Page 149 of Grim
I lie back on my cot and stare at the ceiling, then my eyes are drawn to the shimmer of the gems on her necklace. As the light dances off the facets, I catch glimpses of Rue in each pinpoint of light. The stubborn set of her jaw when she was angry. The fall of her hair over her shoulders. The softness in her eyes after we kissed. The visions are faded, but I can see them.
I smile as I look at her slippers. Unlike before, her voice returns in my head. I recall the way she named them.
Bunny and Cher.I can hear her. It’s faint, not much more than a whisper, but I can still hear her.
ShowingSomeMercy
The bathhouse reeks of eucalyptus. Some eager intern thought I needed to ‘find my vibe’. I’m about to help her find a new career.
Steam drifts across the ceiling while I sip my cocktail through a Twizzler straw, floating in a pink flamingo. Sorry, not in a flamingo. On a flamingo. This isn’t an inflatable floatie. This is an actual bird with real eyes and incredible balance. The string quartet in the corner has been butcheringClair de Lunefor two hours straight. I told them not to stop until I forgot how to feel. They’re doing a terrible job at both music and memory erasure.
“Sir?”
I ignore the voice. I’m busy contemplating the water and trying to figure out where I go from here. Losing Kane left a sour taste that even this top-shelf daiquiri can’t wash out. My subordinate assaulted me, sure. A reaper attacked the boss—not a good look. But banishing one of the best to the bureaucratic basement doesn’t sit well with the boss, even in alliteration.
“Sir … there’s a visitor.”
“Can’t you see I’m busy, Clarence? Not now.”
“Tell him I’ve traveled a really long way to be here, Clarence.”
My body stiffens harder than rigor mortis at the soundof that voice. That particular blend of honey and razor wire I haven’t heard in ages.
The intern squeaks, “It’s Mercy, sir.”
“Thank you, Clarence. I can fucking see that, can’t I?”
“Don’t mind him, Clarence. You’ve done a great job.” Mercy pats my assistant on the shoulder and ushers him out of the room.
I eye the lost triplet, agog.
“What’s the matter, D? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. And that seeing ghosts isn’t an occupational hazard for you.”
Mercy stands at the edge of the tile, as if she owns the place. In a different timeline, I imagine she does. Arms crossed, coat dusted with ash, wearing a hardened expression that spells a most deviant form of trouble. Her eyes—still that same electric blue, like a live wire submerged in the ocean. I am rendered as shocked as I was the first time I dipped my toes into her depths.
She looks exactly like she did all those years ago, though she’s taken on an aura that speaks of hard-earned knowledge. It gives her an unmistakable and devastating patina.
Her auburn hair is braided thick, showing off a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Pale skin, scattered with freckles I used to count when we had nothing but time. Silver scars trace her exposed skin, like cave drawings that tell the story of hard-fought battles, those waged both internally and externally.
“Nice float,” she says sarcastically. “Really brings out your ego.”
“You’re supposed to be gone.” I have no time for flippant comments. I want answers.
“I was.” She strolls in like she still has keys to the place. Like I didn’t spend decades trying to drink away her memory. “Funny thing about being gone—sometimes, you come back.”
“You were banished.”
“Not as permanent a fate as Fate seems to think. Just ask Oedipus or Perdita. You’d think my sister would learn her lesson, but she never was the sharpest pencil in the drawer.”
“Your story should be over.”
“Trust me, if it were possible, my charming siblings would have managed it by now. But this stubborn little girl never did like a stand-alone. I’m here for the whole series.”
I haul myself out of the pool, water streaming off my bare chest and torso. I dry my chest, then cinch the towel around my waist. “You were sent to the Moonless Mountains.”
“Yes. One of several bones I have to pick with you. Definitely not a prime vacation spot.”
“I didn’t know.”
