The low, angry rise of voices flooded the air and as one, a line of bodies flowed forward.
Brilliant light—white tinged with gold—exploded, like a controlled nuclear burst, flooded the air. They were all flung back.
As the light slowly faded, they fought to find their feet.
Only the brilliant man with hair that gleamed of gold and eyes that shone like fiery bronze remained standing.
“It was his choice,” the man murmured.
In that moment, a black feather drifted down.
The man looked up.
All of them watched as a black form manifested over them…first a fog, then a man…with wings.
He alighted on the ground, on the far side of the field, well away from the others.
He looked at none of them, save for the gleaming creature that continued to watch the empty place that had swallowed Will whole.
“A life for a life.” His voice was thunder and death and cold, deadly fear.
“This is no place for you, Crow,” the man said, finally looking up.
The tall, dark creature shrugged and cold trailed behind as he came closer, kneeling down, his wings spread out behind him as he touched the ground. He said nothing but then he rose.
“Go,” the golden one said.
Crow bared his teeth in a horrible, beautiful smile.
Then he stretched out his wings, flinging himself into the air. He disappeared before he even cleared the treeline, his powerful body fading into nothing.
“Bring him back,” Mandy said, staring at the man who’d stolen Will. That was what he’d done. Stolen him, taken him before she’d even had a chance to try and chase after him. “Bring him back or let me go with him. He can’t do this alone.”
“Alone.” The son of a bitch smiled at her. “He made the choice to be alone millennia ago. His choice, child. Not mine.”
Then he turned—and as they watched, he did much the same as Crow, flinging himself into the air. And then, wings erupted from his back, wings that gleamed the bronze of his eyes. He turned and hovered over them and every last one of them felt the impact of his gaze.
Every last one of them glared back as he spoke. “He’ll fight that battle. It is his alone. And you, you have yours. The rest of you, you must find those who slid through. Go…Grimm,” he said, his voice thick with mockery. “Your job isn’t done.”
Chapter Fourteen
“We should leave.”
They were alone.
Save for Mandy. She had gone to her knees on that circle of grass and spread her hands on it, staring down as though that alone would cause that dark gate to open back up, as though her will alone would bring back the grim, silent angel she loved with everything in her.
Sina had admired Will.
She had cared for him.
She had liked him, and after a time, she had come to love him—as a brother. Brothers-, sisters-in-arms. They’d been that, for ages untold.
But none had truly loved him. Not the way he’d needed.
Except the young Grimm kneeling on the grass.
“She won’t accept this,” she said quietly. New, unfamiliar powers swelled inside her and as though time and space all merged into one, she could see the years falling away and Mandy coming back here, time after time after time. To do this same thing, over and over.
Waiting.
As though her resolve alone could return Will to them—to her.
“Have you?” Luc asked.
Turning her head, she looked at him. “No,” she responded and to her horror, her voice was husky. “No.”
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, chilled from within. “I know you didn’t care for him, but he is…he was my friend. One of my dearest. One of my closest. He’s lost to me.”
From behind her, warm arms closed around her and she willingly sank back against him. “I didn’t like him. However, I had all the respect in the world for him and the job he did, the burden he carried century after century. This…this isn’t as it should be. If any can survive it, it’s him.”
“He isn’t meant to survive,” she said, her voice thick.
Luc stiffened.
Easing away, she tipped her head back, staring up at the path in the sky—not the one that brilliant, unknown angel had taken. But the other. The dark one, the wraith known only as Crow. Both she and Luc had met him, months before.
A life for a life.
Will had had the choice—he could have commanded the soldiers under him to go. Thirty of them would have better odds at surviving. But he had shouldered the burden.
A soft, broken sob came to her ears and she looked back at Mandy.
“Let me go to her,” she said quietly. “We need to go.”
“She won’t want to leave. Not yet.”
Sina blinked back the tears. “I know. But for now, she must. It won’t be safe. Mortals will come.” She looked back at the castle, eyed the explosives they’d set around the perimeter, all the bodies piled within. They’d taken the remains of their friends. They’d have a fitting burial but the rest, they had to be destroyed here, and without any chance of the remains being discovered. Finn’s affinity with fire would come in handy there. Little but ash would remain by the time he was done. “Questions will be asked. For now, we have to pull back. She must come. It’s the least I can do…for him.”
“Yes.” Luc’s hands fell away. “You know she’ll be back.”
Sina nodded.
And then she started forward. Every step was a brutal, fatal blow.
Mandy felt her coming.
She tightened her hands in the grass.
But it wasn’t the green of the grass she saw.
It wasn’t scorched trees or bloodied dirt or piled bodies, or even the ruined castle.
Will’s face. That impossibly beautiful face as he lowered his gaze to her one final time.
“You can’t do this to me. Don’t you know what you’re doing?”
Then, he’d kissed her—in that moment, she felt her heart shatter, and she knew. She’d never have him. It was over, even though he stood there, right in front of her, closer than he’d ever allowed.
