Crazed Hearts: Grimm’s Circle, Book 3

by Shiloh Walker

  Oh, the package looked human. Right up until you saw the eyes.

  But the eyes?

  Nothing human. Nothing sane. Just cold, hungry and empty…

  “Hello, Aileas,” it murmured.

  She swallowed, backing away one step at a time, the fireplace at her left, the living room at her right.

  It cocked its head. “Why don’t you want to talk to me? Don’t you know me?”

  She felt something push at her mind. The face of the thing tried to shift—no, it was like a mask tried to settle over the thing’s face, but it just wouldn’t.

  It was trying to make her think it was her brother.

  She didn’t know why, but Aileas knew better.

  She’d buried her brother.

  And somehow, something like this creature was responsible.

  “You’re not my brother,” she said softly.

  From the corner of her eye, she could see Ren, see the flash of wood and steel in his hands.

  There was a crash, followed by a vicious swear.

  “Don’t worry about him, sweetie. He’s going to be busy for a while,” the thing said. “Look at me…let me see your eyes.”

  Behind her, she heard a hoarse shout.

  The thing in front of her chuckled. “Oh, dear. Your poor little angel just got his wings clipped…”

  Something sick, painful hit her in the stomach. She staggered.

  The thing in front of her smiled.

  One second later, she was staggering over some horrible knowledge—something she couldn’t let herself think about. Then she had the metal poker from the fireplace in her hand.

  As the thing lunged for her, she lifted it and plunged.

  The demon howled and jerked back, the poker buried in its eye.

  Greta appeared at its back, a vicious, hot smile on her face. She looked at Aileas over the thing’s shoulder and said, “Well done, kid. I knew I’d like you.”

  As Greta buried a blade in the demon’s heart, Aileas turned, her eyes seeking out Ren.

  When she saw him, fallen, broken and still, the very light went out of her world.

  Chapter Eleven

  He hovered in a place of white…nothingness.

  The light, it came from everywhere and nowhere.

  Will was there, and no one else.

  “Will?”

  “Hello, Thomas.”

  Ren looked around and then down at himself.

  The last thing he could remember was the clawed hand of the bocan, coming down at him. He hadn’t been able to move in time—splitting his attention between the orin and the bocan—a damn big demon. Who had brought that bastard in?

  “The orin did,” Will said, answering Ren’s unspoken question. “He wanted your lady—a soul as strong hers, it would keep him amused for quite some time, and he wanted you busy with something else. It worked.”

  Ren grimaced and touched his chest. Under his hand, it was whole. But back on earth, back in the mortal world, somehow, he doubted that was the case.

  The Grimm could survive most injuries, but not all. If the heart was destroyed, the heart, the brain…

  That first, fiery pain had lasted but a second and then everything had gone dark.

  “I’m dead, aren’t I?” he asked, his voice quiet, accepting. It was over. He was done. And he had failed…again. “I’m dead and that thing got his hands on Ali.”

  “Oh, your Ali is a tough one. Strong. Stronger than your sister, stronger than your mother,” Will said. He moved through the wispy white fog wrapping around their ankles and rested a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “I think it’s time you accept one simple truth, Thom. What happened to your sister, your mother…it isn’t your fault.”

  Ren closed his eyes.

  That was a truth he couldn’t accept.

  He should have protected them—

  “You were a boy, trying to do an adult’s job. Your mother should have done the protecting. If anybody failed, it was her. Not you.”

  Ren looked around them, looked at the sheer, utter nothingness. “Isn’t this an odd time to be discussing this? It’s over. It’s done.”

  “Is it?” Will murmured. He reached up, touched his fingers to Ren’s temple. “You play the part of the madman so well, but there were times when you did slip a little too close to the line…how well do you remember them? Do you remember the first time?”

