Divine and Dateless (26 page)

I had no idea what compelled me to turn on the television that morning. Maybe it was morbid curiosity. Maybe it was guilt, but after avoiding that flat screen all week, I figured it was time. The funeral had to have been over. Maybe Mom had accepted my death and decided to go on with her life.

What I didn't expect to find was her lying on top of my gravesite in a sobbing heap of wet clothes and smeared makeup on a rainy Seattle morning.

"Oh, Mom." I cried, falling to my knees in front of the TV. "Please get up. Please go home."

But she couldn't hear me as she continued to weep while crushing a bouquet of flowers in her grip. I mourned with my mom all morning long, wishing I could somehow speak to her and tell her not to cry, that I was working my way to Heaven with my best buddy by my side.

After my fight last night with Grim, I thought I'd cried out all of my tears, but when I found my mom at that cemetery, I never wept so much in all my life.

I touched the television, stroking the curve of her muddied cheek, wishing she could sense me and know I was okay. I looked at Jack, who was howling by my side. I hadn't noticed his mournful whimper had grown louder.

"What is it, buddy?" I sniffled.

He ran to the front door and barked.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I'll take you out."

Though I felt like I'd been struck by a Mack truck, I heaved myself off the floor, slipped on a pair of my grandma's old sneakers, and grabbed the leash off the wall. I didn't even care that my hair was an uncombed, frizzy mess, or that I was still in my pajamas. Might as well look how I felt. Considering I'd seen a guy with a parking meter sticking out of his chest yesterday, I didn't think people would care what I was wearing.

As soon as I opened the door, I lost hold of the leash, and Jack took off.

“Jack!” I called as I ran into the hallway.

My traitorous dog didn’t get very far. He was busy lavishing kisses on Grim, who was kneeling beside my door, the heels I’d left at his apartment on the floor beside him.

My heart pounded like a gong in my ears when he looked up at me. I was struck by the memory of the tenderness in his eyes last night when we were making love. Such a sweet, yet powerful expression, as if he’d been waiting his whole dead life for that moment.

I leaned into him when he came over and tucked a stray piece of frizz behind my ear. “Came to check on you.” His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “Have you been crying?”

As he continued to caress my face, my throat tightened with emotion. Unable to answer, I looked away, fearing the waterworks would start pouring any minute.

I knew he'd come to apologize, but with so many conflicting emotions swirling through my head, I wasn't ready to deal with any more drama right now. Last night I'd alternated between crying over having lost Grim and fretting he might try to work things out. Honestly, though I was definitely attracted to Grim, I still wasn't sure it would work out between us. I knew I’d picked a bad time for the realization to hit. Things would have been a lot less complicated had I figured this out before I slept with him.

“I can’t talk.” I tried to push past him, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. "Jack has to go for a walk,” I said through a huff.

But when I whistled for him, my traitorous dog ran back inside. Ugh. So much for him being there in my time of need. As Grim looked at me with that wry smile, I swear he and my dog were in cahoots.

“Jack. Where are you going?" I jangled the leash in my hand as I went back inside.

Grim didn't wait for an invitation as he followed me and shut the door.

I turned to Grim. "I don’t understand. He was crying at the door.” Could he have been crying because he’d known Grim was outside? Did he like Grim so much he'd beg me to invite him in? My mom had always told me Jack had good instincts. Maybe I should trust in my dog, since I obviously couldn't make up my mind to save my life.

“Maybe he knew I’ve been standing outside for the past ten minutes trying to figure out the best way to apologize.”

My jaw went slack. I had no idea why his apology bothered me, but it did. I cocked a hand on my hip and glared. “Why do you do this to me?”

“Do what?”

“Act like a jerk and then turn around and show your sweet side. It’s really confusing.” I brushed past him and plopped on the sofa. Mom was still on my TV. Other than a few sniffles, her sobs had ebbed some, and she lay on top of my gravesite, nearly as still as the “Beloved daughter” headstone.

