Grim Holiday (Aisling Grimlock Book 6) Read online

  Aidan snorted, his lavender eyes flashing as he looked me up and down. No one could look at us and miss the family resemblance. It was even worse when my father and three other brothers joined the fray. We resembled a science experiment gone awry … that is if science experiments had black hair, purple eyes and enough snark to choke an arena full of stand-up comedians.

  “I thought you were fonder of the Grinch,” Aidan teased, amusement licking the corners of his mouth and causing them to curve. “I definitely think that’s true for this year especially. You’ve been a real bear when talk of holiday celebrations comes up.”

  I rolled my eyes as I pressed the tip of my tongue to the back of my teeth and struggled to refrain from snapping at him. He wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t in the holiday spirit this year. I should be, but I wasn’t. I had recently moved in with my boyfriend, who went out of his way to secure the townhouse next to the one I shared previously with my best friend Jerry. That allowed Aidan to move in with Jerry, who was also his boyfriend, while Jerry and I remained close enough to keep our co-dependent streak alive. That alone gave Griffin Taylor “Boyfriend of the Century” accolades. The thought of spending our first Christmas together should be exciting. The fact that his mother was coming to town managed to blow that sentiment out of the water, leaving behind an impressive wake that threatened to tow me out to sea. That was, of course, on top of the fact that my mother – a woman we thought dead for a decade – was back and sucking the souls from people to survive. Granted, I had no proof she was doing this other than a few stray statements she let slip, but we all knew she was doing it. As reapers, we were supposed to frown on that sort of thing. But because it was Mom we were apparently looking the other way. It was dumbfounding.

  “I’m not trying to be a bear,” I offered, scratching my cheek to distract myself from the fact that Santa had wet his red velvet trousers. Now that I’d noticed the spreading stain I couldn’t look anywhere else. “I just … it’s a lot to deal with.”

  “Because Griffin’s mother is coming to town?” Aidan looked amused by my plight. This is why it’s never wise to work with family. If I had another line of work – say in a nice office setting – I could be a bear without constant complaints from siblings. “I would think you’d be excited to meet her. She’s probably a perfectly nice woman.”

  I wasn’t worried about Katherine Taylor being a nice woman. She raised Griffin and his sister Maya, the woman getting hot and heavy with my brother Cillian, and they were both wonderful individuals. Of course she was a perfectly nice woman. That didn’t mean I was a perfectly nice woman. In fact, most people who meet me think exactly the opposite.

  I considered keeping my concerns to myself, but Aidan is my twin brother – and my second best friend after Jerry – I needed someone to talk to. I could hardly tell Griffin what I was feeling, because he would laugh before telling me everything would be okay, even if it wasn’t going to be okay. Aidan, too, would probably laugh. When he was done, though, he would help me sort through the problem.

  “Yes, but what happens when she doesn’t like me?”

  Aidan stilled, his expression contemplative rather than amused. “Are you worried about that?”

  “Wouldn’t you be if you were in my position?”

  “I … .” Aidan worked his jaw, his eyes never leaving mine. Making fun of siblings is the Grimlock way, yet he seemed oddly sympathetic to my plight. That meant things must’ve been far worse than I realized.

  “Oh, geez.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and stared at the drab Michigan winter sky. “She’s going to hate me. I knew it.” I cursed under my breath and exhaled heavily. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and fall victim to a sudden illness that forces me to stay in bed for two weeks or something. That might be something to hope for.”

  This time Aidan’s smirk was fast and unbelievably irritating. “What? Do you want chicken pox or something?”

  “Don’t laugh. I’ve considered finding a children’s clinic and rubbing myself all over a poxed five-year-old in the hope that I’ll get sick for the rest of the year.”

  Aidan barked out a laugh. “Oh, Aisling, come on. You know things won’t be that bad. From what Griffin and Maya have told us, their mother is easy to get along with. You’ll be fine.”

