Grim Judgment

by Jennifer Reinfried

  The green swirls on the floor had blurred together as Isaac’s eyes slackened and lost focus, his mind on Emma. We were going to run away together. Just her and me. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Start when she got to your apartment, after you spoke with me.”

  “She was upset. She was so scared. She told me about what Alex did, that he kidnapped her, took her to an abandoned building.”

  “Yes, the mental hospital near the woods. That is where he killed Cassie.”

  Isaac nodded. His words came out almost robotically. “Alex tortured and killed Cassie. Marcus stayed behind to try to stop him. She got away. I told her to meet me, that...that I would protect her until Alex was dealt with in one way or another. Then I told her...” He paused and put his forehead in the palm of his hands, back hunched over. I should have told her how much I love her.

  Vance’s voice was impatient. “And then?”

  Isaac swallowed, and continued. “Alex burst in. Broke the door down. Almost killed me right there, but I shot him first. Laska...” His voice wavered. “He killed Emma’s dog. Attacked me, hurt Emma.” Isaac locked eyes with Vance. “It was like he never felt a thing. He’d been shot twice, but just kept coming. It was only after I knocked him out that he stopped.”

  The Russian frowned and stared into the middle distance over Isaac’s shoulder, as if there was something important he had just remembered. Instead of speaking, he gestured with one hand for the story to continue.

  “I tried to get Emma out, but Nate attacked. Beat me.”

  Vance made a noise between a scoff and a snarl, but still said nothing.

  “Emma ran. Alex took me to the roof. I thought Emma was safe, but she came back, just like Alex predicted. She came back for me.” Isaac fell silent. He took notice of Wallace, who was wringing his hands and staring at Isaac’s gown where the blood spots had widened. “Fucker stabbed me to hurt her. Then Grim showed up. Alex shot him. Took his mask off.” Isaac snapped his eyes to his boss’ and sat up straight. “Sir, it was Shawn.”

  “Excuse me?” Vance sounded incredulous.

  “Shawn, the man Emma was working on. Jaxon was there, too. He was the one who killed Alex.”

  “This is incredible information that you have given me. Until now, we did not know who attacked you on the roof.” His eyes were wider than normal, his jaw set in a clench. “We can expose Grim, or, better yet, put a hit on both men.”

  “Shawn may be Grim, but Jaxon has a power I never imagined could exist.”

  “I assume you mean the fog?” Vance asked.

  “It wasn’t just that. There were forms in it, figures. Like phantoms, or ghosts. I don’t know.” Isaac shook his head, his mind on the grotesque images he’d witnessed. “He used them to kill Nate. They tore Alex to shreds, then held him out over the street. Shawn seemed to be trying to stop him. When he collapsed, Jaxon seemed to snap out of it. The figures disappeared, and when they did, Alex fell to his death.” Isaac couldn’t keep the satisfaction out of his voice.

  Vance and Wallace both simply looked at him, no doubt wondering if what they’d heard was even remotely possible.

  “Ghosts in the mist,” Vance muttered.

  “Jaxon said he was going to come after us if Shawn died. But Ivan, I completely believe he will do it either way. He’ll be out for revenge.” He felt adrenaline surge inside of him. “And that’s why we have to find Emma.”

  “I understand. Sit back, rest. I will do my best to track her down, but you cannot do anything for her until you’re healed, no?” Vance smiled.

  “Have Grant track her phone.”

  “She left it behind. She is smarter than that.”

  Isaac leaned back into his bed again. “We should have never fucked with those three.” The emptiness he felt at Emma’s disappearance hadn’t left him, and he knew he was going to spend countless nights awake, fearing for her life, until she was found.

  “They may have strange powers,” Vance said as he walked out of the room, “but we are not to be fucked with, either. They’ll come to learn this the hard way.”

  —-

  Shawn rested his head on the pillow again, suddenly exhausted. His thoughts wouldn’t stop going to Emma, the memory of her lips when he kissed them, her soft hair between his fingers, her body beneath his. He let out a small, pathetic noise. The women in his life had been few and far between, but despite only knowing her for a short while, he had felt intense emotions for her. Which is probably exactly what she wanted.

