Grim Tempest Page 7

  “You don’t look like her at all,” Jerry countered. “You’re an absolute dream.”

  “No, I’m an absolute nightmare.” I swished my hips and groaned when I realized the dress didn’t look as if I were moving at all. “Jerry, this skirt is the thing that Godzilla fears. It makes noise when I walk, although it doesn’t shift at all.”

  “It’s supposed to look like a bell.”

  “It looks like the bell that flattened the hunchback.”

  Jerry furrowed his brow. “What hunchback?”

  “The one that played football for that one team.”

  It took Jerry a moment to wade through the mess that was my mind. “The Hunchback of Notre Dame?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Yeah, you don’t look like that, but now all I’ll be able to picture is that dress flattening someone,” Jerry said. “Go try on the third one.”

  “Fine. If it’s as bad as these other two, though, we’ll have to start over. I can’t tolerate any of these dresses. They’re not what I want.”

  “I don’t even think you know what you want,” Jerry muttered behind me.

  “I heard that.”

  “I meant for you to hear it.”

  I paid absolutely zero attention to the third dress. Other than noting it was much simpler and easy to pull on, I spent my entire tenure in the dressing room debating how I was going to apologize to Jerry and get him to talk about his problems. This time when I walked out of the room I marched straight up to him and slapped my hand over his mouth.

  “I know you’re upset about what happened last night,” I announced, snagging his gaze. “I don’t think it was your fault, though, and we’re going to figure it out. I didn’t mean to say what I did before I started trying on dresses. It was mean. That’s not who I want to be today.

  “Okay, well, I always kind of want to be mean,” I clarified. “I was mean to Angelina this morning at the coffee shop. I got off some real zingers, but they weren’t nearly as fun as they should be because she looks worn to the bone. I guess her mother’s illness is worse than I originally thought. I suppose it doesn’t matter, but it almost makes me feel sorry for her. Almost.

  “As for what happened with you and Aidan, I don’t for a second believe you did it on purpose or even meant for it to happen,” I said, opting not to mention my theory about evil storms until I was sure Jerry was settled. “We’ll figure everything out. Aidan loves you. I’m sure it will be okay.”

  I stared at Jerry for a long time before he finally wrapped his hand around my wrist and removed my hand. “Can I speak now?”

  I nodded.

  “I know Aidan and I will work things out. I still feel guilty. I’m upset because I remember doing it, but have no idea why. It’s disheartening to think I have that level of darkness in my heart.”

  “You’re the best person I know.” I opted for sincerity. “I know you didn’t mean it. Deep down, Aidan knows it, too.”

  “I wish he would talk to me.”

  “I’ll make him talk to you. Together, he won’t be able to fight us off.”

  “There’s a plan.” Jerry smiled and it lit up his entire face. “Now, turn around. I think we found your dress.”

  “What? Oh.” I shifted so I could see myself, fully expecting to hate my reflection. Instead I sucked in a breath when I saw the clean lines and simple skirt. The dress was almost completely without frills and yet it fit my personality to a T. “Huh.”

  “I thought you were crazy when you picked it out,” Jerry admitted. “I thought it was ugly and plain. You make it special, though.”

  “You know what? I kind of like it.” I swished my hips and blew out a relieved breath when the skirt moved. “It’s kind of perfect, huh?”

  “All it’s missing is a tiara.”

  “Lay off the tiara stuff.”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  “Well, they don’t appear to have one here,” I noted. “I guess we’ll have to push off that argument for another day.”

  “I have one in my car.” Jerry moved to hop off the elevated floor. “I’ll be right back.”

  At the same moment he pulled away, a rumble of thunder caused the floor to shake and I snapped my head to the storefront windows. It was storming again, and it looked like a hurricane was about to hit outside.

  “No, don’t go to your car.” I grabbed Jerry’s sleeve as tightly as I could. “We’ll play with the tiara later.”

  “I don’t mind getting wet,” Jerry said. “I can take a shower as soon as I get home.”

  I grabbed him tighter. “Don’t go outside.” I didn’t want to explain, but I was desperate to keep him with me. For some reason I felt it was imperative that I didn’t lose sight of my friend. “Even though this is the dress I like, I’ll try on that ugly one you first showed me so we can laugh if you forget about the tiara for now.”

  Jerry’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Really?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I’ll try it on and let you take one photograph.”

  “Oh, yay!” Jerry clapped. “This day is already looking up.”

  I was glad one of us could say that.

  7

  Seven

  Griffin called as I was parking at Grimlock Manor.

  “Hi, honey.” I adopted a fake and breathy voice I knew would amuse him. “I found a wedding dress today and I’m so looking forward to the big event. I can’t wait to reenact my shopping excursion for you. I think we’re both going to get a big kick out of it.”

  “You found a dress?” Griffin didn’t bother to hide his surprise.

  “I did, but I had to try on three ugly dresses to appease Jerry before he’d let me settle on the one I actually liked. He still insists I need a tiara, but I plan to tackle that argument later.”

  “Oh, well, that sounds like a good idea.” Griffin sounded distracted. “Listen, I called for a reason.”

  I was instantly alert. “What’s wrong? You’re not hurt, are you?”

