Grimm Tidings: Grimm's Circle, Book 6

by Shiloh Walker

  His hand curled over the back of her neck, and as her stomach clenched, he said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry…?”

  A raised voice drew her attention back to the three on the balcony. It had just been the four of them out there that night—a cool night, and they’d been the last ones in the place, when she’d stormed off.

  Right after slapping her husband.

  Right after he’d all but told her he wanted out of their marriage.

  “You don’t want to let her just take off that way, damn it,” Kyle snapped.

  “Why not?” Gavin dropped into a chair, staring out over the river toward Louisville. “You heard her, damn it.”

  “I heard you both. Nine years, man—you’ve been together nine years and you’re just going to let it go?” Kyle was staring off in the darkness.

  In the direction she’d gone, Celine thought. Swallowing, she rubbed the heel of her hand over her chest.

  “Kyle, shut up,” Trish said. “Gavin needs some time to…”

  Something about the way Trish looked at him made Celine’s gut clench. She turned away, wished she could block out her hearing the way she could keep herself from seeing them.

  “Damn it, are you going to go after her or not?”

  “No.” Gavin sounded certain and sure. “I’m not. It’s done, man. Over and done.”

  Done…Tears pricked Celine’s eyes.

  “Shit.” Kyle’s voice was a disgusted snarl. “You’re going to regret this in the morning, when you’re a little more sober, Gav.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Because she couldn’t not look, she turned her head and watched as Trish snuggled down next to Gavin—next to Celine’s husband.

  “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but this is bullshit. This isn’t real,” Celine said quietly. “This isn’t that night.”

  “You’re wrong. It is real.” Jacob’s hand, strong and steady, rested on her shoulder. “And I think you know it. Come.”

  Before she could even ask, they were gone, caught up in that icy dark maw. The only warmth, once more, was Jacob. And as the moments stretched out, her dread grew.

  It ended sooner this time, Celine thought.

  Only seconds, she thought. And they were still close. But as she stared around, a fist reached up and grabbed her by the throat. No—

  She shook her head, backing away from Jacob as soon as her legs would let her. Or trying to—the bastard followed her. “Not here, damn it. I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to see…”

  She didn’t need to see it—she saw it often enough in her nightmares, relived those memories more often than she cared to recall. Did he expect her to watch it as well?

  The words locked in her throat and she couldn’t force them out. I don’t want to see what happened to me. I don’t want to see how they killed me.

  “Shhh.” Jacob’s hand slid down from her shoulder to her lower back, stroking her there in small, steady circles. “I wouldn’t show you that. There was another road you could have taken that night. Do you remember?”

  She swallowed, remembered the weird noises she’d heard—a strangled scream, at first. Then a louder one. Her gut had told her to run. But a stronger instinct had told her…you should help. She should have listened to her gut.

  “Look.” Jacob pointed and she hissed out a breath as she saw herself. Déjà vu…

  Driving the car and slowing down at a red light. Like it was yesterday. She even remembered what she had been thinking. Did she try to go home? She’d been so pissed—so angry. Needed to think. Needed to breathe. And some small part of her wanted to stay out late, make him worry. Make him wonder and brood.

  Celine swallowed as she stared at the mortal she’d been. Though yards separated them, she could see the tears. It was…freaky, she decided. Watching herself cry, knowing she’d be dead in just a short time.

  “No. This is the other route you could have taken.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. Then she scowled, watched as her past self lifted her head.

  The sounds rippled through the air. Struggles she hadn’t heard then, followed by a weaker plea.

  She hadn’t heard any of that then.

  She’d rather not hear it now—the wet grunts, the groans. She’d rather not scent the fear, the panic. Three demons had grabbed a nineteen-year-old girl from the streets—they’d raped her, then decided to haul her somewhere to do it again before they killed her.

  Celine had heard the screams, followed. Watched as they pulled her into a car and for reasons she couldn’t explain, instead of calling the cops, she’d rushed in, thinking only to help.

  She hadn’t been able to save the girl…or herself.

  Now she watched the younger version of herself debate on what to do as a scream ripped through the air. “It doesn’t even matter in the end. They killed her. I couldn’t help and I ended up dead myself.”

  And Celine watched as the car turned left…away from the demons she hadn’t known existed.

  “This isn’t right…”

  “No. This is what could have been.”

  “Why are you showing me this?” Celine demanded once Jacob dragged her through another vortex.

  The time switch did nothing to him—it was his gift, and his curse, seeing as he often flitted back to his own time to torment himself. Or he had at one time. Not so much anymore.

  But it was hell on others.

  A special hell on Celine, one he didn’t want to share with her. She needed to see, though.

  “Why are we here?” She stared at her house. It was dark, the lights out. “There’s nobody here.”

  But even as the words died, the sound of a car engine drew close and in moments, they were watching as Trish came to a stop in front of the house. The pain coming off Celine now was obscene. Her instincts were sound. She suspected she was about to see something painful. He wished he didn’t need to show her this.

  Wished there was another way to make her realize the past she was clinging to no longer existed.

