Grim Offerings (Aisling Grimlock Book 2) (13 page)

“Come on.”

Redmond held open the door to Tea & Tarot and waited.

“She’s going to be mean to me,” I said, pushing a faux pout on my face as I regarded my eldest brother. My brothers don’t often fall for my emotional manipulation, but Redmond is the one who gives in easiest.

“She’s not going to be mean to you.”

“She is.”

“She’s not.”

“She is.”

Redmond growled. “Get your behind in this store!”

I made an exasperated sound in the back of my throat and strode through the door, stopping long enough to fix Redmond with a pathetic look. “You’re the meanest man I know.”

Redmond flicked the end of my nose. “I give in to you most of the time because I can’t tell you ‘no,’” he said. “But we need information. Cillian almost dying trumps you feeling uncomfortable.”

“Fine.”

Redmond pushed me the rest of the way across the threshold. Because the door had been open so long we’d drawn the attention of the proprietress. Madame Maxine floated from behind the counter, her floor-length skirt billowing as she crossed the room.

“Redmond Grimlock,” she said, giving him a big hug. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s only been a month and a half,” he said.

“That’s still too long,” Maxine said. She turned her attention to me. “Hello, sourpuss.”

I scowled. “Madame Maxine.”

“You look … pouty.”

“I’m not pouty.”

“You look pouty.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“You look it.”

Redmond clamped his hand on my shoulder. “We’ve had a long day,” he said, glancing around the shop. Thankfully, it was empty. “Cillian was attacked by a wraith in Detroit this afternoon.”

Maxine’s face turned serious. “Is he all right?”

“Aisling got to him before the wraith could kill him,” Redmond said.

“Did it run?”

“Aisling killed it.”

Maxine gave me an appraising look. Her overlong hair was tucked in a messy bun, strands of gray shining under the overhead lights. “How did you kill it?”

“I beat it to death with a brick.”

Maxine was impressed. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“She’s being mean!”

“She’s not being mean,” Redmond said, exasperated.

“You’re too sensitive,” Maxine said. “That’s always been your problem.”

“Oh, are you going to tell me I’m going down the wrong path again? Isn’t that your shtick?” Maxine had told me on two different occasions that I was due for a world of hurt before finding happiness. I hated her for it.

“No, you’re done going down the wrong path,” Maxine said, moving over to her tarot table. “You’ll still make some missteps, but that’s life.”

I faltered. “What?”

“You’re on the right track now.”

“See, Ais, you were worrying for nothing,” Redmond chided. “I told you.”

“Oh, shut up,” I grumbled.

“You were on the wrong path when you were trying to separate yourself from your destiny,” Maxine said. “That’s not a problem anymore. It will take time, but you will find yourself.”

“Well, great.”

Redmond shot me an admonishing look. “We need to know what you’ve heard about wraiths in the area.”

“Not a lot,” Maxine admitted. “Some people have claimed to see them, but no one has seen them in groups like before. The sightings have been sporadic. I thought that meant things were back to normal.”

“We can’t be sure, but we think there has to be more than one in the area,” Redmond said. He recounted the past few days for Maxine while I watched nervously.

While he told the story, Maxine shuffled the tarot cards. When Redmond finished the story, she handed the cards to me. “Cut them.”

“No way,” I said. “I don’t want to hear anything bad.”

“Aisling,” Redmond growled.

“Cut them.”

I sighed, exasperated. I reached out and grabbed the deck, holding it close to my chest to hide my actions from Maxine before handing the cards back. Maxine flipped the first card up and studied it.

“What do you see?” Redmond asked.

Maxine ignored him as she continued to flip cards. When she had them assembled to her liking, she finally turned her attention back to us. “Things are shifting.”

“Well, great,” I muttered.

“You have more than one enemy,” she said. “One you know. One you will … struggle with.”

“What does that mean?” Redmond asked.

Maxine shrugged. “The future isn’t written, and what I’m seeing here is clouded. Things are going to be in … flux.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t know,” I said.

“I’m saying that your family is at a crossroads,” Maxine corrected. “Aisling is at the center of the crossroads.”

“Is she in danger?” Redmond asked, instantly alert as his gaze shifted to the front door.

“You’re all in danger,” Maxine said. “You’re also poised for greatness.”

“How do we fight our enemy?” Redmond asked.

“You have to wait for it to show itself,” Maxine replied. “When it does, decisions have to be made quickly.”

