Light the Shadows (A Grimm Novel)

by Clay, Michelle

  Micah frowned, desperately trying to understand.

  Sighing, Karla said, “The two of you don’t like each other. To be honest, I think she was going to let you go before all this happened.”

  “Do I have any houses to sell?” God, this sucked. What if Karla said yes? Micah didn’t know the first thing about short sales, foreclosure, or escrow. Thank goodness she'd caught a few episodes of House Hunters or she might really be lost.

  Karla made a face, somewhere between pity and amusement. “No. Ben and Diane added everything to their listings. Knowing Diane, she probably did it so she could keep the commissions.”

  “What about the house where I…” She wasn’t going to say died. She just wasn’t. “Where the accident happened?”

  Karla made the stupid face again. It looked like she was either trying to figure out a really hard math problem or hold in gas. Finally, she answered, “Well, because of what happened, the listing has been put on hold. It’s just sitting there. The owner’s not happy about it either. It seems like he's calling every other day about it, and there are only so many excuses, you know?"

  After lunch, Micah found the password to the computer taped to the underside of the desk. How original. She leafed through a daily planner she found in the bottom drawer. Judging by the entries inside, it looked like she had only worked for Harmon Real Estate for eight months. She’d sold a couple houses in that short time, but none were the premiere estates the Harmon’s boasted on their website and business cards.

  Micah spent the rest of the afternoon immersed in books filled with market terms and laws. What she thought would be a boring waste of time actually proved interesting, even shocking. Somehow, she knew a lot of the terminology and was familiar with some of the more common laws. Maybe this farce she was forced to live wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  Early evening pinks streaked across the skyline before she finally closed the book. Tourists and locals alike streamed past the window, headed downtown for dinner or a drink. Mesmerized by the ebb and flow of normal activity outside the window, she watched for a while. What kind of life had the real Micah lived? Did she go out on the town on Friday nights? More likely, she went home and curled up with a book in her pajamas. Tonight, she’d really live on the edge. Maybe she’d get takeout and watch some movies with Anna.

  The front door jangled, and she heard Karla speaking to someone in hushed tones. Hoping it was one or both of the Harmons, Micah quickened her step down the hallway. When she rounded the corner, she found Karla flirting with a man who was only slightly less sun-kissed than the secretary was. He wore a pink polo, khaki pants, and ugly golf shoes.

  Karla nudged him with an elbow. “I told you she was back.”

  Ben moved toward Micah then leaned forward like he meant to kiss her. She jerked back, eyes wide. Feeling awkward, Micah thrust her hand toward him. “You must be Mr. Harmon?”

  “Ben,” He corrected then looked at her outstretched hand, a bewildered expression on his face.

  Karla winked, “You’ll have to excuse her. She suffered a brain injury and has amnesia. She doesn’t remember anything from before the accident. Right, Micah?”

  Something about the way she said it didn’t set well with Micah. Did Karla think she was faking this lack of knowledge? That she was having fun with this counterfeit life? The truth was, she was scared to death. What if someone found out? What if the Reapers found her? “I died, Karla. Cut me some freaking slack, okay?”

  Karla threw her hands up in mock surrender then turned to grab her purse. “I’m going to have a few drinks. Want to come with?” She wasn’t looking at Micah.

  Ben rested a hip against Karla’s desk and ignored her. “You look great, Micah. Really great. No one would ever guess you’d been in a coma. You look so different.”

  Micah felt like a bug under a microscope. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

  Karla huffed then fluffed her hair. When that didn’t get Ben’s attention, she leaned closer and pushed her boobs against his arm. “Did you see her eyes?”

  His gaze trailed up her body, from the toes of her cute black flats to the top of her head. His gaze lingered on her mismatched eyes for a few seconds then drifted back to her breasts.

  “So you don’t remember anything? Nothing at all?” Ben ran a hand through his short, sandy brown hair. “That must be pretty weird for you.”

