In the last moment before the cords snapped free of the Daemons, the horrible noise mutated. It changed like an instrument that was finally being tuned to its proper key. A perfect note sung through the corners of her mind, echoing, and rising to a crescendo.
It was a sublime call to destruction.
The rapture and beatitude of the music contained in the note was greater than any joy humankind was meant to experience and survive. She wasn’t certain she could remain standing. Raine gaped. Her heart swelled around an agonizing sweetness. Light filled her, spilling out through her fingers and toes. The note lasted no longer than a Planck unit in this world, but it transcended the laws of physics and existed for quantum infinity on many planes of existence beyond her own.
Raine experienced them all…her sanity expanded to encompass them all…
Everything became clear in an instant, at once, mercilessly and indiscriminately. In this instant of eternity, Raine knew everything. It terrified her. It enthralled her. Filled her with despair and hope, pride and shame. The guilt over her part in all of this was great, yet at the same time she was such an infinitesimal speck in creation that nothing Raine did would have mattered at all in the grand scheme anyway. Life was both a comedy and a tragedy. Love was the only true power, no matter where you stood in the universe. Love was the only thing that mattered.
As quickly as enlightenment had come, it was gone, leaving only emptiness behind.
The light dimmed, stopped spilling out of her, and Raine was simply Raine again. She remembered very little of what she’d just experienced.
There was an immediate lull in the beehive hum that occupied her skull before a sharp and deafening cry almost burst outside her head. It was so large and loud, Raine strained to keep her feet as her world spun.
The phantom voices ululated, a most demonic chorus that tore through her like a serrated blade. There were no words she could discern and yet she understood a meaning in the din.
No!
But it was too late for them. The cords in Raine’s hand slackened as they broke, sending her stumbling backward a few awkward steps. At once the screams were silenced. The cords disappeared. They may have never existed outside of Raine’s own mind, there was simply no way to be sure.
In front of her, the seven Daemons paused, their horrific forms frozen, as if they had stumbled into a trip wire. The world held its breath. Raine held hers too. She darted her eyes between the seven devils that had come to claim her. The glow in their eyes had been snuffed out. They teetered, now just lifeless marionettes cut loose and discarded.
A tense moment passed. A rumble was the only warning before two of them exploded into dust. The other five fell to the ground, the impact of their bodies’ descent rocking the earth. A flock of birds within the trees took wing in protest. Raine swallowed sharply and the world moved on once again. The Daemons did not—they were dead, this time forever. In death, Raine now felt a twinge of pity for them and the circumstances that had brought them all together here in this mournful place.
Grimm appeared beside her, the spicy scent of his skin banishing some of the stench that lingered in the air. “Most impressive.” His eyes met hers and even in this darkness she could see the shine of starlight in his gaze. “I was not certain you would be so strong so quickly, but you continue to surprise me.”
Raine let out a breath, not realizing she’d held it from the moment the first Daemon had appeared and spoken to her. “They exploded.” Her voice was weak, thin. The words were ugly lyrics in the night air. “I didn’t even touch them.” She stepped hastily away from the corpses.
Grimm was a silent black swath of shadows in the night air.
“Grimm, one of them called me Little Mother. What did it mean by that?”
He didn’t seem to hear her. Instead he began arranging the bodies, stacking them in a neat pile. Though the beasts were all larger than he, Grimm made it appear easy enough to move them. Curious, Raine kicked at a Daemon’s body and wasn’t surprised to find that it was just as heavy as its mass suggested it would be. Grimm was preternaturally strong, physically at least. She would keep that in mind.
“Why would it call me that?” She pressed the matter, following his every step at a cautious distance. “It seemed to me like it was a title or a formal name, something crazy like that, but that can’t be, right? Why would it call me Mother?”
“I think you already have an answer to that question, Raine.” When he said her name, it shivered along her skin like a warm breeze. “Acceptance of the answer will come to you eventually without any response from me.”
“Respond anyway.” She paused before adding, “Please.”
He did not. His long stride took him around the pile, his hair hiding his features as he made an intent study of the work he had done.
Raine’s lips curled. “I don’t think I like you very much.”
His brow arched. “I have been told that I grow on people.” Something flared bright in his hand and then fell onto the pile of bodies. A concussive whoosh beat the air as the Daemons were immediately engulfed by flame, as if they were comprised of pure ethanol, not flesh or bone. Within seconds the funeral pyre burned high into the sky, radiating a sickly heat that was as unwelcome as the fuel that fed it.
He stood at her side without touching her, though she felt the comfort of his presence as a very physical thing. They regarded the flames together for a few solemn moments. All was silent in the world, save for the occasional groan of the kindling.
Bodies.
Remains.
“Grimm.”
“Yes, Raine.”
“No one is allowed to know about them, the Daemons. You keep them secret—it’s why you burned the corpses.”
“Astute of you to notice.”
She turned to look up at him. His gaze met hers—cold, empty space. He gave away nothing of his thoughts in his eyes. “So why am I allowed to know?”
