Grim & Bear It: A Grimlock Family Short Read online

  I blew out a sigh, resigned. “Yeah. Nothing good.”

  “It’s your job to get this one,” Margaret pressed. “Don’t let him slip through your fingers. The paperwork that goes along with things like that is not pretty, and it won’t reflect well on you seeing as you just got off probation.”

  I dragged a frustrated hand through my dark hair. “I get it.”

  “Great.” Margaret sounded unnaturally bright. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Oh, and good luck.”

  I was definitely going to need it.

  3

  Three

  Jerry arrived just in time to join us, his overprotective mother sending him off with a huge kiss. I wasn’t sure if she realized our parents were gone for most of the evening, but Jerry carried an overnight bag, so I knew that arguing about an additional body to watch was probably a mistake. I didn’t have time to explain things to Mrs. Collins, which meant Jerry was coming along for the ride.

  The only vehicle large enough to fit six bodies comfortably was my mother’s minivan, which I was loath to drive. If it had been five of us we could’ve taken something flashier from my father’s fleet. Given the neighborhood we were visiting, though, it was probably best that we fly under the radar.

  “Load up,” I ordered as I pocketed a scepter and shrugged into a hoodie. “We have to get going.”

  “I don’t understand why we can’t stay here,” Aisling complained, making a face as she kicked Jerry’s bag out of the way and grabbed a pair of shoes from the rug in the foyer. “If it won’t take long, why can’t we just stay here while you’re gone?”

  In truth, I’d considered doing just that. The smart thing to do would’ve been to call my father and explain the situation. He wouldn’t have been happy about cutting his evening short, but he would’ve done it. But I was trying to prove I was responsible on and off the job, so I decided to go another route.

  Besides, Grimlocks aren’t exactly known for being the smart ones in reaper circles. We are more the impulsive “jump first, look later” sorts.

  “Because I can’t trust you guys to behave while I’m gone,” I replied. “You’ll tear apart the house … or each other … and leave me with a mess to clean up. At least this way I’ll be able to keep you out of trouble.”

  “Yeah, but are you supposed to be taking us on a job?” Aidan asked, a worried look on his face. He was the lone member of the Grimlock tribe who I often thought would end up with an ulcer before he was thirty. He often seemed to have a lot on his mind, and I was starting to get a feeling what troubled him – and was unsure how Dad would react. “I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad wouldn’t be happy knowing you’re taking us along to absorb a soul.”

  “I think it sounds fun,” Jerry countered, happily shifting from one foot to the other as he stood between Aisling and Aidan. He was dressed in bright pastel pants, a black shirt and a coat that looked as if it had come directly from my father’s closet. My mother called him a “dandy,” although I wasn’t sure what that meant. She seemed amused when she said it, though, so I didn’t think she meant it in a derogatory manner.

  “It won’t be fun.” I utilized my best “I’m in charge and you have no choice but to listen to me whether you want to or not” voice. “We’re heading to Detroit and you guys are going to sit quietly in the van while I collect a soul. It’ll take less than five minutes and then we’ll be back in the van and heading home.”

  “That sounds really boring,” Braden drawled. “Why can’t we stay here while you’re doing that?”

  “Because I can’t trust you not to kick Aisling across the game room.”

  “Yeah.” Aisling sneered before realizing she’d actually agreed with me. “Wait … what if we promise to be good?”

  “I’ve seen your work,” I replied dryly. “You’re incapable of being good. It doesn’t matter what you want. I’m in charge and you have to follow orders. If you don’t, you’re going to be in big trouble and you know it. If you think you’re going to be Dad’s favorite after something like that, you’re kidding yourself.”

  Aisling tilted her head to the side, considering. “Fine.” Resignation was obvious as it wafted across her angular features. “We’ll go. But don’t expect us to be happy about it.”

  “I would expect nothing of the sort.”