“What does that even mean?” I sputtered.

“You’re the one who will have to make the decisions,” Maxine said, fixating on me. “You’re the one who holds the key.”

“I can barely keep track of my car keys,” I said.

“Don’t second-guess yourself,” Maxine cautioned. “Your first instinct will be the right one.”

Well, I was done here. “I’m hungry,” I announced.

Redmond shot me a chastising look. “When?”

“Not today. Not tomorrow. Soon, though.”

“So, I have time for dinner?” I knew I was being petulant. I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

Maxine’s expression wasn’t dark, as I expected. The sympathy washing over her face was almost enough to bring me to my knees.

“You’re going to be all right,” she said after a moment. “You’re stronger than they give you credit for. When the time comes, that’s what you need to remember. Push everything else out of your mind.”

“I’M
never going back there again!”

I slammed the front door of the townhouse for dramatic emphasis as I made my grand entrance, expecting the three occupants to fawn over me. I was disappointed.

Griffin glanced up from the chair at the edge of the living room. “Hello, dear.”

“What happened?” Aidan asked.

“She was a pain in the ass, as I predicted,” I said. “Oh, wait, maybe I’m a psychic now.”

“Get some dinner,” Jerry instructed. “We’ve been keeping it warm in the oven.”

I pulled up short. “Have you guys already eaten?”

“You know I have blood-sugar issues,” Jerry whined.

“I was hungry,” Aidan said, nonplussed.

I shifted my gaze to Griffin.

“I waited for you,” he said.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” I said, channeling my father.

After shoveling an obscene amount of food into my mouth – and then cleaning up the mess I’d made under Jerry’s watchful eye – Griffin and I returned to the living room.

“What are you guys watching?”

“
Sports Center
,” Jerry said, making a face. “It’s not very entertaining. No one is singing and no one is making snarky comments.”

“I asked for five minutes to check scores,” Aidan said, scowling. “I didn’t ask you to watch any actual games.”

“I don’t want to watch ESPN,” I said. “Put something else on.”

“I have the remote,” Aidan challenged. “I get to choose.”

Griffin sighed. “Are you two going to fight again? I thought you’d made up.”

“What made you think that?” I asked.

“He was sitting next to you and trying to make you feel better at the hospital,” Griffin replied.

“That’s family, not forgiveness,” I said. “Not that I’ve done anything that I need to be forgiven for.” My eyes were slits as I focused on Aidan.

“Do you know what we should do?” Jerry jumped to his feet and clapped his hands to garner everyone’s attention.

We all waited.

“Let’s play Monopoly.”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I told you I would never play that game with you again.”

“I have to agree with Aisling,” Aidan said. “You can’t be trusted to play Monopoly.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Griffin said, blasé. “Why can’t Jerry play Monopoly?”

“Because he’s a poor loser,” I said. “When someone beats him, he throws the board in the air and pitches a fit.”

“I do not!”

“You’re both addicted to the game and horrible when you play it,” Aidan said.

“I’m wounded,” Jerry said, clutching his heart. “I am as delightful in defeat as I am magnanimous in victory.”

“You usually dance around the room calling yourself ‘the king of the world’ when you win,” I reminded him.

“I do that when I watch
Titanic
,” Jerry countered.

“You do it when you play Monopoly, too,” I said.

“That is a vicious prevarication!”

Griffin sighed. “Do you have any other games?”

Jerry thought it over. “Risk.”

“No,” Aidan said, shaking his head vehemently. “We’ll be picking up those little plastics pieces for weeks if we play that.”

“Jerry can’t lose at Risk either?” Griffin was confused.

“No, Aisling can’t lose when we play Risk,” Aidan explained.

Griffin looked to Jerry for explanation.

“She needs to dominate the world,” Jerry said.

“I do not!”

“Don’t you have Trivial Pursuit or something?” Griffin asked, rubbing his forehead. “We can separate into teams and it has fewer pieces.”

I arched a challenging eyebrow in Jerry’s direction. We’re all poor losers when it comes to Trivial Pursuit.

“That’s a great idea,” he said. “A great idea.”

“ANDRE AGASSI.”

I lifted my eyes to Jerry, who had the card pressed to his chest, and waited. Our final question came from the sports category, so I’d deferred to Griffin. Jerry always picked sports questions when it came time for the win, mostly because he was convinced no one knew the answers. He didn’t get that people had different knowledge bases.

