“And you’re willing to speak for all of our children?” Mom challenged.
“I willing to speak for my children,” Dad clarified. “My children are old enough to take care of themselves, but I’ll always protect them. I’m not sure I can say the same about you.”
Mom wet her lips as she decided how to proceed. “Fine, Cormack,” she said finally. “We’ll go. I’ll consider your … opinion … and make a decision. This isn’t over, though.”
“Oh, I know that,” Dad said, his voice weary and resigned. “I have a feeling it won’t be over for a very long time.”
I watched Mom and the rogue reaper move toward the back gate, their heads bent together as they exchanged heated whispers. Bub lingered, his eyes thoughtful as they locked onto mine.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Bub said, shaking his oddly shaped head. “You just constantly surprise me.”
“Get used to it,” I said, leaning my head against Dad’s shoulder as he rested his cheek on my forehead. “I’m Cormack Grimlock’s daughter. I’m always full of surprises.”
2
Two
Three Months Later
“I’m not going, and you can’t make me!”
Being a reaper isn’t easy. Heck, it’s not even fun most of the time. Okay, there are hilarious aspects to it and, truth be told, I can make almost anything fun if I really put my mind to it. I don’t care what my brothers say, that’s totally true.
Today, though, is another story. Today is one of those days I want to tie all of my charges to chairs, douse them with gasoline and set fire to them. It started with Gladys Smoot, who refused to go until I watered her prize-winning roses, and then I moved on to Rebecca Forest, who was wound so tight I thought she might explode when she explained it was impossible that she was dead because she flossed daily. Then there was … this guy. This guy was the king of the douche pile.
I sucked in a breath and regarded Lloyd Debkins III with my best “you’re going to do what I say and like it” look. “Mr. Debkins … .”
“You have to call me State Representative Debkins,” Lloyd bellowed, causing me to cringe. Thankfully I was the only one to hear him. I was sure the walls in this seedy motel were paper-thin.
“State Representative Debkins, the thing is, you don’t have a choice in the matter,” I said, trying a different tactic. My brothers have warned me about talking to charges so many times I’ve lost count. I can’t seem to help myself, though. Sucking them into my scepter without giving them a chance to figure out what’s going on seems mean – and not enjoyable mean, like yanking my arch nemesis Angelina Davenport’s hair, mind you. It’s more akin to kicking puppies mean. Even I wouldn’t do that. I would, however, kick Angelina until my foot fell off. Take from that what you will.
“I’m not going,” Lloyd said, glancing around the motel room. “Where are my car keys? I have to get out of here and call my aides. They’ll know what to do.”
“They’ll know what to do with your dead body?” I prodded. “What kind of aides are you employing, man?”
Lloyd scowled. “I don’t care what you say,” he said, pacing next to the bed. “I know I’m not dead. This is all a trick. Someone made those bodies up to look like us. That has to be it.
“I’ll bet Todd Masterson put you up to this, didn’t he?” he continued. “He’s always going on and on about how my family values stance is just smoke and mirrors. This whole thing reeks of Masterson.”
“Uh-uh.” I had no idea who Todd Masterson was, but Lloyd Debkins was a man living in denial.
“What about me?”
I shifted my gaze to the pretty woman standing on the other side of the bed. Unlike Lloyd, who wore cotton boxer shorts and black socks pulled up to mid-calf, Petunia Love was naked and seemed to be handling things in a more mature fashion. Well ... kind of.
“You’re going to move on, too,” I said, flashing a bright smile at the sad soul. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy where you’re going.” I checked the file in my hand again to make sure. “Yup. You’re going to Heaven. That should make you happy.”
“I’m going to Heaven?” Petunia appeared surprised. “I thought for sure all of the bad stuff I’ve done would make that not happen.”
“Apparently not.” I checked the file one more time to make sure, scanning the fine print this time. My heart rolled when I got to the good stuff, which in this case was actually the bad stuff. “I think your childhood probably has something to do with it.”
