On the Edge (The Edge #1)(46)
Author: Ilona Andrews

That sounded like Declan. "He’s good at intimidation," Rose said.

Grandma nodded, her eyes opened wide. "Oh, I believed him. Besides, the curse had backlashed and I had to sit down. Do you know what I was going to do for a living before your rogue of a grandfather sailed into port with his ship and a dashing smile?"

"No."

"Our village supplied retainers for Count d’Artois of the Kingdom of Gaul in the Weird. My family, in particular, had served him for years. Trust me, I recognize blood when I see it. I don’t know what Declan told you, but that boy has generations of blueblood ancestors to prop him up."

Rose waved her hands. "I don’t think he is all that high on the peer ladder. Sometimes he forgets to act like a blueblood, and he’s almost normal. Besides, I checked him in the Encyclopedia , and it says ‘Earl Camarine’ is a courtesy title. He probably got it for his military service in the Red Legion."

Grandma’s mouth closed with a click.

"What did I say now?"

"Nothing," Grandma said. "Nothing at all. You’re right, Jack is probably safe with him. Still, don’t you think you better check on them?"

Rose glanced at the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes past noon. She was late, but the change in subject was awfully sudden. "There is something you’re not telling me."

"Dear, I could fill this room with things I’m not telling you."

Grandma had that particular glint in her eyes that said arguing was useless. Rose shook her head and went to look for Georgie. She found him curled up on the daybed, asleep.

"Leave him with me," Grandma ElEonore said. "He needs the rest. I’ll walk him back when he’s awake."

Rose sighed, hugged her, and left.

She went down the steps, crossed the lawn, and went to her truck. A challenge chaser. She never considered herself to be that way. Well, yes, she did work on her flash until it became an obsession, but that was because she had so little else to occupy her.

What she needed to do was to get home, have a long talk with Jack about not going off on wild field trips with enemies of the family, and explain to Declan . . . What the hell did she want to explain to Declan? That in the moments when he forgot about being a blueblood, she found herself drawn to him like a foolish little moth is drawn to a bug-zapping lantern?

Rose drove back to the house. Declan and Jack were still out. She dragged the groceries in and sorted them out between the freezer, fridge, and pantry. A bag of apples and a plastic container of strawberries came up missing. Probably still in the truck. She went outside.

As Rose approached the truck, broken glass crunched under her foot. Glittering shards from a busted windshield lay on the road, stretching to the left in a shiny trail. A quick glance at the truck assured her that her own windshield was intact. Rose crouched and examined the glass. Odd. Not the typical spray or sheet of glass that resulted from a crash. It looked as if someone had smashed a windshield and then carefully poured the pieces out to get her attention. She could’ve sworn it hadn’t been there when she got home.

The sparkling trail ended at an old pine. Rose frowned, looked up, and saw a license plate dangling off a branch on a cord. BOSSMAN. Emerson’s license plate. What in the world . . .

She scanned the road. At the far left a chunk of red metal lay on the side, by some bushes. She jogged to it. It was a piece of a red car hood in the precise tomato shade of Emerson’s SUV, its edges dark from the blowtorch burn.

Farther down the road, another chunk lay just before the bend. Rose strode to it, passed the curve, and saw a third red spot a hundred yards down. A trail of car crumbs, leading away from the house, toward the Broken. Very well. She jogged back to her truck and started it. She had to see where the car parts led.

Chapter 15

ELEONORE rose from the table, where a small piece of the beast floated in a jar of formaldehyde. The rest of the body had begun to decompose, and she’d had to bury it when she could no longer stand the smell.

"Talk to me," she whispered. She had tried everything. She had called on Adele Moore, Lee Stearns, and Jeremiah. They looked through their books and diaries, and cast their spells, and burned their herbs. She even made the trip down to speak to Elsie, or what was left of her. Her efforts earned her nothing. The collective wisdom of East Laporte had failed.

Whatever the beast was, wherever it came from, it was evil. On that everyone agreed.

Rumors flew about. To the north, Malachai Radish and his family were gone from their trailer, their place torn apart and left open. Malachai was never the sharpest tool in the shed and his truck was missing, so it was possible he just lost his marbles and took off with his wife and his kids without telling anyone. But ElEonore doubted it. Adele heard rumors of the dogs vanishing into the night. And Dena Vaughn found her livestock slaughtered. Something killed the small herd of pygmy goats and painted the hill where they grazed with their entrails.

They were under attack. Dread sat in her chest like a hard clump of ice. Where would it end? What did the creatures want? She had no answers. The only weapon they had was Rose and her flash.

ElEonore rubbed her face. Rose . . . If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. The child just couldn’t catch a break.

Lord Camarine bothered her. The boy was a genuine article. Flawless manners. Flawless poise. He’d picked up on the faint trace of accent in her speech when she cursed him and replied in refined, aristocratic French. Not something one could easily falsify. And power. Such great power. When she had gone to visit Elsie, she’d seen the damage to the house. The roof was completely gone and most of the wall, too. Amy said he’d done it in one burst. Expected from the one of the Red Legionnaires, of course. They were the Adrianglian weapon of last resort. She’d heard stories about them when she was a little girl. They fought like demons. Some of them weren’t even human. What in the world would an earl be doing in such a legion?

The boy looked like a born rake. He would smash Rose’s heart to pieces.

ElEonore sighed. In times like these, she wished for Cletus. Not that the old rogue would be any help. He’d grin and tell her to leave the kids alone so they could have their fun. Cletus always reasoned with his heart while she always reasoned with her brain. But still she missed him so badly.

For a while she sat, lost in thought and memories. When she finally shrugged them off, the tea in her cup had gone cold. She touched the teapot. Cold, too. Oh well.

She would have to learn more about this Declan. And if Rose wasn’t there to answer the questions, she would just have to ask Georgie.

That reminded her. She better check on the boy.