Grim & Bear It: A Grimlock Family Short

by Amanda M. Lee

  What I saw inside the warehouse disavowed me of all of that. Two minutes inside proved to me that what my mother always said was true: I was overprotected and didn’t necessarily understand how the real world worked. The real world was apparently a dark and dank place, and I was completely baffled as to how I should proceed.

  “Hello, handsome.” A woman in a tube top, her shoulders bare and her breasts prominently displayed, sidled up to me as I tried to cut through the crowd. All I could think about was finding Peter Langstrom and escaping back to my vanilla neighborhood.

  “Um … hello.” My cheeks burned as she stared me down. There was something predatory about the way she looked at me. She seemed keen to give me a long once-over.

  “You’re new here, huh?” She ran her hand over my chest and grinned, something that set my teeth on edge. “You’re … shiny.”

  Uh-oh. I didn’t like the sound of that. I thought I was the only one who noticed I was woefully out of place in this environment. “Um … yeah. I mean … no.” I straightened my shoulders and took control of the situation. “I hang around this place all the time. I’m a regular.”

  The woman arched a dubious eyebrow as she glanced down at my expensive Air Jordans. “Right.” Her lips quirked as she drew her red-rimmed eyes to mine. She was good at invading personal space – something I was never comfortable with – and she seemed amused by my discomfort. “So … what’s your poison?”

  That obviously wasn’t a literal question, but in this environment I couldn’t completely rule it out. “I’m sorry?”

  Her lips tipped up at the corners. “What do you want to drink?”

  “Oh, I’m good. I’m not thirsty.”

  She snorted. “You don’t come to this place if you’re not thirsty for something.” Her eyes started roaming again. “What’s your name?”

  “What’s your name?” I blurted out to buy time.

  “Serena.”

  Oddly enough, that sounded like a nice name. She was not, however, a nice woman. I could tell by the way she scanned my clothing … and the way her gaze lingered on my watch. “It’s nice to meet you, Serena. This is a lovely party you’ve got going on here.”

  “Yeah, I often get compliments on the parties I attend.” She licked her lips. “How old are you?”

  For some reason, the question set my teeth on edge. “I’m eighteen.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Listen, you’re not going to be in trouble for coming in here if you’re not eighteen,” Serena supplied. “There are no rules about who can and cannot attend. It’s just … you look awfully young.”

  “Well, I’m not.” I smoothed my shirt. “I happen to be an adult … and like a mature one and everything.”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t mature.” Amusement washed over Serena’s face at the same moment the pulsing lights in the main room turned from red to green. That’s when I noticed the way her purple liner gunked in the corners of her eyes, giving her a ghoulish quality that caused me to want to run screaming from the building. She looked like a corpse. No, she looked worse than a corpse. All the dead bodies I’d seen since becoming a full-time reaper had more color than she did. “You’re very obviously mature.”

  “I am,” I agreed, shaking my head to dislodge the horrible thoughts threatening to knock me off track. “I’m only here for a quick visit tonight. I have business.”

  “Oh, really?” Serena perked up. “What kind of business? Are you moving something?”

  “Moving something?” The question confused me. “I don’t see any furniture. Why would you think I was a mover?”

  Serena pressed the tip of her tongue to her front teeth and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. “I asked what you were moving. I meant … um … pharmaceuticals.”

  “Oh.” Realization dawned. “Oh!” Never before had I thought of myself as a goody-goody, but I was clearly out of my element here. “That’s not my type of business.”

  “Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out myself.” Serena chuckled to herself. “What kind of business are you here for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “What business is it of yours?”

  “I’m trying to help.”

  It didn’t seem that way to me. “Why would you want to help me?”

  “Maybe I think you’re attractive.”

  Despite myself, I preened. “Thank you. You’re lovely, too.” That was a total lie, but she didn’t need to know that. “But I’m not sure you can help me.”

  “Why don’t you try me on for size?”

  She seemed eager to insert herself into my business, which set off alarm bells in my head. Still, I didn’t have many options. “I’m looking for Peter Langstrom. I don’t suppose you could point me in his direction?”

  “Peter Langstrom?”

  I nodded and thought back to the photograph that was sent through to my phone right as I left the house. “He’s got brown hair and eyes. He’s relatively short, about five-foot-four, I believe, and he has cold sores all over his lips.”

  “Cold sores, huh?” Serena’s expression was hard to read. “You’re not looking to kiss him, are you?”

  “Of course not.” Was she kidding? “I simply need to find him.”

  “Why?” She seemed more together now than when we’d first met, which only made my suspicions grow.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I took a decisive step away from her. “I’m simply trying to find him. We have a matter to discuss. Once that’s finished, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Because you don’t belong here.” Serena looked thoughtful. “I think you should go right now and forget whatever business you have with Peter Langstrom. It’ll only get you into trouble.”

  When I first crossed paths with her I was certain Serena was lit. Like … ninety candles on a birthday cake lit. Now I wasn’t so sure, and the realization that she seemed perfectly straight a few minutes after appearing totally trashed threw me for a loop. “What’s your deal?” I decided to go on the offensive. “Why are you so interested in what I’m doing here?”