  Ren jerked away as he felt Will’s push at his mind, at his memories. “What does it matter if I pretend to be a bit more insane than I am? It’s not like I ever harmed a soul for it?” Grief twisted his heart and he rubbed the heel of his hand over his chest. Even here, in this place past death he could feel the guilt. “Aileas. Please tell me the orin didn’t take her body. Please tell me that.”

  “Her soul is too strong for him.” Will stared at Ren, his silver eyes glowing. “You need to remember, Thom, remember what pushed you to that madness. You need to remember, so you can let go of the guilt.”

  “No.” Ren went to spin away. But he found he couldn’t move.

  Then he couldn’t see.

  He was lost in darkness, falling back. Back…back…

  London, 1889

  It was Rose.

  Thom couldn’t believe it.

  It was Rose.

  He went to leap out of the carriage, to catch his sister in his arms and embrace her, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

  “Thom, wait,” Greta said, her voice quiet and soft.

  She was staring out the window, her eyes on the young woman walking down the street, but the look in her eyes was one that turned Thom’s joy to worry…then fear.

  “Greta, that is Rose. The sister I told you about. The one I thought had died.”

  When she looked back at him, there was such sorrow, such sadness in her eyes.

  “I am so sorry, Thom, but that isn’t your sister.”

  “No!” Aileas scrambled for Ren’s side, slipping through the blood, uncaring about the dead thing at her back.

  Or the…thing twitching and jerking a few feet away. Her eyes couldn’t even process what that was, but one thing was certain. It had never been human.

  Her heel slipped in the blood.

  Ren’s blood and she damned near fell on her ass, but she caught her balance, steadied and then stumbled her way to his side.

  No.

  She pressed her hands to her mouth, but they didn’t quite muffle the sob. No…

  Slowly, she started to rock, staring at his face.

  Only his face though, because she couldn’t stare anywhere else. If she did… Reaching up, she touched one cheek, already cool. His eyes, dark, so dark, stared ahead.

  “Ren,” she whispered.

  A pristine pair of white boots appeared in her field of vision. Numb, she lifted her gaze and found herself staring at a stranger.

  “Hello, Aileas.”

  The stranger held out a hand.

  She just shook her head and looked back at Ren. She touched his left shoulder and stroked a hand down his arm, closed her hand around his. Lifting his fingers to her lips, she kissed them.

  Fate, she realized, was a bitter, ugly bitch.

  Finally, there was a man in her life that she could really care about, really get attached to, and there were obstacles—oh, were there obstacles. One. He was an angel.

  Two…now he was dead.

  A sob was trapped in her throat, desperate to break free.

  “How can you die?” she whispered. “Angels aren’t supposed to die, are they?”

  It had been easier, Thom realized, when he had thought Rose was dead.

  Now, staring into those mad, hungry eyes, he closed his fingers around her fine-boned wrists and struggled to keep her from touching him. “That is quite enough,” he snarled.

  “Oh, don’t be such a bore,” she said, smiling at him.

  He shoved her back. She tripped and went down as he went for the door.

  But before he reached it, his mother—or what had used to be h
is mother—was there blocking him.

  “Oh, you couldn’t possibly leave us yet,” she whispered.

  She wrapped something around his neck, sharp—strong—too strong. She squeezed, and squeezed, and as she choked the life out of him, both she and the thing that had been Rose, they laughed.

  Small hands touched him, bare skin to bare skin, and he felt the sickness, the darkness, and the evil that lived inside the human shell. It snapped something inside him.

  No…this was no longer his sister.

  Three years had passed since he’d been lifted out of that cellar, and he was no longer the skinny, sickly boy he’d been. Strong and healthy and pushed too far, he reached out and grabbed the delicate, slender woman…a woman who fought with the strength of a demon.

  A woman who now housed a demon.

  Snarling, infuriated, mourning the sister who was now forever lost to him, Thom snapped the thing’s neck, even as the demon behind him wailed and once more started to choke him.

  When he came back to himself, his first coherent thought was…let her.

  Of course, it was more than a century too late, and that demon was already dead.