  “Why would you think I’m hurt?”

  “Well … it stormed.”

  Griffin’s sigh was long and drawn out. “Aisling, you need to let that go. I know you believe you’ve got it all figured out, but I can’t believe in magical storms. That’s where I draw the line.”

  That made one of us. Still, I didn’t want to engage in an argument over the phone. I would save that delightful occurrence for when we were together. “I’m not asking you to believe in magical storms,” I lied. “I’m fine if you think I’m a whackadoodle.”

  “I think you’re all kinds of doodles.” I could practically see Griffin smiling. “I’m calling to tell you that I’m probably going to miss dinner.”

  That threw me. “I … oh … okay. Why?” It wasn’t that I blamed him for missing family dinner. There were times I wanted to miss it, too. He was usually fine with mandatory attendance, though, and I wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.

  “I’m just really busy,” Griffin replied. “I have a murder-suicide I’m working on. It’s fairly straightforward, but I want to wrap everything tonight, which means working late.”

  “Murder-suicide?”

  “Yeah, some guy lost his temper on I-94 while changing a flat during the storm and when his girlfriend rolled down the window to ask him what was taking so long he beat her to death with the tire iron. Then, when he realized what he’d done, he walked into oncoming traffic and killed himself. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it. It’s been all over the news.”

  “I’ve been in a bridal shop,” I reminded him, my mind busy. “That sounds awful.”

  “It is awful,” Griffin agreed. “The guy who hit our murderer is extremely shaken up. We had to transport him to the hospital. I guess they sedated him because he wouldn’t stop shaking. People tried talking to him, but he wouldn’t listen.

  “Even before we realized he’d killed his girlfriend and heard witness reports of him walking into traffic we told the guy behind the wheel it wasn’t his f
ault because he probably couldn’t see due to the fog,” he continued. “I don’t think this is something he’s going to get over. He’s taking it really hard.”

  My heart rolled. “It happened during the storm?”

  Griffin’s tone turned chilly. “Aisling, don’t start.”

  “I’m not going to start.” At least not with Griffin and not when he sounded so weary. My father and brothers were another story. “If you can stop by toward the end of dinner, I’ll make sure Dad keeps something warm for you. Text me when you know what time you’ll be heading home. I can bring leftovers back to the townhouse for you. I think it’s prime rib night.”

  Griffin brightened considerably. “And people say you’re not domestic.”

  “Ha, ha.” I poked a finger into my right eye and gave it a good wiggle. I was starting to get a headache. “I think my mother is coming for dinner anyway, so you’re probably not missing anything.” I wanted to end the conversation on a light note. “I believe there was talk of flower selections yesterday, although I tried to tune it out.”

  “Have fun with the flower selections,” Griffin said. “I’d like to be involved in the final decision on the flowers if that’s okay.”

  I was surprised. “You would? I don’t even want to be in on the decision and I’m the bride.”

  “I guess I’m turning into a groomzilla.”

  I laughed. “We should play a game where you get to be groomzilla. It might be fun.”

  “All our games are fun. I … wait. Hold on.” Griffin pulled away from the phone and said something to a man talking in the background. When he came back on he was all business. “I have to go. I’ll text you when I know more. Enjoy dinner with your family.”

  “That sounds oddly like a threat.”

  Griffin chuckled. “I love you. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay. Be safe.”

  MY MIND WAS STILL on Griffin’s story when I let myself into Grimlock Manor. I heard at least two of my brothers – Redmond and Braden, I was almost positive – screwing around in the main parlor to my left. That was only one of the reasons I headed to the right.

  I found Dad sitting in his office, his gaze intent on his computer screen. He obviously hadn’t heard me enter because he didn’t as much as lift his eyes.

  I took a moment to study him. He was tall and strong … and he spoiled me rotten, so he was one of my favorite people in the world. He was also a pragmatic thinker. That’s why I wanted to float my storm theory to him in private.

  “I can hear you breathing, Aisling.” Dad remained focused on his work. “If you’re thinking of hitting me up for something big, just be forewarned, I’m in the middle of our yearly budget and I’m in no mood to fund your extravagances.”

  “Since when do I ask you to fund my extravagances?” I groused, strolling into the room and heading toward the scepter hub in the back area. I shoved my silver stick of death into the opening and watched as the orb absorbed my collected souls. When the process finished, I shoved the scepter back in my pocket and turned to find my father staring at me.

  Cormack Grimlock may be a soft touch when it comes to certain things, but he is shrewd. The look he graced me with now told me he realized I was about to broach a serious subject.

  “What’s on your mind, kid?” Dad leaned back in his chair and sipped his cognac. “You look as if you’ve had a long day. You only worked half of it, so I’m not sure why that would be.”

  I shuffled closer to his desk, opting to plant myself in one of the large wingback chairs across the way. I tucked my legs under me and got comfortable. “Something weird is going on. I think it might be something … supernatural.”

  Dad didn’t look especially impressed with my announcement. “Is this like when you told me that you were pretty sure aliens were invading your high school and it would probably be best if you didn’t have to go any longer?”

