“Okay,” I grumbled. “But there better be some M&M’s.”
He smirked.
“Don’t even think about getting handsy,” I warned him, giving him the side-eye. Not that I would mind. The guy looked like he knew what to do with his hands. I just felt better saying it.
He actually laughed at me. “In your dreams, Salem Kaine.”
2
Stranger Danger
He held open the passenger door to his baby blue ‘79 Corvette convertible. I didn’t know shit about what was under the hoods, but my twin had been obsessed with American muscle cars, so I’d picked up some knowledge from him. I certainly knew enough to recognize this one was in pristine condition.
“Huh, who knew you had manners?” I snarked, sliding into the seat.
He shut the door and moved around the front of the car to the driver’s side. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”
I snorted. “It already does. Daily.”
He shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?” He climbed in and the engine roared to life. He twisted the knob on the radio, muting the deafening sound of The Smiths as he pulled away from the side of the road and took off.
I could stand the silence for all of thirty seconds before blurting, “So are you going to tell me your name, or should I just keep referring to you in my head as Stranger Danger?”
“I thought for sure the chocolate would be your first priority. Glove box, by the way,” he said. I was already reaching, pulling out the bag of candy and ripping it open as he finally answered my question. “Which name do you want? I have three of them.”
The way he said it made me pause mid-handful. “Was that your lame attempt at a joke?” I studied his profile, thinking the dark stubble only made the sharp angles of his face stand out more. Not wanting to get caught staring, I glanced at the steering wheel instead.
“I really do have three first names. Alexander Graham Graves, III, at your service,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. At least the guy knew how to make fun of himself. Maybe he wasn’t a giant douchcanoe after all. “Everybody calls me Graves.”
“Graves,” I repeated, testing it out. It was weird, as far as names went, but it seemed to suit the dark and broody thing he had going on. “Sounds like the nickname a serial killer would have.”
His lips quirked up. “Don’t expect me to tell you where I hide the bodies.”
“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t joking?”
He laughed again, the deep sound washing over me. My stomach tightened, and I shook my head, feeling all over the place. Clearly, my blood sugar was still too low, and it was making me stupid. I poured more of the candy into my mouth.
He snorted. “You’re a mess.” His eyes flicked down my chest to my lap where a few M&M’s had fallen. I plucked them from between my legs and stuffed them in my mouth too. His nose wrinkled in distaste.
“You forgot hot,” I said, half-chewing while speaking.
“What?”
“Hot mess,” I corrected.
Once more his eyes skimmed over me before turning back to the road. “Not sure that’s the term I would use while you’re covered in dirt and blood. Speaking of—does anything hurt?”
I stuffed another handful of M&M’s in my mouth. The chocolate was cheap, but I didn’t give a shit. Sugar in all forms was my kryptonite. “Nope.”
He looked sideways again; this time incredulous. “Are you sure? How long ago did you crash? Maybe the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet.”
I looked into the bag of M&M’s, pressing my lips together. Did I want to tell him? Could I even lie?
“Salem,” he prompted suspiciously. I gathered that I’d taken too long thinking.
“It was still light out when I crashed,” I said slowly, stuffing another handful of tiny chocolates into my mouth so I had an excuse not to speak.
“That was like four hours ago,” he said. “Why didn’t you come up to the road during any of that time?”
“Well . . .” I trailed off, grabbing another handful. Cool fingers wrapped around my wrist before I could shove them in my mouth. I glared up at him.
“Hey, you said I could have them,” I complained.
“I also asked you a question. Why were you still down there?” Only half his attention was on the road, and I was reminded of myself this afternoon, where I’d been too concerned finding the cupcakes to pay attention. Never mind that I’d also been speeding or driving like a bat out of Hell.
“Look, I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, avoiding the question because if I said that I died and came back to life without any injuries, he wouldn’t exactly think I was sane. Or uninjured, since that sounds like something someone who had been hit upside the head might say.
Graves let out a tight breath. “I get that, but don’t you find it a little odd that you were down there that long?” he asked, like I was on trial or something. All his questioning really did was bring my anger to the forefront once more.
“You know what I find odd?” I asked him. He lifted an eyebrow, silently urging me on. “What you were doing down there. Why were you in the woods with a flashlight to begin with?” I asked.
His lips pressed into a firm line and the muscle in his jaw ticked. “Looking for something,” he answered vaguely.
I took the opportunity to lift both my eyebrows and lean in. “What were you looking for? Hmm?” I asked; or demanded, really.
“I was . . .” his words trailed off as if he were scrambling for them but didn’t want me to see.
“Uh-huh, I thought so. You want all of my secrets, but you’re hard-pressed to share any of yours. It’s a two-way street, you know.” I tugged my wrist out of his grasp and poured the rest of the candy in my mouth before crumpling the bag into a ball.
“What is?” he asked, sparing me another narrow-eyed glance.
“Trust.”
He snorted. “I’m not the one with the trust issues. There are just some things that aren’t mine to tell.”
“Liar.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and I could hear the squelch of the leather beneath his skin. He was silent for so long I thought we were done talking, but after about a mile, he asked, “You ever heard of quid pro quo?”
