Locked in Silence: Grimm's Circle, Book 5 (4 page)

Sometimes, they
did
die. Silence planned to kill the lot of them tonight.

“Come on, precious,” one of them said, giving her a charming, seductive smile. “Put the knife down. You came out here looking for a good time, right?”

She gave him a smile in return. “Well…yes. But my idea of a good time is going to be very different from yours. You see,
my
idea of a good time is to kill as many of you as I can before I die. I’m already up to two.” She spun the blade and cocked a brow. “Who’s next?”

Despite himself, Silence smiled.

She had guts. More…she knew what was coming. How strange. Odd, that. Perhaps Will had prepared her a bit more than Silence had expected.

One of them lunged for her. She swayed to the side and her knife was a silver flash in the air.

Silence smelled blood in the air. He slid his axe into place and gathered his shadows.

Then he steadied himself. In another few minutes, he’d have to watch her die.

In that moment, he hated Will.

Bracing a hand on the railing, he leaped.

Air rushed along his body, and for a moment, he wished he could hit hard enough, fast enough to end it…end himself so he wouldn’t have to see this.

But that was an easy exit that didn’t exist for him.

Vanya thought she heard the air whistling—thought she glimpsed something in the darkness. But she didn’t dare look. The avid, hungry look in their eyes was already unsettling—now touched with anger. She’d killed two of them earlier.

They didn’t just want to fuck her and try to talk her into giving up her soul for the sake of sex now—they wanted her to bleed too.

She had no doubt she was going to bleed, going to hurt.

Shit, where were they? He…she…
somebody
…

She’d been told she wouldn’t be alone.

Off in the distance, there was a heavy, deliberate tread.

A footstep.

Something shivered down her spine.

She didn’t look—didn’t dare.

But some of them didn’t have that caution. They looked. And swore.

Something shiny, red and wet flew across her field of vision.

Blood.

There was a shriek of rage and the possessed woman Vanya had first seen in the club bathroom snarled, “What the hell…?”

Another footstep. Deliberately heavy. Deliberately hard. Like whoever moved in the shadows wanted to be heard before he was seen. She squinted, still focusing on the demons, although it wasn’t so easy to see them now. Was it her imagination or was it darker in here now?

Vanya tried to catch a glimpse, but then one of the men rushed at her. She slashed with her knife but wasn’t quick enough. He had her pinned, trapped against his body, and he was strong—so damned strong. And yes, even now—horny as hell.

One iron hand gripped her wrist, squeezed, squeezed, squeezed… “Drop it, baby,” he panted in her ear. “Now, or when I get you naked, after I’m done fucking you with my dick, I fuck you with that.”

Pain and terror blossomed in her mind, but still she clutched the blade.

Off in the darkness of the huge room, she caught a glimpse of something—no, somebody. A man—the glitter of his eyes. Nothing about that one glimpse made her shudder with fear. In fact, that one glimpse had something warm and easy rolling through her.

It gave her the courage she needed to gasp through the pain, “I bet the knife does a better job than you.”

He shattered her wrist and she screamed with the pain. The blade fell from her useless fingers and he backhanded her, sent her flying to the floor. She landed at the feet of the woman who’d brought her here. She grabbed the front of Vanya’s skimpy black dress and yanked her up, but whatever she might have said was cut short by a harsh gasp.

As one, the two women turned their heads, watched as a long, brawny arm came out of the thick, seemingly impenetrable darkness—why was it so dark? A scarred hand grabbed the neck of the demon who had broken Vanya’s wrist. He screamed, but the scream ended abruptly in a wet, nasty gurgle.

His head, sans body, rolled across the floor like a macabre bowling ball, coming to a stop a few feet away from Vanya and the woman.

The woman shrieked and threw Vanya to the floor, staring off into the darkness.

“Who is there?”

Vanya, through the pain, started to laugh.

“You…” The demon looked at her. A furious hiss escaped her and she lunged for Vanya, gripping the bodice of her dress. “Who is there? What have you done, you little cunt?”

