Grim Rising (Aisling Grimlock Book 7)

by Amanda M. Lee

  A dress. I’d been dreading that since Jerry started pulling out back issues of Bride magazine, forcing me to look at taffeta nightmares from three different decades. “Jerry … .”

  “We’ll start tomorrow,” Jerry announced. “Come over to our place for breakfast, and we’ll leave right after.”

  That sounded like a terrible way to spend a day. “I have work.”

  “No, you don’t. I called your father and he said you have the day off.”

  That’s what happens when you work with family. They rat you out. “Jerry, I’m not sure that … .”

  “It’s already decided.” Jerry folded his arms over his chest, as if daring me to argue. “It’s going to be a full day of shopping, so make sure you eat a lot. And get plenty of sleep. That means you can’t keep her up with your wandering hands, Griffin. She needs to be fresh if we’re going to find the perfect dress.”

  I expected Griffin to argue. Instead he merely smiled. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

  “Hey!” That was so not how I saw this evening going. “I thought we were going to play games in front of the fire.”

  “We’ll figure something out.” Griffin smiled at Jerry before lowering his voice. “If you think I’m going to fight your battles with Jerry you’re very wrong. I love you and want this to be a perfect day, but where Jerry is concerned you’re on your own.”

  That’s exactly what I was afraid of.

  3

  THREE

  “What do you think of this?”

  Jerry lifted a wide white monstrosity – buckets of lace and sparkling rhinestones adorning the bodice – and held it in front of his slim hips.

  “I think you would have to kill me to get me into that,” I replied without hesitation. “The skirt on that thing is wider than I am tall.”

  Jerry made a face as he returned the dress to the rack. “It’s a bell hoop. They’re making a comeback.”

  “If that’s supposed to mean something you missed your mark.” I ran my fingers over a nearby dress, frowning when I imagined wearing it.

  “Do you like that one?” Jerry was hopeful.

  “I’m pretty sure I’d feel as if I was choking if I put it on,” I said. “In fact, for all we know the dress is possessed and it really would choke me because it knows I’m a filthy harlot.”

  “Oh, well, it’s good to know you’re not freaking out or anything,” Jerry drawled. “Since when did you start thinking of yourself as a dirty harlot?”

  “In the bathtub last night. There were scented bubbles.”

  “When else?”

  “Every day since I started noticing wedding dresses,” I admitted, rolling my neck as I stepped to a different rack. “Have you ever noticed how white they are?”

  “Have I ever noticed how white wedding dresses are? Yeah. They’ve written songs about it. What’s your deal? You’ll look great in white. You have the perfect coloring for white, by the way. You’re going to look like an angel.”

  “But I’m not an angel. That’s my problem. The dresses are too white. They make me feel … weird.”

  “Oh, geez.” Jerry made an exaggerated face as he joined me at the rack. “I think you’re freaking yourself out about this for no good reason. Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You know.”

  “I really don’t.” I didn’t. I felt better after Griffin and I talked the previous night, but the feeling lasted only until Jerry forced me into a Royal Oak wedding boutique on the city’s kitschiest street. “Have you ever considered I’m not good enough for Griffin?”

  “No.” Jerry answered without hesitation. “You haven’t considered it either. Not really.”

  “I’m considering it right now. The white dress makes me feel … flawed.”

  “Oh, shut up, Bug,” Jerry groused. “You’re the least insecure person I know. You’re happy with Griffin. He’s happy with you. Something else is going on here.”

  “Yes. I’m not good enough for him.”

  “That’s not it.” Jerry tapped his bottom lip as he regarded me with overt irritation. “Oh, I know what it is.”

  He said it as if he honestly did know, but I had my doubts. “What is it then?”

  “You’re worried about the reaper stuff.”

  I glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping and pinched Jerry for good measure when I assured myself that the family reaping secret remained intact. “Say it a little louder,” I hissed. “I don’t think that Stepford wife and Twilight teen temptation over there heard you.”

