Grim Tidings

by Amanda M. Lee

  He had a point, although I don’t think he realized it.

  “You’re not on a list,” I said after a second. “I’m not either. If we were, my brothers would have been tipped off that something was going down and they would have locked me in the manor and kept me under armed guard.”

  Griffin looked confused. “Is that a good thing?”

  “That we’re not a list? Yeah.”

  “Does that mean we’re not going to die here?”

  Now wasn’t the time to lie. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “If a wraith sucks us dry, there’s no soul to collect.”

  “So we might not show up on the list,” Griffin mused.

  “Still, if our deaths are ordained, we should show up on the list.” I was trying to make both of us feel better.

  “So, we might still get out of this?” Griffin was hopeful.

  “If we’re lucky.”

  “Any idea how?” Griffin wasn’t going to rely on hope. He was the sort of man who needed a plan.

  “I have one idea,” I said.

  “And that is?”

  “Aidan.”

  “Aidan? He doesn’t know you came here, does he?” Griffin’s face flooded with anger. “How could he let you come here in the middle of the night after everything that’s happened?”

  “I didn’t tell him before I left,” I explained. “I texted him before I tried to get in the mausoleum.”

  “Which was stupid.”

  “Why didn’t you try to stop me earlier then?”

  “Because I wasn’t sure what you were doing,” Griffin admitted. “Then, when I saw you came to a cemetery in the middle of the night, I wanted to follow you and find out what you were doing.”

  Realization dawned on me. “You were spying on me. You thought I was hiding something from you.”

  Griffin bit the inside of his cheek. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “You thought I was lying.”

  “I didn’t think you were lying,” he hedged. “I thought maybe you knew something and you didn’t want to tell me.”

  How is that different from lying? “I am insulted.”

  “Well, great, that should help the situation,” Griffin replied.

  “Sarcasm isn’t going to help either.”

  “Really?”

  He wasn’t so cute anymore. Oh, who am I kidding? He’s still hot. He’s just a royal pain in the ass, too.

  “We just have to remain calm,” I said. “The wraiths were obviously ordered not to kill us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because whoever is in charge wants something else.”

  “And what would that be?”

  I remained silent, but Griffin knew.

  “You,” he breathed. “She wants you.”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea,” I replied honestly.

  “So, basically, we’re at the whim of a crazy woman who is trying to use wraiths to keep herself alive,” Griffin said. “We have no idea whether your brother even knows he has a text from you, but we have a good idea you’re the prize in this scenario and I’m just cannon fodder.”

  I knew he was thinking out loud, but Griffin’s tone chafed. “Aidan sleeps with that phone by his head. He knows. He’s on his way.”

  Under normal circumstances that would be true. Jerry and Aidan’s new relationship wasn’t normal, though. Still, he was my best hope – my only hope, actually.

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “I have to,” I said. “He’s never let me down before. He won’t start now.”

  Griffin sighed. “I hope your faith in your family isn’t misplaced.”

  “My faith in my family is never misplaced,” I countered. “They’re good people. They’re good men.”

  Griffin tightened his arm around my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Aisling.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’m not,” Griffin admitted. “That’s just what you say in situations like this.”

  “Have you been in a lot of situations like this?”

  “No,” Griffin shook his head. “I have faith in you, though. If you believe in them, I believe in them.”

  I rested my head on Griffin’s shoulder, taking strength from his belief. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” he repeated.

  We both jumped when the door to the mausoleum opened. Part of me expected Aidan to be standing there, eyes blazing, churlish remark about my stupidity on his lips. Instead, a red-haired woman in a purple cloak and velvet dress – totally tacky, by the way -- walked into the crypt.

  Her skin was chalky, her lips bright red and her eyes – well, they were as black as coal.

  I don’t know how I knew. I didn’t really know – it was more of a guess really. I said it anyway. “You’re Genevieve Torth, aren’t you?”

  The woman smiled, revealing a row of teeth that harkened back to the days before dentists began working their magic.

  “Hello, Aisling Grimlock,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Thirty-Eight

  I tried to wrap my brain around our predicament. I decided to go with snark and sarcasm. They were my best defense.

  “Well, you know women, we’re always late.”

  Griffin grunted next to me, but kept his thoughts to himself.

  “Yes, that is a particular weakness of our gender,” the woman agreed. “Still, I’m betting you’re worth the wait.”

  I wasn’t sure how to take that statement, so I ignored it. “So, are you Genevieve Torth?”

  The woman nodded, smoothing her dress as she leaned against the wall. She hadn’t brought the wraiths in with her – which meant she didn’t fear us – but she was keeping her distance. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

  “Reputation, urban legend, horror story,” I said. “None of them are particularly flattering.”

  “And what is it you think you know about me, my dear?”

  “I think you’ve been sacrificing people for centuries as a way to prolong your own life,” I replied. “I think you’ve changed your identity multiple times, but some things can’t be changed.” Like narcissism and a God complex.

