Grim Ambition Read online

  “Just...it was nothing special. Worked. Be right back.”

  “Told you he’s been weird.” Cassie nudged him once Shawn assumed his brother had left.

  “Nothing strange so far. Just typical cranky Jax.”

  Moments later, he heard the familiar sound of a beer bottle thudding in front of him.

  “IPA,” Jaxon’s voice said. “Drink up.”

  “Thanks, man.” Shawn inched his hand along the table until his fingers bumped the glass bottle. Ice cold liquid coursed down his throat as he took a long swallow of the alcohol.

  “What about you, Cassie? What did you do today?”

  “Took the day off. I needed a good night’s sleep.” She laughed. “Hell, I didn’t get up until eleven. It’s so nice being back in my own bed.”

  “So sorry the air mattress wasn’t good enough.” Jaxon snapped.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know. Whatever.”

  “Jax, slow down.” Cassie’s voice held concern. Shawn heard his brother belch, then his chair scraped and the blur that was his brother moved away.

  “The hell?”

  “He just chugged the entire beer,” she said. “Now he’s back at the bar.”

  “All right. Now I’m getting worried. He never drinks heavily.”

  “Told you.”

  “What’s he ordering?”

  “Uh...looks like another beer and...oh, dammit, he got us shots.”

  Shawn sat in quiet contemplation, wondering what had his brother so upset. Was it me? Could I have underestimated how worried he gets when I’m out as Grim?

  Jaxon returned, saying, “Hold out your hand,” over a sudden swell of raucous laughter from nearby. Shawn obliged, and felt the smoothness of a heavy shot glass in his fingers. He inhaled and recoiled slightly.

  “Oh, Jax, tequila? Don’t you remember how blacked out we were the last time?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Well, cheers, then. I know we all needed a night out after the last couple of weeks.” Shawn hefted the glass in his fingers, slick with spilled liquid, and threw the tequila back. The lukewarm alcohol slid down his throat in a fast burn. He swallowed, then gagged slightly.

  “Holy shit, that was awful,” Jaxon said as he choked out a laugh.

  “Please, never do that again. No more surprise shots. Ever.” Shawn cleared his throat. “Now I just want some water.” He could still feel the sting of the tequila, all the way down into his stomach.

  “Hey,” Cassie said in a hushed tone. “There are two guys at the bar that keep looking over here. Have been since we got here.”

  “They just think you’re cute.” Jaxon burped quietly.

  “I don’t know, they don’t look like the typical people I attract.”

  “Describe them,” Shawn requested.

  “Well.” Cassie paused. “One’s older, maybe in his fifties. Has a greying beard. The other is black. He looks like he’s in his forties.”

  “What type of guy do you normally attract?” Jaxon’s voice held obvious sarcasm.

  “Maybe we should head to a different bar,” Cassie said. “They’re creeping me out.”

  “I want another round or two before leaving.”

  Shawn frowned. “Jax, come on. If Cassie’s upset, we shouldn’t force her to stay around these guys.”

  “Whatever. Fine. Let’s go.” Jaxon’s chair scraped again and he walked away.

  “What an ass. I’m sorry Cassie.”

  “It’s not your fault, Shawn. Come on.” She took him by the elbow and they left the bar, stepping into the cool night air.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “Let’s cross the street,” Cassie said. Her hand rested on Shawn’s arm, leading him away from The Ruffian. As they neared the other side of the street, the sound of a slowly approaching car washed over them, and Shawn heard his brother breathe in sharply.

  “Jax? What is it?” He felt the curb as he approached the sidewalk. Stepping up, his nose wrinkled on its own at the smell of someone’s cigarette invading his nostrils. Cassie muttered “excuse me” multiple times as she attempted to get Shawn past a throng of people.

  “Nothing.” Jaxon’s voice was unsteady, but firm.

  “Hey.” Shawn came to a stop, Cassie still next to him. “What’s going on with you, dude? You okay?”

  “Sure am.”

  “Lies.”

  “Shawn, I’m fine. Can we just get inside?”

  “No, look.” Shawn crossed his arms. His body had begun to tingle as the booze he’d downed began to take hold, mixing with the two beers he’d had at home earlier. “Something’s been going on with you lately, man. I know I’ve been busy, but I’ve still noticed.”

