Grim Rising (Aisling Grimlock Book 7)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “This place is cool,” I offered, flopping into one of the retro chairs by the window so I could enjoy the open floor plan and ambiance. “It’s kind of like being king and looking down on your subjects, huh?”

  Spencer scalded me with a dark look. “I hardly think now is the time to talk about that. I think we have a bigger problem.”

  “I know.” I thought that, too. “Do you believe in zombies?” I had no idea why I was having this discussion with Spencer, but the possibility had been weighing on me all day. “My boyfriend thinks I’m losing my mind, but I think zombies are a definite possibility.”

  The look on Spencer’s face was straight out of a bad sitcom. “Is this some sort of prank? Did Chad send you here to mess with me?”

  “I have no idea who Chad is.”

  “He’s my consort.”

  I pursed my lips. “Really? You use the word ‘consort,’ but it’s bad form for me to discuss you thinking of Ferndale as your kingdom. That seems kind of messed up.”

  “This whole thing is messed up,” Spencer snapped. “I am not dead. It’s simply impossible.”

  “You’re dead.” I tilted my head toward the counter. “I think you did a bit too much blow and your heart couldn’t take it. You know, it’s not my place to tell you what to do with your life – and it’s too late to change anything – but if I had a view like this I’d actually work out at the gym so I could live longer and enjoy it. You had everything, but decided to shorten your life. What’s up with that?”

  “I am not dead!”

  “So … you don’t want to answer my question?”

  Spencer made an exaggerated face and gave his crumpled body on the floor a wide berth as his soul floated closer. “It was just a little pick-me-up. I certainly didn’t think this would be the outcome. If I apologize, can I take it back?”

  “No. Dead is dead.” Unless you’re my mother, I silently added. She died and came back to life. Sure, she didn’t technically die. Someone faked her death and turned her into a half-wraith and she probably eats people when she’s hungry, but this was hardly the time to discuss that. “Sorry. You screwed up. If it’s any consolation, drug offenses don’t get you sent to a bad place. You’re going to a good place. I checked.”

  I thought the information would make Spencer feel better, but I was wrong. “I don’t want to be dead.”

  “No?” I cocked an eyebrow as I scanned his outfit. “Did you have big Valentine’s Day plans? You know that’s still like a week away, right?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “You’re dressed as cupid.”

  “So?”

  “So that’s a Valentine’s Day thing, right? Speaking of that, what do you get your fiancé for Valentine’s Day? He got me a big ring for Christmas, and even though he thinks I’m crazy because I’m convinced zombies are about to invade I feel as if I should get him a special gift for Valentine’s Day. It only seems fair.”

  “Are you seriously asking me about shopping?” Spencer was dumbfounded. “Just because I’m gay – and you can’t tell just by looking at me, so it must say it on that stupid iPad you’re carrying – that doesn’t mean I’m an expert shopper. Do you know how prejudiced that is?”

  “I’m not prejudiced. I love gay people. My best friend is gay.”

  “Oh, please,” Spencer scoffed. “Is your best friend also black? Now you can say you’re not racist.”

  “What are you even talking about?” I was too tired to get animated, so I leaned back in the chair. “I’m not prejudiced or racist. I assumed you were gay because you have the new Converse gay pride shoes.” I gestured toward the high tops on the floor. “Jerry has those, too.”

  “Oh.” Spencer had the grace to be abashed. “Is Jerry your best friend?”

  I nodded. “Since kindergarten.”

  “Does he believe in zombies, too?”

  “I haven’t really talked to him about it,” I replied. “It only became a point of discussion after dinner last night.”

  “How?”

  “I was attacked by a zombie in Royal Oak when we were leaving Marino’s on Main Street.”

  “Oh, they have a delightful spaghetti squash pasta with low-calorie marinara that is to die for.” Spencer adopted a wistful expression. “I guess I’ll never get to eat that again.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m guessing Heaven has good food. It wouldn’t be Heaven without brownies, right?”

