Furious Fire: Grimm's Circle, Book 8

by Shiloh Walker

  “But don’t make some mortal who has already been traumatized deal with any more of this madness.”

  Still trying to take care of me. I might have laughed if I could have found the energy. Something on the table tucked up against a door caught my eye. Casually, like I was still on my restless circuit around the room, I made my way over there.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Will said and his voice was ice. Pure, chilly ice. “I’m not taking her away from here and when we leave, we leave together. I have bigger concerns on my mind than a woman who was foolish enough to plunge headlong into a world she doesn’t understand. Now, be—”

  I tuned them out.

  Quick. I had to be quick if I was going to do this.

  There was a faint, almost strangled gasp and I watched the demon tense, saw the gleam in its eyes as it saw what I was doing. I didn’t hesitate, lifting the blade.

  A moment later, its eyes glazed over and its body went limp.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Finn’s furious growl shattered the shocked silence as the demon’s incorporeal form wound out from the now lifeless corpse.

  Will flicked me a look, barely suppressing his sigh before he spread his hand out.

  I didn’t have much time to wonder why because I was too busy backing away from the black maw that had opened up at my feet.

  That vaporous, somehow oily mist slid toward me, a plume of putrid evil and I tensed. I knew they couldn’t enter me—they’d tried—but it’s still damn unsettling.

  “I don’t think so,” Will murmured and there was a ferocious wrench in the power.

  The thing was gone in the next second, that black vortex sucking it up before it disappeared into nothing.

  Cocking my head, I studied the floor, warped from heat, covered in things I didn’t want to name—and not just blood. “Whoever got the room, I have a feeling you are going to owe an awful lot more than you originally planned on paying.”

  My legs still felt weak and I gave into the urge to sit down. As I did, I put down the long, wickedly curved bowie knife I’d used to skewer the demon. Sitting down…yes, that was nice. My weary body appreciated it very much.

  For a few seconds at least. Then a shadow fell across me.

  Slowly, I looked up and damn me if my heart didn’t start to race.

  Whiskey-gold eyes glittered as Thomas Finn glared at me.

  Well, you’re looking at me, at least.

  “You got any idea what could have happened to you just now?”

  Thick lashes swept down over her eyes and for a minute, Finn was glad. He should have gotten himself in control, stayed away, tried to talk sense into Will, but that clearly wasn’t happening.

  However, getting close to her wasn’t doing him any good.

  Now that she wasn’t looking at him, some of the fear and fury eased back and he almost turned away.

  But then her lashes lifted and she met his gaze levelly. “Oh, I have a better idea than you probably realize.” A faint smile tugged at her lips, a cynical sort of smirk.

  As if some puppet master had control of him, Finn found himself looming closer when all he wanted to do was get away. No. That wasn’t what he wanted—but that was what he needed to do. That was what common sense and the rational part of him was screaming for him to do. Instead, he was close enough that he could feel the soft caress of her breath disturbing the air currents around him. He caught the scent of her skin and it intensified as the heat coming off him warmed her as well.

  She seemed to notice the heat too, and her eyes dropped, lingered on his arms. Flames danced and flickered under his skin in what Finn had come to accept as a warning. Not that he needed it anymore. He knew when he was walking too close to that line. He could be polite and pull it back in, pretend to be something a little closer to human.

  The reddish shadows danced faster as he curled one hand around the edge of the table, too pissed off to worry about being polite. He hadn’t been mortal in too long and there was no reason to pretend around a woman he didn’t know. A mortal woman.

  “Do you know how stupid that was?”

  “Oh, stop.” She heaved out a sigh and slumped in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Let me guess, you want to tell me all about how demons can invade human hosts…I’ll save you the trouble.”

  She went to stand, moving with swift fluidity that caught him off guard.

  Oh, he was faster, but he hadn’t seen a mortal move that fast. Ever.

  He hadn’t backed up, though, and now they stood just a few inches away. She was tall. In her bare feet, he’d guess she was five eleven, leaving him with just three inches on her. She tipped her head back to meet his gaze, that maddening, enticing smirk on her face.

  Challenging—

  Moonlight, gleaming off her hair. A challenging smile on her face.

  “…fuck a prostitute?”

  Finn wrapped a choke chain around his memories and forced them to yield. “If you already know what they can do, then it just shows how foolish you are, because you risked your neck, your soul, your very life by killing that thing. You’re the closest body available to him. That is just another reason why you can’t be here.”

  “Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes and cut around him, moving a few feet closer to Will. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here. I don’t want to know. Trust me, I regret trying to pounce on you—”

  The flames inside Finn exploded. He savagely shoved the fire inside, although he was now desperate for release. A sudden, blinding image flooded his mind and he curled a hand into a fist as the need to grab her and pull her away from Will all but overwhelmed him.

  He didn’t give a damn what Will said. He was now certain he was going mad.

  Through the thrum of the blood roaring in his ears, he listened as she continued to talk to Will. “And I’d so take that back if I could, but I also am not, and will not, go through whatever meat-grinder wyrmhole we went through. Get me clothes, get me a car. I’ll drive to St. Louis and pay you back.”

