Chapter 9
By the time Tru had come to the McDonald's at the edge of town to pick Grace up, it was almost one in the morning. They drove back to the motel in silence and Grace leaned her head on the glass, looking out into the dark forest as the trees flew by.
"That was some good work," Tru finally commented as they pulled into the parking spot outside of their room.
Grace got out and stood next to the Chevelle silently and folded her arms across her chest, hiding the cleavage that poured from her skin-tight tank top. Her expression was blank as she stared at her father from over the roof of the car.
Tru licked his lips and shrugged. "I pulled four-sixty off the pool table. How much did you get?"
Reaching into her bra, Grace tugged out the roll of cash and tossed it towards her father. He caught it, midair, and still without a word, she turned back to the door of the motel and let herself in.
Serra was still awake and smiled, rolling towards Grace when she walked across the carpet. "How'd it go?" she asked, watching her big sister rifle through her duffle bag and pull out a pair of sweats and a Metallica shirt.
Grace stared at Serra and remained silent, breathing slowly through her nose. She wrenched off her cowboy boots and left them standing next to Serra's bed and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
When Tru walked in, he closed the door behind him and set the newly aquired cash, his keys, and his wallet on the table next to his bed. He smiled sadly at Serra and collapsed on the bed behind him, staring at the ceiling.
"Did it go bad?" Serra asked, turning towards Tru.
Truman sighed heavily as he heard Grace turn on the water for a shower. "No, Lucky," he answered, rubbing his face. "It went well. It went almost too well."
"Then what is her problem?" Serra asked, genuinely confused as she gestured towards the bathroom door. "She didn't even answer me."
Sitting up slowly, Tru closed his eyes. "You'll understand a bit more when you're older, kiddo. Right now, Grace just needs to be alone and deal with being who she is." He rubbed his face again and spoke from behind his hands. "Your sister is a very talented creature and I'm not really sure how we would do any of this without her abilities."
Serra licked her lips and nodded. "So I should lay off?"
"A bit, yeah," Tru agreed. "But not so much to make her suspicious."
Giggling, Serra nodded. "Deal."
…
Grace was still moody the next morning, tugging on a new, nicely-fitting tank top, her normal jeans, and boots. As she bent to lace them up, Serra stirred, turning over to stare at her sister. "Morning, Big," she greeted sleepily.
"Hey, Little," Grace answered, trying to keep the smile out of her voice.
Serra pushed the covers off of her legs and sat up, rubbing her face. "Are we going to meet up with Paul today?"
Grace nodded, still not turning towards her. "Yeah, a little later," she answered. "You and Dad are going to the Ranger Station and feel things out. I'm going to see Paul and find out whatever he knows about the wraiths already."
Dangling her bare feet off the edge of the bed, Serra sat quietly next to Grace. Finally, she turned to face her little sister and lifted her eyebrows, questioning. "Why are you so quiet? It's making me nervous."
Serra grinned. "I like to keep you on your toes. Never know what I'm gonna do."
"I always know what you're gonna do," Grace replied. "For example," she continued, standing up from the bed to pull on a jacket. "Right now, you're searching for a way to ask what I do during a con."
Narrowing her hazel eyes, Serra tried to think of a way to argue with her sister. "No," was all she could think to say. Grace smiled and shook her head. To Grace's smile, Serra asked, "What?"
"I'm going to force you to hold onto your innocence as long as humanly possible. You may have won the fight about having a gun—"
"Guns."
"Guns," Grace repeated, rolling her eyes, "but you'll lose the war. I'm keeping you eleven. You don't get to be older than that."
The water shut off in the bathroom as Tru wrapped up his morning shower. The girls could hear him humming to himself from behind the closed door as he toweled off and got dressed. When the door opened, he was still drying his hair, but he was fully dressed with bare feet. He grinned at his daughters and walked across the room, tossing a package of chocolate frosted donuts at Serendipity.
"Morning, Luck," he said, smiling.
Beaming, Serra opened the package of donuts and held one out to her sister. Grace half-smiled and took it, taking a deep breath before taking a bite. It was delicious and Grace couldn't help closing her eyes to enjoy it.
"When's the last time you ate?" Serra asked, watching her sister eat the small donut.
Grace shrugged as she shoved the rest of it into her mouth. "I don't know," she mumbled over the crumbs. "Sometime yesterday."
The truth was Grace Browning hadn't eaten in two days or so, knowing how short they were on cash. She had made it through the last twenty-four hours on apple juice and water from the bar, understanding that it was a means to an end.
Serra handed her another donut and Grace smiled, taking it, and turned to dig through her duffle. "My turn for a shower," she said. Grace and Tru nodded. "Then I want to load my guns."
Sighing, Grace glanced at Tru, pressing her lips together as she held in the myriad of thoughts that sailed through her mind. This was not the time or the place to start another fight about the weapons. What was done was done.
As soon as the sound of the old pipes began pumping water from behind the closed bathroom door and they heard the curtain pull closed in the bathroom, Tru turned to Grace and asked, "Why haven't you eaten?"
Grace clicked her tongue. "She needs to eat more often than me," she answered, avoiding her father's gaze. "There's no reason that I need to waste food."
Truman shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed, "Eating because you're starving is not wasting food. Em's gonna call Social Services on me, she hears about that."
Shrugging, Grace turned away from her father and dumped her remaining ammunition on the bed. Changing subject completely, she commented, "I'm out of silver."
"I bought a couple of boxes from Billy," Tru answered. "Take a box for The Judge and give your sister a clip."
Turning slowly, Grace put her hands on her hips and stared at him. "You're giving Serra silver? Does that mean you're gonna let her hunt the wraith?"
"I think it's time we hunt her."
"She is eleven-fucking-years-old, Dad."
Tru nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "You keep reminding me."
"If she gets killed out there," Grace whispered, "that's on you." With that, Grace picked up a box of silver rounds for her own pearl-handled Colt forty-five and strode out of the room, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pocketing her phone.
Tru sighed heavily as he closed his eyes and listened to the door slam behind her. He knew she would have to blow off some steam and then, eventually, she would come back to him.