Grim sat beside me, taking my hands in his. They were warm and calloused. Odd, because last night when he caressed me, they’d felt as soft as silk.

“Ash, I’m sorry I upset you." His voice was gruffer than usual, his face reddening as he spoke. "I won’t ask you to get rid of Jack again. Okay? I promise.”

Though I wanted to deny the truth, I knew in my heart he wanted what was best for Jack. But Jack had waited on me for a reason, and I wasn't ready to give up my best friend yet.

“I don’t know." I shook my head. It was really hard focusing on my shaky relationship while watching my mom suffer. "I’m really confused.”

"If time is what you need, I'll give it to you." Grim released my hands and slowly stood. "Just know I'm here for you."

Again, I felt my throat tighten at the pain I saw in his eyes. Great. How had the best night of my life morphed into the worst morning ever? Though I was unsure of what would happen once the dust settled, one thing I knew was that I cared for Grim, and it hurt me to hurt him. Not to mention, Inés was going to kill me when she found out I'd broken his heart. I cringed as I thought of the many ways she'd get her revenge. Why did I think a blow-dryer would be involved?

Jack's frantic barking drew my gaze to the TV. Mom was still soaking up rain water. One side of me hoped she wouldn't catch pneumonia and die, but the selfish (and much more dominant side) hoped she would. I knew a saint like her would shoot straight to the top.

Grim knelt beside Jack, patting the back of his head. "What is it boy?" He followed Jack's gaze to the television. "Who is that?"

"My mom," I sniffled, fearing I'd unleash a whole new set of waterworks if he asked any more about her.

"Not her. Him." He pointed to a shadowy figure lurking just beyond my headstone.

"I don't know." I rose on shaky legs. My heartbeat began to quicken as a man in a hooded jacket approached my mom. Though I couldn't make out his features, the way he moved like a cat on the prowl told me he was up to no good.

When I saw the shiny silver blade emerge from his coat pocket, panic sent my heart into overdrive. Instinct took over, and I lunged at the television, slapping my hands against the screen. "Mom! Look out!"

And then something totally unexpected happened. She jerked up and looked straight at me, as if she could see me through the screen.

"Ash?" She gasped, hands flying to her face.

The hooded dude dropped his knife, screamed, and took off like a bolt of lightning.

I gaped at her as her eyes watered with fresh tears. She reached out, swatting the air as if she was trying to touch me.

"Oh, baby," she cried, "is that you?"

I drew back as the screen flashed red and then bright white. A blaring alarm that reminded me of a fog-horn sounded from the speakers, and I had to shield my ears against it.

Jack howled as a message flashed across the screen. "Ashley MacLeod, stay in your apartment. The Supernatural Intervention Agency will be with you shortly."

Fear iced over my limbs as I numbly turned to Grim. "What just happened?"

The color had drained from his face, and he gaped at me with a wide-eyed expression. "What the blazes? You ghosted!"

The Supernatural Intervention Agency had a really fancy limousine. We got to ride in it for my “interview.” Apparently, ghosting was some sort of big deal. I was a nervous wreck the whole way, though Jack was as happy as a clam. He got to ride with his head out the window while his wagging tail smacked my head.

Grim's face had been draped in the same scowl since we were ushered out of my apartment. He hadn't been very forthcoming with information when I'd asked him why they wanted to see me. Although he'd reassured me he'd get me out of any trouble, he mostly sat there like a big sulking grumpasaurus mumbling swear words.

I couldn't help but “ooh” and “aah” when we pulled through iron gates and down a long drive flanked by manicured hedges and pristine trees. At the end of the drive was a huge mansion surrounded by several other smaller, similar two-and three-story houses. I had no idea level thirteen had a nice side of town.

Whoever these supernatural people were, they sure had a lot of credits.