  Trish followed Gavin to the door. Gavin didn’t invite it. That much was clear. But when Trish leaned against him and pressed herself to him, the man didn’t fight it overmuch either.

  It wasn’t until the woman went to unzip his jeans that Celine’s husband did anything. “We can’t do this.”

  “Why not?” Trish asked. “It’s not like she cares…she already told you that. It’s not like you want to be married to her anymore.”

  “It…” Gavin extricated himself from her grasp and moved away, leaning over the railing of the porch, staring into the darkness. “One fight doesn’t mean—hell. Look, Trish. I’m married. Okay?”

  “But you don’t want to be.” She came up to stand behind him. “Not to her. Not anymore. Do you?”

  “I…” Gavin sighed. “You know what? That doesn’t matter. I’m still married. And until that’s not the case, this can’t happen.”

  No—

  She jerked and backed away, unable to listen, unable to watch. “I don’t want to see this—this is bullshit. Gavin wouldn’t have fucked around on me.”

  “You’re right.” Jacob nodded. “He didn’t. Not that night—not since. He’s kept himself faithful, hoping you’d come back. But this isn’t about what happened. It’s about what could have happened.”

  He nodded toward the street. “Watch.”

  The next few minutes passed in a blur of screams and fury. Trish had gone to kiss Gavin again. He had been pushing her away, that much Celine could see…now.

  But that night? The woman she had been? Apparently all Celine had seen was another woman in her husband’s arms.

  And by the time the police arrived, Trish was bleeding from her nose, clutching her belly, and Gavin was holding Celine away from the woman, even though the look in his eyes clearly said he didn’t want to be touching her.

  “Had you taken that other road, he would have moved out of the
house two days later, filed for divorce within the week.”

  “No.” Celine turned away and stalked down the street away from the house where she had lived with her husband. Away from whatever trick Jacob had conjured up to make her accept this bullshit life.

  “You’re not telling me that he divorced me for her,” she bit off as Jacob caught up with her.

  “No. He divorced you because the two of you weren’t happy together. You hadn’t been for a long time. Trish only aggravated the matter.”

  “But—”

  “There are no buts. You weren’t happy. The two of you barely managed to co-exist together. You wanted children. He did not. He wanted to pursue a writing career and you were terrified it wouldn’t happen. You had different dreams for your lives and somewhere along the way, you fell out of love.”

  “Wrong!” She spun around and glared at Jacob. “I still love him.”

  “There is love, and there is in love. Have you forgotten the difference?”

  She sneered at him. “What in the hell do you know about love, you damned iceberg?”

  She never even saw him move. One moment, he was three feet away. And then he was only inches away, his long body, so lean and warm, caging hers in against something cool and metal—a car? Truck? She didn’t know, didn’t care. One hand rested by her shoulder. The other cupped her chin. “More than you would think, sweet. Far more than you would think.” Then his mouth was on hers.

  An iceberg.

  She thought he was an iceberg.

  Little fool.

  Her mouth was still under his, for the briefest moment. He knew it wouldn’t last long, and he intended to make the most of it. She wanted to wither away and die, did she?

  Perhaps she needed to see just how much life she still had inside her.

  Oh, but she was sweet…he’d known she would be. Her mouth was soft, even though she was still frozen with shock. Soft, and she tasted like soft, warm woman, cherries and Coke… She lived on Cherry Coke, it seemed. He could live on the taste of it on her, he supposed.

  Stroking his tongue along the curve of her lower lip, he teased her lips apart, delving inside the second he had an opportunity. He didn’t believe in wasting those.

  Her fingers curled into the front of his coat and over the roaring of blood in his ears, he heard the soft, broken sound of her breath…and even sweeter, the erratic beat of her heart. Her body wilted against his—he felt the push of her breasts, the softness of her belly, the long lines of the body she treated so carelessly. There was wanting in her body, needing…she wanted, she needed. Him…she wanted him.

  For that moment—he felt it.

  And then he felt her fist.

  He took that first punch, staggering back a little. Damn, she was strong. When she would have hit him again, he caught her hand, stopping the blow before it landed. “Don’t,” he warned quietly.

  When he saw the tears in her eyes, though, he wished he’d just let her hit him. Pound him bloody if it made her feel better.

  “Why did you do that?” She jerked her hand.

  Jacob let go, his heart aching.

  Her voice was shaking. Fuck, what had he done?

  “Why did you do that?”

  “You’re not dead, Celine. You need to quit wishing it on yourself.”

  But he didn’t think she even heard him. Celine, with a hand that trembled, touched her mouth. “You kissed me. Damn it, why did you kiss me?”

  There was no chance for him to answer, because more yelling erupted from the house. Celine’s voice, angry and hurt. And then there was Gavin’s voice, tired…just tired. There was no anger there. No anger, no hurt.

  “He stopped loving you, the fool,” Jacob said quietly as she turned toward the sound of the voices. “He gave up on your marriage—a long time ago, but you mourn for that life. A life where he didn’t love you as you deserved.”

  “If he didn’t love me, he wouldn’t still be grieving for me.”

  “Many things inspire grief,” Jacob said, turning to look back at her. The pain in her dark eyes all but put him on his knees. He’d do anything to take it from her. Anything. “Love. Anger.”

