The Grimm Files Collection Boxed Set

by Selene Charles

  I tried to find Elle from my periphery, but we’d been separated, and I could no longer even hear the king’s clanging steel—only the screams and the cries of the wounded.

  “Who are you?” I asked, changing tactics. I wasn’t going to be able to beat the thing this way, because the more I gave of myself, the more it stole, and I could not afford to give it any more of me. If I did, the results could be catastrophic.

  But it didn’t answer. So I tried again, eyeing the tall, straight figure. The robes clung to its clearly muscular frame. I was surprised it merely stood there. It was obvious to me that it had the upper hand, but it wasn’t even attempting to fly away as its compatriot had. It just stood there, staring at me through dark eyeholes that made it appear sinister and wicked.

  I looked at its boots made of black leather with silver rings and studs on it. It stood in the fighting stance before me, but it didn’t make a move. So long as I remained calm, so did it.

  It, too, wore an elaborate golden mask, but there was something different about this Slasher, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. The way it moved, it was more elegant, more… defined?

  “What do you want? The gold?” I tried again. “Why are you here, really? And more importantly, how did you get through the king’s security?”

  This time, the Slasher didn’t mimic my movement, because I cocked my head to the left, and it cocked its to the right. Then it took a slow and measured stepping sort of glide forward, and in my heart, I understood that whatever temporary stalemate we’d shared was coming to an end.

  Most of the civilians were cleared out. There were many fallen bodies around me, but I didn’t smell a lot of blood or the offending sweet decay of the newly deceased, which meant either they were playing possum, or they’d fainted. Some were dead but not as many as there could have been.

  I tamped down the burn of my powers, which ached for release. But I felt the heat sliding up behind my eyes and knew that soon my pupils would glow with its flame.

  My nostrils flared.

  The Slasher was so close to me that I could smell it—sweet, sickly sweet. I curled my lip, grimacing at the scent of almonds.

  I knew that smell, recognized it instantly as the musk of death. I narrowed my eyes. “What are you?” I whispered, and it raised its gauntleted fist. The fire in my eyes burned. My fingertips began to burn. My insides swirled, my blood rolling through my veins like a serpent’s venom. Little licks of fire began to glow within me. All I would need to do was let it go, and I could drown the world in it.

  My lips pulled back, exposing my teeth. “I do not wish to end you, Slasher, but I will,” I warned. “I will.”

  There was no laughter, no quiver whatsoever. If the masked creature heard me, it didn’t seem to care. It all happened so fast. The robed figure reached for me, long claws extended, viscous fluid leaking. Drip. Drop. Drip. Each drop hitting the marble floor hissed and burbled as the acid ate right through it like a hot knife cutting through butter. I could only wonder what that substance was doing to me. Was I growing weaker not because of the creature but because of that initial strike of its claws to my chest?

  That made more sense. And if that was the case, then what in the hells was that stuff?

  I lifted my hand, palm aching with the fire that I would not release until I’d placed my hand upon the creature’s chest, then I would propel a jet of flame through its body, its bloodstream, its bones, killing it from the inside out, leaving nothing behind but a still-intact outer shell, its innards completely burned to a cinder.

  And just as I was about to finally release that torrent of fire, as my hand began to glow bright, fiery red, Elle was suddenly there behind the black robed figure, her face a mask of deadly beauty as she mimed for me to clamp my hands over my ears. I had less than a second to do as she bade before she opened her mouth and the full fury of her deadly song dropped the robe to its knees.

  Her song was so shrill that all around us, goblets of crystal exploded into a million tiny projectiles. There were cries, and then there was silence.

  I stayed where I was for a moment, blinking in a daze, realizing I was still me somehow, and Elle was glowing like a goddess of burning blue.

  “You okay?” she asked, voice still trapped somewhere between the sultry rasp of the siren and the elegant refinement of the detective.

  I frowned, sliding my hand over my paint-slicked hair and nodding. “The king?”

