Runes #03 - Grimnirs (3 page)

Love my ass? Nice and sweet to him? It was obvious he was confusing me with someone else. What was he anyway? A grim reaper? Angel of death? Or a ghost hunter?

He reached under his duster trench coat, and my grip tightened on the cheese grater, my eyes not leaving him. I braced myself for the worst, but all he pulled out was a stick. No, not a stick.
A
scythe. It was so puny I wanted to laugh.

Then the tats on his fingers returned and the scythe elongated, the same markings on his fingers appearing on its shaft.

Okay, he was definitely
the
grim reaper.

Morello’s ghost took one look at the scythe and bolted. The reaper pointed the blade at him. “Stop!”

The fleeing ghost froze, terror in his eyes.

“Didn’t I say no more running, you piece of filth? Want me to use this on you?” The reaper marched to him, grabbed him by the collar, and slashed the air with the scythe.

A gray mass appeared out of thin air. It looked like a thick smoke or a dark cloud. It started to move in circles, churning faster and faster until it formed a tunnel. I couldn’t see what was at the other end of the tunnel, but it was dark and the cold draft I had felt earlier swept the store again.

I shivered.

He threw Morella into the tunnel. One by one, the other ghosts—no, he’d called them souls—followed, disappearing inside the murky interior. The last one was the woman, Sally. She said something to the reaper, but he shook his head. She gestured toward me, her mouth opening and closing.

“I’m not promising anything,” he said, his voice losing its annoying arrogance. He glanced my way and added, “Later, gorgeous.”

The tunnel closed behind him, and I released a breath. A hand landed on my shoulder, and I jumped.

“Mom? You scared me.”

She smiled. In her hand were two bags of frozen spinach. “I knew you would forget these. What are you doing with that?” She pointed at the cheese grater.

My face burned. “I thought we might need a new one.”

“No, the one at home still works,” my ever-thrifty mother said firmly.

I placed the grater on a shelf by the boxes of un-popped corn and followed her. What would she say if I were to tell her what I’d just witnessed? She’d probably call Dr. Wendell again. My mother was a practical woman. Unlike my father, who was an author, she didn’t believe in anything she couldn’t see. As she used the self-checkout to pay for the cheese and spinach, I kept an eye out for more ghosts. Souls. I had to get used to referring to them as souls.

She placed the new purchases on top of the others and pushed the cart out of the store. I followed slowly, staying vigilant in case more souls appeared.

***

I saw a few souls here and there on our way home. They all stopped and stared at our car. I slid lower in my seat and wondered whether the arrogant reaper would collect them, too. Maybe he was here to clean up our town. I hoped so. I was tired of being a target.

“You’ve been quiet since we left the store,” Mom said as we got closer to home. We were on Orchard Road, the street that split two of the largest vineyards in Kayville. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

“You know, you can talk to me if anything is bothering you.”

Talking to her was out of the question. Dr. Wendell might prescribe more psych meds or insist on having me admitted again. “I heard you and Dad talk about me this morning. I don’t want to be homeschooled, Mom. I’m going back to school on Monday.”

“Sweetie—”

“No, Mom. I’m better, and I want to do this.”

Her lips pinched in annoyance as she turned onto the road leading to our farm. “Let’s discuss it after dinner.”

Her firm voice said the discussion was closed. I leaned back against my seat and stared out the window. My parents had had me later in life and tended to be overly protective. Most of the time, I listened to them. Not this time. This might be the beginning of a trend. First, homeschooling. Next, not going away to college. The only college in town was a private one, and I planned to go as far away from Kayville as I could. There were way too many bad memories here.

Mom brought the car to a stop beside my Elantra, and I jumped out. I didn’t speak as I helped haul groceries inside. Dad glanced up from his computer, his long graying hair disheveled as though he’d run his fingers through it.

He pulled glasses from the dangling chain around his neck and adjusted it on the bridge of his nose. He was far-sighted and wore round glasses, which had gone out of style eons ago. Dad didn’t care about style. If he weren’t an author, one would confuse him for an absentminded professor. He wrote sci-fi books for middle graders and had seriously loyal fans. Unfortunately, he hadn’t won me over. I found it hard to get into his books. Still, I was proud of him.

“That was fast,” he said, standing.

I shrugged and kept walking to the kitchen.

When I crossed the living room, Mom was by Dad’s desk, the two of them talking in whispers, probably discussing me. Mom looked even shorter beside Dad. He was tall with graying hair and beard, and twinkling gray eyes I’d inherited. The rest of me came from my mother, including the big boobs and the blonde hair. Hers had more gray now though.

I ignored them and went back outside. I brought in more bags of groceries and almost bumped into Dad.

He scratched his beard and studied me. “You okay, muffin?”

“Yeah.”

He grabbed most of the remaining bags. Dad carried his weight around the farm and was fit for his age. He usually woke up early to write and then helped Mom afterwards. He also tended to write late at night and was known to take odd naps in the afternoons. He was one of those dads who was around a lot but wasn’t really there. How had he put it? His characters talked to him all the time.

 
“Your mother said you want to go back to school on Monday,” he said as we started for the house.

I nodded. He often let Mom make most decisions about my life, and he went along with them. This time, I wanted him to take my side.

“Can you talk to her, please? It won’t feel like I’ve recovered if I don’t do normal things like normal kids. Being homeschooled will only remind me of PMI. Please, Dad. Please.”

He sighed and nodded.

Mom glanced up when we entered the kitchen, her eyes volleying between us. “I think I’ll make ground turkey lasagna without spinach today.”

I placed the bags on the counter and eyed her. “You are buttering me up, Mom.”

She smiled, a twinkle entering her honey-brown eyes. She always looked younger and less tired when she smiled. “No, I’m not. We’ll still have spinach as a side dish and some green beans. Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

“About school…”

“Not now, Cora,” she said.

