“No. I … don’t know how I know. I guess I feel we should go in that direction.”
“Yes, well … .” Dad broke off and shared an enigmatic look with Griffin. “All right, now it’s time for you to be handsy, boy. You keep her with you at all times.”
“I have no intention of letting her out of my sight,” Griffin reassured him, grabbing my wrist. “I should’ve remembered to grab my cuffs.”
“Yes, because we all want mental images of you cuffing yourself to Aisling running through our minds on Christmas Eve,” Braden deadpanned. “Now who’s on the naughty list?”
“Better that than images of Aisling being taken or hurt,” Dad barked. “Pay attention, Braden. Worry about your sister and her perverted boyfriend later.”
“Yes, Braden,” Redmond said, feigning seriousness. “Pay attention. Try to forget about Griffin cuffing our sister so he can do something filthy to her. It’s easy.”
“I will seriously thump you!” Dad turned on Redmond, directing himself left, a furious look on his face.
I realized the mistake right away when a figure appeared in the mirror to his right, reaching out to grab the back of Dad’s head. “Look out!” I raised my knife and swiped at the hand emerging from the mirror, frowning when the blade passed through it and the hand dissolved into a form of sand and piled on the floor.
“What the … ?” Dad’s face flushed with color as he swiveled. “Stop fooling around!”
“We’ve got it, Dad. We won’t do it again.” Redmond was all business as he knelt next to the sand. “What is this?”
“I think he’s trying to re-grow his hand.” I didn’t bother getting close to the glittering pile of dust in the middle of the hallway, instead wiping my blade on Braden’s coat before hiding the knife inside mine. “That’s the same hand I chopped off in the game room.”
Redmond racked his memory. “You’re right. It is the same hand. At least this means we can hurt it. What happens if he sticks the rest of his body out? He can’t try to grow back a head, can he?”
“I’m guessing, like anything else, that beheading him will kill him,” Cillian volunteered.
“Good. Let’s do that.” Braden rested his hands on his hips. “I don’t like this thing. It’s sneaky and only attacks when your back is turned. I prefer an old-fashioned enemy who comes at you from the front.”
“He came after me from the front,” I murmured.
“Yeah, but you’re a girl.” Braden winked to let me know he was kidding. “We’re waiting for you, Gentry! Come and get us!”
It was a juvenile tactic, but I held my breath to see if it worked. It didn’t. “Let’s go farther in,” I suggested.
“Let’s all be quiet this time,” Dad added.
Braden opened his mouth and I could practically see his mind working as he thought of something snarky to say. I shook my head to keep him quiet and then shuffled to the right. There was something about the hallway wall that bothered me.
“Be careful, Aisling,” Griffin called to my back.
“I’m being careful,” I grumbled, running my hand over the ornate pastoral painting hanging vertically on the wall. “There’s no mirror over here. I’m fine.”
The words were barely out of my mouth when the painting swung inward – leaving the frame behind – and the faceless man appeared in the opening. I was caught off guard and could do nothing but gape for what felt like forever. Then, as if in slow motion, Dad and Griffin reached for me. But the faceless man was faster, and yanked me through the frame.
I hit the ground with a loud “oomph,” rolling to my side as my hip screamed in protest. The faceless man – sans one hand – slammed the painting shut as Griffin screamed, cutting me off from my family and leaving me alone with a man who couldn’t communicate.
“Hello, Aisling.”
I turned to find my mother sitting on a parlor chair, Angelina cowering and crying at her feet. My mother appeared calm, as if she expected this to happen, and sipped something that looked like brandy from a blue goblet.
“Mom?”
“I knew you would show up eventually.” Mom was eerily calm. “Can I get you something to soothe your nerves? We need to have a talk.”
Oh, well, crap. I totally fouled up this one.
31
Thirty-One
“What are you doing here?”
I did my best to remain calm. I could hear the cavalry beating against the other side of the wall, desperate to get to me. I had my own issues to deal with … and none of them looked happy. That was fairly impressive given the mirror man had no face.
