'Ink It Over by Rachel Rawlings

Author:Rachel Rawlings [Rawlings, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Magic, urban fantasy, magic and mayhem, paranormal romance, Witches
Publisher: Rachel Rawlings
Published: 2019-01-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“DAMN, THAT STINGS.” Lars burst through the door to the workshop after tripping the last of Nicholas’s magical alarms, brushing his hands along his arms and legs like he’d been swarmed by a colony of fire ants.

I rushed him and wrapped my arms around him without a care for any residual magic. “What took you so long?”

He untangled himself from my embrace, nodding a greeting at Nicholas, and fished a crumpled paper out of the front pocket of his jeans. “This.”

I snatched it out of his hand and used the edge of the coffee table to smooth out the wrinkled surface. I froze when a familiar face took shape. “Aldridge.” I looked up at Lars. His expression, cold and angry, warmed when he saw what must have looked like fear in my eyes. Because it was. “So soon? I thought we’d have more time.”

Nicholas took the paper, examining the reward poster for himself.

“I tried to tell you...” Lars stopped short of ‘I told you so.’ There was more he wanted to say, about actions and consequences—I’d heard the lecture before, probably a dozen times since Grim’s death—but he held back. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Getting you out of Providence is all that matters.”

“Savannah?” I tried not to sound disappointed. “For how long? Wait—you said ‘you.’ Meaning me and not us?”

“Savannah is out of the question. We’re way past pretending like there’s nothing to see here. They know, Adeline. They know who and what you are.” Lars reached inside the tattered leather jacket he’d worn for as long as I’d known him and pulled out a large envelope with a familiar scrawl across the front.

Adeline.

Nicholas moved closer, his breath a warm contrast to the chill running across my skin. Normally I’d throw a playful jab, verbal or literal, to warn someone off for crowding my space, but seeing Grim’s handwriting shook me to my core.

I traced the seal, Grim’s insignia pressed into the blood red wax, before breaking it and opening the envelope containing the letter Grim had only wanted me to see in case of an emergency. His contingency plan. Something else fell out of the envelope, catching my eye as it fluttered to the floor.

A Polaroid of some grungy street kid with matted hair and tattered clothes.

It was a picture of me, from the night Grim saved me if my appearance was any indication. Most of my time was spent hustling pedestrians for change or dumpster diving behind the Pork Pit were Grim found me, but nights on the street were dangerous with no place to hide from the predators. I was weak and running from my foster parents, but I wasn’t dead. I remembered the marks they used on me, and I honed them on anyone who tried to hurt me. Grim was one hash mark away from lying prone with his pockets turned out behind the dumpster before I realized he wanted to help me.

I’d followed him out of that alley and never looked back.

Hands shaking, I read the letter.

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