Jerry groaned. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Sonovabitch.” Aidan grabbed the edge of the board and tossed it into the air. He’d never been a good loser, but something about this game had driven him over the edge. He’d argued vociferously when Jerry insisted on asking a sports question when we’d finally landed in the center of the board. He knew sports was Griffin’s strength, and he didn’t want Griffin to be the one to answer the final question.

If it had been an entertainment question, and I’d supplied the final answer, Aidan would have pouted but retained his dignity. Griffin being the hero tipped him over the edge.

Colored plastic pie wedges flew around the living room.

“Oh, really?” I shot Aidan an exasperated look.

Griffin hadn’t moved. He didn’t even flinch when one of the pie containers – the blue one we’d been using – hit him in the cheek.

“We won,” I said, fixing Aidan with a smug look.

“You cheated,” Aidan hissed.

“How?”

“You … just did.”

“Oh, it’s going to take me hours to find all of those little wedges,” Jerry complained.

“I’m going to bed,” Griffin said, refusing to engage in our drama. He got to his feet. “He who throws the board picks up the pieces.” He held his hand out to me. It was a direct challenge, and the look on Aidan’s face gave me pause. He didn’t just look angry, he looked hurt.

“You cheated,” Aidan challenged.

“I’m not doing this with you,” Griffin said. “It’s … ridiculous.”

“No one watches tennis,” Aidan shot back.

“I happen to love tennis,” Griffin said. “It’s my favorite sport.”

“Oh, come on! Tennis isn’t anyone’s favorite sport.” Aidan was beside himself.

One look told me he was beyond reason tonight. I slipped my hand into Griffin’s and let him lead me to the bedroom. I stopped long enough to lower my mouth close enough to Aidan’s ear so only he could hear my parting shot: “I love you,” I said. “You’re just … breaking me. Please stop.”

I couldn’t see Aidan’s face, but the slump of his shoulders told me my words had hit home.

We needed to talk … and soon.

“Aren’t you going to carry me?”

Cillian was obviously feeling better. When Dad and I arrived the following morning to transport him back to Grimlock Manor he was nothing short of … sparkling. Of course, I had a feeling he was playing things up for someone else’s benefit.

“Does your father often carry you?” Maya asked, smiling fondly at Cillian.

According to Braden’s report, Maya had drummed him out before midnight, insisting Cillian needed a good night’s sleep. Apparently, she’d checked in on my handsome brother no less than five times during the night. Something told me Griffin wasn’t going to like this development.

“When Aisling was hurt, he wanted to carry her,” Cillian pointed out.

“That’s because I’m his favorite,” I said, teasing.

“Not this week, you’re not,” Dad said, elbowing me out of the way so he could examine Cillian up close. “You look better.”

“I look great,” Cillian said, winking at Maya. “I always look great, by the way.”

“You’re definitely my hottest brother,” I agreed.

Cillian pursed his lips. “I notice you’re only saying that when the rest of our siblings happen to be absent. It would mean more if you said it in front of them.”

“You’ve got it,” I said.

Cillian grabbed my chin and tipped my head so he could stare into my eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Something is wrong with you,” he said. “Did you have a fight with Griffin?”

Maya furrowed her brow. “Did my brother upset you?”

“Griffin is fine,” I said, jerking my chin away from Cillian’s grasp. “He’s been great. In fact, we teamed up and beat Jerry and Aidan in a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit last night.”

Cillian smirked. “Did Jerry throw the board?”

“He only does that when we’re playing Monopoly.”

“I thought he did it when you played Risk,” Dad said. “I seem to remember picking up those little plastic pieces for days after that board went flying.”

“That was Aisling,” Cillian said. “Once she lost Africa, it was all over.”

“I did that once,” I protested. “You people just won’t let me forget it.”

“We’re all poor losers,” Cillian explained to Maya.

“Aidan was the poor loser last night,” I said. “It started when we finally landed in the center circle and Jerry insisted on asking a sports question.”

“Aren’t the sports questions easiest?” Maya asked.

Cillian snickered. “Jerry thinks because he doesn’t care about sports that no one does.”

“Well, Griffin loves sports,” Maya said. “Did he answer the question?”

“He did,” I said. “Then Aidan threw the board and accused him of cheating because it was a question about tennis.”

