Page 29 of Looking Grimm (Marionette #4)

It ended the way I knew it would. Death was the conclusion of every story. But, as I stood near the pile of turned dirt marked with a shiny new headstone, I wondered how I’d managed to survive the end of my story and start a new one.

I crouched in the tufted grass with a bouquet of white roses tucked under my arm. My fingers dragged across the letters engraved in the polished quartz.

They’d wasted no time digging the grave and marking it with my name and dates. The local news reported that Fitch Patrick Farrow died in the attack on the Capitol, ridding the city of the last remnant of the scourge known as the Bloody Hex. That official story would be shared with the upcoming class of investigators, and the citizens would rest easy believing every one of their boogeymen was dead and gone.

Holland got the credit for all of it. Rumors were already circulating that she would take over for her father soon, like a queen assuming her place on the city’s throne. I wished her the best. In the wake of so much tragedy and chaos, the people needed a hero, and that was not a mold I was made to fit.

She gave Nash and me everything we needed to make a clean break: fake IDs, secure passage out of town, and directions to a remote cabin in the next state over. It was a welcome respite, but a temporary one. Nash had his sights set on the Canadian border and, with the payout he’d collected from his fire insurance claim on the bar, we could afford to put down roots wherever we wanted.

We didn’t have much to pack. I didn’t have a lot to begin with, and most of Nash’s things had burned or been damaged by smoke. In a single afternoon, we managed to box and cram all of our worldly goods into the back end of the Woody Wagon.

On our way out of town, we stopped at the quiet little cemetery so I could say goodbye. To my parents. To Donovan. To the life I was leaving behind.

The plastic-wrapped roses crinkled as I set them on my brother’s grave.

“Remembered the flowers this time,” I mumbled to the quiet.

I surveyed the four burial plots in a line. I belonged among them. The prospect of leaving the town where I’d spent my entire life still felt surreal and profoundly unfair.

“It should’ve been you, you know.” I directed the words at Donovan’s epitaph and chased them with a lung-swelling sigh. “I was never supposed to get out of here.”

Of course, he didn’t answer, but I wondered what he would say about my new alias—Patrick Edwards, a combination of both our middle names—, or about the Porsche left to rot in police impound. He would definitely have given me a big, fat “I told you so” about the boyfriend I had long before I admitted it to myself.

Shuffling footsteps announced Nash coming up behind me. He stood against my back and rested his hands on my shoulders.

“You want some company?” he asked.

I nodded, realizing how alone I felt with three dead bodies under my feet.

He came around and knelt beside me. We surveyed the burial plots in somber silence, and I couldn’t help but think of bringing him here to help me put Donnie in the dirt. Looking back, Nash had always been around. Even when I was a scared teenager newly thrust into a life of crime, Nash had been constant. Kind. The least problematic person I knew.

It was no wonder I loved him. I imagined I always would.

When distant trees rustling and chirping birds failed to fill the quiet, Nash drew a deep breath. “So, are you gonna introduce me or what?” The angle of his gaze indicated my parents’ weatherworn headstones.

I rolled my eyes. “You just wanna hear me say it.”

“Say what?” He raised a brow.

Nerves made my stomach flutter, but I smiled despite them. “That I’m yours.”

He raked his fingers through his coppery hair, looking simultaneously flustered and cute as hell.

“I do like the sound of that,” he said. “But I also feel it’s my responsibility as a gentleman to be upfront about my intentions.”

I snorted. Talking like that, he was a tailcoat away from channeling some regency romance hero ready to sweep me off my feet.

My lips pursed. “And what are your intentions, Mister Nash?”

Reaching over, he clasped one of my hands between his. I looked at that, then up at him.

“I want to take care of you,” he said. “Treat you well. I want to be the partner you deserve.” His expression was wholly sincere, and his words sent goosebumps prickling down my spine.

“Fuck, Nick.” I expelled a held breath. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

He raised his shoulders. “How about an enthusiastic ‘okay?’”

My gut was churning with feelings I used to scoff at, sentiments I denied until they grew so big I couldn’t keep them inside any longer.