  A smile lifted the corner of Micah’s mouth. “You have no idea. It’s like I’m meeting myself for the first time. It’s definitely going to take some getting used to.”

  Ben’s cheeks flushed, and he licked his lips. He seemed to want to say something more, but thought better of it. Gripping her hand, he said, “Hopefully you’ll remember the important things and forget all the bad.”

  What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  Karla practically jumped from her perch. “I don’t know how she’s going to sell houses if she can’t remember how to do her job,” Karla said with just the right amount of snark to piss Micah off.

  “Hey!” Micah glared daggers at the redheaded bimbo.

  Ben’s arm encircled Micah’s shoulders, and she didn’t miss the jealous squint to Karla’s eyes. What the hell was going on between the two of them?

  He said, “Don’t worry, Micah. I’ll personally work with you until you get a grasp on things.” He gave her shoulder a too tight squeeze before his fingers fluttered down the length of her back in a too familiar way.

  Karla sniffed then cast a saccharine sweet smile in Micah’s direction. “Well, we’d better discuss that with Diane, don’t you think? They don’t exactly get along, and last I heard, she had other plans.”

  Fuming, Micah hitched her purse onto her shoulder then stomped out the door. She didn’t have a worthy comeback, and to continue this discussion would be stupid. She honestly didn’t know if she could sell a house for the Harmons, but she certainly didn’t like being talked down to. She wasn’t a blithering idiot with mush for brains.

  Ben rushed out behind her. “Micah, wait!”

  Lost in thought, she hurried to where she’d parked, half a block away. She dropped inside and took a deep, calming breath.

  She’d show them. She’d become the best damn real estate agent around. It sounded kind of childish, like she was thumbing her nose at the world, but she didn’t care. Anna had told her to own this life, and that’s just what she planned to do.

  The waning sunshine filtered through the palm trees lining the street like a strobe light, creating blind spots all around her car. She put the car in reverse to angle it out of its parallel space then checked the mirror.

  A bump and scrape of metal, followed by a loud crash, knotted her stomach. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  Scrambling out of the car to stand over the fallen motorcycle, Micah clapped a trembling hand over her mouth. Obviously the bike’s owner had parked way too close.

  A guy came out of the bar across the street and was headed this way. Her borrowed heart skipped a beat. The dude was tall, well-built, and probably nothing but trouble. Judging by the scowl that twisted his perfect features, he was also the bike’s owner.

  His dark jeans and simple black t-shirt were casual and cool, but nothing about him looked cheap. Or easy. He ran long fingers through hair that was delectable shades of sun-kissed blonde. “What the hell?”

  Micah thought about playing the ditzy female. He probably even expected it, but she just couldn’t. “I barely touched it.”

  He squatted next to the overturned motorcycle to inspect the damage. When he turned to look up at her, the muscles of his shoulders and back flexed, pulling the soft cotton of his black t-shirt taut. Light colored eyes slanted up at her with a brazen glare. “Didn’t you check your mirrors?”

  “You parked too close.” Micah tucked her sunglasses atop her head. She’d forgotten about her mismatched eyes until he met her gaze. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem taken aback.

  He hauled the Harley back to an upright position
then sighed at the damage. The pearly silver paint was scuffed, the mirror smashed and dangling like a broken arm.

  She felt crappy about destroying such a beautiful machine and told him so.

  He smoothed a fingertip across the tank. "It can still be useful."

  Micah couldn't help but watch as his long finger slid across the pearly paint. His caress was almost reverent. To be touched like that by a lover … the very idea of it was enough to fuel some very wicked imaginings. Her heartbeat kicked out an extra beat or two, and she forced herself to take a calming breath.

  The streetlights came on just as he leaned a hip against the bumper of her car. He pulled a cell phone from his back pocket and searched for a tow service. Within seconds he’d given them his location.

  This guy was beautiful. His strong jaw line was covered with a light sprinkling of stubble, which just added to the allure. His eyes were arguably the most breathtaking light blue she’d ever seen. A girl could get lost in those eyes. Her gaze had just trailed down to his amazing pecs when he said, “So, what do you plan on doing about this?”

