GRIMSBY LOOKED ABOUT UNCERTAINLY AS THE BUS hissed to a halt.  He double-checked the partially burnt-out sign at the front, but sure enough it read EMERALD HOLLOW, the neighborhood of Mayflower's address - at least according to the Department.

But surely this couldn't be where the Huntsman lived.  It was so... suburban.

He made his way to the front, nodding thanks to the driver as he passed.  She only rolled her eyes in reply.  The doors nearly caught his suit jacket as they closed behind him, and the bus groaned and trundled down the road, flanked by lines of identical two-story houses with genuine white picket fences.

Grimsby pulled out the scribbled card in his pocket.  On one side, it held the Huntsman's phone number, which he'd given to Grimsby after they were both nearly killed by a demoness.  On the other side was an address, though this Grimsby had taken from the Department records.

Yet, when he pictured the place, he had expected some half-abandoned brick warehouse, or maybe a lodge in the woods.  Perhaps even a fortress with panning spotlights and blaring sirens.

He never would have guessed he would find trimmed lawns, shaped hedges, and the distant laughing screeches of children.

He shook his head again.  It didn't matter.  He wasn't here to see how Mayflower's homelife was.

He was here to tell the Huntsman off.

He felt his stomach twist into a little ball of nervous anger, and a chill shiver of fear wrapped around his spine like frozen tinfoil.  The Huntsman was without a doubt the deadliest man Grimsby knew, and though he would have liked nothing more than to wait for the bus to come back around and go home, that wouldn't fix his problem.  Without Mayflower, he couldn't get a case from Grieves.

At least, not legitimately.

He still held the manila folder in his tight grip, too afraid to leave it anywhere for fear that someone would discover what he'd done.  Taking the file was a stupid mistake, and he had regretted it almost immediately.  Yet how could he return it without Grieves discovering his insubordination?

He folded the problem up in his mind and tucked it away.  He had other issues to deal with.

Issues with a temper and a lifelong history of killing Unorthodox with a really, really big gun.

Grimsby took a deep breath and steadied his heart as best he could.  He had to confront the Huntsman face-to-face.

But first, he needed to find his lair.

Grimsby looked around, realizing that the only real difference between the homes was what shade of neutral they were.  Then, after some walking, he saw one on the opposite side of the street that stood out from the others.