Vanya laughed harder. If there was something hysterical to her laughter, it couldn’t be helped.

The woman’s eyes narrowed and she reached down, touched the silver chain Vanya wore. Something that might have been fear entered her eyes. “You’re not…”

Then she grabbed the chain, spilling the silver cross out. And she heaved out a sigh of relief.

“No. You’re not what I thought you were.”

Abruptly, Vanya stopped laughing. Behind the demon, another two of her men disappeared. Damn, she was losing them left and right, and the bitch was standing here worrying about
Vanya
? Vanya wasn’t the damn problem.

Then he was there—bigger than life, his hair the palest blond, his face…damn, that face, it was too beautiful, too perfect to be real, and over one muscled shoulder, he had an axe. Blood dripped from the gleaming silver blade.

Vanya looked at the demon and smiled. “No. I’m not what you thought. But something tells me
he
is.”

Her shriek could have made ear drums bleed—Vanya thought hers just might. Then she was too busy worrying about the nausea roiling through her gut as the woman snatched her up, jarring her shattered her wrist. A hand fisted in her hair, jerking her head back so far it was a wonder it stayed attached.

“Get back, Grimm, or the mortal dies.”

He didn’t say anything, just pointed his axe at another one of the demons—a blond man, one of the few that remained.

The blond gulped, shot the woman a look…and took off running.

Vanya might have laughed.

If she wasn’t busy screaming. The demon grabbed her shattered wrist and squeezed, squeezed, squeezed…

Just two left, Silence thought.

The queen was the biggest threat and not just because she held his woman—no. His human. His soon-to-be pupil. The queens, the kings, they were always stronger, and he knew her entire hive hadn’t been here. If it had, she’d be wavering now, weaker after he’d killed so many of her slaves.

A king or queen was a strong fighter—able to draw on the strength of the hive and could even call on them through their link, draw them into the fight.

He needed her away from the mortal—preferably
dead
.

Lifting a hand, he beckoned her close.

She smirked. “What am I… stupid? Get back, Grimm, or I break her neck.”

She was close to doing that now, Silence thought, straining the woman’s neck so far, he knew it must hurt her. That is, assuming, she could think past the pain in her wrist.

Fine. The queen wasn’t going to face him—that meant making it clear she had to cut her losses and run, which she wouldn’t do until he showed her she had no choice. He skimmed the shadows—seeing through them easily. They were his, after all. He called them and they came. One of his gifts—the gift of illusion, the reason he had been beaten, imprisoned most of his mortal life.

The final drone was out there, cleverly trying to sneak around, holding a gun in his hands. A gun—fool. Tossing his battle axe to his left hand, Silence grabbed one of the two throwing axes he kept on his belt. It whistled through the air, cleaving through the man’s skull like a ripe melon.

As he fell down, his body lifeless, Silence released his illusions and let the queen see.

Let her see that she was truly alone…alone with just him.

Not where she wanted to be.

Her eyes went wide—

And then she hissed.

Before she flung the mortal at him, she took a split second to rip her throat out.

Silence closed his eyes for a moment—as far as deaths went, it was a relatively painless way to go.

But fuck it all, he didn’t want to see this.

He’d seen enough death to last him through all eternity.

The demon fled as he moved to the woman’s side.

He knelt down and took her hand as her life faded.

I’m here,
he signed automatically with his free hand, using the language he had first used with Sina and Will all those years ago, the language Will had created just for him. Even as he did it, he wondered why. It wasn’t like she could see, as first pain then death glazed her eyes.

Even if she could, she wouldn’t understand.

He didn’t even know her name.

Not that it would matter to her—it wasn’t like he could speak, offer comfort as she went through the change from mortal to Grimm…through death’s door and back again.

She would be locked in silence as she made this change, just like he was.

Might as well be alone, for all the good it did having him there.

You’re not alone,
he thought as he brushed a lock of hair back from her face, still holding her other hand in his. His hands itched to move—itched to echo the words within his mind.

