Grim Judgment

by Jennifer Reinfried

  “I’m here to see Jessica,” I said. I held up the lilies as if they would gain me passage into the room they flanked.

  “She’s asleep, I’m sorry.” The younger woman, a blonde whose hair was flat and limp around her face, was obviously the mother, whom I’d seen before in passing. The other was in a nurse’s uniform, and she looked between Jessica’s mom and me before clearing her throat.

  “I’ll come back later,” she said, and turned to leave.

  “No, we need to figure this out. Just a minute.” The mother turned to me. “Who are you?”

  “I...I went to high school with Jessica,” I said. “If she’s resting, I can come back another time. Can you give these to her, though?”

  Her mother looked at the lilies with sad eyes and took them with a slow nod.

  “I’m so sorry for what’s happened,” I blurted. Before she could respond, I turned and quickly left.

  I can’t explain to you how ashamed I felt. I had thought I was doing the right thing when I tried to force Seth’s hand, and all my stupidity had made things way, way worse. I had put Jessica in danger, and created a mountain of bills her parents obviously couldn’t afford, none of which would have happened if it wasn’t for my idiocy. I’m not ashamed to admit that when I’d arrived home, I grabbed a hammer from the basement, went to my room, and beat the holy hell out of the stereo I’d been trying to fix for months.

  The next day, I arrived at work late, having overslept. I nodded at two men by the new arrivals as I made my way to the register. Chris eyed me up, but didn’t say anything about my unusual tardiness. Instead, he said, “Feeling better?”

  I nodded as I settled onto the stool behind the front counter. I still looked peaked, and my eyes were rimmed with red, but practicing the transfers had seemed to get my body used to some of the side effects, much to my relief. However, I no longer had the ability to feign sickness, so I’d grudgingly headed into Permanent Records. I knew it was for the best, though, because without something to take my mind off of Jessica, I would have gone batshit crazy.

  “I hit up a pretty sweet show last night,” Chris said from the second aisle, near the records starting with “F.”

  I grunted as the front door chimed, but didn’t look up. I wanted to sulk by myself and stare at the counter for a moment before I made conversation.

  “I have my ways, motherfucker,” a voice said. My blood froze.

  Seth was over the counter and on top of me before I could even look up. His fists pummeled my face with bright chunks of pain. It happened so fast I couldn’t even get my arms up to defend myself. I was on my back with my legs tangled in the stool. I managed to get my hands around one of his wrists just as his other fist landed on the side of my head.

  “You think you’re tough, don’t you, you piece of shit?” he screamed at me. Spittle flecked my face, hands and neck. “I bet you thought you could get away with it, huh?”

  He straddled me, then hit me over and over, fast. My world begin to fade. Blow after blow landed across my arms and chest as I defended my face. I thought of Jessica, thought of my mom, thought of my dad. Tears of pain flowed down my cheeks, and I screamed out loud in a heavy rasp of a yell.

  Suddenly, his weight was lifted clear off of me. I choked on blood as I drew in a deep breath. I lay on the floor gasping for air. My face throbbed. One of my eyes was already swelling shut. I couldn’t tell if anything was broken. I rolled over onto my stomach and looked up to see Chris restraining Seth along with the two male customers I’d passed coming into the store.

  “Hold him!” my manager yelled. He stood and grabbed the receiver of our phone. As he yelled into it, demanding cops get there at once, I rested my forehead against the gross vinyl flooring and closed my eyes. The pain in my body felt far away all of a sudden, and I was so, so tired. The last thing I remember from that day is Chris yelling my name, then I was gone.

  Chapter Seven

  NOW

  2016

  Jaxon slammed the tailgate of the Ford F-150 and moved around to the driver’s door. He stood outside of Sarah’s safe house with his arms crossed, watching her walk Shawn down the short driveway. His brother was smiling, eyes ahead, and something he said made the doctor laugh. Jaxon looked away, impatient. He tugged on the black, long-sleeved dress shirt Sarah had provided him, which matched the one Shawn wore. Although it had been an easy decision on his end, Jaxon had to tempt Shawn with the fact that Duncan could reverse his blindness before his brother agreed to depart.