It may not have been enthusiastic, but it was genuine when I told him, “Okay.”

Grinning, Nash pulled me in and kissed my cheek.

We stayed close a moment more before he motioned to the graves again. “I’m still waiting for that introduction.”

I yanked my hand free and flapped it at him. “Fine, fine. Mom, Dad, this is Nick,” I paused for a scarce second before adding, “my boyfriend.”

“Hell, yes,” he said.

Shaking my head, I stood. “You happy?”

Between his toothy grin and those telltale dimples, I hardly needed to wonder, but he assured me anyway. “Very.”

He was still kneeling, so I offered him a hand up. “Well, come on, let’s not keep everybody waiting. ”

He took my hand and rose, then we turned in unison toward the small group lingering a dozen feet away. Ripley, Maggie, and Pippa looked on as Nash and I walked forward to greet them.

Maggie bounded ahead of the other two, gurgling a cheerful noise as she wrapped me in a cold-bodied hug. I returned her embrace before she drew back to clear a path to Ripley who stood aside with his bony arms crossed.

“Bloody well done, mate.” He smiled, and his bi-colored eyes creased at the corners.

“You, too, old-timer,” I replied. “Thanks for the assist.”

He dipped his head in a nod. “It was my pleasure.”

Maggie latched onto him while twirling one of her pink pigtails around her finger.

“Where are you two gonna go?” I remembered the drawn curtains and blinds in their hotel room. The couple’s reclusive lifestyle had been one of necessity but, with the threat of the gang eliminated, that could change.

Ripley shrugged. “Word is the city will be open again soon, and Mags has always wanted to see London.”

At his statement, the zombie girl squealed and gave a little shimmy.

“Looks like you’re on the hook for that.” I chuckled.

He smiled. “It’ll be nice to go home again. Been too long.” He paused, pensive and considering until he said, “When Grimm first found you, he called you a marvel. But I don’t think he ever saw the half of what you really are. Don’t let what he took from you diminish what you have left to give.”

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“Knowing you?” Ripley’s thin lips curved into a smirk. “ A whole lot of hell.”

Nash huffed a laugh as I shook my head.

“Nonsense,” I replied. “I’m a changed man. A model citizen.”

Ripley looked at Nash. “And you’re going to make sure he stays that way, eh, Nicholas?”

From behind the scrawny teen, Pippa approached. She wore a smile, as well, though hers was more guarded. “That’s a tall order, Nick,” she said in a low voice.

I shied away from her inspection. Since the last time we spoke, I’d hardly proven her wrong in her concerns about my impact on her brother’s life. His business was ruined and his home destroyed. A nice insurance settlement was only a Band-Aid on a much bigger wound.

Nash squeezed my hand. “I wouldn’t expect any less from my best customer.”

Pippa gave a scarce nod as she fixed her attention on me. “You love him?” She indicated her brother.

I nodded.

“You’d better because he adores you,” she said, then added in a mumble, “For whatever reason.”

Nash sighed. “Pip…”

She waved him off, then stabbed her finger at me. “Be good to him. I already know he’ll be good to you.”

I nodded again, more fervently.

Her stern expression wavered as her green eyes welled with tears. She snuffled a breath. “Damn it, I swore I wouldn’t cry.”

Nash broke away from me to give her hug. She broke away quickly, fanning her face and blinking.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She shoved him back. “Just stay out of trouble, all right? Both of you.”

Nash kissed her temple and gave one last squeeze around her shoulders. “You sure you don’t wanna tag along?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Three’s a crowd, but I’ll visit. Soon.”

He seemed to accept that and resituated his fingers between mine. “You ready?”

The sun was bright and gold, painting him in colors that looked like the nearest thing to hope. At the roadside, the Woody Wagon waited and, ahead of it, the city gate was open to me for the first time in my life. Freedom lay beyond it in the form of a cozy cabin in the woods. After that, maybe we’d find a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and live out the goddamn American dream.

I didn’t breathe for a long moment, feeling the breeze on my cheeks and the soft press of Nash’s palm against mine.

Finally, I looked at him and swallowed down my nerves long enough to reply, “I’m ready.”

THE END