I should hope so. Petunia Love – real name Darlene Hopper – was beaten by her stepfather until she could barely walk when she was sixteen. The beating left her with mental deficits, and her mother opted to remain with her deadbeat husband rather than protect her only child. Petunia had been on her own ever since, and she’d had to do some rather … unsavory … things to survive.
“She can’t go to Heaven,” Lloyd scoffed. “She’s a hooker.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth as Petunia lowered her eyes. I felt inexplicably sad for her. “She’s going to Heaven,” I shot back. “It’s in the file. It doesn’t matter that she’s a hooker. It matters that she has a good heart. You, on the other hand, aren’t so lucky.”
“He’s not going to Heaven?” Petunia asked, her blue eyes widening. “How come?”
“Because he’s a very bad man,” I replied. “Not to mention, well, I think he’s probably a douche to boot. No one likes douches. They’re not welcome in Heaven.”
“Stop saying things like that, you little twit,” Lloyd hissed. “I am not a douche. I’m an elected official. I fight for the people. I’m a man who has worked hard to help Oakland County’s most at-risk members.
“Did you know I started a rape survivors group at the community college?” he continued. “Did you know that I got the old folks at the county veterans hospital a new flat-screen television? Did you know I work collecting money for the Salvation Army every Christmas?”
Lloyd puffed out his chest so far I wanted to pop him like a balloon. I wanted to use a needle, too. A really big needle, in fact.
“I know you’ve been skimming from your election fund,” I replied, keeping my tone even. “I know you ran on a platform of family values and getting graft out of public office, and then proceeded to bend your secretary over her desk for three months until she got pregnant and you threatened her with losing her job if she didn’t get an abortion – an abortion you paid for with state funds.
“I know you use your college rape group to pick up chicks,” I said. “I know your wife is at home and doesn’t care because she’s doing the pool boy. You know that, too, because you’re planning the pool boy’s murder.
“I know that for every dollar you collect for the veterans, you keep seventy-five cents for yourself, and that television you keep touting came from your house so you could use the money to buy a bigger one for yourself,” I said. “I know that you’ve been having sex with poor Petunia here twice a week for the past month. I know that you like to get rough. I also know you’re the idiot who bought cocaine laced with something that killed both of you from some kid off the street.”
Lloyd’s mouth dropped open. “How can you possibly know all of that?”
“It’s the file,” I said, shaking the manila folder for emphasis. “Poor Petunia here never had a chance. She did the best she could. You, on the other hand, are a total douche. No Heaven for you.”
“Let me see that,” Lloyd said, striding forward and reaching for the file. Because he was actually dead on the bed, his spirit’s hand flew through the file without making contact. “What the … ?”
“You’re dead, Lloyd,” I said, relishing my role as spoiler. “You screwed the pooch, and it’s come back to haunt you.” I shot an apologetic look in Petunia’s direction. “I don’t mean to say that you’re a dog. I’m just messing with Lloyd here.”
Petunia solemnly nodded. “Do they have music in Heaven?” She was fixated on the idea of moving on. I was glad she was go
ing to a better place. This world had been nothing but cruel to her – and I wanted to pop her mother in the face on her behalf – but her luck was about to change.
“They have music,” I confirmed. I’m not actually sure if that’s true, but people have to want to go to Heaven for a reason. I’m guessing that means they get all the good music as well, which means Hell is full of boy band tunes. “They have the best food, too.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “You can eat as much as you want without getting fat, too.” What? That’s always how I picture Heaven. They have good food, music and wine. There would be no reason to go otherwise.
“This is just … ludicrous,” Lloyd spat, his eyes landing on the dead duo on the bed. Poor Petunia looked as if she’d expired while Lloyd was trying to play Find the Ferret. Fortunately for both of them, he died before finding … um … his little rodent. His hand was literally in his pants, which made me chuckle.
“Do you want to know what’s really funny about this?” I asked.
