The Grimm Files Collection Boxed Set

by Selene Charles

  I smiled with teeth, letting my lips thin to nearly nothing. Why he made me so nervous, I had never understood, so I merely smiled wider. “I-I wasn’t snooping. I promise.”

  He harrumphed but said nothing.

  “What were you reading? Sounded beautiful,” I said.

  He snorted and slowly shook his head before gently closing the massive tome and snapping his fingers so that it vanished. “And she says she was not snooping.”

  My grin turned lopsided, and I gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “Well, I guess I was, a little. But I honestly came here to see if you’d train me.”

  The wards on Jacamoe’s room were very specific: it was the only place in the castle where he could still use his magick at its fullest potential. As Father’s personal mage, Jacamoe was required to create potions and spells for him, but because Father was the uptight bastard that he was, Jacamoe was strictly regulated regarding when and where and for how long.

  From the moment Jacamoe entered the room, a timed cycle of two hours on and four hours off was set off. That meant he could perform magick for eight hours out of a twenty-four-hour cycle. Jacamoe himself had been instrumental in setting up his wards—on Father’s command, of course.

  He rubbed at his uncuffed wrists, which seemed more a habitual gesture than anything else.

  I held up my own hands. “I’d really love to have these off me, old friend,” I whispered with obvious entreaty in my voice.

  Sniffing, he shuffled painfully over to me before leaning his hip against the desk and gesturing at me with both hands. “Give them to me,” he said.

  I rolled my wrists upward and breathed a sigh of relief once he’d released me from their venomous clasp. Already, I could feel the release of power, which the cuffs had dampened almost to the point of nonexistence before, roiling deep inside of me. But with its return, I felt the rise and stir of the darkness that had been nullified as well. I bit the inside of my cheek. I wasn’t sure whether it was better to have no magick or to have it and be forced to fight off that damnable voice inside my head.

  Resting my weight on the desk, I hung my head and felt my back muscles spasm and pop as I tried to acclimate myself to the waves of power so much stronger than before.

  “It always feels that way at first,” he said gently. “I liken it to a stoppered steam valve. Give it a second, Little Fish, it will pass. Breathe,” he commanded.

  When I did, I inhaled the scent of lush and exotic spices deep into my lungs.

  When next I opened my eyes, I noticed a small smoking brazier in his hands. The smoke relaxed me. The tightness in my back and the tension in my stomach had eased a bit.

  After another breath, I felt almost normal again, apart from a low buzz that was quickly receding in the back of my mind and the echoing scream of that dark voice. I shivered. “Holy hells, does that always happen to you?” I asked a second later.

  His response was to press his lips together, which was answer enough.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “You get used to it. Now, we only have an hour left to use our magick here, so we have no time to dawdle.” His eyes were intensely serious, and his manner brooked no arguments.

  I nodded, as excited to learn about my newfound powers as he seemed eager to teach them to me.

  “Now, let us see the extent of your potential, Elle. I need you to focus your will.”

  I recalled trying to do just that while stuck in the Never’s endless pool, sure that I would die along with Hook and Crowley as I’d sought to tap into powers I’d never known existed. “What does that mean, exactly?” I asked with a tinge of exasperation. Focusing on my will seemed like such a useless waste of the very short and preciously valuable time.

  “I am a Djinn. My powers are like breathing air to me. I cannot do one without doing the other.” To demonstrate, he snapped his fingers, taking a deep breath as he did. A ball of brilliant lime-green fire rested on his overturned palm.

  I sucked in a little breath, in awe of how easily he’d been able to do that and wondering if I was capable of it myself. I was a creature of water—I always had been—but I was drawn to something different now, something edgier and slightly darker.

  I reached out and tried to trace my fingers through the light, but he quickly snatched his hand away. My confusion was instant. “What? Why?”

