Grim

by Thea Atkinson

  I didn't want to think of the man who had carried me out of that same crypt and swiped the tears from my cheek when I had broken down. I still carried the look of his eyes in my mind, and the way his black hair had turned grey from the dust. The stubble on his chin had carried the remnants of cobwebs.

  It was far easier for my regular mindset to believe the worst. It had been proven right so many times, I'd be a fool not to heed it. I lifted my chin, watching for Callum's reaction, daring him to be anything but the same kind of person as those women from the night before who are always so ready to accuse me.

  He watched me silently for a long moment, and I let the dare show in my gaze. I wasn't sure what reaction I wanted from him, maybe I was testing him the same as I had done Gramp for so many years. But whatever reaction I hoped for was not the one I received. Instead of responding to my inquisitive look with support, he dropped his fork back onto his plate and looked up at me.

  I thought my heart might stop for a moment as those green eyes landed on me. I thought he might confess to me, bring me into his circle of trust. I held my breath as I waited.

  "I don't want to talk about it," he said flatly, and in that moment, I knew that even after all we'd been through in the crypt, he still saw me as a kid.

  I struggled to find the words to retaliate, and when they wouldn't come I dropped my plate onto the table and spun on my heel.

  I shrugged into a jean jacket. The words stung. Almost as much as the way my calf burned where the brand had been set. Except this pain had struck me somewhere different. My throat ached with it.

  "I'll be back later, Gramp."

  Gramp stood with his fingers on the table top. I could see by his face that he was worried, that he wasn't sure how to ask me to stay home.

  "I'm fine," I said, purposefully avoiding Callum's eye. "You don't have to worry."

  "Ayla," Callum said, and I held up my hand.

  "I'm fine," I insisted. "I'm going to see Sarah." I couldn't meet his gaze, couldn't even look at his hands as they fidgeted on the table, tapping the butt of his fork against the plate.

  Instead I looked at Gramp. His eyes trailed down to the table and I thought for a moment he might argue with me. I didn't really want to have to defy him, but if Callum had told him everything then he would surely understand why I had to go. As usual, he surprised me.

  "I have something for her," he said and followed me into the hallway, rustling through one of the drawers along the pass-through counter. He came out with a bag made of soft leather and tied with what looked like a root of some kind.

  "What's this?"

  He wouldn't look me in the eye as he put it into my hand. "She'll know what it is," he said.

  I gave him a conspiratorial glance. "Is this pot?" I said, teasing. When he met my gaze I could see that he was worrying his lip with his top teeth.

  "What's wrong?" I said.

  He finally looked at me and his black eyes beneath those bushy silver eyebrows looked even more piercing than normal.

  "If you can do anything for her, do it," he said. "But know what it is you're doing."

  "How much did Callum tell you?"

  "Enough to make me nervous," Gramp said.

  I shook the bag in my hand. It didn't feel like it was full of anything at all. There were no marbles rolling around in it and it didn't feel as though there was anything as gritty as sand and yet it kept its shape as though it was blown up like a balloon.

  Over his shoulder I could see Callum watching me and the sight of those green eyes made me flick my gaze back to Gramp because he looked too intent, as though he was going to grab me by the elbows and throw me against the wall. I squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of it because I wasn't sure whether I wanted him to do it or not. Even my throat ached when I looked at him.

  "I'll take my scooter," I mumbled. "And I'll try not to be late. I'll call you from the hospital."

  Gramp leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the top of my hair. "Such beautiful red hair," he murmured. "Just like your mother's."

  He never spoke of mom. Neither did I. She was a silent partner in my tenure here. I knew if he mentioned her at all, he must be feeling more anxious than he wanted to admit. I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly. The smell of his Old Spice aftershave washed over me. He made me feel safe and loved. I put everything I couldn't say to him into that embrace.

  He kissed my ear. "Be careful."

