aisling grimlock 03 - grim discovery Page 20

  “Braden is right,” Dad said. “Aisling, I don’t know what you thought this little display would garner you, but you’re officially done here this evening.”

  My mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “I can’t look at you right now,” Dad said. “It’s too much … and I need to think.”

  “So, what … are you saying I’m kicked out of the family?”

  “Of course not,” Dad said. “I’m saying that … perhaps taking a break from the family for a few days would do us all some good.”

  His words were like a punch in the stomach. “I see.”

  “You can’t do that,” Griffin argued. “You can’t just cut her out. She’s been working on this nonstop.”

  “And now she’s done,” Dad said. “Aisling, I think it would be better for everyone if you left us to talk about this tonight. I … I’m sorry that you’re upset, but I can’t have you around here right now.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, turning away from him so he couldn’t see the threatening tears. “I’m leaving.”

  “Wait a second,” Griffin said. “You can’t just kick her out.”

  “I think we just did,” Braden said.

  Twenty-Three

  “Aisling, wait!”

  Griffin followed me out of Grimlock Manor, his sympathetic eyes searching my face as I fumbled for my keys.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll meet you back at the townhouse.”

  “Baby, we both knew that was going to get ugly,” Griffin said. “They need a night to be angry and then they’ll get over it. You can’t take this personally.”

  “How should I take it?” I asked, licking my lips as I tried to rein in my emotions. “They’re right. I betrayed them. I’m getting exactly what I deserve.”

  “Okay, let’s not go the martyr route,” Griffin suggested, reaching for my shoulders. “In a few days they’ll see that you had their best interests at heart when you decided to keep this to yourself.

  “Do you remember when you realized that there was a possibility that your mother was still alive? It threw you and you’re still adjusting to it,” he said. “They haven’t had time to adjust to it yet. Just … give them some time.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, anger bubbling up. “I’m out of the family. It’s fine.”

  “You know darned well that’s not what your father said,” Griffin countered. “He’s upset.”

  “Maybe I’m upset.”

  “He had four other children and a date in there,” Griffin pointed out. “I … I’m not saying what he did was right. I think he was at a loss for what else to do given those circumstances.”

  “Well, great! That explains everything.”

  Griffin ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he regarded me. “You’re going to be a pain all night, aren’t you?”

  “Perhaps you should cut me out of your life, too,” I suggested. “That would negate that problem.”

  “Don’t even joke about that,” Griffin snapped. “I can’t deal with you when you get like this. I don’t know what to say to you.”

  “Maybe you should give me some space tonight, too,” I suggested, deflating. “The last thing I want is to lash out at you. I’m … sorry. I just … .” My voice cracked.

  “I’m not leaving you alone tonight,” Griffin said, pulling me toward him and wrapping his arms around me. “The last thing that you need is to be alone tonight.” He swayed back and forth, almost rocking me.

  “What about what you need?”

  “Well, truth be told, I wouldn’t get any sleep away from you,” Griffin admitted, rubbing my back. “I think I might be addicted to you. It’s a little sad, really.”

  He was going for levity. I appreciated the effort. I wasn’t sure I could engage in playful banter, though. “I’m tired.”

  “I know you are,” Griffin said. “My whole body is tired, too. I think there’s a good chance Aidan and Jerry will spend the night here, so we can have your place to ourselves. How about we pick up some greasy food on the way home, get comfortable and watch whatever horrible movie you want to watch? How does that sound?”

  “I think that’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”

  Griffin pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “It really is going to be okay,” he said, his voice low. “Just give them time. I … what is that noise?”

  I lifted my head, surprised by the conversational shift. “I don’t hear anything. I … wait … .” He was right. There was something there. It almost sounded like the soft keening of a bird, or more aptly a flock of them. I shifted so I could scan the horizon.

  The setting sun caused me to narrow my eyes and it took me a moment to adjust to what I saw. It looked as if a flock of birds was moving in our direction. Instinctively, I knew they weren’t birds.

  “Run!” I pushed Griffin’s chest.

  Griffin was instantly alert. “What is it?” He followed my gaze, slitting his eyes as he tried to focus on the growing shapes as they swooped nearer. “Are those … ?”

  “Gargoyles,” I finished. “Run!”

  Griffin started moving back toward the house, his hand brushing against mine and missing when he tried to clamp onto it.

  Something whipped past my face, sharp talons lashing out and digging into my flesh as it flew by. I cried out, grabbing my cheek as I spun. When I pulled my fingers back they were covered with blood.

  Well, this was just great. Not only was I kicked out of the family, now I had a big cut on my face. Someone was definitely going to pay for this.

  Griffin made it to the front alcove before realizing I wasn’t with him. He immediately turned to come back, his eyes dark when he saw me crouched low to the ground next to his truck.

  “Go inside,” I ordered, wiping the blood from my cheek as I tried to cover my face. “You’re not safe out here.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” Griffin yelled, his eyes busy. There had to be at least ten gargoyles descending on the property, and half of them now soared through the air between us.

