Reckless Read online

  The last had seemed ridiculously hard for him to get out as he encompassed the room with a flick of his hand.

  “Strange people?” she asked, still feeling woozy and like she couldn’t take a proper breath.

  “To a place that has doctors who know about people like you. People with... abilities.” He jerked his head, and his movements were growing angry, slightly erratic. “I didn’t want to believe any of this. Didn’t want to trust her. Your mother warned me never to trust her, never to hear a word she said, but... I can no longer deny that—”

  More confused than she thought possible, Flint cocked her head. “Mama warned you about Katy?”

  “What?” He grimaced. “No. I’m talking about your grandmother.”

  As if on cue, the hospital door opened and in stepped a woman who looked like she had one foot in the grave. Her hair was gray. But to call it that didn’t do it justice. The stuff gleamed like silver, and it was caught up in a neat bun on the back of her head.

  She was short, even shorter than Flint’s five-foot-five-inch frame. But there was a regalness to her bearing that hinted at a woman of power. And though she walked with a cane and her hands were covered in liver spots, her blue eyes were as arresting and hypnotic as they must have been in her youth.

  A strange buzzing noise rang in her ears, and for a second Flint panicked that maybe the queen had come back to get her, to snatch her away for real this time, but then the old woman smiled and the cold look of it shot chills down her spine.

  “Hello, Flint child. ’Tis good to finally meet ya. Ye may call me Grace.”

  As if meeting the woman who was rumored to steal Flint’s soul wasn’t bad enough, an apparition of a man suddenly materialized beside her.

  There were really no words for how freaked out she totally was.

  To see an empty space of air suddenly fill up with the image of a man unlike any Flint had ever seen before.

  He was tall. Six foot, maybe taller. His hair was brown. He wore a suit and tie, but that was by far not the strangest thing about him.

  No, the strangest thing was his eyes.

  Tricolored. She’d never thought such a thing possible, but if glowing red eyes could be real, then why not these?

  Red. Green. And Blue.

  Too shocked to speak, Flint looked to her father who sat unmoving, his eyes closed and his face as white as a sheet of paper.

  “Can someone please tell me what in the heck is going on here!” She shrieked, beyond a little terrified now.

  Why hadn’t a nurse or doctor run in here yet? Her pulse was through the roof, her blood pressure at dangerously high levels. There should be klaxons and alarms going crazy out there, and yet no one was rushing in. No one even seemed to care.

  A ghost of a smile stretched Grace’s crinkly lips. “Well, love, I’m your grandmother. And this”—she pointed to the scary sexy mutant of a man beside her—“is Dean. But known in most circles as Death. One of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and well, I have quite a tale to tell.”

  She wanted to pass out. Her brain was certainly wonky enough to do it, but one stern look from her grandmother and suddenly the idea seemed less than smart.

  “I would not do that if I were you, love. You’re made of much sterner stuff than that. Now, chin up and listen well.” Moving slowly, Grace shuffled over toward the plush green chair in the corner of the room.

  Dean helped guide her to it, and once she was comfortably settled, he crossed his arms behind his back. “And so my part is done.”

  “And now?” Grace asked softly, and Flint got the distinct feeling she definitely shouldn’t be listening in on this conversation, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “You’ll hear my terms when I’m in need of them. Until then, my time here is through. There are still many threads to watch for with the Nephilim.”

  “Aye. Pandora will need you for what is to come. Be good to her, Death.”

  Flint didn’t see the smile so much as hear it in his voice when he said, “Aren’t I always?”

  Sneering, Grace seemed not in the slightest bit terrified of the man she’d just called Death. “No. Now leave me be, you ruddy bastard.”

  With a gruff chuckle he dipped his head and then disappeared once again.

  Feeling dizzy and light-headed and more than a little sure that she was still stuck in a coma, and like Alice falling down the rabbit hole had just had an encounter with a talking white rabbit, Flint giggled.

  Grace glowered at her. “I’m glad you find this funny, girl.”

  That sharp remark was as good as ice water to the face.

  No, she was definitely not dreaming. Never in a million years could she have dreamed up Grace.