  “I still maintain that was a real thing,” I shot back. “I could’ve had my brain sucked by aliens, and you didn’t care.”

  “Yes, if I remember correctly, you believed Angelina was the first victim,” Dad said dryly.

  “I haven’t been proven wrong on that.”

  “Yes.”

  “Speaking of Angelina, I saw her today,” I said, briefly shifting course. “She looks rough. I don’t think she’s sleeping.”

  “I’m surprised you care. A year ago you would’ve thrown a party.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’m maturing.” I didn’t believe that, but there was a small chance Dad might. “Have you heard anything about her mother?”

  Angelina’s mother was reportedly very ill. Terminally so. How long she had left was cause for gossip and speculation in the neighborhood. I had no love for Carol Davenport – just as I had no love for Angelina – but I wasn’t the sort of person who could exalt in someone’s death. No, really.

  “I haven’t, but I’m not close with the woman so it’s not as if I ask about her, even in social circles. Why?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” I turned serious. “As for what’s bothering me, I honestly think something odd is going on and I need someone to talk to.”

  Dad arched an eyebrow. “And you think that someone should be me?”

  “I think that you’re one of those people who can easily sort through a problem and make me see my own idiocy. Granted, it’s rare that I’m an idiot, but Griffin is convinced I’m turning this into some sort of ridiculous thing that it’s not so I want your take on it.”

  Dad didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “I think that might be one of the nicest compliments you’ve ever paid me, kid. Lay it on me.”

  That’s exactly what I did. I very calmly, very rationally, told him everything I knew. I related the fight I’d witnessed. I explained about Griffin’s rough two days at work. I even told him about Jerry’s fight with Aidan. That was the only moment he reacted, and he didn’t look happy.

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Dad held up a hand to silence me. “Jerry punched Aidan?”

  I nodded. “Jerry says he remembers doing it but still can’t figure out why he did it. He says it was as if he was overtaken by rage and had no choice but to lash out.”

  “And you think these things are related,” Dad mused, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “You think the storm is somehow causing people to fight. That’s what you’re saying?”

  His tone told me how he was going to rule. “You don’t have to make fun of me. I get it. You think I’m crazy, too.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Dad countered. “I’m simply trying to wrap my head around all of this. It seems a bit … far-fetched.”

  “I know, but it’s too coincidental to ignore,” I argued. “Everything odd that’s been happening, every fight and out-of-character reaction has occurred during a storm. I think I’m onto something.”

  Dad sipped his drink, I’m sure to buy time, and stared at me long and hard. Finally he decided to speak. Unfortunately he adopted a tone I remembered well from childhood.

  “Are you sure you’re not letting your imagination run wild?”

  He sounded so reasonable that most people would’ve fallen for his act. I wasn’t most people. “I don’t believe so. I feel there’s something odd going on with the storms and I’m determined to find out what that is.”

  “And how will you do that?”

  That was an interesting question. “I’m going to … look in books and stuff.”

  Dad chuckled. “So you’re going with the scientific approach?”

  “Oh, don’t laugh at me.” I made a face. “I’m serious about this. Given the fact that I was the only one convinced zombies were attacking a few weeks ago – and I turned out to be right – I’d think you’d give me more leeway on this. Instead you’re calling me a liar and laughing at me.”

  “I’ve done neither of those things,” Dad shot back, waving a finger. “I’m simply trying to understand why you feel the way that you do.”

  “You soun
d like the world’s worst shrink.”

  “And you sound like an eight-year-old with a fantastic imagination,” Dad said, causing me to scowl. When he realized I was about to hop out of my chair and storm out of the room, Dad adjusted his tone. “Aisling, I believe you want a supernatural explanation to this particular event because of Jerry’s involvement. I think that’s a natural reaction.”

  “Jerry isn’t the violent sort,” I supplied. “He doesn’t hit people. Heck, he was the one constantly telling me to stop picking fights with Angelina in high school. That’s not how he is.”

  “I happen to agree with you.”

  “You do?”

  Dad nodded without hesitation. “I’ve never seen Jerry act in such a manner, which could be exactly why he was due. When you were children, Jerry was the one standing at the sidelines watching the rest of you wrestle and smack each other around. I often wondered why he didn’t jump in. In fact, I asked him one day. Do you know what he told me?”

  I shook my head. “No, but it probably had something to do with getting his clothes dirty or risking a scab on his face. He mentioned something like that to me at a certain point. He has a reoccurring nightmare about getting a scab on his face that gets infected and leaves him looking like a circus freak.”

  Dad chuckled, genuinely amused. “No. He said that he didn’t see the point of solving problems with fists rather than words. I remember being surprised by his answer because it was rather profound for a child.”

  “He probably saw it on Oprah.”

  “Probably.” Dad’s lips curved. “Just because Jerry didn’t engage in shenanigans when he was younger doesn’t mean he didn’t have the occasional inclination. I think that inclination finally caught up with him.”

  “And you think that’s it?”

  Dad nodded. “I do.”

  I tilted my head to the side, considering. “Well, I don’t. I think we have evil storms and we should research them. I don’t care what you say, Jerry is convinced something bad happened in his brain. He doesn’t understand why he flipped out.”