Grim Rising (Aisling Grimlock Book 7)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I need medicine.”

  My mind hopped to the bag in her purse. “Are you trying to find a holistic cure for menopause?”

  “I don’t have menopause.” Angelina’s eyes flared with hatred, and for the first time since I sat down with her I recognized my longtime nemesis.

  “Then what’s going on?” I swallowed half of my drink as the unthinkable occurred to me. “Are you … sick?”

  “Not me.”

  “Who?”

  “My mother.” Angelina tilted her glass back and drank until there was nothing left. “She has cancer. The doctors say she’ll be dead in three months. I was hoping – no, praying – that the voodoo lady would be able to help me. But I don’t think she can. It’s … too late. The doctor says it’s too late.”

  And just like that, my anger and dislike gave way to pity and compassion. How did that happen?

  22

  TWENTY-TWO

  “What?”

  I wanted to have misheard her. I wanted her to say it was a joke and she was just trying to make me feel sorry for her. I wanted her to do something – anything really – that would alleviate the big ball of sympathy building in my gut.

  Instead a tear slid down her face, and I thought I was going to have to punch someone. Angelina was crying, so I couldn’t very well punch her. Of course, that wouldn’t stop me from trying to find a way around that pesky little detail. She was Angelina, after all. She’d earned more than her fair share of punches.

  “She’s dying. Breast cancer.”

  “But … .” I searched my memory for the last time I saw Angelina’s mother. It was years ago. “They must be able to do something.”

  “It’s stage four. Metastasized. With more chemotherapy they might be able to prolong her life, but only for a few months. She doesn’t want to do it because her quality of life would be poor.”

  I could see that. Who wants to linger when you can do nothing but lie in a bed and torture the people who love you? Even I couldn’t find joy in that. “I’m … sorry.” I honestly meant it. “So you went to the voodoo shop for a magical cure?”

  “I’m desperate. She’s all I have left.”

  “What about your father?”

  “My father is not like your father,” Angelina said, pointing at her glass so Woody would refill it. “He left when I was in elementary school. I saw him once a year after that. Once I turned eighteen and he no longer had to pay child support, he took off. He’s in Ireland now. He sent me a Christmas card two years ago. It was a photo of him and his new wife … and young sons. It had a generic ‘Wishing you the best this holiday season’ message and a signature I couldn’t even read.”

  Oh, well, that was just … unbelievable. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Why would you? It’s not as if we ever talk.”

  “That’s your fault.”

  “Yes, because you’re completely innocent in the situation,” Angelina drawled.

  I risked a glance over my shoulder and found Griffin and Dad watching me, perhaps waiting for me to make a scene. They were engaged in conversation but very aware of my actions. “I’m not taking responsibility for the relationship you created,” I said after a beat. “You started all of this.”

  “And you always finish it, don’t you?”

  She wasn’t wrong. “I’m sorry about your mother. I never liked her – I figured she was the reason you were so evil – but I understand that you love her.”

  “I do love her,” Angelina confirmed, smiling as Woody slipped a fresh glass in front of her. “She’s difficult and almost always impossible to deal with, but I love her.”

  Given the way I interacted with my brothers, I understood that. “So what happens now?”

  “I watch her die.” Angelina was so matter of fact, so ravaged with pain, it tugged at my heart. “She’s in the hospital until Friday. Then she’ll come home for a few months. I had to hire a nurse to help because I can’t leave my job for an extended period.”

  Angelina was a real estate agent, so she kept odd hours. “And then what? Do you just wait for her to die?”

  “Yes.”

  I hated Angelina. That would never change. Still, the idea of her sitting by her mother’s bedside and waiting for the woman to die sounded horrendous. I couldn’t imagine going through the same thing with my father. But even if it happened, I had four brothers to share the burden, to lean on when things got rough. I also had Jerry and Griffin. Suddenly, my life seemed very full – as did my heart.

  “Madame Dauphine couldn’t help you?”

