The Grim & The Dead

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I’ll talk to her,” I reassured him. “She’s probably only here for a few minutes, to finish up some paperwork, and then she’ll be on her way.”

  “I don’t believe that to be true.”

  I stilled. “Why?”

  “Because she brought a suitcase ... and a guest. He’s of the male variety.”

  Now I was doubly confused. “She brought Griffin and a suitcase?”

  “I believe she’s planning on staying for a few days.”

  That sounded unlikely. “But ... she has her own place. Technically she has two places. She and Griffin are moving into their own townhouse. Why would she possibly want to move in here?”

  “You’ll have to ask her that.”

  Tolliver’s anger was so pronounced I wisely took a step away from him to increase the distance between us. “I’ll do that.” I smiled at him because I didn’t know what else to do. “I’ll fix this. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to your task.”

  TOLLIVER MADE ME nervous — he had ever since my father hired him, quite frankly — so I was glad to leave him in the foyer and search for Aisling. The first place I checked was my father’s office. It seemed to be the most likely place for her — she had paperwork to fill out, after all — and I wasn’t disappointed when I strolled inside and found her sitting behind my father’s oversized mahogany desk.

  Her black hair, the white streaks looking freshly dyed, was wild and flowing around her shoulders. She was dressed in what I was almost certain was one of my father’s smoking jackets. He didn’t smoke, other than the occasional cigar, but he was a man who liked certain things ... and his smoking jacket was one of them.

  From her perch in his chair, Aisling wore one of his prized jackets while leaning back with her feet on his desk. She puffed on a cigar (although she looked a bit green around the gills) and made a big show of doing her best Dad impression when she saw me enter.

  “Hello, Braden. Do you have a report for me?”

  I openly gaped. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m running our business,” Aisling replied, making a face as she puffed. She tried to be strong, but she couldn’t hold off the wracking cough. “These things taste like ass, by the way. I mean ... why does Dad make such a big deal out of them?”

  “Wait ... is that one of Dad’s Cubans?” I was flabbergasted. “He’ll kill you when he figures out what you’ve done.”

  “He had, like, fifty of them in a little box,” Aisling argued. “He won’t even notice it’s gone.”

  “He’ll notice. He’s the most anal-retentive man in the world. He always notices.”

  “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. It will be fine.”

  “It won’t be fine when I tell him that you’ve been going through his stuff,” I challenged, my temper getting the better of me. “What are you even doing here? That’s his nonsmoking smoking jacket. He’ll freak when he realizes you’ve been stinking it up.”

  Aisling puffed again, haughty. “It’s a smoking jacket. It’s meant to be smoked in.”

  “I’m going to tattle on you so hard.”

  “What else is new?” Aisling rested the stogie in the ashtray she’d managed to dig up from somewhere and shuffled a stack of papers on the center of the desk. “I need your report for today and then we need to send the souls over to Cyrus at the gate.”

  I worked my jaw. “No, I need your report.”

  “I finished first so I did the paperwork. I just need to add your reports to the ones I’ve already completed.”

  “You’re not in charge.”

  “I’m just as much in charge as you.”

  “How do you figure?”

  Aisling gestured toward the desk. “I think this about covers it.”

  “Oh, whatever.” My plans for a quiet night at home were rapidly evaporating. “I’m in charge. I’ve been a reaper longer than you, which means I get to fill out the reports.”

  “I’ve already done it. There’s no reason to do it twice.”

  “Well ... I’ll make sure it’s done right.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Aisling waved off my concerns as if she were swatting a bug. “If you want to be a douche, be a douche. I won’t stop you.”

  I opened my mouth to explain exactly who was being the douche but I didn’t get a chance to work up to a righteous diatribe because Griffin picked that moment to breeze into the room. He had two martini glasses in his hands and, to my utter surprise, was sporting another smoking jacket from my father’s collection.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I growled, frustrated.

  “Hello, Braden.” Griffin looked to be in a good mood, relaxed. He skirted around me and carried a martini to Aisling, resting it on the desk before he kissed the top of her head and fixed me with an amused look. “I see you two are getting along. There’s not going to be bloodshed, is there? I would hate to have to arrest someone.”

  “You can’t arrest me,” I shot back. “This isn’t your jurisdiction.”

  “If I see a crime occurring, it doesn’t matter where I am,” Griffin supplied. “I can arrest you ... and if you put your hands on your sister I won’t hesitate.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to put my hands on her?”

  “Because you’ve got a certain look that I’ve seen before. She makes you crazy. I get that because she makes me crazy, too, but I won’t let you hurt her.”

  Oddly enough, he was the one I wanted to hurt. He, along with my father, was one of Aisling’s greatest enablers, and I blamed them both for her attitude. “I have no intention of hurting her,” I said finally, managing to rein in my temper, although just barely. “I just want her out of here. I believe she’s your responsibility after-hours, so why don’t you take her and do ... whatever it is you do when you’re alone.”

  “We’re staying here.”

  Part of me was expecting his response. That didn’t stop me from gripping my hands into fists at my sides. “Excuse me?”

