aisling grimlock 03 - grim discovery Read online

  I kept my feet pressed against the door. I’d played enough games with my brothers to know when someone was faking retreat right before doubling their offensive.

  Fred threw his weight against the weak wood and my legs protested the sudden shift. The door held – but just barely.

  “Dammit!” I could hear Fred shuffling in the hallway. It sounded as if he was walking away, but I couldn’t be sure.

  “Nancy, can you poke your head through that door and tell me if he left?” I asked.

  Nancy looked surprised by the suggestion. “Can I do that?”

  “Yes.”

  Nancy nervously did as instructed, slipping only her head through the solid door before straightening again. “He’s heading down the hallway. I think he really is getting his ax.”

  I pulled my legs down and rolled to my knees. “We don’t have a lot of time,” I said, groaning as I got to my feet. “Are you ready to go?”

  Nancy bit her lip. “I’m … scared.”

  “Don’t be,” I said. “I promise you’re going to a better place. I need to get to a better place, too. I can’t stay here any longer and I can’t leave without you.”

  Nancy straightened her diminutive shoulders. “I’m ready.”

  I pulled the scepter from my pocket, flashed her a reassuring smile, and then absorbed her essence before pocketing the scepter again.

  I knew going through the house was a mistake. That left the bedroom window, which looked as if it had been painted over so many times it would never open. I grabbed a discarded T-shirt from the bed to make sure I wouldn’t leave fingerprints and put it over my hands, shoving the window as hard as I could. I was surprised when it slid open. Unfortunately, after shoving it twice more, I realized it wouldn’t open all the way. I unhooked the screen and pushed it out, hunkering down so I could study the narrow opening. It would be a tight fit.

  “I’m coming, girlie! I’m coming and I’m going to rip you to pieces!”

  Fred was on his way back. I was out of options. I slipped my head through the opening, carefully trying to avoid the bent nail jutting from one of the side panels. I was halfway out and only had to navigate my hips through before falling to the ground when the bedroom door crashed open.

  “Honey, I’m home!”

  Well, that was downright eerie. I wriggled my hips, ignoring the scream of protest in my upper thigh as the nail dug into the soft flesh. I could hear Fred staggering toward me, shoving something out of his way – I think it was the nightstand – as he tried to get a grip on my leg. I lashed out, my foot making contact with his face before I tumbled the rest of the way through the window.

  “Oomph.” I landed on my right side. Hard. Sharp pain coursed through my side and when I shifted I realized I’d landed on a brick that used to be part of the ramshackle home’s fading façade. “Well, great.”

  Fred yanked on the window to widen the opening. I think he planned to chase me through it. There was no way he could fit through the opening.

  “You can’t get your fat head through there,” I taunted.

  “Oh, I’ll get through here,” Fred said, huffing. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to … son of a … .” Fred howled as he fruitlessly yanked on the window. It wouldn’t budge.

  I cocked my head at the sound of approaching sirens.

  “They’re coming for you, Fred,” I said, smiling evilly. “They know what you did.”

  “I’m not scared of them.”

  “I hope they put you in a cell with a really big rapist,” I shot back.

  Fred narrowed his red-rimmed eyes. “I’m going to kill you.” He shoved his head and arms through the window and reached for me. I took a step back, my right hip screaming in protest as I evaded his outstretched hands. “Come here, girlie!”

  “I hope they give you a full cavity search when they arrest you, too,” I said, limping through the overgrown bushes. I had to get out of here before someone saw me. Luckily, I’d parked on a nearby street and not in front of the house. I’d been thinking on at least one front today.

  “I’m going to kill you!”

  I risked a glance over my shoulder. Fred was trying to pull his head and arms back through the window, but the nail had snagged his shirt and he couldn’t move. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Have fun in prison, jackoff!” I didn’t turn around again, instead limping through the dense underbrush of the neighboring yards. I didn’t stop until I got to my car.