“Not really,” Lloyd replied.
“What’s really funny about all of this is that when your body is discovered, the media is going to have a field day with all of the dirty details,” I said, ignoring Lloyd’s distress as he whimpered. “They’re going to talk about your hand being in your pants, the cocaine on the table and all your dirty dealings in that file over there. You’re going to be the talk of the state.”
Lloyd went slack jawed. “No!”
“Yes,” I said, enthusiastically bobbing my head. “There will be photographs of your dead body, and some unethical journalist will pay someone in the medical examiner’s office to get them and then they’ll publish them.” Now, I was just making stuff up, but Lloyd was such a tool he deserved it.
“This cannot happen!” Lloyd shrieked, scanning the room with a panicked look. “People cannot find out what I’ve been up to. Quick! Clean up all the cocaine and dress me.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Yes, it is.” Lloyd was clearly used to getting his own way. “If you dress me and move me to that chair and clean up all of the … .”
“Sex toys?”
“Shut your filthy mouth,” Lloyd howled. “Those aren’t sex toys. That’s a personal massager. I need it for my … back.”
“You need it for her because you like to pretend you’re good in bed,” I countered. “Let’s pretend the massager is medicinal, though. Why do you need the anal beads ? I’m guessing they’re not for Petunia.”
Petunia shook her head. “He would have to pay extra for that, and he’s really cheap,” she supplied. “He makes sure he finishes with two minutes to spare so he won’t get charged extra. He doesn’t even tip.”
“You really are a douche, Lloyd,” I said, shaking my head.
“Start cleaning up this mess,” Lloyd ordered. “I am your state representative. You have to do what I say. It’s the law.”
I rolled my eyes. “My boyfriend is a detective with the Detroit Police Department,” I countered. “Would you like me to call him and ask whether it’s the law?”
“No!” Lloyd’s hand flew out wildly as he tried to grab my hair. He came up empty because he didn’t have physical form, but it was still annoying.
“Is your boyfriend really a detective?” Petunia asked.
I nodded.
“Will he come here and investigate … all of this?” She gestured at the low rent sex den.
“This is Oakland County,” I reminded her. “It’s not his jurisdiction.”
“Oh. Will I really be on the news?” Petunia looked excited at the prospect.
“You will,” I said. “Lloyd here will get all of the really juicy headlines, though. Don’t worry about that.”
“I’ve had just about enough of you, young lady,” Lloyd said, his hands landing on his ethereal hips. “Under state code 12345, subsection B, you are required by law to do as I say. You could go to prison for ten years if you don’t.”
What a windbag. “State code 12345?”
“Yes.”
“Well, under Aisling code 6789, subsection you’re a douche, I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do,” I shot back, causing Petunia to giggle. For some reason, that made putting up with Lloyd’s antics worth the time being expended.
“Your mother must be so proud of the … horror … she raised,” Lloyd spat.
My mother? That was an interesting thought. I hadn’t seen my mother since she returned from the dead and showed up on my father’s back lawn three months ago. She made noise about wanting to see the family, and when we didn’t immediately fall at her feet she disappeared into the ether.
We hadn’t seen her since that night, not that I miss her or anything. What? I don’t. I’m merely curious. I’m pretty sure the woman is running around feeding off souls to sustain herself – although I have to admit I have no proof of that – and I’m dying to find out what her favorite restaurant is these days. Huh. That sounds gross, doesn’t it? Isn’t it getting close to dinner time?
“My mother is a horror all her own,” I replied. “She’s still better than you, though.”
“I am not going to put up with this for one more second,” Lloyd announced. “If you expect to suck my soul into that … wand of death you’re clutching, you have to pick up this mess. Otherwise I won’t go.”
“Whatever,” I said, blowing out an exaggerated sigh. “Petunia, are you ready to go?”
“To Heaven, right?”
Life had kicked Petunia Love so many times she had to be sure before she agreed to anything.