  “Safe.” She shook her head, toeing the robe, who now lay prostate at our feet. The only sign of life was the gentle, rhythmic glide of breath expanding its chest in intermittent bursts.

  “Casualties?”

  She shook her head again. “I don’t fecking know how its possible, but very, very few. Lots of flesh wounds but nothing that won’t heal.” Elle swallowed hard, her blue eyes glowing like activated phosphorescence, attesting to her heightened emotions. I knew we were both wondering how the Slashers had infiltrated the event, but neither of us was asking it yet, because my brain was having a hard time accepting what had just happened.

  Few, if any casualties. Slashers inside of an event more tightly controlled and warded than a dragon’s lair. And apart from the one lying at my feet, no actual Slashers to speak of. Nothing but discarded robes lay scattered about with piles of sand at their center.

  The wealth out on full display had been left unmolested. What was this? What had just happened?

  “None of this makes sense,” she muttered, staring around with a hard frown stamped on her forehead and pinching the corners of her eyes.

  Around us, there were dozens of discarded black robes.

  “Agreed,” I grunted, beginning to feel the pain of my injuries as a low but building throb literally radiated off every inch of me. I applied pressure to my side, hissing and trembling as the pain of my injuries were starting to make itself manifest. My head, my chest… hells, even the balls of my feet ached.

  Her eyes hooked to mine, and she gazed at me holding onto my side. “You hurt?”

  “I’ll live,” I muttered.

  She shrugged and shook her head. “We need to go debrief the king, see if he saw anything leading up to this. Then we have to call this in. Damn it all,” she growled, glancing down at the robed figure at our feet. “None of this makes any fecking sense whatsoever.”

  “Every other black robe is a pile on the ground,” I said slowly, thoughtfully, “so why is this one not as well? Why didn’t it shift and fly away?”

  Her lips twisted, then she knelt. “I don’t know. But at least we’ve got one of the bastards, and this ought to make Bo shite her pants. It’s a helluva lot more than we’ve had in a year.” She laid a hand upon the chin portion of the golden mask.

  I shook my head. “Elle, maybe we should cage it, ship it over to the witches first. Because you’re right, this was too easy. Too different. I’m not sure we should trust— ”

  She slipped the mask off, then all the blood drained from her heart-shaped face, and she said one word that sounded like a gun blast in my ears.

  “Hook?”

  CHAPTER 25

  DETECTIVE ELLE

  I BLINKED. Then I blinked again because I was sure that it was some type of dark-magick mirage.

  But the softly parted mouth, the elegantly handsome face in repose—I’d seen it so many times in reality and in dreams that haunted me still every single night.

  He had a shadow of dark scruff on his square jaw. His nose was long, slightly crooked along the bridge, his mouth full and looking softly pliant.

  I swallowed hard, brain reeling, lost for words as I drank in the sight of the only male I’d ever truly loved. I shook my head, hearing sounds echoing around me, but it was like listening to leggers—full time land walkers—talking on land while I swam beneath the waves. Tinny and distorted.

  I frowned, hungrily sweeping my gaze over his prone form. It wasn’t possible.

  My hands were somehow on his chest, and I grabbed his right arm and s
hoved the end of his sleeve back, then there was a flash of silver from a long s-curved hook, and I heard another sound, like that of a choking, dying beast.

  Hands were on my shoulders, shaking me roughly. “Snap out of this, Elle. Snap out of this!”

  It was Maddox. I could recognize the whiskey-like grit of his voice. But there was something else in there other than mere worry, an undertone of emotion. I shook my head, latching onto his wrist.

  How was I on my arse? When had I fallen? I couldn’t even remember, but he was kneeling in front of me, holding my face in his hands, his multicolored eyes gleaming with licks of fire at their center.

  “It’s not possible,” I croaked. “No. Not. Possible.”

  His nostrils flared, and he glanced over his shoulder at the still prostrate form of something that was not my Hook but wore his face.

  “He… he died. He died, Maddox. He died.” It was as if I was pleading, begging with him. I didn’t know what I was saying or even doing, but his face was a blur as my waters filled my eyes and I shook my head.

