I watched, a twitch in my eye as my grandfather hovered a hand behind my girl’s back. My girl who looked cheesed to the fucking nines to be in his presence. Grandpa Prinze smiled at her. “Yes, tell him everything worked out.” He placed that smile on me. “He was quite worried once I told him everything. I was at the house with him when Sloane called me.”
I swallowed, saying nothing.
Grandpa Prinze nodded at Sloane. “Don’t worry about Dorian and myself. I’m sure we’ll find something to talk about while you’re gone.”
I was sure we would, my body stiff as a goddamn board in the old man’s presence.
I suddenly found myself very relieved to be in a police station. There were at least a dozen cops here, all fucking strapped.
Not that it would matter.
My grandfather stood in front of me resurrected, alive when he shouldn’t be.
I knew because I had stood over the body.
I’d been the grim reaper not long ago, and apparently, this old fuck had nine lives. Sloane touched my arm before she left, and it took all I had in me to not react to anything happening to me at the present. I didn’t want to show that I was thoroughly shaken, especially in front of the man I’d attempted to kill.
I couldn’t show my cards.
If Grandfather could tell I was thrown by his presence, he didn’t act like it. He simply watched Sloane go, as I did. She took a corner of the police station to continue with her call, one away from the doors and cops moving in and out of them with perps. Once there, she proceeded to take her call with her brother, and that was when my grandfather turned in my direction. His jeweled cane shifted under his hand, and when he made a step in my direction, I flinched.
The corners of his lips lifted, his smile a small one. It was almost coy as he lifted his chin. “Are you all right, son?” he questioned, his poker face a good one. He was acting as if him standing here was the most normal of occurrences. His head lowered. “You seem to have some nerves going about you.”
Well, that happened when one saw a fucking ghost.
I eyed the area, studied Sloane. She was waving at me now, grinning, but my reaction to that wasn’t much.
I was in too much fucking shock.
In any case, she went back to her call, and I faced the old man who’d called me son again. I pocketed my hands, my throat tight. “Nerves happen when you see ghosts.”
This man should be dead, point-blank, and though it shouldn’t have been, offing the fucker had been the hardest thing I’d had to do. I wasn’t a killer. I was a good son, an honorable one my father and mother raised, and as dark as some shit had been in my life, it’d never crossed my mind to kill someone. Even my worst enemies.
The old man had brought the devil out of me, the monster within. I’d done what needed to happen. I had to in order to protect my family.
He’d threatened my mother.
That very fact lingered between us now as we stood here today. The old man drew his fingers down a smooth jawline.
“Yes, well.” His hand returned to his cane. “My doctors assure me I have a clean bill of health.” His head tilted. “If anything, they tell me I’ve never been stronger after more recent events in my life. I am stronger, and you’d best know that, understand it.”
A threat laced there beyond his words, and not on the subtle side.
How was he alive?
I’d poisoned the old man’s tea in the end, a bitch move, but I’d never had to consider doing such a thing before.
Murder and darkness were only reserved for the most vile monsters in my world, ones like this man who stood before me today. In a single act, he’d made me a monster too, but I obviously hadn’t done the job well enough. Someone must have found him after I’d watched him choke on his own bile. He’d had another one of those funky-ass cigars in his hand when he’d fallen off his chair.
I’d left after he’d hit the floor, not staying for the final result. I’d just wanted to get the fuck out of there. His servants had had the day off that morning, a big reason I’d chosen it. I hadn’t needed anyone knowing what I was doing.
I’d even wiped the security cameras.
Upon leaving, I recalled wishing that cigar in his hand would burn down the house with him inside, and I wished I could say it was because I wanted him and the evidence of my presence in his home burned. That’d been far from the reason.
I’d wanted him to burn, and that was when I knew something had changed in me. I’d come full circle. I had crossed a line I couldn’t come back from when it came to my life. My grandfather had made me a murderer, as deep and as dark as some of the shit I’d heard he’d done in the past. The difference was I’d done what I had beyond purely selfish reasons.
At least, that was what I told myself.