  “True.”

  “As for spaghetti squash pasta, that’s not really pasta. You know that, don’t you?”

  “No, but it’s delicious, and without all of those yucky carbohydrates.”

  I glanced back at the counter, confused. “So carbohydrates are bad, but cocaine is good? By the way, when did cocaine come back into fashion? I thought it was all about meth and opiates now.”

  “You seem to know a lot about the drug trade for someone who claims she doesn’t partake,” Spencer said dryly.

  “I live with a cop.”

  “Your fiancé?”

  I nodded. “He’s a good guy, although he doesn’t believe in zombies. He tells me about a lot of his cases, and drugs are often involved.”

  “Is he vice?”

  “Homicide.”

  “Is that better or worse?”

  That was an interesting question. “I think he’s the type of person who needs to help others, so he’s where he’s supposed to be.”

  “With you?” Spencer offered up a soft smile. “You seem pretty unhappy for someone sporting a new engagement ring.”

  “I’m not unhappy. I’m … edgy.”

  “Because you believe the zombie apocalypse is upon us and you won’t be able to have your dream wedding?”

  “Maybe. I’m more interested in having a dream marriage than a dream wedding, but that’s not my big concern right now. That was my big concern yesterday. I thought Griffin – that’s his name, by the way – wasn’t going to get what he wanted when he married me, but now I realize that’s stupid. Who wouldn’t want me?”

  “You’re very cute,” Spencer confirmed. “If I rolled that way, I’d totally roll on top of you.”

  “That’s possibly very flattering.”

  “So now you’re worried about zombies, huh?” Spencer made a tsking sound as he considered my conundrum. “I’ll have to side with your fiancé on this one. I don’t think zombies are real.”

  “Did you think grim reapers were real before I showed up to transport your soul to its final resting place?”

  “Good point,” Spencer conceded. “I’d have to say no on that one, but I still think reapers are more realistic than zombies. I mean … zombies? They’d decay and fall apart before taking over the world. We all know that.”

  “Maybe the zombies aren’t the same as those we see on television,” I suggested, doing my best not to stare at the way the diaper dipped low on the body’s hip. I could almost see the Holy Grail, although I had no interest in catching a glimpse of cupid’s special arrow. “The medical examiner said that the man died a month ago. A body could probably hold together for that long under the right circumstances, right?”

  “I’m not a doctor.”

  “No, but you’re free with your body,” I teased, grinning when Spencer attempted to shift behind the couch so I couldn’t see so much of him.

  “This was for a special occasion,” Spencer explained. “I was going to be cupid for Chad.”

  “And where is he?”

  “I don’t know.” Spencer shrugged. “He was supposed to show up last night. I guess he forgot.”

  “Does he have a key?”

  “No. I got burned on that too many times and was tired of paying for new locks,” Spencer replied. “He seemed fine not having one.”

  “Maybe he was here,” I suggested. “Maybe you were passed out and didn’t hear him knock.” I liked Spencer. He was a bit theatrical, but in a good way, like Jerry. I didn’t want him to needlessly suffer. “Maybe he’s sitting at
home right now worrying about you.”

  “You think he showed up after I died?” Spencer was obviously relieved at the possibility.

  “Not died,” I clarified. “I showed up right after you died. I’m guessing you could’ve been unconscious and fighting for your life for hours before then. You probably wouldn’t have woken no matter how hard he knocked.”

  “That’s kind of sad.” Spencer wrinkled his nose. “Do you think I was brave during my fight?”

  “I think you were unconscious and your body did most of the work,” I replied. “Still, I think it’s sad you died so young. Are you even twenty-five yet?”

  “Thirty. I get a lot of Botox.”

  “Oh, well … .” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. “The cupid outfit is a nice touch, though. Very special. I’m sure you and Chad would’ve had a lovely Valentine’s Day celebration.”

  “Oh, this wasn’t for Valentine’s Day,” Spencer explained. “This was just because I like the outfit.”

