Freaky Deaky Tiki

by Amanda M. Lee

“I said I would wait to talk about it,” I clarified. “I didn’t say I would let it go forever. Besides, she wasn’t acting weird — er, any weirder than normal — until you walked through the door. Now she’s all hot and bothered.”

  “I’m not hot and bothered,” Aisling said, annoyance creeping in. “It’s just ... he smells like ice cream.”

  That was news to me. “Uh-uh. He smells like sweat. He works outside a lot.”

  “No, he smells like ice cream.” Aisling was firm. “Like ice cream with melted caramel on top ... and sprinkles ... and whipped cream ... and maybe some maraschino cherries.”

  Griffin was beside himself. “That’s your favorite ice cream dish.” His eyes were accusatory when they locked with Booker’s more neutral orbs. “What’s going on here?”

  Booker heaved out a sigh and held up one hand as though halting traffic. “It’s not her fault,” he said finally. “I didn’t think a reaper would have this reaction, but it’s probably because it’s the first time she’s been close to me. The initial reaction will fade.”

  “She’s pregnant,” I reminded him. “Her hormones are all out of whack.”

  “Oh, I didn’t consider that.” Booker was intrigued as he leaned forward. “What’s with her eyes? They’re purple.”

  “Her whole family has purple eyes,” Griffin replied, sliding his arm around Aisling’s waist to anchor her to him. “What’s going on?”

  “You have to tell him,” I prodded. “He’s a cop. He’ll probably shoot you if you don’t.”

  “Oh, good grief.” Booker wrinkled his nose. “Listen, it’s a chemical thing. It will be over in five minutes. I have a certain effect on women.”

  “Does he ever,” Lilac drawled, grinning. “I’ve known him forever, and women have been throwing themselves at his feet that entire time. It is ridiculous ... and sometimes funny if it happens to a woman I don’t like.”

  “Seriously.” Aisling inhaled deeply. “How can you smell like ice cream?”

  “I’m going to shoot you,” Griffin warned. “I don’t have a gun, but I have a rich father-in-law and he’ll get me one. Plus, I’m married to a reaper. I’m assured they know how to get rid of a body.”

  Aisling giggled as she squirmed in her chair. Her eyes had taken on a hazy quality that made me mildly nervous. “Do you ever dip yourself in chocolate? Roll around in a bed full of sprinkles? Ooh, how do you feel about waxing yourself with hot caramel?”

  “That will be enough of that.” Booker extended a warning finger. “You’re making me uncomfortable. Sexual harassment is a real thing, and I’m more than a piece of meat.”

  “You’re definitely not a piece of meat,” Aisling agreed. “Meat doesn’t belong anywhere near whipped cream.”

  “What are you?” Griffin barked. He was familiar enough with the paranormal population to realize right away that something otherworldly was happening.

  “I’m just a handyman,” Booker lied.

  Griffin narrowed his eyes to dangerous slits. “Don’t make me smack you around.”

  “As if you could take me.”

  “Booker.” My voice was low and full of warning. “You have to tell them. It’s only fair.”

  “Fine.” He scorched me with a look before focusing on Griffin. “I’m a cupid. There, are you happy?”

  Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. Griffin’s forehead wrinkled as he absorbed the news. “Like a cherub? Do you wear a diaper and shoot people with arrows?”

  Aisling barked out a laugh. “That is hilarious. Although ... do you?” Her eyes darkened. Apparently the initial flood of Booker hormones was dissipating. “I have a few people I would like to shoot with arrows. Do you have a way of doing that?”

  “I don’t shoot people with arrows,” Booker countered, his temper short. “I don’t know why people think that.”

  “Blame Valentine’s Day,” Griffin volunteered. “That fat little baby cherub isn’t doing you any favors.”

  “Yeah, that guy.” Booker made a face. “Basically I’m simply a normal man, who is often so desirable that I do have to beat women off with a stick.”

  “Ooh. Do you sell your sweat as musk?” Aisling asked, brightening. “I’ve been wondering what I should get my brothers as souvenirs. Cillian has a girlfriend and Aidan is gay, but Braden and Redmond would be all over that.”

