Grim Holiday (Aisling Grimlock Book 6)

by Amanda M. Lee

  I made a face as I cringed back from him. “That’s gross. Don’t lick my face.”

  “I licked my thumb and then your face. There’s a difference.”

  “Not in my head.”

  “If I licked your face you’d like it.” Jerry graced me with a stern look as he stared at my forehead. “The bangs have to go. I was undecided when you first got them, but now I hate them.”

  “Join the club.”

  “They’ll grow out fast enough.” Jerry dropped the bakery box on the table and pulled me in for a surprise hug. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  He said the words without his usual playful smile. “Jerry … is something wrong?”

  “No. Why would anything be wrong?”

  I had no answer, yet something about his demeanor bothered me. “I know you were upset you couldn’t visit me in the hospital … but it’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay! They kicked me out of the hospital,” Jerry snapped, his voice rising.

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. I’d obviously stumbled over a sore subject. “I’m really sorry about that, Jerry. If I’d been awake I would’ve fought the doctor to the death to keep you close. You know that.”

  “I do know that.” Jerry bobbed his head in agreement. “That doesn’t change the fact that you almost died and I wasn’t there.”

  “I … didn’t almost die.”

  “You did.”

  “But I didn’t, Jerry.” I gripped his hand tightly. We were always free with the affection and I realized – rather after the fact, I admit – that I hadn’t spent nearly enough time with him since waking up in the hospital. “I never felt as if I was dying when I was unconscious. I think I would’ve known if that was a possibility.”

  Despite himself, Jerry was intrigued. “What did you feel?”

  “I felt as if I was floating,” I answered. “I could hear all of you guys talking. I had no idea how much time had passed. We’ve talked about it since – mostly Cillian and me – and we think it was part of a spell or something.”

  “You do?” Jerry arched an eyebrow as he considered the statement. “Why?”

  “Because the doctor couldn’t figure out why I didn’t wake up sooner. To be totally honest, while I was sore and tired upon waking, I certainly didn’t feel as if I was hanging around death’s door for days, like you guys seemed to believe.”

  “So you think someone tried to keep you magically trapped, huh?” Jerry warmed to the idea immediately. “That means you didn’t almost die. I’m so relieved, Bug.” Jerry threw his arms around me and gave me a tight hug, earning an odd look from Griffin, who wisely kept his distance across the room so we could bond out of earshot. “I never would’ve forgiven you if you died on me. You know that, right?”

  Jerry’s eyes were serious when he pulled away, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “I know that. There’s nothing on this Earth that could make me want to leave you, Jerry. You have to know that.”

  “Of course I do. I’m the best.”

  I smiled, relieved that he appeared to be returning to his normal, gregarious self. “You are the best.” We lapsed into comfortable silence for a moment before something occurred to me. “As the best – the best baker, friend and man who ever existed, for the record – I have a favor to ask of you.”

  Jerry wasn’t a fool. He was used to my whims and moods, and when I risked a glance in his direction I found him scowling.

  “What?”

  “You just said all of that to manipulate me into giving you what you want,” Jerry hissed, annoyed. “I’m not an idiot. I know how you work.”

  “Yes, well, you’re definitely not an idiot,” I conceded. “I meant every single thing I said, though. I didn’t come up with the idea to manipulate you until we were done.”

  “Oh, well, that’s perfectly understandable.” Jerry brightened considerably. “What’s your idea?”

  I told him what I figured out regarding Angelina and the mirror monster, keeping my voice low and my expression serene so when my father, brothers or Griffin glanced in our direction they wouldn’t be suspicious. They would merely see two best friends catching up after a life-and-death situation almost tragically ripped them asunder. What? Too dramatic?

  “So, as you can see, I find myself in a quandary,” I finished. “I need to see inside of that house, but they’re not going to let me wander around on my own.”

  “And how do you expect me to help?” The fact that Jerry wasn’t jumping at the chance to sneak me out of Grimlock Manor was cause for alarm.