“Having a drink.” Mom raised her glass and smiled. “What would you like?”
“To get out of this room.” I answered automatically, lowering my gaze to Angelina as she made herself small on the floor. “What’s your deal?”
“What’s my deal?” Angelina practically spat out the words. “What’s my deal? Have you looked at that guy? He doesn’t have a face.”
“I’ve seen him before,” I replied. “He’s an asshat. Ignore him.”
“Oh, that’s easy for you to say,” Angelina groused. “Your mother says she’s going to feed me to him if I don’t shut my mouth. She’s been positively rude.”
“Is that so?” I leveled a cold look at my mother before shifting my full attention to the mirror creature. “I’ll take a wild guess … you’re Otto Gentry, right?”
The mirror man didn’t look surprised, instead offering me a curt nod as he paced on the other side of the painting.
“Cat got your tongue?” I snickered at the joke as my mother scalded me with a reproving look. “How are you still alive? Most people think you’re dead, by the way. Er, well, I guess it’s fair to say most people assume you died and no one cares. I guess that’s what happens when you’re the neighborhood loner.”
“Otto has a very interesting story.” Mom kept her voice light, as if she was relating a bedtime story for my amusement. “It took me a bit of time to get it out of him – communication isn’t easy when … well … um … .”
“You don’t have a mouth?” I suggested.
Mom nodded. “We had a long discussion last night, though, and I believe I’m up to date on his history.”
Hmm. Mom was going out of her way to be friendly, trying to put me at ease as she reclined in the chair. Something about her demeanor told me otherwise. “I saw you guys in the windows last night,” I supplied, licking my lips as I rolled to get more comfortable on the floor. “This shag carpet is nice, by the way. They say the seventies never really went out of style. I’m glad to see someone took that to heart.”
Instead of reacting with violence – as I expected – the mirror man made a faint whining and gestured toward the painting.
“Yes, Otto, I hear them out there.” Mom was blasé. “They can’t get in, and they won’t leave without Aisling. I warned you this would happen. You’re just going to have to suck it up.”
I narrowed my eyes, frustrated. “It’s always good to look at the bright side. There’s nothing a good ‘I told you so’ can’t fix when you’re dealing with a man without a face.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Mom said. “So … where did we land on the drink?”
Like I would ever drink anything in this hole. “I’m not thirsty.”
“Suit yourself.” Mom sipped her cocktail and stared. “How much do you know?”
That had to be a trick question. Still, I needed to buy time. I couldn’t count on the others to rescue me. I needed to think of a way to get myself out of this mess – and possibly Angelina, if she turned out to be innocent – and that was a whole other problem.
“I know that someone contacted Angelina via email and listed the Gentry house with her,” I answered, debating how much I should tell. Ultimately I decided it didn’t matter what I said as long as I stretched things out. “I ran into her on the sidewalk before I saw the mirror man for the first time. She was looking in a pocket mirror. I’m assuming Otto
looked through it and saw me.”
“Very good.” Mom beamed as if she was the teacher and I the student who’d just recited my multiplication tables for the first time. “What else?”
“I saw him in the mirror at Sunset Acres,” I volunteered. “I thought I was imagining things at first and got distracted by a wraith. Then I saw him in the parking lot of the grocery store. I thought I imagined that, too. I didn’t realize he was real until Braden and I both saw him in the mirror at the townhouse.”
“Yes, well, he recognized you as something … otherworldly,” Mom explained. “He remembered the black hair and purple eyes from when you were children. He knew you were a Grimlock.”
“That doesn’t explain what he is … or how he travels by mirror.”
“Yes, I’ve had a bit of trouble sussing that out myself,” Mom admitted. “He has some books.” She vaguely gestured at a table on the other side of the chair. “From what I’ve been able to ascertain, he basically sacrificed his soul to live forever.”
