Light the Shadows (A Grimm Novel) (13 page)

Nancy took a deep, calming breath then met Micah’s gaze. “You are so different since the accident, almost like a whole different person. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”

Micah simply stared back at her, sensing she needed to say this.

“I’m trying to be patient, trying to understand what’s happening. Just know that if you need anything at all, I’m here for you, sweetheart.”

Nancy bounced down the steps then turned to look at Micah once more. “Oh and don’t forget, Roger and I are having an anniversary dinner Sunday. It’s nothing big, just a barbecue.”

“I’ll be there.” Micah tried to look inconspicuous as she looked for Sully, but he and his motorcycle were long gone.

Nancy winked. “You can bring your friend if you’d like. I’m sure Roger would like to meet him.”

Micah smiled awkwardly. Oh yeah, she could just see her fake dad giving “the talk” to her fake boyfriend.

Chapter Nine

Sully stared out across the city lights and frowned. Each time he had a clue that might direct him to Thomas'
s whereabouts, it fell through.

Tonight's attempt at locating him had been a huge waste of time. He followed a lead to a rowdy dive bar where the bartender said a man fitting his friend’s description had come in a couple nights ago.
Thomas had arrived alone and ordered a beer, but hadn't stayed long enough to drink it. The bartender said Thomas had seemed nervous and kept looking at the door like he expected someone to bust through at any moment. The guy had laughed and said the way Thomas was acting, he thought maybe he’d slept with one of the biker's girlfriends and expected to get his ass kicked.

Sully went back to his friend’s apartment, certain he'd missed some clue that would reveal where Thomas had gone. He tore through Thomas'
s belongings and the paperwork in the study, but found nothing. Not even the tiniest hint.

"Where the hell are you?" His murmured words were carried away on the warm night breeze. He leaned against the balcony, nursing a beer
, and watched as one by one the neighboring lights went off.

A while later, Sully found himself in Thomas’
s study again. Not only was his best friend’s disappearance eating away at him, but something else as well. What Micah had done with her hands, the white light that had emanated from them and had driven the shadows away, intrigued him. He’d witnessed Thomas do it as well, but not on such a large scale.

Sully stood in front of the bookshelf in search of a particular book. He’d seen something earlier, a picture of a man kneeling and holding his hands out. In the drawing, several ghost-like figures appeared frightened by the rays of light coming from his open palms. At the time, Sully had been on a mission and of a one track mind. Now as he scooted the books around with the toe of his boot and pawed through the ones on the desk, he cursed his stupidity.

Pulling a cracked leather-bound journal from beneath the desk, he laid it on the smooth surface. A Grimm, he read, oftentimes worked closely with Reapers. Grimms were the ones charged with getting rid of shadows either by talking them into crossing over or by using force. They could combat the misguided spirits and their persuasion with the white light that came from within them. Grimms were a special few who were handpicked by Azrael himself. The first Grimm had been documented around the sixteenth century.

Sully stopped on one of Thomas’s handwritten entries in the journal.

It is with great sadness that I report the reaping of a fellow Grimm. I am troubled not because he will be dead and gone, not because the beautiful white light will be snuffed. I am saddened because of the circumstances that led to his demise. This man, who once was a pillar of good faith and just judgment, has now fallen from Azrael’s grace. My mentor has grown sedentary and no longer seeks out those souls that have become lost. He no longer hears their cries for peace and rest. He refuses to do the work commissioned by Azrael. In being so pigheaded, he has bastardized the Grimm's reverence. Azrael is angry and demands retribution. He has sent a Reaper, a woman, no less, to put an end to this man. This Grimm Reaper claims it is an honor to serve the angel of death. I do not share the Reaper’s elation. This is a sad day for my brethren. Azrael has demanded the head of this Grimm. Will he not demand the same of others who do not do his bidding?

Thomas St. Clair, Winter 1587

Sully closed the old leather bound book and scooted it across the desk. So, Micah was a Grimm. Maybe. He slammed his fist against the wood, rattling the cup of pens and pencils atop it. Where the hell was Thomas? There was so much he wanted to ask him, so many answers left to learn.

And what of Micah? He’d come close to fucking her a few nights ago. Hell, he’d had his fingers buried deep inside her
, and she’d been oh so willing. The scent of her arousal and those tiny little moans haunted him. His cock twitched with the memory of nearly being inside her. Dropping his head in his hands, he wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

Sully knew it should never have gone that far. The problem was it had, and now Micah Munroe was an itch he couldn’t scratch. She had touched upon something he thought was dead and buried—something that should have stayed dead and buried. His heart. He’d gotten the hell out of there because he hadn’t wanted to get emotionally attached to this woman. If anything, his plan had backfired, filling his head with a million
what ifs
and the memory of her kiss.

Sully didn’t know how long he sat there with his head in his hands. The blast of a car horn outside the open balcony doors made him cringe. The frigid air that rolled across the room barely registered before he heard the whispers.

“Sully?” A female child whispered in a sing-song voice. "James Sullivan!"

He opened his eyes and sat up, glancing around. The vaguely familiar voice must belong to a shadow, but he hadn’t located it yet.

“Isn’t it frustrating when the truth is staring you right in the face, but you’re too blind to see it?” A girl of about twelve drifted out of the bookcase. Though she was mostly translucent, he could still see the gashes on her face and the bruising around her throat. The front of her frilly dress was stained black.

Sully scrambled up out of the chair.

Her dead doll-like eyes were trained solely on him. “Do you want to know the truth, Uncle Sully?”

He didn’t have time for these games. “Go away.”

The little girl giggled then disappeared. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived.