  “Please, can we just get inside? Nothing is wrong.” Before he could say another word, Jaxon’s hand closed on Shawn’s forearm in a tight grip, and he was led up to and through a door of another bar.

  “Where are we?” Shawn shouted over the drone of another jukebox’s blare. He groaned to himself. Why is it always country?

  “Topeka Tap.” Jaxon led Shawn through a small crowd near the front of the bar, apologizing as he bumped into someone.

  "Standing room only." Cassie's voice filtered above the hum of conversation and thump of the music, and the three of them settled for a small open area near two unused dartboards.

  "I didn't realize bars were so popular the night before Thanksgiving," Shawn said in a loud voice. The twangy, upbeat song had finally ended, and a hard rock one replaced it, the music so loud they had to lean in and shout at each other to hold a conversation.

  "In-laws," a man said as he passed the three of them. "The longer ya don't have to be around them, th' better." He laughed and continued his journey through the crowded bar. Shawn smiled, which masked the sudden loneliness he felt at the man's comment. He was grateful for his friends, and for the company of Bruce, Jaxon’s dad, who adopted him when they were eleven. Don’t think about it. Otherwise it will just get to you and you’ll get cranky like your brother.

  "Jax, what time are you and Bruce coming by tomorrow?" Shawn asked.

  "He's not here," Cassie said. "He hightailed it to the bar as that man was talking to us."

  "Jeez, he's on a mission to get wasted."

  "Shawn, I'm worried about him." He felt her move up next to him and snake her hand into the crook of his arm, then pulled herself close. Shawn stiffened, and an uncomfortable feeling washed over him. I thought we were over this. He frowned at the touch of her breast on his bicep. Apparently I was wrong.

  "I know. I am, too." He cleared his throat and untangled himself from her. "Cassie, I—"

  "Hold out your hand," Jaxon's voice commanded suddenly from in front of him. With so many people in one small area, Shawn's vision showed nothing but a constant moving blur, and he hadn't noticed when his brother had returned. He stuck out his right hand, and felt the cold, smooth texture of a shot glass.

  "Another one?" Shawn brought the small glass to his nose and sniffed. "At least it isn't tequila again." He laughed, then tossed back the shot. Jameson. The burn that trickled down his insides was worse than the one caused by the tequila earlier, and Shawn scrunched his face. He held the glass out in Jaxon's direction, who took it and instantly replaced the empty glass with a full one, slick on the sides.

  "Jaxon, what the hell? I'd like to remember the night, man. No more shots after this, okay?” Besides, a superhero should keep his head about him.

  "Yeah, sure.” Shawn heard Jaxon cough, and realized he had already downed his second shot. With an internal sigh, Shawn followed suit. Seconds passed as the harsh liquid found its way to his belly, and a short wave of nausea kicked in.

  "Hey, guys?" Cassie spoke up.

  "What’s up?" Shawn's face was still contorted, and his head had begun to give him the illusion that the room was spinning. "Can we sit down? I think my body's pissed at me right now."

  "Shawn, we have to go," she hissed in his ear.
He felt her fingers dig into his bicep, her nails sharp.

  "What's wrong?"

  "They're here. Those men followed us."

  "From the other bar? Jaxon?"

  "He went back for more drinks."

  "Go get him."

  "What about you?"

  "I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence. Just...stop Jax from getting anything else. We can go somewhere else, call a cab, okay?" Shawn felt the nausea heighten while he stood with his back against the hard wall of the bar. His head still spun. He unfolded his walking stick and listened to the noises that surrounded him. The jukebox had changed songs again, this time to an 80's one hit wonder that everyone and their grandmother probably knew. He tried to listen around the music to conversations nearby, but it proved impossible.

  Shawn had a sudden thought: What if they’re Vance’s men? Adrenaline burned in his stomach as he waited, making the queasiness worse.

  A hand grabbed his wrist, and he jumped.

  "Just me," Cassie said. "Let's go."

  "Is Jaxon—"

  "I'm here. Come on." He sounded irritated.