“Huh. How funny is that? I can’t imagine anyone doing anything of the sort.”
Mom ignored the dig. “The books are old and not exactly clear,” she continued. “I believe he sucks souls to maintain his … life. He does it once a year. In fact, he burns them out rather than sucking, so there’s a bit of difference in methodology.”
I pictured the burned skin on my arms from the first attack. That explained a lot. I was unconscious for so long because he’d tried to suck me dry before I fell unconscious.
“Before now he went after solicitors – you know, the people who knock on your door and ask if you want a new roof – and that sustained him,” Mom continued, unnaturally chipper. “Unfortunately, no one stopped over the past year and he’s getting desperate. He’s almost out of time.”
“That’s why he found a way to list the house with Angelina,” I mused, sparing a glance for my arch nemesis as she hid her face and attempted to make herself small. “He wanted to draw victims to the house. Why not simply eat her from the beginning? Why drag things out?”
“Oh, well, thanks,” Angelina snapped. “I just … freaking hate you.”
“I hate you more.”
“That’s not even possible.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Girls, knock it off,” Mom ordered mildly. “We’re talking about something serious here. As for why he didn’t eat Angelina, I believe it’s because he’s so late in the cycle that she won’t be enough. He either needs multiple humans or something a bit more powerful. Angelina is too … small … to serve as a full meal.”
“That’s because I work out,” Angelina said proudly. “I’m all muscle.”
“You’re all mouth,” I shot back. “Now be quiet.” I tilted my head to the side as I regarded Otto. “He somehow realized what we are, didn’t he? He thought a reaper would perhaps sustain him and stave off the inevitable.”
“That seems to be the case,” Mom agreed.
“And how do you figure into this?”
“I’ve been watching the house,” Mom answered, her face unreadable. “I was worried after the attack, so I made sure someone was watching you at all times. The other night, Bub caught sight of someone – or perhaps, something is more accurate – looking through the windows of the house. He claimed it didn’t have a face.”
Bub was her pet gargoyle. She sent him out periodically to spy. I hadn’t seen him in weeks. Of course, I didn’t care enough to ask about him. “Ah. Otto. You’re a peeping Tom, too, huh? You’re a sick bastard, Otto. Someone should take a sword to you.”
“Don’t push things, Aisling,” Mom warned when Otto took a menacing step in my direction. “Go back to your pacing, Otto. She’s mouthy. She comes by it naturally. She can’t help herself.”
“I’m thinking of having business cards made up that say that,” I offered.
Mom ignored the snark. “Bub told me what he saw, and I returned the next night to watch myself. Otto came back, so I followed him. I saw him go into the house and … decided to do some research.”
I pursed my lips, running the scenario through my head. Mom appeared calm, but I knew she was on edge. I had a feeling that was because she was just as much of a prisoner as I was. I don’t know why I believed that – it was a gut instinct more than anything – but I knew she wasn’t happy about the current predicament.
“You tracked Angelina down at the mall.” Things slid into place. “I saw you talking to her that day. You didn’t seem to be yelling – which I didn’t get – but I guess now I do.”
Mom brushed her thumb over her bottom lip. “You thought I was somehow making nice with Angelina?”
I shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”
“Yes, like your mother coming back from the dead and no one explaining how,” Angelina groused.
“I needed some information about the individual listing the house,” Mom explained. “I followed Angelina to the mall, ran into you, and then waited for Angelina to return to her car. I apologize if you believed anything untoward was occurring.”
“You apologize? To her?” Angelina was very close to melting down. “I’m the one being held prisoner.”
“Shut up, Angelina,” I ordered, adopting my most serious tone. She clearly didn’t understand what was happening, but I couldn’t take the time to explain in front of Otto. Mom was a captive who agreed to work with Otto to earn his trust. I didn’t believe my mother was innocent or ready to help people out of the goodness of her heart, but I recognized the situation for what it was. “How long have you and Otto been partners?”