  I WASN’T FAMILIAR WITH Detroit. We lived in the suburbs – a really rich and ritzy suburb, at that – so I didn’t have to navigate through the gritty and grimy streets of the “big city” very often. So far, Dad had made sure that all my jobs were in the suburbs so I didn’t have to deal with areas like the one I found myself in tonight.

  I was starting to see exactly why he designed things in that manner.

  “Can you read the street signs, Cillian?” I asked as I peered through the windshield. “I don’t understand why there are no lights in this area.”

  “It’s because the city is trying to save money,” Cillian replied as he squinted out the passenger window. He sat in the front with me because he was the least likely to offer trouble (and most likely to be helpful), while Aidan and Braden sat in the middle seat. That left Aisling and Jerry in the very back, where they giggled and gossiped. I thought it best that they stay there and be kept out of the conversation.

  “They’re saving money by not using the lights?” Aidan asked, confused. “I don’t think that sounds like a smart idea. Someone should talk to them about it.”

  “I nominate you,” I shot back, my temper getting the best of me. “I think you should get out of this van right now and head toward City Hall. We’ll wait for you at home.”

  “Wow.” Aidan made an exaggerated face, which was on full display because I could see him in the rearview mirror. “Somebody took his grumpy pills today.”

  “I think he stole them from Dad,” Aisling said, leaning forward. She was suddenly interested in the conversation, which I didn’t take as a good sign. “Dad is the only one I know who blames us for things like streetlights not being on in a neighborhood we’ve never been to.”

  She had a point. That didn’t make me want to agree with her, though. “Shut up, Aisling.”

  “It’s right there,” Cillian announced, pointing at a tall building on the corner of the next block.

  “Are you sure?” I couldn’t see anything to indicate he was wrong. Of course, I couldn’t see anything to indicate he was right either.

  “I’m sure. There’s a sign right there. It says Outer Drive.”

  “Well, that’s good.” I exhaled heavily, letting some of the agitation I was feeling escape. “If it’s a warehouse that probably means there aren’t many people working the night shift. I’ll be able to put on my ring, leave you guys in the parking lot and slip inside without anyone noticing.”

  I hit my turn signal and pulled into the lot, not registering the fleet of vehicles parked there until I was already driving over the pothole-laden surface. There had to be at least one-hundred vehicles in the lot, which didn’t seem right given the time of day. “What the … ?”

  “I don’t think this place is in business,” Cillian observed, pressing his forehead against the window so he could get a better look at the building. “I mean … half the windows on the upper floors are broken. I don’t think you can work in a warehouse with broken windows. I’d have to check state regulations to be sure.”

  I cast my bookworm brother a derisive look. “Seriously? That’s what you’re thinking about? I just … don’t you understand what this is?”

  Cillian’s expression was blank as he looked back at the building. “Maybe it’s undergoing renovations.”

  “Or maybe it’s abandoned, bonehead,” Aisling offered from behind us, her frame straighter as she stared at the building in wonder. “Detroit is full of empty buildings.”

  “This building isn’t empty,” Cillian pointed out. “There are a lot of cars here, which indicates that someone is inside.”

  “Unless the cars are abandoned,” Aidan interjected.


  “That’s a brand-new Ford F-150 pickup,” Braden argued. “There’s no way anyone abandoned it.”

  “Ooh. Ooh.” Jerry squirmed in his seat. “Maybe the cars are stolen. Maybe we’ve stumbled across a car theft ring, and this is where they’re keeping the vehicles until the mobsters show up to claim them. Oh, man, it’s going to be just like Gone in 60 Seconds.”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” I said dryly.

  “It’s definitely not that,” Aisling agreed. “Do you see Nicolas Cage anywhere? It can’t be Gone in 60 Seconds without him.”

  “This is real life, Aisling,” Jerry countered. “Nicolas Cage is an actor. These are real stolen cars.”

  “They’re not stolen cars!” I barked.

  “Then what are they?” Cillian asked, legitimately curious. “No one is working in this warehouse. I promise you that. What’s going on here?”