  Of course. I should’ve seen that coming. “What were you going to do for Valentine’s Day?”

  “That’s private.”

  “Fine. Forget I asked.”

  “I won’t tell you exactly what, but I will tell you that it had a cirque du soleil theme.”

  My head went to a very scary place. “Okay, well, thanks for the talk.” I pushed myself to a standing position. “Believe it or not, I feel better about the zombie thing. Maybe Griffin is right. Maybe the medical examiner simply made a mistake. Maybe the cold temperatures made him see something that wasn’t there … or vice versa.”

  “There you go.” Spencer brightened. “You seem to be in a better mood. Somehow … lighter.”

  “I am.”

  “Great,” Spencer enthused, miming clapping his ghostly hands. “Does this mean you’ll reverse my death? I promise to clean up my act if you do. I only did the coke because I was looking for an energy booster. I’ll switch to caffeine from now on. I promise.” He crossed a finger over his chest.

  “I’m a reaper, not God.”

  “I know, but … .”

  “I’m sorry.” I really was. “I don’t have the power to bring you back. I don’t think anyone does.”

  “Well, that bites.” Spencer’s face fell. “That means we’re going to have one heck of a busy afternoon.”

  I pursed my lips, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you have to get anything and everything that might even hint that I’m gay out of here,” Spencer replied. “My mother doesn’t know, and she can’t find out this way.”

  I was understandably incredulous. “No way.”

  “Do you want to be responsible for her death?” Spencer’s voice ratcheted up a notch. “My mother is a good woman, but she doesn’t understand things like this.”

  “So you never told her?” I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d managed to hide it. I thought that unless his mother was blind and deaf she had to know. “I think you’re probably mistaken on this one.”

  “She tried to set me up with a friend’s daughter two weeks ago.”

  Hmm. “Well … .”

  “She’s known as the country club slut in my parents’ circle.”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  “You have to help me get this stuff out of here,” Spencer pleaded. “At least the big stuff. I mean … you can leave the shoes. She won’t know what those are. I have a goody drawer in the other room. If she sees that stuff … um … it will be Aneurysm City.”

  He had to be joking. “If you think I’m hauling your sex toys out of here, you’ve got another think coming.”

  “Please.”

  His expression was so hopeful, so desperate, that I couldn’t stop myself from agreeing. “Fine. But I want you to know this is even worse than being overrun by zombies.”

  “I have absolutely no doubt.”

  THREE HOURS LATER I heaved a garbage bag full of … well, I’d rather not say what it was full of … into a Dumpster behind a Grosse Pointe bar that I occasionally frequented with my family. I knew the owner, and if he questioned what I was doing I’d have to answer him. He knew me well enough not ask certain questions, though, which was why I decided to dump Spencer’s toy collection close to Grimlock Manor.

  The lot was packed, so I had to park on the street. I kept my eyes open during the short trek between the Dumpster and my car. I was almost completely over my zombie fixation. Who knew it would take a nice guy with bad drug habits in a cupid costume to do it? I certainly didn’t see it coming.

  I fobbed the lock on my door and opened it, sliding behind the wheel and putting my key in the ignition before something caught my eye in the rearview mirror. I kept the car in park as the engine roared to life and took extra time to fasten my seatbelt.

  A blue sedan was parked behind me, about two car lengths between us, and a broad-shouldered figure sat behind the wheel. The individual didn’t move to exit the car or leave the street. Even though I couldn’t see a face, I was convinced that the man was focused on me.

  I stayed where I was for a long time, my eyes glued to the window. The figure shifted, although only slightly, but otherwise remained still, as if waiting for me to make the first move. I considered locking the doors and settling in, refusing to leave until he did.

  I exhaled heavily as I made my decision and pulled onto the road, internally sighing when the car remained where it was. I was at the stop sign at the end of the street, a white car behind me, when I noticed the car pull into traffic heading in the same direction.