  Jerry leaned to his right so he could gaze around me and focus on the women shopping on the other side of the store. “Okay, I get the Stepford comment. That woman has so much product in her hair she looks as if she’s wearing a helmet.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What’s the deal with the Twilight comment, though? I happen to love those books, and that girl looks absolutely nothing like Bella. Besides that, she’s clearly not a teenager. She looks young, but she’s shopping for a wedding dress. I think that denotes that she’s at least eighteen.”

  “Not if she’s knocked up and her parents signed a waiver.

  Jerry pursed his lips and folded his arms across his chest, waiting.

  “Fine.” I scalded him with a dark look. “She’s not a teenager. She looks the type, though.”

  “What type?”

  “The type who will feel at home in a white dress and not worry that she’s totally ruining an innocent man’s life.”

  “Oh, well, here we go.” Jerry led me to a set of chairs in the middle of the store, pushing me into one before settling next to me. “Talk.”

  “Fine. I’m not a harlot.”

  “I know that. Before Griffin I worried you’d ultimately opt to become a nun. I thought whoever your next conquest was might find cobwebs down there.”

  “Ha, ha.” Jerry always made me laugh. Today I didn’t seem to have the energy to give in and embrace the surreal. “I’m not a harlot, but I’m worried that Griffin deserves better.”

  “You’ve said that twice now and it’s ticked me off each time,” Jerry snapped. “Griffin doesn’t want any of the hundreds of people he could have who are better than you. Wait … that came out wrong. What I mean is that you’re what he wants and he seems to be happy with the total package. Before he proposed, you were happy with the total package, too. What’s your damage?”

  “It’s not me. I know I’m delightful and men everywhere should fall at my feet and tell me so.”

  Jerry snorted. “So what is it?”

  “The reaping thing.”

  Jerry turned slowly, his face a mask of “I told you so” triumph. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve almost died four or five times since Griffin and I met,” I reminded him. “I keep finding trouble even though I’m not looking for it.”

  Jerry arched a challenging eyebrow.

  “Hey, I’ve only been looking for trouble like three times when I almost died. It finds me whether or not I’m looking.”

  Realization washed over Jerry’s face. “And you think that Griffin is in danger because of all of this stuff and you want to save him from it, so you’re telling yourself you’re wrong for him as some sort of penance. Do I pretty much have that right?”

  Sadly, he was very close. “If something ever happens to Griffin because of me … .” I left the sentence hanging because it was too terrible to finish.

  “Well, it’s too late for that, Bug,” Jerry said, remaining calm despite the fury in my eyes. “If that was really a concern you would’ve sent him on his way after you got down and dirty a few times. You couldn’t, so … it’s done.”

  “But … .”

  “No.” Jerry made a clucking sound with his tongue. “It’s too late to turn back. No matter what you’re feeling, I know you. You wouldn’t want to turn back anyway. You love Griffin.”

  “I do love him. That’s why I don’t want him to die.”

 
“He doesn’t want you to die either, and there’s no way you’ll ever shake him now,” Jerry said. “The thing is, Bug, you both have dangerous jobs. He’s a detective with the Detroit Police Department, pretty much one of the most violent cities in the country. You’re a reaper. You have wraiths coming after you at every turn and crazy freaks dropping out of mirrors to get you. You don’t live normal lives.”

  “Doesn’t he deserve a normal life?”

  “Don’t you think you should’ve thought about that before he proposed?”

  Jerry had a point, but I couldn’t shake the worry weighing heavily on my shoulders. “I love him. I don’t want to give him up.”

  “That’s good, because he’s not going to let you. He’s smart enough to realize when you’re being a schmuck. But don’t ever tell him I said that.”

  I snickered. I couldn’t help myself. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “You two are now officially stuck, Bug,” Jerry said. “You love each other. You hurt when he hurts. He suffers when you suffer. For better or worse, your lives are already forever joined. The wedding is just a formality at this point.”