  “It’s a rave, you ninnies,” Aisling shot back, making an incredulous face as I turned to glance over my shoulder.

  “How can you possibly know that?” I asked finally.

  “Because I’ve seen a lot of television, and this is always what rave parties look like,” Aisling answered, haughty. “If you’d watch more television you would know that.”

  She was a piece of work. I blamed my parents. She had a little too much self-esteem for a girl her age. When I was that age, all the girls in my grade worried that they were fat or that boys wouldn’t like them. Aisling never worried about things like that. The only thing that troubled her was how she was going to torture her arch nemesis Angelina Davenport on any given day.

  “This isn’t a rave,” I scoffed. “It’s … something else.”

  Aisling refused to back down. “It’s a rave.”

  “It’s not.”

  “It is.”

  “It’s not.”

  “It is.”

  “It’s not!” I practically yelled the denial at her.

  “I think she might be right,” Cillian interjected, pointing. “Those people coming out the front door have glowing headbands and wristbands, and I’m pretty sure they're smoking something other than cigarettes.”

  “Ooh, pot!” Aisling was officially excited about our new location. She unfastened her seatbelt so she could comfortably press her face against the window. “Can I go inside and look around? Just for educational purposes!”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Braden said, his eyes lighting when he caught sight of a scantily-clad woman with her breasts on display as she giggled and ran past the minivan.

  “It’s not a good idea,” I snapped, navigating the minivan to the back of the lot so I could park and consider my options. This wasn’t the sort of job I was expecting. Usually we get more information – like if anyone is inside or if the cops will be coming because it’s a murder – but this was an emergency job, so I had none of the details I usually relied on to make an informed decision when approaching a soul.

  “What are you going to do from here?” Cillian asked when I slammed the minivan into park. “I doubt very much the soul is going to wander out here.”

  “Of course not,” Aisling said. “The soul will stay inside because that’s where the drugs are. Oh, I bet it’s an OD. People overdose at raves all the time.”

  “How can you know that?” I was flabbergasted at her knowledge.

  “I told you, I watch a lot of television.”

  “Yes, but what are you watching that features raves and overdoses?”

  “Um … old Beverly Hills, 90210 reruns. They’re on Soapnet.”

  That couldn’t be right. “Beverly Hills, 90210 was about pretty people going to high school.”

  “And college,” Cillian offered helpfully.

  “And college,” I added. “It was about proms … and stealing boyfriends … and a lot of hair gel issues. It was not about raves.”

  Aisling made a clucking sound with her tongue and offered an expression that almost made me believe she felt sorry for me. “You need to watch more than Nip/Tuck, which you totally watch only because there’s occasional nudity. There was a lot more to Beverly Hills, 90210 than just proms.”

  “She’s right,” Jerry said sagely. “Beverly Hills, 90210 is not just a show. It’s a lifestyle. We’re talking young love, fathers being blown up on boats, angry men smashing pumpkins to prove they’re abusive and therefore unsuitable for dating, one character getting stalked so many times I lost count, perfect sideburns, Donna Martin graduating, cocaine, pot, bad boyfriend decisions and aborted weddings. That’s so much more than just a show about proms.”

  I didn’t realize I was openly gaping until a bit of drool trickled from my mouth. “I can’t even believe I’m having this conversation with you people.” I wiped my chin and turned back to the building. “How am I supposed to get in there and find this Peter Langstrom? The place is buzzing with bodies.”

  “I think you’re making it harder than is necessary,” Cillian offered helpfully. “This situation is probably better for you because you don’t have to worry about people seeing or recognizing you. No one we know would be hanging out here.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I was worried about.” I shot him a withering look. “I need to find one soul in a building full of drugged-out souls. That’s … impossible.”

  “Not impossible,” Cillian countered. “These people are your age. All you need to do is go inside and ask about Peter Langstrom.”

  “Don’t be obvious about it, though,” Braden warned. “If you go in and demand this Langstrom guy’s location, people will be suspicious. They’ll think you’re a cop.”