  He watched as the pair approached, Shawn moving nimbly with his white walking stick waving in front of his feet. Although he’d been paralyzed and practically dead two weeks prior, his powers allowed him to heal in less time than anyone else could have. Not even any scars, Jaxon thought as his brother stopped on the other side of the truck, smiling.

  “Sarah, thank you again.” Shawn turned in her direction.

  “Of course.” She gave him a quick hug. “Please promise to be safe. If you see anything out of the ordinary at the funeral, leave right away.”

  “We will.”

  “Then you’re going straight to Duncan’s? After?”

  “Yes,” Jaxon said before his brother could reply. “Funeral, then Colorado. We’ve been over this a million times.”

  Sarah looked at him over the hood of the truck for a moment, then helped Shawn get inside.

  “Did you figure out a place to go?” Shawn asked her.

  “There’s a lovely place a few hours away called Astoria,” she replied. “I think we’re going to move there. Honestly, this safe house was set up by Duncan as a fall back before he and the others went to find you. We don’t need it any longer, but we can’t live near Redborough anymore, just in case.” She shrugged. “As long as we leave within the next day or so, we could go anywhere. We’re still discussing it.” Sarah shut the door once Shawn had settled, hesitated, then moved around the truck toward Jaxon.

  “Bruce took us through Astoria once, years ago.” Shawn’s voice was strained from inside the vehicle, his back squeaking along the vinyl as he adjusted himself in the seat. “You loved it there, Jax. Remember?”

  “Yep.”

  “Be safe.” Sarah pulled Jaxon into a quick, friendly hug as she had with Shawn.

  “Will do.” He hopped into the Ford and pulled the door shut behind him. Starting the engine, he turned the truck away from the house in the woods and started down its long driveway.

  “Nice ride.” Shawn tapped his fingers on the dashboard. “When Sarah said it was owned by the people who ran this place, I was expecting something older and louder. Is it manual?”

  “No.” Jaxon kept eyes intent on the uneven surface of the dirt road. “Dad never taught me how to drive stick.”

  “Me neither.” Shawn grinned, and Jaxon couldn’t help but smile in return. He’d been so on edge since the attack on the roof, hadn’t relaxed or even slept well since their rescue. He was aware of how short he’d been with his brother and those helping him recover at the safe house, but shrugged it off. They were finally on their way, and although they were headed to Cassie’s funeral, Jaxon couldn’t help but feel as if a weight had disappeared from his shoulders. Both Sarah and Duncan had warned him that Vance could be staking out the cemetery or the gathering that followed, but neither he nor Shawn were afraid. His grin stretched wider as he thought of his wraiths, his telekinesis. Just let them try and come for me.

  His brother interrupted Jaxon’s malicious train of thought.

  “So we’re finally alone.” Shawn’s voice was quiet. “Away from everyone, like you requested. Now will you tell me what the fuck that was on the roof?”

  —-

  As Isaac approached a half open door, he heard Vance’s Russian accent drift into the hallway.

  “That is enough, that is enough.”

  “Need anything else?” Isaac recognized the voice of Volk, their Head of Finance, a short, older man with intense eyes. He slipped into the room just as Volk str
aightened from his position over a table, where he had been pouring a glass of tequila for the crime boss.

  Vance looked impatient. “Bring me another glass. And get rid of this.” He waved a large hand toward a few small bundles of white powder.

  Volk turned toward the door of the room and nearly collided with Isaac, who nodded at him and smiled.

  “I’m a big boy,” Isaac said, watching Volk leave with the drugs underneath one arm. “You don’t have to hide cocaine from me.”

  Vance waved him over. “When my sister died from an overdose, I promised I would never let her son follow. Have a seat.” He watched as Isaac lowered himself into a chair. “How have you been? Healing nicely, I hope?”

  “Yeah. Tired, though.”

  Volk was silent as he re-entered the room. He carried another rocks glass in one of his well-manicured hands.

