Grim Judgment

by Jennifer Reinfried

  Jaxon leaned forward and put his face in his hands, the truth of what happened weighing on his back, crushing him. Shawn hit me. Shawn stopped me. He clenched his teeth and his fists tightly. We were supposed to be a team, supposed to take these fucks out together. He looked up at his brother, his best friend, the one person he’d trusted not to take advantage of him, not to deceive him. He’s turned on me.

  A soft groan escaped his mouth as Jaxon stood from the bed, which creaked from the release of his weight. He eyed Shawn, staring at the man he thought he knew, who had betrayed him, anger and hurt taking turns crashing through him. He slowly reached out with his mind and felt Shawn’s heart, then let go. No.

  What the fuck’s the matter with you?

  With a shudder wracking his spine, Jaxon turned and left the room, knowing at that moment he couldn’t trust himself not to hurt his brother.

  He entered the quiet hallway. The lights were dimmed, but an illumination came from the bottom of the stairway that he approached. A grin pulled at his lips as he quietly made his way down the steps, through the empty dining room, and down into the basement.

  Jaxon stood on the concrete floor, eyes widening as they took in the damaged door of Isaac’s holding room. Reaching out with his mind, he flung the door open as he strode forward, its hinges creaking a protest. No, no, no, no, fucking no.

  It was empty. Isaac was gone.

  Mouth in a sneer, Jaxon clenched his fists, staring at the floor where the small table lay smashed. He glanced at the scratches and gouges in the door, putting the events together as his rage boiled.

  Slowly, he turned, fingers tangling in his hair. Pain pricked his eyes, bringing tears to them as he pulled. “God fucking dammit,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. A familiar surge of power coursed through him, and the pieces of the broken table flew away from him, clattering into the cheap bed and far walls. Another pulse, stronger than the first, rattled the door frame and shook dust from the light fixture above. Jaxon reached for a third when a clunk sounded through the basement.

  Snarling, without thinking, he whirled toward the noise, reaching out with his mind just as Naomi stepped into the dim light from the bathroom.

  Her neck snapped in two before Jaxon even realized what he’d done.

  She died instantly, crumpling to the floor in front of the stairs.

  Oh, my God, no. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Mouth hanging open, Jaxon took a step forward. Adrenaline that had coursed through him began to simmer in the wake of what he’d done. Trembles shook his fingers, and his legs weakened. You...you killed her. She didn’t...oh, fuck. Panic grew in his chest, replacing his shock. What do I do, what do I do?

  Jaxon reached down, took her by her slight wrists, and pulled her back into the basement depths, intent on putting her body in Isaac’s room. As he stepped backward, he found it difficult to look away from the blank look on her face as her head lolled side to side. His heartbeat quickened. What have I done?

  Swallowing a large lump in his throat, Jaxon gently lowered Naomi’s body back to the floor. Without a second glance around, he exited the room, pulling the busted door shut with his mind as best he could.

  Climbing the stairs two at a time in beat with his heart, Jaxon hurried to his room where Shawn still slept. He knelt by the bed, the hardwood floor painful on his kneecaps, and pulled his half-empty bag toward him. As quietly as possible, tossing glances over his shoulder at his brother, he threw the few changes of clothes he had into bundles and stuffed them away. He then reached up to the shelf in the closet, standing on his toes. With a soft grunt, he strained upward until his fingertips brushed the cardboard box they had brought. He inched it off the shelf until he was able to grab its side, pulling it close to his chest. Ignoring everything else, Jaxon blinked at the figure next to his bed for a moment.

  I’m sorry, Shawn. I’m a monster.

  Chapter Sixteen

  NOW

  2016

  Grant walked out of the O’Hare Airport in Chicago, Illinois. “Didn’t think I’d be back in this dump any time soon,” he growled to himself. He hefted his duffel bag, the only item he’d brought with him. He holstered his gun underneath his suit coat after proving his identity to the required airport personnel.

  Maneuvering his way through the sparse crowds he glowered with irritation. Pulling out his cell phone with one hand, he dialed his boss.