  I tried to remain calm as I pulled onto my father’s street, opting to take a random turn into the neighborhood as a test. Sure enough, the blue sedan followed. It didn’t get too close, always keeping several car lengths between us, but after another four turns it was more than obvious that I was being followed.

  I chewed on my bottom lip as I returned to my father’s street and headed toward Grimlock Manor. This time I increased my pace, practically flying into the gated parking area in front of my father’s house.

  I bounced out of the car and hurried to the gate, looking through the mechanically controlled mechanism’s slats in an attempt to see the driver. The sedan was gone. I couldn’t see it from my vantage point. That didn’t stop me from believing that it was definitely following me. I had no doubt about that. The question floating through my brain was the obvious one: Why?

  9

  NINE

  I was still staring through the front gate, determined to catch sight of the sedan so I could get a better look at the driver, when my brother Cillian sidled up beside me.

  “Are you considering making a break for it?”

  Of all my brothers, Cillian is the calmest and most rational. When I’m in a dour mood, he’s the one I gravitate toward. “If I was going to run I wouldn’t have pulled into the driveway first.”

  “So what are we looking at?” Cillian positioned himself so he could follow my gaze. He wasn’t wearing a coat, which meant he must’ve spied my antics from inside and come out to investigate.

  “I thought someone might’ve been following me.” I saw no reason to lie. If something was about to go down there’d be no keeping my father and brothers out of it.

  “Really?” Cillian arched an eyebrow, sobering. “Why? Did you have a run-in with someone today?”

  “No, but I did clear the sex toys out of a guy’s drawer because his mother didn’t know he was gay. He was dressed like cupid and wearing an adult diaper.”

  “Huh. Like a Depends diaper?”

  “More like a loin cloth made of white fabric. He had huge plastic safety pins holding it together. It was really distracting.”

  “You know, you wouldn’t have these problems if you’d just absorb the soul before talking to it,” Cillian pointed out. “Dad doesn’t like it when we talk to them.”

  “Well, Dad wasn’t there, and I kind of felt sorry for him. He had one of those really cool lofts in downtown Ferndale.”

&
nbsp; “Was that Spencer Markham? I figured he was one of the rich Markhams we occasionally run into at those charity events Dad makes us attend when I saw his name on the list.”

  “Yeah. He snorted a bunch of cocaine and died. It’s too bad. I liked him.”

  “Well, at least you helped him by getting rid of his stash.” Cillian’s handsome face split with a wide grin. “Do you think someone was following you because they wanted the toys?”

  “I’m not sure anyone was really following me,” I said. “It seemed like he was but … maybe I was wrong.”

  “He?”

  “I don’t even know that it was a he,” I conceded. “I couldn’t see his face. He had broad shoulders, though, and he followed me through four turns in the neighborhood. Four unnecessary turns, I might add. If he was going someplace and coincidentally following me he must have a negative sense of direction.”

  “Like you?”

  “Ha, ha.” I elbowed his side, my hand accidentally brushing against his. I felt the cold permeating his skin right away. “We should probably go inside.”

  “That’s a smart idea.” Cillian slung his arm around my shoulders as we trudged toward the front door. “You seem down, Ais. What’s going on?”

  “What makes you think anything is going on?”

  “You’ve been pretty happy the last couple of weeks,” Cillian replied. “You’ve been doing that ‘floating-on-air’ thing I hear about happening to engaged people. I didn’t believe it until I saw you do it. Now you’re … down.”

  “I’m not down,” I corrected, following Cillian into the ornate foyer. “I’m just … distracted.” Something occurred to me. “Do you ever worry you’re doing Maya a disservice because of what we do for a living?”

  Maya, Griffin’s sister, was Cillian’s girlfriend, so the question caught him off guard. “No. Do you feel that way?”

  “Griffin says I’m being ridiculous because he’s known about the reaper business from the start, but I can’t shake the feeling that maybe he deserves something better.”