  “Apparently not. She had some spiel about prolonging Mom’s life, but I didn’t believe her. I think I only went in there because I was desperate.”

  “And you’re not buying curses to raise the dead to send after me, right?” What? I had to be sure.

  “I don’t even know what that means,” Angelina growled.

  “Forget it.” I waved off my suspicion. Angelina was clearly dealing with her own problems. I was barely a blip on her radar screen. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your mother.”

  “Why? You always hated her.”

  “Yes, but you’re obviously in pain. When I cause you pain, I enjoy it. This is … different.”

  “It’s final,” Angelina noted, slurring just a bit. “It’s final, and when it’s over, there will be no going back.”

  As a reaper, I knew that very well. “Yeah.”

  “Except your mother came back from the dead,” Angelina said, her red-rimmed eyes flicking to me. “How did you manage that?”

  “I didn’t manage that,” I replied. “She didn’t really die.” I shifted on the stool, uncomfortable. “I can’t get into specifics with you, but we only thought she was dead. She was kept someplace else for a long time … changed … and then escaped. She’s not the same mother she used to be.”

  “And yet you have her. She’s here. Maybe I could do the same thing for my mother.”

  I grabbed Angelina’s wrist and dug my fingernails in, ignoring the way she cried out as I forced her eyes to me. “You don’t want that!”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Angelina snapped, yanking her hand back. “You have your mother. You’re not about to be forced into a lonely world by yourself. You have your brothers … and your father … and Griffin, who very clearly must be mentally ill to love you, but is hot and seems to adore you, so it can be overlooked. You also have Jerry the Fairy.”

  “I feel sorry for you, but I will smack the crap out of you all the same,” I warned.

  Angelina ignored the threat. “You’ll never be alone. People love you even though you’re terrible … and you have stupid hair.”

  “My hair is awesome,” I countered. “And … I’m sure someone must love you.”

  “Only my mother.”

  “Well, adjust your attitude and see if that changes,” I suggested. “As for what you said … you don’t want that for your mother. I know you can’t see it right now – it hurts too much and you’re clouded by grief – but sometimes dead is better.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you wish your mother never came back?”

  Did I? I wasn’t sure. “I wish the woman who came back was the one we’d lost. She’s not. She never will be.”

  “But you have something of her,” Angelina pressed. “You have her back. That has to mean something.”

  “It does, but not what you think. You can’t understand because you’re drowning in bitterness and regret, things that are eating you alive. Don’t focus on that. Focus on spending time with your mother.”

  I grabbed the glass from her and handed it to Woody, ignoring Angelina’s protests. “Get her a cab, Woody. Don’t give her any more to drink.”

  Woody nodded before focusing on Angelina. “How about some coffee, huh?”

  I didn’t hang around for Angelina’s answer, instead hopping off the stool and moving back to the booth. I ran into Dad halfway t
here, taking him by surprise when I gave him a bear hug and buried my face in his neck.

  “What’s this?” Dad’s eyes filled with concern as he tilted my chin up. “What did she say to you? Do you want me to send Jerry over to pull her hair?”

  I shook my head as I fought off tears. “Leave her alone.”

  Dad arched an eyebrow. “Leave her alone? Are you feeling okay?” He pressed a hand to my forehead.

  “No. I’m not feeling okay. Leave her alone all the same.”

  “Okay.” Dad smoothed my hair. “What’s wrong?”

  “I have it good.”

  Dad chuckled, amused. “You do, but that’s no reason to cry.”

  “No, but it’s a reason to be grateful.” I forced a smile for his benefit. “Come on. I’ll talk Woody into letting Jerry sing karaoke once he gets Angelina out of here. I promise that will be entertaining.”

  Dad returned the smile. “That sounds fine.”

  He probably wouldn’t say that when he realized Jerry was on a Cyndi Lauper kick, but there were worse ways to spend an evening.