“To Heaven,” I confirmed, offering her a sad smile. “It will be better.”
“I’m ready,” Petunia said.
I extended the scepter and absorbed her soul, Lloyd watching with unveiled interest. When I was done, I turned to him. “Are you ready to go to Hell, douchebag?”
“I’m not going with you,” Lloyd said, stomping his foot but eliciting no sound. “I’m the boss. I say I’m not going until you clean up this mess, and that’s final. I have to leave my pristine legacy intact.”
“Lloyd, not only am I not going to clean up this mess before you go, I’m also going to buy ten copies of tomorrow’s newspaper and frame them so I never forget this moment,” I said. “You make evil people – like those jackholes who burn animals alive, for example – look good. That’s how terrible you are.”
“I’m not going.” Lloyd was defiant until the end. Unfortunately for him, I was out of patience.
“You’re already gone, Lloyd,” I said. “You have to accept your new reality and move on.”
Actually, that was good advice for both of us.
3
Three
I let myself into the townhouse I shared with my best friend shortly before six and dropped my keys on the table by the front door as I scanned the living room. It was empty. It was never empty. It was a two-bedroom townhouse, and while only two people shared the mortgage, four people essentially lived in what felt like an increasingly smaller space.
Jeremiah “Jerry” Collins had been my best friend since kindergarten. He claimed we were best friends before that but we just hadn’t known it. Before I joined the family business I worked a regular office job. Jerry and I bought the townhouse because we’re tragically co-dependent and couldn’t live without one another. After losing my job, I had no choice but to join the reaping business if I planned to continue paying half of the mortgage, which Jerry insisted was necessary.
Over the intervening months I’d picked up a boyfriend I adored and Jerry had started dating my twin brother Aidan. Don’t ask. I’m still traumatized when they paw each other on the couch. Now we are a happy foursome – most of the time. Aidan and my boyfriend, Griffin Taylor, fight like reapers and wraiths when the mood strikes, but I’m used to people fighting so I find comfort in their periodic rages. That didn’t stop me from pulling up short when I rounded the corner and found Griffin and Aidan sittin
g together at the kitchen table.
No one was fighting. No boasting and chest bumping. What? They like sports and they do things like that from time to time. Now, though, they sat at the table, heads bent together as they whispered, and I immediately knew something was going on.
“Hello, boys,” I drawled, causing them to jerk their heads in my direction. They obviously hadn’t heard me enter.
“Hey, baby,” Griffin said, pushing himself up from the table and ambling over to drop a kiss on my cheek. “How was your day?”
Griffin Taylor has the sort of rugged good looks that make women go weak in the knees. I should know. He’s made me go weak in the knees a few times. Yeah, I admit it. Sue me. He makes my heart warm and gooey when I see him. Well, most of the time. Today I was suspicious, though.
“It was fine,” I said, dropping my purse on the floor. Jerry would have a fit when he got home – he’s something of a neat freak – but he’ll get over it when I tell him Aidan and Griffin were up to something. As the center of our social world, Jerry doesn’t like being left out of things. “How was your day?”
“Boring,” Griffin replied, brushing my dark hair from my face. Everyone in my family – except my missing mother – has dark black hair and purple eyes. We look like a genetic experiment gone awry. I’d taken to dropping white highlights in my hair to stand out, which annoyed my father even as he laughed about it. We’re a complicated family. “What did you do today? You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
Griffin scanned my body with his chocolate eyes as he looked for gaping wounds. I’d been off reaper probation for three months, which meant I was allowed to go on assignments alone instead of having one of my brothers act as a chaperone. I should’ve been offended by Griffin’s suggestion that I might’ve gotten hurt during my daily rounds, but since my hip still aches when it rains thanks to an injury I sustained months ago while on the job, I didn’t have a lot of room for moral outrage. Plus, well, I was tired and hungry. Who wants to feign outrage when dinner is right around the corner?
Grim Reunion (Aisling Grimlock Book 4) Page 2
