Light the Shadows (A Grimm Novel) (5 page)

Anna squealed in terror, and her image flickered.

“Don’t you disappear on me!”
Micah didn’t know what was happening, and the ghost’s reaction was worrisome.

“He saw me. Oh crap. He saw me!”

“That’s not possible.” Micah’s head jerked toward the window with whiplash speed. She and Sully had something in common after all! They could both see pain in the ass teenagers who also happened to be ghosts.

“You cannot see that man again, okay? Promise me, Micah.”
Anna’s eyes widened, and the fingers of her right hand disappeared into the soft leather of the seat. “Avoid him at all costs.”

“Didn’t you see him? He’s freaking gorgeous.” Micah’s fists curled around the steering wheel so tight that the leather creaked. “Not to mention, I just trashed his motorcycle. I have to see him to take care of the damage.”

“I didn’t recognize him before,” Anna muttered.

“You know him?”

The next words out of Anna’s mouth forced bile into Micah’s throat. “He’s a Reaper.”

Chapter
Four

Micah was tired and grumpy from a night of restless sleep. Constant worries that the Reaper would come crashing into her bedroom and haul her to hell kept her searching the darkness for any sign of movement. When she finally had fallen into a fitful sleep early this morning, her dreams had been sordid, and James Sullivan had made her scream for entirely different reasons.

“I’m not leaving the house until this is resolved.” The declaration left Micah’s lips as she came out of the walk-in closet. “Why isn’t he making a move? What’s he waiting for?”

“I don’t know.” Anna flopped back on the bed, but didn’t muss the covers. “What about your job? Your life?”

The girl hadn’t been there when Micah had gone into the closet to dress, but she wasn’t surprised to see her this morning. Anna was forever popping up without warning.

Micah sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s stolen, remember?”

Anna waggled a ghostly finger at her. “Finders keepers. He has to prove you stole it first.”

“Then what? Will he make me give it back?”

“I don’t know,” Anna
said with an exasperated groan.

“There seems to be a lot you don’t know.”

Anna sat up to glare at her. “Well, no one has ever returned before. At least, not on my watch.”

Micah ignored her comment and sorted through a shoe box full of old photos she found hidden behind a stack of shoes in the closet. There had also been a school yearbook. Senior year must have been a sad, lonely affair. The pages inside were clean without friends
’ names signed next to photos or witty little poems in the white space. When she finally located her senior class, she stared at the photo of herself, at a loss for words. The girl pictured there looked miserable, so lost and lonely.

The book snapped shut with a puff of dusty air that sent Micah’s hair flying off her face. Something else was bothering her about the man candy Anna had accused of being a
Reaper. “He didn’t have a scythe. Maybe you were mistaken.”

Anna sneered with an eye roll. “It isn’t like he can just drag one around all day. Have you ever seen one? They’re cumbersome. I imagine it’s going to be in the form of a tattoo or something like that.”

Then it hit Micah, a certainty so obvious that she dropped the book onto the comforter. “He followed you.”

Anna sat up, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What? No.”

“You keep showing up and making a pain of yourself. He probably followed you right to me!”

“Making a pain of myself?” the ghost shrieked then shot to her feet. Her face twisted into something ugly,
with her teeth bared and her eyes squinted. “I’ll show you how much of a pain I can be!”

She dashed toward the dresser and knocked everything onto the floor without even touching it. Next, she turned toward the bookshelf tucked in the corner,
and books and trinkets tumbled to the floor. The romance novel on the bedside table flopped onto the floor. Its bookmark shot beneath the bed, lost amongst the dust bunnies and cobwebs.

“Stop it, you little brat!” Micah chased her out of the room toward the kitchen.

By the time they reached the breakfast bar, Anna's tantrum lost steam. She dumped over a cup of water sitting on the counter. Ribbons of water stretched across the countertop and soaked the morning newspaper. The rest dribbled onto the floor.

“God, that takes a lot of energy. It really takes it out of me.” She bent at the waist, placing her hands on her knees
, and laughed. Casting one last glance at Micah's furious face, she flickered then disappeared.

Grumbling to herself, Micah crouched to clean the mess. She would have to apologize for calling Anna a brat, even if she was one. She was the only
friend
Micah had. The gravity of the situation struck her, and she fell backward onto her butt in a fit of laughter. Her only friend was a ghost and a teenager at that! How depressing. If she hadn’t already died once, she might slit her wrists!

Her fingers clenched the wet paper towels when she spotted the sodden newspaper. It lay open, the week’s obituaries in view. There at the top of the page was the tow truck driver.

“Oh no.” she scrambled to her feet then spread the soggy paper across the counter.

Frank Owen’s black and white picture smiled up at her. He looked just like she remembered him, balding and stout. The only difference was he wore his Sunday best and not the grease
-covered coveralls she’d last seen him in. Scanning the obit, she learned that he’d died the same night she’d hit Sully’s motorcycle. He was survived by a wife and two grown children.

Morbid curiosity arose within her. Perhaps Anna was right about
James Sullivan after all. Maybe he really was a Reaper and had caused this man’s demise. Come to think of it, she recalled seeing something on the news the night before about a wreck involving a tow truck. The driver had suffered a massive heart attack and swerved into the other lane. The truck had flipped and killed the driver. No one else was injured, and no other vehicles were involved, but she vaguely recalled seeing a mangled silver motorcycle in the twisted wreckage.

Goosebumps arose on her skin
, and a nervous jitter tripped down her spine.

“It can still be useful,” Micah whispered the words Sully had told her about the damaged machine.

A shadow passed by the other side of the breakfast bar. Its silhouette appeared long and misshapen. Atop its head sat what appeared to be a … hat? Micah jerked her head up and peered around the corner, but saw no one. A vibration of panic seized her. Had the creepy guy she'd seen in her car been there?