By the time the butler ushered us inside a grand study with ancient texts, a massive mahogany desk, and an expensive looking Persian carpet, I was convinced I was either in really big trouble or about to get an award.

As my dog sniffed the perimeter of the room, I warily eyed him, hoping he wouldn't get the urge to drag-race his ass across the carpet. I knew I didn't have enough credits for that dry cleaning bill.

The recessed double-doors slid open, revealing a tall man with chestnut skin dressed in an expensive-looking burgundy silk jacket and dark slacks. With just a touch of grey along the edges of his black hair, he appeared to be in his early fifties. I could tell by the tilt of his chin and the way he carried himself he was a man of some importance. I only hoped he was on my side.

When Jack came up to him and sniffed his pants, he halted, a mixture of annoyance and confusion crossing his features.

"So it's true," he said as he waved Jack away. "Your dog has been waiting for you all this time. Remarkable." The awe in his voice was a contradiction to the ire in his gaze when Jack licked his hand.

"Here, Jack," I called, and he thankfully trotted over and sat at my feet.

"Ashley MacLeod." The man held out a hand and smiled, revealing a set of brilliant white teeth. "So nice to meet you."

"Hi," I answered, taking his hand and trying not to buckle under the pressure of his strong grip.

"I'm Raj," he said with an elegant air, "but the other apparitions call me Shadow. Won’t you have a seat?"

He motioned toward a gold brocade sofa with fabric so pristine, I feared my butt dent would ruin it.

I sat at the edge, trying hard not to let my weight sink in. I cringed when Grim plopped onto the bench beside me, causing the antique hinges to squeak under his weight.

Jack let out a soft whimper before lying at my feet.

"I was just going over your file." Shadow sat in an upholstered leather chair across from me and held up a folder that was about as thick as a phone book. He set the book in his lap and began flipping through the pages.

I swallowed back a ball of nervous tension, worrying what incriminating evidence could possibly be bound in that book.

When Grim cleared his throat and began drumming his fingers on his knee, I was tempted to kick him, but I figured I'd already caused enough of a commotion for one day.

As Shadow continued to scan my file, smiling down at each page and even occasionally chuckling, heat bloomed in my cheeks. Had he read about my tampon theft? Or maybe that silent and deadly period fart I tried to blame on a distressed client? There was no telling what Purgatory television had caught me doing. Had I any idea my dirty laundry would one day serve as amusement for a supernatural supervisor, I would have joined the nunnery straight out of high school. I was certain my sorority days required at least two more phone books.

The stretch of silence had become too much to bear, and like always when I was under pressure, my lid exploded, and I started babbling. "Am I in trouble? Because I had no idea I was going to pop through my TV. Honestly, I was just panicked because some guy was going after my mom with a knife."

He looked up from my book of shame, smiling widely. "You’re not in trouble. Far from it. I brought you here to offer you a job."

Say what?

"A job? What kind of job?" I tried not to sound too eager, but I was ready to mow this guy down. Anything had to be better than my new assignment.

He must have seen the excitement in my overly expressive features; his dark eyes lit with recognition.

"Working on one of our squad teams for the Supernatural Intervention Agency."

"I was afraid of that," Grim groaned.

Ahhh, the sleeping giant has awakened. So nice of him to offer an opinion when he's been of little help this whole time.

A shiver stole up my spine, and I could have sworn the room temperature dropped twenty degrees as an arctic chill passed between the two men.

Shadow offered Grim a polite smile, but I wasn't fooled. He looked like a barracuda eager for his next meal. "I think we may have crossed paths on level one before. Aedan O’Connor, right? You’re a Grim?"

"Yeah," Grim grumbled. If his eyes had been guns, Shadow would have been full of holes.

"So you two are friends?" He leaned back and assessed Grim with a cool glare.

"She’s my girl," Grim said with a note of possessiveness that reminded me of my dog guarding his bone, as if me walking out on him last night and telling him I needed my space had never happened.