  He shook his head. “You cannot touch this, Arielle. This is the manifestation of my magick. It responds only to me. Yes, it is a beautiful light, but it is also quite deadly. If you learn to harness your powers into a ball of your own making, then you can manipulate it to suit your needs.”

  He demonstrated by placing the tiny ball upon the top of the workbench. But the ball of green light began to twist and turn in on itself, stretching in places and undulating like a snake’s body in others, until it was no longer a mere ball but a small dragon. Jacamoe held out his hand to it, and the dragon scampered up his arm, winding and curling its way up his body until it came to rest upon his shoulder, clinging tightly to Jacamoe’s neck with a small clawed hand.

  I grinned, bending down so that I could stare the magnificently formed creature in the eye. “What is this?” I asked.

  Glancing down at the little beast with an almost affectionate grin, Jacamoe petted its head. The miniature dragon made a purring, grunting sound that caused its throat pouch to inflate like a balloon. “This is a mage’s familiar.”

  I frowned. “How did I never know that mages had familiars too?”

  “How many mages are you friendly with?” He grinned, his eyes twinkling with obvious mirth.

  I snorted. “Far too few.” I shook my head, a sudden sadness gripping me unexpectedly. I tried to shake it off, not wanting him to see it. But Jacamoe had always been far too observant.

  He gripped my shoulder, patting it affectionately. “You will learn this, Arielle. I have never met a pupil more able than you.”

  Rubbing my thigh absentmindedly, I sighed. “The world has changed for me, old friend. It’s turned from something I knew, from something I was good at… Now, I feel like a child being forced to relearn everything. I ache for my true form. I hate these damnable legs. I hate being forced to remain in this body and not having a clue who or even what I am anymore.”

  “You are a witch,” he said simply.

  “But I don’t want to be!” I hissed, pounding my fist upon the table. I’d held it in for so long, but the resentment of what had happened with the witch, with Hook, Crowley, myself, my sister, even my damned bloody sire was starting to make itself manifest to me.

  “Did you ever wonder why my legs are bowed as they are?” he asked softly, cutting through my pity party of one.

  Sniffing, I swiped at my nose before shaking my head roughly. “I thought you were injured.”

  He chuckled, but the sound was full of hurt and pain and venom. “I am not a creature of the land, just as you are not. When your father captured me and made me his manservant, I was forced to endure a trial for which I was unprepared. My body bows because I was not made to walk this world, Arielle. But that is merely physical. My spirit is strong. It is free.”

  As he said it, the wee dragon on his shoulder glowed like a brilliantly cut jewel in flame. Its legs were no longer resting upon Jacamoe’s shoulders but upon the ground. Its body was growing, filling the room, hinting at something grander and bigger, something much more frightening. I gasped then cringed as I saw it near me, thinking its girth would soon devour me in its rapid evolution. I squeezed my eyes shut, so shocked by the sudden turn of events that I didn’t even have a chance to beg Jacamoe to stop it. But though I felt the heat of the familiar brush up against me, when I opened my eyes again, he was naught but a tiny dragon perched upon his mage’s shoulder.

  “What?” I breathed.

  “Familiars,” he said simply, “are not bound by the rules of our lands, only by the scope of your imagination and strength. Now, we have wasted far too much time. Show me what you can do.” He grabb
ed my wrist and turned it so that my palm lay open before him.

  I knew what he wanted me to do, so I focused on my hand.

  Instantly, the same energy I’d felt in the Never pool flooded through me, more easily since I seemed aware of it inside of me. Recalling how it had felt to manipulate that kind of power, I closed my eyes and focused all my will on my palm. A tremulous grin of hope and excitement tipped the corners of my face as I called the fire to me. Jacamoe’s wee dragon chirped as if he sensed that soon he might have a playmate. And I chanced a quick glance at him.

  Jac’s familiar was silent and no longer watching me. In fact, he was ignoring me altogether before he casually winged off Jacamoe’s shoulder toward a hidden rafter above us.

