Only the Quiet

by Amanda M. Lee

Eight

  “What just happened?”

  Braden was hot on my trail once we hit the parking lot, Kelly and her flirty eyes all but forgotten.

  I glanced over my shoulder and frowned when I saw the look of concern on his face. “You could’ve stayed with your new girlfriend.”

  “Oh, stuff it.” He clearly wasn’t in the mood to play passive-aggressive games. “What happened? Did you get a look inside that kid’s head?”

  I nodded, glancing back at the office and finding Kelly watching us from the window. “We should probably get out of here.”

  “Tell me.”

  “As soon as we’re away from this place.” I was firm. “I need some air.”

  He looked as if he wanted to argue further, but instead nodded. “Okay. Come on.” He opened the passenger door for me, something I found intriguingly dated, and then crossed to the driver’s door. “Where to next? Do you just want to get away or do you have a destination in mind?”

  That was a very good question. “Just drive for now.”

  “You’ve got it.” He pulled out onto the nearest road without further comment, occasionally checking the rearview mirror as he put distance between the school and us. He waited until he was on the freeway to speak again. “You’re okay, right? I mean ... I shouldn’t be driving you to the emergency room or anything, should I?”

  “That’s the last thing I want.” I rubbed my forehead as I attempted to organize my thoughts. “That little boy isn’t alone in there.” I blurted, even though I wasn’t certain what I was saying.

  “What do you mean?” He didn’t adjust his speed. “Are you saying he’s possessed?”

  “No. I’ve seen possessed people before, inside their minds. He’s not possessed … or, at least not possessed in the traditional manner. I guess that’s a better way of putting it.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “On a normal day I would say it’s good. Now I’m not so sure. I don’t know how to explain what I saw in there.”

  “Try me.”

  “Well, for starters, there’s a barrier.”

  “Like ... a magical barrier?” He made a face when I shot him a dirty look. “Hey, don’t get snarky with me, missy. I’m not used to the magic thing.”

  “You grew up and work in the paranormal world,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, but it’s not the same as dealing with a magical individual. I’m a reaper. My only gift is that I can see souls when they separate from a body.”

  “That’s kind of like seeing a ghost.” I rested my temple against the cool glass of the window. “I think that’s almost like what I saw ... only different.”

  He pulled off the freeway. I didn’t think to ask where we were going. Even when he pulled into a park, which was quiet given the time of day, I didn’t ask why he’d picked this location. He seemed to know where he was going, though, which was good enough.

  “Izzy, you’re starting to worry me,” he offered, flashing a smile that didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “You’re a little scattered. Now, don’t get me wrong, I like a woman who is goofy at times ... mostly because that means she’s less likely to laugh at me because I’m goofy. Still, you’re all over the place, and I don’t like it.”

  I didn’t know what to say so I simply met his gaze and shrugged.

  “That’s it?” he demanded “That’s all you’re going to say? Heck, you didn’t even say anything. I don’t like that either. I would vastly prefer you punch me or something.”

  I found my voice. “Is that what you like? Are the women in your life supposed to punch you?”

  “I only have one woman in my life with any regularity. That’s Aisling ... and she definitely likes to punch me. When we were kids, I told her she looked fat from behind and she hit me with a baseball bat. I lost three teeth and had a black eye for weeks.”

  “You probably deserved it,” I muttered.

  “I definitely deserved it. Still, I prefer you hit me rather than sit there and say nothing.”

  “I was taught that hitting boys was wrong unless they did something that earned a punch,” I offered. “I’m not keen on the idea of punching you.”

  “Great.” He flashed an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Go ahead and kiss me if that’s what you’re after. You don’t even have to ask ... at least this time.”

  “Ugh.” I made a disgusted sound in my throat. “Do you think that’s funny?”

  His smile was back, which gave me my answer. “I think I feel a little better than I did. Still, I would feel better if you told me what happened.”

  “I already told you. There’s something in that kid’s head.”

  “What? A ghost? Are you telling me that little boy has a ghost in his head? If so, we’ve got to find a way to get it out of there.”

  “Oh, really?” I rolled my eyes. “I never would’ve figured that out.”

  “At least the sarcasm is back.” He gently reached over and snagged my hand, giving it a good squeeze before prodding me further. “Tell me what you saw and we’ll figure it out.”

  “I’ve been trying to tell you.” It took everything I had not to snap at him. I knew he was attempting to help, but I wasn’t sure he could. He wasn’t magical. He said it himself. He was a player in the paranormal world, but he wasn’t a magical participant in The Game of Life, at least not in a manner that would be of any immediate benefit. “There’s something taking up residence in his head. I think it’s a man ... or at least was a man.”

  “So ... a ghost?”

  “Maybe. It’s definitely a displaced soul, but I don’t think it feels like a ghost.”

  “So, it’s something else. I don’t suppose it said anything of interest to you.”

  “Just to get out, but I did hear something in another voice. It sounded like a child’s voice.”

  “Granger’s voice?”

  “I don’t know. I guess that makes the most sense. If he’s trapped in there with this thing taking charge, perhaps he’s trying to figure out a way to escape.”

  “What did he say to you? I mean ... you said he whispered something. What was it?”