  Serena stared at me for a long beat and then her eyes glazed again and she shrugged. “I was trying to help.” She slurred a bit toward the end of the sentence. “I won’t make that mistake again. Do whatever you want. This is a party, after all. You should have some fun.”

  “Yeah, well, thanks.” I made a face as I moved in the opposite direction. Like I needed her permission to have a good time. I jolted when a guy ran past me with what looked to be a needle in his hand and a bright smile on his face. “You probably shouldn’t run with that,” I called out, grimacing when a young girl – she couldn’t have been more than sixteen – rolled her eyes from the corner where she was sucking on a balloon. Ugh. I need to find Peter Langstrom and get out of here. This place is … well, it’s just not sanitary.

  I DIDN’T SPEND much time on the main floor. Between the dance room at one end and what I assumed was supposed to be a sex room at the other – for once I couldn’t be enticed by rampant nudity to stick around and take a closer look – I figured it was a better bet to head upstairs.

  The warehouse was full of people. They seemed to separate into cliques. The building was devoid of equipment, so whatever work used to go on inside before the business folded wasn’t obvious.

  The second floor was jammed at one end with what looked to be homeless people, and empty at the other side thanks to a huge hole in the floor, which was cordoned off with nothing but two strings of crepe paper, so I climbed to the third floor. The folks hanging out there looked a bit more friendly – or less likely to rip my lungs out through my throat – so I breathed a sigh of relief and scanned the room.

  I didn’t immediately recognize anyone, which wasn’t out of the ordinary because this wasn’t my crowd, but my eyes ultimately snagged with those of a young woman in the corner. She wore a skimpy tank top and a metal overlay that looked sort of like chainmail. Her hair was long and frosted a purpl
e color at the tips, and the look she shot me was full of incredulity.

  Uh-oh. I sensed something off here. Even though I was convinced no one I knew hung out at places like this, there was something familiar about the girl.

  She pushed all hope that I was making up that familiarity out of my head when she detached from the wall and headed in my direction.

  “Oh, well, crap.” I rolled my neck as I tried to appear calm and collected.

  Instead of playing it coy, the girl stopped directly in front of me. “You’re one of those Grimlock people.”

  I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I lied.

  “No, you are.” The girl was persistent as she stared at my face. “I think I went to high school with you.”

  The simple statement was enough to throw off my measured cool. “You went to high school with me?” That didn’t sound likely. The kids at my school wouldn’t be caught dead at a warehouse party. Their idea of a wild night out usually involved a bonfire, a little beer, and occasionally a joint if they were feeling really adventurous. This place was something else entirely. “I don’t think so.”

  “No, I definitely went to high school with you.” The girl was persistent as she pressed her hand to the center of my chest, as if she were trying to read my emotions or something. “You’re Redmond Grimlock. You have a bunch of other brothers and a sister who everyone thinks is going to grow up to be the devil.”

  Oh, well, it sounded as though she did know me. I gave her another hard look, my memory kicking into gear. “Courtney Dempsey?”

  The girl bobbed her head. “Yeah. That’s me. I knew I recognized you.” She slapped me hard enough on the shoulder that I jolted. “How the heck are you? I never expected you to be the one to go rogue and embrace the dark side of the moon, man.”

  I knew she probably meant the statement as a compliment, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it all the same. “Oh, well … .”

  “Is this your first time here?” Courtney wasn’t great at making eye contact, but she seemed mostly put together. I knew her – she went to my school and was considered a “good girl” until she fell off the rails about six months before graduation – so I figured I could take advantage of the situation.

  “I don’t spend much time in this part of town,” I admitted, hoping I didn’t come off as if I was judging her or the lifestyle she appeared to be living. “I had to come here tonight because I need to find someone.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who?”

  “His name is Peter Langstrom.”

  Courtney’s eyebrows flew up her forehead. “Pete? Why would you possibly want to hang out with him?”

  Hope moved through me. “You know him?”

  “Everyone knows Pete. He’s a bad dude.”

  That might explain why he was dying. Of course, I couldn’t mention that to Courtney. Even though most people claim they would be excited to take a walk on the wild side of paranormal life, that very rarely turned out to be true. “I don’t want to spend much time with him,” I hedged. “In fact … .” I trailed off, my eyes landing on a figure that shouldn’t have been on the third floor. “Could you hold on for just a second?” I held up a finger to still Courtney. She looked more confused than offended, but she nodded.

  “Sure. I’ll be over there hanging out. Come find me later and we’ll share some kibbles and bits.”

  I had no idea what that meant, but I merely nodded before stomping across the floor and grabbing my brother by the arm, ignoring the way he protested as I whipped him around to face me. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

  Braden’s eyes went wide when he realized he was caught. “Oh, hey, man.” He sucked in three breaths to calm himself and then adopted a wide smile. “Isn’t this place neat?”

  Neat? That was the last word I’d use to describe any of this. “No. This place is not neat. It’s filthy. It’s dirty. I actually saw someone running with a giant needle downstairs.”

  Braden made a face. “Oh, well, I guess that’s not necessarily neat.”

