Grim Rising (Aisling Grimlock Book 7)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Do you think he knows?” Dad asked.

  “I think he must have done a search for like cases,” Griffin said. “If he hasn’t … well … he’s not half the cop I thought he was.”

  It was a sobering statement. “No matter what, he’s not a quarter of the cop you are.”

  Griffin squeezed my hand. “You can chill, suck up. I’m not angry with you, and I actually found watching the ‘I’m right’ dance delightful. As for the other stuff … I’m not sure what to do about it. We simply have to wait it out.”

  “Which means we’re all stuck in this house for the night,” Redmond said. “Does anyone else think that sounds like a psych experiment gone awry?”

  Everyone but Dad and Griffin raised their hands.

  “What do you suggest?” Dad asked, even though he looked as if the last thing he wanted to hear was an honest answer.

  “I think we should go to the bar,” Redmond said. “It’s right around the corner and we can walk.”

  “Yay!” I clapped my hands, excited.

  “You’ll have to walk yourself,” Griffin said. “I’m not carrying you.”

  “I’m strong. I’ll figure a way to do it.”

  Griffin shifted his eyes to Dad, something akin to resignation passing between them.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think they won’t shut up until they get their way,” Dad replied, patting his hands on his desk. “Okay, after dinner and Aisling’s ice cream bar, we’ll go to the bar.”

  “Yay!” I clapped a second time, something occurring to me. “Can we have a cake bar tomorrow?”

  Dad was apparently beaten down, because he didn’t hesitate to bob his head. “Sure.”

  “Ha!” I pointed at Braden. “You owe me a hundred bucks, and I’m going to do the dance again at the bar.”

  Griffin chuckled as Dad rolled his eyes to the heavens.

  “I think you’ve done the dance enough, baby,” Griffin said. “Perhaps it’s time to win with a little grace and dignity.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Griffin held his hands palms out and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you can discover something new, something you never knew existed inside yourself.”

  “Screw that. I’m dancing, and Braden is buying.”

  “Now that sounds like a plan,” Dad said.

  21

  TWENTY-ONE

  I ate so much I almost felt as if I was waddling as I walked along the sidewalk. It was cold, but because no one wanted to be the designated driver – I had a feeling Dad wanted to drink his woes away after being trapped in a house with us for the better part of the day – we walked the several-block distance.

  My feet hurt, although I was loath to admit it. I kept my expression blank as I walked, willing the pain out of my head. After a few minutes, Griffin slipped ahead of me and stopped, gesturing toward his back.

  “Get on.”

  I stared at him a moment, surprised. “You’re going to give me a piggyback ride?”

  “I can’t stand it when you’re in pain.”

  “I’m … fine.”

  “Get on,” Griffin repeated, sighing.

  I did as instructed, almost moaning in ecstasy once the pain dulled. Dad slid us a sidelong glance as he walked, shaking his head as Griffin matched his pace.

  “You know, I don’t want to hear one word from you ever again about how I spoil her,” Dad said. “I may spoil her. All right, I do spoil her. You’re just as bad, though.”

  “It’s easier to be hurt myself than watch her struggle.” Griffin’s breath rasped out with the accompanying cold weather vapor. “It’s not so bad.”

  “I think you’re whipped,” Braden said, increasing his stride so he was right behind us. “It’s a little sad. I won’t ever be that way with a woman. In fact, whatever woman I finally settle with – if there is one, because I like playing the field – will wait on me.”

  Dad snorted, amused. “Please. You would be bored with a woman who did your bidding in five minutes flat.”

  “No way.”

  “You’re the type of man who wants to be challenged, Braden, even though you don’t know it yet,” Dad said. “It’s fine that you want to play the field. You have plenty of time. When you want to settle down, however, it will be with someone who challenges your mind.”

  “Puh-leez,” Braden scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I want a quiet and demure woman. Aisling has taught me that the mouthy ones are way too much work. Look at poor Griffin, for crying out loud. He’s carrying her to the bar.”