“Oh, Griffin loves tennis,” Maya said. “His dream is to be able to actually see a Wimbledon match some day.”

That was interesting. I filed that tidbit away for future mulling. “Well, he got the question right and Aidan freaked.”

“That doesn’t sound like Aidan,” Dad said. “He’s usually a good sport.”

“He’s been a pain for days,” I said. “It started the day we thought Griffin was cheating on me with Maya.”

Dad scowled. “I need to have a talk with that boy.”

“He wasn’t cheating on me,” I said. “I overreacted.”

“Oh, you would never overreact,” Cillian teased, tugging my hair. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Don’t push me,” I warned. “I’m only willing to play nursemaid for so long. Eventually, I’m going to go back to beating the crap out of you every chance I get.”

“You’re so loving,” Cillian said, his eyes far away and wistful. “You make me want to cry.”

I bumped my forehead against his softly. “Are you ready to go home?”

“I’m not sure,” Cillian said. “I think I might need to stay here another night.”

Was he serious? Because his eyes were locked on Maya I had a feeling he was flirting more than anything else. “I am not going to give you a sponge bath,” I warned.

“Well, thank you for that nightmare,” Cillian said, flicking my ear. “What are you going to do for me?”

“Anything you want,” Dad said.

“Within reason,” I cautioned.

“Are you going to bring me breakfast in bed?”

“Really? Are you saying you’re too sick to sit at the table?”

“Hey, you spent an entire day in bed after you got hurt,” Cillian reminded me.

“I was thrown through a plate-glass window,” I countered.

Maya’s forehead wrinkled. “You got thrown through a window?”

Crap. I’d forgotten we had an audience. “I have a really bad attitude,” I said.

“She does,” Cillian agreed.

“But … .”

“We should get going,” Dad said.

“Well, it was really nice to meet you,” Maya said, patting Cillian’s hand. She seemed reluctant to see him go.

“I might need a private nurse,” Cillian said. “Do you moonlight?”

Dad finally focused on the scene in front of him, realization dawning. “Oh,” he muttered.

“You’re quick on the uptake, Pa.”

He shot me a look. “Do you think you need a home nurse, son?” Dad asked, his tone serious. He was trying to help.

“Yes,” Cillian said. “Only if it’s Maya, though.”

“I already work here sixty hours a week,” Maya replied, laughing.

“Oh.” Cillian was disappointed.

“You two are pathetic,” I said. “Instead of trying to trick her into the house why don’t you just invite her for dinner?”

Cillian’s face brightened at the prospect. “Hey, that’s a good idea,” he said. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Why do you people keep saying that?”

“That is a good idea,” Dad said. “Would you like to join us for dinner tonight? We’re planning a big feast. It will feature all of Cillian’s favorites.”

“And what are his favorites?” Maya asked, her eyes twinkling.

“I think it’s nurses,” I said, my tone dry.

“We’re having a nice prime rib, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, red velvet cake and a lobster bisque,” Dad said.

“Wow,” Maya said, impressed. “Do you always eat like that?”

“And since when are you so up on the menu?” I asked. “Aren’t you the guy who said, ‘It’s food, shut up and eat it?’”

“Since I wanted to make sure everything was perfect for your brother,” Dad said.

“I don’t want red velvet cake,” I said. “Can’t we have chocolate?”

Dad fixed me with a hard look. “Did you almost die?”

“No.”

“Next time you almost die, you can pick the dessert.”

“You’re so mean to me,” I grumbled.

“I’ll ask the cook to make you cupcakes,” Cillian said.

“You’re sweet,” Maya said.

“That’s just the type of brother I am.”

My eyes rolled so hard I almost tipped over. “You used to wrestle me down and rub my face in your armpit.”

“That’s also the type of brother I am,” Cillian conceded.

“Don’t worry. Griffin used to do that to me, too,” Maya said. “I think that’s a universal brother thing.”

“I think it’s a testosterone thing,” I said.

“We should be going,” Dad said. “Maya, you didn’t answer. Would you like to come to dinner tonight?”

The hope on Cillian’s face almost crushed me. He really seemed to like Maya. This was going to kill Griffin.

“I would love to,” Maya said. “May I walk you out?”

“Absolutely,” Cillian said, jumping to his feet.

“You have to go out in a wheelchair,” Maya said.

“I’m fine,” Cillian said, tapping his chest. “I’m young and virile.”

“You were unconscious for hours yesterday,” Maya countered.

