Grim Tempest

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I know, Ais, but he needs time to come to grips with what happened. I don’t know what I would do in his position. I know it wasn’t his fault – he probably knows the same deep down – but the idea that he could’ve hurt you is wrecking him. I know it would wreck me if the same thing happened with Maya.”

  “But I’m fine.”

  “Yes, but the idea of hurting you is almost worse than the reality. You need to give him a little breathing room. Dad will talk to him.”

  That was exactly what I was worried about. “What if Dad is mean to him?”

  Cillian rolled his eyes. “Dad is nicer to Griffin than he is to us half the time. Don’t worry about it. Dad will be the best thing for Griffin. He won’t let him wallow, but he’ll give him a bit of space to work through the monstrous guilt chasing him.”

  The word “monster” triggered something in my head. “I never knew he could look like that. I didn’t think he had it in him.”

  This time when Cillian looked to me there was sympathy in his eyes. “Everyone has the potential to hurt those they love the most, which is why love is a leap of faith. You have to know that Griffin would never purposely hurt you.”

  “I do know that. I’m still going to be haunted by that look on his face for a long time.”

  “Nowhere near as haunted as he’ll be by the one he saw on your face. No one wants the person he loves to be afraid of him, and that will eat at Griffin now. You have to find a way to get past that.”

  “That’s why I wanted to stay at Grimlock Manor. Griffin needs me.”

  “Griffin needs oxygen and peace,” Cillian countered. “He’ll need you eventually, but he needs solitude first.”

  “Fine. I hate it when you make sense.” I dragged a hand through the hair I hadn’t bothered to brush after it was blown in a million different directions by the storm. “So … what are we supposed to do first?”

  “I don’t know,” Cillian admitted, narrowing his eyes as he stared into one of the rooms. Several people – many of them sniffling and crying – sat with a well-tailored man in an expensive suit as they flipped through what looked to be a catalog. “I’m guessing that’s them.”

  Cillian licked his lips as he turned back to me, his expression hard to read. “How about I handle the group in there and you meander around to see if you can find any stragglers to question?”

  “Why do you want to be the one to handle the people in there?”

  “They’re women. You don’t often make a good impression on women.”

  He wasn’t wrong. I was insulted all the same. Still, I didn’t want to deal with Harry Turner’s bereaved loved ones, so if Cillian wanted to do the bulk of the heavy lifting on this one I was happy to let him.

  “Go ahead.” I flashed a smile that wasn’t exactly genuine. “I’ll look around for ideas in case I want to bury Braden in the near future.”

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  Cillian gave my shoulder a squeeze before heading off to work his charms on Turner’s relatives. I watched him for a moment, shaking my head at the way he smoothed his hair and squared his shoulders, and then headed toward the room on the other side of the lobby.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect. There was always a possibility that one of Turner’s loved ones had detached from the crowd for a moment of quiet. If so, it was my job to ask questions and get to the bottom of the witch rumor.

  Instead of Turner’s relatives, I found someone else. It wasn’t who I expected and yet, given the day I was having it felt somehow right.

  “Angelina?”

  Angelina jerked her shoulders at the sound of my voice and dropped the coffin pillow she was looking at as if it were on fire. She looked almost guilty … although why was beyond me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was just about to ask you the same question,” I said, sauntering into the room and taking a seat on the uncomfortable couch centered between the display cases. “What is it with this little furniture? It’s stupid looking.”

  “It’s antique and original,” Angelina said with a sigh. “It’s worth a lot of money, and only those with taste would bother taking the time to restore it. I’m sure it’s better than whatever particle board furniture you’ve got.”

  Oddly enough, I was glad she drew first blood in our ongoing verbal war. I wasn’t feeling up to being the aggressor. “Yes, but with particle board you can replace it every year without feeling guilty.”

  “At least you have a reason.” Angelina returned the pillow to its proper spot in the display. “Why are you here? Are you trolling for dates?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Angelina arched an eyebrow, surprised. “Wait … you have a legitimate reason for being here? I can’t wait to hear this.”

  “We’re trying to get information about a dead guy.” I saw no reason to lie. Angelina was well aware of our family secret. She could easily figure out things on her own. “We need to determine if his mother was a witch, because he might have something to do with the evil storms hitting the area.”

  Angelina’s shoulders jerked as she stared me down. “Evil storms?”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the storms.”

  “There have been a lot of them the past few days,” Angelina confirmed. “Is that what you’re talking about?”

  “Sure. Why not? We’ll go with that.”

  Angelina knit her eyebrows. “You’re lying. You’re talking about something else.”

  “It hardly matters.” I reclined on the couch. “What are you doing here? Are you looking for a new bed? I think a casket is a great idea if you’re looking to entrap a man. If you close the top he probably won’t be able to escape. The older you get, the more you’ll probably need something like that.”

  “Oh, your wit astounds me,” Angelina sneered. “How have you not gotten a job as a standup comedienne yet?”

  “I’m saving that for next year.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  She still hadn’t answered my first question and I was starting to get uncomfortable with her rather obvious silence. “Did something happen with your mother?”

