Grim Tidings

by Amanda M. Lee

  “As a gift for her, of course,” Genevieve replied. “She would hardly trust me if I killed you. Although, to be fair, I have no idea what she sees in you.”

  “She’s never going to trust you,” Griffin countered, ignoring the jab. “You took her mother, kept her locked up, let her die away from her family. How does that equal trust?”

  “Lily would have died in that fire,” Genevieve countered. “I prolonged her life, gave her something she would never have had without me.”

  “What’s that? Loneliness? Sadness?”

  “You can never understand,” Genevieve waved off Griffin. “Your mind isn’t big enough to grasp what I’m offering here.”

  “And what are you offering?” I asked, my voice shaky.

  “Eternity, of course,” Genevieve said. “There are so many things I can teach you.”

  “How to kill people? How to lose my soul? How to watch my family die? Thanks, I’ll pass.”

  Genevieve pursed her unnaturally red lips. “I don’t think you understand.”

  “I understand,” I argued. “I understand what you are, and I’m not interested in becoming like you. I’m fine being me.”

  “Being you? And what are you? A failed secretary? A college dropout? A pawn for your brothers to move around the chessboard? I can give you so much more. I can give you everything.” She’d obviously been watching me for a long time.

  I shook my head, rage coursing through me. “Can you give me my mother back? Can you give me the option of choosing my own life? Can you undo all the evil you’ve perpetrated?”

  Genevieve didn’t look happy. “I can give you forever.”

  “I don’t want forever,” I spat. “I want my life to be what it is. I don’t want to live forever. I want to live what I was meant to live and then move on, like I’m supposed to move on.”

  “You’re so much like Angelica.” Genevieve meant it as an insult, but that’s not how I took it.

  “Good,” I said. “Because I’m never going to be like you. Angelica is the hero in this story, not you.”

  “That’s your final answer?”

  “That’s my only answer.”

  “So disappointing,” Genevieve mused.

  The room was silent now, my proclamation sucking the air out of the small enclosure. Griffin was tense, waiting. Had I just given Genevieve a reason to kill us both? She wasn’t armed, and the wraiths were still outside, but something told me she had ways to protect herself.

  The silence was interrupted by a loud bang on the other side of the door. I jumped. Griffin did, too. I could hear loud voices outside of the mausoleum.

  “Aidan,” I breathed.

  “I think he has backup,” Griffin agreed, craning his neck to hear more. The voices weren’t clear, but there was definitely more than one person yelling on the other side of the door.

  I glanced at Genevieve; she looked alarmed by the sudden disruption in our conversation. “Who is that?”

  Hope swelled again. “My family.”

  “I am your family.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  The mausoleum door flew open; only it wasn’t Aidan standing there. Cormack Grimlock is a terrifying man under normal circumstances. Threaten one of his children, though, and there is no measure for his rage.

  Dad’s eyes flitted over to me, checking to make sure I was okay, before focusing on Genevieve. “I think you’ll find that your first mistake was touching my daughter,” he growled, brandishing a sword and repeating the words I had heard Aidan say only a night before. This is why he has so many “heirlooms” in the house, I thought, fighting the smile that was taking over my face. Boys like their toys. “I think you’ll find your second mistake was underestimating exactly what I would do to get her back.”

  “You’re no threat to me,” Genevieve said, although she didn’t look convinced. “I am the end of time.”

  Four other figures – all familiar – tumbled into the mausoleum behind my father. Each carried a sword and breathed heavily. Dad didn’t move his eyes from Genevieve’s face, though. He was focused.

  “Then let’s end your time,” Dad said, his face grim. The sword flashed forward, slamming into Genevieve’s chest.

  For one breathless moment, I thought it was over. Unlike the wraiths, though, she didn’t crumble into dust. The only change in her demeanor was a crazy laugh. “I am immortal.”

  Dad frowned, pulling the sword back. Instead of the red blood you would expect, the liquid coating the blade was black.