  “That would be difficult.” Will flicked Finn a narrow look and then settled his glittering, silver gaze on the dark-haired woman. “You see, we aren’t in America. We aren’t even on the same continent. We’re in Scotland, and you’re quite right—a journey through that…wyrmhole…is out of the question.”

  “She can’t stay here—”

  Finn’s explosion was cut short by the woman’s sharp voice. “Excuse me, did you say Scotland?”

  “Yeah.” Finn gave her a dark look. “You ready to fly away home? Good. I’ll get you a ticket.”

  “Finn, sit down and shut up,” Will said, a steely command underlying his words.

  Finn curled his lip and flipped him off.

  A slap hit him mentally but he ignored it, glaring at Will. “She can’t stay here.”

  “You’ve yet to learn you don’t give the orders, lad,” Will warned. Then he gestured to the woman who watched everything with huge, startled eyes. “Finn, this is Kalypso. Kalypso…” There was an odd hesitation before he finished. “This is Finn.”

  Now, eyes narrowed, Will focused on Kalypso. “Kalypso, as I was saying, you’re quite right. A journey through the wyrmhole is out of the question. I’m not human, neither is he—”

  “I figured that with the freaky tattoos.” Kalypso shot Finn another look.

  Finn felt that look shoot straight through him, felt it in the pit of his stomach, echo right through his soul, a pang of recognition, of longing jolting through him. He wanted to carve her name on his brain.

  Not because he wanted to remember her, but so that he couldn’t forget who she wasn’t. She wasn’t the one who had carved her name on his soul lifetimes ago so there was no reason for him to feel this pervasive jealousy, this gut-wrenching need to get her away, far away—

  “—fo
und her down near the riverfront in St. Louis.”

  Finn whipped his head up as he felt Will’s gaze boring into him.

  Will had a silver brow lifted. “She not only recognized an orin…she killed him. Shot him between the eyes before the thing even realized she was a threat.” His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “I can send her wherever you like. I can send her to the farthest reaches of the planet, but she’ll do as she’s always done, what she’s done for a lifetime. If you want to argue with her, you can do that. But let’s get out of here first. I’m calling others in and we need a base of operations.”

  The past and the present kept trying to merge on me. It didn’t help that I was exhausted and kept trying to doze off. My brain felt like it was vibrating inside my skull and my skin was all but crackling from being trapped in a car with these two.

  And it hurt.

  It was almost a physical pain because as I sat huddled in the corner, my gaze locked on the back of Thom’s—no, he’s not Thom anymore—Finn’s neck, more memories kept breaking free.

  Times when we were children, and he’d taught me to swim.

  He’d taught me to shoot. I already knew how to ride, but he’d taught me to how to fly.

  But there were dark, ugly spots that wouldn’t come free, even when I poked at them, like prodding at a slowly healing wound just to see if it still hurts. And it did—like fire.

  Leave it alone.

  I hissed out a breath as those words echoed in my mind.

  Jerking my head up, I found Will’s silver gaze holding mine in the mirror. They narrowed and once more, those words shot through my mind. Leave it alone—you’re not ready for those memories.

  In a blink, the pressure in my mind was gone and his gaze focused on the road.

  I sucked in a desperate breath and turned my head to stare blindly out the window.

  Ready for…

  A chill raced through me.

  It was odd, wasn’t it? I remember so clearly the way I’d died. Each time some memory broke free, that was always the first. Those last, final moments.

  But the memories from the first life, I could remember nothing past the night when I all but dared Thom to make love to me.

  Just what was it that I wasn’t ready to remember?

  Unwittingly, my gaze drifted back the man sitting in front of me. What didn’t I remember…and what did it have to do with him?

  I don’t know, but those hidden memories left me aching, ready to cry, longing to fling myself at him and hold him, desperate to hold on and never let go.

  But that was out of the question, because one thing was painfully clear.

  He looked at me with desire—I’d seen it too often not to recognize it in a man’s eyes.

  He looked at me with suspicion—that was just fine because I looked at just about everybody the very same way.

  But most of all, he looked at me with the eyes of a stranger. He had absolutely no idea who I was, and that cut me straight through to my heart.

  It hurt more than I could possibly say.

  “Well. When you said we needed a sizeable location to serve as a base of operation, I had no idea this was what you had in mind.”

  Finn took in the sprawling, crumbling structure of stone perched on a cliff facing out over churning, steel gray water.

  And even before they appeared, he heard voices.

  “Sounds like somebody beat us here.”

  “Greta and Rip were in Germany. I suspected there were problems and started calling in the closest teams the moment you contacted me,” Will said, turning to look as Kalypso climbed from the car.

  Her gaze slid past him as if he wasn’t even there. Finn had the irrational urge to close the distance between them until he stood so close to her that she had no choice but to look at him.

  Distance, son. You need distance.

  Something scraped across his senses and he looked up, craning his head just as a petite woman appeared around the corner of the building. Even if Will hadn’t told him who was there, he would have recognized the odd feel of her power skittering down his spine. As she drew closer, he could make out the tight braid Greta used to constrain her curls, the milk-pale skin, eyes a soft summery blue.