  They made their way out of the bar, Cassie in front, leading Shawn by a hand. Jaxon brought up the tail. The trio flagged down a cab, and minutes later stepped onto the sidewalk outside of a bar that oozed thumping music.

  “Where are we?”

  “Some dance club called Sway. It’s new.” Cassie pulled Shawn toward the noise.

  "Hey, I actually might head back home," he said as another wave of nausea kicked him in the stomach. "I'm not feeling too hot."

  "Oh, come on. Afraid of a big crowd?”

  “Afraid of being fed more shots.”

  “You can always say no.” Jaxon scoffed.

  “Fine, but after this, I’m out.” Shawn reached forward, gripping his brother’s shoulder as he was led inside.

  Within moments of their entrance, he was jostled into first Jaxon, then strangers, then back into Jaxon again, who was yelling at Cassie to slow down. Shawn couldn't see anything but a dark, fuzzy blur that was randomly accentuated by a bright flash of pure white light. The unwanted movements, loud noises, and now painful bursts of illuminations nearly sent Shawn into a panic. His stomach was doing jumping jacks, the sickness he felt earlier surged, and a sweat broke out on his forehead.

  As they struggled through the throng of warm bodies, Shawn tried to suppress the goosebumps dotting his arms. We were just being paranoid. Vance wouldn’t send men after me because no one knows who I am. Nonetheless, he tried to walk faster, then stumbled on someone's foot. His adrenaline spiked as his hand slipped off of Jaxon's shoulder as he tried to balance himself and not fall. Shawn reached his hand out again, but his brother was gone. Panic began to settle in his intestines as he stood surrounded by an ever moving mass of people, loud music thumping through his body, flashes of lights hurting his eyes.

  Shawn tried to back out of the crowd, hoping he could press against a far wall. A fog machine must have kicked in; he could smell sweet humidity flood over him. The shrill wail of an electronic instrument began at the exact moment a bright flash lit up his eyes. His stomach lurched, then turned to ice. He felt his mind shudder, then suddenly, the music dropped away, no longer assaulted his ears or thumped through his chest. Bodies disappeared from all around him, and the smell of sweat and alcohol left. Shawn tried to call out, but his body refused to work, and the flashback washed over him as he stood, powerless.

  The white flash of light in the club remained, his sight clearing until he could see - why can I see? - long white tables smeared in blood, walls splattered with the stark contrast of a deep maroon. Shawn's stomach lurched again. He reached up, half expecting to feel the smooth fabric of the Grim mask in his shocked confusion, but his fingertips only brushed the skin of his cheek. Machines lined one wall of the white room he had found himself in. Everything towered above him, and he realized he was down on the floor. A bearded man rushed by him in a sudden flash of movement, and Shawn could see terror in his expression. He shook his head, hair shifting. What’s happening to me? He tried to scream, then hit his fist against his temple, but nothing brought him out of the bloody scene he was witnessing.

  More people ran by, ignoring him as he cowered on the floor near a wall. A darkness began to form at the center of the room, and panicked screams rose.

  "Shawn!" He snapped his head to the right just as a woman fell to her knees next to him. His mind tugged at a memory he couldn’t get to surface. Is this my...?

  "Who—" His words were cut short as she gripped him by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

  "We have to get out of here!" Her eyes were wide, her chest heaved, and she flung a glance back at the dark fog behind her. "Right now!" She shoved him away from danger, toward a door at the back of the room. "We need to get—"

  Her hands slipped away and he whipped around in time to see the familiar woman frozen behind him. Long, thin, dark fingers were wrapped around her throat. Shawn screamed.

  The thunder of his heart grew louder and louder until his vision darkened, and his awareness returned to Sway as the lights cut and the beat dropped. Shawn found himself against a wall with the tangy smell of vomit in his nostrils, shirt heavy against his chest. His gorge rose again and he dry heaved. That really happened. That was a memory. That must have been my mother. That’s how...that’s how she died. But why don’t I fully recognize her? Why didn’t I remember that happening before? What’s wrong with me? Leaning forward, Shawn put his hands on his knees, inhaling a deep breath. The music pounded, people danced, the light began its incessant flashes again. Shawn looked up to see the woman - my mother - back in the lab. He opened his mouth to cry out. Tears were hot on his face and snot ran from his nose as he tried to urge his eleven-year old self to run.