  He was right. Fighting it was silly. “I won’t ever recover if something happens to him.”

  “He won’t ever recover if something happens to you.”

  I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead and sucked in a breath. “I guess that means we’ll have to work overtime to make sure nothing happens to either of us, huh?”

  “That would be nice.” Jerry squeezed my shoulder. “Now, it’s time to try on some dresses.” He was back to business. “What kind of dress do you want?”

  He wasn’t going to like the answer, but after last night I knew telling the truth was important. “I want something simple.”

  Jerry groaned. “Simple? Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Simple,” I repeated. “If it didn’t look too white I’d be happy, too. I’m not joking about the whites being too … white.”

  “Oh, geez.” Jerry pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to be the most difficult bride ever, aren’t you?”

  He had no idea. “Did I tell you that I want a blue cake?”

  “Shoot me now.”

  “WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

  After two hours I found only one dress I even remotely liked, and it wasn’t something I’d spend money on. Still, Jerry was desperate for me to try on a dress, so I felt I needed to do it for his sake. He was about to swim a lap in the crazy pool if I didn’t try on something.

  I thought he’d laugh, make fun of my taste or maybe even dive beneath a dress rack to hide his eyes from my hideous selection. Instead I found him sniffling, tears threatening to course down his cheeks.

  “Don’t you dare,” I warned, extending a finger. “If you cry, I’ll punch you in the nuts.”

  Jerry sucked in a steadying breath, but the shimmer in his eyes remained.

  “Oh, come on.” I turned to look at myself in the mirror, finding I didn’t hate the way I looked nearly as much as I’d thought I would. “Hmm.”

  The quiet moment didn’t last long. When I lifted my head I saw the devil’s reflection staring back at me from the spot next to Jerry before she even opened her mouth.

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Angelina Davenport had a smug smile on her face as she leaned back on her heels and rocked. “Are you two finally admitting that no one else will ever have you and settling for a marriage of convenience? I have to say, I called this in tenth grade.”

  I narrowed my eyes, debating whether I could jump on her without ripping a dress I didn’t want to buy. I didn’t get a chance to find out because Jerry was already on the attack.

  “I can’t believe they even let you in here,” Jerry seethed. “I would have thought your foul stench would cause them to force you out of the building for fear of ruining the dresses with that crab odor you always expel.”

  “Oh, bite me.”

  “I’ve already had my flea bath for the week.”

  I considered telling Jerry that particular burn reflected as poorly on him as Angelina, but there didn’t seem to be a need to make the situation worse. Instead, I gathered up the dress fabric and stepped down from the three-way mirror platform so I could meet my arch nemesis – and, no, I’m not being remotely dramatic – on even footing.

  “Did you come in here to rub your face against the dresses and dream of a world where a man wouldn’t rather cut off his hand than touch you?” I asked, going for Angelina’s tender spot right off the bat. “Is your purse full of Kleenex? We certainly know your ass is full of lard, so one would seemingly go with the other.”

  Angelina rolled her eyes. “That didn’t even make sense.”

  “I don’t know. I managed to call you a lard-ass and make fun of the fact that men hate you in one sentence. I consider it a win.”

  “But what does my purse being full of Kleenex have to do with my ass being full of lard?”

  Crap! I hate it when she has a point. “What are you even doing here? Oh, wait, let me guess. You’re following women around in an effort to trip them so you can move in on their broken-hearted soul mates after the fact. I’m close, right?”

  “I’m here to pick up a veil for a client.” Angelina bobbed her head in a haughty manner. “At least I have a legitimate reason to be here. Why are you here?”

  “Cillian is getting married and we’re picking out bridesmaid dresses.” It was a low blow. My brother Cillian dated Angelina for a time – until she cheated on him – but she remained hung up on him as he tried to put the shame of ever touching her behind him. “We’re all looking forward to the big day.”