  “Chop off her head,” Redmond suggested. “Let’s see her survive that.”

  Dad didn’t need to be told twice. He reared back, this time taking a wide arc. Genevieve’s eyes flashed in surprise, worry reflected there for a split second, before the sword hit its mark and separated her head from her shoulders.

  Genevieve’s head hit the ground with thump, her body tumbling beside it a second later. It wasn’t long before both started oozing and melting into the floor.

  Gross.

  Now it was over.

  Thirty-Nine

  Dad was sitting at his desk, flipping through the newspaper, when I finally mustered the courage to approach him.

  It had been three days since the unfortunate events in the mausoleum, and the good news was that my brothers and father had finally started to calm down. Let me tell you, seventy-two hours of recriminations and intelligence jabs are not fun.

  Since he hadn’t noticed me I knocked on the door to get his attention. Dad glanced up, dropping the paper and motioning for me to enter. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “I just thought you should have this.”

  I had told Genevieve’s story multiple times since my rescue, but for some reason I had left out the part about the ring each time. Now, though, I knew it was time. I placed the ring on his desk and took a step back.

  I expected yelling. I expected anger. I expected accusations. Quite frankly, I expected him to try to ground me. What I got was tears.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Genevieve had it,” I said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I searched his face, but there was no anger there. “I don’t know.”

  Dad fingered the ring, reading the words inside the band, and then clasped it in his hand. “It’s hard to fathom,” he said after a moment. “Your mother was alive, and I didn’t know it.”

  “How could you?” I asked, slipping into one of the chairs across from his desk.

  “When two souls collide and latch on to each other, you should know.”

  That seemed like a heavy burden. “If you should have known, then I should have known, too. She was my mother.”

  Dad smiled, the expression surprising me. “You may have been her daughter, but the connection we shared was different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Not greater. Not better. Just different. You’ll understand. Someday soon, if I read Detective Taylor’s intentions correctly.”

  I blushed. “I haven’t spoken to him since it happened. I think we freaked him out. He’s done. I think you’re reading the situation wrong.”

  Dad sighed. “That man sat outside your condominium to make sure you were safe,” he said. “He kept our secret. He sat through two meals with your brothers – even though they were nothing but obnoxious to him. This whole situation may have confused the lad, but it hasn’t deterred him.”

  “How can you be sure?” I tried to keep the hope from overtaking me.

  “Because you’re not that easy to forget,” he replied.

  “How do you know that?” I asked curiously.

  “Because you are your mother’s daughter.”

  I smiled, despite myself. “Not just hers, Dad.”

  LATER THAT night I was enjoying having the condo to myself – the fourth season of The Walking Dead in the Blu-Ray player -- when there was a knock at the door. I hit the pause button, biting my lower lip as I considered who cou
ld be on the other side.

  No wraiths had been sighted since Genevieve’s demise – and my brothers had managed to sweep out the goo so none of the Olivets would notice the mess – but I was still momentarily scared.

  I tamped down the fear and moved toward the door, peering through the peephole before unlocking it. The figure standing on the other side was a welcome – if terrifying – one.

  I took a deep breath, glanced down at my furry Hello Kitty pajama bottoms, and ran a hand through my hair. What the hell? I opened the door and came face to face with Griffin.

  “Hey,” I greeted him, hating how timid I sounded.

  “Hey.” He seemed just as nervous.

  We both stood there awkwardly for a minute.

  “Um, do you want to come in?”

  “Sure.”

  I opened the door wider, letting Griffin in – my body tensing as we brushed together – and then closed the door behind him. When I finally gathered my courage and looked up, he wasn’t there.

  I wandered into the living room. He was standing in front of the television, his eyes trained on the screen. “This is a great show.”

  “It’s one of my favorites,” I agreed.

  “Who is your favorite character?”

  “Daryl.”

  “I like Rick.”