He blinked slowly and she felt a chill raise the hairs on her arms. She wished at once that she could recall the question. She feared the answer.
“You faced them, brave and unflinching, you met them. Now they are gone. The world is safer. You should be proud of the work you have done.” His shadow loomed larger than before, blocking out the sky. “You are allowed to know because you are necessary in keeping their existence a secret from the human world. Theirs is a world that is not ready to learn that the monsters of their nightmares exist in the flesh. You know theirs is a world too unstable to unite against them and so we must, to fight and labor in their stead, else the Daemon Horde consume the planet.”
Theirs. Not yours. And the Daemon Horde, these two words especially carried with them a familiar note that resonated deep inside her.
“How did I get this way?” She had to ask and hated it.
“You were born this way.”
Raine shook her head. “No I wasn’t.”
“Yes you were, Nightingale. The magic lay sleeping in your blood until you needed it—”
“No,” she insisted. “I wasn’t like this before, Grimm.”
“Can you honestly say to me that you never once had an unusual experience before meeting me? One you could not explain?” He raised a dark brow, daring her to answer.
She remembered the Daemon exploding the night of her accident, when there had been no threads to pull, and the dark strength that had filled her when it had expired. Raine’s shoulders sank. “Okay, yes, but doesn’t everyone?”
“While it’s true there is a capacity for greatness in every living being, there are only a very few who realize their potential. There is rarely a need to. You were both blessed and cursed with a pressing need to realize your full potential, Nightingale. Circumstances being what they were, are you not glad to be standing here beside me, instead of lying dead and cold in the ground?”
“Stop calling me that. Nightingale,” she scoffed. The last thing she felt like doing now was singing. She closed her eyes and looked away. “Why
did you bring me here?”
“To help you remember.”
Her eyes stung, but no tears came. “I was happier when I didn’t remember.”
“You would not have been happy long.” His gaze met hers, such empathy swimming in their great depths it almost hurt her to see. “You have an inquisitive mind, Raine. And a restless spirit. While I have always admired these traits in you, they have often brought you unnecessary pain. Eventually, you would have demanded answers, driven yourself mad with the need of them. I merely took the initiative and brought them to you sooner rather than later.”
“Gee, thanks for that.” The words flew from her mouth in a snarl, her fingers curled into fists.
“You are most welcome.”
Raine darted a look at him to see if he was jesting. It was impossible to read his expression, but she thought maybe a small curve softened the savage beauty of his mouth. Cheese and rice, he was gorgeous—put together with such exquisite attention to detail that she couldn’t decide what feature she liked best about him. If she weren’t careful, Grimm would grow on her. In her.
For some reason the numbers thirteen and two and a half popped into her head. Measurements. But measurements for what?
Oh wow, her face felt very warm all of a sudden.
With acute clarity, Raine knew she was in way over her head.
And dang it, she didn’t know if she should really care.
The bonfire’s flames burned hotter, exploding light that blinded the night, then began to die. With a return to darkness, it seemed that shadows swallowed Grimm, hiding him from her. For a hellish moment, Raine felt cast out, abandoned, completely and utterly alone.
“Grimm.” Her voice was too loud in her ears.
“Yes.” His rich baritone response came from across a vast gray distance.
She gave a shaky laugh. “I thought I’d lost you for a second.”
“I am here, Raine.”
“Good.” She swallowed and looked around as the night came once more into clear focus. Odd how bright it was, even without the moon. “I can never go back to the way I was, can I?”
“No.”
She took it in, let it settle and fill her. “Okay. So what comes next?”
Grimm’s hand found hers, and that easily the chasm that had separated them was bridged. She wasn’t alone. She twined her fingers with his, marrying their palms together. The silence grew charged. Her breath came shallow and her heart pushed her. Raine darted forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
The universe held its breath.
Her mouth felt the rough promise of his beard, lurking just beneath his skin. His scent burned its way through her mind. She eagerly breathed him in. A miniscule tightening of his jaw pressed his muscles and bones to her lips, as though even his deepest tissues longed to touch her. Feel her. Know her.
Her body leaned into him, softening.
Or maybe he drew her closer. Hardening.
A breeze sent his hair playing over her face and throat. Sensual awareness pushed her senses into and beyond the realm of crystal clarity. Notes she had never known existed played like a symphony in her ears—the melodies of wood, water, wind, and beneath them all was the tuning music of the planet that spun forever beneath them, humming.
No…not humming…buzzing. Buzzing in her skull, loud enough to split the seams that held her head together. Too insistent, too persistent to be brushed aside. Too dangerous to be ignored.
Raine fell back to flat feet and put her hand to her head. No. Please no.
Yesss. The hum of the gathering hive in her head was insistent.
Grimm watched her, hands now by his sides, his cloak fluttering on a breeze that wasn’t there.
Dang it. Raine wanted to cry, to rant and rave. She wanted nothing more than to step into Grimm’s arms and…see what happened in the darkness of his embrace. But she couldn’t.
More Daemons were coming.