  “You’ve no idea what you’ve done now. Bloody ’ell.” Grace then turned her gimlet glare on Katy, who seemed to shrink in on herself a little bit. “Fine job you did. Out, the both of you!” She waved her cane to the door. “I need to speak with my granddaughter. Alone.”

  Flint was sure her father would protest, but instead he leaned over and kissed her cheek softly before whispering, “I’m sorry, Flinty. I had no idea.”

  And just like when she’d been five and had tripped and fallen and skinned her knee, she wanted to clutch her daddy’s hand and beg him not to leave her alone with this scary, wild woman who’d just ordered Death around like he’d been nothing more than an annoying door-to-door salesman.

  “Dad?” she squeezed out.

  “It’ll be okay, love.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You’re going to want to hear what she has to say.”

  Then with a nod of his head in the direction of the old, regal lioness, he took Katy’s hand in his and walked out of the room.

  She swallowed hard; thankfully she didn’t have to wait long for Grace to say something.

  “Fine kettle of fish this is.” Grace rolled her eyes, fingers gripping the cane harder.

  “I don’t know—”

  “Och, girl.” Grace pinned her with a steely-eyed glare. “Ye most certainly did, dallying as you did with that boy. A berserker.” She spat the word as though offended. “You’ve no idea what you’ve gone and gotten yourself into, and had Katy done her job as I’d told her, none of this would have happened.” She pinched her lips together.

  The accent was growing thicker by the second. At first Flint had thought the woman English or something, but now it was starting to sound stronger, like Irish or maybe even Scottish.

  In the beginning she’d been confused, but now she was scared. Who in the heck was Grace really, and how in the heck did she know so much? Was this even her grandmother? And why wasn’t her dad freaking out about any of this? Especially after seeing some strange guy suddenly appear in her room like a ghost?

  “Well, you can stop your shuddering, girl, I’ve no intention of eating ye.” Huffing, Grace began a rhythmic tapping of her cane on the hospital tile.

  “Eat me?” she squeaked. “Are you a mon...monst—”

  Snarling, she gave Flint a look that, frankly, would have made her run away if she’d not been strapped down to the bed by wires and tubes.

  “A monster. You, with your heightened senses, surely you can tell I’m nothing more than human. Now you, on the other hand.” She eyed Flint from top to bottom, leaving the rest of the thought unspoken.

  “How do you know—”

  “So much?” Grace’s fine brow arched. “Because I’m a high-ranking member of the Order, girl. In fact, what you’ve done has forced me to commit treason, ensuring my defection from the organization. Which I would have done anyway, but now the timetable has jumped forward by several months.”

  “Why?” It seemed like the sensible question to ask since her brain was totally incapable of formulating any questions that sounded smarter than that.

  “Because should they find ye, they’ll either (a) attempt to seduce you into the fold, or (b) and this one is much more likely, kill you. Neither option suits me at the moment
.”

  Neither option suited her at the moment... What? Had her grandmother really just said that to her?

  “You can take that indignant look off yer face; you look entirely too much like Rebecca for my comfort when you have it.”

  It was really hard not to leave her mouth hanging open right now. Her grandmother was a giant spitfire that made her as nervous as a surprise pop quiz in chem class.

  “Okay.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Back up. Why isn’t my dad freaking out? Was that really Death?” Just saying it made her shiver. “And since I’ve met you, does this mean I’m gonna lose my soul now?”

  With each word spoken, Grace’s scowl had turned deeper and deeper, like someone sucking on the world’s sourest lemon. Until the last bit. Her eyes widened, she tossed her head back, and a peal of laughter that probably shook the rafters three rooms down came pouring out of her.

  The woman was decrepit-looking, and yet she acted like someone half her age.

  “Lose yer soul, that’s rich. And I suppose”—she knuckled tears out of her eyes—“that that would be Becca’s doing, no doubt. That girl always was dramatic. Then again...” Her gaze turned distant, as though she was recalling a long-forgotten memory. “She married your father and joined the circus, so all things considered, I’m not surprised. Child, meeting me would alter nothing. Ye never had a soul. No fae does.”

