Page 32 of The Reaper

They both glanced in my direction, Grandma wiping away her tears. She stood and rushed toward me, caging me with her embrace. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

Grandpa led us to the dining table.

“Um … Grandma?” I asked, after the surge of sadness that had rendered me speechless passed.

“What is it, my love?” She loosened her hold on me, reaching up to cup my face. She wiped the streaks of tears from my face, combing my hair with her fingers. “Did you need something?”

I nodded. “My friends are going to this party and I was hoping to go with them?”

“Have we met these friends?” Grandpa asked. “They’re not drinking, are they?” He looked up at the wall clock, perhaps wondering what kind of party started at eleven o’clock at night. They weren’t strict, but it was way past my bedtime. “Is Luke going too?”

“Yes, he’s going,” I said.

“Who else?” Grandma asked.

“His name is Wolf. Luke and I met him recently,” I answered, crossing my fingers. “He’s a cool guy,” I added.

“Wolf?” Grandma asked.

I nodded. “We call him Wolf. That’s his nickname.”

My grandparents exchanged glances, Grandpa shaking his head slightly.

“Please,” I said. “I don’t want my birthday to end just yet. Please? You said it yourself, Grandpa, I only get to be eighteen once, so I better enjoy it.”

I held my breath waiting for their response. They worried about me. How could they not after the death of my dad and Mom’s disappearance?

Grandpa blew out a breath, surrendering. “Be back before two,” he said, reaching over to wrap his arm around Grandma’s shoulders. “Remember …” He trailed off. “We don’t sleep until you’re safely home.” They told me that a lot. I used to think it was a ploy to guilt me into staying in, but I was proven wrong when I once arrived home late without telling them where I was. They never gave me grief about it. Knowing they were worried about me was worse than any punishment they could dish out. It was effective too, because I’d never stayed out past ten. But today called for a celebration. I was finally an adult, and there was no better way to commemorate than to stay out late.

“This guy—” Grandpa started.

“His name is Wolf.” Grandma chuckled.

“This Wolf. He’s a good guy, right?”

“He is.” I didn’t know a lot about him, but he seemed like a solid person. He’d taken us to the movies and even taught me how to shoot a gun. They didn’t need to know that. He was a bit older than us at thirty, but he was very cool. I wanted to be like him when I was his age.

“Okay,” Grandpa said.

“Okay, like, yes?” I asked, grinning.

“We trust your judgment,” Grandma said. “Don’t grow up too soon.” She pulled me to her petite frame, kissing the side of my face repeatedly.

Grandpa joined us and kissed the top of my head.

“I’ll be safe.” I grabbed my car keys from the counter then headed toward the door.

“Take a coat!” she called out.

“Got it!” I yelled.

The man I’d seen from upstairs was still watching our house, but immediately drove off, disrupting the quiet evening, when I got into my car. That was odd.

“Where are we?” Luke asked, looking around the street the moment we parked my car.

“These are the directions Wolf gave us,” I said, glancing at the handwritten note and the rusty metal gate of an old warehouse. The directions he’d given us took us twenty miles away from Belfast. It was an old shipping container storage yard by Penobscot Bay. The surroundings were damp and shrouded in fog; we couldn’t see more than twenty feet in front of us.

“Are you sure?” Luke grabbed the paper and squinted at the scrawled directions. “This is it … but why would he ask us to come here? It’s a fucking dump.” He pointed at the dilapidated building riddled with rusting holes. “That shit is falling apart.”

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