  “He’s helping her to the bar so we can all have a drink and relax,” Dad corrected. “There’s a difference.”

  “Not in my book.”

  “You’ll notice the difference one day.”

  I rested my cheek against the back of Griffin’s head as I studied Braden. He irritated me no end at times, but I worried about him. He missed Mom the most. He might not realize it, but he was desperate for someone to love him.

  “Dad’s right,” I said after a beat. “You’re going to want a woman who doesn’t kowtow to your every whim.”

  “That means a woman like you,” Braden argued. “Why don’t you ask Griffin – who can barely breathe under your added weight – how that’s working out for him.”

  “Don’t drag me into this,” Griffin gritted out as we turned the final corner toward Woody’s Bar. “I’m happy with my woman.”

  “Even though she climbed out the window to avoid the cops?”

  “That doesn’t bother me.”

  “You’re a cop.”

  “And she’s the type of person who does her own thing,” Griffin said. “I happen to like that about her. She’s always entertaining, and I’m never bored.”

  Instead of making fun of Griffin, Braden looked intrigued. “Do you think you’d be bored with someone who waited on you? I always pictured my eventual wife serving me beer while wearing sexy lingerie.”

  Dad and Griffin laughed in unison. Something about the way they looked at one another piqued my curiosity.

  “Aisling is more the fuzzy sleep pants and T-shirt type, and she never brings me beer.”

  “I do so,” I argued.

  “When have you ever brought me a beer?”

  “Well … .” That was a good question. I didn’t have an answer. “I do things for you.”

  “You do, but that wasn’t the question,” Griffin said, sighing as we hit the front door of Woody’s Bar, the local pub owned by a family friend. “I asked when you ever got me a beer.”

  I racked my brain and came up empty. “Well, I’ll get you one tonight.”

  “I’d prefer you had your own beer and didn’t make a scene tonight,” Griffin said, glancing over his shoulder and fixing the non-descript black sedan pulling into the parking lot with an unreadable look. “We have company.”

  Dad followed his gaze, scowling. “Do you recognize them?”

  Griffin nodded. “Detective Green is in the passenger seat. I think that’s Rick Roberts driving, but I can’t be sure because of the way the light’s hitting the windshield.”

  “Do you think they’ll come in?” Dad asked.

  Griffin shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. We’re not doing anything illegal.”

  “Everyone needs to stick together,” Dad ordered, earning groans from my brothers. “I’m sure two of you want to hook up with whatever pretty faces you can find tonight. You’ll have to settle for collecting phone numbers. We’re all leaving together. I don’t want any crap if these guys try to pin another potential murder on Aisling.”

  “Fine.” Braden shot me a look. “You’re more work than you’re worth. You know that, right?”

  I watched him swagger away, a bit of guilt weighing me down.

  Griffin slid his arm over my shoulders and tugged me through the entryway. “You’re always worth it,” he whispered, kissing my cheek.

  I looked to Dad for reassurance, but Griffin had to say that. We were get
ting married, and his future sex life depended on my moods. Dad was a different story.

  “You’re worth it ninety percent of the time,” Dad clarified. “The other ten percent I want to lock you in the basement.”

  That seemed fair.

  The bar was busy for a Wednesday night, but several booths were open – including the large one at the center. Dad grinned as he headed toward the owner, Woody, and Griffin led me toward the booth. I opted to take an end seat, but only because it would be painful should I have to shift around my brothers during frequent bathroom breaks. Griffin seemed to understand, because he settled inside with little complaint.

  Jerry and Aidan joined the booth party, while Cillian, Redmond and Braden wandered toward the pool tables. They were clearly looking for a game.

  “I haven’t seen Maya around much this week,” I noted as Dad brought over several drinks. “Is something going on?”

  “She’s working double shifts because she and Cillian are hoping to go to one of those Upper Peninsula spas next week,” Dad supplied, shoving a whiskey and Coke in my direction. “If this isn’t settled before then, I’m not sure they’ll be able to go.”

