This Side of the Grave

We were never going to get each other’s names right.

 

“I’m not promising that we can find her, but we’ll look,” I said, giving him a light squeeze back.

 

Timmie let me go, flashing a crooked smile at Bones. “Aren’t you going to threaten to pull my nuts off for that?”

 

A dark brow arched. “Not at the moment.”

 

“Cathy, what happened seven years ago?” Timmie asked. “Why did the feds claim you were shot trying to escape after being arrested for killing the governor and your whole family? I knew that was bullshit. You could never kill anyone.”

 

Something between a laugh and a snort escaped Bones. I shifted uncomfortably. Here’s hoping I never had to explain to Timmie the reason behind my nickname of the Red Reaper.

 

“Well, the part about the killing the governor . . . that was true, but he totally had it coming. He was involved in some very bad shit and my grandparents were murdered because of him. Then this secret unit of the government recruited me to work for them—”

 

“Men in black!” Timmie interrupted triumphantly. “I knew they existed. Those creeps have been sabotaging my stories about the paranormal for years!”

 

I stopped myself before I rolled my eyes. “Uh, yeah, but why are you surprised by that? They couldn’t just sit on their hands while you scared the hell out of people telling them things they’re not ready to hear.”

 

Timmie bristled. “I can’t believe you’d say that. The public has a right to know—”

 

“Bollocks,” Bones interrupted crisply. “Governments might lie to their people for selfish reasons most of the time, but this one they’re spot-on about. Think there wouldn’t be worldwide hysteria if the masses knew they shared this planet with creatures from their bedtime stories? A nuclear bomb would cause less devastation.”

 

“We could handle it,” Timmie said, his chin jutting out further.

 

Bones let out a derisive noise. “The day your kind stops killing each other over skin color or which god someone prays to, I might believe that.”

 

I cleared my throat, defensiveness for my former species rising within me. “Considering what’s going on with vampires and ghouls at the moment, I’d say humans don’t have a monopoly on lethal bigotry.”

 

“Yes, but it’s been six hundred years since our kind last clashed over such matters,” Bones muttered.

 

“Really? What happened six hundred years ago?” Timmie asked, echoing the same question that popped into my mind.

 

Bones’s expression cleared, becoming inscrutable. I knew him well enough to know such a reaction meant he’d just spilled something he hadn’t meant to, though I didn’t know what the big deal was. Six hundred years was a long time. Whatever happened back then should have no bearing on the potential trouble stirring between vampires and ghouls today . . .

 

Premonition slid a cold path up my spine. The past few days, hearing my mother and uncle parrot the same ill-founded arguments I’d once used had reminded me time and again of when I’d first met Bones. Something teased the edge of my mind from that time. A long-forgotten memory of what Bones said the second night we met, when he thought another vampire sent me after him because he couldn’t believe I was a half-breed.

 

Suppose I believe you’re the offspring of a human and a vampire. Almost unheard of, but we’ll get back to that . . .

 

“Bones, whatever happened to the other half-breed? You said half-breeds were almost unheard of, and Gregor mentioned at least one before me, right?”

 

He let out a slow hiss, something he didn’t do unless he was upset or aroused, and these were not titillating circumstances.

 

“Kitten, now’s really not the time—”

 

“My ass,” I cut him off, voice hardening as my suspicions were confirmed. “Talk.”

 

Timmie cast an interested look between the two of us, but didn’t say anything. Bones ran a hand through his hair in a frustrated way before meeting my gaze.

 

“Let’s take a drive. Need to bring your mate home anyway.”

 

So he was being very cautious about being overheard. No way would we drive straight to Timmie’s apartment and drop him off before we explained how we needed his help with the ghouls. I gave a short nod before gesturing to Timmie.

 

“Come on, our car’s this way.”

 

“I brought my own,” he began, stopping at the glare Bones threw him. “But I can always come back and get it later,” Timmie lamely finished.

 

“Wise choice,” Bones commented. “After you, mate.”

 

 

 

 

 

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