  I fled for the door because my eyes were burning and I didn't like the sound of a chair scraping against the tiles of the kitchen floor.

  I yanked the door open and ran to my scooter. The air did wonders for the burning in my eyes. I pulled my helmet on and kicked the scooter to life.

  It was a twenty minute ride to the hospital on Old Yeller because it didn't go as fast as Callum's little beater car. By the time I got there, I expected to see Sarah sitting up in bed or on a chair having supper. What greeted me when I made it to her room was an empty bed all made up. I blinked at it in confusion and then spun on my heel to find reception.

  The young woman behind the counter wore her hair in a braided bun. I thought I could detect a lock of pink in the black. Soft looking blue eyes peered at me from beneath two little curls of hair sprayed into place against her temple. Her mouth made a perfect heart shape and it was even pencilled in at the edges to accentuate the fullness. I felt like a mangy rat crawling out of the gutter looking at her.

  "Has Sarah been released?" I asked her.

  That beautifully painted mouth pressed together and I thought she would refuse to answer. Instead, she lifted her pencil and pointed it toward the room Sarah had occupied. "You mean that girl?" she said in a voice that sounded like honey. Perfect match to the face. Encouraged, I nodded my head.

  "Yes," I said. "We brought her in yesterday."

  "You're family?"

  What was one more lie? "Yes."

  "Then you would know where she is," she said with a conspiratorial look on her face.

  I clenched the counter with anxious fingers. I wasn't sure how to reply, what would make her spill the information and I was about to do something ridiculous when everything in her face softened and her shoulders sagged. A dreamy look came over her face as she looked over my shoulder.

  I didn't need to turn around to know it was Callum but I did. All six feet four of him stood no more than a yard behind me. In the full light of the hospital it was clear exactly how magnificent he was all cleaned up. I hadn't wanted to see it back in Gramp's kitchen because I knew deep down the reason for the ache in my throat. I was attracted to him. I wanted him. And he thought I was nothing but a kid.

  I felt him standing behind me.

  "Where did they put her, Faye?" he said.

  Whatever obligation had kept Faye from telling me where they had put Sarah, seemed to disappear in the face of Callum's brooding stature. Or maybe it was those piercing green eyes. Or it could be the way those rakish looks of his made a girl ignore her own instincts.

  "This is official business, right?" she said but didn't wait for him to answer. "She's on the fourth floor."

  One black eyebrow cocked and his mouth twitched. I saw a blush creep up Faye's neck under that look, and I wondered for a second if the two of them had known each other more intimately than either of them were letting on. It certainly seemed it by the way Faye was twisting her fingers together over the pencil.

  "Fourth floor?" I said, taking in the way Faye had taken to leaning over the counter, the swell of her bosom visible over the starched white neck line of her uniform. "Why did they move her?"

  I felt Callum move up next to me and had to struggle to remain in my spot without bolting away. I had just faced down a doppelgänger, for heaven sake. Surely I could stand next to him without turning to water.

  It was obvious from Faye's face that she didn't like the way he stood just a little too close to me. I felt his shoulder brush against mine and I had the feeling that if I would look up, he would be tower
ing over me with a glower on his face. I wrapped my fingers around the bag in my jean jacket pocket, reminding myself that I was here for a reason. And it had nothing to do with getting close to the brooding hulk next to me.

  "What's the fourth floor?" I said.

  Callum reached his hand across the counter and plucked the pencil from Faye's fingers. He pulled the clipboard across the counter and scribbled something down on the paper. Then he pushed it back at Faye.

  "I'm the one that pulled her out of there," he said.

  Faye nodded. "Everyone's talking about it," she said. "It'll be nice to know whether or not she set that fire."

  She looked at me with a strange glint in her eye. "Isn't that Tulley's granddaughter?" She took the pencil back from Callum, and I noticed that her fingers trailed up his wrist as she did so. "I mean," she said, holding my gaze while talking to Callum. "Everyone figured it would be her. Who would've thought some stranger would do it?"