I scrunched my nose. The expression was familiar, but I couldn’t remember anyone actually using it in a conversation before. “I tell you something, you tell me something?”
He nodded.
“Sounds dangerous,” I muttered, already missing my candy.
“The truth sounds dangerous to you?” he scoffed, his brow lifting in surprise.
“Less ‘the truth’ part and more the ‘your reaction’ part.”
“Fine, let’s try something easy. Why are you back in town, Salem?”
“My brother died. There are things I need to take care of here.” It was the truth, but not all of it. It was, however, all I was going to tell him. Just because I was being honest, didn’t mean I was spilling secrets.
He blew out a breath. “Couldn’t you have a lawyer or someone take care of it?”
“Nuh uh,” I started, then paused. “You don’t get two in a row. It’s my turn. What were you doing in the forest?”
“Patrol.”
“Oh, come on. A one-word answer doesn’t cut it.”
“Maybe you should be more specific about the rules next time,” he said, smirking.
Asshole. “Fine,” I gritted out. “You’re up.”
“What caused the accident?”
I glared out the window, trying to recall the seconds leading up to the crash. “Something was in the road. I was speeding and overcorrected.”
“Something?” he prompted.
“An animal, I think. It looked like it was on four legs. Hey, you owe me two now,” I said, realizing I’d answered without thinking. “Why were you on patrol?”
“There’ve been some wild animal sightings recently. A group of us take turns checking traps that we se
t to see if we can catch it and relocate it outside of town.”
I turned to face him. “Doesn’t seem very smart to go after a wild animal on your own in the middle of the night without, like, a gun or vest or something.”
“Was that a question?”
I blew out an annoyed breath, already reevaluating my stance that he wasn’t a douchecanoe. He was at least half-douchecanoe. The other half still remained to be seen. “Fine. What kind of animal attacks?”
“Wolf,” he answered.
I froze; my mouth already open with the words on the tip of my tongue.
Graves made a tsking sound. “My turn,” he practically purred. “Why did you wait so long looking for help if you were fine?” he asked.
Mind still racing from his last answer, I spoke without thinking. “I think I died . . . you know, just a little.”
Graves slammed on the brakes, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the road.
“Hey!” I shouted, my hands slamming on the dashboard. “I’ve already been in one accident tonight. No need to go for round two.”
“You just told me you think you died!” Graves yelled, his hands dropping from the steering wheel.
“Yeah, well, you said you wanted the truth,” I grumbled. “I know it sounds a little nuts, but I’m telling you the shit I saw before you got there . . .” My words died in my throat at the look on his face. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
Graves opened and closed his mouth twice before answering. “Run me through it from the beginning.”
“What?” I protested. “You said quid pro quo—”
“And you just said you died,” he interrupted, giving me a hard look. “I think I get to ask you anything I want right now.”
I glared back at him, and the staring contest went on for all of five seconds before I grumbled, “Fine, but none of this will hold up in a court of law. You are not getting me committed for being straight with you.”
A frown graced his too-perfect lips. “I’m not sure what I find more unbelievable right now. That you were digging around in your car—that was on fire—for Hostess cupcakes, that you think you died and came back to life, or that your biggest concern seems to be me trying to get you sent to a crazy house. Seriously, Salem? Just tell me what happened.”
I took a deep breath and started talking. “I already told you; something ran into the road. It looked sort of like a wolf, but bigger, and it had red eyes. I swerved to avoid it and the car flipped. Everything went black . . . and then it didn’t.” I cringed, hating how absolutely batshit crazy I sounded.
“Keep going,” he said, motioning for me to go on.
It was getting hard to meet his gaze, so I stared out the windshield. “I woke up, and there was this creepy girl. She looked like she belonged in the Addams family. She kept saying I had to go back and that it wasn’t safe to stay there. When I looked over at the car, I saw my body was next to it on the ground. I touched it, and then I woke up looking like this.” I gestured to myself. “The crazy part is, while there’s blood everywhere, I’m actually fine. I can’t find any wounds.”
I waited for him to say something. Anything, really. When he didn’t immediately start talking, I turned back to his glove box to see if there were more M&M’s. My fingers barely brushed over the latch before he grabbed my hand.
I looked back at him, and there seemed to be some sort of decision he was weighing. “This is going to sound crazy,” he started.
“I just told you I died and came back to life because a little girl told me to. So…” I let the words hang between us, and he finally nodded.
“Yeah. It does sound that way. Um, but you’ve been through a lot, and I’m pretty sure we haven’t even scratched the surface of crazy yet. I’m pretty sure you did die, and that you did come back.”
I blinked, evaluating him in a new light. Looks like I was going to have a roommate at the loony bin. “Okay . . . are you just saying that so that I feel better? Because if you’re just trying to get in my pants—”
“Oh my God,” Graves groaned. “Shepard said you were a bit extreme. Now I get it.”
“Hey!” I slapped his hands away, and he visibly flinched. That made me feel a little bad. But just a little. “What’s Shepard got to do with any of this?”