Mom shrugged, noncommittal. “I came to the house to discuss things with him last evening. The conversation lasted longer than I expected. He remembered me from when we moved into the neighborhood. We were newlyweds then, and he thought us to be perverts, but he realized pretty quickly that I was not the same person I’d been.”
I read between the lines. Otto wanted to eat Mom because he thought she was a reaper. When he found out she wasn’t – that she was something far, far worse – he had to adjust his plans. “How is he getting into my dreams?”
Mom seemed surprised by the question. “I didn’t realize he was. Is he talking to you in your dreams?”
“He’s using proxies to do it,” I replied. “He used my own reflection the first time, and yours last night.”
“I don’t know.” Mom slid a sidelong look in Otto’s direction. “Our communication is limited. I have to ask multiple questions and provide answers. Then he nods if I get it right. It’s rather … tedious.”
“It sounds tedious. It’s like the world’s most boring game of charades.”
Mom remained stoic, but I was almost certain her lips twitched. “Yes, well, I wasn’t aware of the dreams. Perhaps it’s a manifestation of the mirror jumping.”
“Yeah, how does he do that?”
“He chose to be a creature that straddles two planes of existence,” Mom explained. “He’s stronger in the mirror world, weaker in this one. He grows weaker every day because he hasn’t fed. Dreams are a representation of the day’s events, almost a reflection turned around and interpreted in different ways. Perhaps that’s how he does it.”
“And this house?” I glanced around the room. “What’s the deal with the really long hallway and hidden room?”
“Otto watches a lot of movies,” Mom explained. “The bills are paid over the
Internet. He invested wisely back in the day, so … .”
“But how could no one have realized he wasn’t living here as a human?”
“Perhaps no one cared, as you said,” Mom suggested. “Perhaps Otto was a victim of his own determination to cut himself off from the rest of the world. People only look for signs of the living when they’re aware of their existence. Otto went a long time pretending he was dead, so it was something of a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
“That sounds a bit … weak.”
Mom smirked. “I can’t answer the ques
tions you ask, mostly because Otto can’t answer them. I can only interpret certain actions.”
“And that brings us to now,” I noted. “What happens next?”
Otto strode in my direction, as if to answer. He used his lone hand to grab my shoulder and squeeze. He bobbed his chin in Mom’s direction, causing her to frown.
“No, Otto,” Mom said, vehemently shaking her head as she slapped at his hand. “You can’t take her. She won’t be enough. She’s injured. I told you that. That makes her weaker.”
I narrowed my eyes. I couldn’t decide if Mom was trying to save me or her.
“You have to grab one of the boys,” Mom added. “They’re stronger.”
“Hey!” My temper got the better of me and I lashed out with my foot, missing Mom and catching Angelina on the knee.
“That hurts!” Angelina shrieked, sliding away from me. “I’ll rip your hair out if you’re not careful.”
“Shut your hole,” I barked. “No one is listening to you. You shouldn’t even be here.”
“Your mother is the reason I’m here,” Angelina shot back. “She said she wanted to see the house because she was interested in buying it. I’ve been stuck here ever since.”
“Oh, well … .” She had a point. “You’ll live.”
“That dude doesn’t have a face,” Angelina hissed, leaning closer. “He wants to kill us. We’re not going to live.”
“We are going to live,” I countered. “Trust me.”
“I don’t trust you. You’re … you.”
She wasn’t wrong. “That doesn’t mean we won’t survive,” I argued. “Just … chill out.”
“He doesn’t have a face!”
“And you have a personality like my ass,” I tossed back. “Just … shut your stupid, sniveling hole.”
“Yes, Angelina, please shut your hole.” Mom wearily pinched the bridge of her nose. “Otto needs a full jolt to survive. He’s wounded. Ever since you cut off his hand in the game room he’s been waning … and fast. He managed to regenerate a bit, but it’s been slow. Now that the new hand is gone again … .”
Grim Holiday (Aisling Grimlock Book 6) Page 29
