Light the Shadows (A Grimm Novel) (7 page)

“Ms. Munroe.”

Her eyes were large and wary as she took a step backward. Her hip bumped the secretary’s desk, knocking a cup of pens over. Several spilled and rolled across the desk. "You're my client?"

Sully smirked. "Yeah, I am."

The secretary rested her chin on a fist then stared up at them. She met his gaze and winked as though they shared some lurid secret. Again, she looked peeved when he ignored her flirtations.

He offered Micah an easy, practiced smile. "Let's have lunch, and I'll tell you what kind of house I'm looking for." And it would give him an opportunity to observe her and see if she's faking whatever was going on here. By all accounts, she was a dead woman. He'd seen to it himself.

She clutched the folders she'd brought with her. "Diane…"

"Diane Harmon has a reputation of only looking at dollar signs. She could care less about what I'm actually interested in. Are you the same kind of realtor?"

Micah looked stricken and a bit confused. "No, I …”

"Good." He offered a half smile, hoping to put her at ease.

The secretary bit back a bark of laughter then pretended to look at something on her computer screen. Every now and then, her gaze would slide in his direction then flick to Micah.

Seeming to regain some composure, Micah tore her gaze away from him. She turned and started back down the hallway toward her office. "Let me just grab a couple things."

Minutes later, they walked down the block to Sully's favorite delicatessen. Micah seemed wary of him, preferring to keep some space between them.

During lunch, he played the part of interested buyer while she showed him pictures of houses and talked about appraisal values, comparable sales and types of equity. She only stumbled a few times, but he barely noticed because he found himself fascinated by the shape of her mouth and the way she talked. Not only did she look different, but she sounded slightly different as well. This Micah spoke more confidently, her words no longer mumbled or mere whispers. She even made eye contact and smiled occasionally.

Of course, he didn’t have much to go on. Their first encounter had been very brief. He’d followed her to the art museum and bumped into her in front of an ugly abstract painting. As planned, she
had stumbled, and he grabbed her to prevent a nasty fall. She’d been so mortified that she muttered a quick thank you, ducked her head then shuffled away. She’d been wearing a ghastly lime green shift dress that hid her slender figure like an oversized pillowcase.

Two hours later, Micah’s stepfather
had found her floating unconscious in a swimming pool, with her brains bashed in. He’d pulled her out and performed CPR, but due to the combination of head trauma and drowning, she had never regained consciousness.

Sully checked with the hospital. Micah had died due to complications and a massive brain bleed. They’d hooked her to all sorts of machines, but there were no brain waves or signs of life. For all intents and purposes, the girl was gone. And now here she was, sitting across from him, healthy and alive. Aside from when she'd banged up his bike, she didn't seem to have any memory of him.

“So what do you think?” she asked, her pretty mismatched eyes searching his face.

He’d only been half listening, but had heard enough to formulate a plan. "I have another appointment this afternoon, but I'd be willing to take a look at the townhouse tomorrow.”

“It’s on a golf course.” She sounded a bit apologetic. "Do you play?"

"Not if I can help it. You?"

She started to answer then frowned. "I don't recall."

Then Sully did something so out of the ordinary, it shocked him. He reached across the table to trace a gentle fingertip across the edge of the faded bruise above her left eye. "Then it's settled. I'll meet you at the golf course tomorrow
, and we'll find out."

Micah shied away from his touch, the hint of a smile touching her lips. "I don't know, Mr. Sullivan."

"Call me Sully." He interrupted her rebuff.

Her cheeks tinted a rosy pink
, and he wondered just what had made her blush. Her pupils dilated, too. Interesting.

Sully glanced at his watch and sighed. He had to be across town in twenty minutes.

Micah walked just ahead of him, providing a tantalizing view of her perfect ass. Her shapely, tanned legs carried her with a confidence he hadn’t noticed before. The sway of her hips enticed him, and he wanted to grip them and drag her against him. Then he'd turn her to face him and savor the feel of her lips on his. Her mouth looked delicious, and he longed to find out how she tasted.

He nearly ran into her when she stopped outside the Harmon Real Estate building. He put his hand on the door, but didn't open it just yet. What the hell had gotten into him? This was new, uncharted territory. Sure, he'd been in lust with women before, but this was different somehow. Micah was a mark that had gotten away, someone he was investigating. He should not be thinking about kissing her.

She tilted her head and smiled up at him. "I'll meet you at the clubhouse tomorrow. Does two o‘clock sound good?”

"I'll pick you up," he said.

Micah glanced at his bike then shook her head. "No thanks. I'm not risking my life on that crotch rocket. I'll meet you there."

He crooked a brow. "I own a car
, too."

She looked at the door and his hand which still rested on the handle. Sensing their time together had drawn to a close, Sully opened the door for her. She offered one last smile before going inside. Through the glass, he saw the secretary nearly fall over herself in her haste to follow Micah down the hall and get the scoop.

Sully strode over to his motorcycle and pulled a bandana from the saddlebag. After he'd secured it around his head and put on his sunglasses, he swung a leg over the seat then started the engine. If he didn't haul ass, he'd be late to his next appointment. Marks never waited. They were constantly on the move. The man he sought was in the hospital. Not as a patient, but a visitor.

He parked close to the building then made his way to the ICU floor. The room was dark and quiet when he entered. The eerie green glow of the heart monitor was the only light in the room. Shit. The mark had already left. Sully would have to bust ass to catch him.

The frail old woman in the bed lifted her head and spoke in a soft murmur of Spanish. He patted her hand and whispered, "It’s not your time, Abuela."

She settled back onto the pillow, a slight smile on her face. This poor old gal probably thought Sully was the
good-for-nothing, gang-banger wannabe grandson he had come for.

