Furious Fire: Grimm's Circle, Book 8

by Shiloh Walker

  And Mandy had woken panting, from a dead sleep, minutes before it happened, because she’d felt it, the pain tearing across her neck and the taste of death in the air, all around.

  Sometimes she thought it was because she spent so much of her time around Will, the uber-angel.

  Just now, all she wanted was to see him. See him, because something inside her was screaming…now, now…before it’s too late.

  She didn’t know precisely where he was, and she’d reached out, tried to ask.

  He’d ignored her each time, and that was weird. Will ignored a lot of people, but he’d never ignored her. Oh, he’d brush her off, but he’d at least acknowledge her question.

  Now, it was like a wall stood between them.

  It didn’t matter, though. She didn’t need him to tell her where he was, because she could feel him. A whisper of heat along her spine, the chill of death on her soul and she chased it.

  Chased it, and tried to ignore the tears that wanted to fall.

  Because it really was too late.

  The chance she’d never really expected to have was about to slip through her fingers anyway.

  The earth shook.

  I lurched to my feet even as it started to pitch and roll under me. Bracing myself with a wide stance, I shot a look upward.

  “It won’t collapse.”

  Looking over at the entryway, I grimaced and fought the urge to squint, because this woman was almost as brilliant against my weird inner senses as Will.

  She looked at me, hard, for a long moment, before muttering, “Son of a bitch.”

  Then she grabbed my gear from the floor. “Come on. We need to put you somewhere else.”

  I gaped at her.

  I thought about ignoring her as the ground rumbled beneath me once more.

  Off in the distance, I heard screams. They made my blood run cold.

  As she disappeared, I jogged after her, keeping the UMP in my hands and thanking God that I could halfway see where I was putting my feet as I tried to keep up with her. She disappeared around the back edge of the ruin just as I broke out into the watery twilight. It was almost night. I didn’t like that. Night was when…

  I dodged a look back.

  And immediately wished I hadn’t.

  When I’d tackled Will, stupidly, we’d tumbled into a brilliant, white opening. It had been…controlled, remaining perfectly round and the energy, even as I fell inside and it tried to rip me apart, had remained steady.

  The black rips appearing all over the clearing contracted and expanded, like they were vomiting things out of nothing. In the middle was a large void, a jagged, irregular rent that my eyes just wouldn’t focus on. It hurt too much and my ears hurt and my eyes wanted to bleed and fear choked me, just from looking—

  “Don’t!”

  A hard hand clamped around my arm and I was jerked around, half dragged toward the back end of the castle by the unknown woman. “That’s a gateway to a world that would drive you mad. Just those few glimpses are enough to scar you. Stop looking.”

  As I started to stumble along behind her, she let me go.

  Dimly, I was aware of her rubbing her hand along her pants.

  She shot me another look, narrowly and shook her head. “Why now?”

  At least that was what I thought she said, my ears were still echoing with weird chitters and wailing cries.

  When the thunder started, I wasn’t even surprised.

  Something grated and then I was shoved, unceremoniously into a dark, dank hole. “You’ve got light. It’s in the kit.”

  I stared dumbly at the bag she’d shoved at me.

  “Light,” she repeated slowly, like she was talking to a child. “It will last long enough.”

  Then she started to shove what looked like a massive boulder in front of the narrow hole—the only way in and out of that hole. I slapped my hand against it. “And what if everybody out there dies?” I demanded.

  She sighed sadly and then looked at the weapon I held. “If all of us fall, the best thing you could do would be to use that.”

  Then she moved the boulder like it was made of foam rubber.

  A shiver raced down my spine.

  Because she hadn’t been talking about shooting my way out.

  Slowly, I backed away, staring at the faint glimmer of light that made its way in around the stone.

  Was this how I’d come to it this time?

  He’d been so close and I hadn’t even gotten to touch him, hold him, hear him whisper my name.

  Of course, which name would I want to hear?

  My back bumped against a cool, slightly damp wall and I slowly sank down until I was on the floor.

  Maybe instead of coming to an awful, bloody end, I’d die slowly, because I’d never kill myself. I’d wait, until the awful, final end…hoping for a chance. After all, wasn’t that why I kept coming back?

  Looking up, I focused on a heaven I didn’t really believe in, somewhere beyond the rock and rubble that lay beyond the dark maw stretching out over my head. “I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  But nobody answered me.

  They probably couldn’t even hear me, not with all the inhuman, eerie wails coming from out there. Even through the stone, I heard them. I rested a hand on the kit she’d mentioned to me and then, slowly, I unzipped it and began to root around for the light.

  If I had to sit in here and wait for something to get through, then I needed to know what was around me.

  Maybe there really was a Hellmouth, Finn thought, watching as that pit yawned open before them.

  It had been…an hour? Two? Four? He’d lost track, but this had raged on for far too long and while they’d kept the demons from spilling past the area where they’d made their stand, they only managed to kill.

  Will hadn’t yet managed to stop them from crossing over.