“Let her go to school, Penny,” Dad said. “She’s better now. That means doing normal things with her friends.”

Mom frowned. She looked ready to argue.

“Remember what Wendell said, dear,” Dad continued. “She must go back to doing normal things.”

Mom sighed. “Okay, she can go, but on one condition.”

“Yes! Thank you, Daddy. You are the best.” I gave him a hug and ran to give Mom one too.

Mom chuckled and exchanged a look with Dad, who was putting groceries in the fridge. “You haven’t heard what it is yet,” she chided.

“Hey, you always say I have to learn to compromise. I get to go to school so…?”

“If anyone gives you a hard time about your stay at PMI, we want to know about it. Students can be cruel,” Mom said firmly.

Like I was going to tell them things that happened at school. That would be so lame. They’d stopped fighting my battles when I started public school in junior high. In public school, you either swam or sank, and I’d floated to the top with the help of… I wasn’t going to think about them. I wasn’t going to think about Raine or Eirik.

“Deal,” I fibbed.

“We mean it, Cora,” Dad added. “I have no problem calling Raine and grilling her about what’s going on at school if you keep things from us.”

Heavy silence followed.

Raine was one name we’d avoided mentioning around my house since I came back. Raine Cooper was… No, Raine and I
had been
inseparable since she found me crying my eyes out in junior high, until she’d decided I wasn’t worth her time. I hadn’t heard a peep from her while I was in the psych ward. She never visited or called to see how I was doing, until I came home a week ago. Then she’d stopped by. Thankfully, Mom had known I didn’t want to see her and told her to take a hike. Raine hadn’t tried to see me again.

I’d thought we were tight, that nothing could ever come between us. Obviously, I was wrong. She hadn’t wanted to be associated with a mental case. Like I said, I forgave her for dating Eirik, but this…

Thinking about her hurt and pissed me off at the same time. I started for the stairs. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Sweetheart, wait!” Mom called out.

Sighing, I turned.

“Give Raine a chance to explain when you see her. I was a bit hard on her when she stopped by.”

I didn’t want to hear this.

“And she swung by while you two were at the store today,” Dad added.

I wanted to ask him what she’d said, but I clammed up. There was no excuse for the way she had behaved. Friends were supposed to be there for each other through the crappy times and good one. Raine had kicked me to the curb without a thought.

“Can I go now?” I asked.

They exchanged a look, and then Mom nodded.

“And can I have my electronics back, too?” When they exchanged another look, I groaned. “I’m just following the doctor’s orders. You know, doing normal things. It’s been a week already. I want to vlog and text Raine,” I lied again. I had no intention of ever talking to that bitch.

“Okay,” Mom said, smiling. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

Dad walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and removed my laptop and phone. “Ease back into things, muffin.”

“I plan to.” I kissed his cheek, waved to Mom, and raced upstairs. I tried to turn on my cell phone, but the battery was dead. I plugged it in, booted the laptop, and sat at my desk.

My first concern was what my friends had been saying about me while I was gone. People in high school could be cruel, especially girls. On a given day, I’d stand toe-to-toe with any one of them and win. I didn’t take crap from anyone. Things were different now. I had a horrible secret to hide. No, I had secrets. Secrets that could ruin me. I had been admitted at PMI, and I could see souls.

I visited social websites and checked my friends’ updates. No one mentioned my absence. No one had missed me. Phooey. But I was tagged on pictures of Raine and… her new boyfriend? What happened to Eirik? Did she ditch him for the new guy?

Poor Eirik.

The more I read, the more I realized my friend… my
ex
-friend had changed. She was dating a quarterback. She didn’t even like football. He was hot. I mean, model-like, drool-worthy, lip-smacking hot. Going by the pictures and comments, I wasn’t the only one who thought so. They raved about his everything—hot bod, hair, eyes, accent. Even more interesting were the changes I saw in her.

Raine was naturally beautiful with gorgeous skin, thick luxurious hair she didn’t need to style often, and the perfect body. She wasn’t disproportional like me. I had big boobs. Add my hair color and everyone assumed I was a dumb blonde. The funniest thing was Raine didn’t even consider herself beautiful. I’d never thought freckles were cute until I met her.

Before the tragic meet and my trip to PMI, her idea of makeup had been gloss and occasional mascara. From the pictures, she was curling her hair and wearing lipstick. She looked radiant.

There were pictures of her and her man on almost all the social websites I visited and some of just him and the team. According to the Kayville High grapevine, he was the reason the football team might make it to state this year.

Once again, I was envious of my best friend. And maybe a bit annoyed. She’d dumped Eirik fast. Was he heartbroken? Maybe I had a shot with him now. Nah, I didn’t want him anymore. He had a chance to be with me and blew it.

Feeling crappy, I clicked on my vlog. I’d missed vlogging and interacting with...

No, this couldn’t be right. I checked the date again on the video. The last vlog was posted a little over a week ago. I clicked on it, and my face filled the screen.

“Okay, guys, Hottie of the Week should be known to all of you. Six-foot-three, moves like a dancer, a six-pack you can bounce a quarter off of, and a body like a well-oiled machine.” I fanned my face to the camera. “I know what you are thinking. How do I know? That’s for me to know and you to guess. He has gorgeous, black wavy hair that comes to his shoulders and impossibly blue eyes any girl could stare into forever. If you still haven’t guessed who he is, he rides a Harley and has the most amazing accent. If you haven’t seen his pictures online, you’re missing out. Let me know what you think. Till next time.”

Nothing made sense. When did I post the video? How could I have made it or posted it? The date at the corner said it was posted ten days ago. I was still in the crazy house ten days ago.