  I frowned, staring down at my hand, feeling as though I had a great deal of energy roiling and gathering within me, but… Nothing. I saw nothing, not even the heat-wave shimmer that I sometimes saw with Hatter when his anger was too close to the surface. I suddenly wondered whether he was a mage too—I’d seen him manipulate fire.

  “Concentrate, Arielle,” Jacamoe said softly. I twitched, realizing I’d been losing focus, thinking about my partner’s mysterious origins.

  Giving a low growl, silently reminding myself just how important it was, I squeezed my eyes shut even more tightly, imagining that manifestation of fire, practically willing it to fill my palm as it had Jacamoe’s.

  For cripes sake I’d been able to drag Hook and Crowley’s body behind me with magick when I’d first entered Undine. I’d used the power effortlessly then.

  But no matter how much I willed it, how much I pleaded with my powers to reveal themselves, there was simply nothing. My arms were trembling, my legs were shaking, and I had rivulets of sweat sliding down my back. And the voice was back: Unleash me. Use me. Together, we can topple it all. Together, we can make the world our own…

  I shuddered and grabbed the desk with a white-knuckled grip. My breathing was hard and erratic. “Jacamoe, I-I can’t— ”

  “You can,” he assured, placing his warm hands beneath mine. I felt his strength merge with my own. He was much more powerful than I ever could have imagined. His touch was a shock to my senses. It felt sort of like trying to grab hold of lightning, burning but seductive. I wanted more of it.

  “There is such darkness in you. Your mother’s voice is too loud. It is drowning out your own.” He released me slowly.

  I opened my eyes, watching him look at me with gleaming narrowed eyes. “I think I know how to fix your problem, if you will allow me liberties.”

  I frowned. “What liberties?”

  “In the transference between you and your mother, it appears that she left behind too much of herself.”

  “What does that mean?” I leaned back on my heels, my mouth turning down into a frown.

  He grinned at me.

  I realized how I must have looked. I relaxed my stance a little.

  “It’s nothing terrible, Arielle. At least not for you, though she must be extremely weakened now, especially after her attacks on your sister and father.”

  I cocked my head, studying his guileless features. “Are you implying… What now? That she might still be in the realm somewhere, lying low?”

  Shrugging one shoulder, he rolled his wrists. “I could not say. I can say that she would be vastly depleted at this point. Perhaps she attacked your family in order to steal back some power for herself.”

  My brows furrowed. “But they have no magick. What would be the purpose?”

  “Royal blood has great potential as a power source.” He shrugged. “I am not claiming that is what she did, only that there’s a possibility that she became desperate enough after that transference with you. She gave too much, and now you are brimming over with it. She suffers from a lack of power, and you from too much. There needs to be a balance to everything.”

  I sighed. “So how do I get balanced?”

  At first, he said nothing, but then he pressed his lips into a tight line and jerked his chin in my direction. “If you would allow it, I could siphon off just a portion of that power, just the bits that are trying to overwhelm you.”

  “What happens to me if you do?”

  “Nothing,” he waved his fingers, “other than you no longer feeling attacked by her powers.”

  That sounded good, but I knew so little of magick that I had to wonder whether there could be consequences. “And the power that you’ll siphon off, what of that? Where does it go?”

  “Without a bodily source to lay claim to, the power will inevitably weaken until it eventually ceases to be altogether.”

  It all sounded like Greek to me. And yet, I wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t also sound tempting. I couldn’t see any harm in allowing him to help me achieve balance. “Fine,” I said resolutely. “Let’s do it.”

  With a clipped nod, he stepped to me, and in the next instant, his hands were upon my cheeks. In a flash, I felt the heat of his power course through me like a hot surge, and that terribly ungodly voice inside of me screamed. It felt like claws raking down my innards.

  I grunted and stiffened, my neck went taught, and a dark plume of ebony smoke coiled out of me. I knew instantly it was the witch’s power. As it slid out, the voice in my head grew dimmer and dimmer until there was blessed silence.

