Page 55 of Grim

“You’re going to stare at me the entire time like a judgmental statue, aren’t you?”

“I don’t judge.”

“You’re literally judging me right now. I can practically see the gavel growing out of your ass.”

“I’m observing. Professionally.”

“Whatever. Do you,” she says and takes another huge helping to her face. After she swallows, she looks at me. “Is it just me, or was Jake looking at me kinda funny? I mean, most people in this town look at me like I have a third head, but I don’t know. There was something off about the whole vibe.”

I think about whether or not I want to fill Rue in or if this is one of those post-mortal realizations that one must come to on their own terms. She’s got a lot to digest, I decide, not the least of which is mounds of lactose, so I’ll get her up to speed.

“Well, Jake couldn’t see me, so perhaps he found it odd, watching you yell at thin air and order ice cream for your invisible friend.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been over this, mortal. I am not from around here. I come when needed—which is usually a coronary episode. Those I come for can see me. Those who will live on get to carry on in blissful ignorance.”

“So, that kid watched me have a full-blown dialogue with what?”

“Nothing, I imagine. Must have looked pretty weird. Even for you, Rue.”

Her lips purse in irritation. “I’d tell you off, but I doubt it would land.”

“Probably should save that precious breath then.” I wink as she rolls her eyes.

“You’re impossible.”

“You’ve mentioned that a time or three. You’re running out of material, Mayday.”

She ignores me while scooping another bite and shoving it toward my face.

I blink. “You can’t be serious.”

“Live a little, Kane.”

“I did—centuries ago. Overrated, in all honesty.”

Her face drops into an annoyed scowl as she wiggles the spoon.

I roll my eyes. “You want me to eat a spoonful of sugar paste from your bowl like some pathetic romantic-comedy side character?”

“Yes. Precisely.”

I give her a long look. She doesn’t blink.

With an exaggerated sigh, I lean forward and take a bite. The flavor hits like it’s settling a score.

“Well?”

“It’s not awful,” I state plainly. “Possibly the least offensive mortal invention I’ve tasted this century.”

She beams before reaching over and running her thumb over my bottom lip. I freeze, unable to think as she pulls away and brings her thumb to her mouth, sucking off the ice cream.

Well, that’s going to be an image that will haunt me this evening.

She seems happy and peaceful for a moment longer, and then something dawns on her. Her entire countenance shifts.

“Wait,” she says. “If Jake can’t see you, if people can’t see you, then how are we going to spend the next several days together?”