  Callum shrugged but I noticed he didn't pull his hand away. For some reason, I couldn't tear my eyes from the way Faye's fingers still touched his fingertips against the counter.

  I cleared my throat, maybe just a little too aggressively. When they both shot a look my way, I barked out one word. "Sarah."

  Faye's entire demeanor changed then. She looked irritated. "Fourth floor, I said." Then she jerked her chin toward the elevators. "Mental health unit." I swallowed and squared my shoulders as I leveled her with a direct stare. "You look a lot nicer than you are," I said and twirled around.

  I'd be damned if I'd thank her, but I noticed Callum did. And to top it off, he said something patronizing about me that sounded an awful lot like: she is a bit prickly. "Teenage hormones and all that," is what he said.

  I fumed the entire way to the elevator and punched the buttons. I stood with my face lifted to the lights above the doors. And even when he came next to me, chuckling as though he had just heard a great joke, I refused to look at him. When the doors opened, I pushed inside and found my way into the corner.

  He stood in the middle and reached out to press the button for the fourth floor. Then he stood there with his hands crossed over his hips. I thought I could detect a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and something burned deep in my chest.

  "Teenage hormones?" I ground out.

  He tapped his foot as though he was listening to some interesting music.

  "Really?" I demanded.

  He swung his head sideways to look at me. "You're pretty determined to screw things up, aren't you?" he said.

  "What do you mean?" I said.

  "I mean you get more flies with honey than with vinegar."

  I snorted. "I've heard that one never before."

  "Well it's true," he said. "People have jobs to do and there are rules to those jobs sometimes. If you want people to give you information that you're not supposed to have, you really need to be nice."

  "I was being nice," I said, stung.

  One of his black brows cocked again. "That's you being nice? You might need a few lessons."

  He was one to talk. I lurched closer so I could poke him in the chest. I seemed to recall a pretty bland refusal to be nice to me back at Gramp's.

  "You might apply that stupid cliche to yourself," I said. I was vaguely aware my finger wasn't jamming into his chest very far.

  As if to prove my suspicions, he tightened his pectoral muscles until they felt like steel bands. The next time I stabbed him, my knuckle bent sideways painfully. I hastily retracted my hand and shoved it in my jeans pocket. A revoltingly arrogant smile twisted his lips. He made a face that was very clearly an expression meant to goad me into daring to do it again. I dug my hands into my pockets. I hated how he made me feel so young and awkward.

  "I was embarrassed," he said finally. "Back at the house. It was an embarrassing story. That's why I didn't want to tell you."

  "I don't care," I muttered. But of course, I did. I just wasn't ready to let him know it meant anything to me.

  He made a little grumbling noise, muttering something about me being difficult and hard to be nice to.

  "Oh because Faye isn't hard to be nice to," I said, feeling a bright bit of fury sinking into my chest.

  He peered down at me. "I've known her a long time."

  "I guessed that." I snorted. I definitely didn't want to know that.

  "You're jealous," he said. I would've expected him to sound surprised or at the very least shocked. But it was a bald statement that somehow found a way to make my chest hurt.

  "I'm not jealous," I said. I crossed my arms over my chest.

  "I'm at least three years older than you," he said. "I know jealousy when I see it."

  I twisted away from him to look at the lights over the door. The elevator had to be a century-old it was so slow. We were only on number three. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. No one was there.

  I thought my silence would give him the hint but it didn't.

  "What do you want from me, Ayla?"

  This time I managed to look at him, and as the doors pulled open at the fourth floor, I faced them with the same direct and bald-faced stare I had given Faye. I didn't care that his expression was pleading and soft and he looked so darned gorgeous it made my tongue feel all tied up and clumsy.

  "I want you to leave me alone," I blurted out and then because I couldn't believe I'd said something so awful, so completely childish, I bolted out the elevator and ran down the hallway even though I had no idea which direction I should be going.