  “Yes?” The Russian accent that unnerved him to that day sounded in his ear on the first ring.

  “Just landed in Chicago. Still no word from Isaac?”

  “None.”

  “Well, I scoured the Colorado town he was in myself, but didn’t find a trace. However, I did get in contact with the police department there. Let them know we were on the lookout, gave ‘em his description. They’ll call me if they find anything.”

  “Good.”

  “He could have gone anywhere, you know,” Grant said as he twisted his body in time to avoid a collision with a squealing little girl who was running full tilt. He growled but kept moving.

  “Yes, I get that. What are you saying to me?”

  “Just that, no offense, but sending me there was kind of a waste of time.”

  “Questioning my orders will piss me off, Grant.”

  “Sorry.” He reached the exit and pulled open one of the tall, glass doors. Looking around for an available cab, he said, “I’m not trying to be rude.”

  “I know. Perhaps you will have better luck in Chicago finding our Head of Narcotics.”

  “I hope so.” Grant pulled his phone away from his ear and hit the red end button. He grinned. Now who’s hanging up on who?

  When he looked up, a bright yellow cab was just pulling to the curb a few feet away from him. He lifted his arm, shrugged the strap of his bag to adjust it, and approached the vehicle.

  “Where ya headed?” the cab driver asked through an open window.

  “Downtown.”

  “Hop in. Anywhere in particular?”

  “What’s a good sushi joint?” Grant asked as he slid himself into the back seat.

  “Oh man. I’m not big on sushi, but I’ve heard good things about The Koi down on the South Loop.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Grant looked down at his phone, still in hand, which had started to buzz. A text had come through from Vance: NOW I am pissed off.

  He chuckled. “‘Now I am pissed off’,” he muttered to himself in an exaggerated Russian accent.

  Another, longer buzzing began. Grant frowned at the word “unknown” as it flashed on his screen. He hesitated, then accepted the call.

  “Officer Halpern.”

  “I’m surprised you answered.” The voice on the other line was light, friendly, and unfamiliar.

  “Who is this?”

  “Your enemy.”

  Grant’s blood chilled. “Who is this?” he repeated.

  “Look, I have something you want. A nice, long, detailed list of every one of Vance’s employees, including their photos, locations, contact info. I’ve used it already. Twice. I found old man Syrus, who begged me to kill him after only seven minutes. I did, after I questioned him. I also found Cipriano. Funny name, but he wasn’t that friendly, so I took my time killing him.”

  By then, Grant’s eyes had widened and his heart rate quickened so much that it shook his torso. “What is it that you want?” he asked quietly.

  “The cops still haven’t found their bodies, which disappoints me,” the man on the other line continued, ignoring the question. “I thought I’d made them quite obvious, but whatever. They’ll be found soon enough.”

  “What do you want?” Grant said, louder. He saw the eyes of the cab driver flick up to the rearview mirror then glance away.

  “I want to make a deal.” The voice said. “Will you do that?”

  “Which is what?”

  “Meet me, alone, and we’ll talk. If you do that, and we make my deal, I’ll turn the list over to you, and take the wrath of Grim and myself off of Vance and hi
s people.”

  His mind whirled.

  “Oh, and Grant?” the voice said with almost a laugh. “If you bring anyone, alert anyone to the location I give you...well, you know damn well what I can do to them before I turn my vengeance on you. You’ve seen my powers, my wraiths. I know you saw the damage on Alex’s body. Do not fuck with me. Come alone, or the deaths of many, many more will be on your head before I end your life.” There was a menacing pause. “Do we have an understanding?”

  “Yes,” Grant said, roughly. “Tell me where to meet you.”

  —-

  “Don’t be mad. I brought pie. You can’t be mad if I bring pie.”

  Emma stared at Isaac as he stood in the dimly lit hallway of her Boston flat. He flashed an apologetic smile at her, but felt his confidence falter almost immediately. She looked pained, but not angry. Her expression switched from despair to what seemed like acceptance. She expected me days ago. Days. Then I was kidnapped, my phone smashed. Of course she’s upset...she thought I was dead.