  “Do you care?”

  Did I? I wasn’t sure. “You know what happened earlier wasn’t because I wanted to mess with you, right? It probably seems that way, but … I honestly was trying to help.”

  “Because of the evil storms?”

  I shrugged. “There’s very little point in me explaining. You won’t understand. I just … I wasn’t trying to make things worse. I can very rarely say that and mean it, but I mean it now.”

  Angelina sighed and threw herself on the other end of the couch, rubbing her forehead as she stared into nothing. “I figured that out when you didn’t press charges against her. You could have – she hurt you. I’ve been trying to figure out why you didn’t ever since we left the precinct and I had to take her back home so she could rest with the day nurse.”

  “There was no point in pressing charges. She clearly wasn’t in her right mind.”

  “No, clearly not,” Angelina agreed. “Her medication makes her wonky.”

  “Your buddy Detective Green wanted to charge me even though I was the victim in that particular scenario – wow, there’s something I never thought I would say – and he pushed hard. Did you have something to do with that?”

  “No. I told him there was no need, but he seems to have a thing for you – and not in a good way. He asked me what I knew about you. At first I thought he was asking if you were a good person – and you know how I would’ve answered that question – but it was more than that. He’s digging hard on you because he believes you’re a murderer or something.”

  I wasn’t surprised by the admission, but it didn’t sit well. “What did you tell him?”

  “Are you asking if I shared your family secret?”

  I stared at her.

  “Well, I didn’t.” Angelina rubbed between her eyebrows. I could feel the weariness emanating from her. “He wouldn’t believ
e me if I told him the things I’ve seen happening around you. Even if he did, I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to be involved in any of that.”

  “You definitely don’t. You still haven’t told me why you’re here. I’m starting to get a complex about your non-answers.”

  “I’m here because my mother is insistent about planning her funeral. She wants choices … and catalogs … and sample material. She doesn’t care that it’s morbid. She merely cares that she gets to choose.”

  I was dumbfounded. “Seriously?” That sounded like the worst thing ever. “Do you think that’s because she feels as if choices have been stripped from her, so she wants to be in charge of the few things she can control?”

  Angelina’s mouth dropped open. “Wow. That was almost profound the way you phrased that.”

  I grinned. “I can be profound.”

  “Not usually. As for your theory, I guess that’s as good a reason for her behavior as any.” Angelina groaned as she stood and turned back to the display. “I have to take a catalog home. She wants her funeral planned before … well, before it’s necessary.”

  “Maybe it won’t be necessary for a long time,” I suggested hopefully.

  “No. I know that’s not true. It will be soon.”

  My stomach flipped. “Soon?”

  “Very soon. The doctor says she has weeks at most. It could happen any day now. I could wake up tomorrow, walk into her room and … well, it will definitely be soon.”

  “I’m sorry.” I found I actually meant it, which was sobering. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

  “Your mother died.”

  “Yeah, well … .”

  “Then she came back to life,” Angelina added. “You got a miracle.”

  “Is that what you want? A miracle, I mean.”

  “I don’t know. But I want something other than this.” Angelina shook herself from her reverie and grabbed a catalog from the counter. “I don’t think I’m going to get what I want for a long time. Even when the death itself is fast, what’s left behind isn’t.”

  She wasn’t wrong. “I hope things get better.”

  “You do?”

  I shrugged. “It’s no fun to mess with you when you can’t insult me back.”

  “True enough. Maybe one day, huh?”

  “Yeah. Maybe one day.”

  17

  Seventeen

  I was nervous and intent on seeing Griffin when we returned to Grimlock Manor. Cillian babbled on and on about … well, something … for the duration of the ride back to the house. He seemed to think that I was not only interested but listening, which was pretty far from the truth.

  “Yeah. It’s fascinating.” I breezed past him as he opened the front door and headed toward the stairs. “I’m sure everyone else will be thrilled to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over that enthralling story.”

  Cillian made a face. “You weren’t even listening, were you?”

  “Not even a little.”

  I was on the first step when a hand grabbed the back of my hoodie and jerked me back, causing me to nearly lose my footing and face plant on the foyer’s ceramic tile.

  “Hey! You almost killed me. Knock it off.”

  I wasn’t surprised to find Dad staring at me when I struggled to turn. He didn’t immediately release my hoodie, which told me I was in for a lecture.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Dad asked pointedly.

  “Um … in life or right now?”

  “Don’t try to be cute.”

  “But I do it so well.”

  Dad growled, a sound I recognized well from my teenage years. He was very close to losing it.

  “Don’t take that tone with me.” I adopted a petulant voice. “I’m going to see Griffin and you can’t stop me.”

  “I think you should give him a bit longer.”

  “No.”

  “Aisling … .”

  “No,” I repeated, firmly shaking my head. “I want to see him. He doesn’t know it yet, but he needs to see me. I’m going to fix him.”

  Dad let loose a weary sigh. “Why is it that women feel the need to fix things that might be incapable of being fixed?”

  The words were like a sharp smack across the face, and my smile slipped. “What do you mean? You didn’t let him leave, did you? He hasn’t disappeared so I’ll never be able to find him, has he?”

