, after what felt like an eternity, she dipped her head. “Weel then.” She dusted off her dewdrop gown.

  The pitchforks suddenly vanished, and the winged little men were once again eyeing me with lustful avarice in their beady black eyes.

  I released a shaky breath.

  She sniffed. “King Triton has vowed us free use of his eternal pools— ”

  I hissed. No way in the two hells could that be. I lived in one of the two eternal pools, and Nowhere—the second of the two—was forbidden to even me. This island was my home; it was the only place I could actually live. And the king—who I refused to think of as my father right now—had just decided that I should share my space with a bunch of perfidious, bloody faes! I clenched my hands so tight my nails dug painfully into my palms.

  Not that I expected any less from my seed bearer. He was a rotten bastard, and I knew he must be taking great delight in my distress. He’d never liked me much. Always so much more attentive to my sisters than to me. I’d always been a thorn in his side. A nuisance. He’d been all too happy when I finally gave him the excuse he’d always wanted so that he could finally, finally be free of the curse that was me.

  I bit down on my back teeth, clamping down on the hateful thoughts. This was not the bloody time to be thinking of that man. Not now. Not ever.

  “But… I have a problem. One that none of my court…” She hissed, wrinkling her nose and fairly crackling with rage that lifted all the fine hairs on my forearms. “Can solve.”

  My eyebrows lifted—I sensed I might actually have a hand to play after all. “Are you asking me to come to faery lands?”

  She lifted her chin—a proud, arrogant queen. But I saw the way her pupils slitted and the wrinkles lined her plump red lips. The queen was over a millennium old. She was vicious, cunning, and brutal when need be. But she’d not retained her reign so long by only being cruel. She was also fiercely intelligent, diplomatic, and practical.

  “Faery? Nay,” she hissed in her high-pitched singsong tone. “Nay. Never there.” She shuddered. “But we have a small contingency in the Never Lands, and there’s been an issue of late.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. Few creatures were stupid enough to mess with the fae. The fact that Titiana appeared legitimately concerned was more than just a little worrisome.

  I cocked my head. “As in?”

  She pursed her lips, looking as if she’d been sucking on a lemon. “There be a dragon skulking about.”

  I lifted my eyebrows, flooded with relief. Dragons were dangerous, yes, but that was nowhere near my jurisdiction. And considering there was only one dragon that I knew of patrolling the Neverlandian skies, I didn’t think they were in any true danger. “Likely Whiskers—he’s harmless. Plays with the Lost Boys, lives in one of the fanged-tooth mountain ranges. I’m sure if you just spoke with him, he’d be more than happy to relocate.”

  “We don’t mind the dragon, fish eater. He’s merely a nuisance. Usually. But my guards have noted his behavior growing erratic as of late—patrolling the skies at odd hours, blasting out jets of flame as though he does battle. But never is there anything around.”

  I lifted my eyebrows, waiting for more. Realizing rather quickly there wouldn’t be more, I couldn’t help but wonder why she was making such a big deal of this. “Look, I actually know Whiskers. Not well, but he’s never been anything to worry about. As far as neighbors go, you could have done worse. And if he’s blasting fire, he might be killing insects. I don’t know. Or more likely, he’s eating. You do know that many of Never’s creatures go invisible at night.”

  “That’s not the answer I want to hear,” the queen said silkily and practically vibrated on her seat.

  I knew what she wanted, for me to agree to go and check things out—waste my time and hers, because there was no way in the twins hells that Whiskers was a threat of any sort. I wanted to snap that I didn’t have time for this bullshite, that I and everyone else in Grimm were far too busy to take time out from our stupidly hectic schedules just because a few suddenly decided that a lone pacifist dragon was an issue where he’d never been before. But her wee little guards had lifted their damned bloody pitchforks again, and gods tooth, I hated the fae.

  And why did she even require that of me? Was she setting me up for something? She had her guards, faes far more capable of handling a dragon than I could. Fae were treacherous beasts and I wouldn’t put it past the queen of the winged folk to have an ulterior motive.

  I thinned my lips.

  “I ken your previous relationship with the dragon,” she said, as though answering the very question I was thinking. “It is why I ask that you and not one of my guardsmen handle this.”

  I squinted at her. “How did you know what I was thinking?” There were times I wasn’t sure that fae couldn’t actually read minds.

  “You’re naught but a baby. Reading your expressions is disgustingly easy. What is your answer?”

  “Hm, ” I muttered, thinking that there were a lot of things I didn’t know as well as I sometimes thought I did. It wouldn’t surprise me if the fae could lie—about everything. And their supposed inability to lie was just another lie they told.

  I swallowed my instant retort and instead practiced the kind of patience I saw Maddox use day in and day out. The fact was, I didn’t have much choice, and she and I both knew it. Not if I had any hope of actually leaving my prison. Plastering on a tight smile that I hoped looked less false than it actually was, I said, “Will it get me my shirt?”

  She did some sort of weird nod and rolling of her eyes gesture, which I hoped was a yes.