  Booker was incredulous. “You want me to bottle my sweat?”

  “More than anything.”

  “Just cool it.” He shook his head and his lips twitched. “I heard you were full of yourself and said whatever came to your mind. I guess the rumors about your personality weren’t exaggerated.”

  “Not even a little.” Aisling looked proud as she leaned back in her chair, her face no longer flushed. Griffin still didn’t appear happy, but he also didn’t look as if he was ready to jump to his feet and rip Booker’s head off his shoulders at any second. “What’s it like being a cupid?”

  Booker shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like anything.”

  “You must have some special powers,” she persisted. “Other than simply making women lose their heads and drool, that is. What can you do?”

  “I have a few talents in my arsenal,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve always been curious about reapers. What can you do?”

  “I can see souls and absorb them. That’s about it.”

  “I hear you’re a special reaper,” Booker pressed. “I hear you’ve been at the center of several very big fights the past two years.”

  Aisling was instantly suspicious. “How did you hear that?”

  I was equally curious. “Yeah, how did you hear that?” I echoed.

  “I know people.” Booker’s eyes never left Aisling’s face. “I hear you took down a couple of reaper families, wiped out a bunch of rogue reapers, got in a gargoyle war, took down a very dangerous witch named Genevieve Toth, and put a huge dent in the wraith population in Detroit. While all of it sounds interesting, I’m most interested in Genevieve.”

  “Who is Genevieve?” I asked.

  “You knew Genevieve, didn’t you?” Aisling asked. “Don’t bother denying it. I can tell. If you’re going to take up for her, well, stuff it. I’m not sorry about what I did. She had it coming.”

  “I didn’t have any love for Genevieve,” Booker countered. “In fact, she killed my great-uncle about sixty years ago. I thought she was dead, lost to time, but I guess not.”

  “She killed a lot of people’s uncles.” Aisling was grim. “I’m sorry she took yours.”

  “That was long before my time. My family remembers, though. My father will happy to hear she’s gone. How did she die?”

  “My father beheaded her with a really big sword.”

  Booker stilled. “Is that a euphemism?”

  “No.”

  “I’m dying to hear the story.”

  Aisling leaned back in her chair and ran her tongue over her teeth, internally debating. “Okay. I’ll tell you the story of Genevieve Toth if you tell me about being a cupid. I am equally curious to know what you’re capable of.”

  “Because I smell like ice cream?”

  “Actually, now you smell like tomato juice.”

  Lilac snorted. “What? How is that possible?”

  “I’m pregnant. My cravings change on a whim.”

  “I’ll tell you what I can tell you,” Booker hedged. “But only if you get your husband to stop glaring at me. Seriously, dude, I have no interest in your wife.”

  “Hey!” Aisling was offended. “I’m totally desirable.”

  “I don’t believe that’s the point, baby,” Griffin growled.

  “I’m still desirable.”

  “Of course you are.” He slipped a possessive arm around her back, practically daring Booker to fight his claim.

  “I only want to hear about Genevieve,” Booker promised. “She lived on this island for ten years. This was one of the places she escaped to when she wanted people to believe she was dead
.”

  I had no idea who Genevieve was, but I was fascinated. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it either,” I offered.

  “I’ll tell the story.” Aisling was resigned. “The ending, even though she had it coming, isn’t entirely happy.”

  “It’s not sad either,” Griffin pointed out. “You survived. We won. We found each other.”

  “Yeah, but a lot of other people lost their lives along the way.”

  “That’s how it goes,” Booker said. “Tell the story. Something tells me your unique spin on things will make it all the better.”

  Aisling’s smile widened. “I’m really starting to like you.”

  “Don’t push things, baby,” Griffin warned. “I’ll still kill him.”

  Booker didn’t look frightened in the least. “Yeah, yeah. Lay it on me. And don’t leave anything out.”