  “We’re staying here,” Griffin repeated, amusement flitting across his features. “Aisling already cleared it with your father. We’re having the new townhouse painted, so we don’t want to stay there with all the paint fumes.”

  That was infuriating. “What about the townhouse she shares with Jerry?”

  “He’s having a stag week with Aidan gone,” Aisling replied. “He wants only masculine energy in the house. He’s even having an Essential Oils party.”

  So much of that sentence didn’t make sense I had no idea where to start. “What are Essential Oils?”

  “They’re magical oils that can cure anything,” Aisling replied without hesitation. “That’s according to Jerry. In my book, they’re merely oils that make the townhouse smell better. He’s ordering a few things for me as a housewarming gift.”

  “I don’t understand why you can’t stay at the townhouse with him. An Essential Oils party doesn’t sound like something that requires testosterone.”

  “Yeah, well, you know Jerry. Once he has something in his head you can’t talk him out of it. Griffin was allowed to stay, but I had to leave.”

  “And because I don’t want to be away from Aisling, we decided to stay here,” Griffin added. “You had this big house to yourself, so we didn’t want you to be lonely. Moving in here for a few days made the most sense.”

  “It’s even closer to Griffin’s work,” Aisling explained, her smile mischievous. “It’s the best of all worlds.”

  For them, maybe. My world was quickly crumbling. “I don’t want you here.”

  “Tough.” Aisling puffed again. “I called Dad, told him about my predicament, and he thought it was a good idea for us to stay here. In fact, he said he was going to suggest it himself because he was worried about you being lonely.”

  I didn’t believe that for a second. “I’m going to call him to confirm.”

  “Go nuts.” Aisling grabbed her martini and stood. “I know you’re going to wr
ite up the paperwork a second time, but that’s a total waste. If you’re looking for us, we’ll be up in the game room. I’m going to put in a chick flick.”

  I wanted to throttle her. “I’m watching the game up there when I’m done.”

  “You know the rules of the house. First come, first right of choice.”

  We’d just see about that.

  THE FIRST THING I did when Aisling and Griffin vacated the office was call my father. He was in a loud room, so loud he could barely understand what I was saying, and I found myself yelling to be heard.

  “She was wearing your smoking jacket!”

  “My smoking jacket?” Dad’s voice came through clearer, suggesting he’d moved to another casino location so he could hear me. “Why was she wearing it?”

  “Because she stole a Cuban and smoked it.”

  “She smoked a Cuban?” Instead of being infuriated he sounded amused.

  “Yes, and she’s pretending she’s in charge of the manor,” I snapped. “She thinks she’s in charge of the operation this week. We both know that’s not true, right? I’m in charge. I’ve been a reaper longer than her.”

  “Oh, must we really have this argument?” Dad’s tone turned petulant. “Braden, you’re both adults. Can’t you find a way to get along?”

  It was almost as if he didn’t know us at all. “I’m not the one being difficult.”

  “Right. It’s all Aisling.”

  “It is!”

  “Well, you’ll have to do what I told you to do when you were children.”

  “Get the masking tape and put a line down the room and make it so we can’t cross to each other’s side? A room is one thing, Dad. Using masking tape on the entire house will create quite a mess.”

  “Not that. That was your mother’s idea, by the way, not mine. She watched a little too much Brady Bunch when she was younger.”

  “One episode is too much ... though Marcia was hot.”

  “Yes, well, that’s neither here nor there ... but she was totally … never mind about that. As for your situation, I don’t want to put either of you in charge because I’ll pay for the decision whichever way it goes. I’m not in the mood to be punished.”

  “So you’re punishing me?”

  “It’s a big house.” He was matter-of-fact. “You don’t even have to see her if you don’t want.”

  “She was sitting behind your desk, smoking a Cuban and wearing one of your smoking jackets.”

  “If that’s the worst she does while I’m gone, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

  “She did the paperwork!”

  “Oh, you poor thing.” Dad made a clucking sound with his tongue that grated. “Your sister did the paperwork so you wouldn’t have to do it. Nobody has suffered like you.”

  I chewed my bottom lip and struggled not to go full “middle school” as I tugged on my limited patience. “Why do you hate me?”

  “I love you, Braden. I love your sister, too. She needed a place to stay. I’m not turning her away from the family home. You know that’s not how I do things.”

  “But ... .” I had only one thing left to throw at him. “Griffin was wearing one of your smoking jackets, too. He thinks this is funny.”

  “Well ... that’s not the end of the world either.”

  “They’re going to be doing things in your house.”

  Silence greeted me on the other end of the call, and I thought perhaps I’d actually managed to win. Then he spoke.

  “Don’t ever tell me what they do in my house,” he said finally. “I don’t want to know. Your sister may be an adult, but she’s still my baby ... and I will thump that handsy cop if he’s not careful.”

  “You should kick them out. Then they won’t be doing it in your house.”

  “I’m not doing that.” Dad was firm. “Your sister asked for a favor and I gave it to her. I’m not taking it back. You need to come up with a way to coexist with her. If you don’t, that’s on you.

  “Suck it up,” he continued. “You’re an adult, the fact that you still live with me notwithstanding. Your sister is staying and that’s all there is to it. Find a way to get along or avoid each other. I don’t really care which.”