  “Go inside,” I repeated. “They’re after me.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” Griffin snapped. “Stop thinking I’m going to leave you here and shut your mouth for two seconds. I … .” Griffin was at a loss. He had no idea what to do. That made two of us.

  One of the gargoyles swooped low enough to catch my arm, razor-sharp talons sinking in. “Ouch!” I grabbed the beast – which wasn’t large compared to some of the others – around the neck and slammed it into the side of Griffin’s truck, stunning it. When it hit the ground, its charcoal eyes were unfocused and it scrambled under the truck to get away from me. This one really did look like a mutant dog-owl.

  I jolted when I heard a gun go off, swiveling quickly and finding a lifeless gargoyle only a foot in front of me. Inky black liquid oozed to the pavement beneath it. I glanced up and saw that Griffin had his gun drawn, his face grim as he scanned the sky.

  “Aisling, I need you to run to me,” Griffin instructed. “Don’t look around. Don’t look behind you. I’ll cover you. Run to me.”

  “I … .” I wasn’t sure I could make my legs work fast enough to do what he asked.

  “Aisling, do what I say!”

  The door behind Griffin opened and the look on my father’s face when he stepped onto the front porch was murderous. “What the … ?”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Griffin snapped. “I need her to run to me and you need to … shut the hell up!”

  If Dad was taken aback by Griffin’s tone, he didn’t show it. His eyes found mine through the descending dark. “Come on, Aisling,” he ordered. “Do what he says. Move your butt over here.”

  I sucked in a breath, tugging on my courage as I geared up to do what they asked.

  “Run!” Dad roared.

  I didn’t waste another second. I planted my hands on the cement to give myself a push and then raced toward them. Griffin fired two more shots, but I didn’t turn around to see whether he h
it anything. He caught me mid-air as I jumped, wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me through the open door.

  Dad slammed the door shut, his hands shaking as he focused on Griffin and me. “I take it those were the gargoyles you were talking about.”

  Griffin nodded, holstering his weapon and running his hands over me. “You’re okay,” he whispered.

  “What’s going on?”

  The ruckus was enough to draw everyone else in the house to the front foyer. I didn’t have the energy to focus on them, though.

  “There’s a pack of gargoyles out there,” Dad explained. “They attacked Aisling. Griffin killed at least two of them. I … .”

  “I want to go home,” I muttered.

  “Baby, we can’t leave right now,” Griffin said, employing a soothing tone. “It’s not safe.”

  “We can’t stay here.”

  “Everyone is staying here,” Dad said. “We need to put our heads together on this. It’s not safe to go outside … and it’s not as though we can call the police and report a gargoyle attack. I have no idea what will happen if someone reports Griffin’s shots. Hopefully the neighbors will think the Montgomery family is shooting skeet again.” His eyes filled with concern when he saw the wound on my arm. “Let me look at that.”

  I jerked away from him. “I’m fine.” My voice cracked, and that’s when I realized I was crying. “I don’t need your help.”

  Dad was conflicted. “Aisling, that looks bad. I … .”

  “I’ve got her,” Griffin said, grabbing me around the waist and lifting me so he could carry me toward the grand marble staircase. “We’re going to bed.”

  “Don’t you think we should talk about the gargoyles?” Dad asked, dumbfounded by Griffin’s reaction. “They attacked you, after all.”

  “She’s not crying because the gargoyles attacked,” Griffin hissed, glaring at my brothers in case they dared say one word to make things worse. “She’s had a bitch of a two weeks. You people attacked her and then essentially kicked her out of her own family. That’s on top of those … creepy things that keep showing up. She’s exhausted. I’m exhausted. Quite frankly, I can’t deal with any of you and the nonstop crap you’re bound to spout right now. All I care about is taking care of her. Do what you want about the gargoyles. We’re going to bed.”

  I WOKE in my childhood bed, my muddled mind taking a moment to focus. Griffin lightly snored next to me, his body pressed tightly against mine. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, grimacing at the digital readout. It was after midnight.

  I carefully climbed out of the bed, blindly searching through my old dresser until I found a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt to slip into. After cleaning and bandaging my arm and face, Griffin was too exhausted to worry about pajamas. It wasn’t even eight yet when we crawled under the covers. We were both so emotionally drained that we passed out within minutes.

  Now something else was calling to me.

  “Where are you going, baby?” Griffin’s voice was thick with sleep.

  “I’m really thirsty,” I said. “I’m going to sneak down to the kitchen to get a bottle of Gatorade. Do you want something?”

  “Just you,” Griffin murmured, tugging the covers higher. “Don’t be gone long.”

  The house was quiet as I padded through it. Too quiet. I couldn’t remember it ever being this quiet. There was always some noise – even if it was only the sound of the newspaper rustling in my father’s office as he read long after we were supposed to be asleep.

  I stopped at one of the front windows long enough to peer outside. Nothing moved, but for some reason I was sure multiple sets of enemy eyes were fixed on the house. By the time I hit the kitchen, I was hungry and thirsty. I hadn’t eaten since my disastrous lunch with Griffin. I rummaged through the refrigerator, debating between stealing a jar of pickles or a box of dry cereal to munch on back in my bedroom when the overhead light flickered on.