  Groaning, he opened his eyes and glared at Will. “Did I have to have that memory back?”

  “You blame yourself. For the death of your sister, but if anybody is to blame, it’s your mother. You warned her about the man she was going to marry and she did it anyway. When she married him, she placed your sister in the hands of evil—that’s not your fault. Stop carrying that burden, Ren.”

  Shooting Will a wry grin, Ren tucked his hands in his pockets and said, “Isn’t this an odd time for a pep talk? Right outside the pearly gates?”

  “Is that really where you want to go?”

  Will turned and lifted a hand.

  The fog cleared and Ren found himself staring into his cabin.

  His seriously destroyed cabin.

  Aileas was there. Kneeling beside him.

  “Ahh, bloody hell,” Ren muttered, staring at the ruin of his body. “Get her out of there, Will. And take that memory away. She doesn’t need to remember that.”

  “I’ve no right to alter the memory of mortals,” Will said.

  “Don’t hand me the company line,” Ren snarled. “You can take that memory, I know you can. Get her out of there and take that from her. She doesn’t need to remember me dead and gutted. She’d be best if she didn’t remember me at all.”

  “Is that what you want?” Will looked at him. “Wouldn’t you rather have your life with her?”

  Ren gritted his teeth. “I’m dead,” he snarled. “Look at me. I’m nothing but meat there.”

  “What do you want, Thom?” Will continued to stare at him. “Your life? With her?”

  “She’s not to be one of us. I’d have felt it.”

  Will shook his head. “That’s not your only choice, lad. You know this.”

  Something inside Ren’s heart, in his gut started to burn. He wanted to look back at Aileas—wanted to reach out and touch her. But he feared to…feared to hope. Feared to want.

  “What are you asking me?” he rasped.

  “I’m asking you…what do you want?”

  “Her. I want her.”

  Slowly, Will’s mouth curled into a smile.

  And then…the light exploded.

  “Come, Aileas,” the man said again, holding out his hand. “There isn’t much time for me to do this.”

  Greta moved to kneel next to her. “Trust him,” she said quietly.

  Aileas shook her head, unable to do that, unable to think, unable to do anything but stare at Ren’s face.

  The man crouched down across from her, just on the other side of Ren’s ruined body.

  “Do you want him?” he asked quietly, drawing her eyes to him.

  Aileas found herself staring into his eyes. Strange silver eyes. Eyes that glowed.

  “I hardly know him,” she said, forcing out the words she should say.

  “That isn’t what I asked. Do you want him?” he asked again.

  “Yes…”

  He held out a hand. “Then come.”

  Slowly, uncertain what he was about, she placed her hand in his.

  As she did, he laid the other on Ren’s shoulder.

  There was light.

  There was rushing wind.

  And then she remembered nothing…

  Greta wiped her watering eyes as she stood up.

  Rip waited for her, staring at the spot where Ren had lain, bleeding.

  The floor was nearly black with his blood. Too much of it. Far too much of it.

  “Did I just see that?” Rip asked softly.

  “Yes.” Then she scowled and said, “At least I think you did. I think.”

  “Good.” He nodded. Thoughtfully, he reached up and stroked his chin. Then he asked, “Okay, explain to me what I just saw.”

  “Now that I can’t say.”

  She glanced up as Elle and Michael came inside—through the window. The very much destroyed window. They looked as mystified, as confused as she felt. Lifting her hands, she said, “Don’t ask me. I don’t have a clue.”

  Then she looked at the dead body of the bocan, the human corpse—all that remained of the orin. Once the demon hosts died, the host bodies died as well, which meant there were now six or seven dead bodies to deal with, as well as the bocan.

  With a sigh, she said, “Let’s get to work on clean-up.”

  Chapter Twelve

  He could smell her hair, Ren realized.

  A figment of his imagination, most likely, and something twisted in his heart. Grief.

  He’d promised to protect her and he’d failed.