  Shawn’s upper lip curled. His mind flashed again, brought forth the memory of the night they’d spent gaming, how she had tasted when they’d kissed, her fingers in his hair. The pain he felt in his chest was slowly becoming a physical agony as the thoughts continued. He knew that if they’d had more time together there was no doubt he would have fallen for her, and to hear that it had all been a lie hurt more than the ragged holes punched through his flesh and muscle.

  “I can’t...” Shawn said, and bowed his head. Thoughts of Emma changed to his murdered friend. Knowing Cassie died among the enemy, tortured, terrified, brought a new wave of anguish upon him. Jaxon didn’t have anything to say, but the grief and misery he must have been feeling was thick in the air, and it settled over Shawn, adding to his own.

  Shawn heard Jaxon sit back in his chair.

  “I’m going to find those pieces of shit and make them pay for what they did to us. For Cassie. Julie.” His brother’s voice was rough around the edges with grief and despair. “For you.”

  “I want to go with you.” Shawn’s voice was low, anger bubbling up with pain and woe. As much as he had cared for her, if what Jaxon was saying was true, Emma was a criminal. And she was going to pay.

  Chapter Six

  THEN

  1982

  All I can think with the pistol pointed at my face is shit, shit, shit, shit, shit over and over again. Of course, of course, I never once stopped to think what could happen to me if the body I occupied was killed. I am such an idiot. I had set my alarm for an hour to see if that would be enough time for me to at least find something incriminating on Seth that I could use to blackmail him into submission, but never thought for a moment the dude was dumb enough to rob a liquor store in the middle of the day.

  “Drop the gun and get the fuck outta here,” the cashier’s voice growls.

  Seth’s heartbeat pounded in his chest, and his breaths came out fast but evenly. The clerk holding the gun to our head was old, grizzled, and pissed off, and you better believe he looked like the kind to squeeze that trigger. I watched as Seth glanced around the small, empty store, gloved hands in the air, right fingers clasped around his own gun. I noticed the view I was seeing was different this time, fuzzy around the edges. Must be wearing a mask. At least he’s not a complete idiot.

  “Move it. Now,” the old man said.

  “Okay, okay. Chill.” Seth lowered his weapon to the counter, next to a small, black duffle bag I hadn’t noticed in the chaos. When the clerk dropped his eyes and lifted his free hand to snatch it away, to my horror, Seth feinted to the right, whipped our arm up into the cashier’s, pulling his gun out of reach. The old man’s wrist snapped to the side, his pistol clattering to the floor, but that wasn’t what sent my own fear to a new height. I strained with all my might to pull myself out of the transfer as Seth leveled his gun at the old man, a wicked grin across our lips. I had to do something, I had to get out of his body before he killed the clerk, but no matter how hard I tried, I was stuck, fated to be a silent witness to this increasingly dangerous crime.

  “Now what?” I heard Seth say. “Gimme your damn money, asshole, or I’ll fuck you up.”

  “You piece of shit,” the old man said.

  “Now.” Seth wiggled his weapon. “Move!”

  The clerk barely took his eyes off of us as he opened the cash register.

  “In the bag!” We gestured at the counter.

  “Obviously, dumbass.”

  “Don
’t fucking talk back to me, unless you want your brains decoratin’ the store.”

  Regardless of his cold and angry exterior, fear collected in the clerk’s eyes as he stuffed small handfuls of cash into the open bag. He glanced around, no doubt hoping someone would come to his rescue, but the store remained empty. Seth continued to urge the man to hurry until the register was emptied of all the bills and coins. He even paused to scoop out what was in the ‘take a penny, leave a penny’ cup.

  We grabbed the straps of the bag and began to shuffle backward, weapon still trained on the clerk. In a moment of intellect I didn’t expect from Seth, we quickly grabbed the old man’s gun from the floor and then backed out of the store. Suddenly, my world was in a visual panic as we sprinted to an empty car waiting with the door open. We slid behind the wheel of the already running vehicle, threw one last glance at the entrance of the liquor store, and peeled out of the parking lot.

