Reaper's Blood (The Grimm Brotherhood Book 1)

by Kel Carpenter

  “You should ask them what to do about us,” a nasally voice said from behind me. I jumped and spun, my hand over my heart as it thundered in my chest.

  “Who the fuck invited you?” I gasped, staring hard at the unfamiliar male. He looked like some kind of Gothic poet, dressed like he was straight out of the eighteen hundreds, complete with lace cuffs and a piece of white fabric wrapped around his throat. His hair was greasy, hanging around his pale face in a limp curtain. His thin lips were pressed together, and his eyes were just as dark and creepy as Not-Morticia’s.

  “Salem . . . who are you talking to?” Tamsin asked, concern thick in her voice.

  I spun around, looking between both of them. “Don’t you see him too?” I asked Graves.

  His eyes darted to the corner of the room where I’d been staring. “Uh . . . no?”

  “Eddie,” I asked, turning back to what I now realized was another ghost. “Why can’t anyone else see you?”

  “Who’s Eddie?” he asked.

  I groaned. “Not the point, buddy.”

  The Edgar Allan Poe doppelganger shrugged. “Who am I to know about what these peasants can or cannot do? I am here for you.”

  Despite the fact that none of this was remotely funny, I snickered, far too amused that he just referred to Graves as a peasant.

  “Okay, next question,” I said, facing Graves and Tamsin once more. “Why can I see and talk to ghosts?”

  Graves blinked at me while Tamsin’s mouth fell open.

  “Uh . . . that’s not normal,” Graves said. “Are you sure they’re ghosts that you’re talking to?”

  “What the hell else would they be?” I said, looking over at Eddie. “This guy just called you peasant.”

  Graves’ brow furrowed, and Tamsin let out a cackle.

  “Maybe it’s a girl reaper thing?” my best friend suggested. “I mean you weren’t all that sure on the car accident. Maybe her powers work a little different than yours.”

  “I guess it’s possible . . .” Graves said, scratching the back of his head.

  “Do you think there is a way to talk to Shep?” I asked, the thought making my chest squeeze a little. “I haven’t seen his ghost hanging around but maybe if I can find him I could ask who killed him.”

  Graves and Tamsin’s faces both cleared, and they looked at each other, totally in tune for the first time since we started this chat. “Darla,” they both said in unison.

  “Who’s that?” I asked, my brows furrowing.

  “A witch,” Tamsin said, closing my dresser drawers with a hard thunk. “She loans out spells for a price. Sells magical artifacts. Knows a lot about a lot. She’s kind of the oddball in the community because while she’s a witch, she doesn’t belong to a coven. She just does her own thing.”

  “She sounds like a smart businesswoman,” I mused.

  “Something like that,” Graves said. “She’s best known for her discretion. If you go to Darla, it doesn’t leave her shop, so to speak.”

  “So she’s like Vegas. Awesome.” I jumped up from the bed and clapped my hands together. “Sounds like she’s exactly who we need to be talking to, then. What are we waiting for?”

  9

  The Bitter Bean

  “God,” Tamsin muttered, stumbling out of the backseat. “This is why I don’t ride with you.”

  I rolled my eyes and shoved the Impala keys in my back pocket, making sure the car wasn’t locked. We were in the shittiest part of town and locking your car was a great way to get your windows smashed. This area was falling apart; the sidewalks were crumbling and most of the storefront shops were closed. At the very end of the row, a basic white sign reading The Bitter Bean hung in front of a door where the black paint was peeling. The windows were tinted dark enough you couldn’t see much of anything through them.

  Graves opened the door like a gentleman and waited for both Tam and me to enter. I lifted my eyebrows, muttering, “Thanks,” as I passed by.

  Inside was about as shitty as the outside. The floor was concrete and stained in a way that clearly wasn’t intentional. Mismatched chairs surrounded circular end tables. The front counter was a bar of sorts with an espresso machine and other coffee-making instruments, but it was made of plywood from the looks of it and hadn’t been wiped down in quite a while. I approached the counter and ran my fingertip along the surface. It came away with a small pile of dust.