Silence, the silence he’d been trapped in for so long weighed on him, but for some reason, he wanted to hold her hand and keep the other curved where he could stroke the silken skin of her cheek.

Her skin was cooling…her life, already gone.

It was done.

He felt the ripple in the air, that tightening, and he sighed, shaking his head. Why was the bastard coming now?

“Her name is Vanya,” a voice said from behind.

Will.

Glancing back at him, Silence lifted a brow.

Sina had once told him he could convey entire conversations with just a look. Perhaps Will agreed because he just shrugged and said, “Well, would you rather stare at her and think of her as
human
—although that won’t apply for much longer. Perhaps you intend to think of her simply as
protégée
? Knowing her name will help you both. And I’m here to deal with the mess, because as always, you made a hell of one.”

Will nudged one of the heads and scowled. “Off with their heads.”

Then he came over and crouched on her other side, across from Silence.

His hand touched her throat—under it, brilliant, bright-white light flared.

Silence looked away.

But from the corner of his eye, he saw Will place a hand on her chest, just over her heart, and he found himself staring down, watching as Will called her back.

Back through death’s door.

It wasn’t Will’s power that made it possible—he was just the channel.

But it was a fucking disconcerting thing to watch.

Chapter Three

Then…

“You cannot kill him!” The woman stood before his body, her arms spread wide.

Mother was not here.

Mother hated him—she thought him evil.

Mother didn’t want him. Neither did Father. They had let him be taken—immediately his mind shied away from what had happened, what became of him…what had been done. What
he
had done…

This woman, though, she fought to protect him. To help him. But he doubted she could.

With his arms wrapped around his thin, cold body, he sat on the ground, clutching the axe and staring at the men he’d killed. He still had their blood on him.

The sight of their dead bodies, the sight of the blood brought the memories rushing back.

A fat, foul-smelling man—
I will fight for his soul. I will clean him of this devil curse
…

Pain, so much of it. He shuddered, gripped the axe harder, barely aware of those around him who spoke.

“Your majesty, I strongly suggest you ignore the lady. She is overly emotional. He saw too much.”

There was a heavy sigh. “I did not ask for your opinion.”

“Sire—”

“He saved our lives. I will not blindly overlook that. Now be
silent
.”

The harsh fury in the man’s voice made him cringe as he sat there, shuddering, reliving so many ugly, awful memories. From the corner of his eye, he saw him coming, saw him standing over him.

“Look at me, boy.”

He did not dare.

“I said—”

“Oh, stop yelling at him,” she said. “Can you not see his fear?”

Then she knelt by him, an angel in pink and gold. Uncaring of the blood on him, she reached out and touched his arm. “Will you look at me, boy? Please?”

He darted a look. Then looked away.

“What is your name?”

He shook his head. A name. He had a name. But he had no way to tell her.

“You have no name?”

He hesitated then shook his head. He had a name. One he did not remember, and even if he did, he could not tell her. Slowly, he reached up and touched his mouth, shook his head, watching her from the corner of his eye, not daring to look directly at her, still hiding behind his damp, dirty hair.

“Oh…you cannot speak.” She sighed and looked up. “How can you kill him now? He cannot even tell a soul that he saw you with me, Louis.”

The man she called Louis knelt down as well. “Just because he says he cannot speak doesn’t mean he cannot speak,” the man muttered. “Look at me, boy, and do it now or I will have you killed and be done with it.”

He looked—he did not want to die, and somehow he understood this man could have him killed.

So he looked. And something about the face he saw startled him—

The man called Louis sucked in a harsh breath and then looked at his lady.

“Well. Perhaps I could have killed him before I looked at him, but it will be harder now. He shares my face, Françoise. Do you see?”
 

Abruptly, there was a shout, followed by a scream. The guards came, hustling the lady and the man to the carriage. The woman—Françoise—she reached out and caught his thin arm. “You come too. You have faced enough thieves and bandits this day. Let the guards handle this.”

Louis gave her a disapproving frown.

“What? Would you have this boy with your face be slaughtered?”