  Then pain tore through his chest and he groaned, curling inward against the pain.

  That hurt even more.

  The pain, more than anything else, had him opening his eyes.

  And that was when he realized he was in his cabin.

  His cabin.

  Not in some fogged, misty white nowhere land.

  And Aileas was sleeping, curled up against him, one hand resting on his chest.

  “Ali…”

  She sighed in her sleep, but didn’t wake.

  Easing upright, he studied the heavy white bandage swathing his chest. He didn’t remember that—well, he remembered taking a wound, but what the bocan had done should have cut him open clear to his spine, not left him with an oversized Band-Aid.

  “Wondering why you aren’t dead?”

  Following the sound of that familiar voice, he saw Will sitting in a chair near the window. The boarded-up window.

  That was when he grew aware of the faint sounds of hammering, sawing. Laughter and talking.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Your friends are fixing your cabin,” Will said. “It will be a while before you’re up to it. You won’t heal the way you used to, you know.”

  Frowning, Ren tried to follow that, but he was still trying to figure out why he was here. Passing a hand over his eyes, he eased back down in the bed. He felt so weak—hadn’t felt this weak since he’d been…mortal.

  Hell.

  “You took my wings,” he said, looking at Will.

  “No—you gave them up,” Will corrected. “But…I knew you would. It was time for you. And maybe I cheated a bit—I can use my gifts to undo the damage done when you become a Grimm. Why not use them to undo the damage done to give you one more chance at life?”

  Then Will stood. “Don’t make me regret it, Thom.”

  Before Ren could even process that, Will was gone.

  Somehow, Ren knew he wouldn’t be seeing the man again. Not in this life.

  Closing his eyes, he murmured, “Thank you.”

  Turning his face into Aileas’ hair, he fell back asleep.

  “No, no, no…”

  “Wake up,” Ren said.

  Ali whimpered in her sleep.

  Although the pain in his chest made him half-sick, he sat up and pulled her
into his lap. “Ali, wake up,” he said again, louder. He tapped her cheek lightly, and then harder, but it didn’t do any good.

  She struggled in his arms, harder, harder, and then she screamed.

  Ren swore. “Damn it, Ali, wake up!”

  Her eyes flew open, glazed and blind, staring at him, but he knew she wasn’t seeing him.

  “You’re dead,” she said, her voice harsh, ragged and high. “I saw you. You’re dead…it killed you, but you’re not supposed to die…”

  Capturing her face in his hands, he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers. “I’m not dead, Ali. I’m here.”

  Her mouth trembled under his.

  Then a half-sob escaped her. “Ren?”

  “Shhh,” he murmured. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

  She jerked away, her eyes wide and unseeing. “But I saw you. You were dead. You were…” She ran her eyes over him, staring at the heavy bandage on his chest. “You were dead.”

  “Somebody cheated, bent the rules a little for me,” he murmured, plucking at the bandage. “I…ah…but I think I’m going to have to hang around and live the normal life for a while. As in…for good.”

  Ali didn’t seem to notice as she rolled to her knees, inspecting the bandage. “This isn’t real, can’t be happening,” she muttered. “I saw you. Wait…” She paused and covered her face with her hands. “There was a guy. White-haired guy, but not old. Just…well, he had white hair, white clothes. Silver eyes. He felt strange.”

  “That’s Will.” He caught one of her hands and lifted it to his lips, pressed a kiss to the back.

  “He was in the cabin, asking me what I wanted. Then he gave me his hand, and he touched you and there was this blast of light and we were someplace…else. I can remember feeling his hand on mine and he was telling me to hold on to you, to keep talking, not to let you go.” A soft sob escaped her. “Then…I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  She scrubbed the tears from her face and stared at him. “How can you be here?”

  “A miracle?” He reached out and traced his finger over the curve of her lip. “I wasn’t ready to leave this world yet. I could have, but…”

  She caught his wrist. “But what?”