Gram's grim expression told me my own couldn't have looked good. Instead of grilling me for answers, she hustled me around the corner and toward the exit, Charlotte sniffing at me, chuffing softly, angrily as though she could smell Ameline all over me.
Which I knew for a fact she couldn't. Hadn't been able to for ages.
Pissed Charlotte off to no end, too. I knew how she felt.
We practically ran down the stairs, Gram setting a grueling pace. My vibrating thighs and aching butt were happy to alert me to the fact I was going to suffer for a few days. Sitting down would likely be impossible without serious groaning and complaining.
But I ignored the feeling, ignored everything, let Gram lead and Charlotte follow, trusted them to keep me going in the right direction while my mind churned and the core of fear and anger in my guts writhed like a living thing.