  He said the words – and appeared to mean them – but I couldn’t rein in my doubts. “She’s going to hate me, Aidan. Mothers don’t like me. There’s a reason for that. When mothers warn their teenage sons about women to avoid, they hold up my photograph. I’m not making it up. It really happens.”

  Aidan laughed so hard he bent at the waist. I wanted to kick him, but didn’t feel it appropriate given the dead Santa at our feet. That’s when I remembered the lost soul hiding in the corner watching us.

  Chris Pringle, who apparently thought he had no choice but to play Santa during the holiday season because his last name rhymed with Kringle, stared at us as we conversed. He seemed lost, which I didn’t blame him for, but he clearly hoped we would forget his presence and go on our merry way. That’s why he remained silent despite our ridiculous conversation. That’s what I believed, anyway.

  To be fair, it wasn’t completely Chris Pringle in the corner. He was dead, after all. There was no bringing him back. He slipped outside to have a smoke and decided to take a wiz on the closest Dumpster rather than find an actual restroom. The universe paid him back with a massive heart attack that caused him to take a header into the trash receptacle and trigger a terrifying head injury. Both the heart attack and head smack were enough to kill him singularly. It seemed the holiday season wasn’t a lucky one for Chris Pringle. What remained behind, the thing cognizant of our conversation, was his ethereal soul. A normal human being passing by wouldn’t see him. As reapers, Aidan and I weren’t that lucky. There was something about his terrified demeanor that tugged at my heartstrings.

  “Are you ready to go, Chris?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and even. I didn’t want to spook him. He couldn’t run far if he decided to flee, but I wasn’t in the mood to chase a petrified soul. It was a dismal winter day – no snow yet, thankfully – but it was cold and depressing, and I wasn’t keen on spending my afternoon chasing a soul through an alley. “We can move this along just as soon as you’re ready.”

  “I’m good. Thanks.” Chris kept a stiff upper lip as he glanced between us. The wig he wore to pretend to be Santa Claus didn’t travel with him after death so he looked relatively normal – greasy brown hair and all – and I was relieved I wouldn’t have to suck a soul that resembled Santa Claus into my scepter. “You can just leave me here and go on about your day. I’m sure I’ll get up … eventually.” He cast a dubious look at his crumpled and rumpled body on the ground. “Perhaps if someone called an ambulance that might hurry things along.”

  I exchanged a weary look with Aidan and tamped down my irritation. “It’s too late for that.”

  “But … .” Souls hold on to mannerisms from their lives, so it didn’t surprise me when Chris appeared to chew his bottom lip. “I think I’ll just stay where I am. Thank you for the kind offer, though.”

  Chris Pringle was nothing if not polite. I could see why he’d been one of the most popular mall Santas in the area. Parents must’ve loved him. That didn’t change the fact that he was messing up my schedule.

  “Can’t you just suck him so we can go?” I asked Aidan, lobbing a slick smile in Chris’ direction as he jolted at my words. “Just pretend you don’t hear us. That will probably calm you down.” I was all business when I turned back to Aidan. “Seriously. I’m tired of this. It’s time to suck and run.”

  Aidan made an exaggerated face as his smile tipped into a frown. “This is your job. I’m only here because you needed a ride.”

  “My car is in the shop until this afternoon,” I said primly. “You didn’t have to drive me. I could’ve used Uber.”

  Aidan mimed smacking himself upside the head. “Yes, you mentioned that. In fact, you mentioned that in front of Dad. He
didn’t know what Uber was and when he found out it involved strange men picking you up he insisted we double up for the day. You remember that, right?”

  I averted my gaze. “Vaguely. We still could’ve hid it from Dad. You didn’t need to go out of your way for little old me.”

  “Oh, whatever.” Aidan screwed up his face in exasperation. “Dad was worried you’d get raped or mugged. Then he yelled at Griffin for allowing you to use Uber and Griffin got angry because he didn’t know you were planning on using it either. That’s how I got roped into this. Dad insisted one of us had to team with you and since I live next door … um … voila!”