  13

  Thirteen

  Booker and Griffin ultimately found common ground and started engaging in conversation. Within an hour, they were downright friendly and some of the additions Griffin made to Aisling’s very long story were absolutely hilarious. Once she wrapped up, and Booker was convinced there was no more information to glean on the subject of Genevieve Toth, he invited Griffin to a nearby golf course ... and that’s when the conversation truly got interesting.

  “I don’t think I should leave you.” Griffin was adamant as he folded his arms over his chest and evenly met Aisling’s gaze. “We’re on our honeymoon. I’m pretty sure that means we’re supposed to be fused together for the rest of the week.”

  Aisling made an exaggerated face. “You mean you want to babysit me.”

  “I don’t believe that’s what I said.”

  “It’s what you mean, though.” Aisling refused to back down. “You don’t think I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Don’t do that.” He extended a warning finger and wagged it in her face. “That won’t work on me. I’m onto your tricks.”

  “What tricks?”

  “You’re trying to bully me into leaving you,” Griffin replied, matter-of-fact. “The thing is, it won’t work. We’re on our honeymoon.”

  “Yes, but I hate golf.”

  “I don’t have to golf.”

  “You love it. That’s one of the few things you do with my father that he doesn’t want to kill you over.”

  Griffin heaved out a sigh. “I’m not leaving you. I left you yesterday for a few hours and look what happened.”

  Aisling wasn’t the type to admit defeat, even when caught. “That was a fluke. What are the odds I’m going to stumble over another body today?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

  “Just go.” Aisling made a face. “I want you to have fun. My activity is limited thanks to your offspring taking over my body like the creature in Alien, so I think you should take Booker up on his offer.”

  Griffin’s eye roll was exaggerated. “Listen here, missy ... .”

  Aisling cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I want to talk to the girls,” she said pointedly, gesturing toward Lilac and me. “I don’t often get to hang around with women. You know I don’t get along with any of the women at home. I want to take advantage of this situation until they realize they don’t like me.”

  She was up to something. I couldn’t quite identify what, but she was definitely up to something.

  “I don’t know.” Griffin rubbed the back of his neck as his gaze bounced between faces. “What are you going to do today, Hadley?”

  The question was a trap of sorts. I sensed it. “Well, I plan to get some iced tea here and then probably head back to the lighthouse to conduct a little research in my library. Aisling is welcome to come with me. She’ll probably love the lighthouse. The view is breathtaking from the library.”

  “See.” Aisling’s smile was pretty, with just a hint of manipulation darkening the corners. “I’ll be perfectly fine. You’ll only be gone a few hours.”

  Griffin looked to Booker for confirmation. “Are you sure we can get on and off the course right away?”

  “I know the woman who runs the course,” Booker replied, his smile wide. “She thinks I smell like milk and cookies.”

  Griffin returned the smile, legitimately amused. “Okay. I’m going to hit the course and let you do ... your girl thing. You’re right about not having female friends. You’re overloaded with testosterone. Even your best friend is a man.

  “That doesn’t mean I believe you’re going to behave,” he continued, leaning forward and pinning her with a dark look. “If you act out and do something you’re not supposed to do, I will punish you.”

  “You mean you’re going to do something worse than forcing me to deliver a watermelon through my ... you know what?”

  Griffin sighed. She was clearly using her fear of giving birth as a weapon. “Have fun.” He forced a smile. “If you get in trouble, I’m calling your father. He’s not afraid to yell at you.”

  “I won’t get in trouble.” Aisling’s smile was sweet. “I give you my word.”

  Griffin gave her a kiss and hug, and went on his way. Booker gave me a wave and a whisper, explaining that I owed him for taking Griffin off our hands and he expected me to return the favor.

  Once they were gone, Aisling waited five minutes before hopping to her feet. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “We’re going to the hotel they’re building,” she replied. “Odds are, that’s where Jacob died.” She pulled what looked to be a long flute-like device from her pocket. “My father sent a scepter. If we’re lucky, he’ll be at the hotel site and we can question him before absorbing him.”

  “Oh.” That sounded like a good idea. “My golf cart is outside.”

  “Great.” Aisling beamed. “I’m driving.”