  “You’re alive.” She leaned her forehead against the hollow wooden door and sighed. “Oh, thank God.” Before he could reply, her arms were around his neck. They stood in her open doorway for a long moment, simply holding each other.

  “Hey.” Isaac let go. “Come on, don’t I get any credit for the weeks I’ve spent trying to find you? You don’t even want to know how I got to you?”

  Emma only glared at him. He held up the pie and wiggled it.

  “What kind?” She eyed it.

  “Strawberry.” He grinned. “Your favorite.”

  She took the round container from his hands and, without making eye contact, shuffled off to the kitchen and slid it inside her refrigerator.

  “Nice place.” He slipped his shoes and coat off.

  Emma walked back to him finally looked into his eyes. “Isaac...I thought you were dead.”

  “I’m sorry, but—”

  “You know, Jaxon could show up at any minute. I rent places two months at a time at most, then move again. I’m exhausted, but I’m alive.”

  “I know where he is. He and Shawn are holed up in Colorado. They know I know where they are, but they have no idea where I am.”

  “How the hell do you know where they are? And how did you find me? Your phone stopped working, and I wasn’t even able to give you an address to meet.”

  Isaac grimaced briefly. “Long story.” He took a step toward her. “But they can’t find us now.” He stopped himself before telling her about Grant. I can tell her later. She’s been through enough right now.

  Emma’s sad expression turned away from him as she padded over to a dingy couch and sat down, face in her hands. “I don’t care. If you’re with me and Jaxon does show up...Isaac, I couldn’t forgive myself if you got hurt again. I should have never told you where to find me.” She dropped her face into her hands.

  He moved to her side and sat next to her. The couch smelled slightly musty and old. “No,” he said. “Don’t say that.”

  Anger flashed in her eyes as she turned on him. “You have no idea how it felt to see you stabbed.” Her voice cracked, but rose in volume. “To see you thrown across the roof. To see all that blood spilling out of you. To know there was nothing I could do to help you, to ease your pain.”

  “Pretty sure it felt the same way I did when Alex was choking you. When Nate came out of nowhere and I thought he was going to kill you. When you were out in the open, in danger of Alex’s wild shots and Jaxon’s...whatever that was.” He took her hand. “I care about you just as much as you care about me, Emma.”

  Isaac reached into his pocket and closed his fingers around the balled up nylon of Laska’s collar. He hesitated only a moment, then pulled it free. A sadness rose in his throat as Emma saw the light blue ring. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and her shoulders shuddered once, but when she opened them again, they were dry. She picked up the collar, running a thumb across the small heart-shaped tag.

  “You were on your phone that night. When you came up with Laska’s name. I remember. You said you made it up, but you didn’t, did you?”

  “No.” This was it. No one knew they were there. No one was going to attack them. No one was going to stop him from finally being able to admit his feelings. Yet he still hesitated. What if I’m wrong? he thought, but it was quickly followed by Who the hell cares anymore? You almost lost her. Just tell her. Now.

  Nearly numb with nervousness, he covered her fingers with his and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. He looked into her eyes, then said in a clear and steady voice, “Emma, I’m madly in love with you.”

  Her gaze pierced into him for seconds that dragged into hours. Isaac’s fear increased the beating of his heart, the breaths he took, and he struggled to keep his face impassive.

  “Goddammit,” Emma whispered.

  Isaac’s heart fell. It dropped from its place in his chest down to his stomach where he swore he could feel it shatter. He looked away.

  “Why...why didn’t you tell me that sooner?” she continued.

  “You wanted to stay friends, I figured—”

  “You wanted to stay friends, Isaac. You said it was too awkward for you. I only agreed so I didn’t make you uncomfortable!”

  “I was wrong. I thought that at first, but by the time I realized I’d made a mistake, you were with some other guy.” He blinked. “Wait, what? What do you mean you only agreed...?”