  Vance smiled. “Ah, thank you, my friend. Over here is fine.”

  Once Volk had left the room again Vance pried open the tequila and poured a few ounces into the empty glass, which he slid toward Isaac.

  “I’m okay.”

  “No, you are not, plemyannik. You have been moping around this bunker for the last two weeks.”

  “I’ve been healing, sir. Remember? I was stabbed?”

  “Yes, yes. But we have been here long enough for me to notice that it is not just your wounds bringing you down. Tell me, what is the problem?” Vance took a swallow of tequila.

  “Nothing, I’m just tired lately. I’m fine.”

  Vance cocked an eyebrow and glanced at the glass before Isaac, who sighed and picked it up.

  “So if you are fine, why do you sit in your room all day, even during meals?”

  “Who cares? It’s not like we’re a big, loving family.”

  “You are family.” Vance’s tone grew irritable. “And you know that I care for my employees as if they were, too.”

  Isaac stared at his glass, then brought it to his lips and threw his head back, curls bouncing with the motion. He swallowed and made a face.

  “So. What is bothering you?”

  “Well, for one, being here. Not being allowed to make calls, no Internet, having to just sit here and—”

  “The secluded nature of our hideout is imperative for our safety. You know this.”

  Isaac nodded and he downed a second mouthful. The booze warmed him from throat to stomach. He held out his glass for a refill.

  Vance frowned, but poured another drink. “And for two?”

  “Huh? Oh.” Isaac glanced away. His free hand fell to rest on a rectangular bulge in his pocket. “I just want to find Emma. She’s out there, on her own, unprotected. Jaxon could be anywhere. If you’d let me have my cell back, I could be calling her, trying to help find her.”

  “Or Jaxon could have found and killed her already.”

  Isaac didn’t say anything. He stared at the liquid in his glass. Stop talking so much. You’ll sound desperate. If you can get him to release you to help track Emma down, you can—

  Vance spoke again. “I only mean that sitting here worrying about her isn’t going to help you or change her fate. I have eyes and ears all over Redborough. I have Grant and our people on the outside looking for her as well as the monster you describe.” He tossed back his own pull of tequila, then added more to his own glass. He regarded Isaac with raised eyebrows. “Look, I know what is going on here.”

  “What?” Isaac felt a tingle of fear in his gut, but kept his face impassive. He sipped his drink and shuddered. “This is disgusting.”

  “I know she means something to you.”

  The alcohol was making Isaac feel courageous. He met his uncle’s gaze. “Let me find her.”

  “That sounded more like an order than a request.” Vance cocked an eyebrow.

  “If I could just have my phone back...”

  “It could be tracked.”

  Like you track us? Isaac was terrified to find he almost couldn’t repress a snort of sarcastic laughter. Okay, slow down on the booze. “You really think Jaxon knows how to track phones? Or has the resources?”

  “No.” Vance shrugged. “But we do not know of how much Grim is capable.”

  “Then let me leave.” Isaac let his gaze bore into Vance. “I can find her for you, bring her back. She’ll listen to me.”

  “You need to heal. My men on the—”

  “I have healed.”

  “Two weeks and a handful of days is not enough time after being stabbed.” Vance took another sip. “Once Wallace has cleared you, you can leave.”

  Isaac’s heart leapt into his throat. He forced himself to not grin, and instead kept his eyes hard, his voice determined. “I’m done waiting.”

  Vance was quiet for a moment. Isaac sat back and looked at his lap. Fuck, I went too far. His breathing increased, and he clenched his fists underneath the table until his fingers hurt. Please don’t hurt me. Please let me go. You trust me, you know you do. Let me go.

  “I cannot afford to lose another family member,” Vance finally said. He shrugged. “But if you are so determined to bring her back to us, I cannot say no. Maybe she will listen to you over Grant and the rest.”

  Isaac drew in a short breath, elation replacing the warmth in his body. He laughed, ignoring how his surroundings shuddered and tilted in slight back and forth motions. Drinking on a stomach that’s been empty for a day and a half. Smart. “You know,” he said, “everyone sees you as this big, terrifying mobster, but in reality, you’re just this huge, friendly bear.”