  “Well … .”

  “No, I’m not playing this game.” Jerry immediately started shaking his head. “You’re too weak. If you try anything, I’ll tell.”

  I narrowed my eyes to purple slits. “You’d tattle?”

  It was supposed to be a dare, but it didn’t work. “I’d tattle on you in a heartbeat to keep you safe,” Jerry replied, unruffled. “You’re not leaving this house.”

  “I take back all of the nice things I said about you.”

  “No, you don’t. That’s the rage talking. You’ll get over it. I found your Christmas gift for Griffin in your car, by the way. It was already gift-wrapped, but I didn’t like the paper, so I wrapped it myself. It was a lovely choice. I think he’ll love it.”

  Frustration warred with delight as I attempted to regain control of my focus. “You suck for saying that. Now I can’t be angry.”

  “I know. It’s hard, but you’ll survive.” Jerry slipped his arm around my shoulders and I rested my head against his chest as I met Griffin’s gaze. He smiled at the cozy scene, chatting amiably with his mother as my mind went into overdrive.

  “What if I had a different scheme?” I asked, things sliding into place. “Would you agree to help me if I didn’t leave the house?”

  “Not if it involves going into the basement to get the mirrors.” Jerry’s answer was automatic, but that scenario hadn’t even occurred to me.

  “No, not that. I have no interest in dying.”

  Jerry blew out a sigh. “What’s your idea?”

  “If I can’t go to the house, perhaps I can get someone who knows something about the house to come to me,” I replied.

  It took Jerry a moment to understand what I was saying. “Are you serious? You want to bring … that thing … into your house?”

  “I don’t see where I have a lot of choice,” I replied. “I will not let them cut me out of this investigation. This happened to me. I will be part of the wrap-up.”

  “Oh, geez.” Jerry rolled his eyes. “Here we go with the girl power.”

  “You didn’t say that when I let you be Catwoman for Halloween, even though I already had a very expensive costume,” I reminded him.

  Jerry exhaled heavily, ruffling his bangs. “Fine. I’ll help. What do you want me to do?”

  I didn’t bother tamping down the deviousness when it touched my smile. “I’m so very glad you asked.”

  THE KNOCK ON the door an hour later wasn’t surprising. I was still trying to find a rational way to explain what I’d done as I stood next to the parlor couch when Angelina ran into the room, her chest heaving and her eyes wildly glancing around. Her entrance was hilarious.

  What? I have the Christmas spirit. Where Angelina is concerned I’m the Grinch. That’s totally a Christmas spirit, by the way. It’s fine.

  “Where is Cillian? Is he all right?”

  Cillian’s mouth dropped open as he peered around Maya’s shoulder and focused on Angelina. “I … what?”

  “Do you knock?” Dad asked, annoyed.

  “I did knock,” Angelina argued, her breath coming out in gasps. “The second that old dude who answers your door showed up I barreled past him to get inside. I got your text message, Cillian. I’m ready to talk.”

  Cillian looked to be at a loss, which was understandable. “I didn’t text you.”

  Angelina wasn’t about to be denied. “You did so.”

  �
�I did not.”

  “You did so.”

  “I did not.”

  “So!”

  “Not!” Cillian rarely showed he had a temper, but it was obvious now.

  “He didn’t text you, Angelina,” I offered, brushing the cupcake crumbs from my shirt as I steadfastly ignored Griffin’s suspicious gaze. “I did.”

  “No, it came from his phone.” Angelina dug in her pocket and held up her jewel-encrusted phone for emphasis. “That’s the only reason I came. I would’ve ignored any text you sent.”

  And rightly so. I couldn’t blame her on that one. “Yes, well, we stole his phone when he wasn’t looking so I could text you,” I explained. “I knew you wouldn’t come to the house if I asked, and all of the men in this place have me under house arrest. It’s mildly insulting.”

  “I actually stole the phone,” Jerry volunteered, puffing out his chest with pride. “I was very stealthy when I took it … and when I put it back.”

