Page 123 of Like Grim Death: Part One
Was it last night? What istoday?
I sway a little and lean into the wall, the doorframe of my son’s room. I place both palms against it, and I want to cry out for Lucifer, but it’s like my tongue is sandpaper in my mouth and speaking seems impossible.
Is this a dream?
The figure steps closer, the floorboards creaking beneath him. The damask wallpaper seems to spin, colliding into strange shapes of blue hues, like a film’s filter.
The figure takes another step, and I see his eyes. They’re similar to mine, but not the same. A darker gray, circled with a light brown. His bone structure is skeletal, and he’s wearing all black, but his shoes are high tops, solid midnight blue with black laces.
He has his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, and he tilts his head as he stares at me.
I feel like I’m falling.
My knees tremble, and I sink down to the floor, the hardwoods sharp beneath my knees. I shift my body, so I’m blocking Rain’s room completely. There’s a knife strapped to my thigh, and with shaky fingers, I reach for the hilt, but I don’t pull it from the sheath. I’m in shorts, a long T-shirt with holes, and my fingers graze over the skin on my thigh as I stare up at the man, coming closer.
Is this real? Am I awake?
“You’re scared of me.” The man speaks. His voice is deceptively soft, but it’s like he wants to beckon me closer.
I don’t move, sitting back on my calves in front of my son’s room, my fingers still on the hilt of my knife.
He steps closer until he’s only a couple of feet from me, his shadow cast over me on the floor, dim lights in the ceiling glowing blue, they’re motion lights. I swear I’ve seen them flicker on the past couple of nights, even when Lucifer and Rain are soundly sleeping in their beds.
Luce said I was imagining it. That I needed more sleep.
Now, I’m not so sure.
My nipples tighten and press against my shirt as the man keeps staring at me. I feel the ache in my breasts, throbbing beneath my skin. Something warm leaks from my left one, and I swear the man’s gray eyes drop there, to my chest.
I hold my breath tightly inside my lungs, like I’m holding the hilt of my knife.
“Why are you scared?” he whispers, his plush lips circling the words carefully, like he’s unfamiliar with them. He has an accent, but it’s faint. Russian, but it sounds like it’s mixed with something from the southern U.S. It’s strange but not unpleasant to my ears.
Slowly, he drags his eyes back up to my face.
“I won’t hurt you, you know.” He shakes his head once, his pale skin seeming to glow in the night. “That’s not what I’m here for.”
My gaze finds the thin red circle tattooed around his neck. Did it just appear? He takes one more step closer, and he walks oddly. Like he’s in pain.
Am I losing my mind? Is this a dream?
“Then why are you here?” I force the words out and they scrape up my throat, rough and sharp.
He smiles, his cheekbones lifting.
Shivers slide over my body. It feels like I’ve walked through a ghost, cold and clingy. “You’ll find out,” he whispers softly, like a caress. “You and I have lived very similar pasts, Sid Rain.”
I stiffen at the surname, but don’t correct him.
“We could be friends, you know.” So soft spoken, it’s almost enough to want to care for him. To hug him, put my hands into his wild, wavy hair, growing out rather than down.
But I’m not stupid. I’ve been in this world far too long to give in to a pretty voice and a soft smile. “I don’t make friends easily.” There’s an edge to my words, but it almost feels like I’m speaking underwater. I sway, even on my knees, and I have to lean against the doorway.
Everything seems to wave around me, the walls, the floors.
My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton and my eyes are so, so heavy.
The man laughs, and it’s light and delicate. “Do you want to go back to bed?”
