1 Grim Tidings

by Amanda M. Lee

“They’re not the best witnesses,” Griffin acknowledged. “They both described the same thing, though.”

  “So there are demons running around Detroit?” Jerry didn’t look convinced until his eyes met mine evenly before realization washed over him. “Oh.”

  “Oh, what?” Griffin asked.

  “Nothing,” Jerry said hurriedly, suddenly fascinated with his mug of coffee.

  Now Griffin was the one who didn’t look convinced. I couldn’t worry about that right now, though. I had to find Redmond. I knew what my brothers were trying to hide from me. It wasn’t a freelancer that took the soul early. It was a wraith.

  Now I was pissed – and a little scared.

  Nine

  Rushing a police officer out of your home when pretending to do the opposite isn’t easy.

  Thankfully, Jerry seemed to realize that I knew more than I was letting on and decided to be helpful.

  “Don’t forget you have to help me at the bakery today,” he said. Jerry participates in community theater and he gets off playing a part. His current role was supportive best friend, and he wasn’t above lying to a cop to get him out of our condo.

  “You own a bakery?” Griffin asked. He was still playing the comfortable breakfast angle.

  “Get Baked,” Jerry replied, his pride evident as his chest puffed out.

  “That’s a great place,” Griffin said.

  “You’ve been there?” I asked pointedly.

  Griffin looked momentarily abashed. “Well, no, but I’ve been to a few brunches where cupcakes from Get Baked were served.”

  “Brunches?” Jerry narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were straight.”

  “I am straight.” Griffin looked flummoxed. “You know, straight people have brunch, too.”

  “Not in my world. She doesn’t have brunch.” Jerry pointed at me for emphasis. Unfortunately, he was lying. I remembered a series of Sunday brunches I was forced to attend with Jerry’s posse. I didn’t tell Griffin, though.

  I couldn’t fight the smile that flirted with the corners of my mouth as Jerry sank into his performance. Griffin frowned when he saw my reaction.

  “I’m not gay.”

  “I know.” I held up my hands in mock surrender.

  “It’s good you’re not gay,” Jerry said.

  “Why?”

  “Because if you’re gay you can’t end this one’s dry spell.” Jerry gestured toward me haphazardly.

  My smile flipped into a scowl while Griffin’s frown turned upside down. “Dry spell?”

  “He’s being dramatic.”

  “Six months,” Jerry shook his head. “Six months isn’t just a dry spell, it’s a drought.”

  “Don’t you have to shower before work?”

  Jerry considered the question for a second and then winked when he got my inference. “Oh, right, you want a few minutes alone with our guest.” He got to his feet and dropped his coffee mug in the sink. “I’ll just leave you two alone.”

  He obviously didn’t get my inference.

  “Did you want some time alone with me?” Griffin asked after Jerry left the room. He seemed amused at the prospect.

  “Not really.”

  Griffin raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing my answer.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Murders to solve and all of that?”

  “I’m still waiting for you to comment on the possibility of a demon murdering Mr. Harper.”

  Great.

  “I think that the pot on the streets these days must be a lot stronger than the pot I smoked when I was in high school.” Wait? A cop can’t arrest you eight years after the fact, can he?

  “That’s all you have to say about it?” Griffin’s eyes were serious.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to say, ‘Oh, that’s crazy,’” he replied.

  “Oh, that’s crazy.”

  “Something tells me something else is going on here.”

  “Is that cop intuition?”

  “More like human observation.”

  “You must be a big hit at parties.”

  Griffin regarded me for a second and then slowly rose to his feet. “I should probably go.”

  He probably should. I can’t race out of the apartment and accuse my brother of being a big, fat liar if he is still here grilling me.

  “I’ll be in touch if I need to talk to you again,” he said.

  “Of course.”

  Is it wrong that I’m secretly yearning for another interrogation?

  TWO HOURS later I was in Troy watching a Hindu try to make peace with Shiva.

  “Seriously?”

  Redmond refused to meet my accusing glare. “What does it hurt?”

  “Aidan said that you guys don’t do this,” I said. “He says that you just go in, scepter blazing, and collect the soul and get out. He said that trying to talk to the souls is a waste of time and that I need to toughen up.”

  Redmond ignored my sarcasm. “Oh, by the way,” he reached into his pocket and handed me a familiar object. “I got this back for you this morning.”

  I grudgingly took the scepter from his hand and shoved it into my pocket. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Did they give you any crap?”

  “No,” he shook his head. “They were surprisingly easy to deal with.”

  “And they didn’t have any questions about the paperwork?”

  “Nope.”

  Redmond’s soul was busily making promises to Shiva – and he wasn’t in hearing distance – so I took the opportunity to grab the bull by the horns.

  “So, Detective Taylor stopped by my place this morning.”

  “Is that the guy who took you and Aidan in for questioning?”

  “Yup.”

  “Why was he at your condo?”

  “Because he wants to torture me.”

  Redmond regarded me skeptically. “Why did he really show up?”

  “Because he wanted me to confirm that the two witnesses he found really saw a seven-foot-tall guy who looked like a demon in a robe.”