  “Fine,” I huffed. “I’ll check into the mountain, when I can find a spare minute, and not a minute before. But I want two weeks of air now, not one.”

  She knew I was good for it. Only a fool would dare try to pull one over on the queen of the sprites.

  She thinned her lips, and the little pitchforks were now looking not quite so miniature anymore.

  Scoffing with obvious disgust, she flicked her wrist. “So mote it be, you bloody fish. I hope you rot in the two hells—after you solve my problem, of course.”

  “Don’t really see how Whiskers is much of a problem. You sure you wouldn’t rather reconsider? I can promise you that this is going to be a complete waste of my time and yours.”

  “Then that is my problem, is it not?” She snorted with mirth. “Caytla, craft her the gown and take the pearls too.”

  “Gown?” I shook my head. “I do not wear gowns, and like twin hells I’m giving you the pearls too.”

  “Oh, ye’ll do it, Detective. Ye’ll do it.” Then she turned around in her buzzy little chariot and flew into the heavens, leaving a glittering trail of golden fae light in her wake.

  And just as I was about to snatch up Caytla and wring her scrawny little neck, the fae had already fled in a violent buzz of wings. The pearls had been snatched from out of my hand without my even knowing it too. Fecking annoying the bug might be, but she was fast, blazing fast.

  Lying
in the sand at my feet was a gown, a cocktail gown the shade of a smoky-black pearl with a cinched heart-shaped bodice and a skirt that would barely cover the goods. How the hells was I supposed to work in this shite?

  “Damn you to the two hells, Caytla!” I growled into the dead silence of the night, but if she heard me, I never knew.

  Bloody hells, a dress. I never wore dresses anymore. Not ever. The boys at work were sure to tease me about this one.

  With a growl of disgust, I picked up the revolting thing and grimaced as I slipped it on.

  CHAPTER 20

  DETECTIVE ELLE

  YES, I might be wearing a dress, but I also had on combat boots laced up to my knees and a black leather jacket with metal studs on the collar and wrists. Since I was wearing all black, my electric-blue hair looked even more unnatural and exotic than normal. For once, it actually didn’t look like a frizzy mess but was soft and fell in silky waves down my back.

  Hatter, who’d figured out fairly quickly my morning routine, was waiting for me as usual by Georgie’s coffee cart, legs crossed at the ankles, leaning casually against the silver frame as he and Georgie chatted about nothing in particular.

  His clothing was immaculately pressed. He always wore trousers, jackets, a white button-up shirt, and a scarlet satin cravat tied around his strong neck. My heart gave a flickering bump of approval. There was no denying my partner was gorgeous, with his five-o’clock shadow, the strong, masculine planes of his face, and those unusual blue and green eyes. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t enjoy looking at him—because I did.

  But we were partners, and fraternization was a no go, especially after what Tanner and his wife had done. The office of internal affairs had been up our asses for the past two months. Any infractions, even something as insignificant as “borrowing” office supplies, had caused many good people with badges to be sacked.

  Whatever Hatter and I might or might not have had was tabled for the foreseeable future. Ichabod and I had had a couple of flings, but because we’d never been open about our trysts, we’d flown under the radar. But the amount of digging IA had done had been more than enough to scare us straight.

  For now, Grimm PD was a well-oiled and strictly by-the-books kind of an operation. At least until Delilah Longbottom, IA watchdog and level-10 black witch, got reassigned, which at that rate was looking like exactly never.

  I grunted.

  One foam cup of coffee sat untouched on the counter beside Maddox. I wasn’t sure how the man had done it, but he’d figured me out pretty quickly. I knew without even needing to ask that it would have a double shot of squid ink and would be topped with a creamy layer of sea foam. My mouth was already watering thinking about it. My morning had been shite, and I knew my day wouldn’t see much of an improvement.

  Georgie was the first to spot me. His bushy orange eyebrows practically lifted into his hairline, a look of dumbfounded shock on his craggy face.

  I glowered at him, daring him to say anything. Let him try—he’d be missing a tongue if he did.

  Maddox, aware that something had caught the cave dwarf’s attention, turned to glance at whatever had distracted Georgie. He did a double take, first turning aside quickly then instantly turning again as a slow, curling grin crawled over his handsome features.

  “Fecking hells,” I snipped and held up my finger at him. “Not one word, Detective Smart-Arse.”

  He mimed zipping up his mouth, but his dark eyes glittered with barely disguised humor. I rolled my eyes, fighting my own grin in response to his. Hatter had a way of making me less cranky than I was normally inclined to be. I didn’t know whether that was a good or bad thing, but it was definitely a thing.

  “Wha’ crab pinched ye on the arse this mornin’?” Georgie asked in the familiar grit-inflected voice of his.

  With a curl of my nose, I jerked my chin in thanks toward Maddox and snatched up my cup then took a large swig of it, practically chugging the now-tepid ambrosia.

  “Think she’ll pass out from not breathing?” Georgie asked Maddox with a note of incredulity as I continued to mainline the inky manna from heaven. If I could just shove an IV of the stuff straight into my veins, I probably would.

