Page 135 of Like Grim Death: Part One
Malachi was still alive then, that first time. He was grabbing at my shirt, and I laughed, pushing him away.
Later, I remember pulling on the handle of two giant double doors, an entrance to a room on the fourth floor, Cain pressing his ear to the carved wood, then my father walked around the corner and told us we were not, under any circumstance, to enter that door. I asked why, and he hit me so hard my spine crashed against the wall and blood sprayed inside my mouth.
I didn’t ask any more questions after that.
Brooklin didn’t get to go. No girls were allowed when I went, but women, they were. My Uncle Lazar’s wife… she was there. Aunt Lamia. She always moved like a ghost with bright green eyes and soft dark hair, she was a spectre and I think I had a crush on her.
Lucifer was quiet, staring out into the darkness as we gathered at that high window, circles beneath his eyes, blinking slowly. He was silent most of the weekend we spent there. We were only kids, and all I knew was my best friend wasn’t talking to me and I probably mouthed off to him and taunted him for being so withdrawn.
Now I kind of feel the same.
My stomach churns.
I bite my bottom lip. “Can we go see a movie or—”
“No.” My mom sighs heavily as I stare at the tops of my knees. “I’m reading.” She blows out a breath, and I hear a door slam somewhere in the house. Suddenly, Mom is snapping closed her book and pushing to her feet, like an alarm has gone off. She’s patting at her blonde hair, pulling at her necklace. Then she puts her back to me, striding to the doorway. Her heels click on the hardwoods. Before she disappears from view, she glances over her shoulder and says, “Don’t let your dad see you moping.”
The ringer on my phone shatters my memories and I snap my eyes open, my hand going to the gun latched under my desk. I rarely keep my phone on anything but silent and I can’t recall why I would’ve flipped the switch, the weed making my brain fuzzy.
But my fingertips fall from the grip of my weapon when I see a strange name splashed across my screen.
Brooklin.
She’scallingme.
I snatch up the phone as I sit straighter in my office chair, just staring at the screen for a moment, wondering if I’mtoo fucking high.
But I decide if this is a delusion, I’d like to live in it for a moment.
I answer the call, pressing the phone to my ear and resting both elbows on my desk.
“Brook?”
There’s a pause as I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temple with two fingers. She probably accidentally called me and any second I’ll hear background noise. Maybe her and Ezra fucking, and I’ll throw up and cry about it because that’s the way my life is going right now.
“Mayhem.” She whispers my name, directly into the phone. A jolt of something like surprise and gratitude strikes through my brain.
“Why are you calling me?” I keep my tone even, disquiet coursing through me. She would only ever call if something was wrong. Immediately, I think of Rain, and I clench my teeth together, waiting for her reply, my eyes still closed.
Then she exhales through the phone, like she’s been holding her breath for a long time. “I’m going to ask you something and I want you to first understand I am not trying to get in your relationship.” Her voice is sharp. She’s no-nonsense and it’s good to hear it, the girl she was before she was Jeremiah’s. But if she puts Ella down, we’re going to have fucking problems.
I don’t say anything, waiting for her question.
She doesn’t make me wait long. “How much do you trust Lucifer? Right now, right this second?” She enunciates each word clearly, so I know I didn’t mishear her. But I feel as if I've misunderstood, all the same.
I blink open my eyes, straightening my spine as I look toward my office door, which is ajar. Ella is in this house somewhere. I don’t know why I reflexively think of her when Brooklin asks about Luce. The two of them can’t stand each other. But my sister did preface this conversation with some shit about not getting into myrelationship.
“Why do you ask—”
“Answer my question first.” Her voice is steel. It’s how she used to stand up for Malachi to Mom or Dad when he would get in trouble for something mundane, like not eating his vegetables or making a mess. She babied him, and their bond was stronger, in some ways. She might not have seen all of the damage I tried to shield him from with our nanny, but she got his bright moments. Over the years, I’ve envied her for that. I wonder if I would be able to see him better in my mind if I had those.
But I force myself not to think of Malachi and instead think of Lucifer. My brother now. Brother-in-law, legally, but more than that, our love is something I couldn’t put into words. So my answer is fairly easy to find.
“I trust him with my life.”
Brooklin doesn’t pause. “What about with Ella’s life?”
I stand then, my chair rolling backward behind me as I tighten my free hand into a fist. I’m staring at the darkened doorway, and I think I hear a clatter downstairs, from the kitchen, where I’m sure Ella is. I’ve always wondered if she made food for her mom—or her mom’s fucking boyfriends—a lot at home. If that’s why she’s always so hung up on it. Cooking for other people too. Baking, mostly, but she’s tried all kinds of things in this house. I’ve seen the inside of a grocery store more times in the past few months than I have the rest of my life combined.