  Redmond’s breath came out in a whoosh. I knew it!

  “You knew it was a wraith, didn’t you?”

  Redmond averted his eyes from my gaze. “No.”

  “Don’t lie.”

  “I had my suspicions,” Redmond replied. “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I lied to you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You did.”

  “I did not.”

  “You did, too.”

  “I did not.”

  “You did, too. Now what is he doing?”

  Redmond glanced back up at his charge and sighed. “Dedicating his life to Shiva in exchange for eternal worship.”

  “He’s already dead.”

  “He doesn’t believe it.”

  “They never do.”

  “I hate doing Hindu retrievals,” Redmond sighed. “They’re never violent, but they’re always so earnest.”

  “Is that why you agreed to let him say goodbye to the statue?”

  “Don’t be a pain.”

  “So, what do you think about this whole wraith thing?” I returned to the problem at hand.

  Okay, here’s the situation. We live in a world where the paranormal exist. Not vampires (sorry, sparkly Robert Pattinson fans). Not werewolves (sorry, randy Joe Manganiello fans). Not zombies (sorry, gritty Norman Reedus fans). Not mummies (sorry … hmm, there have never been any hot mummies in pop culture, have there?). But other things do exist. Reapers. Witches. Fairies. Wraiths.

  Wraiths are our current concern, though. They’re essentially fallen witches and warlocks. They can live for centuries if they absorb the souls of the recently deceased. As for the owners of those souls, once they’re gone they’re gone. No afterlife. No Heaven. No Hell. No Purgatory. Nothing. It goes against the very fiber o
f nature.

  Wraiths are a big deal – and they’re inherently evil. If we have a rogue one in the area, we have a fight on our hands.

  “I think we need more information.” Redmond’s face was drawn and serious.

  I love Redmond, but his insistence on following the rules and not flying off the handle is tedious.

  “Where are we going to get this information?”

  “I have an idea.”

  I searched his face for answers and, when I found them, my heart plummeted. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  Crap. He wanted to go see Madame Maxine. I knew I should have picked a different brother to approach.

  “Wait here,” Redmond ordered. “I have to tear this guy away from the statue. I’ll be right back.”

  I can’t wait.

  Ten

  “I think this is a bad idea.”

  Redmond didn’t even waste a tired look in my direction. “Then wait out here.”

  We were on Woodward in Royal Oak, on the sidewalk in front of Tarot and Tea, a magic shop. This was Madame Maxine’s shop – and I have never had a positive experience here.

  “I’m not waiting out here,” I argued. “People might think I’m a prostitute or something.”

  Redmond glanced down at my Converse and shook his head. “Not in those shoes.”

  He had a point.

  “Well, I don’t want to rely on you to tell me what she knows.”

  It was a low blow, but I figured he deserved it.

  Redmond rolled his eyes. “Are you ever going to let this go?”

  “It’s been three hours.”

  “That’s like an eternity when a woman is hounding you,” Redmond replied. “This is why I’m not married.”

  Whatever.

  I squared my shoulders and followed Redmond into the store, letting him take the lead. It wasn’t that I saw him as a leader; it was more that I found it easier to hide behind his impressive shoulders. I’m a coward where Madame Maxine is concerned. I admit it.

  Tarot and Tea is one of those kitschy shops that appeals to faux wiccans and pagans. The shelves are covered with spell books and voodoo curses, while the racks are encumbered with incense bags and small glass balls. It’s basically a haven for confused teenage girls and desperate guys who think being a warlock gives them an edge.

  What most people don’t know, though, is that Tarot and Tea has a hidden agenda: The owner, Madame Maxine, really does have the gift. What gift? The sight. Sometimes, she can see the future.

  Madame Maxine is a self-taught witch and part-time clairvoyant. She’s a fifty-five-year-old ball of energy and master of the snarky comment. Under normal circumstances, I would love her. Since she keeps telling me I’m wasting my life, though, I have a big chip on my shoulder where she is concerned.

  Jerry had forced me into the shop during the Woodward Dream Cruise when we were teenagers. One tarot card reading later, Madame Maxine informed me that I was going to make one hundred wrong decisions before I finally made a right one. I wasn’t keeping count, but I really couldn’t argue with her insight -- not that I would ever tell her that.

  I had stayed out of the store for five years after that initial reading. Then, when I was twenty-one, Jerry had talked me into another drunken visit after the Ferndale Gay Pride Festival. Madame Maxine had informed me I still had a lot of wrong turns in my future, but that the right ones would eventually come. Rather than acknowledging she might be right, I called her a fraud and fled. I hadn’t been back since.

  I wasn’t looking forward to this visit.

  I purposely matched my movements to Redmond’s so I could remain hidden from prying eyes at the back of the store. Unfortunately, Madame Maxine was at her small tarot table – with a clear view of the door -- when we entered.

  Crap.

  “Well, look who has come back for another reading.”

