Page 25 of Grim Girl (Dead Girl Duology #2)

Kali

C hance was frowning, his frustration evident as he tried unsuccessfully for the umpteenth time today to move away from his grave.

‘This is useless,’ he said with a huff, and I couldn’t stop my smile from spreading it I’d tried.

He was so fucking cute when he was out of his depth.

He had always been in control of everything around him.

His home life wasn’t the best, so he tried to make everything else go his way.

It wasn’t often I saw him lose his cool like this.

Plus, that pout . I just wanted to take it between my teeth and give him something else to focus on. Something that would take the edge off.

Unfortunately for me, he was too determined to be deterred, even by the prospect of sex.

He couldn’t stand the fact that he was unable to move anywhere, that he couldn’t even get his feet to move, and that, apparently , left me vulnerable.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t been a ghost for seven years or anything, but he was being a bit boneheaded about the whole thing.

I kept trying to convince him he should give himself some grace – it had taken me months, if not years, to succeed in what he was trying to force himself to do now – but he wasn’t listening. I tried to be patient, but there was only so much I could do before I lost it with him, too.

‘I’m going to check on the woman again,’ I told him.

I had been taking brief stints away from him for several reasons, one of which was Blake’s next victim.

I was trying to see if I could communicate with her somehow.

The cops had already been informed, and if they weren’t going to do anything, then the job fell to me.

I wasn’t cut up about it. Quite the opposite.

Chance kept calling me a hypocrite because I was doing the same as him, except I was pushing and testing the boundaries of my new abilities.

He was just trying to create one out of thin air under the guise of being a better bodyguard, but I didn’t need one of those.

What I needed was to make myself strong enough to interact with the living realm, because I was itching at the bit to start making Blake’s life a living hell.

That started with figuring out a way to release the poor woman currently trapped in his basement. Since she was a cop, she could get those empty-headed coworkers of hers to pull their thumbs out of their asses and actually do something.

Though now that I thought about it, if Blake were to get arrested, I would need Chance to have the ability to move around freely so we could follow in his wake. We could be his unrelenting, waking nightmares if we couldn’t get to him.

Okay, perhaps I was being a little unfair to Chance. He was doing his best in a shitty situation, and I was the one preaching about giving him some grace, after all. I should be extending him the same courtesy.

Damn it.

I drifted up, my feet lifting even higher into the air as I levitated my face closer to his, then pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

‘You’ve got his, baby,’ I whispered into his mouth. ‘You’ve already come so far in so little time. I know you can do this.’

‘Only because of you,’ he told me, not an ounce of levity in his gaze. ‘If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be as far along, and we both know it.’

I sighed, melting into him for a moment. We held each other, basking in the ability to do so. It still sent my head spiralling into incredulity to think that my wildest dreams were finally coming true. We’d just had to die first. Go figure.

‘Go check on the cop,’ he told me, gently pushing me away from him and towards the house. I let him, albeit reluctantly. I wasn’t quite ready to let him go, but while we had all the time in the world, she didn’t.

‘I’ll be back in a bit,’ I told him, floating backwards so I wouldn’t have to take my eyes off of him for as long as possible.

It still didn’t seem real that he was here, that he was mine , and every time I left him for any length of time, my anxiety went through the roof.

My brain kept telling me that it was all in my head, that I would head back to his grave only to find there wasn’t one dug there, that he was still alive. And I was still alone.

And then there was the guilt I was grappling with.

I was happy that the man I loved was dead.

What kind of sick bitch did that make me?

But, at the same time, I was well aware that death wasn’t the end.

It was just the beginning of a new chapter, something that I was beginning to realise might just be more fun than being alive, if these new abilities were any indication.

I had discovered I could do more than move freely and coil shadows around my fingers.

In fact, those shadows were where the real power came in.

I could fold them over me, turning me invisible.

I could use them to pull me through the darkness at speeds I struggled to wrap my head around.

One moment I was here, and the next I could be an entire state away.

I hadn’t tested the boundaries of that ability, but there was an innate knowing that if I took another soul into myself that way I had Bianca’s, I would only grow more powerful.

And that was how I came to understand Morty without him even being around.

He hadn’t returned after catching me and Chance in the act the other day.

I could feel him, but it was like he was circling us, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

I was worried about him, too, much to my chagrin.

Chance was right in that I had grown to care for my shadow man, and that he was mine just as much as Chance was.

And, yes, okay , I was his, too. But I wasn’t ready to just give myself over to him on a fucking platter. He still needed to work for it.

And to do that, he needed to come back.

I could sense which direction he was in, but I didn’t want to push him by tracking him down.

He was free to come and go as he pleased, and it wasn’t my place to force him to stay.

He’d made his claim, and while I still needed to stake mine in return, it was obvious that he wasn’t quite ready for that leap just yet.

It was one thing to be possessive over someone, and another thing entirely to acknowledge that those feelings went far deeper than that. I’d let him have his time alone.

I could already tell he would need a lot of it, anyway. He was definitely the silent, brooding type, the kind to stalk someone from the shadows. The very shadows he just so happened to have the ability to manipulate.

But I also wanted him back, if only so I could pepper him with questions.

I had learned quite a lot on my own, but it would be a lot quicker if I had him to teach me.

I got the feeling that he wouldn’t do so willingly, however.

He had stepped back to let me figure out how to harness the energy that had been so slippery not so long ago.

I got the sense that he wanted me to flourish, and he wanted me to claim that victory for myself.

The hard way.

But, I had to give it to him; the hard way was infinitely more rewarding and satisfying than being handed the answers. He didn’t want me to cheat, and I respected that. Didn’t mean I could wish for a cheat sheet now and then, though. I would have loved for at least one thing to fall into my lap.

I phased through the house, the wall now blocking my view of Chance as he watched from where he was stuck.

My heart lurched at the sudden thought that he might never unstick himself, but I pushed those thoughts to the furthest recesses of my mind.

It wouldn’t happen. He would free himself just like I had, and we would take out revenge together.

It was the only option.

I didn’t immediately head to the basement. When I entered the house, Blake was right there, pottering around the house like he was livening it up for polite company. It was such a strange sight that it stopped me in my tracks, curiosity momentarily overtaking everything else.

During our marriage, I was the caretaker. I ensured he was pampered after his long hours at work, kept the house clean and tidy, and cooked all our meals. He brought home the money, and I kept the house a home. I suspected the same could be said for his new wife. Dakota.

I wondered how she was faring with the news.

She’d been there when I’d broken it, after all, and she had already been struggling with something.

My heart bled for her. She didn’t deserve this.

From our brief interactions, I could tell she was a kind-hearted soul.

She had even tried to comfort me , though it wasn’t necessary.

She had mistaken my attempts to communicate Blake’s secrets as anger that he had moved on.

To be fair, she wasn’t far off, but not in the way she’d assumed.

He wasn’t allowed to move on. He wasn’t allowed to get a new wife and live his picket-fence dream while the rest of us suffered beneath the crushing weight of his secrets.

He was leading a double life, and I would crack that fucking mask if it was the last thing I did.

So the fact that he was cleaning, actively freshening the place up, and even lighting a scented candle on the coffee table (I could smell it now, and it was some horrible, bland vanilla scent that was more cardboard and chemicals than sweet), was disconcerting to say the least.

What the fuck was he doing? Was he expecting company?