Page 42 of Grim

“Fine, if fawning fails, there’s always bribery.” I smirk sadistically.

Kane stops pacing, finally looking at me. “With what exactly? Besides your pretty soul, which already has my name on it, you possess nothing of interest to me.”

My smile is slow and devious, causing him to shudder. “Esther.”

His entire body goes rigid. “Thatthingis not a bargaining chip.”

“You take me with you,” I say, my voice sickeningly sweet, “and I’ll keep my kitty at bay. You insist on flying solo, and I can’t promise that Esther won’t ‘accidentally’ end up using your suit jacket as a bed. Or worse, she loves curling up on chests. Big, broad, dead ones are new for her, but I’m quite sure she’d love to nestle into that cavity and—”

“FINE.” Kane’s voice is sharp and clipped, the single syllable sounding as though it were forcibly ripped from his throat.

He glares at me with pure, undiluted venom, the kind of look that, in any other circumstance, would make me very concerned for my continued existence. But seeing as I’m on a tight timeline here with zero fucks left togive, I grin like a person with nothing to lose. Because, well … I don’t.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I say brightly as a delighted cackle echoes from the kitchen.

I turn just in time to see the ghost child pop his head out of the wall—never mind the fact that his entire head is phasing through solid matter like this is some low-budget haunted house attraction. I shudder, and my knees go weak. This will take some getting used to. For years, I felt the energy of this spirit, saw and heard the effects of its petulant disturbances, but now, I can see it.Him.This is one of the side effects of my brief dance on the other side of life’s coin, according to Kane.

“This one here’s a pushover.” The kid jerks a thumb at Kane.

The gesture is so simple yet so profound, and my mind swirls as I try to make sense of this mystical reality. While I grapple with the mysteries of lost souls, Kane rolls his eyes so hard that I fear they might never return.

“I, for one, find Esther to be a delightful companion,” the ghost adds, as though twisting the knife into Kane’s side.

The fact that my house spirit has an affinity for my house cat fascinates me enough to swallow my fear and confusion and address the child directly.

“You hang out with Esther?” I ask, more impressed than concerned.

The kid shrugs his skinny shoulders before stepping fully through the wall—a disorienting sight I don’t expect to get used to in the next week—and makes his way to my sleeping beast of a cat.

“Before you could see me, it was quite lonely around here,” he says matter-of-factly, brushing his fingers near Esther’s fur, which—judging by the violent twitching of her tail—is not appreciated. “Especially being trapped in the confines of the house. Esther here was the first to take notice of me.”

I take in the seeming realness of this spectral entity. How many times has he been sitting like that? In this house? Next to me. Near me. Beside me. The visual reality of his presence sends chills down my spine, but I push past my anxiety and reach out to the child.

I feel drawn to him and physically raise my arm toward him as I ask, “What’s your name?”

Kane clears his throat loudly, forcefully. “This is all very fascinating, really. I haven’t been this stimulated since that summer in Barcelona.” His tone has a carnal, almost-lustful edge to it as he seems to remember something about Spain.

The sharp pang of jealousy I feel takes me by surprise. I watch as he pulls a flask from the inside of his suit jacket, takes a long, slow drink, then caps the container dramatically.

“But I have a tight schedule,” he continues, adjusting his sleeves with practiced indifference. “So, I need to get moving.”

“Right,” I say, trying not to sound nervous even though I absolutely am. “So, do I order a rideshare or …” I trail off as Kane walks through the kitchen, heading toward the back door like this is some casual neighborhood stroll and not an excursion into the world of literal death.

I wave to the ghost boy before jogging after Kane, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor.

“Where are you going?” I pant, struggling to keep up with his annoyingly long, supernatural strides.

“I told you,” he huffs, not even sparing me a glance, “Time waits for no one.”

I expect him to head toward the driveway or maybe even the woods, but, no, this asshole heads straight for my father’s final resting place.

I bristle immediately.

“Hey!” I snap, shoving him.

Kane stumbles slightly, more out of shock than actual force, before raising his hands in mock surrender, causing me to lose my balance and fall straight to my knees.

I scramble back to my feet, brushing the dirt off my legs with extra aggression. “Get off his grave.”