He exhaled heavily. “Well, if I’m right . . . everything. Salem, I don’t know how to tell you this—”
“Just spit it out already.”
“You say that . . .” he trailed off, looking at the car ceiling. “It won’t be so easy to hear.”
“I died in a car accident. Then I came back. I smushed my Hostess cupcakes that caused it—it doesn’t get any harder than that, buddy.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Smushing cupcakes is not equivalent to what I’m about to tell you,” he said, utterly serious.
“I’m beginning to doubt that given you won’t just say it. What’s the big deal—”
“Magic is real. Fairy tales are real. Monsters are real.” I stared at him open-mouthed, not sure how to respond. Maybe I wasn’t the only one to hit my head tonight . . .
Then he said the craziest part of all.
“And I’m pretty sure you’re one of them.”
3
Scream
I stared at Graves for approximately three seconds before throwing my head back and laughing. I laughed so hard that my lungs ached and tears rolled down my cheeks. I could hear him swearing beside me, but couldn’t seem to stop my laughter long enough to say anything. I mean, seriously, what other reaction was there?
“Oh man,” I sputtered once I could catch my breath. “I really needed that.”
He was stone-faced as he stared at me. “You done yet?”
I wiped a tear away and looked at him. He was livid. “Oh, come on, big guy. Don’t tell me I managed to hurt your feelings. You tell me fairy tales are real and you expect me to what? Gasp? Faint? What reaction were you hoping for? Are you my prince charming? Did I come back to life because you woke me up with a kiss?”
From my vantage point, I could see a vein pulsing in his neck. He closed his eyes, the dark lashes tangling together as he took a deep breath.
“Not sure this is the time or place for meditation—”
His eyes flew open, and he glared at me. “Don’t play stupid with me, Salem. It doesn’t suit you.” My mouth snapped shut. “I’ll admit, I might not be the best person to give you the talk, but I’m what you’ve got, so you need to listen, and you need to listen well or you are about to find yourself in a world of shit you are not prepared for.”
Something about the intensity in his stare had me nodding, my heart racing inside of my chest. “Okay,” I managed, while inside I just kept thinking, Oh, shit. He might be telling me the truth.
Truth carries a certain weight to it. You know it when you hear it, and right now I was pretty sure Graves was about to bury me beneath a mountain of it.
“Farrow’s Square is a supernatural town. The supernatural town, really. Almost everyone who lives here is somehow connected to the supernatural world—”
“But—” He glared at me and the words died on my lips. I ended up nodding for him to continue.
“Everyone. That doesn’t mean they all know about the world they are connected to, but at least one person in their family is a supe.”
“A supe?”
“A supernatural. Someone that isn’t human,” he said like it was nothing at all. This was just everyday life for him.
“What are you?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear what kind of monster he thought I was just yet. That was a little more than I could handle on an empty stomach.
“The same thing as your brother, and your father, as it so happens. I’m a Grimm. A reaper. And I think you might be too.”
“A Grimm reaper?” I repeated. “Like one of those dudes that wears a cloak and has a scythe? Kinda like the villain in the Scream movie—”
“Oh my God,” he groused. “I drop this bombshell o
n you and you’re still going on about shit that doesn’t matter—”
“Hey!” I snapped. “You’re the one that sprung this on me. I just had the worst night of my life, died and came back, and now you’re going on about monsters and how I may be one. What did you think I was going to do?”
“Well,” he drawled, some of the ire in his voice fading. “I wasn’t really sure. I’ve never had to do this before . . .”
“Clearly,” I deadpanned. “You’re not supposed to spring this shit on people when they’re already on the verge of a meltdown, especially when they’re without food. You at least try to ease them in. It’s like foreplay. You have to preheat the oven before you just slide your dick right on in there.”
Graves turned, blinked twice, and started talking before I could continue with my mixed metaphor. “I’m trying, okay? It’s not exactly like I’ve done this before either. Fuck, before tonight I didn’t even know it was possible for there to be female reapers.”
“Didn’t know it was possible?” I repeated. “If both my dad and brother were reapers—why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me? I mean, Shep and I were twins for God’s sake. That’s a pretty big thing for them to keep from me and never consider I could be one too.”
“Supernatural genetics doesn’t work like other genes. Especially not the reaper one. Only males can be reapers. At least, that’s how it’s always been . . .” he trailed off.
“Yeah, well. Lucky me. I can’t be in this town for one goddamn second without crazy shit happening.” I let out a tight breath and leaned back, closing my eyes. “Can you please keep driving? I’m disgusting and would kill for a shower and food right now.”
“Yeah,” Graves said, shaking his head. His foot eased off the brake, and we started moving once more. “Look, Salem. I know this is a lot to take in. Are you sure you want to go home right now? I know your aunt is probably expecting you, but if you go inside looking like you do now, she’s probably going to take you to a hospital, and you can’t tell them what you just told me.”
I narrowed both eyes at him. “This is exactly what I meant by you being the fucking candy man with a van. I should have listened to my gut—and not the hungry one.”
Reaper's Blood (The Grimm Brotherhood Book 1) Page 2