Wish Bound (A Grimm Agency Novel Book 3) (12 page)

I took her hand in a grip like a vise, determined that no one, not fairies or evil queens or postmen, were ever going to take away the people I loved.

WYATT AND LIAM
were waiting at the Agency, along with Mrs. Pendlebrook. To my annoyance, I still didn’t know her first name. When she saw me, she nodded.

I should’ve said something, but Liam was just past her, and I had priorities. “What’s this I hear about us leaving?”

Grimm interrupted, appearing in the lobby mirror. “Please proceed to ritual room number four.” His voice had that hollow sound like automatic elevators, history teachers, or other lifeless things.

Wyatt took the opportunity to show what two years of fear therapy could do, taking Ari’s hand and only shuddering slightly when he looked at her.

In the ritual room, the leather bag with Wyatt’s hair lay on a propane barbecue grill, along with a lighter.

Grimm appeared in the mirror at the head of the table. He looked at Wyatt. “Take the draw and light the fire.”

Wyatt’s quizzical look said he didn’t understand the term “draw”—in essence, a physical shell for a magical binding. The hair served as the key element to a binding meant to make Wyatt serve whoever held the spell. Every night at midnight, the binding still activated, but as long as Wyatt spent the night within the wards and celestial crystal, he remained free another day.

With the witch dead, he’d be drawn to whoever possessed the draw, which wasn’t going to be me, if I had any say in it. I’d spent six years in service to Grimm, and so understood Wyatt’s predicament more than he knew. No, today he’d be free.

Wyatt picked up the bag, and after several failed attempts with the lighter, Liam spat into the grill. His spit erupted into a flame, which blistered the paint. Best I could tell, you could burn the draw with almost anything, but grills met an important requirement for Grimm’s spell ingredients—they were cheap.

“Now, the ritual must be completed quickly,” said Grimm.

Wyatt reached into the bag and pulled out a hank of waxen blond hair, the same color as the stuff still attached to his head. “What now?”

Grimm closed his eyes, and the air in the room shimmered. “I’ve broken down the spell’s shielding. This won’t last long.” Which meant that for a brief window, the hair could be destroyed, taking the spell with it and leaving Wyatt a free man. A spindly, pacifistic, free man.

Wyatt tossed the hair into the fire, and the sickening stench of burning hair filled the room. But so did the stench of roses. In the fire, the leather bag pulsed, beating like a heart, faster and faster. My own pulse rose in time, as an unearthly squeal erupted from the bag. The squealing died to a whimper as the leather curled and blackened, then disintegrated.

And I swear, if anything, the magic shine on Wyatt grew stronger. He’d always had a stream of magic boiling off him like glitter almost as strong as Ari. Now I wouldn’t want to guess which one of them gave off more raw magic. The man was still beanpole thin, but he looked somehow
more
.

Wyatt fidgeted, his gaze darting around the room, then cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to turn off the grill now. The operations guide advises against indoor cooking, and carbon monoxide poisoning can occur within minutes.” Wyatt pointed to the handle.

Around the table, four separate sighs of relief came out. Whatever else he might be, Wyatt was still Wyatt. He turned toward Ari, closed his eyes, and leaned forward, smashing his mouth up against hers. And let me tell you this—from what I saw, Ari could kiss like nobody’s business. After what seemed like an eternity, he came up for air. “I did it! I kissed her!” A gleeful grin covered his face. Then slowly the grin faded, and he began to search his pockets.

“Fairy Godfather, have you any mouthwash and soap?” The panic in Wyatt’s voice was thick enough to frost a cake. Obsessive-compulsive didn’t begin to cover his issues with personal contact.

“There are two bottles under the kitchen cabinet. The green label is drain cleaner. The yellow is mouthwash. I recommend the yellow.” Grimm didn’t even mock him as Wyatt rushed from the room.

“Young lady, I don’t have words to thank you.” Mrs. Pendlebrook put her hand on my shoulder, and gave me the first approving smile I’d ever received from her. “I have promised Fairy Godfather any and all assistance I can render. I can never repay my debt to you.”

“Do you know what I did to get that spell?” I wasn’t in a mood to hide anymore.

“I do. Don’t ask me to say I’m sorry the witch is dead, and I won’t lie to you. She killed my husband, so you have my thanks, Marissa, and my aid, where I can offer it.”