  I jumped, swiveling quickly. Dad stood in the archway watching me, his face unreadable.

  “I was just looking for something to drink,” I offered lamely. “I’ll go back to my room.”

  Dad scowled and stalked toward me. I was fairly certain this would be the time when he really did follow through with his threat to kill me. “Sit down, Aisling.”

  “I … .”

  “Don’t argue with me,” Dad ordered, grabbing the jar of pickles from my hand and shoving it back into the refrigerator.

  Perhaps he didn’t need to kill me. Maybe he was inclined to starve me to death instead.

  “Why do I always have to repeat myself ten times to you before you listen?” Dad asked. “Sit down on that stool!” He gestured so there would be no mistaking his intent.

  My sore body protested as I followed his instructions and Dad’s keen eyes washed over me as I groaned. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You keep saying that, but I’m not sure you know what that word really means,” Dad said, turning so he could dig through the containers in the refrigerator. He carried a tower of them to the counter and then pulled two plates from the overhead cupboards. “Are you hungry?”

  “I just came for the Gatorade,” I lied. My stomach picked that moment to rumble, and because the kitchen was so quiet Dad couldn’t mistake the sound for anything but what it was.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Dad said, prying the lid off the first container. He started dishing slices of roast beef onto the plates. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “We had Mexican for lunch today … or I guess it was yesterday now,” I replied. “I’m really fine.”

  “Shut up,” Dad muttered. He grabbed another container and peeled the top back. It was full of cooked carrots. I thought about reminding him that I hated cooked carrots, but now didn’t seem the appropriate time. “You don’t like cooked carrots,” Dad said, mostly talking to himself. “You like the roasted Brussels sprouts better.”

  I was amazed he remembered, especially given the circumstances. “What happened to Barbara?” I asked, the need to fill the uncomfortable silence overwhelming. “Does she think we’re all crazy?”

  “Barbara already knew you were crazy,” Dad replied, opening another container. “After all the stories I’ve told her, this probably seemed a tame evening in comparison.”

  “Did she leave?”

  “No one left,” Dad said. “It wasn’t safe. She’s in one of the guest rooms in the east wing.”

  “I take it she wasn’t in the room for romance,” I quipped.

  Dad scorched me with a look. “We’re not talking about that, young lady,” he said. “That’s none of your business. Besides, we have bigger things to talk about.”

  “Fine,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and cringing at the ache in my forearm.

  “Did Griffin clean that wound before he wrapped it?” Dad asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, at least he did something right.”

  “Don’t talk badly about Griffin,” I said, surprised at my own tone. “He’s been great. I told him to leave me out there and he refused. That should make you happy. I don’t understand why you hate him so much.”

  “I don’t hate him,” Dad corrected. “I actually like him. I’m not thrilled with the … things … I know you two are doing. I’m trying to get over it. You need to understand that I’m still your father. Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean I can forget the little girl you used to be.”

  “I thought you wanted me out of the family?” I pressed. Hey, if I was going to tick him off I might as well jump in with both feet.

  “That’s not what I said,” Dad said, his voice echoing. “You never listen to me. It drives me crazy. I didn’t ask you to leave because I wanted you out of the family, and the fact that you’re even suggesting that makes me want to strangle you.

  “I asked you to leave because I knew your brothers were going to melt down,” he continued. “I didn’t want
you to be a target when it happened.”

  “You’re angry. You can admit it.”

  “I am angry,” Dad conceded. “I’m not sure how much of that anger is directed at you, though. Believe it or not, Aisling, I know what you were trying to do. I’ve seen you suffer the past two weeks … and it’s been killing me.

  “You’re thinner than you should be,” he continued. “You’re nervous and jumpy. Griffin is the only one you’ve been talking to. We’ve all noticed it. We were going to have a family discussion with you if things didn’t change.

  “The problem is, we didn’t know what you were really grappling with,” Dad said. “We can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s going on.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” I said. “If I told everyone my suspicions about Mom being alive and they turned out to be untrue … what then?”

  “You were in a rough spot,” Dad said. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I were in your position. No matter what happens, though, you’re my daughter. You can’t get out of this family. No one will ever kick you out.”

  “I’m pretty sure my brothers see it differently.”

  “Your brothers are … morons fifty percent of the time,” Dad said, causing me to laugh despite myself. “They’re going to get over this. They need time. That’s why I wanted you out of here last night. I knew they were going to rant and rave for hours. I didn’t want them heaping abuse on you when you’ve already been dealing with so much.”

  I was surprised. “Really? You can yell at me if you want. I think I deserve it.”

  “I think the punishment you’ve been doling out to yourself is more than enough,” Dad replied, lifting the plate he was assembling for my inspection. “How does this look?”

  “I … I love you, Dad.”

  Dad’s expression softened. “I love you, too,” he said. “Your brothers will still be a pain tomorrow. You know that, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, then you’re going to need your strength to fight with them.” Dad placed the plate in the microwave. Instead of turning back to me, though, his attention landed on a spot over my left shoulder. “You don’t need to hover, Griffin. Everything is fine.”