  “Heard sirens don’t need to breathe much, anyway,” Maddox said, his tone full of good humor.

  I didn’t think I’d ever seen Maddox come to work once without wearing a smile on his freaking handsome face all the time. It was as if nothing was capable of bringing the man down. He’d at least been somewhat normally depressive when he and I had first met in Wonderland. But ever since he’d come to Grimm, he was different—not in any way I could really put my finger on and say this or that was the reason for the change, but he just didn’t seem to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore.

  Everyone at the precinct loved him, even Ich, which, yeah, made me a little jealous if I was being honest. Me, they called the she-hag. Apparently, I had anger issues.

  Pft .

  Only after I’d inhaled the very last drop of the good stuff did I finally take a deep reflexive breath, then I sighed deeply.

  Maddox shot me a questioning look. Some days, I’d order a second, but not today. I shook my head and tossed the cup in the garbage bin.

  “Java was strong today—new vendor?” I asked the dwarf.

  He grinned, revealing his strong, blunt teeth—teeth fully capable of ripping into a fish’s tail with ridiculous ease. Once upon a time, dwarves and sirens were bitter enemies. Resentment ran deep between our species and even still amongst some, like my father, who’d likely choose to stab Georgie rather than smile at him.

  Triton would be so disappointed in me, but then again, when was that new?

  “Yah, not sure about it. Did you no— ”

  “I liked it,” I said, slipping my hand into my jacket pocket. I pulled out the first gem my fingers encountered—I always kept a handful on me at any given time—and slid over what actually happened to be a diamond. Usually, our going rate was blue sapphires, but for diamonds, I expected a little more information, and well he knew it.

  Georgie’s eyes lit up with avarice as he quickly snatched it away then pocketed it so fast his hand was little more than a blur.

  I snorted. “Any news today, dwarf?”

  Georgie had one other skill set that made him invaluable to me, and that was his ability to hear the rumors that ran rampant through the underbelly of Grimm, even quicker than most detectives could. Many times, his clues had been the breadcrumb I’d needed to point me in the right direction to help me solve a case then or even one in the future. Dwarves were short, squat, and to most people so unintelligent that they rarely bit their tongues around them. It didn’t matter that it was absolutely untrue—prejudice ran deep in Grimm. But I knew better.

  If you could get a dwarf in your hip pocket, you were usually one step ahead of the rest of the pack. I couldn’t do half of what I did without him, and the dwarf knew it too.

  “Ye be meaning the Slasher Gang, eh?”

  I shrugged. It was no secret Grimm PD was focused nearly exclusively on bringing down the now-labeled terrorist group. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but what had once been a small-bit bank robbing enterprise had suddenly turned coordinated, highly skilled, and extremely dangerous, probably within the last half year or so.

  All I knew was they were a priority-one catch. Several task forces throughout most of the realms of Grimm as well as the Bureau of Special Investigations, or BS for short, were focused on their capture.

  “No much,” he groused, scratching at his ginger-bearded cheek with one thick finger. “Savin’ for one bit that may or may not mean nuthin’ to ye, but I heard tell at the Rusted Sarcophagus las’ nigh that sumthin real big was fittin’ to go down. Smoke an’ mirrors was the proper term of it. Mean anythin’ to ye?”

  As far as tips went, that wasn’t one of his best. It could mean something or nothing at all. “Too vague to say, Georgie, but should you hear anything else, you know whe
re to find me.”

  “Aye, that, I do, Detective. That, I do.”

  I tipped my chin and glanced behind us. Up till now, we’d been the only ones at the cart, but I could see a small crowd headed unerringly in our direction. The salmon stream of early-morning commuters had finally arrived.

  I shoved my fists into my pockets, walking slowly toward central station. Maddox matched my steps. I blinked, licking my front teeth, ignoring his obvious looks.

  He sighed, and I shook my head.

  “Not right now, Maddox.”

  He took off his perpetual black-silk top hat and brushed his fingers through his slightly long dark-brown hair, causing the ends to poke up in all different directions.

  I didn’t want to snap at him. I really didn’t. But I was sick to damned death of talking about Hook already. One day, he was going to push too far, and I was going to explode, and I really didn’t want to do that, not with him, because after the initial shock of hearing Maddox’s proclamation that Hook was still alive had worn off, I knew two things: one, he was wrong, dead wrong, and two… I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

  “You know, at some point, we’re going to have to talk about this,” he said slowly.

  I stepped onto the sidewalk, avoiding a large, brackish puddle of water. There must have been a downpour last night. The world actually smelled clean, like salt and petrichor, two of my favorite scents in all the hundred realms.

  “Yeah, well, that day’s not gonna be today.” I gave him a look, the kind of look that clearly told him to back off about that subject.

  He held up his hands, but a look of frustration had pinched itself between his thick black eyebrows. “Whatever you say, Detective.”

  Damn it all , he’d called me Detective. Not Elle. He was pissed—at me. And yeah, I knew I was acting like a heinous bitch this morning. Dealing with the fae hadn’t helped, but I’d had a rough night regardless—none of which was his fault.