  “Is that when I asked if you were patting my butt and you said yes?” Cillian challenged, yanking his phone out of his pocket and flicking through the text messages. “Son of a … Aisling!”

  “I need to talk to her,” I argued, refusing to back down. “I can’t be held responsible for my actions when I’m being smothered.”

  “Who’s smothering you?” Dad bellowed, his annoyance evident. “We’re trying to protect you, not smother you.”

  “I might smother her later,” Griffin interjected, his expression dark.

  “You wouldn’t let me go back to the Gentry house,” I reminded him. “I had my epiphany, but you wouldn’t let me chase it. I had no other choice but to take matters into my own hands.”

  “So you invited the town slut into our house?” Redmond challenged. “You hate her.”

  “I am not the town slut,” Angelina sniffed, her ego clearly taking a blow given the shift in circumstances. “Aisling is the town slut. Her pimp told me so.”

  “That was a much better burn.” I offered her a light pat on the shoulder. I figured I owed her one after using false pretenses to get her to the house. I knew she still had feelings for Cillian – perhaps even real feelings – but I was desperate. “Do you feel better?”

  Angelina scalded me with an incredulous look. “No. I feel worse.”

  “Really? Well, there’s not much I can do about that. I do need to talk to you while you’re here, though. How about we take our conversation to the foyer so we don’t bother anyone else? I think that would be best.”

  I was hopeful the hate for Angelina would outweigh the need to babysit me. I was, of course, disappointed.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Dad growled.

  “And then when you think about it because you can’t stop yourself, don’t think about it again,” Griffin added. “You’re not asking her any questions without us present.”

  “But … .”

  “Period.” Griffin growled.

  “You guys bite the big one,” I complained, rolling my neck so I could stare at the ceiling. “I seriously can’t stand any of you right now.”

  “Hey! I helped you!” Jerry was affronted.

  “Except for Jerry,” I conceded. “I always love my Jerry.”

  Jerry preened under the compliment as Angelina made a disgusted face.

  “Yes, we all love Jerry the fairy,” Angelina muttered.

  I didn’t think before I grabbed, twining my fingers into Angelina’s hair and giving it a vicious yank. “Don’t call him that!”

  “Aisling, now is not the time to get into a physical fight,” Griffin ordered, jumping to his feet. He looked terrified. Perhaps he worried Angelina would hit me in the head. I felt bad for him but there was no way I could back down now.

  “That hurts,” Angelina screeched, lashing out with her fake fingernails.

  I grabbed her right hand – just to be on the safe side – and studied the expensive manicure. “Jerry, get me those nail clipper things of yours. I’m going to cut all of her nails off if she doesn’t answer my questions and stop insulting you.”

  Jerry smirked. “Good idea. I’ll get the Nair, too, in case we have to get really creative.”

  “Don’t you even think about doing either of those things,” Angelina seethed, fighting against me even though I had the upper hand. “I’ll make you pay.”

  “I’ll risk it.” I jerked on her hair for good measure. “Who hired you to sell the Gentry house … and have you seen anything odd since you’ve been hanging around in that creepy place?”

  “Odd? The only odd thing I’ve seen is you and your stupid boyfriend,” Angelina spat. “He may be hot, but he’s clearly mentally unstable if he thinks you’re a catch.”

  I yanked on her hair as Katherine frowned.

  “Is this normal?” Katherine asked Griffin, clearly worried.

  “As normal as anything else,” a blasé Griffin replied. “Aisling, if you end up hurt I’ll be so angry you’ll have to find a new house to hide in.”

  “I won’t get hurt.” I meant it. “Have you seen anything else odd?” I asked. “How about strange reflections in the mirrors?”

  For a split second Angelina’s face shifted – it was almost too fast to notice – but she was back to her usual self almost immediately. “Of course not. What are you even talking about? That’s an absolutely ludicrous question.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “You are so!”

  “I am not!”