  A demon or some sort of wraith had his mother by the throat. She was choking, gasping for breath as the creature rose up behind her. Shawn took in the undulating mist that made up its form, looked into its gouged out, soulless black eye sockets, and his bladder let go. Warm urine soaked the front of his pants and trickled down the inside of his legs while the black smog began to swirl, first around the wraith, then enveloping his mother as she struggled in its clutches. The twisting fog spun faster and faster, and Shawn backed away until he bumped into the hardness of a blood-smeared wall behind him.

  He watched in horror as the skin of his mother’s face began to bubble, then tear. The same was happening to her hands as she scratched at her throat, her fingers passing through the wraith’s as if nothing was there. Her skin began to peel away. It tore off in long patches, revealing deep red muscle and bright white bone. Her horrified eyes watered in agony. She locked her gaze with Shawn’s, both eyelids already gone, her lips torn away to reveal the perfect, bright teeth she had always been proud of.

  The circumference of the wraith’s spinning mass began to expand, and Shawn turned to run, tears dripping from his eyes. He slipped once, then he was bolting through a hallway, the only sound his ragged breathing.

  The walls and floor of the hallway had less gore than the room he had left, but not by much. Shawn sunk to the tiled floor, head in his hands, and he let out a wail of despair. It was drowned out by the club’s music as he was wrenched out of the vision once again. That darkness, that smudge I’ve been seeing. That was me. It had to have been. Did I...did I kill my mother? Hands grabbed him and he was roughly pulled to his feet, music drowning out his cries.

  “Jesus, man, what happened?” Jaxon’s voice was loud in his ear. Shawn shuddered and pulled himself into his brother’s arms.

  “Cassie, help me get him up. Shawn, look dude, everything’s fine. We’re going to get you home.” Jaxon was talking slowly, but loudly. “Can you stand? Cassie, don’t just stand there, call a fucking cab.”

  Shawn groaned, his eyes darting everywhere, fingers trembling. Chilled air brought him back to reality as they burst through the door and hurried toward a vehicle.

  The drive to S
hawn’s home was spent in absolute silence. None of them responded to the driver’s attempt at small talk after Jaxon had given him their destination. Shawn sat between his friends in the back seat, head tilted forward.

  “Do you...need to go to a doctor or...?” Their driver’s voice held a hint of irritation.

  “We’re fine,” Cassie snapped. She paused, then spoke again in a softer voice. “We just had a rough night, you know? Just have to sleep it off.”

  Once they arrived at Shawn’s house, Cassie and Jaxon led him toward his front door. His head spun and pounded with a fierce headache. The vomit on his shirt had begun to dry, but still emitted a sour stench. He turned his head to the side for a breath of fresh air.

  “Do you need help?" Cassie asked once they had entered Shawn’s living room. He heard her lock his front door behind them.

  "We're fine," Shawn said, his voice low.

  "I'm going to help him clean up. Be right back," Jaxon reassured. He walked with one hand at his brother's elbow. Shawn could feel his touch, but was more focused on the non-stop spinning his head was performing. He was unable to tell if it was from too many shots of harsh alcohol in such a short amount of time, or from the horrors of the vision he’d had at the club. Probably both. He let Jaxon lead him into his bedroom, too dizzy to properly navigate through his own house.

  "At least you only got it on your shirt, man. Nice aim." Jaxon lowered Shawn on the edge of his bed. "Arms up." He pulled the vomit-soaked shirt over Shawn's head. His footsteps were soft on the carpet as he carried it to the bathroom, where he tossed it into the bathtub and twisted the faucet on.

  “Just leave it, dude, it’s fine. I’ll clean it in the morning.”

  “At least this way it won't stink up the entire room overnight.” Jaxon waited a few moments longer, then turned off the bath. His brother’s blur approached.

  "How're you feeling?" Jaxon asked.

  Shawn lifted his head. "Been better."

  "What happened back there?"

  "Sure, I have to tell you, but you don't have to explain what's wrong with you?"