  I’d like to say my family isn’t prone to dramatic outbursts – that would be one less thing to worry about once Katherine Taylor hit town, after all – but we’re all overwrought thespians in the making. My father claims he hates it (while secretly egging us on when he thinks no one is looking) and we can’t get enough of messing with one another. It’s not uncommon for at least two members of my family to not speak to one another on any given day. It was normal – even so close to the holidays – so that meant I had no intention of putting up with Aidan’s annoying attitude.

  “Then just leave me here,” I suggested, picking at a piece of imaginary lint on the front of my coat. “I can find a ride home once Chris here has calmed down enough for me to absorb his soul.”

  “Stop saying things like that,” Chris whined. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re monsters. It’s obvious why your boyfriend’s mother won’t like you. You wander around talking about sucking souls and then complain because your life is in shambles. Honey, your life isn’t in shambles. You’re still alive.”

  He had a point, still … . I pressed my finger to my lips and shook my head. “I’m talking to my brother. Don’t be rude.”

  Chris’ eyebrows flew up his ghostly forehead. “Rude? I’m dead and you’re worried about what you’re going to do with your boyfriend’s mother for Christmas. How am I the rude one?”

  “You’re dead. You don’t have to worry about these sorts of things,” I instructed. “I’m alive, so I have a lot to worry about. The only thing you have to worry about is finding some courage and letting me suck you up. Be happy. You’re going to Heaven. Um, wait … .” I broke off and glanced at Aidan. “He is going to Heaven, right? He’s not some sick pervert or something on the side, is he? I forgot to look.”

  Aidan made a disgusted face, but nodded. “He’s going to Heaven. Don’t worry about that. You should read your files before approaching a soul. That’s one of Dad’s biggest rules.”

  “Don’t be a Daddy’s boy,” I muttered, annoyed. “It was a simple question. I have a lot on my mind right now.”

  “What do you have on your mind besides Griffin’s mother?” Aidan seemed genuinely curious.

  “There’s our mother,” I reminded him.

  “What did she do?”

  “She’s eating people.”

  Aidan let loose a long-suffering sigh. “You don’t know that.”

  “She said she was.”

  “She kind of said she was,” Aidan hedged. “She didn’t come right out and say it.”

  “Well, she’s got to be munching souls to survive,” I argued. “There’s no other way around it. I would appreciate it if you didn’t make excuses when you know it’s true. Have you considered how we’re going to explain Mom and her appearance to Griffin’s mother? No? I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  “And what have you come up with?” Aidan was back to being amused, while Chris tried to make himself invisible in the corner. Both reactions were starting to get old.

  “I’m going to say that she’s a crazy woman who Dad had sex with once and now she’s stalking him,” I answered. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and that’s the best I can come up with.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait until you run that story by Dad,” Aidan teased. “He’ll be so proud.”

  “Can you think of a better story?”

  “With time.”

  “Speaking of time … .” I pasted what I hoped resembled a trustworthy smile on my face. “Are you ready to go, Chris? We’re seriously running low on time.”

  “I told you I’m good,” Chris barked. “Don’t you dare come near me. I’ll scream. I swear it.”

  “No one can hear you but us, dude,” Aidan pointed out. “It really is going to be okay. You’re going to a good place.”

  “And right before Christmas,” I enthused, perking up. “That should make you happy.”

  “I don’t see or hear you,” Chris muttered, clapping his hands over his eyes. “I’m going to wake up any second. I just know it.”

  “Yeah, let me know how that goes.” I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead to calm myself. “I’m giving you five minutes and then I’m sucking you whether you want it or not. Er, wait. That came out a lot dirtier than I intended.”

  Aidan chuckled, amused. “Your secret is safe with me. What did you get Griffin for Christmas?”

  “Oh, I’ve gotten him a few things,” I replied evasively. “I’m still looking for a big gift, though.”

  Aidan’s eyebrows flew up his forehead. “Are you serious? Christmas is right around the corner.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?”