  “And yet you had no idea I was still alive,” Genevieve said. “I guess I must have been doing something right.”

  “Yeah? What was that?”

  “I am 362 years old,” she replied. “That should earn some measure of respect, even from a girl such as you.”

  “Respect is earned,” I countered. “You haven’t earned squat.”

  “I’ve earned the right not to be talked down to by a child,” Genevieve warned. “I would be careful with your tone.”

  “Why? You’re either going to kill me or you’re not. I don’t see how my tone is going to change the outcome.”

  Genevieve smiled again. It was eerie. She tilted her head to the side, considering. “You have a point.”

  “Great,” I said. “Now that we agree on something, I don’t suppose you could just cut to the chase. Why are you here? And how are you still alive?”

  “Here in this mausoleum? Or here in Michigan?”

  “Both, actually.”

  “Well, we’re in this mausoleum because this is where my family is,” she said. “And, despite all I’ve seen, I still have a certain … love for my family.”

  Now I was confused. “You’re an Olivet?”

  “No,” Genevieve replied, shaking her head. “My daughter married one, though.”

  So she did have a daughter. “And what happened to her? She didn’t want to live forever?”

  “No, my Angelica was more pragmatic,” Genevieve explained. “She believed we were only supposed to live on this Earth for a short time and then move on to something better. That was a belief I couldn’t get behind.”

  “She was religious?”

  “She was a Christian,” Genevieve said, her disdain evident. “I tried to explain the stu
pidity of that choice, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “Maybe she didn’t think it was stupid,” I said. “Maybe she wanted to believe in something bigger. Maybe she was right.”

  “She died when she was 32, in childbirth,” Genevieve shot back. “How right could she be?”

  “So she married into the Olivet family, had a child and cast off your beliefs,” I mused, thinking of my father. “That must have driven you crazy.”

  “It didn’t sit well,” Genevieve agreed. “I went back to Salem before her death and tried to change her mind, but she was adamant she was right. Look how that turned out for her.”

  “Kids,” I shrugged. “They’re going to follow their own path, no matter what you want them to do.”

  “This is true,” Genevieve said.

  “How come none of the history texts mention her?” I was stalling for time. The longer I kept Genevieve talking, the longer Aidan had to realize I was in trouble.

  “Angelica went to great lengths to disavow any ties to me,” she replied. “She changed her last name before the problems in Salem arose. She knew what I was doing. She wanted to leave. She just couldn’t come up with a plausible reason for her husband to uproot his entire existence, though, so she stayed.”

  “It must have been hard for her,” I said. “And you, actually. Did she make you pretend you didn’t know her?”

  “We made an … exchange,” Genevieve said. “I agreed to keep her secret, if she agreed to keep mine.”

  “And did she? Keep yours, I mean. It must have been hard for her when she found out you were sacrificing innocent women to protect your secret.”

  “You understand this better than I could have hoped,” she said. “Yes, when it became apparent what I was doing, Angelica had some … issues.”

  That didn’t sound good. “And how did you handle those issues?”

  “Do you think I killed her?”

  “No,” I replied honestly. “You said she died in childbirth. That would have been long after you fled Salem.”

  “You are correct,” Genevieve’s smile was genuine, if no less creepy. “I considered killing her. I know, coming from a mother that sounds horrible. I was at a crossroads, though. I didn’t want to leave my home, but I didn’t want to kill my daughter.”

  “She told the truth, didn’t she?”

  “She did.”

  “That’s why you ran.”

  “Yes.”

  Griffin was silent next to me. The only reason I knew he was still listening was the occasional tightening of his hand on my shoulder.

  “So you ran, ending up in London,” I said. “Where did you go after New Orleans? The texts lose track of you.”

  “I think the proper question is, where haven’t I been,” Genevieve said. “I have lived many places. I have been many people. I have loved many times. I have lost many times. And yet, I remain.”

  “Is that really living, though?”

  “Is what living?”

  “Going through life without family?”

  “You have to make certain adjustments when you choose to live as I have,” Genevieve said. “For a long time I convinced myself that family wasn’t important.”

  “Did something change your mind?”

  “Time,” Genevieve said. “Living forever has its benefits. It also has certain drawbacks.”

  “Like?”

  “Like losing your anchor, your focus,” she said. “When you find yourself drifting with no purpose other than extending your own life things start to shift into perspective.”

  “And what things shifted for you?”

  “The things you might expect,” Genevieve admitted. “I found that I wanted more. I wanted a family. I wanted to be with my blood, however far removed.”

  She wasn’t making a lot of sense. “Exactly how did you extend your life and not become a wraith?”

  Genevieve smiled. “I cast a spell,” she said. “I agreed to provide them with … nourishment. As part of the spell, though, part of the life essence they were absorbing was passed on to me.”

  Huh. “Then why aren’t you a wraith?”

  “Because I’m not the one procuring the souls,” she replied.

  “I still don’t get how that works,” I admitted.