  The jab hit hard and true, and for a moment, Angelina’s face slackened. Then she realized she wasn’t nearly as slow as I pegged her to be and gestured toward the dress I wore. “You’re wearing a wedding dress to your brother’s wedding? Did I slip into an inbreeding wormhole when I wasn’t looking?”

  I had to give her credit for the wormhole reference – however grudgingly – but the inbreeding joke made me want to kick her in the vagina while simultaneously punching her in the boob. What? She’s horrible. She has it coming.

  “I saw the dress and wanted to try it on. It’s no big deal.”

  “No, it’s a really big deal,” Jerry corrected, shooting me a hard look. “Aisling is the one getting married.”

  Whatever she was expecting, that wasn’t it. When hearing about my good fortune, Angelina’s features twisted even harder than they did when faced with the thought of losing Cillian forever. “You’re getting married?”

  I nodded. “I am.”

  “Show her the ring,” Jerry prodded. “That will make her green with envy instead of puke for a change.”

  Angelina shot Jerry a withering look. “What does that even mean? Am I green because I want to puke or because someone else puked on me?”

  Jerry looked to me for help, but all I could do was shrug. “I want to argue with her because she’s Angelina, but our insults haven’t been great today. I blame the dress.”

  “Don’t blame the dress,” Jerry hissed. “It can hear you. You don’t want to hurt its feelings before the big day.”

  “Jerry, I’m not buying this dress. It’s the closest to what I like, but it’s still too frilly.” I tugged on the fancy skirt. “I want something simple.”

  “That’s what your fiancé probably said when he proposed, huh?” Angelina’s eyes gleamed. “Who’s the lucky fellow? Let me guess; did you find a bum on the street and bribe him to get your father off your back? I’ll bet your father is thrilled to get you out from under foot.”

  “She’s engaged to Griffin, you ninny,” Jerry snapped. “You know very well who she’s engaged to.”

  “Seriously? He proposed?” Angelina didn’t look happy with the tidbit. “I guess I should be surprised, but he seems to have legitimately fallen under your spell. How did you do it? Did your brothers threaten him? Did you father bribe him? It probably cost a pre
tty penny, but I’ll bet that’s what happened. Your father came up with a dowry to make sure he wouldn’t be responsible for taking care of you forever, right?”

  “Actually, I bribed him myself,” I retorted. “It only took sex and a lollipop.”

  Jerry cringed. “That was worse than mine, Bug.”

  He was right. Seriously, I was totally off my game today. Most days I can make tossing zingers in Angelina’s direction look effortless. Today, though, I clearly had other things on my mind.

  “Yes, well, I have what I came for.” Angelina held up a small garment bag by way of proof. “I have better things to do than hang around with you losers. In fact, I have a very important meeting. I should be going.”

  “Wait, we haven’t come up with any good insults yet,” Jerry groused. “You can’t leave.”

  “Write them down and have them ready for next time,” Angelina suggested, cackling to herself as she swept toward the front door. “Don’t worry, Aisling. I’m sure Griffin will realize his mistake before the wedding. If he doesn’t, I’ll be on the lookout to make him feel better after the wedding.”

  I knew exactly what she meant by the insult, but she was already gone before I could think of a quip. “Son of a … !”

  “Maybe we need some sugar or something,” Jerry suggested. “I’m sure we’ll think of loads of things to insult her with once we’re riding high on mocha frappes.”

  I’d had worse offers. “Okay, but I have to get out of this dress. I can’t believe she beat both of us. It must be a full moon or something.”

  “Not for a couple days. What? You know I keep track of that stuff. Astrology is more than just magic in paragraph form.”

  I heaved a sigh. “We definitely need sugar.”

  “We’ll get some of those cake pops, too.”

  The day was already looking up. “Just let me change.”

  4

  FOUR

  “Stop pouting, Bug. You’ll get her next time.”

  An hour later, Jerry and I sat at a window booth in one of our favorite coffee shops as he flipped through a bridal magazine and I stewed about the lame insults I came up with when faced with Angelina’s stupid face.