  “Darla in the back?” Tam asked. The bartender/barista dude dipped his chin in a nod, his expression blank. He wore his hair short in a buzz-cut close enough to his head that I could see most of his scalp. His clothes weren’t exactly what I’d call a uniform, and the scar running along his jaw kept me from uttering any of my usual smartass comments.

  He grabbed the counter with one hand and flipped it up. The middle panel swung on cheap metal hinges, squeaking loudly. I cringed but followed closely behind Tam as she walked past him and through a curtain of black beaded strands that dangled from the doorway.

  On the other side, a curiosity shop of sorts started. Shelves lined the small rectangular room. On them, jewelry and books and small glass vials filled with glowing liquids all caught my attention. Tam kept walking, clearly not as interested in what this Darla person had to offer. A large body bumped into the back of mine, and I stumbled forward.

  “What the—”

  “Just me,” Graves answered, much closer than before. His warm fingers skimmed the small of my back as he stepped around me. The scent of aftershave and spearmint hit me, making me lean closer. Graves didn’t seem to notice because he kept walking.

  I sighed wistfully and followed after them, approaching yet another counter at the end of the room, though this one was better built. Behind it, a woman dressed in layered skirts and wearing a gauzy shirt turned to me. Her dreadlocks were pulled back in a bun and a colorful swath of fabric was tied around her head in a makeshift headband. Despite her rather bright appearance, the look on her face was stern, if not mildly annoyed.

  “What do you need now, Tamsin?”

  My best friend’s cheeks turned a shade pinker. “I’m not here for me, actually. But thanks for asking,” she said with a fake chipper voice. I recognized that tone. Tamsin used it whenever she was in trouble and about to start backpedaling. I called it her “who, me?” tone, because it was sickeningly sweet and insincere. It was usually reserved for her mother or the cops, so who the heck was this woman that she could elicit such a response from my friend with a single question?

  Darla’s eyes skimmed over Graves, her brows lifting before her eyes landed on me. Interest was shining in the tawny depths, but when she spoke next, her question was aimed at Graves. “What’s a reaper doing escorting a succubus?”

  “Don’t see how that’s any of your business, Darla,” Graves answered, his voice clipped.

  “You’re in my shop. Everything’s my business.”

  Tamsin scowled at Graves, resting a hand on his arm as she started speaking. “We are looking for a summoning spell. You see, my best friend’s twin just died, and we were hoping we could contact him to find out more about the circumstances of his death. Can you help us?”

  “How’s the reaper involved?” she asked, tilting her head as she further studied Graves. His face was blank, but I could feel the tension radiating off of him the longer Darla stared.

  “He was my best friend,” Graves finally said. “I want to avenge his death.”

  “I have what you need, but it’s going to cost you.”

  “Name your price,” Graves gritted out.

  Darla’s eyes moved back to me, pinning me in place. “Not you, reaper. This one.”

  “Me?” I asked. Money was no object, but the way she was looking at me, like I was an insect and she was seconds away from lifting the magnifying glass that was going to set me on fire, was really not comforting.

  “Yes, Salem Kaine. You.”

  Alright, she just went from weird as fuck to creeper in all of four words.

  Dar
la grinned, flashing several golden teeth. “Yes, I know who you are.”

  “Most people do,” I replied, not letting it show how she got under my skin. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I pried open the case and started lifting out a credit card.

  “Oh no. I wasn’t talking about money.”

  I lifted my head, unease coiling in my stomach. I knew without anyone having to tell me that whatever payment she was about to demand was going to be something I really didn’t want to give. “What do you want, then?” I asked, trying to infuse my voice with my usual irreverence.

  Darla leaned closer, her smile widening. “Nothing much. Just a vial of your blood.”

  I could hear Tamsin’s intake of breath while beside me Graves was clenching and unclenching his hands.

  “Take mine,” he said before I had a chance to wrap my head around the request.