  I was about to argue further but the call went dead. I stared at my cell for a long time, considered throwing it against the wall to relieve some of my anger, but ultimately slipped it into my pocket.

  This was going to be the worst week ever.

  AISLING AND GRIFFIN, as promised, were in the game room when I’d finished for the day. They had the lights dimmed to create a romantic atmosphere and were snuggled on the couch with their martinis and a fuzzy blanket when I entered.

  “Oh, man!” If I wasn’t already annoyed, the sight of The Notebook playing on the big screen television would’ve sent me careening over the edge. “You can’t be serious. The Pistons are playing.”

  “The Pistons suck,” Aisling fired back. “This movie is a classic.”

  “You don’t even like chick flicks,” I argued.

  “No, but I like shirtless Ryan Gosling. Plus, the chick makes me laugh.”

  “That’s because she’s mouthy like you,” Griffin said, readjusting his arm around Aisling’s shoulders so he could tug her closer.

  I made a face behind his back before collecting myself. “Do you like a lot of chick flicks, Griffin? I had no idea.”

  “I like this one because it gets your sister going,” Griffin replied, his eyes never leaving the screen. “I figure we might as well make the most of our new living situation and treat it like a stay at a hotel.”

  Hmm. That was something to consider. “Why don’t you go to a hotel? I bet Dad would pay for it. You could get room service and everything if you went to a hotel.”

  “We have cooks and maids here,” Aisling replied. “Plus, we can be as loud as we want here.”

  I had no idea what she meant, but I had a few suspicions. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Do it in another room,” Griffin suggested. “You’ll ruin my night if you do it in here.”

  “He’s a sympathetic puker,” Aisling explained. “If you throw up, he will, too.”

  “You’re a sympathetic puker,” Griffin countered. “Don’t put that on me.”

  “When I puke, you throw up, too.”

  “I did that one time.”

  “Which means you’re a sympathetic puker.”

  “Whatever.” Agitation flashed over Griffin’s face. “I won’t let you drag me into a fight. This is supposed to be a fun evening. Let’s focus on the movie ... and then each other. Do you think you can do that?”

  Aisling beamed as she tilted her chin and rubbed her nose against his jawline. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Ugh. I was definitely going to puke. “I want to kill both of you. I hope you know that.”

  “We know,” Griffin said. “Consider yourself warned about making death threats.”

  “Oh, whatever. I ... .” Whatever I was going to say died on my lips as a loud blaring noise filled the room and caused me to snap my head in the direction of the red light of the security system panel on the wall. It was ominously blinking.

  “What is that?” Griffin asked, instantly alert. “Is that a fire alarm?”

  I shook my head. “Security alarm.”

  “Does that mean someone is in the house?”

  I held my hands palms out and shrugged. “I have no idea. We need to look.”

  4

  Four

  “I didn’t even know you had security in this place.”

  Griffin grabbed Aisling’s hand and pulled her to his side, his cop instincts taking over.

  “Of course we have security,” I shot back. “We’re reapers, and people try to kill us all the time.”

  “To be fair, no one tried to kill us before our mother came back from the dead,” Aisling argued. She was still wearing one of Dad’s smoking jackets, which was far too large and reminded me of when she was a kid and announced she was goi
ng to work with Dad, and to do so she needed to dress like him. She hopped in his clothes that day, too. It was a lot cuter back then.

  “Don’t blame this on Mom,” I snapped, fury I didn’t know I felt clawing through my chest. “It’s not as if she’s breaking into the house.”

  “That we know of,” Aisling shot back.

  “Okay, that will be enough of that.” Griffin smoothly stepped between us. He was all business. “What’s the deal with the alarm?”

  His tone irked me, but I knew he was only trying to keep Aisling safe. I should’ve been happy for that. But because he was now taking control of my domain, I couldn’t refrain from being annoyed. “I’ll handle the alarm.”

  “No, we’re going to handle the alarm.” He refused to back down as he gripped Aisling’s wrist. At first I thought it was some cuddly love bug way to touch her. After a moment’s contemplation, I understood he was trying to keep her from running off half-cocked and rolling into trouble. He was good in a crisis, which I sometimes forgot because I figured he was a moron for willingly wanting to take on my sister.

  “I don’t even know that there’s anything to handle,” I said finally, his rational tone serving as a calming balm. “It might be some sort of glitch.”

  “I’ve been here hundreds of times the past few months and never heard it glitch before. I didn’t even know you guys had a security system, at least not like this. I thought, from the stories I heard, that you had sensors on the windows to keep Aisling in when she was a teenager. How far beyond that does it go?”

  “All the windows have sensors,” I replied, searching my memory. “The doors, too. There’s a special security thing for the basement, but I have no idea if that’s functioning any longer. Dad set it up because Redmond was growing pot in the basement and he wanted to dissuade him from doing it.”

  “Did it work?”

  I shook my head. “We just figured out where the cameras were picking up motion and spoofed it. Then he switched to night vision cameras and Cillian hacked those. You know, now that I think about it, we were awful kids.”