The Sword and the Scythe

Chapter 15: Come Together

The first picture on the next page showed Leroy sitting in a leather booth with none other than the Beatles. Her jaw dropped open as she pulled the album up closer to get a better look. There were several photos of them together. He had photos alongside them as clean-cut kids from Liverpool and long-haired hippies with joints tucked between their fingers. She couldn't believe that bastard hadn't told her he'd met the Beatles—not when he knew they'd been her favorite band since she was a kid. She was so going to hassle him about this.

The stairs creaked as Leroy shuffled downstairs. Charlotte looked over her shoulder, her stomach making a weird flipping motion at the sight of his unkempt bed head and the seductive way his hips swung when he walked. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen and slumped onto the couch beside her, grimacing and lighting a cigarette.

"What're you looking at?"

She tilted the photo album toward him. "I can't believe you knew the Beatles."

He sucked on his cigarette and said, "Yeah, we used to hang out and play together."

Charlotte tucked one leg up and under her and shifted to look at Leroy. "That is so freaking cool." Leroy nodded, distracted by his cigarette. "You're a history major's dream. You've been around for everything. God you're old."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not that old."

"You're right. I'm sorry. One hundred and thirty-something is the new twenty. My bad."

"Laugh all you want, but I'm the youngest Grim around. You should see some of the old coots making camp in the European Alliance. The last time some of them were alive, the plague was killing their friends."

"Damn that's so cool."

Leroy rolled his eyes at her again. "Be more of a nerd."

"What is the European Alliance?"

"It's one of the fun little cliques other Grims like to make."

"Are there are a lot of...Grim cliques?"

"Just the three...but it's three too many if you ask me."

"I'm guessing you've met them then."

A scowl came over his face. "Wish I hadn't, but yeah."

"I'm sensing some resentment there."

Rolling his eyes, he pushed himself off the couch and moved to the piano in the corner. He fingered the keys, playing absent-mindedly as he answered, "Let's just say I don't get along with any of those stuffy old bastards. They all think I'm trash and an affront to the 'Great Grim Tradition' or some shit like that."

Charlotte wanted to ask him a few more questions to unpack that statement, but she saw the way he hung his head, his fingers tumbling over the ivory keys. If he didn't want to elaborate about the other Grims, she wasn't going to press him about it.

The next group of photos were from the 1920s, and Charlotte was a little surprised to find Leroy wearing the bulky ring in those photos too. The large ring dwarfed his hand with the carved lions on the side and the dark jewel on top. She flipped back to the first pages of the album and inspected the photos of Leroy in the eighties and nineties. The ring was nowhere in sight. "Hey, Leroy, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What's with this big ugly ring?"

"It belonged to my father."

"Oh. Is it a family heirloom or something?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I never met him. My mom gave it to me when I was a kid. It was the only thing I had of his—no name, no photo. Just that ugly ring."