  We were on the far outskirts of Colorado Springs, which explained the absence of other people as Seth’s car flew down the streets. We yanked off the mask, the fabric scratching our skin, and tossed it at the bag that sat on the floor of the passenger side. His heart hadn’t slowed yet, and feeling it along with watching the scenery of a small town fling by kept me in a frenzy. The relief I’d experienced when I realized Seth was going to leave the clerk alive was indescribable, but that didn’t mean I was out of danger yet. The way we were driving, we could lose control around a curve, end up wrapped around a tree. Or the clerk could come after us with a bigger and scarier gun. My mind focused on all the terrifying ways Seth could get killed with me inside, and my paranoia screamed until we finally pulled into the driveway of his apartment complex.

  The clock on his dashboard blinked 12:00 so I had no idea how much time I had left in the transfer. We snatched the bag, threw the mask inside, and got out. We moved around the car and - another stroke of dumbass genius - peeled duct tape from the front and back license plates. The sticky back of one strip stuck to our gloves as we crumpled it into a ball, and we spent a moment attempting to get it off. It would have been comical if I hadn’t still been so damn terrified.

  We entered Seth’s apartment and flung the bag on his couch. After locking the front door - he didn’t even look around to see if he’d been followed - we mixed a drink, flopped onto the couch, and began to root through our spoils. The taste of cheap vodka flowed over our tongue as Seth took a large swallow. Our now gloveless hands rifled through the bills, straightening them as he counted. I had no interest in how much we’d gotten away with. I just wanted to get out. My panic had subsided, although I still felt wildly paranoid, and kept imagining every little sound I could hear was someone about to bust down Seth’s door.

  Finally, we stood and moved to a dingy wall where he kept his phone. We punched in a number, then listened as it rang once, twice, three times until Jessica’s voice filled our ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe.”

  A pause.

  “I miss you,” we said. “How’s the eye?”

  “Fine.”

  “Come on. I said I was sorry a million times. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Anger surged through me at Seth’s lie.

  “I know,” Jessica replied, which pissed me off more.

  “Let me take you out tonight and make it up to you, huh? A nice dinner and maybe a movie? I know you’ve been wanting to see that silly romance one.”

  “You’d go to that with me?”

  “‘Course I would. That’s what boyfriends do.”

  “I don’t know...” Her hesitation gave me hope.

  “I’ll pick you up at six, okay? Wear something nice.” Another pause. “Okay?” Seth repeated.

  “Yeah, okay,” she said, crushing my heart.

  “See ya then, gorgeous,” Seth said, and hung up.

  We moved into the bathroom where I got to watch him relieve himself. Mine’s bigger, I thought with stupid self-pride. Then we chugged the rest of his awful drink and made another. It was while we sat on the couch counting the money again that I snapped back into my body, which trembled slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was due to a side effect, the intense hour I’d just experienced, or the anger that coursed through me.

  Probably all three.

  —-

  The first thing I did once I was able to sit up again was make my way through the empty house to the phone that sat in a little recessed part of our living room wall. Intent on calling the cops, I had lifted the receiver to my ear and dialed the nine and the one, then hesitated. Thoughts of Jessica floated to the front of my mind. I had wanted a way to threaten Seth, right? I mean, my plan was to find something to use against him so I could say I’d to go to the cops if he hurt her again, so why not use the robbery?

  Let me say here that I promise, if anyone would have gotten hurt in the least, I wouldn’t have even thought to do anything other than punch in that final “one” and report the fucker to the authorities. However, I realized the events of that hour with Seth actually could be the perfect extortion. I replaced the receiver and stood in the living room, just thinking for a minute. No one had been injured or killed, and even though I hadn’t paid much attention when Seth was counting the cash, he couldn’t have gotten away with more than a few hundred bucks.