  Whew. Day one was in the books. Now, how much of that should I put in my report?

  Eleven

  I was a mess when I got to Monroe two hours later. I didn’t have time to run home and grab a change of clothes – and the possibility of running into Jerry or Aidan and having to explain what happened was too big to risk – so I was stuck meeting Fox Grimpond looking a disheveled mess.

  I could only hope he wouldn’t tell my father about this – for more reasons than one.

  When I called to schedule the meeting before leaving my bedroom this morning, Grimpond’s secretary initially tried to blow me off. After explaining that I was an old family friend – which wasn’t exactly a lie – the woman put me through.

  I didn’t know Fox well. He was roughly the same age as my father, and his two children were about the same ages as Redmond and Braden. Every year the Michigan reapers host a get-together – kind of a family reunion for those who suck souls for a living. When I was a kid, I always thought those weekend extravaganzas sucked by design. I didn’t have fond memories of them.

  The Grimlocks are competitive by nature. Dropping us in the middle of tugs-of-war, touch football games and hot dog-eating contests was a dumb idea. Because Dad wanted to win as much as we did, he encouraged us to be at our obnoxious best.

  I hoped Fox would look past my little loser song and dance – yes, I did it back then, too – and see me as an adult. I wasn’t sure my ripped pants and limp made a sound case.

  Fox stood when he saw me approaching, extending a hand and looking me up and down. “Aisling, right?”

  I smiled. “Mr. Grimpond, I … thank you for meeting with me.”

  “Call me Fox.” I sat in the chair he pulled out for me, fighting not to grimace. “Are you okay?”

  Of course he had to comment on my appearance. I couldn’t blame him. “I’m fine,” I replied. “I just had a … rough … job this morning.”

  “I see,” Fox said, his eyes twinkling. “You Grimlocks always did like the rough stuff.”

  It appeared he remembered my childhood antics. This wasn’t a great start. “We’re competitive,” I agreed. There was no sense in denying it. “We learned it from Dad.”

  Fox chuckled, smoothing down his shirt as he sat. “I’m sorry for staring, but you have grown up to be quite … beautiful.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. That was either really nice … or really creepy. “Thank you.”

  “You and your brothers all looked eerily alike when you were children,” he said. “Do you still resemble each other? I must confess … after your call this morning I tried to remember the last time I saw you. It has to be about ten years or so. Your family stopped coming to the yearly retreats.”

  “Most people think my family looks like a science experiment gone awry,” I said, reaching for my glass of water. My mouth was unnaturally dry. I had no idea how to broach the subject of my mother’s reaping. I hoped he would give me an opening. “We all still look alike.”

  “And how is your father?” Fox asked. “I see him at mandatory meetings sometimes, but he’s not quite the … gregarious presence … he once was.”

  And there was my opening. “He’s still pretty gregarious,” I said. “He’s just … more closed off since my mother’s death.”

  “Yes, well, that was terrible,” Fox said. “I don’t know how your father managed to cope after that. Not only did he have to take on the business by himself, he also had you children – five of you, for crying out loud – to take care for. Not that I
would ever cast aspersions on you or your brothers, but you had a reputation for rambunctiousness.”

  “That reputation was well earned,” I said. “We’re still kind of rambunctious when the mood strikes.”

  “I heard you joined the family business a few months ago,” Fox said, leaning back in his chair. “I was surprised. After the way your mother died I would think that your father wouldn’t want you to join the business.”

  “I think that’s probably true,” I conceded. “If he had his druthers I would be at a boring job, but … you don’t always get what you want.”

  “No. You definitely don’t get everything you want,” Fox agreed.

  The waitress picked that moment to take our orders, and after placing them Fox turned to me with an expectant look. “Not that I’m not happy to shoot the breeze, Aisling, but I have to wonder why you called for this meeting. What’s on your mind?”