  “A tempting offer, reaper, but no. The price has been set. Pay it or don’t.” She shrugged as if she really didn’t care either way.

  “Fine,” I said, my lip curling up in a snarl. I didn’t like being backed into a corner, but we needed this, and for Shep I would give a whole lot more than a little bit of blood. “But if this spell doesn’t work, we’ll be back.”

  “You’ll be back either way, girl,” Darla replied. “But not for the reasons you think.”

  She knelt down below the counter to grab something, and Tamsin flashed me a warning look. “What do you expect me to do?” I mouthed.

  “Use some caution,” Graves muttered. I whacked him in the arm even though I got the distinct feeling I was doing some Little Mermaid shit right now and this broad was Ursula.

  “What exactly can you do with blood?” I asked.

  Her head popped up as she moved to stand once more and dropped a book on the counter. Its spine was leather-bound and tied shut with a string. She caressed it once with the long tip of her fake nail before saying, “The options are really limitless.”

  I didn’t find that answer encouraging. Not one bit.

  “Why do you want Salem’s blood?” Graves asked.

  Darla flashed him a condescending smile. “Why, Alexander, I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  If it weren’t my blood they were talking about I would have found her prickly demeanor amusing. As it was, I was pretty sure I was getting turned into a porcupine . . . or something equally stupid. Maybe a frog. That seemed like a witchier thing to do.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing else we can give you?” Tamsin asked. “If you know who she is, you know she’s rich. She can get you pretty much anything you want. Asking for her blood just for a summoning spell seems like a lot, though, even from you.” She gave Darla a pointed look and the woman just laughed.

  “The girl will do almost anything for this spell, and I have no need for money. My other less interesting clients tend to have plenty of that. Now,” she said, turning to directly address me. “For best results perform the spell on the full moon. Because you’re not a witch and will likely butcher the Latin, I strongly suggest you take my advice on this.”

  “Why the full moon?” I asked.

  “Because that is when the veil between our worlds is at its thinnest,” she said, pointing two fingers and then bringing them close together. “Also, because a witch’s magic is strongest then. Even a novice should be able to accomplish a summoning for a relatively new spirit on a full moon.”

  I pressed my lips together, because I really didn’t like the idea of waiting another two weeks to summon Shepard. What other choice did I really have, though?

  “Fine,” I sighed. I held out my right arm for her to take the blood.

  Darla looked from it to my face and started laughing. “My, she is new to all of this. You really should explain more before she gets herself into trouble bargaining with things she doesn’t understand,” she said. Then she snapped her fingers twice. “Clay!” she called out.

  The black beaded strands knocked together as the barista dude from the front poked his head through them. “Yeah?” he asked, sounding bored.

  “I need you to take a vial of blood from Ms. Kaine.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, holding up both hands. “You want Buzzhead to take my blood? That was not part of—”

  “New and judgmental,” Darla tsked. “You’re lucky I can see your future and know you’re not a lost cause. Clay here went to nursing school.”

  Silence spread through the room, and my only response was a soft, “Oh…”

  “Oh,” Darla repeated. “What did you think I was going to do? Lop your arm off?” She shook her head, clearly amused.

  Actually, I’d imagined something more along the lines of a sacrificial dagger and a violent slash along my skin, but I kept that part to myself. No need to go and prove even further how ignorant about this world I still was.

  Clay disappeared for a second before returning with a small red box. He went about setting things on the counter while the rest of us stood by in awkward silence watching him. He tied off a rubber string and pulled out a syringe that made me feel a little lightheaded. I wasn’t squeamish, but I’d always had a thing about needles. It’s why Shep and I never got those matching twin tattoos we’d talked about. As soon as my ass hit the chair and they pulled the tattoo gun out I was back up and out the door.

  A part of me was seriously wishing the dagger had been an actual option right now.

  “This might sting,” Clay said less than a second before jabbing me with the needle.