  Micah was uncomfortable that he’d caught her gawking. If the circumstances had been better, she could think of a several things she’d like to do. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d kind of prefer to keep the insurance agents out of it.”

  He crooked a brow. There was just a hint of the South in his accent, but Micah couldn't place it. He asked, “You don’t have insurance?”

  “I do, but won’t this be considered an accident?” She rested a hand on her hip. “My rates will go up.”

  The tow truck was already waiting at the light just up the street. That was fast service! Her time with Mr. Hottie was about to end, and she experienced some remorse. He straightened from the bumper of her car and moved toward the mangled motorcycle.

  “Hey, we haven’t exchanged info yet.”

  “James Sullivan.” His warm hand enclosed her smaller one. A thin silver ring twined around his middle finger. As his left hand came up to sweep the hair out of his eyes, she noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.

  His skin felt good against hers. Did his lovers call him James or Sully when they cried out his name in passion? In that instant, Micah wanted to be so familiar with him that she could call him Sully.

  His gaze lingered on hers a moment too long, and she feared he might read all the wicked thoughts churning in her head. Micah slipped her hand from his and looked away in embarrassment. She’d like to say this was so unlike her usual behavior, but the truth was, she didn’t know what her usual behavior was.

  The tow truck pulled up behind the motorcycle, and the driver bounced out to assess the damage. He was an older guy in grease stained coveralls that were unzipped to the waist. He’d tied the sleeves around his wide midsection, but wore an undershirt beneath it.

  Micah ventured an unsure smile at Sully. “I may have some business cards in my purse. Hang on.”

  Micah nearly screamed when she leaned through the window and found Anna seated inside. Her whispered words were full of urgency. “We need to get out of here.”

  Glancing back at Sully, Micah saw him clap the man on the shoulder. He seemed preoccupied, so she turned her attention back to her wayward teenage ghost. Careful to keep her words even and below her breath, she said, “Why are you here? Don’t you have anything better to do than spy on me?”

  Anna’s face shimmered scarlet. “Get in the car. Now.”

  Instead, Micah snatched a business card then whirled away from the window. Her heart leapt into her throat when Sully moved away from the truck and met her halfway. His easy smile melted Micah’s insides. His lips looked so kissable, so nibble worthy. Oh how she wished they’d met under different circumstances. Still, something might be salvageable.

  “Thanks, doll.” Sully accepted the card then tucked it into his pocket. Already he was moving away, the connection between them severed.

  Micah wilted, feeling as though she’d missed something. He hadn’t even flirted with her. She felt deflated and began to question her appeal to the male species.

  A giggle came from the car, and she sent a nervous glance in its direction. Damn it.

  Her feet were leaden as she slogged past the disappointment that threatened to drown her. Jerking the door open, she dropped inside and refused to look at her passenger. There was no need for her to point out the obvious. “Not a word. Got it?”

  Anna huffed, sounding like a balloon that was slowly losing air. “You should have seen your face. You looked like someone kicked your puppy.”

  “Well jeez. I ran over the guy’s motorcycle. I feel horrible about it.”

  Snorting with laughter, Anna clutched at her sides. “Yeah, whatever. If he said he’d take out the damage in trade, you’d have jumped his bones.”

  It was Micah’s turn to laugh. James Sullivan obviously wasn’t interested. After he’d gotten her information, he hadn’t paid her any attention.

  Anna watched as the tow truck and the two men inside pulled around Micah’s car. Sully turned his head to stare at them and winked.

  Anna squealed in terror, and her image flickered.

  “Don’t you disappear on me!” Micah didn’t know what was happening, and the ghost’s reaction was worrisome.

  “He saw me. Oh crap. He saw me!”

  “That’s not possible.” Micah’s head jerked toward the window with whiplash speed. She and Sully had something in common after all! They could both see pain in the ass teenagers who also happened to be ghosts.