  I laughed. “Of course you do; he’s a cop.”

  Griffin lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Right, because only a cop could like another cop.”

  I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. “So, um, how are you?”

  “How are you?”

  “I asked first.”

  Griffin smirked. “I’m okay.”

  “Good.”

  “How are you?” He repeated.

  “I’m better.”

  “Better than what?”

  “Better than I was,” I admitted. I considered sitting on the couch, but that seemed the wrong move. Instead, I stood there like an idiot, my hands clenched at my sides.

  “You’re okay, right?” Griffin seemed stuck on repeat.

  “I’m better than okay,” I said, and it was the truth.

  Griffin looked confused.

  “I gave my dad the ring tonight,” I said. “I hadn’t told him about it for some reason. I don’t know why.”

  “Do you know why now?” Griffin looked curious.

  “Fear? Is that a lame answer?”

  “No,” Griffin shook his head. “I think that’s understandable. How did he take it?”

  “I thought he would be angry.”

  Griffin waited.

  “He cried.”

  Griffin swished his lips to the side. “That sounds about right.”

  “How?”

  “He’s got a piece of her back, another piece anyway.”

  I realized what he was saying. “Another piece besides me, you mean.”

  “Yes.”

  “I never understood before,” I said, my emotions running deep.

  “Understood what?”

  “I always thought he hated having a daughter,” I said. “I thought he would have been happier if I was a boy.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I still think it would have been easier if I was a boy,” I replied, the realization not filling me with anger for a change. “I just don’t think he wishes I was a boy.”

  “That’s progress, right?”

  “It is,” I agreed.

  “If it’s any conciliation, I’m pretty happy you’re not a boy.”

  My heart started thumping harder. “And why is that?”

  “Because, if you were a boy, I would feel pretty stupid doing this.” Griffin was across the room, his mouth on mine, before I had a chance to think about what was going to happen. The kiss was deep, full of yearning and more combustible heat than I ever thought possible. I sank into it, despite the misgivings tickling the back of my mind. Exactly how was this going to work?

  Griffin’s hands were at my waist, tugging at the hem of my shirt. I pulled back, despite the hormones coursing through my body. “Are you going to run away tomorrow morning?”

  Griffin’s lips pressed back against mine, not bothering to answer. I couldn’t go through that again, though, so I pulled back.

  “I’m serious.”

  Griffin smiled, clearly enjoying my consternation. “Aisling?”

  “Yeah?” I was having trouble catching my breath.

  “Shut up.”

  This time I didn’t fight Griffin’s intentions – or his mouth. I just let myself fall. Again.

  Author’s Note

  I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my novels. I have a particular brand of humor that isn’t for everyone – and I know that.

  If you liked the book, please take a few minutes and leave a review. An independent author does it all on their own, and the reviews are helpful. I understand that my characters aren’t for everyone, though. There’s a lot of snark and sarcasm in my world – and I know some people don’t like that..

  Special thanks go out to Heidi Bitsoli and Phil VanHulle for correcting the (numerous) errors that creep into a work of fiction.

  If you’re interested in my future works, follow me on Facebook, Twitter or join my mailing list. I do not believe in spam. I only announce new releases or free promotions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  [Fluffer Nutter]

  Books by Amanda M. Lee

  Avery Shaw Mysteries

  Who, What, Where, When, Die

  If it Bleeds, it Leads

  Buried Leads

  Shot off the Presses

  The Preditorial Page

  Misquoted & Demoted (Spring 2015)

  Covenant College Mysteries

  Awakening (Book One)

  Whispering (Book Two)

  Conjuring (Book Three)

  Covenant College (Book Four) Winter 2014

  Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mysteries

  Any Witch Way You Can

  Every Witch Way But Wicked

  Witching You Were Here

  Witching on a Star

  Something to Witch About (October 2014)

  Aisling Grimlock

  Grim Tidings (Book One) August 2014