  I was losing my grip, my skin was crawling, and this time, the powers of my siren felt darker, tighter, far more dangerous, as it had the time Maddox had been forced to take me to Alice’s to help fix me. I could feel the rising thrum of its madness leaking through my pores.

  Maddox’s hands began to burn with heat. My skin sizzled, ached, but the pain brought focus, clarity.

  “Listen to me, Elle,” he whispered heatedly. “Listen. Do you hear me? Are you with me?”

  Every time he asked me that, I felt myself being pulled back, away from that abyss that would swallow me whole, obliterate my ability to think rationally.

  His green eye was blazing like a jewel. He was seeing another vision of the future, but I didn’t want to share with him this time. Around us, I felt the pounding of heels, the rushing movement of heavy bodies coming at us, coming for Hook.

  I shuddered.

  Hatter shook his head. “Only worry about me right now. Look at my face. I’m here. Are you’re okay?”

  I swallowed and nodded once, still jittery but hearing him.

  “Good. Just breathe, Detective.” His thumb kept softly brushing at my clavicle. The glide of his hot skin against mine was like an anchor drawing me back.

  I took one last shuddering breath then angrily swiped at my cheeks with the backs of my wrists.

  “We don’t know what this is, only that it is the darkest magick. That might not even be Hook, Elle. I sense great magick, foul and tainted, emanating off that form. Whatever did this, whoever did this, its just trying to get at you.”

  What he said actually made sense. Why anything would want to get at me specifically was beyond me, but he was right. There was no way that was my Hook. None. He’d faded in my arms. That strange man, then, was Maddox’s vision of Hook finally realized. It had to be.

  I felt myself better able to think rationally once again. It was impossible. He’d faded to sea foam. In fact, if I went back to my eternal pools, I knew I’d feel the essence of him still move upon the waves.

  I dug my fingers into Maddox’s wrist, holding him fast to me, needing his strength as I’d rarely needed another’s before.

  The mania of just seconds earlier was fading. I was getting stronger again. Hatter’s hands slid up the curve of my neck. The touch of his skin on mine was warm and comforting. I gripped him tight and nodded silently again.

  “I’m okay, Maddox,” I whispered. “I’m okay.”

  “Elle, are you all right?” It was Midas’s voice over my shoulder, a note of anxiety in it that finally made me recall where we were and why. Hatter and I broke apart slowly. He lifted me gently to my feet, keeping one arm around my waist to help steady me. I didn’t need his arm to keep me upright. I was okay. But it was oddly comforting, so I said nothing.

  “I…” I took a deep, shuddering breath. That wasn’t my Hook. That was an imposter, nothing more. And with that thought, I felt the full returning of my thoughts and senses. The temporary scrambling of my wires was no more.

  “She is well. She took a heavy blow from that… thing,” Hatter growled softly, gesturing toward the prone body of the thing that was not my Hook with his thumb.

  “I will fetch my doctor and—” Midas sucked in a sharp breath. His entire body went rigid and tense. “What? What is this dark magick?” he hissed, backing up quickly on his heels as he made a sign of the cross upon himself.

  I shook my head. Midas had known my Hook. In fact, Midas had been the one who’d first made introductions.

  His eyes cut to mine, shock clearly stamped in them. His face bore tiny scratches on his cheeks and one nasty gash on his forehead that would definitely require stitches—adding more of a rugged appeal to his pretty looks than he normally had. “Elle, is that— ”

  “No,” I cut him off sharply, curling my fingers tightly around Maddox’s elbow, drawing my strength from him. “No. That isn’t him. I don’t know who or what that is, but it isn’t him.”

  Midas frowned, looking deeply disturbed, before giving a slow nod. “As you say.”

  With one last silent squeeze, I finally and very reluctantly pulled away from the strength of Maddox’s arm. He’d been injured in the fight too. I could see the pinched look around his eyes and mouth, the slight graying of his flesh even beneath the tint of gold paint that had begun to flake off in spots. In all the drama, I’d failed to note how gingerly Hatter was treating his left side. “What has happened here, Midas? How did they get through?”