Silvery eyes cut into her and then, impossibly, he’d smiled, ran his knuckles across her cheek. She could still feel that touch. She’d feel it until the day she died—for real this time. If it happened now, it would be minutes too late, because any minute without him was too much.
“Yes. Because I’m doing it to me as well. But you must understand. This, you, me…it could have never happened. Happiness was something I was never meant to have. And you would have made me happy. If I could have let myself, I would have loved you.”
“Will,” she whispered, as the tears continued to fall.
“Mandy.” A hand curved over her shoulder.
She jerked away and ended up curled there, sitting in a ball with her knees drawn to her chest.
Sina crouched next to her. “Baby, we must leave,” Sina said, her voice gentle. “We have to burn this place. Now. Mortals will come. You can’t be here. They’ll find you.”
“Let them,” she said dully. So what if they threw her in jail? Without him, what did anything matter?
She stroked a hand down the grass.
Something soft caught under her hand and she frowned.
When she closed her hand around it and lifted it up, it didn’t make sense at first.
A feather.
Black as a crow’s.
A life for a life.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to the wide-open expanse of sky, aware of a slow burning anger inside her. A life for a life. “They took mine as well,” she whispered. “And what did I do to deserve it?”
“Nothing.”
She glanced over and realized that Sina seemed to understand exactly what she meant.
/> “Mandy, please.” She held out a hand. “He was my dearest, my oldest friend. I can do nothing else for him save this—don’t make me leave you here, alone. If the last thing I can do for him is to be there for you, then let me.”
Mandy dropped the feather, unable to stand the feel of it, the sight of it. “That’s dirty, Sina. Very dirty.”
“I don’t play fair.” Sina smiled, but it was wobbly and tired. “Haven’t you heard?”
“I can’t let myself believe he’s gone,” Mandy said, her voice harsh. “I can’t.”
“I don’t want to believe it either.”
Mandy snarled, shoving to her feet and moving away, barely aware how fast she’d moved. She’d put nearly fifty feet between them without even realizing it. “It has nothing to do with want.” Her voice vibrated with rage. “I can’t. If want had anything to do with it, then I’d rip this away.”
She touched the medallion at her neck. “I’d rip away. I’d give up my wings and then chase down the first demon I could find. If I were dead, I could find him.” Her voice broke and the strength drained away. “I could find him. Be with him. But I can’t. Because I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“He’s trapped,” she whispered, looking back at the pit. “And that’s even worse. I can’t leave him there.”
For a long time, nobody spoke.
Then, finally, Sina held out a hand. “There is nothing to be done. Not yet. He was sent to do a job and it won’t be an easy one. We’ve a task before us as well. The first thing you have to do is rest…and then, we have to plan.”
“Plan.”
“Yes.” Sina angled her head. “If he’s trapped, there’s no getting to him without understanding what happened, is there?”
Finn would have been lying if he tried to say he didn’t understand happiness.
It had just been too damn long since he’d experienced it. Even in his dreams, the flashes of happiness he had were all too short, all too fleeting. Sometimes, he’d have a glimpse of it in the lives of others.
He could experience it vicariously then. When he saw a mother grab her child close for a tight, almost greedy hug, as though she realized in some hidden part of her how precious those times were. Or a slow, lingering kiss between an old couple who’d spent their lives together, who had watched a thousand sunsets, had held hands on a thousand cold nights.
Yes. He knew what happiness was.
It was almost a bitter mockery to feel it now.
Now, after everything that had happened.
It wasn’t right to be happy, to lie in a soft, warm bed, curled around a woman he barely knew—even if her soul felt as familiar to him as his own name.
Her body was long and lean, supple curves and taut muscle a reminder of the life she’d been living. She was already drifting into wakefulness and her sleep had been fragmented. Something uneasy had brushed against his soul all throughout the night, remnants of nightmares that weren’t his own.
It wasn’t in him to comfort, especially after the events of the past few days.
But all he could do, with her, was press his lips to her brow as she slept and try to soothe.
As morning drew closer, she became still, her body almost cold, like the calm before the storm.
She’d waken soon. And then…
He shouldn’t feel happy, not for this.
Last night, a man he’d known for easily two mortal lifetimes had given his own life up to save them.
Finn knew it as well as he knew his own name.
Sometimes Will drove him absolutely insane, but he also knew that if Will was anything less than what he was, Finn would have gone truly insane…and he wouldn’t have been worth anything by the time Becky…no. She was Kalypso now. It didn’t matter what she called herself. They’d found each other. That was all that mattered.
If it weren’t for Will, he wouldn’t have been worth anything by the time Kalypso had found him. It had taken so long, but he guessed that was just how it was meant to be. Both of them had to grow into who they needed to be for the lives they now had.
Somehow, Will had made sure they found each other.
Finn was under no illusion that Will had any control over that—control was nothing but an illusion anyway. He did know that Will had damn well made sure they found each other.
And now the man was gone.