I wanted to say something awful. To say she should have been the one to wield the sword, but before I could speak, Grimm cut me off. “Marissa, you are needed on the seventh floor immediately.”

I knew better than to wait. Grimm used
immediately
for “someone left the lights on” and “someone is about to be murdered.” I couldn’t afford to take chances.

With every ounce of energy I had, I sprinted up the stairs to the seventh floor. Once, there’d been a stock and bond trading firm on that floor. A tragic accident involving an army of wooden puppets and a pyromaniac woodcarver convinced them to move out, and Grimm snapped up the lease. The air still stank of burned wood and bank deals.

I noted the lights left on and headed for the light switches, swearing Grimm could have used a temp worker for this.

Only the slightest whisper of sound gave me a warning, just enough time for a thought. In one heartbeat, the thorn sword hung in my hand. In the next second, it blocked a steel blade just inches from my head. I stepped back, bowing to the figure in black. “Shigeru.”

“It is time for your next lesson.”

“I don’t think I ever got through lesson one.” I stepped back as he advanced, trying to keep a concrete pillar or two between us.

Shigeru nodded. “Today I will strike back.”

I was completely screwed. I sprinted for the stairwell, and in the time it took me to slide across an abandoned desk, he stood between me and it. And I attacked. Letting the sword guide me as much as I guided it. I held a weapon with centuries of death locked inside, and this time, I wasn’t going to be kicked and whipped. Every slice, every chop and stab, I moved faster than thought, letting the blade’s own murderous instinct guide me.

And always, he dodged, bending like a tree in a storm, then rolling up to kick my legs out from under me.

A single flash of steel scored my arm. I pressed my hand to it, swearing at the pain. He’d cut me. Not enough to kill. Just enough to hurt. Enough to enrage. Tears coursed through my eyes as I rose, and this time, the cries for blood that echoed in my heart joined those in the blade as I hurled myself forward. This time, I wouldn’t be taken by surprise. I let the blade whisper to me, guiding my arms and legs, until its voice became my own. Faster and faster, I swung it, this time backing Shigeru up.

And in one second, he stepped inside a thrust, smashing my wrist with his pommel, then following it up with a cut across my thigh.

“Come.” He beckoned. “Strike me once and this is over.”

I knelt on the floor, hands on my arm and thigh, alternating between weeping from pain and rage. Every whisper of the sword said this next time would be different. That this time I could take him. But every ounce of my experience said this was a lie no different from any other the Black Queen spoke. I threw the sword down. “No. I won’t.”

Without a word, Shigeru advanced, swinging his sword from side to side in lazy strokes. And the blood that made my hands sticky said he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. This time, though, I waited, watching, until the last moment, when his blade came across, and I could duck under it, scrambling to the side. I had time for one glance upward and a leap to the left, then two steps back to avoid a flurry of blows.

Shigeru switched to stabbing, blows that came straight toward me, and this time, I dodged just enough to let the blade pass. As he swung overhead, his sword sliced open the fire sprinklers and sent a shower of sparks from the light mixed with filthy water.

I did the only thing I could.

I dove headfirst at him, hitting him in the shins, and knocking us both into a heap.

My lungs burned like the air was molten metal, and every ounce of me screamed in pain.

Beside me, Shigeru rose and picked up his sword. I couldn’t move another inch. Couldn’t stand to save myself. I opened my eyes to face Shigeru.

“We are done.” He sheathed his sword and walked over to pull a long muslin cloth off of a mirror. Grimm waited inside the mirror, his arms crossed.

“She has learned today’s lesson.” Shigeru bowed to Grimm, then turned and left.

“Marissa—”

“I don’t understand.” I rolled over, letting the fire sprinkler mask the tears on my face. “I don’t understand what he’s teaching me. If he’s teaching at all. I can’t keep doing this.” My throat couldn’t give voice to the pain that soaked every inch of me, making my entire body shake.

I stood up, my teeth chattering. “I can’t take any more lessons.”

Grimm nodded. “I’ve arranged a business trip of sorts with Mr. Stone. But you cannot go looking like that.”

“No.” I wrapped my arms around me. “No more healing. I can’t take that either.”

In response, the mirror lit up. Golden light poured out, sweeping through the room like a spotlight. Where it touched me, the skin knit together, and bruises faded. But unlike when Isolde healed me, it didn’t leave me craving more when the light faded away.