  Yeah, I know. I should have just called the cops. But I didn’t. Instead, I picked up the phone again and dialed the local library’s number instead. Before you wonder why I knew it, I’ll tell you it’s because I read a lot of classical and science fiction novels, and often called my friend who worked there for suggestions on what to read next. I’m not a nerd, though, okay? I go to concerts and work at a record store. I just like having something to do on my free time when I’m bored. Anyway, I asked the librarian to access their criss-cross directory, saying I had forgotten my cousin’s phone number. I recalled with clarity the complex Seth had taken me to, and remembered seeing not only his building number, but the one on his apartment door as well. After a few moments on hold, I had the jerk’s number written down in front of me.

  I dialed it, and the phone rang and rang. After the fourth, I started to worry he had already left, although a glance at the clock on the wall told me it wasn’t even close to six yet. Finally, I heard his tough-guy sounding voice on the other end of the line.

  “Yeah?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I stood there with my mouth open, silent, my nerves suddenly alight.

  “Who is this?” Seth prodded.

  “D-Doesn’t matter,” I said. I tried to sound brave and scary, but to this day I’m not sure I pulled it off.

  “Right, whatever.”

  “I saw you rob that store,” I blurted before he could hang up on me.

  It was his turn to be silent.

  “I saw you. You had a gun. You took the clerk’s, too, along with the money in the register.”

  “Oh yeah? Whaddaya gonna do about it?”

  “Nothing. Yet.”

  “The fuck does that mean?”

  I took a deep breath. “I won’t report you as long as you never lay a hand on Jessica again.”

  “Excuse me? That shit is my business. What has she been fuckin’ saying?” His voice grew louder, raspier, and I could just picture him standing with his free hand making a fist, his face red and bulging and ugly. His anger was giving me courage, probably because I knew he wasn’t aware of who I was, which meant I held all the power in this situation.

  “Hurt her ever again, and I’ll release a statement as a witness,” I said. “You’ll go to jail.”

  Silence.

  “Do you understand me, asshole?” I probably shouldn’t have said that.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I get you.” Seth’s voice was suddenly calmer, quieter. I had him.

  “Good. I’ll be watching you,” I said, then hung up. My hands began to shake as I stared at the phone. Oh man, oh man, oh man. I had done it. I had prevented him from hurting her any more than he already had. I fe
lt like I could fly, like I could soar up into the clouds. Instead, I went to my room and picked up a worn, well-loved, dog-eared copy of The Number of the Beast that I had borrowed from, you guessed it, the library. Time for some well-deserved relaxation.

  The next morning over a late breakfast my mom hit me with the news that “a girl that worked at that video store down the road” was at the hospital in critical condition.

  -—

  It took two agonizingly slow days before Jessica was stable enough to have visitors. I stared down at the handful of flowers I’d bought from the florist: seven of their best yellow lilies. At first, I thought it would cheer her up having a nice splash of color in her no doubt dismal room. Now, though, as I stared at them in the tawny light of the hospital elevator, they seemed drab, a small and pathetic offering after what Seth had done to her.

  Through others I had learned that she had a shattered nose, more than one of her orbital bones were broken, and three teeth were missing. She had countless contusions on her face, neck and arms, and along her torso where he had kicked her repeatedly, breaking multiple ribs. I had instantly delivered an anonymous tip about the robbery to the cops, who had gone to his apartment but found nothing. Oh, of course he had multiple alibis for his whereabouts during her attack as well as the robbery, too. The fucker was out walking the streets as Jessica struggled to live.

  The doors slid open with a ding and I stepped onto the fifth floor. Fluorescent lights that hospitals were fond of buzzed softly above my head as I made my way along the hallway to Jessica’s room. I was practicing what I was going to say to anyone in her room when my ears picked up on soft voices, and I slowed down and quieted my step.

  “I understand that,” a woman said. “But the hospital bills alone...” A frustrated sigh. “We also have to think about dental work to fix her teeth, and the physical therapy.”

  “I know, I know,” the voice of an older woman stated. “I’m so sorry. But we have to—”

  The two turned as I rounded the corner and came to a halt before them. We all stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment, then I opened my mouth.