  More guilt flooded my gut as I looked over my shoulder and found Cillian. He seemed happy, gregarious while making boasts with Braden and Redmond as they readied to play. I hated the idea of him having to change his plans because of me. “He should go no matter what. This is my issue, not his.”

  Dad took the open spot on the other side of the booth and shook his head. “This is our issue because we’re a family,” he corrected. “He won’t leave if you’re in danger. Maya is kind, easygoing. She’ll understand.”

  “She shouldn’t have to understand.”

  “Then maybe we should work to fix this before it becomes a factor,” Griffin suggested. Maya was his sister, so he didn’t want to dwell on what she and Cillian would do during their spa trip. He liked to pretend their relationship was platonic. I understood, because my brothers felt the same way about him – at least at first – and he’d always been uncomfortable in their presence. At some point that had faded, although I wasn’t sure when I first noticed he’d grown more comfortable.

  “We’ll start digging hard tomorrow,” Dad said. “There’s not much more we can do tonight. We need to learn more about those bodies.”

  “And that symbol,” I added, my eyes drifting to the bar and landing on a familiar brunette. “I’ll be right back.”

  I moved to get up, but Griffin grabbed my arm before I could. “Where are you going?”

  I gestured vaguely, pointing at nothing and everything at the same time. “I’ll be around.”

  “Angelina is at the bar,” Dad supplied. “I was hoping Aisling wouldn’t see her, but I can tell we won’t be that lucky.”

  I heaved out a sigh, frustrated. “I’m won’t bother her. Well, I won’t kill her.”

  “That’s exactly what you’re going to do,” Griffin argued. “Why?”

  “Because she didn’t answer my questions earlier.”

  “And she won’t answer them now,” Dad pointed out. “Maybe we should send Cillian over. She still has feelings for him. She might be more willing to talk if he asks the questions.”

  That seemed unfair to Cillian. “I think it should be me,” I countered. “I’m the one who went through her stuff today. I owe her … um … something.”

  “I notice you didn’t say that you owed her an apology,” Dad prodded.

  “That’s because I won’t apologize.” I made a hissing sound as I got to my feet. “I need to talk to her. Don’t worry. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  Griffin arched a dubious eyebrow. “Is that saying much?”

  “Not really.”

  I carried my glass to the bar, smiling brightly at Woody as I hopped onto the stool next to Angelina. She didn’t immediately look in my direction. In fact, she seemed infatuated with her drink. I exchanged a brief look with Woody – who was well aware of our history and probably ready to step between us should things go wrong – before tapping my fingers on the countertop to get Angelina’s attention. When she still didn’t look in my direction, I groaned and swiveled to face her.

  “Are you going to pretend I’m not here?”

  “What?” Angelina swayed a bit as she turned. It took her a moment to register who she was talking to, and when she did, she glared. “Why are you here? Am I being punished for something?”

  She was drunk. She also was tired, weariness invading her eyes as she rubbed her forehead. For some reason – and I would forever deny it if pressed – I felt bad for her.

  “You’re being punished for all manner of things, including being a skank,” I announced, sipping my drink. Woody looked as if he expected us to start pulling hair and hurling insults, but he wisely remained behind the bar. “Aren’t you going to call me names, too?”

  “Is that what you want?” Angelina was blasé. “Fine. You’re a whore. You’ve always been a whore and you’ll always be a whore.”

  I preened under the insult. “Thank you.”

  “You’re a whore who is getting married, though,” Angelina noted. “How did you manage that?”

  “He asked.”

  “Yeah, but … why? You’re a terrible person, and he’s hot. He also seems nice, and people like him. Why did he choose you?”

  “I happen to be a catch,” I replied, lifting the small green straw out of my drink so I could suck from the end and then chew on it. “How long have you been here?”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost seven.”

  “I’ve been here for two and a half hours.”