More voices spoke all at once. All calling him an imbecile and accusing him of being blind. The girl reappeared only a few feet from him. Her oversized grin was a bit alarming as he backed away from the desk.

“You won’t find your friend,” a tall, thin man whispered then ran at him. He disappeared just short of mowing Sully down. He reappeared on the other side of the room. “St. Clair is gone.”

“Forever,” the spirits said as one. Their laughter echoed throughout the room.

“What have you done to him?” Sully allowed the scythe to slip into his hand. His fingers curled around its smooth, wooden handle and infused him with a sense of calm despite the danger he was in.

The little girl’s gaze followed the movement. Her giggles were a high
-pitched sound that hurt his ears. “Are you not happy to see me, Uncle?”

A woman with a garish
chelsea smile dashed toward him. “You can’t protect the woman either. You’re useless. There’s nothing you can do.”

Wrong. He could get the hell out of there. And if he ever found Thomas, his friend was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

More shadows swarmed into the room and circled him, their haunting voices rising and falling. Their number made it difficult to discern a single word. Instead, the sound became a loud buzz that made the skin on the back of his neck prickle and his head ache.

“What do you want?” he asked as he continued to back away. The spiteful spirits had him penned. There was nowhere to go. They blocked the one doorway that led out
, and the only other choice was the balcony. Thomas’s apartment was on the second floor. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like hell for a few minutes. He cast a quick glance over a shoulder. Good, the door was still open.

The woman with the
chelsea smile surged forward. “More.”

“More?” He felt stupid just asking and judging by the way her brows dipped downward, she thought so
, too.

“More like us,” the little girl shouted as she appeared in front of him. Her fingers were hooked like claws. She slashed at him just as the smiling woman grabbed for him. Panicking just a little,
Sully slashed the air between them with the scythe. Both shadows dissipated, but he knew they’d be back.

The others roared at the indignity of it. Together, they rushed Sully, creating a wall of shadows that shut out everything beyond them. He began to feel the pull of their morose suggestions, the lull of their chilling desires. Slashing at them, his scythe did nothing to deter them. They parted then rushed him again. Sully scrambled backward just as they gave him a shove with their combined effort.

He toppled over the ledge of the balcony. His limbs felt weightless then suddenly too heavy. Just before he struck the concrete, a sickening realization hit him. He’d be at the mercy of whoever came along. Or worse, the ghoulish shadows, if they pursued him.

He hit the ground with a bone jarring thud that knocked the air from his lungs and cracked the concrete beneath him. Black dots swam across his vision
, and for a moment he feared he might lose consciousness. His entire body ached as he sucked in a much needed breath then allowed his gaze to flick toward the surrounding apartments. Most were dark at this late hour, and the ones that weren’t had curtains drawn. Luckily, he’d fallen next to the pool, which was in the courtyard and away from the street’s view.

Lying there as long as he dared, he allowed the worst pains to fade away. He wouldn’t die from the injuries. In fact, they’d heal in moments, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in pain. He might have lain there longer had the girl in the bloody dress not stared down at him from the balcony. There was a devious little smile on her face
, and he didn’t dare linger a moment longer. Instead, he limped past the pool gate and drove away on his motorcycle.

He was content to go home, nurse his wounded body and pride, but a troubling thought struck him as he sped down the deserted side roads. What did the shadows mean with their snarky remark about him being unable to protect the woman? Was Micah in danger? What did he care? She was nothing to him.

“Fuck!” He accelerated through an empty four-way and pushed the motorcycle to its limits. Within minutes, he was on the outskirts of town and rolling to a stop in front of Micah’s house. There were two sedans parked out front, and the lights were on despite the hour. For just a moment, he considered leaving.

The crunch of gravel whipped his head around
, and the scythe slid into his hand.

“You missed the party, sweetie,” someone said as they emerged from the darkness around the porch area. The freaky orange hue of the woman’s hair was like a beacon as she drew closer.

Sully cursed under his breath and allowed the scythe to return to its hidden place. The stench of cigarettes stung his senses as Karla gripped his arm and leaned against him.

"Party for what?" he asked.

"Micah's first sale since being back." Karla's gait was wobbly as she dragged him toward the small front porch. The smell of alcohol tainted her breath. “I don’t know why everyone’s making such a big deal out of it. It was just a shabby little ranch style over on Sunview.”

When he gave her a blank stare, she said, “There’s nothing fancy about it. It was only a hundred thousand, hardly a premier property.”

He tried to take his arm back without jerking it away, but Karla’s fingers were clamped down like an iron vise. She pulled him inside, and everyone turned to look at them. Micah’s eyes widened slightly, and then she glanced away. A fierce blush burned on her cheeks as she slid off the barstool and moved toward him.

“Would you excuse us a moment?” she asked her friends
, then grabbed his wrist. Her grip was not gentle.

“Who is that?” A guy who looked like a total douchebag in designer hipster clothes asked
the question. He didn’t seem very happy that Sully had stolen Micah’s attention. The dark haired woman at his side glared daggers at him.

“Man candy.” Karla practically purred as she slid onto Micah’s vacated stool.

Micah pushed Sully into the living room then glared up at him. “You have some nerve showing up here.”

This wasn’t at all what he expected. He’d hoped she would be home alone and he’d have time to think of something brilliant to say. Instead, he stared down at her, at a loss for words. She was pissed
. He could see it in her eyes and the way she held herself. And she was freaking gorgeous in the little black halter dress that hugged her every curve. It was short enough to give him a mouthwatering view of her luscious legs, but long enough to leave a little to the imagination. And he’d bet anything she was braless. His mouth watered at the temptation.