  “Why do you get to drive?”

  “Because I’m pregnant and it’s going to hurt when I deliver.”

  “How long are you going to use that as an excuse to get whatever you want?”

  “Until it stops working.”

  AISLING’S DRIVING SKILLS left a little (actually, a lot) to be desired. She had a lead foot and didn’t care about sticking to paved surfaces. The highway between the lighthouse and the hotel wasn’t busy, so she wasn’t forced to pull to the side very often, but she swerved in and out of the dirt multiple times. She seemed to be having a good time, though, so I let it go.

  When we parked at the new hotel site I was surprised to find at least thirty people working on the foundation — they were pouring concrete and taping off portions of the expansive basement to make sure nobody actually wandered into the wrong areas.

  “Do you know these people?” Aisling asked.

  I shook my head. “I’m new. I ... .” I broke off when I recognized one familiar face. We had met once. I questioned him after one of his workers broke into the lighthouse not long after I moved to the island. He seemed nice, bright and friendly. And he was our best shot. “I know him.”

  Aisling followed my gaze. “Great. Get him over here.”

  “He’s working.”

  “Tell him I’m pregnant and the baby might fall out of me if I’m in the heat too long. Trust me. That will work. Men don’t want to see a baby fall out of anywhere. It terrifies them.”

  She was something else. There was no doubt about that. I almost had to admire her manipulative mind. “That’s kind of mean.”

  “Do men have to squeeze a watermelon out of their hoo-has?”

  “No.”

  “That’s what’s really mean. Making men bend to my will isn’t mean. It’s ... necessary.”

  I realized I was bending to her will when I raised my hand and waved for Martin Gullikson to join us. If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t show it. He merely smiled, returned the wave, and headed in our direction.

  “You’re kind of terrifying when you want to be,” I noted, cringing when Aisling smiled.

  “I’m an artist,” A
isling explained. “I simply work with different ranges of being spoiled instead of oils.”

  “Good to know.”

  Martin was all smiles when he greeted me, offering a half-hug even though we weren’t especially well acquainted. I was learning fast that Moonstone Bay was a small community where everyone knew everyone else’s business. I either had to get used to it or leave ... and I had no intention of leaving.

  “Hey, Martin.” I hoped I sounded friendly rather than expectant. “This is Aisling Grimlock. We were just passing by when we saw the construction. We have a few questions.”

  “Questions?” Martin furrowed his brow. “I didn’t realize you were in hotel management. I don’t know if the staff for this place is already in place, but if you’re interested, I can get you the owner’s name.”

  I realized what he was referring to. “Oh, I’m not interested in hotel management. That’s not what the questions are about.”

  “Oh.” Martin was even more puzzled than when he started. “I guess I’m confused.”

  “Jacob Dorsey,” Aisling interjected, refusing to pussyfoot around the topic at hand. “He was found on the docks, dead. We understand he was working out here at the time of his death.”

  “Ah.” Martin nodded once and motioned to several plastic chairs placed under a large weeping willow. The spot was clearly a break location for some of the men, and I was eager to sit after the harrowing golf cart ride with Aisling behind the wheel.

  “Can I offer you anything to drink?” Martin asked. “I only have water, but it’s hot out here.”

  “Water is great,” I said, bobbing my head. “Aisling is pregnant and needs to keep hydrated.”

  She shot me an unreadable look. I wasn’t sure why she was so worked up. She’s the one who wanted to use her pregnancy as a weapon. I was merely following her lead.

  “You look great for a pregnant woman,” Martin said as he handed her a bottle of water from the nearby cooler. “People say pregnant women are beautiful, and I happen to agree. You’re glowing.”

  Aisling narrowed her eyes. “I’m also married.”

  I shot her a look and shook my head. “Ignore her. She’s crabby after the drive.” Keeping up with Aisling’s moods was like dealing with a temperamental toddler. I couldn’t help feeling a jab of sympathy for her poor father. He had to be a ragged man after dealing with her for almost thirty years. “We’re more interested in Jacob. Is it possible he was killed out here?”