  “Oh, geez,” Aidan complained. “You’re going to be even more of a bear until you find him a gift. Why did you wait until the last minute? Why do you always wait until the last minute?”

  “I don’t need your grief.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at Chris. “You have four minutes left. You’d better enjoy them.”

  “You’re a very mean woman,” Chris groused. “Your boyfriend’s mother is going to hate you.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” I glanced at my watch. “Speaking of gifts, do you want to do a quick run through the mall with me when we’re done with this? I need inspiration.”

  Aidan shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt.”

  “Terrible people!” Chris wailed.

  “Three minutes.”

  What? I’m not being mean. I’m being practical. This Christmas is going to bite. I just know it.

  2

  Two

  “Hey, baby. How was your day?”

  Griffin Taylor, with shoulder-length brown hair and looking rugged and sexy, greeted me with a wide smile when I let myself into the townhouse we shared shortly after six. I stopped at Grimlock Manor – the house my father and the bulk of my brothers still share in Grosse Pointe – long enough to unload my souls before heading home. I took a pass through Royal Oak’s kitschy shopping district before turning toward the townhouse, frustrated that the perfect gift for Griffin this holiday season had yet to appear.

  “Hey.” I dropped a kiss on his mouth and turned my attention to the mountain of shopping bags stacked on the floor near the far end of the couch. “What’s all that?”

  Griffin drew his eyebrows together and rested the beer bottle in his hand on the table next to his recliner. “I thought you knew.”

  “It’s not my stuff.” I moved to check out the piles of new merchandise, but Griffin stopped me with an arm around my waist and instead tumbled me into his lap. I grunted as our bodies collided, struggling as I fought to catch my breath. “What are you doing?”

  Griffin chuckled as he used the lever to extend the recliner, leaving us in a prone position where I was resting on his chest as he ran a hand through my dark hair. “Did you miss me today?”

  He seemed to be in a good mood, which was baffling. As a detective with the Detroit Police Department he saw more death and destruction than I did – at least of a violent nature, because most of my charges expired due to natural causes – yet he never seemed to suffer from the attitudinal malaise that often afflicted me.

  “I always miss you,” I replied, resting my chin on his chest and pinning him with a hard gaze. “Did you miss me?”

  “Not even a little.” Griffin grinned when I squirmed, holding me tight again
st him as I struggled to escape his iron grip. “That might’ve been a slight exaggeration,” he gritted out, fighting hard to keep me close. I grew up with four brothers so I know how to play dirty. Griffin was used to the fact that I fought like a man rather than a woman. There was no hair pulling and slapping here – unless I was going up against my childhood nemesis Angelina Davenport, of course. No, when I fought I did it to win. “Okay! I missed you.” Griffin’s face was red with exertion when he lifted his hands in a sign of defeat. “You’re feeling feisty today, huh?”

  He didn’t know the half of it. “Santa Claus died,” I informed him, rearranging myself so I could snuggle closer to him. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Santa Claus died?” Griffin lifted a dubious eyebrow. Before meeting me he didn’t believe in paranormal entities. Now he was familiar with reapers, soul-sucking wraiths, gargoyles and even a persnickety fortune teller with a bad attitude. Almost nothing surprised him … except my father when he decided to conduct bed checks during occasional overnight visits at Grimlock Manor. “Are we talking the real Santa Claus or some dude dressed as Santa Claus?”

  “What do you think?”

  “No one needs the sarcasm,” Griffin teased, poking my side and grinning as I shifted away from his hand. “If you’re a bad little girl, you won’t get anything good for Christmas. I’ll get you a lump of coal if you’re not careful.”

  His jovial attitude about Christmas gifts – something he brought up regularly – did nothing but extend my foul mood. “What did you get me?”

  “I’m not telling you that.”

  “You have to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because … .” Should I tell him I’d bought him only two small items so far and neither was worthy of consideration as a true gift? Would he want to know that I was floundering so close to Christmas? “I … .”