  “It’s a long process, a hard spell,” Genevieve said. “Each time I cast the spell, it gets harder in some respects. It has been worth it, though. I’ve seen more marvels than a woman of my time could imagine.

  “Of course, while my wraiths are stronger than normal wraiths, they also burn out quicker because they’re not getting the same amount of nourishment they normally would,” she continued.

  “I bet you didn’t tell them that when you partnered with them,” I grumbled.

  “No,” Genevieve chuckled. “No, that wouldn’t go over well.”

  We lapsed into silence for a second.

  “How did you lose the grimoire?” I asked finally.

  Griffin stirred next to me, clearly approving of my question.

  “That isn’t the exciting story you likely think it is,” she replied. “I moved to Detroit to find some of my descendants. Unfortunately, the woman who lived next door realized what I was; I’m still not sure how. I thought I had the situation taken care of, but I was wrong.

  “I didn’t realize until it was too late,” she continued. “There were fifty people on my front lawn, torches in hand – some things never go out of style – and I didn’t have a lot of time to think. I thought I could come back for the grimoire, but it didn’t happen. I got distracted. The computer age has been a godsend, though. Finding it in Brian Harper’s clutches was a stroke of luck.”

  “If you’ve lived this long, why did you need it?”

  “Because it’s mine.”

  That sounds reasonable – if you’re crazy.

  “So, you tracked your family lineage to the Detroit area and settled here before being forced out,” I said. “Then what?”

  “Then I wandered for a while, never taking my eye off my family but not getting close enough to actually contact them until a certain opportunity arose,” she said, clearly relishing her story.

  I was almost afraid to ask. “What opportunity?”

  Genevieve clapped her hands together excitedly. “I was hoping you would ask that.” She moved toward us, reaching into the pocket of her dress and pulling a small trinket out as she approached. “Open your hand.”

  I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but I followed her order. She dropped the trinket into my palm and then moved a few paces away, waiting for my reaction.

  I exchanged a wary glance with Griffin and then focused on the piece of jewelry in my hand. It was a ring – a wedding ring, to be exact. There were no discernible markings and, while it was gold, it didn’t look particularly valuable. My eyes caught sight of some markings on the inside of the band, so I peered closer.

  My love, my heart, forever. Cormack.

  My heart clenched in my chest. “This is my mother’s wedding ring,” I rasped, confusion washing over me.

  Griffin’s face was unreadable, but his body stiffened at my words.

  “How did you get this?” I pressed.

  Genevieve smiled even wider. Seriously, she’s lived for more than 300 years and she can’t get some porcelain veneers or something? Heck, dentures would be better. “Think about it.”

  My mind was blank. “I don’t … .”

  “Think about it,” she pressed.

  There was only one possibility. “We’re related to the Olivets, aren’t we?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  Unfortunately, paying attention to the family tree had never been a high priority during my formative years. Still, the proximity of the vaults was a big hint. “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  “So, you claim you’re all about your family and yet you know nothing about your family?”

  “I know that my family is my father and brothers,” I replied. “I don’t know about my ancestors. I�
�ve never really cared.”

  “Well, your ancestors are the same as mine,” Genevieve said. “You are my family.”

  Great. I was descended from crazy. In hindsight, that shouldn’t have come as a surprise. “You still haven’t answered my question,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “How did you get this?”

  “From your mother, of course.”

  “But she had this with her … she had this with her when she died,” I said, a host of possibilities rushing through my mind. “The coroner identified her body, but the fire inspector said that the fire was too hot and the ring was lost.”

  “Aisling,” Griffin started, but I ignored him.

  “She died in the fire, right?”

  “She did not die in the fire,” Genevieve replied. “She was badly injured, very badly. I managed to get her out, though.”

  “How?”

  “She was the last adult female of my line,” she said. “I was watching her for a long time, watching all of you really. She took such joy in being a mother. She always had a ragtag group of you at her side.

  “I wasn’t sure at first – sure that I wanted to approach her,” she continued. “She didn’t seem special, and the probability of her being interested in what I had to offer was minor. It wasn’t until the fire that I made my decision.”

  My heart was hammering in my chest. “You took her from the fire?”

  “I did.”

  Hope sprang. “Is she alive?”

  Genevieve smiled. “If she was alive, why would I need you?”

  Hope died. “She’s dead? She’s dead?”

  “She’s gone,” Genevieve confirmed. “That’s why I came for you.”

  She was dead. She had lived longer than we thought, but she was still dead. It was like losing her all over again. I had so many questions. How long did she live? When did she die? Was she a captive? How did she die?

  Griffin filled the overwhelming silence for me. “Why Aisling? Why not one of her brothers?”

  “Men are such wastes,” Genevieve replied. “They have no potential, no strength. They’re considered the stronger sex, but they’re not. They’re weak. Their strength always fails. Always. That’s not the case with women. Women are really the stronger sex, even though we’re never treated as such.”

  Griffin glanced at me, trying to gauge my mental state. “I’m not disagreeing with you,” he said. “If you’re only interested in Aisling, why did you keep me alive?”