She not only felt them in her head but outside it as well, along the numerous shimmering threads that slithered into being at her center, growing thicker as the monsters gathered closer. Desolate, Raine was cast from heaven into hell, not for the first time and not for the last.
“They’ll never stop,” she rasped, more to herself than to him. “They’ll never tire. Not for me.” How could she know that? How could she know that in her bones, but not know how she’d come to be with Grimm in his geode palace under the earth before the glowing fire in a peaceful room not hours before this?
She stepped away from Grimm with a whimper and turned, half sorrowful, half furious, thoroughly confused at the vagaries of her fate. On slow, resigned feet she walked into the tree line, knowing they would come from the darkest corners, and waited for the swarm. She didn’t have to wait long.
Many more bonfires blazed before the night was through. Instead of remembering, Raine found herself mostly trying to forget it all in the flickering tongues of flame that danced in the treacherous folds of the long, endless night.
Chapter Six
Dawn’s pale fingers dipped into the horizon. Raine’s face turned to the light as the face of a flower might, waiting for the kiss of the sun. She was coming back to herself for the first time in hours, relinquishing the cool detachment she’d found succor in during the eternal night. Physically she felt strong enough to run a thousand miles, but mentally she was as exhausted as if she’d run ten times that distance already. She’d lost count of the bodies Grimm had stacked onto the hot bonfires, of the bodies that had exploded—more and more as the hours stretched and something in her had awakened…or reawakened.
She lost count of the bonfires, set ablaze only after Grimm had made certain no vehicles would pass by on the roadway. The whole business made her begin to feel a strange sort of wretchedness, as if it was an unforgivable waste and not a necessary extermination—which she knew was irrational. It was just…there were so many of them. She’d killed them all herself, pulled at so many of those weird, shimmering threads, felt their lives pass through her. The worst thing about it was that with each death she felt stronger, with each Daemon that exploded into dust she experienced an exhilarating rush of power that sent her head reeling, and it only got more and more potent with each life she took.
There was a time in her life when she would rather catch a spider and take it outside than squash it with her foot. Raine hated to kill anything. And this wholesale slaughter of sentient creatures—no matter how malevolent—chafed her conscience raw. Her soul felt greasy, ravaged. Damned.
“Morning has caught up to us.” Rich baritone music broke through her fugue—Grimm’s voice at her ear.
Grimm had never once left her side. She had also noticed that he had not once moved to kill one of the monsters himself. Raine knew he could. He disposed of the bodies without a word, but he left the killing entirely up to her. She wondered why that was.
“We have to go,” he said, and pulled his cowl up over his head and settled the folds down low over his features.
Raine turned to glance at him through a fringe of hair that had blown into her face. “Why?” She frowned. “The only good thing about this night is the dawn.”
He didn’t respond. He appeared engrossed in the business of scattering the ashes of their pyres, his features hidden in the shadows of his hood. Raine sensed a coiled tension about him, something cold and dangerous that emanated from his pores, forming an aura around him that couldn’t be seen but one she could definitely feel. She shivered despite the warmth of her clothing and turned her face back to the rising sun.
Raine breathed the air deep into her nose and smelled a cosmic mélange she’d never noticed before—it was unlike any scent she’d encountered, but she recognized it for what it was—daylight. It was a mixture of colors and textures. Somehow she could smell the color green, pick certain shades of it apart from the spectrum and know which shade was from a smooth green algae or a rough green scale on some lizard’s back. But it was more than that too. The air was infused
with age and even stranger essences. It carried with it all the attar of life and death that had ever been sparked into being throughout the universe. The scent was in everything; it was even a part of her own tissues. Suddenly she had a name for it.
It was stardust.
Raine stumbled, her eyes slamming closed against a glare that had suddenly turned cruel. The light was too revealing. A gasp escaped her lips. “No.” It was ripped from her as she felt the world tilt toward that watchful guardian who she was suddenly afraid to face, given the unmitigated violence she had committed during the long night. In the full light of day, would her hands somehow be red and bloodied from all the threads she had pulled? Her skin flushed hot with shame that took her by surprise.
Mortified, Little Mother? You sinner, you killer. The voices condemned her.
Was she a killer? She had taken life—it wasn’t up to her to decide if it was life worth living. It didn’t matter what she had killed, did it? After all, she had done it so easily, without question or hesitation.
Murderer.
She was a murderer.
Murderer…
Raine shook her head to clear it of the lashing voices. No. She couldn’t think like this. These weren’t her thoughts. “Ah, get out of my head.” She tapped her hands against her temples, which were throbbing again.
Killer! The accusation, spat in that venomous polyphony, almost split her skull.
She gasped and bent low, her fingers searching in the grass, for what, she didn’t know. But the moment she touched the rich, dark earth, the voices dimmed and nothing else mattered. When she grabbed fistfuls of the soil, they fell back to mere whispers. Raine took some deep, steadying breaths before standing back up, her hands still holding the dirt as if it were pieces of gold and not dirty black clods, and in that moment it was far more precious to her than gold because it shut those voices out somehow—silence was golden after all. She wanted to laugh and cry, but did neither.
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