  No fae does? What the bleep bleep bleep?

  Yeah, bleeping out the cussing in her own head was probably a sign that she’d lost a couple of brain cells, but her father’s words of “Flint, act like a lady” rang in her ears even as she wanted to pass out from the shock of hearing she had no soul. No soul?

  The thought made her want to cry.

  Her stomach began to do a leaping somersault inside her, twisting and gripping with a sudden need for food of any sort. Jerking her chin toward the bedside nightstand, Grace said, “I had your father buy you a box of cream pies for when you eventually woke up.”

  Frowning, wondering all over again just what in the heck her grandmother was, Flint reached questing fingers for the drawer. A relieved, cooing sigh spilled from her tongue as she greedily snatched three of the individually wrapped pies and set them on her thigh, determined not to believe a word of this no-soul nonsense. Mom had warned her many times that her grandmother wasn’t all right in the head. Which was why her parents had never taken her to visit Grandma Grace.

  Ever.

  She’d barely ripped the first package open before she was cramming it into her mouth. But even though it was sweet and delicious, she couldn’t hide her scowl.

  “What?” Grace asked cautiously.

  Glancing up, Flint debated whether to say anything at all but finally decided that if she didn’t ask, she’d go nuts.

  “I have to have a soul. I had an out-of-body experience.” The moment she said it, Grace shook her head. Which confused Flint more.

  “Yes, I did. I saw myself lying on the ground and—”

  “No. I know that to you, that’s what it must have felt like. In truth, it’s more like metaphysics. An abstract construct of being. It is not a true out-of-body experience in that your soul watches your body, but rather the earth magick that lives and breathes with the very fabric of the universe through you.”

  “What?” She shook her head, feeling like a giant idiot.

  “In layman’s terms, it’s part of the magick of your people.”

  “I’m not a fairy,” she hissed, feeling unnaturally angered by the thought.

  “Oh, my dear, you very much are. Though your kind is more naturally associated with elves than Tinker Bell.”

  “I don’t believe you. That doesn’t even make sense. I’d have known if I was—”

  “A monster?” Grace’s lipped thinned. “Well, yes, you would have if your mother hadn’t decided to ban me from ever seeing you.”

  The mere mention of her mother had Flint’s palms growing clammy. “Don’t talk about my mom that way.”

  “Oh, my darling,” Grace said softly, “if there were anyone on this earth that loved her more than you did, it would be me. But yes, your mother did you a great disservice.”

  She didn’t want to hear any more, and yet... curiosity would kill her before the night was through if she didn’t. Cramming a second pie into her mouth, she didn’t even need to ask Grace to tell her more because somehow her estranged grandmother already knew.

  “First.” Grace held up a finger. “I talk. You listen. You have questions, you wait till I’m done. Got that?”

  If she hadn’t been half-starved, Flint might have considered protesting, but it so wasn’t worth it when Bavarian cream pies waited. She would listen. Whether she actually believed any of this nonsense remained to be seen. Nodding politely, Flint waited for Grace to continue.

  “Good.” Setting her mouth into a prim line, her grandmother began. “I was a rather attractive woman in my youth.”

  This was how she started the story? Flint couldn’t help lifting a brow, but her grandmother turned that scowl on her, and she wisely chose to keep her trap shut.

  “In fact, you look much as I once did. Which is why you’ll never go to Ireland.”

  Flint finally swallowed. She wasn’t sure she’d even tasted the thing. Grace didn’t act stunned by the rapidity with which she’d inhaled it. The no weirded-out looks scored Granny a few points.

  Wide, flat teeth grinned back at her. “Ye’d be catnip for them, I’d imagine.” Leaning back, Grace took a deep breath, looking like someone settling in for story time. “They call them the Tuatha Dé Danann, or Sidhe. Pronounced shee.” She gave a prim nod. “Whichever you prefer.”

  Suddenly Flint suffered a flashback. A Tinker Bell shirt her grandmother had gifted her years ago, a package sent in the mail with no letter and no return address. “You know, the wand on the boob thing was kind of annoying.”