  Emma gaped at him. “You idiot!” She pushed her hands into his chest.

  “What?” he said, now completely aporetic. “I’m so confused.”

  She closed her eyes and rubbed the fingers of one hand against her temple. “I feel the same way about you. If you would have told me sooner,” she said harshly, “I would have left with you, no hesitation! We could have—” Her voice trailed off as she swayed on the couch.

  “Emma...Emma, are you all right?” Isaac reached for her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking away. “I...I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  Isaac felt his heart contract as he watched her face crumple before him.

  “I’ve been taking some pills.”

  “What? Why?” Isaac frowned.

  “I’m terrified. Terrified I’m going to be attacked, killed. Every moment that goes by I feel like somebody's watching me. No matter how often I move, the dreams follow, keep me up at night, keep me paranoid.”

  “Emma...” He moved closer to her and wrapped her into a tight hug. He felt her arms close around his torso, smelled the scent of her soft hair. Her body expanded as she took a deep breath, then another, before she pulled away.

  “It’s late,” Isaac murmured. He lifted a hand to her face and wiped wetness from her face in a gentle motion. “You’re exhausted. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you have cable here? We can watch something until you want to go to bed?” He smiled when she nodded again.

  Pushing from his mind the fear of the unknown, of the thought that Mari might have lied, that he’d been followed, that Jaxon might somehow find them, he put his arm around Emma. They settled on the cushions. He leaned into to her, a bright, throbbing warmth in his chest. I feel the same way about you. She said that. The memory brought an uncontrollable smile to his face. The feeling only intensified as Emma instantly snuggled up next to him, her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence as a movie unfolded before their eyes.

  After only twenty minutes, Isaac could feel that her breath had evened out. His eyes were getting heavy as well; it was late, and he’d had a long, event filled few days full of intense emotions. Before he knew it, his consciousness drifted off as he fell into a deep, dark slumber.

  —-

  “Drop your weapon, Grant,” Jaxon said. “You know I can release my power faster than you can shoot me. You’ve seen it.”

  Grant stood still for a moment, pistol trained at the man before him. He was exhausted, having waited in a Chicago hotel room for h
ours after the call from Jaxon, waiting to hear of a meeting place, but now fear kept him wide awake.

  The nose of his gun wavered slightly, and his trigger finger tightened. Grant felt a bead of sweat slowly make its way down his forehead, between his eyebrows, and along the side of his nose. He’s not lyin’ to me, he thought. But I’m not about to take my chances. Fuck it. Grant pulled the trigger.

  There was a moment, the very slightest of a moment, in which he thought he’d succeeded. Jaxon stumbled backward at the sound of the gun firing. Grant’s heart leapt in excitement, but it quickly withered at the sound of laughter echoing throughout the construction site he’d been lured to. He watched Jaxon straighten, no wound in sight.

  “Got ya,” the man said, eyes bright with amusement.

  Grant aimed his sight down the barrel of his pistol once more, tightened his grip, fingered the trigger, and felt a sudden piercing pain lance through his right arm with a simultaneous snap. His gun fell to the concrete floor with a loud clatter as Grant released a scream of agony. He stared at his hand and took in his fingers, all of which were bent grotesquely at different angles. He began to pant, tears of pain in the corners of his eyes.

  “See,” Jaxon said, “Not only can I shoot these wicked shockwaves out of me, but I can control these wraiths, and they—”

  “Yeah,” gasped Grant. “I’ve fuckin’ seen them. I don’t need your bullshit villain story.”

  “Let me finish!” Jaxon screamed. A small burst of energy, invisible to Grant, pushed dust and debris along the floor.

  Jaxon paused and seemingly collected his thoughts before he continued. Grant stood still, breathing heavily through his nose from the pain of his broken fingers.

  “I’ve been testing myself, pushing myself,” said Jaxon. “I can call my wraiths, sure, but I can do so much more.” He grinned broadly.

  Fucker’s proud of himself, Grant thought. His eyes flicked down to the floor where his pistol sat, then moved back up as Jaxon spoke again.