Closing his eyes, Finn pressed his face against her hair while the twisting emotions warred inside him.
Bliss, because he held her in his arms, after so long.
Guilt, that it had taken him so long to see.
Grief, for the friends and comrades who’d died last night…and most of all…grief for Will.
Awareness came on too hard, too fast.
I remembered choking on my blood. Seeing Thom—no. He was Finn now. I’d seen him, and he’d seen me. He’d known me.
And then the demon. The despair of it all.
Those thoughts chased me even as I tried to flee from all of it in my dreams.
Finally, it seemed I’d found some sort of refuge, a formless, vast darkness. It was warm and soft and I floated. Floated…floated…no.
Arms held me. There was a bed. A hard, muscled form lay against my back and as I breathed in, there was a scent that was both foreign and achingly familiar.
I wanted to speak, but I was caught in that weird place between dreams and waking.
Too many thoughts flooded me. Faces drifted in, faces from those dreams. The woman, dusky skin, hair like jet—I’d seen her. At the church, that final day. And then…my mind spun away even as I remembered choking on blood while she hovered over me.
Her voice, coming from somewhere above, around…
You better hope she doesn’t ever learn of what you were thinking there, boy. She’ll thrash you good and sound.
Despair, then. So thick it choked me.
I moaned. Where was all this coming from?
A hand stroked my brow. “Shhh…”
Finn. That was Finn. I latched onto that and tried to turn into him, but I couldn’t move. The arms holding me tightened.
Another memory slammed into me as his lips brushed my temple.
But…this was no memory.
Will.
…a huge tear—
Drive you mad…one of them had told me that. Those rips I’d seen, like somebody had ripped open the fabric of the world. But this one was huge. And Will had been on the edge of it. Then plunging down—
I jolted upright with a panicked cry.
It was almost an hour later when Finn finally finished explaining—or trying to—just what was going on. What had happened.
Angels.
Demons.
What I was…now.
What I’d been fighting all these lives.
And the memory that I’d somehow picked up from his mind.
“It’s almost ironic,” he said to me now as he stood at a window.
“What? This crazy dance we’ve been doing for the past hundred and fifty years?” My voice was barely a rasp right now. I’d had almost a gallon of water and I was still thirsty. My throat was healed, but I imagined I could still feel the blade.
“No. That’s just…” He looked at me, and his eyes glinted with a hard light. “I can’t explain what that is. I’m talking about…” He reached up and tapped his brow. “All of us come into a gift. Some of us have a weak trace of it when we first come over. That’s usually how it works really. It gets stronger as we age. I’ve got a head like a rock, I’ve been told. It takes the older ones who have a really strong mental ability to see anything inside my head. You are hours old and you’re pulling out my memories. That’s just fantastic.”
I licked my lips and studied a spot on the wall next to him for a long moment before I finally said, “Maybe it’s not a gift so much as
…our connection.”
“Maybe.” He went back to staring out the window.
And I went back to thinking about that memory—one I didn’t really want to have.
Will had thrown himself down into some kind of hell. That was the best I could understand.
Angels shouldn’t have to die.
But I had a feeling he had plunged to his death.
A few days ago, all I’d wanted was to get away from him, because I had the weirdest feeling he had my life—or death—in his hands.
Now all I could think about was the agony I felt in Finn. And the fact that if it wasn’t for Will, I wouldn’t be sitting here, with the man I’d spent lifetimes trying to find.
Thinking about it all left my chest so tight, I could barely breathe. Of course, I’d realized over the past hour—I didn’t have to breathe. My heart beat but if I decided not to breathe, the most I felt was a tightness in my chest like my lungs needed to adjust and then, even that faded, and after a time, my heart had even ceased to beat.
A soft sigh drifted from him and I looked up. Those wide shoulders were slumped. The look on his face was familiar to me, even after all this time. “You’re tired,” I said softly. “Have you slept?”
“I don’t need much sleep.” He came toward me and my skin started to flush—I was almost acutely aware of how the blood rushed to my face, to my neck, heating my skin. Heating me. He reached out, trailed a finger down my nose, then along my cheek, my chin, up to run it along my hairline before he pushed his hand into my hair, combing it through the tangled curls.
Self-conscious, I tried to ease back. “I should shower.” Needed to shower, comb through the tangled wreck the past few days must have made of my hair.
But he didn’t let me pull back.
Instead, he tugged me off the couch and onto his lap.
My breath hitched, caught. It wasn’t a bad place to be, not really.
Burnt copper eyes cut into me and he continued his slow, thorough tactile study, like he had to learn all the differences. But they went so much deeper than skin.
“I’m not her,” I said bluntly. “I remember her. I remember you. Bits and pieces of that life are becoming clearer. But everything that’s happened since then—there’s no way I can be the same woman I was then. If that’s who you’re hoping to find…” My breath skittered out of me as he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to the curve of my neck. Oh. Oh, my. That felt so nice.
Furious Fire: Grimm's Circle, Book 8 Page 20