  “Or a narc,” Aisling supplied. “It’s more dangerous to be a narc than a cop in a situation like this. Druggies flee from cops. They try to silence narcs by any means necessary.”

  “I’m so having Mom and Dad start monitoring your television habits,” I muttered. “I just can’t even … this is unbelievable.” I rolled my head back on the rest and stared at the minivan ceiling. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “You could still call Dad,” Cillian said. “He’ll be angry you didn’t call him right away, but he probably has time to get here and handle this if you don’t think you can.”

  To my utter surprise, Aisling was affronted on my behalf. “He can handle this. He’s not helpless. This is just different from what he was expecting. It’s not the end of the world.”

  “From the girl who once declared she could never return to school because someone taped a tampon to the outside of her locker,” Braden muttered.

  “Hey! That was traumatizing.” Jerry cuffed the back of Braden’s head, causing my brother to turn around and begin a ridiculous slap fight.

  “Knock that off,” I warned, extending a finger and glaring. “We don’t have time for this. I have a limited timetable to gather a soul. We are not calling Dad. Aisling is right. I can handle this.”

  “Did you hear that, Braden? I’m right.” Aisling preened. “For my next trick, I suggest I go inside with you to help you find this soul, Redmond. I know more about raves than you do and we’ll be able to slip inside without anyone noticing.”

  I doubted very much that was true. “You’re thirteen.”

  “I’ll be fourteen in two weeks.”

  “That hardly matters,” I argued. “You’re not going to a rave. Dad would kick me out of the house if I let you visit a rave.”

  “Dad doesn’t have to know,” Aisling countered. “He doesn’t have to know anything about this.”

  “Absolutely not!” I was adamant as I shook my head. “You’re staying here and I’m going inside. I’m going to ask around for Peter Langstrom, put my ring on when I find him, absorb his soul and then sneak out.”

  “That sounds like it’s going to take more than five minutes,” Aidan pointed out.

  “Yes, but I’m betting I can get it done in ten minutes,” I argued. “We’re talking fifteen minutes tops.” Even as I said the words a niggling fragment of doubt flashe
d in the back of my brain. I was making it sound too easy.

  I immediately tamped down the doubt and forced a smile for my siblings. “I’ve got everything under control. Trust me.”

  Aisling exchanged a dubious look with Jerry. “What would Brandon and Dylan have done in this situation?”

  “They would’ve been cool.”

  “Then I guess we will be, too.” Aisling offered me a mock salute. “God speed, big brother. I hope you don’t run into a pyromaniac who wants to burn your float inside.”

  I was completely lost. “What?”

  “Ugh, I’m totally making you watch Beverly Hills, 90210 when we get home,” Aisling grumbled.

  I was eager to get home, so I was willing to agree to anything. “It’s a date. You guys stay here while I’m gone. Cillian is in charge. You have to listen to him. Do you understand?”

  Five heads nodded in unison.

  “Great.” I sucked in a breath to collect myself. “So … do I look like I’ll fit in at a rave?”

  “Absolutely.” Cillian bobbed his head. “You look badass.”

  “I think you look like an extra from The Brady Bunch,” Braden offered, causing me to smile. “Good luck.”

  I was really getting sick of people wishing me luck. It was starting to feel like a pity comment more than anything else.

  4

  Four

  I liked to think of myself as a tough kid. I grew up on the mean streets of Detroit, after all. I had a reputation to uphold.

  The sad truth was that I grew up in a rich suburb of Detroit, where everyone watched everyone. To be fair, the Grimlocks were considered the bad element in our neighborhood, but that was only because my father often grew weary of trying to make us behave and set his brood on our unsuspecting neighbors rather than deal with us himself.

  I fancied myself a tough hombre with out-of-this-world reflexes and a gritty exterior that the worst bad guy on the block – even this block, which I was convinced had seen its fair share of evildoers – would fear.