  Three Grimm had died. Each death had been heralded by an eerie strike of lightning and Finn wondered how much longer they could withstand a seemingly endless flow of demons pouring through that tear between the worlds.

  His body hurt.

  His skin felt permanently singed.

  His back throbbed and he knew from the blood that continued to trickle down his hips and back that the wounds had yet to close. A couple of vankyr had tried to lay his spine open. Easiest way to kill a Grimm? Rip out the heart or remove the head. It felt like they’d tried to do both.

  As he cleared a path with flame, he stumbled over, fell back against a tree and watched as the pit vomited more of them out.

  Higher, he thought dully.

  He had to get higher.

  If he could, then maybe he could scorch them as they came through.

  Tipping his head back, he eyed the forest giant that towered over him and thought about the bloody mess of his body. Then he started to climb.

  Something caught his ankle about ten feet up.

  It felt oily and wrong, so he didn’t look down, just let the fire lose. As a scream ripped free below him, he continued his ascent. There was a bare spot about forty feet overhead—he’d make his stand there.

  Once he reached it, the full impact of the carnage hit him hard and he gripped a branch, tried to find some level of calm.

  If the Grimm stopped this mad influx of demons, he mused, focusing the fire inside and letting it grow…and burn…and consume…then they did and they went on business as usual.

  If he fell before that happened?

  Then he’d be with Becky.

  A smile curved his lips and he watched, waited—

  At that moment, Rip looked up from his position near the gaping maw. He glimpsed Finn and a dark smile lit his face. He bellowed out, “Fall back!”

  In that moment, Finn flung out the fire, watched as it flooded into the darkne
ss.

  Screams rose and the hair on the back of his neck lifted at the sound.

  Yeah. He could be done now. Go on and find her. Some part of him had held on, thinking maybe she’d be able to come back. She’d promised him, and unlike him, Becky didn’t break promises.

  He’d foolishly believed what he’d told her that one night they’d had together.

  Not even death could do that. Not now.

  He’d believed even death couldn’t separate them, but he’d been so wrong.

  The words she’d given him hadn’t been a promise, just a desperate, dying wish.

  As the first torrent of fire he’d sent died out, he released those flames and began to gather more, letting the fire grow inside…and let that one part of his mind drift back.

  She looked so afraid.

  Pale and tired and afraid. Thom could kill Sawyer for that alone. That monstrous heat ripped through him again and his hand tightened convulsively on his Colt.

  Sawyer laughed. “And what do you think you’ll do with that useless toy now?”

  He went to squeeze the trigger—murder had never felt so justified as it did in that moment. But the Colt felt all wrong. The mangled mess in his hand barely even resembled a pistol now but he was too dazed, too confused, too thrown off by everything to figure it out. He had another, of course. He only needed one pistol, one bullet.

  “Boy, you never—”

  “I still got…”

  Fury ate at him, burned inside him, like it would consume him. Thom could feel himself getting lost in it, in the heat of his own rage. Time slowed, almost to a crawl. All he needed was the one gun. The one bullet.

  So hot…

  A fire raged, exploding from the very earth under them and the rest of his words were lost to the screams and he found himself trapped in a vortex of heat.

  Above it all, though, there was one sound—one pained sound—that froze his heart.

  Through the haze of heat, through the flames that had come from nowhere, he saw Sawyer clutch Becky to him, then how she stiffened, agony tightening her features.

  In the seconds that felt like hours, she staggered and fell.

  The distance between them was only a few strides, but it could have been miles. It felt like it took him that long to get to her. Throwing himself to his knees, he caught her. The sight of her blood ripped at him.

  “Tommy…Tommy.”

  He caught her hand. “Becky.” His voice choked in his throat and he had to force the words out. “Hang on, my darlin’ girl. Just hang on. You’ll be fine.”

  “No.” Her lids drooped. “I won’t.”

  “Don’t close your eyes!” he shouted at her.

  Her lashes fluttered.

  “Don’t die on me. You can’t leave me,” he begged. How could this happen? Why… “You can’t.”

  “If I had a choice, I never would. Forgive me, Tommy. I’m so sorry.”

  Desperate, he pressed his lips to hers. “Don’t die. I came back for you…you can’t leave me.”

  “It’s not up to me.” A sigh shuddered out of her and then she turned her face into his chest.

  He started to rock her as the pain, the fury, the denial mounted inside him.

  “You came back.” Her voice was softer, weaker. “I’m sorry you came back to this.”

  “You…” Threading his fingers through her hair, he blinked back the tears and pressed his forehead to hers. He’d come back. She could, too. Bring her back to me, he demanded, a silent order sent out to God. There had to be one, didn’t there? He’d died, but he was still here. Save her, please.

  She was so cold.

  “Tell me you’ll come back to me,” he demanded, voice ragged. The knot in his throat was choking him. “If I can do it, so can you. Tell me you will.”

  “If it were possible, I’d come back…a thousand…times…sweetheart. Just to find…you again.” She smiled, breath rattling out of her as she whispered, “I love you.”

  “Becky…no! Don’t…you can’t die on me! I love you!” he shouted it. He begged. He pleaded. And still she lay lifeless in his arms.