  I’d thought this part out. It would make me sound like a weak female, but that was better than the alternative. I tugged on my resolve and launched into what I hoped was a passable lie. “My boyfriend and I were talking the other night and my mother came up,” I explained. “He said I never talked about her – which I guess is true – and he wanted to know about her death.”

  “Is your boyfriend a reaper?”

  Fox was playing a game. I recognized it for what it was. I could only hope I was more prepared than he was. “No. He’s a police detective in Detroit. He doesn’t know what we do for a living.”

  It’s against the rules to tell humans about reapers unless they catch you in the act. Technically, we didn’t break any rules when we brought Griffin into the fold because he witnessed me taking out a wraith. I wasn’t going to tell Fox that, though. I didn’t want him to have any ammunition to use against my father. Workplace politics exist no matter what field you’re in. My dad is the “big dog” in the Michigan reaper world. Fox wants the title. I’m not stupid … no matter what my family says when they’re angry with me.

  “I see,” Fox said, steepling his fingers in front of him. “I guess I don’t understand the question.”

  “Well, when he asked about my mother all I could tell him was that she died in a fire,” I said. “He didn’t ask a lot of questions after that. I think he could tell it was hard on me. It’s just … I don’t know anything else. I don’t want to tell him about her death. I would like to know a little about it for myself, though.”

  “I was under the impression that your family was informed of how your mother died,” Fox said. “She was gathering a soul and the roof collapsed. It was very tragic.”

  He was a little too pithy for my taste. “I understand that part,” I said, fighting the urge to yank a huge hunk of his slicked-back hair out of his head. “I’m more confused about whether she was a late addition to your list or whether she was there all day.”

  Fox balked. “I … you know we’re not supposed to talk about this, right?”

  I shrugged. “She’s been gone a long time,” I said, hoping to sound earnest. “When she died, we weren’t really allowed to ask questions about it. My father was a wreck. My brothers are … boys. They didn’t deal with it the same way a woman would.

  “Instead of talking about what happened … well … they all went and played basketball and kind of ignored me,” I continued, batting my violet eyes for emphasis. “I was the only woman left in the house and I was also the youngest child. Nobody really talked to me, and they still don’t want to dwell on it. I thought you might be able to tell me a little more because you were there and you’re not afraid of upsetting me because we’re not related.”

  That sounded plausible, right? No one who actually knows me would believe it. Fox only had an idea of me, though.

  Fox clucked sympathetically. “I never really looked at it from your point of view,” he admitted. “I knew your family was close and even though your father was struggling to keep it together … well … I figured he’d pull out of his depression one day.”

  I tamped down the urge to shake Fox and tell him my father never struggled with anything, wisely keeping my temper in check. “We all struggled,” I said. “You’d think people who deal with death on a regular basis would be better prepared to lose one of our own. We weren’t ready.”

  “No one is ever ready to lose someone they love,” Fox said. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not the one who reaped your mother.”

  My heart sank. “You’re not? I would’ve thought … once you saw who it was … I … .” Crap on toast.

  “I had an important teleconference that night,” Fox said. “Your father was on it, too. I had to send Everett to reap your mother.”

  Everett Grimpond was something of a snake, if I remembered correctly. It’s difficult to say a teenager is oily, but I always felt greasy when the little toad was around. Even though he was several years older than me – and I was underage – he often tried to look down my shirt. That lasted until Redmond got a hold of him, ran his pants up a flagpole and made Everett finish the rest of one very memorable reaper reunion in his underwear. Everett wasn’t going to be helpful.

  “Did Everett ever tell you anything about my mother’s crossover?”

  Fox rubbed his cheek, giving the appearance of searching his memory. For some reason, it gave me the impression that everything he did was for show. Of course, there was no way to know for certain.

  “Everett said your mother seemed surprised at what happened but very resigned about what was to come,” Fox replied. “She wasn’t happy about leaving all of you, but she knew there was no option. She thanked Everett for collecting her soul and … that was it.”

