Free One Hundred Saints by Yolanda Olson Page A

I didn’t come this far to see him, get chastised for it, and shooed home.
    Daddy was mad at me for wanting to see Grimm. Mama wouldn’t stand up for me, hell she wouldn’t even stand up for herself. Grimm seemed more interested to see me than happy, and it was really messing with my head. I figured if I followed him and saw what it was that he was up to, maybe we could find a way to connect on some level and we could do it together before I left.
    I went into the bedroom after I made a note of which direction they were headed in, and pulled on my running shoes. I wasn’t much for running, but I was very capable of sprinting long distances if I needed to.
    I took the stairs down and waved at Carrie as I walked quickly past the front desk. I wasn’t sure if she waved back or even saw me, but I knew it was the cordial thing to do. Once I was out on the sidewalk, I walked around to the side of the hotel my room was on and looked up.
    Okay, so if he was heading that way when I was up there, then that’s where I need to go.
    Taking a deep breath, I broke into a fast paced jog. It wasn’t exactly running and it wasn’t exactly sprinting, it was just a fast enough movement to allow me to catch up to Grimm and his new friends before I lost them completely.
    I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going, but I hoped that the streets would eventually intersect at some point. Something told me to go toward the Old Algiers spot that he and I loved as kids, and I could only hope he wasn’t there with them. It would taint our special place, even if it wasn’t just ours anymore.
    Come on, Grimm. Which way did you go? I wondered desperately to myself after ten minutes of blindly chasing him with no promise of catching him in sight.
    I took a left turn and decided to turn my jog into a sprint. I wanted to know if he was where my heart was telling me he might be, but once I got to our place I saw that I was wrong. He wasn’t there and he hadn’t been there recently. I knew it because I couldn’t catch his scent on the air; Grimm had a very peculiar smell to him. Almost like myrrh mixed with patchouli and it was strong enough to linger if he stayed in one place long enough.
    The only place left to go is the Lower Ninth Ward. He’ll be so angry at me for it, but I don’t care.
    It was when that decision engraved itself into my mind that I realized I had no idea how to get there. Maybe if I was lucky, Monroe, his wife, or James would be in the market, and I could ask one of them.

Fifteen
    W hen I reached the small alley that opened into the market, I slowed my pace and began to take deep breaths. It was a trick I had taught myself to reinstate my regular breathing quicker than normal, and I didn’t want to end up at my favorite pineapple stall doing some heavy breathing. I couldn’t explain it, but it would just seem rude to me.
    I took one last deep breath, and tied my hair back into a loose ponytail as I let it out. I was sure that the wind had done wondrous things to my hair and I didn’t want to scare whoever was manning the stall today by being out of breath and crazy haired.
    Once I was sure I was somewhat presentable I stepped out of the edge of the alley that seemed to always be encased in darkness, into the bustling, sunny market area.
    “Oh,” I mumbled in disappointment. Monroe’s stall was closed up, but there was someone standing near it that I didn’t know. The man was tall and bone thin; somber would be the best way to describe the look on his face.
    Our eyes locked for a moment, which prompted a nod from him. I bit my lip nervously, but I approached him anyway. I liked Monroe and something told me that the happy man that was known fondly as Market Monroe must have serious things to take care of if his stall was closed.
    “Hi,” I said softly when I reached the man. Being close to him kind of scared me. The whites of his eyes were almost completely a sickly yellow color and he was missing a couple of teeth. His