  I bit back a curse and started singing a Madonna song in my head. The pain was fleeting, and my eyes started to wander around the shop as Clay finished collecting my blood. A brief touch at my back had my eyes darting to where Graves stood on my right.

  His brows were low, and his blue eyes flashed with something that could have been concern. Given our history thus far, I doubted that’s what I was seeing.

  “All done,” Clay said, stuffing items back in his box before handing Darla a small vial.

  “What, no lollipop?” I muttered, rubbing the area above the bandage he’d placed over the injection site. Tamsin snickered and even Graves seemed to have a ghost of a smile on his face.

  Darla ignored me, focused instead on my blood. She held it up to the light, her expression unreadable. “This will do nicely.” Pocketing the vial, she pushed the book across the counter. “Remember what I said, girl.”

  “Wait until the full moon. Anything else I should know beforehand?”

  “Only the summoner can speak with the spirit summoned.”

  “Alright, then,” I said. That wouldn’t be a problem given I could already speak with the dead. The creepy witch didn’t need to know that, though.

  She tsked again and let go of the book. “See you around, Salem Kaine.”

  Not if I can help it, I thought while giving her a tight smile and picking up the book. I didn’t bother checking to make sure the others were following before I started for the curtain. I was moving fast, more than ready to get out of this place and not paying much attention to where I was going. There was a soft tinkle of bells as I pulled the door to the coffee shop open and walked straight into another patron.

  “Oof,” I gasped, bouncing back. The book fell from my hands.

  “Watch where you’re going,” an annoyed voice said above me.

  My eyes snapped up, about to lay into the ass who thought he was going to put me in my place. I’d had about as much of that as I could tolerate for one day. The words died on my lips as he stared hard behind me.

  “Alex, what are you doing here?”

  Graves’ jaw was tight as he looked from the stranger back to me. “Hey, James. I was just helping Shep’s sister take care of a few things.”

  James looked back at me, his eyes cold. “Here?” he asked.

  Graves shrugged, seeming at a loss for the first time since I’d met him.

  “We needed to get some uppers,” Tamsin said, coming to his rescue. “Everyone is allowed to se
lf-medicate when there’s a death in the family.”

  Something flickered in James’ eyes. Maybe sympathy? I wasn’t sure. “I suppose that’s true.”

  “James is my brother,” Graves finally said, answering a question no one asked.

  Looking between the two men, I could barely find the family resemblance. Graves had clearly won the genetic lottery in the family. Where he was tall, chiseled, and insanely handsome, James was utterly plain. His hair was a bland shade of brown, his eyes dishwater blue, his build average. There was nothing notable about him, except perhaps the interest he was currently taking in me.

  “Sorry about your brother,” he said, bending down to hand me the book I’d dropped. “He was a really nice guy.”

  Awkwardly, I accepted the book and gave him a tight smile. “Yeah, he was.”

  At that James nodded in my direction once and then said to Graves, “Dad’s been looking for you. There have been some . . . leads on the case.” I snorted, and James gave me a funny look. Tamsin grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door.

  “Nice meeting you,” she called over her shoulder, not out of hearing range but far enough away he wouldn’t feel the need to reply.

  “You think he’s talking about the—”

  “Yup,” Tamsin answered in a tight voice, dragging me all the way back to the car. A few minutes later, Graves followed us, and he didn’t look too happy.

  We were barely in the car with the doors shut before he looked over and said, “You suck at keeping anything a secret. If you’re not willing to go back to school you need to stay as far away from Grimm University and Gamma Rho as possible—or someone is going to get suspicious.”

  “What? I know I’m not great at it, but I can’t be that . . .” My words dried up at the look on Tamsin’s face in my rearview mirror. “Okay, fine. I just hate lying. Besides, he was openly talking about it in front of me.”

  “Because Grimms have a habit of thinking the rest of us are too dumb to keep up,” Tamsin sighed.

  Graves turned in his seat. “We do not.”

  “Yeah, you do,” she said. “Seriously, you guys are the worst. It’s like mansplaining but for species.” She rolled her eyes.