Detective Grimm Novels & Stories

“The tourist is under his protection—and the gumshoe{Detective} is Breanna...Breanna Stewart” “Is she the same Breanna?”. Lucas asked coldly, and Grinch affirmed with a nod. “Wait for my orders”, Lucas' monotone reverberated back to the phone before he hung up. The tension in the room dropped after the call. Everyone waited for Lucas to complete Grinch's execution but he didn't. “Why didn't you inform me about the Gumshoe {Detective} earlier ?”. Lucas muttered, holding the phone out to Grinch. “I—I was gonna tell you when I arrived, but you have the gat{gun} on my throat the whole time”.

{DETECTIVE GRANT’S POV} “Detective Grant! There are reports that Sergei was killed by a wild animal. Is that true?” New York Homicide detective Grace O’Reilly opened the doors to Carnegie Hall and knew right away that it was going to be bad. Reporters were 10 deep, and unusually aggressive. “Detective!” They screamed for her repeatedly as she entered, the room filling with flashes. At 40, muscular and hardened, with short black hair and matching eyes, Grace was tough, and used to pushing her way through.

Gray pushes open the door to see the receptionist. She takes in their appearance and then smiles. They are not dressed in their uniform, just in regular detective clothes. A leather jacket, black round necks and jean trousers alongside with tracks just Incase they encounter a situation they need to run in, and just as unusual as it sounds, it's not rare. "Good afternoon gentlemen. How can I help you?" Gray doesn't waste any time in flashing his ID Badge to her. "Detective Gray, Brooklyn District Police department. I am wondering if any woman named Lily Woods came here this morning?"

"Wait..the Blacksmiths? As in...the Blac..." "Yes, Detective Miller! The Blacksmiths. Either he was working with them or he found a way to make them work for him...I really don't quite understand myself." I said to him. Obviously disturbed and overwhelmed by the information I'd just given him, the Detective pinched the bridge of his nose in clear frustration. My eyes widened, as they caught the sight of a red, glowing dot, suddenly appearing on his forehead; a sniper. "Shit!" I swore out loud, instinctively shoving the detective to the ground to save his life. He looked to be stunned for a few seconds, until bullets started randomly flying through the air. His eyes widened in realization.

Water does not put it out but enhances it more, yet someone had put it in the middle of his arsenal. Grimshaw knew from the beginning that this was no ordinary plot, so he decided to arrest him, who had lit it up in secret. Perhaps his son might be so foolish to feel he could blind his senses, but he could recall seeing the same young man some time ago in his chambers while he was feasting drunkenly, which might explain his inability to remember. Also, even more than that, he caught the same scent of the gentleman wolf all over Zyair. All he needed to do was pull the right strings, and the ball would get running. He just needed to do what had to be done.

He rises quickly and offers Gray his hand. “Detective Ray Harrison,” he says. “I answered the 911 call last night.” Gray leans in and gives his hand a brief, powerful shake. “Thanks for taking care of things,” says Gray, his voice flat and cool. My husband pins the detective with a hard, unyielding gaze, and Harrison seems to shrink back a bit. I notice that he looks past Gray, as if interested in something on the wall. We all stand in an awkward silence for a second, in which Gray crosses his arms and offers neither question nor statement, just a scowl of assessment directed at Harrison.

I stumble in shock and fall to the ground. Grimm continues his hand movements, and another wolf is attacked. This time, a smaller flock breaks off, rushing the two wolves behind us. They don’t do much damage, but they distract them long enough. I close my eyes and cover myself, bracing for the ravens to attack me next, but it never comes. Opening my eyes, I see Grimm deeply concentrating. The third wolf falls, and Grimm turns to another, when suddenly he drops to his knees as an axe whirls out of the darkness and buries itself in his back.

She was Bailey’s closest friend, a Grimfang scout, and apparently the person most likely to tell Colton when he was being “an overbearing pine tree with fangs.” Colton did not deny it. James secured the silver evidence inside a metal tin Grace insisted I keep under the sink “until someone with a better basement” could take it away. Bailey reheated cinnamon rolls and made tea with so much sugar in mine that I suspected she had chosen emotional shock as a medical diagnosis. Grace gave me half answers while avoiding the largest ones with a skill that made me want to shake her. Yes, she had known the Grimfang pack for decades. No, she had never been part of the pack.

They were competent and courteous and terrifying in that combination. Detective Moreno took our statements like someone cataloguing a crime scene in paragraphs. His eyes were the faint gray of weathered stone; he didn’t look surprised by anything, which is what makes the presence of a human being never simple to read. “Graham was found early this morning in a service lane behind the boutique hotel,” he said, voice neutral. “Cause of death confirmed as blunt force trauma to the head. There are signs of a struggle. Forensics recovered partial prints and a cigarette butt with DNA that’s being processed.” “Someone killed him,” I said, blank and stunned by the simplicity of the sentence.

Out of anyone, he shouldn’t have let this happen because he knows what it is. What it means. What we would have been without them. “Where the fuck is she?” I cock the hammer, knowing that in broad daylight with a few dozen witnesses, no one on the southern line is going to say or do shit when I splatter his brains across the sidewalk. I won’t even try to dissect how the fuck Grimm turned her smartwatch into a listening device, but I will be writing him a blank check for it. Not only does it give me Georgie’s location via her watch, but the full confession that clicks the hammer back in place. Stooping down to the man, stuffing his mouth with the desert eagle.