Braden and I exchanged looks of disbelief. Did Emmet really not remember or was he playing a game?
I allowed the bruja mask to drop. “What do we do with him?”
“Take him to my father,” Braden replied simply. “That’s the only thing we can do.”
Six
Braden had me drive back to Grimlock Manor. He didn’t trust his grandfather in the back seat alone. The conversation was stilted, but what became rapidly apparent was that Emmet wasn’t himself — and he couldn’t remember the last few years. He remembered Braden as a twenty-something punk with attitude.
“Where is Mary?” he asked as I parked in front of Grimlock Manor. “Is she inside?”
I glanced over my shoulder, meeting Braden’s troubled gaze. Mary was dead. She’d been killed weeks ago. I didn’t want to be the one to break the news to him.
“Let’s see Dad,” Braden suggested as he hopped out of the vehicle. He circled to the other side to help his grandfather out. I had a feeling he wanted to be close in case Emmet decided to attack.
“I must see Mary,” Emmet insisted at the front door. “I don’t feel ... myself.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” Braden pushed open the door and ushered Emmet inside.
The Grimlock patriarch scowled. “I’ve always hated these statues,” he complained, peering at the nearest lion. “What do lions have to do with being a reaper?”
“I think Dad just likes them,” Braden replied. “I know that Aisling and Jerry enjoyed dressing them up when they were kids.”
“That’s because your sister is a heathen. And that friend of hers? I can’t believe your father lets her associate with him. Do you know what he is?”
Braden’s eyes narrowed. “A very good person.”
“He’s a homosexual.”
Braden gripped his grandfather’s arm tighter. “You might want to watch what you say. You won’t be the most popular person in this house right now.”
Emmet’s tone was dismissive. “Homosexuals are a scourge.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s you,” I muttered as I pushed past Braden. I was already at my limit with Emmet.
It was still early, but the sun was breaking the horizon, and I wasn’t surprised to see Cormack heading down the stairs as we entered the foyer. His first response was surprise — none of his children were early risers by choice, with the possible exception of Cillian — and it was obvious he was confused that we would be out so early.
Then he saw his father.
“What the ... ?” Cormack took the last five steps at a run, his eyes wild. “What is he doing here?”
“It’s kind of a long story,” Braden replied, dragging a hand through his hair.
“I had a dream that Emmet was going to walk back through the gate. We went to check and he was there,” I volunteered.
“I guess it wasn’t that long a story after all.” Braden shot me a sheepish grin. “He’s claiming memory problems.”
The statement was enough to have Emmet stand straighter. “I don’t have memory problems. I’m fit as a fiddle. Just ask my doctor. Or, better yet, ask your mother, Cormack. Where is she? I want to know why she left me in that place.”
It was rare that Cormack looked as if he didn’t have a clue what to do. “I ... um ... .”
“What’s for breakfast?” Emmet demanded. “I’m starving.”
“Breakfast isn’t for another hour,” Cormack replied dumbly.
“Well, then I guess I should clean up.” Emmet spared himself a glance in the mirror. “This is undignified. I assume you will be punishing your offspring accordingly.”
Cormack snapped to attention. “Why would I punish my children?”
“This one has obviously played a prank on me.” He jerked his thumb toward Braden. “How else do you explain how I ended up in that unholy place?”
I had so many questions. Before I could ask a single one, though, Cormack took control of the situation.
“Fine. Let’s get you upstairs and settled in a room.” Cormack’s gaze was grave as it locked with Braden’s befuddled stare. “Make sure there are omelets on the menu for breakfast, please.”
Braden nodded.
“With morels,” Emmet demanded. “I want morels.”
“Morels are out of season,” Cormack replied. “You’ll have to make do with regular mushrooms.”
“That is ridiculous.”
I was breathless as I watched Cormack lead Emmet upstairs, waiting until I was certain they were out of earshot to speak. “What do you think?”
“Something very weird is going on,” Braden replied.
I shot him a dirty look. “Oh, really? Is that your expert opinion?”
His grin was fast and flirty. “If you go upstairs and start the shower, I’ll show you what else I’m an expert on. We both need a jolt to get us back to some semblance of normal. I just have to stop in the kitchen long enough to relay Dad’s orders.”
“What do you think the rest of your family is going to say?”
Braden shrugged. “I guarantee it won’t be anything nice.”
AISLING WAS THE FIRST ONE DOWN the stairs. She had a wriggling Lily in her arms and looked well rested, which was a relief after the previous day. I didn’t know how long her good mood would last, however, given the bomb that was about to drop on the family.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as Braden handed me a glass of orange juice.
“I got ten hours of sleep. I’m glorious.” Aisling automatically handed Lily to Braden when he held out his arms. “She woke me, but it’s okay. I thought Dad was going to get her this morning but, honestly, nothing can ruin this mood.”
“Yeah, you might want to temper your enthusiasm,” Braden said as he swung Lily around. Seeing him with his niece always made me go warm all over. He absolutely adored her. Of course, they all loved the baby, to the point she would likely grow up to be a monster. That was a worry for another day.
“Why do you say that?” Aisling went to the juice cart and poured two glasses, handing one to Griffin as he made his way into the room.
“I’m feeding the baby this morning,” Griffin announced. “She’s getting fruit. I saw it on that menu your dad had laminated. I want to give her something she likes so she doesn’t associate me with Brussels sprouts the rest of her life.”
Aisling nodded. “You’ve earned it.”
Griffin leaned in and gave her a kiss. He looked remarkably relaxed as well. “Thank you. You’re such a good wife.”
“And don’t you forget it.” Aisling turned back to Braden. “What do you think is going to ruin my mood?”
“Well ... .” Braden swung Lily around again. It was obvious he was struggling to explain what had happened. Ultimately, it didn’t matter, because right at that moment a loud voice in the hallway outside the dining room invaded our tranquil morning.
“I still can’t believe you can’t get morels for your own father, Cormack. You’re wealthy enough to purchase anything ... other than acceptable children, and even then I’m certain you could find some poor people to negotiate with. Just start all over from scratch.”