  She looked young, sweet…innocent.

  She’d been one of the Grimm who had trained him. Centuries ago, when she’d still been human, she’d lived in Germany…with her step-brother, Hans. There had been no house with sugared windows and no witch with an oven for stray children. But Finn had no doubt that there had been monsters in her life. None of the Grimm seemed to be without them—not in their mortal lives, not in the new one where they walked as the Grimm.

  Keenly aware of somebody’s eyes on him, he focused on Greta and smiled. “Been a very long time, ma’am. You look as lovely as always.”

  “Finn.” Her lips curved upward as she came to a stop in front of him. “You went and grew some manners.”

  “I always had them. Just rarely use them.” He dipped his head, pressed a kiss to her cheek. She surprised him by catching him around the neck and hugging him.

  “How about you use them then, lad, and step away from my woman?”

  The voice was low, and not unfamiliar. Slanting a look over his shoulder, he watched as Rip slid out of the shadows like he belonged to them. In one hand, he carried a long staff. It appeared, at first glance, to be a walking staff. Finn knew better.

  As he remained where he was, Rip spun it, the move almost absent.

  Finn raked his nails down his cheek, felt the stubble scrape there. “Sweetheart, your man there is a bit possessive.”

  “You’ve no idea.” Greta looked mildly amused. She patted Finn on the shoulder. “It would be nice if we could visit Scotland without a war going on.”

  “Wouldn’t it?”

  “When were the two of you in Scotland?” Rip asked.

  “In the forties.” Greta moved to his side and linked hands before looking at Will. “Who is coming?”

  “Everybody I could reach who isn’t on something essential—sixty-one was the last count. I’m leaving Jack and Perci in charge back in North America. There’s a two-man team in South America and the same in Africa and Asia.”

  Greta’s eyes widened at the number. Rip let out a low whistle.

  Finn thought of the clawing, cloying evil that lingered everywhere. Sixty didn’t seem enough to him.

  Will reached up, absently touching the medallion at his neck. “I’m hoping to get Sina here, but she must be out of commission—there’s no answer and Luc is ignoring me.”

  “Out of commission?” Finn frowned.

  “Hurt,” Greta said sourly. “And if Will can’t reach Sina, then she’s hurt bad.” Her eyes shifted to the woman still standing by the car.

  Finn braced for the questions.

  But they didn’t come.

  Greta just stood there, eyeing her appraisingly. Rip looked like he had a thousand questions, but he took one look at his partner—both for life and in the endless war against the demons that plagued their world—and his face blanked.

  If he’d been hoping either of them would help him talk Will into taking her out of here, it looked like he was out of luck.

  Stasis was sometimes a calm, restful thing.

  Other times, it was like a glimpse into true hell.

  Right now, Sina was having one long, vivid glimpse and she couldn’t wait for it to be over.

  Some part of her knew she wasn’t alone.

  Luc was there.

  He’d been there when she fell, and if he hadn’t been, she’d be dead.

  A particularly enterprising group of orin had set up in Seattle and they had their own muscle, in the form of a bocan—the Irish’s own version of a boogeyman. Strong, mindless, bloodthirsty. She’d almost had him dealt with too.

&nb
sp; She’d have to remind Luc of that…when she emerged.

  In the back of her mind, she tried to think about all of those things instead of letting the images of the dream continue to taunt her, haunt her. It was unlike anything she’d ever imagined.

  She’d had glimpses into the netherplains before. Most of them had, although only Will commanded the ability to open a gate between their world and the demonic world at will.

  That was why their job was such a dicey one. If a demon was close enough to a living, breathing human when they slaughtered its host, it could jump into another body, but it had to be close. A hundred yards or so, and the hunt started all over again.

  It was a brutal, ugly job, but a manageable one, because while demons could tear open a rip and escape into the human world, once they killed the human host, as long as they kept it away from others, it was sucked back here, into this desolate hell.

  Dreaming…

  She rubbed her arms and tried to whisper it out loud. I’m only dreaming.

  But the words were snatched from her lips before she could speak them, nothing more than an echo in her memory.

  Yes, the endless gray world was desolate, and cold. Driven by wind, the earth was scarred with endless chasms and it stank with death and charred flesh and it was bereft of anything remotely human. Demons roamed here in their true forms, from the odd, dog-like appearance of the vankyr—if dogs were hairless and scaled and four feet at the shoulder, their teeth like jagged, yellow blades, to the bloated, staggering forms of the bocan—a mindless thing that had only the mind to find food—and kill.

  The demons driven by the need to feed on the sexual energy, and pain, were the closest to human, pale forms, their bodies hairless, eyes like black pits in their faces. Their limbs were long and slender and if they went too long without a feed—namely, without sex—those long, slender bodies withered away until they resembled little more than walking corpses.

  Sina nibbled her lip as she stood on a cliff staring down at what lay below her. She could see the demons, although she’d never seen anything quite like this. Not that she’d spent much time in Hell’s waiting room. That’s all the netherplains were, really. Maybe the demons liked to congregate together, sit around and talk. Chat.