  Looking every inch the regal king, he turned his full lips up just at the edges in a slight snarl. “When I find out, there will be hells to pay. I can assure you heads will roll for this.”

  It wasn’t an idle threat. Midas might be a good-time king, but he took his reputation very seriously, and right now, he was no doubt feeling as though he bore a scarlet letter.

  Biting my lower lip, I glanced at Hatter from the corner of my eye. His face was blanched, and he was gripping his ribs still. I could have lost him, too, tonight. And the very thought of that made me ache, made me furious, but not a heated anger. It was a cold, icy fury that ate away at my mind. As a woman of the law, I couldn’t encourage Midas in his pursuit of blood, but I felt that same need for vengeance.

  “Are you missing anything?” Maddox asked, voice steady, though now that I’d noticed he wasn’t doing well, he actually seemed to be looking worse by the second.

  I sidled in closer to him, wanting to wrap an arm around his waist. But we were no longer pet and goddess. We were on the clock again, and we were just partners.

  Not lovers. Not anything.

  I bit down on my molars, curling my hands into fists.

  Midas tossed one arm out to encompass the chaos of what was left. The people that had been huddled on the ground earlier were slowly making their way to their feet, running away and not looking back.

  “Too soon to tell,” he said, deep in thought, before glancing back down at the still form of the thing that was not my Hook. A worried frown twisted his handsome features.

  I looked not at the thing that wasn’t Hook but at my old friend. As if sensing my study of him, he looked back up at me.

  “How was this possible? And furthermore, why here? All my most prized possessions are on full display for all the realms to see, yet they appear to remain as they were. Nothing but piles of robes and sand are all that’s left, and then there’s him.” He jerked his chin toward the thing that wasn’t my Hook.

  I shook my head, not having a clue, either. “I have to call this in. I will be contacting you in a few days once you’ve had more time to go over everything and make sure nothing was stolen. But if you learn anything, if you find anything— ”

  Stepping forward, Midas made to reach out for me. But he wasn’t wearing gloves or even gauntlets, and I quickly stepped back, placing my palm upon my throat. The pulse point beat like a hummingbird’s wing as I stared back at him.

  Midas gripped the air, cur
ling his fingers so tightly back into his palms that his knuckled whitened. He bit down on his molars so hard that the muscles in his cheeks twitched. He gave me a short bow. I’d hurt him, but it couldn’t have been helped. One touch of his flesh to mine, and I would be no more.

  “Of course. I will tell you anything you wish to know.” His tone was brusque.

  I closed my eyes for half a second longer than was normal and nodded. “Thank you, my old friend. Maddox, please prepare the prisoner for transport.”

  I looked at him, and he nodded. His movements were slow, and because I’d worked with him so long, I could tell that he was in pain, but unless one really knew him, they would never know he was only moving at fifty percent. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself right now, and I would honor his wishes. It was business as usual between us.

  “Goodbye, old friend.” I turned one last time toward Midas, who nodded back at me.

  “If your father could see you now,” he said.

  I snorted. “He’d curse me all over again.”

  He frowned, shaking his head just slightly. “No, my dear. I’m not sure he would.”

  Then turning on his heel, he called out to his demons, “Clean this mess!” Then he marched off, head held high, and just like that, the golden king was gone.

  Maddox had covered the thing that wasn’t my Hook in a shimmering net of gold, a transporting spell. The false Hook still slept, looking so still that I suffered a pang, a memory of him closing his eyes for the last time, relaxed forever in my arms as I’d whispered the spell over him to turn him from flesh and blood and bone into sea foam.

  With a growl, I swiped the key card through the air and stepped through, Maddox and false Hook close on my heels.

  But once we were in the travel tunnel and safely ensconced away from the outside world, Maddox’s wounds finally made themselves fully manifest to me.

  He stumbled against the tunnel, his knees giving out on him, and he would have fallen on his arse had I not been there to grab him.