Scourge: A Grim Doyle Adventure

Chapter 3

Grim stood at the top of the staircase. Rudy and the others were all hanging in the doorway of his room. The twins were jumping up and down.

Grim looked down to Aunt Patrice who waited on his delayed response.

My dads are coming home?

It was the middle of the day. They were never home this early.

“O-O-Okay,” he finally said.

His Aunt marched up the stairs in a frenzy. Grim looked to Rudy, panicked.

Immediately the others scattered, each to their own rooms.

Whew.

Aunt Patrice would know something was up if she caught them congregating in his room.

Grim lingered for a moment, unsure of whether to go to his room, but stopped when he heard a noise — something from the kitchen.

He walked towards the sound and found the place littered with junk ― balls scattered about, trinkets and gizmos from Poppa’s workshop were strewn everywhere, and a myriad of toys were sprawled all over the floor.

Sam sat by the door, giggling. Now that he realized it, Sam hadn’t been in the bedroom with the others. But how he had managed to make this kind of mess in such a short time was almost worthy of a medal.

“Aw, come on Sam, look at this mess,” Grim muttered. “What are you doing?”

Sam pushed his glasses up his little nose and giggled.

Grim moaned. If this mess was left out Grim knew his Aunt would tell him to clean it. He looked up the stairs. Rudy watched him. She said nothing.

See if she ever makes Rudy clean up.

So while Grim scoured the kitchen for stray toys, drawers slammed upstairs, and his Aunt talked aloud to herself as she stomped about her room. And although talking aloud to herself was quite common for Aunt Patrice, stomping about was not.

Not long into gathering up the loose items, Aunt Patrice summoned him from upstairs.

“Grimwald!”

Grim sighed and put the loose items in a box and strode to the bottom of the staircase.

“Yes, Aunt Patrice!”

“Please get the others and wait in the front room. Your parents should be here shortly.”

Grim called for the others and they came tromping into the front room, all but Rudy. She took her sweet time.

They all crammed into the small room with its blue walls and off-white trim. They didn’t have to wait long before Dad swept through the door. As he came rushing in, he almost knocked over the grandfather clock in the foyer. It hissed and whirred as it almost reached the hour.

“Where’s Patrice?” he asked in a strong tone that Grim rarely ever heard. His head nearly bumped the archway and his forehead was creased with worry, his usually neat brown hair askew.

“Upstairs,” Grim responded.

The man leapt up the stairs three at a time and Grim could barely overhear some low, hurried talk. More doors slammed and drawers closed.

Then Poppa appeared in the archway of the room. He was shorter than Dad. In his solid arms he held an armful of gadgets.

“Are you all right?” he asked, looking at each of them. Concern sat deep within his usually soft brown eyes.