Cillian tried again. “I’m fine today, though.”

“It’s hospital policy.”

Cillian sighed. “Fine. I’m only doing this because I don’t want you to get in trouble with your superiors,” he said.

“That’s just the kind of guy you are, right?”

“Right.”

“CAN
you climb into the Escalade yourself, or do you need me to lift you?”

Cillian stuck out his tongue.

We stood under the awning in front of the hospital waiting for Dad to pick us up.

“He should rest this afternoon,” Maya said. “Don’t let him do too much. I know he seems fine, but … .”

“Trust me. My father is going to shove him in his bed and make him stay there all day,” I said. “He picked you up a bunch of books, by the way.”

“What books?”

“Romances.”

Cillian pinched my arm.

“I don’t know,” I said, rubbing the tender spot ruefully. “A bunch of that science fiction stuff you like.”

“Those are classics.”

“Do you read a lot?” Maya asked, interested.

“I like to read,” Cillian said.

I took a step away so they could flirt. I scanned the parking lot for lack of anything better to do, and when my gaze fell on a familiar figure I swore under my breath.

“What is it?” Cillian asked, instantly alert. His ordeal the day before had made him hyper-vigilant, I realized.

“It’s nothing,” I said.

“Do you always swear like that when it’s nothing?” Maya asked.

“Fine, it’s something,” I conceded. “Something really trashy.”

“What?” Cillian peered around me. When he saw Angelina heading in our direction he frowned. “Why?”

“She wants to torture me,” I grumbled.

“I think she’s here for me,” Cillian said.

“Do you really want to argue about which one of us has the worst luck?”

Cillian sighed. “No.”

“I’ll get rid of her.” I stepped off the curb and put myself directly in Angelina’s path.

“She’s not going to kill her, right?” Maya sounded worried.

“Not unless losing one’s hair at the root is a legitimate cause of death,” Cillian said.

“Didn’t you read the sign?” I asked. “No skanks allowed.”

Angelina frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m donating my time in the children’s ward,” I deadpanned.

“As what, a clown on weekends?”

“Oh, funny,” I said. “You know tyrannical hell beasts are banned, right?”

“Shut up, Aisling,” Angelina snapped. “I’m here to see your brother.”

“He doesn’t want to see you,” I said.

“You don’t know that.” Angelina pasted a bright smile on her face as she regarded Cillian. “How are you?”

“I’m great,” Cillian replied, his face drawn. “I’d be even better if you left.”

Angelina’s face fell. “But … I came to see you.”

“Why?” Cillian asked. “Why would you possibly think I’d want to see you?”

“Oh, you’re not still mad about our misunderstanding, are you?”

“Misunderstanding?” Cillian’s voice jumped.

“I think she’s referring to when she slept with half of the football team even though she really loved you,” I said.

Cillian’s eyes were dark when they landed on me. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that was what I was supposed to be doing,” I said. “I’m sorry. I was in bitch mode. I’ll switch to supportive-sister mode now.” I mock saluted in his direction.

Cillian blew out a frustrated sigh.

“Why don’t you let me take you home?” Angelina suggested. “We could talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Cillian said.

“Because Aisling doesn’t want you to talk to me?”

“Because I have nothing to say to you,” Cillian countered. “We don’t have anything in common. We never had anything in common. I fooled myself into thinking you were a decent person despite all of the terrible things you did to Aisling and Jerry. I was an idiot.”

“But … I could make it up to you,” Angelina whined.

“I don’t want you to make it up to me,” Cillian said. “I don’t want you to do anything to me, or for me, or with me. I just don’t … want you.”

Angelina’s face crumbled. “But … .”

“Just go,” Cillian said.

Dad pulled his Escalade to the front of the hospital and climbed out, fixing Angelina with a hateful look as he moved past her. “What is she doing here?”

“Realizing she’s obsolete in Cillian’s life,” I said, smug.

Angelina whipped around. I saw her hand heading toward my face, but it was too late to duck. She slapped me. “This is your fault,” she hissed.

“Hey,” Dad snapped. “If you touch her again I’m going to forget that I don’t hit women.”

“And I’m going to help him,” Cillian warned.

“You had no problem with her slapping me last night,” Angelina protested.

“That was funny,” Dad said. “And you had it coming. No one invited you here, Angelina. No one wants you here. Find someone else to chase, and find someone else to torture.”