“You’ve always been capable of that?” I worked the kinks out of my elbow. “And you kept saying you didn’t want me addicted.”

Grimm nodded. “I have always been capable of local temporal disturbances. I’ve allowed you to heal at an accelerated rate without the risk of addiction, but the cost can be counted in weeks of your life.”

Weeks. Gone in seconds. “How dare you?” I wiped tears from the edges of my eyes. Trying to decide if cursing or screaming better fit the tornado of emotion inside. “What gives you the right?”

Grimm spoke before I could. “Necessity. The auguries are quite clear, Marissa. If you do not learn from Shigeru, you will die in the culling, like so many of my daughter’s handmaidens before you.” He looked away from me. “I’ve taken a month. If it means your survival, it is a worthwhile trade. Liam has been waiting patiently downstairs for what must seem like months to him.”

I trudged down the stairwell to the front lobby, where Liam waited.

He crossed his arms. “What was the emergency? You’ve been gone for nearly an hour.” He took my hand and pulled me toward the door. “We’ve got to be going.”

Grimm appeared in the front door. “Sir, I’ve made arrangements with the guards. Take car number three.”

I wanted to say I needed to change, but the blood that had covered me had turned to brown crust. Liam probably figured I’d gotten sprayed with chocolate pudding again. So I followed him out, down the stairs to our parking garage. “You want to tell me where we are going?”

“No.” Liam opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. As soon as I was in he pulled out, sparing only a glance at the bags in the backseat.

We rode in silence for nearly thirty minutes. Keeping secrets wasn’t Liam’s strong point. He’d buy me a present, meaning to surprise me, and blurt it out within minutes of seeing me every time. I put my hand on his arm. “Again, you want to tell me where we are going?”

“Right here.” He turned into the private airport, driving right onto the tarmac. A Piper Cub sat on the runway, the pilot waiting, and Liam waved to him.

“We’re flying?”

“Yes, and you don’t have wings.” Liam hefted the duffel bags from the back and walked over to the plane.

Minutes later we were in the air, and I took the opportunity to rest my head against him. I could do anything with his support, even find a way to live with myself after what happened in Kingdom. With his chin on my head and my ear on his chest, I rested until the plane landed.

We touched down in a rainstorm and ran through the deluge to a rental car waiting at the strip. Again, Liam drove. As we passed highways and turned onto streets, my anxiety rose. I knew where we were. “I’m not going in there.” We sat outside my mother’s house. My house, once.

“You are.” Liam pulled over to the curb and turned off the ignition. The pelting rain played like snare drums on the roof. “I did some research. You aren’t the first handmaiden who wasn’t willing.”

He had my full attention now.

Liam slipped one hand over to take mine. “She said the same thing to them. First you kill the guilty. Then you kill the innocent. Last, you kill the ones you love. When you die inside, you’ll do whatever she wants.” Liam spoke softly, barely audible above the rain. “You’ve already killed the guilty.”

“You really think I’m going to kill someone innocent?” How he could think I’d be willing to do that made me angry, hurt, and afraid, all the things I went to him to get away from.

Liam turned to me and took my hand, though I held myself stiff. “I think she’s going to find a way to put you in a situation. I think it will be a lot harder if she doesn’t have access to people—”

“What?”

“People you might want to kill. You haven’t talked to your mother, ever. Not as long as I’ve known you. When you talk about her, in your sleep—”

“I talk in my sleep?”

He shook his head. “Who did you imagine Fairy Godmother as before the Root of Lies killed her?”

I let silence be my answer. Not because I was angry with him. Because I was angry with me. How could I not have seen that coming? My mother traded me to Grimm for a wish. It saved my little sister, but cost me six years of my life. “So what do we do?”

“These bags are cash. We go in there and convince them it’s in their best interest to move.” Liam opened the door before I could protest, slung the duffel bags over his shoulder, and marched up the sidewalk to the house I grew up in.

Liam rang the doorbell before I could get there.

My little sister answered the door. Hope. The reason I’d taken the deal with Grimm in the first place. In my memories, she was still two years old, not nearly twelve. She looked at Liam and shook her head. “Dad, there’s a vacuum cleaner salesman here. We don’t want any.” Without waiting for an answer, she slammed the door.