  GRIFFIN LEFT ME in Dad’s capable hands the next morning. We talked a bit about what I discovered regarding Angelina, but he wisely left me to ponder the meaning of life on my own before handing me off to Dad. They both seemed a bit worried over breakfast, but neither pressed me too hard.

  Once we were trapped in a vehicle together and heading toward the voodoo shop, Dad changed his tune.

  “I know you’re upset about what Angelina told you … .”

  “I’m not upset,” I clarified, cutting him off. “I’m just ... um … surprised.”

  “No, you’re upset,” Dad argued. “You’re upset because you feel bad for Angelina. That goes against your very DNA.”

  “She said some things.”

  “Like?”

  “Like I didn’t understand how it was to be her because I would never be alone,” I replied, resting my cheek against the cold passenger side window as the cityscape blurred on the other side of the glass. “I never really thought about it before. She was evil and that’s all I cared about. I never wondered what happened to her father. I never thought about her not having any brothers or sisters. Even that gaggle of horrible tarts she hung out with in high school isn’t around. She truly is alone.”

  “And you never will be.” Dad parked in a city-owned lot not far from Voodoo Vacation. He waited for me to join him at the front of the car before speaking again. “It’s okay to feel bad for Angelina and still hate her at the same time. She’s been terrible to you over the years.”

  “She called Jerry a fairy again and I didn’t even punch her in the face.”

  Dad took sympathy on me as he slipped his arm around my shoulders. “That must have been hard on you.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “It’s not your fault that she’s going to be alone,” Dad noted. “You didn’t create the situation.”

  “No, but it’s a mess all the same.” We lapsed into silence as we walked across the parking lot. “I love you, Daddy.” I don’t know what made me say it, but I was overwhelmed by the urge and gave in.

  “Oh, geez,” Dad groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to have to buy you something before we go, aren’t I?”

  I shook my head. “No. I just wanted to say it.”

  “Well, thank you.” Dad gave my shoulder a squeeze before reaching for the store’s door handle. “I love you, too.”

  Dad entered first, taking a long look at the display shelves and décor before focusing on the woman behind the counter. Instead of giving her the beady eye and terrorizing her – which is why I wanted him with me on this little excursion – he broke into a wide smile. “Evelyn?”

  Evelyn? I wrinkled my nose as I glanced between faces.

  “Oh my … Cormack?” Madame Dauphine wiped her hands on a towel before sliding out from behind the counter and heading in our direction. She completely ignored me as she barreled past, throwing her arms around Dad’s neck as he chuckled.

  “I can’t believe it’s you,” Dad said once he released her, a warm smile splitting his handsome face. “When Aisling mentioned that she thought the woman running this store was trying to emulate Marie Laveau it never even clicked.”

  “Well, I always enjoyed reading about her,” Dauphine said, leading Dad toward the counter. I noticed she’d dropped the accent and faux French phrases. “I just brewed a fresh pot of tea. Would you like some?”

  “I would love some.” Dad took one of the stools at the counter, completely forgetting me. “How long has it been?”

  “Well, it was right before graduation,” Dauphine said. “That was more than thirty years ago, right?”

  “You don’t look a day older.”

  “Oh, you always had the charm.” Dauphine lightly tapped Dad’s forearm as I openly gaped and glanced between them. “Do you want tea, dear?” Dauphine’s expression wasn’t nearly as friendly as she focused on me.

  “I’ll pass.”

  “Aisling, don’t be rude.” Dad’s voice was low and full of warning. “Madame Dauphine is an old friend.”

  “Don’t you mean Evelyn?”

  Dad ignored me. “So how did you end up here? When we graduated, I thought you were heading off to New Orleans.”

  “Oh, I spent years in New Orleans,” Dauphine said, handing Dad a mug of tea. “I love the city and the culture. I plan to go back eventually, but I got homesick and decided to open a shop here for a bit. I’ve been back about six months.”

  “You should’ve called me when you hit town, Evie. I would’ve loved to see you.”

