“Not just a lion.” I smirk. “He was rocking a golden mane. It was hard to tell from my window, but he looked really big, too. Not that I’ve seen many real lions. So, I don’t really have a comparison,” I ramble. Damn, I need to get out more if I’m this excited for someone to stop by.
After pouring half the liquid deliciousness in his mug and the other half in mine, I turn the handle so he can reach for his own cup. “It’s hot,” I warn him, probably uselessly since he just watched me cook it.
“Wait, you can eat and drink, right? I don’t really eat. I can, but most stuff makes me yak.”
“Yak?” he repeats slowly. I think I hear a smile in his voice.
“Yeah. Puke, vomit, throw up,” I answer, like he might be confused.
“I won’tyakin your kitchen,” he tells me, and I’m certain I can hear his smile this time.
“So, there must be more of you then, if you’re hanging out here. I mean, people are dying like every millisecond,” I conclude, bringing the mug up and taking my first sip. Yummy.
“There are others,” he answers, all cryptic and creepy like. I wonder if he’s a wrinkled-up old man under there.
“Are all of you named Grim?” I watch him as he stares down at the mug in front of him. “How will I know it’s you and not another Grim when I see you again?” I ask before he can answer.
“It would only ever be me, and I’m the only one they call Grim.” His hood lifts up like he’s now looking at me.
“The OG,” I tease.
“OG?” he questions.
I wish I could see his face. “Original gangster, or old gangster. I was just teasing.” I wave my hand. “Are you going to try it?” I motion to the cup.
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Fair enough.” I lean over the counter. “Back to my question—”
“Which one?” he interrupts me.
“About the weird shit.” I take another sip.
“What kind of weird shit?” Grim reaches for the mug, his hand covered by the robe.
“Well, let me see. It all started a few days ago. I found a bleeding guy in my bedroom.”
“That happen often?” His voice is light, like he’s teasing me.
“Not as often as you’d think,” I muse. “I’m pretty sure he wasn’t a human, but I’m not positive. Scratch that, he wasn’t human,” I amend, waving my hand and dismissing my words. “He healed way too fast to be human.”
Grim brings the mug near where his face should be. I hold my breath, waiting for him to pull back the hood.
I make a raspberry with my lips when the mug disappears into the darkness of his hood. “You’re no fun,” I accuse jokingly.
He ignores my comment. “You said it started with the bleeding guy. What else happened?”
“Oh yeah, well, I gave him a ride to a club I hunt at—Rumors. Do you know it?” I round the island and pull out the stool next to him, but leave a little space between us.
“I do,” he confirms, without giving me any other information.
“The security there was acting weird. I think it had something to do with Gunnar. He was the bleeding guy. Then the lion showed up. None of my friends have been to visit since, and then there’s you.” It’s a really quick summary, but ever since Gunnar showed up it feels like something is changing.
The hood nods. “What’s weird about me?” He sounds offended.
“You’re not weird.” I lay my hand over where I think his forearm would be. “It’s weird that you’re sitting here talking to me. I’ve asked you to stay tons of times, and you never do, so why now?” I can feel his arm shift under my hand, and he doesn’t feel like a frail old man. I pull my fingers back and tuck them into my lap.
“I wasn’t supposed to before,” he replies.