  Grace snorted, clearly understanding the reference. “I found the irony too hard to resist.”

  It was hard not to ask questions because she had about a million of them, but Grace had her nose in the air and was clearly not in the mood to be interrupted.

  “It was the night of the wild hunt, and I was out past curfew.” A titter that made her sound a lot like a sixteen year old spilled off her grandmother’s tongue. “I should not ’ave been where I was, but”—she shrugged—“the willfulness of youth. I saw him. He saw me. It was lust at first sight.”

  Nose curling, Flint groaned. “Gross.”

  Pursing her lips, her grandmother’s face grew stern once again. “Well, it certainly wasn’t love, dear. And I had no idea the glorious man with shining strawberry locks standing nude inside the dilapidated castle was a fae, or you can bet your fanny I’d have hied meself away from there quick as a will-o’-the-wisp blinks.” She snapped her fingers. “But I didn’t. And I regret none of it. Though to be fair, life was difficult for a young girl my age with no husband to call her own and a bastard child brewin’ in her belly.”

  Wow. Mom had literally never told her any of this. She’d oftentimes called Grandma an eccentric with borderline schizophrenic tendencies. But there was nothing about the woman sitting in front of her that would lead her to believe she was nuts. Not with the things Flint now knew lived and breathed in this world.

  “Bad enough havin’ a bastard. If the rest of my village had discovered the child was also half fae... Well, there would have been cries of changeling and torches and pitchforks in the streets. Times have changed so much, but there are still many places in Ireland that hold fast to the old ways and beliefs, and my village was definitely one of them. Once the veil of truth had been ripped off my eyes, I could no longer deny that I lived in a world full of evil and creatures we’d always been told were little more than superstition. That was when the Order came knocking at my door. I had a child. No money. But I knew the truth, and I was made a proposition. Come join them and gain protection for my child, or kill off the babe. The choice wasn’t a diff
icult one.”

  “Kill off,” she squeaked. “How could they? Why would they? Mom was a baby! What could she have possibly done?”

  “Och.” Grace held up a finger, probably more irritated by her interruptions than her defense of her mother.

  “Fae magick is perilous magick, dear. If a child is born outside the land of fairy possessing those skills, can ye imagine how cracked things could become? The one rule of the Order is to keep people like your mother hidden from the sheep. We had no choice but to leave Ireland immediately.”

  Sheep. She almost laughed at the analogy, because yes, in a lot of ways people were sheep. They liked to be in nice and neat little groups where nothing bad existed, where they could just stand in a field, bleating and munching on sweet grass until the day they keeled over dead, always blissfully unaware and willfully ignorant of the truth. Just like she’d been when she’d thought the glowing red eyes were car lights.

  But she’d eventually realized the truth, and it hadn’t been as bad accepting the facts as she once might have thought it would be. And now she’d never want to unknow it.

  “But why? Why is it so dangerous for people to know that berserkers and demons and fairies exist? They’ve lived among us forever, and the world is still turning.”

  Grace’s laughter was soft and snuffly, and it brought a fierce pang to Flint’s chest because in that moment she could see her mother. See what she would have become if she’d lived to become a grandmother herself. She bit her tongue to keep the heat welling behind her eyes at bay.

  “You accepted it, Flint, because you’re special.” She snorted. “When I told Frank the truth, he very nearly took an axe down to that carnival. Even knowing what he knows, knowing he’s no match even to the least of them. Fear is a cancer, and it can turn even the most sane among us into something wild and rabid if they let it infect them long enough.”

  She shrugged. “And for all that the Order has their problems, they have done the world a lot of good. Things are good now, Flint, but they were not so in years past. Even a hundred years ago we had monsters running wild through the streets. Most of the fairy tales you know of aren’t entirely lies. Werewolves, creatures that go bump in the night eating unsuspecting humans, it really happened. Human savvy and being smart enough to learn the weaknesses of those monsters was what finally turned the tide so that we could live side by side peacefully. The Order set rules in place. And though some of them are... difficult to comprehend—”