  CHAPTER 13

  He caught up with me in a few easy strides, testament to how quick he was, how long those legs were. Instead of snagging me by the elbow and spinning me around, he swerved around me and put his hand out against the wall, effectively blocking my way unless I dodged around him.

  "You're going the wrong way," he drawled.

  There was a smirk on his face that I dearly wanted to slap off. I even pulled my fist back, clenching my fingers with every intent to let him have it. Instead of punching him, I ended up slapping him on the chest with the flat of my hand. Frustrated, and feeling very inept for as furious as I was.

  "You said she would be sedated so she could sleep," I accused him.

  "That's what I thought," he said. "She was exhausted. Spent. They were going to put fluids in her as far as I understood."

  "Well now she's in some psych unit and it's all your fault. I swear, if she's in a strait jacket..."

  "It's not my fault," he said stressing that last word. "She needed medical care. You couldn't have just brought her home and expected her to do well. She needed to see a doctor."

  "Well now the doctor has put her at risk. You heard her say she wasn't safe here. What if one of those things finds her? What then? You remember what we went through."

  I sidestepped him, fully intending to pass by until I remembered I was going the wrong way. That was when I felt his arm snake out and wrap around my midriff. He pulled me unceremoniously to his side and then pushed me roughly behind his back. His other arm reached around to catch my arm. Pinned, I fumed and struggled to find a way out of his grasp.

  "Stay still," he hissed.

  "What is it?" I said. I tried to twist in his grip and peek around his shoulder, but he was as broad as a wall and about as movable.

  "Sarah," he said. "Tell me that's Sarah." He took a small side step, pulling me out from behind him at the same time so that I could peer up the hallway. As I craned my way around him, I could feel how tense the muscles were in his biceps. He was on guard, wary. But it was her. Thank the gods. I was so relieved to see her, it didn't register that she was supposed to be in a ward room with another patient. And there she stood, not in a hospital gown as I expected, but fully dressed.

  "Sarah," I said. I felt hopeful in the moment. "Are they letting you out?"

  She said nothing. Just blinked at me.

  I felt Callum tug me back into his chest. I came up hard against it as though it was a solid brick w
all, and I had to put my hands out. My palms brushed down his biceps and they quivered beneath my hands.

  "It's not Sarah," he hissed.

  I understood right then. The doppelgänger. Here. At first, I wanted to bolt down the hall, but as I watched it, I noticed it wasn't attacking. That didn't mean it wouldn't.

  "What are we going to do?" I said and pushed myself away from him. The only thing that kept me from tearing down the hall was Callum firm grip on my hand.

  Everything in my body just sort of clenched in fear, but there was something else too and I should have noticed it when we entered the hallway from the elevator. That tingling in my ears. The whistling that sounded as though it was coming from some deep bowel in the earth. But I had been so preoccupied with arguing with Callum, I'd not noticed it. Now that I had, I had no idea how I had let it pass over me unnoticed.

  "I'm not ready," I heard myself say. I knew this was the moment when I had to do something.

  Obviously, we'd not killed it back there in the tunnel. Obviously, Sarah hadn't been able to do anything more than send it laughing somewhere back to its master, whoever that was. If the doppelgänger was here, then she really wasn't safe. And based on what it had done to us back in the tunnel, neither was anyone else.

  "I have to do something," I said and shook myself free of his grip.

  "But it's not moving, Ayla," Callum said. "Maybe Sarah did damage to it. Maybe it doesn't have the strength to hurt us."

  "Or maybe it's taunting me. Or maybe it has already harmed her and is waiting for us to find out."

  Easing forward, my hands in front of me as though in surrender, I started talking to it the way one might a rabid dog. Maybe it would let me pass. Callum snagged me around the waist and stepped up next to me, his arm lying across my chest as though to shield me.

  "That's not smart, Ayla."

  "You know what it did to you last time," I said through gritted teeth. "How are you going to stop it?"