  “I can’t be sure.” I licked my lips, nervous.

  “Then tell me what you think you heard.”

  “A name. Ryan Carroll.”

  “Does that name mean anything to you?”

  “No. Does it mean anything to you?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I know someone who might be able to help us.”

  “Let me guess, he looks a lot like you — only with long hair — and has the same purple eyes.”

  “That would be the guy.” Braden released my hand and put the car into drive. “We need to head downtown.”

  “I thought we were going to see Cillian,” I argued. “Doesn’t that mean heading back to Grimlock Manor?”

  “No. He’s conducting research at the main library today. No one can concentrate with Lily around.”

  I felt bad for the baby. She was getting a reputation before she even realized she had a nose. “Lily will be okay,” I stressed. “She’s just upset because Aisling is upset.”

  He cast me a sidelong look as he navigated back toward the freeway. “Why is Aisling upset?”

  “She’s afraid she’s going to be a terrible mother. I already told your father this.”

  “Yes, well, Dad won’t spread information like that ... especially if he thinks it will upset Aisling. I don’t understand why she thinks she’ll be a bad mother. That’s ... ridiculous.”

  “Maybe it’s because your mother tried to kill her and she’s afraid she has that inside her.”

  His eyes went momentarily dark against his pale skin and then he recovered. “Our mother didn’t try to kill her,” he said finally. “That wasn’t our mother.”

  I knew the story. Lily Grimlock died when Braden was just out of his teens and starting out as a reaper. She went to collect a soul at a fire and never returned. He was haunted by it. Several years later, a woman popped up wearing
her face and claiming to be his mother ... but she was different.

  To hear Aisling tell the story, she knew from the start that the woman who returned wasn’t her mother. I tended to believe her, but I had my doubts about whether it was as easy to discard the woman as she pretended. The one thing all the Grimlocks agreed on was that Braden was crushed by the loss of his mother a second time. I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut while I was ahead. Of course he was annoyed by the mention of his mother trying to kill his sister.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” I offered hurriedly. “That was uncalled for.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Aisling is clearly struggling. I’m glad to know why so we can fix it. The sooner Lily stops screaming, the better.”

  “I didn’t mean what I said about your mother.” My stomach filled with a sick sort of dread. “It’s not fair. She’s your mother. I wouldn’t react well to anyone saying anything bad about my mother, and I barely remember her.”

  “It’s okay,” he repeated, his voice lower. “That wasn’t my mother. My mother would never try to kill Aisling. I understand why you’re concerned. I’m concerned, too.”

  I felt like a bit of an idiot. “Well ... I’m still sorry.”

  His smirk was back. “Don’t worry. I’ll come up with a way for you to make me feel better later.”

  “Geez!” I didn’t want to laugh. It would only encourage him. But I couldn’t stop myself. “You’re kind of a pervert, aren’t you?”

  “I’m totally a pervert, although I prefer it when people call me a connoisseur of all things perverted. You’ll get used to it.”

  “Good to know.”

  BRADEN KNEW HIS WAY around the main office, so he was in the lead when we arrived. This was only my second visit — my employment interviews were conducted online — so I was still unsure of where we were going until I recognized a beautiful marble hallway that led to a set of double doors.

  “I remember where we’re going now. I came here before … with Cillian.”

  “My brother has never met a library he doesn’t love,” Braden agreed, grinning. “He especially likes this one. He visits at least once a week.”

  “I thought your father had a full library. I mean ... I know you said Cillian doesn’t want to be around the baby. He could close the door and pretend he doesn’t hear her.”

  “Cillian wouldn’t purposely walk away from Lily no matter how loudly she’s crying. He’s like the rest of us. She’s family and we’ll deal with her no matter what it takes. He doesn’t live at Grimlock Manor any longer. Ever since he moved into an apartment with Maya, he comes here more often. It’s more convenient and he loves the room.”

  “Well, it is a spectacular room.” I let loose a long sigh as we entered, grinning when I caught sight of Cillian sitting on a couch near a fireplace. He had an absolutely huge book resting on his abdomen and his feet propped on a pillow. “He likes to make himself at home, huh?”

  Braden chuckled. “He does, especially if there are books around. Come on.”

  I fell into step behind him, watching Cillian for a hint of movement to suggest he realized he was no longer alone. We were almost on top of him before the long-haired Grimlock finally looked in our direction.

  “Do I even want to know what went wrong?” he asked with a grimace, immediately reaching for his phone. “Did I forget to turn it on again?”

  “We’re not here because you missed a call,” Braden replied. “We’re here because we need your help.”

  Cillian’s gaze spent a long time roaming over me before returning to his brother. “The last time you needed help you slept with a woman after meeting her at the bar and you couldn’t get her out of the house without help because she refused to leave. It took two of us to carry her. Please tell me this isn’t a repeat.”

  Braden’s eyes burned bright with embarrassment. “That is not exactly how I remember that story ... and thank you so much for bringing it up.”

  Cillian’s grin widened. “You’re welcome.”