  Oh, now it was Evie? Someone grab me a puke bucket.

  “I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea,” Dauphine said. “Last time I saw Lily she tried to pull my hair out in one big clump. She never got over the fact that we dated before you two got together. I told her it was in the past, but she wouldn’t believe me. And when I heard that she died it seemed somehow … disrespectful … to contact you.”

  What a load of horsepucky. Wait a second … . “You dated each other?” Yup. I definitely needed a puke bucket.

  “It was long before you came into my life.” Dad spared me a dark look. “And, yes, we dated.”

  “For two years.” Dauphine beamed at Dad, giving me the impression she’d like to pick up exactly where they left off. “It was the best two years of my life.”

  Oh, puke. I didn’t say that out loud. “Puke.” Okay, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and said it out loud.

  Dad flicked my ear to quiet me. “Don’t be a pain, Aisling. Evie is a good friend. There’s no reason for your attitude.”

  “She sent zombies after me,” I exploded.

  Dad’s cheeks colored as he flashed an embarrassed smile in Dauphine’s direction. “Stop saying that.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Yes, this isn’t the first time she’s stopped in. I’ve been a little confused by her motivations,” Dauphine said. “First she was chasing some poor girl while accusing her of doing it, and then she accused me of some odd things.”

  “Poor girl? Angelina?”

  “You just spent thirty minutes telling me how sorry you feel for Angelina,” Dad interjected.

  “I didn’t use those exact words.”

  “Shut your mouth, Aisling,” Dad ordered, his eyes fixed on Dauphine. “I’m sorry about her. She’s had a rough couple of weeks.”

  “Yes, I read that in her aura,” Dauphine said. “She’s … troubled.”

  Dad flicked his eyes to me. “Are you troubled?”

  “Did you not hear the ‘puke’ comment?”

  Dad made a face. “Ignore her. She’s in a mood.”

  “She’s your daughter,” Dauphine teased. “I’ll bet she’s always in a mood. Although, to be fair, I didn’t realize she was your daughter when I first saw her. I knew there was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. She looks just like you.”

  “Ther
e are four more at home who do the same.”

  “You have five children?” Dauphine’s eyebrows flew up her forehead. “That sounds like a busy life. You and Lily must’ve had your hands full.”

  “Yes.”

  “And how are things since Lily passed?”

  Dad and I exchanged a weighted look. “Different,” Dad answered carefully, shooting a warning look in my direction before continuing. He clearly didn’t want to share private family information with his good friend Evie. “It’s very complicated. But that’s not why we’re here. We actually came for information.”

  “About zombies?” Dauphine’s eyes lit with mirth.

  “Something is going on,” Dad said. “Seventeen bodies have been discovered over the past few months, and all of them suffered from the same malady.”

  “Which is?”

  “They were dead and still walking around,” I answered. “That means they were zombies. Laugh all you want, but I’m right.”

  Dauphine stared at me for a long moment. “Okay.”

  “While I don’t share Aisling’s enthusiasm for the subject, something is clearly going on,” Dad said. “I don’t suppose you can shed light on the topic?”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I don’t know anything about raising the dead. I’m a voodoo practitioner, but I tend to straddle a mainstream line. I considered dabbling when I was younger, but never really embraced the dark arts. You know that.”

  “I do.” Dad’s expression was thoughtful. “So, tell me what you’ve been up to the past thirty years.”

  And just like that, he completely shoved my zombie problem aside and focused on his own needs. The love I felt only minutes before evaporated.

  “You’re going to have to buy me ten things for me to keep quiet about this,” I hissed.

  Dad’s expression didn’t change. “Fine. Go … look around … while we catch up.” He waved his hand to dismiss me.

  “Ten expensive things,” I pressed.

  “Ignore her, Evie,” Dad admonished. “She’s not much of a morning person.”

  “She doesn’t seem to be much of an afternoon person either,” Dauphine noted.

  “She’s … tempestuous,” Dad said.