  “How long are you going to stay?”

  “Until I can’t feel anything.”

  Angelina’s answer caught me off guard. She was a morose wonder, all pout and no bite. No fun at all. I preferred when she growled and tried to stab me in the heart with her fake fingernails.

  “What’s up with you?” I asked after a moment’s hesitation. I wasn’t interested because I cared about Angelina, I reminded myself. I was interested because she was my mortal enemy and she was clearly calling zombies from beyond the grave to stalk and try to kill me.

  “What’s up with you?” Angelina challenged. “Why are you here? Where’s your fiancé?”

  I pointed toward the booth. “Over there, with Jerry, Aidan and Dad.”

  Angelina brightened. “Oh, good. I love Jerry the fairy.”

  I frowned. Even when she managed to make me feel bad for her I still hated her. It was good to find consistency in her poor attitude. It kept my world afloat. “I have to hand it to you, whenever I start to think you might not be a terrible person you always find a way to rebound and be horrible. Don’t call him that, by the way. I’ll beat you up no matter how drunk you are if you do.”

  “Whatever.” Angelina waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “I don’t care what you think.”

  “I don’t care what you think either,” I pointed out. “I think we’re even on that front.”

  “Yes, we’re all kinds of even … except you have a father who spoils you rotten, brothers who love you and a fiancé who thinks you walk on water. You even have Jerry the Fairy telling you that you’re great.”

  I extended a warning finger. “I will rip your hair out of your head and shove it down your throat until you choke.”

  “No, you won’t.” Angelina flicked her eyes to me, causing me to shift when I saw how shiny they were. She was near tears, which is something I enjoy when I’m the one causing the tears. This was something else. “Why are you over here? Your family is over there.”

  “They are, but … I need to know why you were in the voodoo shop.” Angelina was in no shape for one of our regular sparring matches, so I decided to take her from the front instead of tackling her from behind. “Some weird stuff has been going on, and I need answers.”

  “Is that why you were going through my purse this afternoon?”

  “I still mainta
in your purse fell and I accidentally saw things inside when I was putting them back. That was an accident.”

  “Oh, whatever!” Angelina made a face. “You’re so full of it.”

  She wasn’t wrong. “I need to know,” I repeated. “The stuff that’s happening … it’s really odd. I mean, like … terribly odd. It’s like science fiction odd. No, wait, more like horror movie odd.”

  “Well, you’ve had sex and you can’t be the virgin who survives at the end, so here’s hoping the masked killer slams a knife through your head if we’re living in a horror movie.” Angelina lifted her drink and took a healthy gulp. “Actually, living in a horror movie makes sense. I probably have you to blame for this, huh?”

  “For what?”

  “Everything.” Angelina swigged her drink. “What kind of weird stuff is going on? From what I can tell, your family is into all kinds of weird stuff. You had that monster in your house a couple of months ago … and then there was that weird mirror thing you killed. Are you fighting another monster?”

  I graced Angelina with an appraising look. “You’ve always been a monster in your own right.”

  “Ha, ha.” Angelina ran her finger over the lip of her glass. “You must be desperate if you think I’m involved.”

  “No, I’m suspicious because I saw you go into that voodoo shop the other day,” I countered. “That woman is odd, and the weird things started right after that. Did you buy a curse or something? You’re not trying to kill me off because you think I’m the one keeping you from Cillian, are you?”

  “I know Cillian will never care about me like he used to,” Angelina blurted out. “I know that I can’t have him … no matter how much I want him. A curse won’t change that.”

  Well, at least she was thinking clearly. “So what are you doing with Madame Dauphine? Is she helping you raise zombies to go after me?”

  Angelina knit her eyebrows, her face flushing with confusion. “What?”

  Hmm. She didn’t understand what I was saying. That was either a very good sign or an extremely bad one.

  “Let’s start this from the beginning,” I suggested, flashing a fake smile. “Why were you at the voodoo shop?”