  “You cannot see that man again, okay? Promise me, Micah.” Anna’s eyes widened, and the fingers of her right hand disappeared into the soft leather of the seat. “Avoid him at all costs.”

  “Didn’t you see him? He’s freaking gorgeous.” Micah’s fists curled around the steering wheel so tight that the leather creaked. “Not to mention, I just trashed his motorcycle. I have to see him to take care of the damage.”

  “I didn’t recognize him before,” Anna muttered.

  “You know him?”

  The next words out of Anna’s mouth forced bile into Micah’s throat. “He’s a Reaper.”

  Chapter Four

  Micah was tired and grumpy from a night of restless sleep. Constant worries that the Reaper would come crashing into her bedroom and haul her to hell kept her searching the darkness for any sign of movement. When she finally had fallen into a fitful sleep early this morning, her dreams had been sordid, and James Sullivan had made her scream for entirely different reasons.

  “I’m not leaving the house until this is resolved.” The declaration left Micah’s lips as she came out of the walk-in closet. “Why isn’t he making a move? What’s he waiting for?”

  “I don’t know.” Anna flopped back on the bed, but didn’t muss the covers. “What about your job? Your life?”

  The girl hadn’t been there when Micah had gone into the closet to dress, but she wasn’t surprised to see her this morning. Anna was forever popping up without warning.

  Micah sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s stolen, remember?”

  Anna waggled a ghostly finger at her. “Finders keepers. He has to prove you stole it first.”

  “Then what? Will he make me give it back?”

  “I don’t know,” Anna said with an exasperated groan.

  “There seems to be a lot you don’t know.”

  Anna sat up to glare at her. “Well, no one has ever returned before. At least, not on my watch.”

  Micah ignored her comment and sorted through a shoe box full of old photos she found hidden behind a stack of shoes in the closet. There had also been a school yearbook. Senior year must have been a sad, lonely affair. The pages inside were clean without friends’ names signed next to photos or witty little poems in the white space. When she finally located her senior class, she stared at the photo of herself, at a loss for words. The girl pictured there looked miserable, so lost and lonely.

  The book snapped shut with a puff of dusty ai
r that sent Micah’s hair flying off her face. Something else was bothering her about the man candy Anna had accused of being a Reaper. “He didn’t have a scythe. Maybe you were mistaken.”

  Anna sneered with an eye roll. “It isn’t like he can just drag one around all day. Have you ever seen one? They’re cumbersome. I imagine it’s going to be in the form of a tattoo or something like that.”

  Then it hit Micah, a certainty so obvious that she dropped the book onto the comforter. “He followed you.”

  Anna sat up, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What? No.”

  “You keep showing up and making a pain of yourself. He probably followed you right to me!”

  “Making a pain of myself?” the ghost shrieked then shot to her feet. Her face twisted into something ugly, with her teeth bared and her eyes squinted. “I’ll show you how much of a pain I can be!”

  She dashed toward the dresser and knocked everything onto the floor without even touching it. Next, she turned toward the bookshelf tucked in the corner, and books and trinkets tumbled to the floor. The romance novel on the bedside table flopped onto the floor. Its bookmark shot beneath the bed, lost amongst the dust bunnies and cobwebs.

  “Stop it, you little brat!” Micah chased her out of the room toward the kitchen.

  By the time they reached the breakfast bar, Anna's tantrum lost steam. She dumped over a cup of water sitting on the counter. Ribbons of water stretched across the countertop and soaked the morning newspaper. The rest dribbled onto the floor.

  “God, that takes a lot of energy. It really takes it out of me.” She bent at the waist, placing her hands on her knees, and laughed. Casting one last glance at Micah's furious face, she flickered then disappeared.

  Grumbling to herself, Micah crouched to clean the mess. She would have to apologize for calling Anna a brat, even if she was one. She was the only friend Micah had. The gravity of the situation struck her, and she fell backward onto her butt in a fit of laughter. Her only friend was a ghost and a teenager at that! How depressing. If she hadn’t already died once, she might slit her wrists!