  He’d come back…but for what?

  “Come back to me,” he whispered. Over and over, as the church burned around him. He didn’t care. “Come back to me.”

  Come back…

  He’d begged for just that, silently, aloud, so many times and in so many ways. He’d hoped. He’d prayed.

  Then he’d just given up.

  Now, with that memory chasing him, he thought maybe he was ready to let go and be with her.

  But first…this.

  He called the fire that had come to him that first day and threw it.

  Over and over. Mind void of everything but the memories…and the demons who’d taken her from him.

  By the time he heard Rip calling his name, Finn had exhausted himself. Even his skin felt cold.

  Sinking to the wide, thick arm of the tree where he’d settled, he sat and rested his head, panting despite his lack of need for oxygen.

  Becky…

  She’d gone limp in his arms. Her wide eyes sightless, that dark brown gaze locked on nothing—

  He froze.

  Becky didn’t have dark brown eyes.

  Hers had been bright and blue, like the summer sky.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to shove the image off. A voice drifted to him, almost like she was standing there, murmuring in his ear.

  “Sure thing…sweetheart.”

  His heart began to race, past and present merging.

  Past and present tried to merge.

  Becky’s pale face, the few freckles dancing across her nose, and those bright, vivid blue eyes…eyes that had known only laughter and love in her life. The image faded, morphing in his own mind as it merged into another face. Smooth, tawny skin, eyes darker than the darkest of chocolate, eyes that knew too much pain— “Sure thing…sweetheart.”

  He stiffened and tried to brush aside the odd sense of foreboding.

  Don’t call me sweetheart.

  Instinct, some driving, dragging need started to claw at him. Rational thought cut in. You’ve lost your mind, son. Wishful thinking, that’s all this is. Let it go…

  But he couldn’t. His limbs were stiff as he rose to his feet, his body tired, aching more than he could recall in a long, long time.

  He ignored the aches, ignoring everything but the ruin on the hill in front of him.

  Sure thing…sweetheart.

  His ears picked up familiar noises—executions, furious swears, mocking laughter.

  Rip’s voice, conversing softly with Will—“This isn’t done. They’ll regroup. We might have an hour—”

  Sina’s voice. “Can’t you close—?”

  He tuned them all out, because only one thing mattered and now the draw he’d been feeling toward her was even stronger. He started to walk, then jog, and then he was running, clearing the distance in only seconds.

  He came to a stop just a few yards from the arched entryway, noticed the demons fallen around it—their mortal bodies slumped, their husks devoid of life. Their human hosts had died. The demons weren’t dead, though. They could only die on the demonic plain and they’d been sucked back there. They’d try again, as soon as they were strong enough.

  They’d try again. Over and over—

  He pushed that that frustrating thought aside. No time for it, not now. He needed to find her—

  A pair of bodies blocked the hallway and he stopped abruptly, even as a voice murmured, hurry, hurry.

  Tomoe sat on the ground, clutching Yan to her chest, crying silently. He paused, touched a hand to her shoulder. She acknowledged it with a brief nod. He said nothing.

  Understanding that some grief just went too deep, he moved away, leaving her alo
ne. Ahead, he glimpsed the room where they’d put Kalypso.

  It was empty—

  Void of life.

  He all but flew the final feet.

  No heartbeat.

  Sure thing…sweetheart.

  His mind spun with memories, a confusing morass of them now.

  You…I’ve been waiting.

  They are demons and my job is to kill them and protect my patients.

  I missed you…forgive me, my love.

  A handful of faces began to merge, melting away and reforming, over and over and over—

  If it were possible, I’d come back a thousand times sweetheart. Just to find you again.

  I’d come back a thousand times…

  That voice echoed in his mind as he stood in the doorway of the empty room.

  It was like a veil had been ripped away from his eyes and he went to his knees, howling.

  He plunged a fist against the stone, once, twice, a third time. Skin split and it was the scent of blood that drew him to his senses. There was no blood here—

  Rising, he tore off down the hall, dodging the broken, bloodied bodies as he began to search.

  The rest of his brothers-and-sisters-in-arms had yet to clear the area. Demons had made it into the woods and were being forced back, many of them already dead, but some were dragged back, forced to answer questions.

  Somebody called his name, but he ignored it, coming to a stop as he tilted his head back and listened.

  A low, sibilant noise caught his ears.

  The scrape of rock on rock—

  He wheeled around, followed it.

  He caught sight of them just before the two incubae plunged into the inky darkness.

  Sina gave up fighting with Will.

  If he said he couldn’t close the gate, she’d have to believe him. For all his stubbornness, he was their leader for a reason and he’d fought this war for two millennia.

  Besides, there was a low, insistent tug in her gut and she needed to follow it.

  Bodies were piled high and centuries upon centuries of experience let her gauge the damage. Likely three hundred demons, or more. If Finn hadn’t managed to find high ground, more of them would have escaped. As it was, Rip was going to have to send some of the trackers out—and soon—so they could hunt down the few who had managed to slip by them.