Sully turned and hurried from the room. He started to take the elevator, but noticed that the stairwell door was slightly ajar. The hunter inside him quivered with anticipation. Juan Garza was probably medicating the pain of the inevitable. He was about to lose the woman who had raised him since he'd lost his parents to drugs. Little did Juan know, death would collect him before it claimed grandma.

Slipping into the stairwell, Sully moved silently toward the lower level. A pot-laced haze filled the corridor, but he had no problem seeing through the miasma. Below him, Juan lit another joint. His face glowed momentarily when he brought the lighter up to his face. By then, Sully had reached him.

"Fuck off
, man," Juan blew smoke into the air. "You don't want any trouble."

Sully stepped off the last stair. “I live for trouble, Juan.”

“Do I know you, pendejo?” The twenty-something snarled.

How Juan died was already decided
. Whether he had a few extra bruises when he reached the other side was another story.

Sully smirked, knowing there was no way the guy could know the danger he faced. If he had, he might have run screaming in the other direction. Instead, the idiot decided to use Sully's face as a punching bag.

Juan swung at him, but Sully stopped him by gripping his fist. That one touch was all he needed. Power surged through him then coursed through Juan.

“Ay Dios
mio!” The young man’s eyes widened, and he tore his hand out of Sully’s grasp. He attempted to throw another punch.

Sully grew impatient and thrust Juan against the brick wall
. The kid's head bounced, and his teeth clacked together. It would be easy to lose his temper, beat this little punk to a pulp, but what difference would it make? Juan was destined to become worm food anyway.

Instead, Sully allowed the kid to slide to the grimy concrete floor. Juan must have recognized something in Sully’s eyes, acknowledged the menace, because he scrambled to his feet then took the stairs two at a time.

Sully followed Juan to the men's room on the second floor and found him hiding out in the last stall. His tennis shoes were unmistakable and so was the sound of him snorting a handful of crushed pills he’d lifted from the medicine cart.

Leaning against the sink, Sully waited. Once Juan’s heart stopped beating, a shepherd would be waiting on the other side.

It took several minutes before Juan’s body slumped in the stall. His legs relaxed, and his head hit the wall. A few seconds more and he was gone. Of course he hadn’t meant to overdose, but that was just the thing with drugs. Shit happened.

Sully peered into the stall then made a sound of disgust. Juan had vomited all over himself. It covered the front of his shirt and jacket as well as the sleeve his head rested on.

The kid’s soul lifted from the body, and he staggered out of the tiny space. His young face was confused and scared. His dark eyes looked to Sully for explanation.

A door winked into existence behind Sully, between the row of sinks and urinals. He pointed at it. “This is your doorway, kid. You have to open it.”

“What happened to me?” Juan cried, babbled really. He had discovered his own body sitting on the toilet, covered in vomit and medicinal dust.

“I think it’s fairly obvious. You overdosed. It’s time to cross on to the other side.”  Sully ushered him closer to the awaiting doorway. “Open the door.”

Juan wiped his nose on a dirty sleeve and sniffled. “What if I’m not ready?”

“You’re dead, Juan. Ready or not, it’s time.” Being soft and cuddly, coddling these unfortunate bastards had never been his strong point. He was more of a get down to business kind of guy.
You died, asshole. Open the door, and we’re done.

The young man reached for the knob then hesitated. He cast a doubtful glance at Sully
, who had moved closer.

“Go through that doorway
, and everything will be okay. Someone is waiting on the other side to take you where you need to go.” Sully moved toward him, and Juan pulled the door open painfully slowly. “Your mom and dad are probably there.” He didn’t know that for sure, but he’d certainly tell the kid that if it hurried this along. Besides, if Juan chickened out and didn’t go, he’d become a shadow.

Shadows were what became of people who didn’t cross over, ghosts and vengeful spirits. Sometimes people who died a violent death or who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time became shadows. They weren’t meant to die
, and no one was there to help them move on to the other side. They were the ones who slipped through the cracks, and they suffered for it. The longer one of these unfortunates hung around, the worse it became.

Juan’s trembling fingers gripped the doorframe. His face relaxed as he stepped into the bright white corridor beyond. Anna’s cheerful voice greeted him.

Thinking fast, Sully grabbed the door before it swung shut and slipped inside. He knew it was against the rules for a Reaper to cross over. It made the shepherds nervous, but he didn't care. He'd never been one for following all the rules anyway.

He followed Anna and Juan down the stark white hallway, quiet as a ghost. Moments after the teenager delivered Juan to wherever the door at the end of the corridor led, she returned to the sterile waiting area. As she walked past, Sully gripped her shoulder and hauled her toward him.

Anna’s head turned finger-snap quick. “Reaper!”

“Shepherd.”

“You aren’t supposed to be here. Reapers are not allowed on this side,” Anna said in an urgent whisper. Her hazel eyes darted this way and that, searching for help.

Sully pulled her through the closest doorway as it opened and another soul passed them. To his surprise, they spilled out into a hospital elevator.

She kicked him in the shin then scurried up to press herself into the corner. Her eyes were large and round as she wrapped her arms around her middle. Anna’s bottom lip protruded in an unbecoming pout.

“Relax, kid, it’s not like I can kill you.” He let the words hang between them, letting her think he might if it were possible. When she finally looked at him, he said, “You’re already dead.”

Anna’s image flickered. "You ought to know."

He cocked a brow and smiled menacingly. “If you disappear, I’ll hunt you down.”

The teenager dropped her gaze to the floor. “What do you want from me?”

“Tell me about Micah Munroe.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Her gaze darted away from his, indicating she knew more than she was willing to tell.