The pit of her stomach bottomed out
, and her limbs shook. Pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, she rubbed them furiously. “What the hell is going on?”

Seconds later, the doorbell rang. Micah yelped then realized what it was and felt like an idiot. This
Reaper business had made her way too jumpy.

She slung the front door open, scaring the crap out of the woman standing there. Her dark eyes widened
, and her mouth formed a surprised circle. She readjusted the leather tote on her shoulder. “Micah, wow, I hardly recognize you. Ben warned me, but I didn’t believe it.”

“Do I know you?” Of course she didn’t, but the old Micah probably did.

“It’s me, Diane. Diane Harmon.” She was older than Micah, but only by a few years. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail that accentuated the almond shape of her eyes. Diane's clothing was expensive, tailored jeans and a green silk blouse. Micah wondered if she even owned a pair of sweats.

Diane forced a smile. “I hate to bother you on the weekend, but do you think we could talk for a few minutes?”

Stepping aside, Micah swept her arm toward the kitchen, inviting the woman inside. So this was Diane Harmon? Karla had suggested they didn’t get along and hinted that Diane wanted to fire her, but maybe that was just an old Micah problem. She couldn’t think of any reason she and Diane couldn’t start anew.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Diane said then perched herself on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. After she set up her laptop and got some paperwork out, she offered a sheepish smile. “I need a favor. I’d rather not rely on you, but I really have no choice in the matter.”

Micah stood on the other side of the bar, arms crossed over her chest. Diane didn’t seem to want to be here, and she was in a hurry, hurry let’s get this done mindset. Micah narrowed her gaze and sneered. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Diane.”

Diane pursed her lips then looked away. A slight flush colored her cheeks.

Micah leaned a shoulder against the refrigerator. “I’m fine by the way. Spent a week in the hospital in a coma, or so I’m told. I can’t actually remember anything before waking up. They thought I was dead and pulled the plug, but I’m fine now. Thanks for asking.”

Diane’s shoulders drooped
, and she frowned. “That was rude of me, wasn’t it? How are you holding up, Micah? Really?”

Micah
slid onto a stool, leaving an empty one between them. “Honestly? It’s been difficult. I feel like a stranger in my own life.” There, that wasn’t a total lie. “Look, I’ve been told that you and I didn’t get along, but I have no idea why. Can’t we just start over, like we’re meeting for the first time?”

Diane studied her for a moment through narrowed eyes. When she spoke, venom practically dripped from her words. “I think you slept with my husband.”

Micah’s stomach bottomed out, and she took a shaky breath. Her mouth fell open, but she didn’t know what to say.

Diane said, “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but the signs were all there. He got drunk at last year’s Christmas party
, and you’ve had a crush on him since you started working at the office. You left the party early, and he disappeared shortly after. He started working later and later and would come home smelling of perfume. What else would I think?”

“Diane…” Micah thought she might throw up. Surely old Micah hadn’t done the nasty with her employer’s husband. “No, I’d never do that.”

“Ben and I have been married for seven years.” Diane laid her hands atop the bar and studied her manicured nails. “Now that you’ve come back, you’re all he can talk about.”

“Diane, that doesn’t mean…”

“And I can see why,” Diane said. “Just look at you. Everything about you has changed. You’re gorgeous.”

Micah
was going out on a limb here. “I’m not interested in Ben, Diane. I don’t even remember him before the accident. Surely if there was something intimate between us, I’d remember it. Or he’d say something to me about it.”

The kitchen fell into an uneasy silence after that
, and Micah allowed Diane a moment to gather her thoughts. When she couldn’t stand the silence a moment longer, she said, "If you're going to fire me, do it quick and get it over with.”

Diane reared back to scowl at her. "I'm a ferocious business woman, but even I'm not that heartless. I actually need your help.”

Micah looked away, wishing Anna was here to offer some form of encouragement.

“I don’t want to put you on the spot, but do you think you’d be able to show a few houses? Karla
…” Diane rolled her eyes at the mention of the secretary. “Karla thinks you were in a vegetative state for too long, and how did she put it? Oh yes, ‘you don’t remember squat’.”

“Karla is a bitch,” Micah
said flatly.

“She really is.” Diane smoothed a hand over her dark tresses. “She’s the one who suggested Ben was sleeping with you. I don’t know what’s true anymore.”

Micah snuck a quick glance in Diane’s direction with the hope that she might read something in her body language. “So what are you going to do?”

Diane shrugged. “Ben hasn’t sold a house in months because he’d rather play golf or hang out with his buddies. I’m so confused right now, Micah. I don’t know if I want to fight for him or just let him go.”

“I’m sorry.” Micah’s gaze flicked to hers. “I wish I had an answer for you.”

“He’s been pretty useless lately. He comes home late. He’s still being secretive and says he has a headache or whatever. He just seems so distant. He sells a house every now and then, but generally if the buyer is interested, he just passes them off to me. Or you, before the accident.”

Diane studied Micah a moment, and she seemed on the verge of saying something more, but pressed her lips into a thin line at the last moment.

“What?”

Diane’s dark eyes looked at everything in the kitchen but her. “I saw him kiss you. It was beneath the mistletoe at the Christmas party.”

Her mouth fell open to deny this, but what should she say exactly? She licked her lips then said, “But that was just a peck, right? It wasn’t full on mouth, was it?”

“I don’t think so. It was so long ago, I don’t recall exactly.” Diane sighed then looked at her. “At the time, I thought you had planned to be beneath the mistletoe at that moment. Your hands came up to his chest, and I don’t know … Maybe you were just pushing him away.”