  “Here we go,” Griffin muttered, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

  “I got the nail clippers and Nair,” Jerry announced, returning to the parlor. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “Her eyebrows,” I replied without hesitation. “Make sure you don’t do her upper lip, though. We don’t want to help her.”

  “I don’t have a hair lip!” Angelina shrieked, grunting when I tightened my grip on her hair.

  “You are a hair lip,” I countered. “Tell me who owns that house.”

  “Never!”

  “Okay, let me handle this.” Cillian used his hip to push me away, taking a moment to unclench my fist and untangle it from Angelina’s hair. He shoved me in Griffin’s direction and planted his hands on Angelina’s shoulders to keep her from chasing me. Her face went from a mask of anger and pain to happiness when she lifted her head and found him staring at her.

  “I’m so happy to see you.” Angelina sounded breathy and delighted, a combination I really hated.

  “Calm down, tiger,” Griffin admonished, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I think you’ve had more than enough excitement for one day.”

  I wasn’t even close, but I decided to see what Cillian would come up with.

  “I’m sorry Aisling lied to get you here, but we do need to know who is selling that house.” Cillian maintained a calm demeanor even though all eyes were on him. “Can you tell me who your client is?”

  “I … well … I’ve never technically met him,” Angelina admitted, her cheeks flushing. “All I know is that his name is Alan Gentry and he’s the grandson of the guy who built the house back in the day. I think his name was Oswald Gentry … or Orton Gentry. I forget.”

  “Do you have a contact number for him?”

  “I have an email address,” Angelina replied. “He signed all of the documents online. I’m sorry … but that’s all I have.”

  “We’ll take it.” Cillian forced a smile. “Thank you so much for your time, Angelina. We’re blessed that you did this for us.”

  “Yes, we’re blessed,” I intoned. “Just like your pimp when he realized skanks were in this holiday season and he could make you work double shifts.”

  “Oh, my!” Katherine pressed her lips together to keep from laughing as Angelina lunged at me. “This is an interesting dynamic.”

  “Then you’re not watching correctly,” Jerry advised. “By the way, you whore, I’m not a fairy!”

  “You’re definitely a fairy,�
�� Angelina argued.

  “Aisling, stop it,” Griffin ordered, struggling against my fervent weight.

  “I’m not done ripping her hair out,” I bellowed.

  “You’re done,” Griffin argued. “You’re so very, very done.”

  25

  Twenty-Five

  “Let me see your hands.”

  Despite my emotional display during Angelina’s visit, Griffin was remarkably calm. I sat on the counter in my bathroom and extended my hand so he could study the scrape across my right palm.

  “That doesn’t look too bad. I’ll clean it up, so sit there and behave. The mirrors have been removed from this room, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

  I knew about the mirrors better than him, so I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something snarky. I extended my hand and watched as he used a cotton ball to dab hydrogen peroxide on it. He took me by surprise when he kissed the wound and smiled.

  “I don’t think you require a bandage.”

  “I don’t think I required the peroxide either,” I pointed out, staring at him a moment. “I’m pretty sure the only germs Angelina is carrying have to do with STDs, and I have no intention of making out with her.”

  “And there go my pervy dreams.” Griffin forced a smile, but I could tell he wasn’t thrilled with my display.

  “You can yell at me, you know.” I don’t know why I said it. I wasn’t keen on a dressing down by my boyfriend. But he wasn’t himself. The struggle to remain on even footing with his mother while doting on me seemed to be getting the better of him. “I’ve been yelled at for my actions since I was a small child. I’m used to it. Heck, I almost expect it.”

  “I … .” Griffin stared at the ceramic tile for a long beat and then shook his head, pressing his hands to my hips and pinning me with a gaze that was supposed to reflect happiness but instead reminded me of abject misery. “I don’t want to yell. I don’t need to yell.”

  I didn’t believe that for a second. “Griffin, you’re angry with me and you have every right to be.” I couldn’t remember the last time I encouraged someone to yell at me. I was fairly certain that was because it had never happened. “I acted irresponsibly.”