  “No,” I agreed. “What the heck are you doing here? I told you to wait in the van.”

  “Yeah, well, the van is too crowded.” Braden offered a saucy wink to a girl as she walked past him. She barely glanced in his direction, but that didn’t stop Braden from grinning. “This place is great!”

  I dug my fingers into his arm and gave him a hard tug toward the stairwell. “This place is a cesspool.”

  “I think you’re looking at it wrong,” Braden argued. He didn’t put up a fight when I directed him toward the stairwell. “This place isn’t bad. It’s just different. Remember, Mom always says we should be open to trying new things.”

  “She says that when she takes us to a restaurant and they have something other than corn on the menu as the house vegetable,” I fired back, doing my best not to kick Braden down the stairs as I forced him to descend. “I don’t think she had this place in mind.”

  Braden wasn’t about to be deterred. “I don’t know. Mom says all new experiences are good experiences.”

  “That’s because she hasn’t been to a rave.” I breezed past the second floor, not stopping until we were in the main lobby. “Now, go back to the van and wait for me. I shouldn’t be long. I’ve run into a few people who know this Peter Langstrom and I think I’m getting close.”

  That was a gross exaggeration. I was no closer to finding Peter Langstrom than I was when we stopped here. Still, Braden didn’t need to know that. He was difficult under normal circumstances. I couldn’t afford to let his bad attitude get a foothold in a situation like this.

  “I don’t want to leave,” Braden argued. “This place is great. Why can’t I look around while you’re handling the soul?”

  I cringed as I looked around to see if anyone had heard Braden use the S-word. “Why don’t you yell it or something to really give people a reason to question why we’re here,” I hissed, digging my fingernails into his arm as deeply as I could. “Are you stupid or something?”

  Braden wasn’t the type to back down under normal circumstances and it was obvious he had no intention of breaking his rotten streak today. “Chill out!” He tried to pull away from me but couldn’t quite manage it. “Everyone here is too lit to know what I said. There’s no reason to panic.”

  “Do I look like I’m panicking?”

  Braden tilted his head to the side and shrugged. “Kind of.”

  That very clearly wasn’t a compliment, so I decided to ignore it. “You need to go back to the van right now,” I ordered, adopting my best “I’m in charge and you have to do what I say” expression. I’d seen my father use it a time or two – with great results – so I tried to emulate him. “Do I have to walk you back there?”

  “I’m perfectly capable of walking myself.”

  In other words, he was going to wait for me to return to my Peter Langstrom search and then sneak back inside. I knew my brother well enough to recognize that.

  “You know what?” I jerked him toward the door, my temper on full display. “I’ll walk you back to the van. I need to have a little chat with Cillian anyway. I don’t understand why he let you leave.”

  “Cillian’s not my boss.”

  “When I say Cillian is your boss, he’s your boss.” I was in no mood for debate as I dragged Braden across the parking lot and threw open the sliding door of the van to toss my annoying brother inside.

  Cillian didn’t look surprised to see me and merely held his hands palms out and shrugged at my unasked question. “You try making him do something he doesn’t want to do.”

  “I put you in charge,” I barked. “You’re supposed to watch them.”

  “I am watching them.”

  “Then how did Braden make it inside?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.” Cillian wrinkled his nose and smiled. “By the way, the fact that you came out here saves me some time. I was trying to figure out what I should do to track you down. It’
s lucky that you came out here when you did.”

  “Lucky?” I furrowed my brow. “How is this lucky?”

  “Well, Aisling took off inside and I knew you’d want to know that.” Cillian somehow managed to remain calm despite the color I could feel rushing to my cheeks. “I figure we should come up with a plan to find her.”

  “She what?” I thought my head was going to fall off my shoulders it pounded so badly.

  “She took off inside,” Aidan offered helpfully. “She wanted to see you … and see if Beverly Hills, 90210 got it right when it comes to raves.”

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” I felt sick to my stomach as I rubbed my head. “I’ll kill her.”

  “Get in line,” Braden said. “I always want to kill her. Despite my best efforts, she always manages to get away. She’s a slippery little sucker.”

  I wanted to kill him, too. “Could this night get any worse?”

  5

  Five

  Aisling was gone.

  No matter how long I searched for her in the back of the van – and I actually did that, looking behind the seat in case she was crouching there – inherently I knew she was missing and in a lot of trouble. My heart rate sped up, my stomach twisted and I felt as if I might lose my head and pass out if I wasn’t careful.

  None of that would help Aisling, but it might make me feel better.

  “I tried to stop her,” Jerry offered, perhaps sensing my imminent freakout. “I told her it was a bad idea, but she was determined to go inside. I think it’s your fault.”

  I found my voice. “My fault?” Quite frankly, Jerry was lucky I didn’t crawl into the back and throttle him. I had a lot of aggression struggling to come out to play and he made an enticing target. I knew that wasn’t fair to him – and my father would completely blow up if he found out I’d ever mistreated Jerry – so keeping my cool seemed a wise course of action.

  Jerry bobbed his head. “You know how she is. She’s a wanderer.”

  “How is that my fault?”