  I shuddered. He dropped his hands instantly, and then there was a clear vial in his palm. The plume of smoke curled like a cobra down the small shaft. I frowned but said nothing until the last tail of smoke sank down into it. He put a stopper in the mouth of the vial.

  I shook my head. “I thought we were going to let it dissipate?”

  “I am a scholar, Arielle. Having access to study such power is a great boon. Now, when your mother returns to finish what she has started, I will be able to stop her. She will never harm another one of us again.”

  My stomach curled with apprehension, not because I didn’t believe him—I did. But it seemed strange to save chaos magick when the potential for great harm was still very present. He was far more learned than me, though, and if he said he could use it safely, then I had to trust him. I gave him a tight smile. “I understand.”

  He vanished the vial with a flick of his wrist. “And how do you feel now?”

  I rolled my shoulders, waiting to feel the heavy presence of the witch’s mind, but there was nothing in my head other than my own thoughts. “Great, actually.”

  “Good. Then let us try this again, shall we? Give me your hands.”

  I did as he asked. He cupped them gently in his, and I suddenly felt a massive roiling of the great power of the two of us combined. His power was just as heavy and dark as my own but more mature, like a gleaming fruit at the peak of ripeness, ready to be plucked and consumed. It was perfect power, perfect magick.

  He closed his eyes, and I saw his brows knit in consternation. “Hm,” was all he said.

  I frowned. “Hm? Hm, what? What now?”

  Without opening his eyes, he spoke to me. His fingers rubbed against my own, as though to comfort and relax me. “I am looking for the witch’s flame inside of you but I do not sense it. Instead, there appears to be a wellspring of darkness.”

  I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and bit down sharply enough to make myself wince. “I felt that in the eternal pool at Never, too, as I floated. I felt something dark and twisted and wrong in me.”

  He shook his head, his dark eyes snapping open and holding mine with an intensity that made me lose my breath. There was a lick of flame at the center of his black pupils. “Not wrong or twisted. Dark, yes. It simply means you draw your energy from a deeper, more ancient source of untapped power, from the very zenith of its wellspring. But just because you draw magick from the beginning of all energies does not mean that you must be bad. Magick is neither good nor bad, my dear one. It simply is. It is the user who shapes its destiny. Look.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath the instant I looked down, unable to believe my own eyes. I shook my my head even as I
felt a big smile cut across my face—there was a ball of intensely black floating power in my hand. It wasn’t fire—it didn’t burn. It moved like curls of winding campfire smoke, twisting and turning to form an indigo, ebony, and steel colored baby otter.

  “It is beautiful, my Little Fish,” he whispered, and I looked up at him, my eyes suddenly full of heat.

  “That is your power, Arielle. That is it. Not evil, you see. It just is. You determine who this little one will become.”

  “C-Can I touch it?” I asked him in timid little girl’s voice.

  He chuckled. “She belongs to you.”

  “She?”

  He nodded. “She is the physical embodiment of your most inner self, your very personal and private truth. Your little familiar knows you as no other shall. It will sense your desires long before you even know them yourself. It will rise up to protect you one day, shield you, be all that you need or could ever want. She is you, Arielle.”

  He slid his hands out from under mine.

  It was ridiculous how bonded I felt to the wee beastie already, but I brought my hands close to my face and cooed nonsensical words to the little thing. I felt love as I never quite had for anything else. It wasn’t the love of a woman for her partner, but more like the love of a mother for her child.

  I looked at her perfect little otter face and her smoky, silky fur. A soft, gleaming glow emanated from within her tiny body, and the only thing I wanted in that moment was to protect her and always keep her safe.

  It was the most ridiculous thing, but she felt like my child already. It was as if my entire life had been leading me to this very moment, this instant when I would fall in love so completely and knew I would do anything to protect her.