  Redmond glanced down at me curiously but he didn’t comment. “Maxine,” he said, moving over to the table with his arms stretched wide. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “You, too, handsome.” She sent him a saucy wink as she got to her feet and hugged him. “It’s been too long.”

  “I’m not in this area often enough,” Redmond admitted. “I come in whenever I can, though.”

  “Every six months is whenever you can?” Madame Maxine didn’t look convinced.

  Redmond’s neck flushed with embarrassment. “I’ll do better.”

  “I surely hope so,” Madame Maxine pressed her lips to his cheek affectionately. “And who is this small girl hiding behind you?”

  Redmond stepped to the side to give Madame Maxine a clear view. “This is my sister, Aisling.”

  “I remember her.”

  “You’ve met?” Redmond didn’t exactly look surprised as much as he looked conflicted.

  “A few times,” Madame Maxine acknowledged at the exact same time I said “no.”

  Amusement flitted across Redmond’s face. “How do you two know each other?”

  “I’ve given her a reading or two,” Madame Maxine replied. “I don’t think she liked my insight.”

  I was suddenly fascinated by the Wild Berry incense display so I pretended that I didn’t hear the conversation. Since Redmond and I were the only customers in the store, though, it was difficult. I could feel Redmond’s eyes boring a hole in my back as I fingered the incense sticks, occasionally lifting one to my nose to test the scent. Maybe I should have stayed outside. Getting mistaken for a prostitute couldn’t be as uncomfortable as this, could it?

  “And what did those readings say?” Redmond was intrigued.

  I screwed up my face in disgust as I readied myself for Madame Maxine’s pronouncement.

  “You know that I keep all my readings confidential,” she said. “Don’t try to be cute.”

  I let out a long, shaky breath and finally found the courage to meet Madame Maxine’s blue eyes. I expected to find mirth and consternation, but all I discovered was warmth and sympathy.

  Hmm. Maybe Madame Maxine wasn’t as bad as I thought.

  “Are you still making bad decisions, girl?”

  Or maybe she was evil incarnate.

  “We’re not here about me,” I replied.

  “I figured.”

  “How?”

  “You both have dark auras,” Madame Maxine said, sinking back down in her chair. “That means you have serious issues on your mind. You’re worried.”

  Redmond maneuvered himself to the open seat across from Madame Maxine, settling his large frame in the small chair with more grace than I would have thought possible. “We have a problem.”

  “Define problem.”

  “There’s a wraith in the area.”

  Since Madame Maxine was aware of the supernatural population, I expected some sort of reaction. Fear. Panic. Mild interest. None of those emotions moved across her face, though.

  Instead, Madame Maxine reached up and pulled the wooden pick out of her gray hair, letting it fall to her shoulders in a mass of silky waves. For an older woman, she really was breathtaking. That bohemian chic thing she had going for her was pretty impressive, and I’m not just saying that because her ankle-length purple skirt had me considering trading in my Converse for comfortable pumps – or at least sensible flats.

  Redmond was the first to break the silence. “This isn’t a surprise to you?”

  “No,” Madame Maxine admitted. “It’s not.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I asked, my mind tangling with a series of insults.

  “Who should I tell?”

  “The Authority?” I suggested.

  Yes, we have a paranormal council. The members don’t have a lot of power, but they do have a wide range of information dissemination avenues. They could have at least made everyone aware of what was going on.

  “I’m not part of that group,” Madame Maxine reminded us. “I’m a solitary practitioner.”


  “That doesn’t mean you’re not responsible for what happens in this town,” I said.

  “How am I responsible?”

  “If you know a wraith is here – a wraith that’s killing people and sucking souls, mind you – you should report it to someone.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s wrong.”

  “It’s wrong to you,” Madame Maxine said, choosing her words carefully. “You’re a reaper, I get that. You have a job to do and a mantra to embrace. That doesn’t mean everyone believes in that mantra. People believe differently, young lady.”

  “So you think it’s okay for a parasite to live off the eternal life of others?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Aisling,” Redmond warned. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t do what you’re doing?”

  “You can’t think she’s right?” I was incredulous. Redmond is notorious for not rocking the boat, but he’s not exactly known for just sitting there and watching it sink.

  “I didn’t say that,” Redmond replied, his voice low and his purple eyes serious. “Why don’t you let me do the talking?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest obstinately. I hate it when he treats me like a child.

  “Let the girl talk,” Madame Maxine interjected. “She has an opinion and it’s her right to express it.”

  Redmond seemed surprised by Madame Maxine’s chiding. “I thought … .”

  “Just be quiet, boy,” Madame Maxine instructed. “This is between me and her.”

  Redmond opened his mouth to argue and then wisely snapped it shut. He sent me a sympathetic look before focusing on Madame Maxine and avoiding my heated glare.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I pressed.

  “I forgot what the question was.”

  “Are you okay with an abomination sucking the afterlife from people and then tossing them away like garbage?”

  Redmond cleared his throat in warning but I ignored him. Madame Maxine didn’t even seem to realize he was in the room.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell someone that there was a wraith in the area?”

  “Wraiths,” Madame Maxine corrected me.

  “Wraiths? Plural?”