  “We’re here for another reason,” Braden supplied. “It’s kind of a long story. I’ll try to keep it neat and tidy for you.” He launched into the tale, leaving nothing out. Oddly enough, he managed to be more succinct than I’d imagined. When he was finished, Cillian stroked his chin as he absorbed the new information.

  “Well, that’s weird,” he said finally.

  “You guys have a way with words,” I groused, shaking my head as I sank into the oversized armchair across from him.

  Cillian barked out a laugh as Braden took the other open chair. “You remind me of my sister sometimes. But you’re easier to get along with.”

  “Don’t compare her to Aisling.” Braden made a face. “It creeps me out.”

  “Yes, well ... from your perspective, I can understand that. Tell me more about the ghost thing in the kid’s head. Did it look like a soul that someone forgot to absorb?”

  That was a good question. “Not really. I mean ... I guess. The figure was ethereal. It was complete, though. Usually when I hop in someone’s head the only resistance I run into is their conscious mind, which doesn’t have a form. This had a freaking form.”

  “You’re saying it looked like a man.”

  “It definitely looked like a man.”

  “And you heard the little boy whispering a name.”

  I nodded. “Ryan Carroll. The name doesn’t mean anything to me. I’m sure that’s what he was saying. I got out of there as fast as I could because it was so weird.”

  “I would think taking up residence in anyone’s head is weird,” Cillian mused, rolling to a sitting position. “We need to find out who Ryan Carroll is, but I have no idea where we even start looking for that information.”

  “I do,” a new voice announced, causing me to practically jump out of my skin as I turned to my left. There, sitting on the floor in all his glory, was the gargoyle Bub. I’d met him upon my previous visit. He seemed to have a history with the Grimlocks that included an injury, maybe some betrayal and some weird in-joke about his tail. I couldn’t quite keep up on all of that.

  “You know, I should make you start wearing a bell,” Cillian shook his head. “You barely make any noise and you frighten people when they finally remember you’re here.”

  “I’m the librarian,” Bub pointed out soberly. “This is where I’m scheduled to hang out from nine to five, Monday through Friday. Also, you’re supposed to be quiet in a library. I’m sure that’s not how things work in your family — I’ve spent extensive time with your sister, after all, so I know better — but in polite circles you don’t yell your presence in a library.”

  “Oh, you’re an absolute delight,” Braden drawled. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed hanging out with you. Oh, wait, that’s totally not true.”

  “I see you got your wit from your father.” Bub was blasé as he flicked his eyes to me. “And who did you get your wit from? Was it your mother or father? I knew them both. Your father was much funnier.”

  I was surprised by the conversation shift. “You knew my parents?”

  “I did. I used to spend a lot of time on Belle Isle. I also knew you, but you probably don’t remember me. You tried to throw a ball and get me to chase it when you were three or so. I believe you thought I was a dog. I’ll try not to hold that against you.”

  Braden let loose a low chuckle. “Aisling kept calling you a dog-owl for days after she first met you. That’s kind of funny.”

  “You weren’t expected to fetch a ball.” Bub’s gaze was heavy on me before he turned to Cillian. “You mentioned the name Ryan Carroll. I’m familiar with that, too. I’m actually surprised you’re not.”

  Cillian arched an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to know that name?”

  “You should. He was a big reaper back in the day. We’re talking fifty years ago or so, but I’m positive he was renowned in some circles. I believe he used to throw rather extravagant parties.”

  “Wait.” I held up my hand to qu
iet him, flustered. “Are you saying the guy taking over Granger’s head is a former reaper?”

  Bub gave an approximation of a shrug. It was the best a gargoyle could do. “I have no idea who Granger is. I’m merely telling you who Ryan Carroll is.”

  “Well, son of a troll,” I muttered. “This keeps getting creepier.”

  “And here I thought it couldn’t get worse after you told me the ghost ordered you to get out of Granger’s head,” Braden said. “I guess I was wrong. There’s a first time for everything.”

  Cillian made a face. “Yeah. A first time. Whatever.” He flicked his eyes to me. “What do you think this means?”

  Why was he asking me? “I don’t know. I’m guessing it means we should do some research ... and talk to your father.”

  Braden heaved out a sigh. “I figured you were going to say that.”

  “Do you have a better idea?” I challenged.

  He shook his head. “No, but Dad won’t like this.”

  “When does he like any of the stuff we fall into?” Cillian queried. “I think there’s a book here that keeps track of all the old reapers from the area. I’ll try to find it. Other than that, I don’t know where to start looking.”

  “Do that.” I nodded. “I need answers. I’m not sure what to make of any of this.”

  Nine

  Cillian couldn’t find the book he was looking for and it frustrated him no end. He stomped around the library, ignoring the way Bub admonished him to be quiet, and pored through the reaper history books looking for Carroll’s name.

  He came up empty.

  His distraction, however, gave me an opening to talk to Bub.

  “So ... you really knew my parents?”

  Up close, the gargoyle was weathered and scarred. I had no idea how long gargoyles lived, but Bub looked as if he’d already led an interesting and full life. He almost died protecting Aisling from her mother. I was aware of the story, and that she went above and beyond to make sure Bub was taken care of after the fact ... even if he didn’t like eating cat food, which she assumed was his delicacy of choice for some reason.