  Vance roared with laughter. “You think I am some big, cuddly teddy bear? Are you out of your mind?”

  “Damn right.” Isaac snorted.

  “Huh.” Vance uttered. His laughter faded, and he grinned at Isaac. “You care for her, yes. You will use that to bring her back to me.” He raised his glass in Isaac’s direction, who lifted his own with a crooked grin. They each took a large swallow of the tequila before Vance spoke again. “What is in your pocket?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just a deck of cards.”

  “You carry cards around with you?”

  “No, I...” Isaac hesitated, swirling his drink in one hand.

  “You what? Out with it.”

  “It’s just a game.” Isaac pulled the box from his pocket and dropped it on the table. The Russian took it in his large hands and looked it over, raising an eyebrow at the spaceships and bright stars. He flipped it around to study more illustrations of aliens and humans.

  “It was in my stuff from home.” Isaac shrugged. “In the things Grant and his associates brought to us. I was going to give it to Emma at some point but kept forgetting.” Isaac glanced up, and he quickly added, “She likes games.”

  “Ah, yes. Emma.” Vance’s hard gaze flicked up to him. “Tell me, how long has that been going on, hmm?”

  “Truthfully, there isn’t anything going on.” His heart thudded. He was terrified of saying the wrong thing that would turn the big man on him or get his release revoked. Or get myself tortured to death.

  “Have you told her you are my nephew?”

  Isaac blinked. “Hell no.”

  “Good. We keep it a secret which will also keep you safe.” Vance opened the top of the small box of cards and peered inside.

  “Yeah,” was all Isaac said.

  “You will find her, and you will bring her back to me. I will question her.” Isaac winced at that, but Vance was still examining the deck of cards. “And you can stop moping and start contributing to the cause of tracking down Shawn and his psychotic brother. You can leave tomorrow night. For now, you need to keep healing, you need to stay calm and collected, and you need to show me how to play this game.”

  “What? Really?”

  “Sure. We have nothing else to do. Here, what is this?” Vance picked up the first card and waved it in Isaac’s direction, who laughed.

  “No, you have to deal out a hand.” He picked up the deck, shuffling it for a moment, and dealt five cards for both of them. />
  “Now what? Do I look at them?”

  “Yes, pick them up. They’ll tell you what they do on the front.”

  Vance gathered the cards into his hand and turned them over. “This is confusing.”

  “Just a minute, just a minute.” Isaac took another large swallow of his tequila, grimaced, then leaned forward over the table, his own cards in hand. “You have to make a plan to take me out based only on what you have. For example, I could throw this card out, which does seven damage, but you have to put one down, too.” He gestured at Vance, who looked at his hand.

  “I like this one.” The Russian tossed a card with a depiction of a large, bulky ship on top of Isaac’s.

  “Okay, so, your shield only stops five of my damage, meaning the rest hit you, so I win that round.”

  “You tell me this tiny little ship destroys my battle cruiser? Ridiculous!” Vance scoffed.

  “Your accent gets worse as you drink, you know.” Isaac laughed and swiped the two cards aside. “Okay, draw a new card from the deck and we go again.”

  The pair tossed a card each onto the table. Isaac leaned forward while Vance took a pull off his own drink.

  “Okay, you need to pay attention to how much damage you do versus how much health your card has.”

  “I lost again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened?”

  “Your alien race got wiped out by my plague.”

  “I hate this game already.”

  Isaac laughed. “I never told you to play it. Go again.”

  Vance sighed, then drew a new card and studied his hand. After a few moments, he pulled a card with a drawing of a large explosion and tossed it in Isaac’s direction.

  “Whoa, there. Wait until I’m ready.” Isaac tossed his own attack out, then studied the play. “You blew yourself up?”

  “What?” Vance looked to the ceiling, exasperated.

  “Well, technically, if you get the card that resets your—”

  “Why so many rules?” Vance demanded.

  “Because half the fun is learning how to outsmart your opponent.”