  He moved to stand next to her and because he couldn’t stop himself, he touched his hand to the dark strands of her hair. “Guilt.”

  She flinched.

  “He cared for you, yes. But that isn’t love. It is guilt that makes him cling to your memory, Celine. If you would just let yourself look, you would see it.”

  Guilt.

  A life where he didn’t love you…

  Celine had thought no words cut her deeply, not after the scars she already carried.

  But she’d been wrong.

  There were still more painful words for her to hear.

  They came from the house, and her heart shattered as she made herself hear what might have been. As she made herself accept the death of her dreams.

  “It’s over, Celine,” Gavin said.

  Although the windows were closed, she heard him clearly, heard the ragged sound of her breathing as her former self fought not to cry. Through the windows, Celine watched them, as they might have been, saw the pain on her face, so starkly written.

  And she watched as the woman she had been lifted a hand to her husband and he shook his head, unwilling to reach back.

  “Gavin…”

  “Don’t.” He shook his head and said it again quietly, “Just don’t. We haven’t fit for a long time and I’ve known it. I just wouldn’t let myself see it.”

  He turned to face her. “But we can’t keep trying to make this work anymore. There’s nothing there.”

  Most of the rest of it passed in a blur.

  Celine heard the words, she was sure of that.

  But they just didn’t make sense. It was like white noise, buzzing senselessly in her mind.

  She jumped as the front door slammed and she watched herself leaving the house, watched as the windows went dark. “What happens to me now?”

  Jacob’s hand touched her hair and she flinched. She heard the soft, sad sound of his sigh. “For the first few months, you are angry, bitter. Beyond that, I don’t know. I can only see the immediate events connected to what is haunting you. To see more, I’d have to search more.” He paused and then asked quietly, “Do you need to know?”

  “No.” She laughed hollowly. “The one thing I needed is lost to me. Nothing else matters.”

  Her heart weighing in her chest like a stone, she looked back at Jacob. “And Gavin? What happens with him in this life?”

  His lids flickered. Gunmetal gray eyes stared into hers.

  But he said nothing.

  “Tell me,” she said levelly.

  “He moves on.” He looked past her to the house and in a cool voice, he continued, “The man files for his divorce, settles into his new life and lets you go as easily as that. He seemed quite happy.”

  “So he forgets about me. I could have lived and he would have been just fine. I died, and he’s miserable. I guess that’s one hell of a way to get back at him,” she said. She shot for wry humor, but failed. She hurt. She hurt so very badly. “Take me away from this, Jacob. I’ve seen enough.”

  Chapter Four

  Dreams died. Painfully.

  Regrets, they lingered.

  But the misery that had been her constant companion, to her surprise, slowly eased.

  From one slow, sad day to the next. It was no sudden, abrupt, lessening—it was a heavy, crushing weight and she was so used to breathing around it, it took her a while to realize that heavy, crushing weight wasn’t as heavy as it had been.

  A song was what made her realize things were changing.

  Celine was in the gym Jacob had set up in the basement, lifting weights, when a song came on the radio—one she hadn’t heard in years.

  A song she’d once loved.

  Then one she’d hated.

  She was halfway through a rep when she realized she was absently singing along with the lyrics of �
��Not Meant to Be” by Theory of a Deadman. Startled, she pushed the weight bar back up and stared at the sprawling entertainment system, her gaze locked on the digital display.

  Yes.

  That was the song.

  She’d heard that song only moments—

  Her heart skipped a beat at the memory, but the pain didn’t rush up to grab her by the throat. To choke her.

  And because she couldn’t stop herself, she thought of Gavin.

  This time, she was able to do it without all that rage. Without the bitterness.

  “You don’t hurt so much.”

  Celine wasn’t surprised to see him there.

  He’d appeared in a number of dreams lately—clothing optional in some of them.

  Right now, he was dressed and sitting in the chair near her bed. She suspected her mind had conjured Jacob up because she needed to vent. And who better to vent at than him? Or a figment of him, at least. He was the closest thing to a friend she had.

  A friend?

  Celine ignored that sly whisper. She needed a friend. That was all.

  Drawing her knees to her chest, she stared at him. “I don’t feel as…angry,” she finished lamely. “I don’t know how much of the hurt is going away, but it seems easier.”

  “Perhaps some part of you has been preparing for this. You have moved on in some ways, because the woman you were that night is no longer who you are.” He continued to watch her in that close, unreadable way, with those unyielding gray eyes.

  They no longer seemed as cold as she’d once thought they were, she mused. Just guarded. Or maybe it was just the dream. “If I’ve moved on, then how come it has hurt the way it has for so long?”

  “Because the mind, memories, they have great power.” He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug, the thin weave of his black shirt clinging to muscles she was suddenly too aware of.

  She found herself staring at those muscles, remembering a kiss…and then jerking her mind back to the present when he lifted a brow at her. Damn it, if I want to ogle him in a dream, I should be able to. But she couldn’t. Not when he continued to stare at her like that. Even in dreams, his gaze seemed too…penetrating.