  He was a filthy liar. I was absolutely sure of it now. “Where did she go?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Where did she go?” I pressed. “Did she go to Heaven? I don’t remember her expressing Christian beliefs and Dad never talks about it. Did she go to limbo?” Where you go in death – even reapers – depends on what you believe in life. I didn’t know what I believed let alone where my mother placed her faith. That was an odd realization.

  “I’m … not sure.” Fox looked uncomfortable with the question.

  I decided to change tactics. I was sure Fox was lying. He obviously wouldn’t break from the lie now. I had to throw him off his game. “What do you think about all the wraiths that have been hanging around the past few months?”

  Fox visibly blanched. “I … what … um … what are you talking about?” Fox tried to collect himself as I studied him.

  “The area is crawling with wraiths,” I replied, nonplussed. “They’ve been all over the place. Duke Fontaine was working with them. He died in a mausoleum fire almost two weeks ago. You must have heard about that. I saw the memo Dad sent out.”

  “I do remember reading something about it.” Fox’s chair creaked as he shifted.

  “Have you seen an increase of wraiths down here?”

  “No.”

  “Huh. I wonder why they’re only hanging around Detroit.”

  “I have no idea,” Fox said. “I … what do the wraiths have to do with your mother?”

  He was testing me. “Nothing. I just … I decided I was being unfair asking you about my mother. I just wanted to erase the nightmares. I’ve always been afraid that she was awake when she burned. You can’t answer those questions for me. I didn’t know what else to talk about. I babble when I’m nervous. So … .”

  Fox smiled, although the expression didn’t make it all the way up to his eyes. He knew I was lying. I was fine with that. I knew he was lying, too. We were in different boats on the same small lake. “Well, sadly I can’t help you on either front. I think your trip was for nothing.”

  “Oh, no,” I shot back, smiling widely. “I got everything I was looking for.”

  Twelve

  I hoped to beat everyone home so I could hide my clothes and take two painkillers for my hip without admitting what happened at the Travers house. I thought I’d accomplished j
ust that when I walked into the townhouse and found it empty. I was in full pathetic-limp mode when I hobbled into my bedroom, whining to myself with each step.

  “What happened to you?”

  I cringed at Griffin’s voice. He stood in the doorway that separated my private bathroom and bedroom when I turned. “Hi!” I forced a bright smile and opened my arms to beckon him for a hug. “I missed you all day.”

  “Yeah, I’m not falling for that,” Griffin snapped, wiping his hands on the towel he clutched and then tossing it on the counter. “Why are you limping?”

  “Um … .”

  Griffin narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even think about lying to me.”

  “Don’t you want to give me a hug?” I was desperate to avoid an argument.

  “No.”

  Apparently Griffin was keen on having one. “Fine,” I snapped, carefully lowering myself to the bed. “Shut the door in case Jerry and Aidan show up. I have more to tell you than how this happened.”

  “Oh, well, I can’t wait.”

  Griffin strode to the door, slamming it shut and then pressing the button to lock it before turning back to me. “Spill.”

  “What do you want to hear about first?” I asked, grimacing as I shifted. “Do you want to hear about my lunch with Fox Grimpond, who is a big, fat liar, or do you want to hear the really minor story of how I injured myself? Either way, I need to get these pants off, and I think I need your help. I haven’t been able to look at this yet and I’m afraid it’s going to be gross.”

  Griffin tilted his head to the side, his eyes flashing. “You’re going to tell me about lunch while I help you take your pants off and treat whatever wound that is. Then I have a feeling we’re going to have a huge fight.”

  I had the same feeling. “Great.” I reclined on the bed and unbuttoned my pants. “I’m going to lift my butt and I need you to pull these off. For the love of all that’s holy, do not touch my hip.”

  “This is like a dirty game without any promise of a payoff,” Griffin grumbled, climbing onto the mattress next to me. “Lay flat on your back.”