  Dad’s expression was hard to read. “May I ask why you think that?”

  I shrugged, his somber eyes causing me to squirm. “Because he’s a do-gooder. He’s one of those people who always does things that are in the best interests of others. I’m worried he’s going to think that being away is best for me … and it’s not. And I’m going to kick him if he tries.”

  “Ah.” Dad continued to hold on to my hoodie. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. Even if Griffin did believe that in the heat of the moment, the idea would be fleeting. I believe the boy is hopelessly in love with you … which is both sweet and annoying. It often makes me want to throttle him.”

  “Well, great.” I tried to jerk away from Dad, but managed to move only two inches. “Let me go so I can talk to him. I need to make him feel better.”

  Braden snickered as he strolled into the foyer, Redmond, Aidan and Jerry on his heels. “Did you just admit to Dad that you’re going upstairs to seduce Griffin to make him feel better?”

  “No, gutter brain, I did not!”

  Dad used his free hand to cuff Braden. “Don’t ever say anything remotely like that again.”

  “Fine.” Braden was rueful as he rubbed the back of his head. “I thought you were holding her here so she couldn’t go upstairs and be slutty. It was a misunderstanding.”

  “You’re a complete and total idiot,” I supplied. “Like I would ever admit to Dad that I’m about to be slutty. That runs counterintuitive to every instinct I have.”

  “That’s my sweet girl,” Dad teased, his smile slipping when I tried to escape the hoodie and leave it behind in an effort to flee upstairs. “Don’t push me, Aisling.”

  “What’s going on here?” Mom appeared in the open doorway – I couldn’t remember if we’d left it open or she simply let herself into the house – and frowned when she saw my struggle with Dad. “Are you being punished?”

  “I have four brothers,” I reminded her. “My entire life is punishment.”

  “Yes. Poor you.” Mom ruffled my hair as if I were an adorable eight-year-old trying to manipulate my father. She turned to Dad. “Why are you forcing her to stay here?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Dad’s tone was breezy. His relationship with Mom was something of a work in progress. He’d loved her beyond reason when she died. This person who came back wasn’t the woman he married, though. I couldn’t blame him for being standoffish.

  Several of my brothers, on the other hand – Redmond and Braden specifically – couldn’t seem to get it through their thick heads that Dad didn’t want to pick up right where they’d left off and pretend we were a sitcom family and that bygones were bygones.

  “Obviously something is going on,” Mom pressed. “I think I have a right to know.”

  “You don’t have a right to anything,” Dad countered, his eyes flashing. “You’re here because I allow it. You’re not owed anything.”

  “Dad.” Braden shifted to put himself between them. “She’s worried about Aisling. I think that’s allowed.”

  “I do, too,” Mom sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Aisling is my daughter, too. If something is going on … .”

  “Nothing is going on,” Dad snapped.

  “Something happened this afternoon,” Braden volunteered, causing Dad’s eyes to widen. Braden explained what happened during the storm, including Redmond’s takedown of an out-of-control Griffin. “So, you see, things are a little tense,” he finished.

  “I do see.” Mom’s eyes were thoughtful as she glanced among faces. “And you’re holding Aisling to keep her away fr
om Griffin so he doesn’t hurt her?”

  “No.” Dad’s fury was palpable. I knew Braden was in for a lecture later regarding family business and exactly how much should be shared with Mom. Unfortunately for Braden, he’d sat through the lecture multiple times the past few months, learning nothing each time. “I think Griffin needs time alone. Aisling will simply upset him.”

  “Why would Griffin be upset?” Mom challenged. “He attacked her.”

  “He didn’t do it on purpose,” I snapped, glaring at Mom. “The storm made him do it.”

  “I’m not sure I believe in evil storms,” Mom said.

  “I don’t really care what you believe in,” I shot back. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Aisling, it’s going to be fine.” Dad kept his voice calm as he focused on me. “Don’t let her get to you. What she says doesn’t matter.”

  “Why?” Braden asked. “She’s right. Griffin did go after Aisling.”

  “And Redmond stopped him,” Dad said. “As I recall, Jerry went after Aidan. I didn’t see you expressing the same attitude toward Jerry.”

  “That’s because Jerry is part of the family.”

  “So is Griffin.”

  Dad’s simple declaration caused the air to whoosh out of my lungs. I stopped struggling, my muscles going limp as I simply hung from my hoodie in front of Dad. At that moment I knew he had Griffin’s best interests at heart. If he truly believed it was a mistake for me to head upstairs, then perhaps he was right.

  Dad looked at me, surprised. “Are you done fighting?”

  I nodded. “You don’t think Griffin wants to see me, do you?”

  “I’m pretty sure Griffin is being consumed by guilt right now,” Dad replied, choosing his words carefully. “I tried talking to him, but he wouldn’t even look at me. I decided to leave him for a bit. I’ll try to discuss things with him again later.”

  “So you think I should just stay away from him? Don’t you think that will make him believe I’m afraid of him … or that I’m somehow angry … or that I don’t want to be around him?”