Wish Bound (A Grimm Agency Novel Book 3) (18 page)

“And yet here you are.” Ari took Mrs. Pendlebrook’s hands from her face. “I caused this. I don’t want the position, or the power. I just want Marissa set free. Gwendolyn will never allow that.”

“No,” said Mrs. Pendlebrook, “but do you truly understand what it means to immerse yourself in that world? Your family will become targets. Your friends, collateral for blackmail. Your strongest supporters will fear you and dispose of you at the earliest opportunity.”

Ari turned away. “I don’t care what happens to me.”

“I care.” Wyatt beat me to the words by a millisecond, and for once, he spoke without quavering. “I care what happens to you more than you could possibly imagine.”

Mrs. Pendlebrook grabbed Ari’s hands, forcing Ari to face her. “Think of those who would go on without you. Or are you still believing that your mother died of natural causes?”

I’d seen Ari take a punch easier than those words. Wyatt’s mom could take down a heavyweight with that tone. Ari jerked away, shaking her head. “No.”

“Yes, young lady. Not the first time, nor the last, that a disease-causing potion will be used to remove a rival. That is the Court of Queens.”

“Who?” Ari snapped her head up and hissed the word.

“Given your mother’s conflicts,” said Mrs. Pendlebrook, “I’d put money on Tegra Ambuwe.”

Queen of the Seventh Royal Family. Mother to a girl I’d seen in Ari’s photo albums. Murderer.

Mrs. Pendlebrook rose to drive home her point. “Arianna, this is the nature of the court. Did you not guess why your mother delayed training you in magic? She wanted to shield you from those who would see you as an ally to be obtained or an obstacle to be destroyed. I know right before she fell ill, Tegra approached her, asking for her loyalty—and yours.”

Wyatt and I moved at the same time, from opposite sides, both trying to comfort Ari. Her hands shot out at us, bursting with yellow light that threw me back into the couch and froze Wyatt in place. She opened those witch eyes, looking at me, and for the first time in nearly two years, fear tap-danced down my spine when she gazed on me.

“Grimm, did my mother die of natural illness?” Ari looked at the mirror over the mantel.

If seeing Ari with two of us in a spell-lock surprised Grimm, he hid it well. “I don’t know, Arianna. Allow me time to look back. I warn you, though, I specialize in the future. Past divination is not my normal proclivity.”

After a moment, he nodded. “I cannot divine the exact nature, but her disease was at least assisted, if not implanted. What are your plans, princess?”

“Arianna, revenge is not in your soul.” Wyatt stepped forward, fighting the spell. I know she let him. The girl could pin a truck in place if she desired, but he took one step after another, until at last, he reached out to brush her cheek.

The spell pinning us evaporated, and she folded into his arms, wracked with sobs. If witches could cry, she would have worn tear trails on her cheeks.

I tried to slip out without them noticing. Easier on Liam if he didn’t realize I was going. Easier on me. Almost made it to the car. The door groaned open behind me, and feet whispered across the marble porch. “M. I’m sorry. Come back.”

I wanted to be angry with her. Using magic against me, that hurt. Letting Wyatt be the one who comforted her, that hurt more. We weren’t sisters in the normal sense, but I thought we were as close as two people could be. Wyatt wouldn’t even look her in the eyes.

She jumped down the stairs and ran to me. “I’ll go with you to the fountain.”

“No. Stay here. Stay safe. Just make me a promise, okay? Don’t ask Grimm to bring her back. He’ll say no.” If I could have taken Ari’s pain, I would. Pain and scars, however, were the two things everyone carried themselves.

“M, this all started because one woman couldn’t let go. I’m so angry, I want to turn someone into a frog, but I can’t change what was. You keep telling me to be what I am. I don’t have to be what my mother was.” She looked back to the house, and then to me.

I gave Ari a hug and headed into Kingdom. At the gates of Kingdom, I stopped and took Ari’s potion from my bag. It tasted like cheap scotch and vomit, the flavors blended surprisingly well, but the buzz in my system said I wouldn’t be catching any more lies from Isolde.

I stepped through the gates, ready for the horrors of Low Kingdom. Instead, the streets burst into gold. Gold drenched in blood. Fires raged, filling the sky with oily smoke.

Kingdom burned.

I SET OFF
at a sprint, running up the streets toward the fountain. It originally sat in front of the old castle. When they built a new home for Kingdom’s government, they moved the fountain brick by brick.

On the way there, I ran past destroyed buses and through showers, where beheaded fire hydrants shot water into the air like geysers. When I finally rounded the corner two blocks from the fountain, I stopped short.

The new palace lay in ruins, a smoking crater. I picked my way through the broken glass and debris in a haze. I caught glimpses of faces in the windows high above, but when I looked, the skittish onlookers drew their curtains. With one hand, I ran my fingers over the stone of the fountain, unwilling to look away from the destroyed palace.

As I completed my circle, Low Kingdom flashed into existence.

And burned as well. Vast mounts of rubble lay where buildings once stood.

“Grimm.” I found a shard of glass and turned it to catch the light from burning rubble. “What happened?”

Grimm appeared in the glass and surveyed the carnage as I turned it from side to side. “She means to destroy both High Kingdom and Low Kingdom. Their fates are meshed together, so what happens in one affects the other. Those buildings must be rebuilt, or their counterparts will collapse as well.”

Both layers of Kingdom overlapped the city, where millions of regular people lived regular lives. And that gave rise to a far worse thought. Every bit of real estate existed in three planes at once, which was the only reason I’d ever come up with for the astronomical rent. “If a building collapses in both High Kingdom and Low Kingdom, what happens to the real one?”

Grimm shook his head. “Your question tells me you already suspect the answer.”

“Why is she doing this?”

“Marissa, I swore an oath to my wife the last time I let her die: I would never resurrect her again. And I keep my promises. The heart of my daughter was never known to me, but I believe she thinks if she can just push me far enough, I will change my mind.”

I’d only known Grimm for a decade or so, but that was more than long enough to know his tone. He wouldn’t give Rouge Faron a new body, ever, no matter the cost.

I sprinted all the way to the old palace, the only place someone as traditional as Isolde would consider home. The gate troll lay dead; his corpse wedged the castle doors open. I clambered over and slid down his shoulder blade into the darkness.

Inside the palace, the air hung still and damp. The torches guttered few and far between as I made my way to the center hall. There, Kyra stood, her head bowed, with the monster that was once Prince Mihail looming over her.

Blood dripped from Kyra’s face, a gash that ran down her forehead and across her cheek.

Isolde stood on the throne steps before her. “Once more I will ask. Why do you have the stench of foreign magic on you? You reek of most curious spell-work.”

Then her gaze flicked to me, and her eyes narrowed. She stared, her gaze boring into me, as her face contorted with rage. “What have you done, handmaiden? Where is the gift I graced you with?”

I looked down for a moment at the figure she’d granted me. The complexion, the voice. A face that could turn heads and the curves to fill out the clothes I could never wear.

A lie, all of it, no different from the one Ari helped me kill.

“I don’t want it. I refuse your gift. I return it.” As I said the words, my stomach wrenched and the world warped. My clothes sagged on me; my pants almost fell to the ground.

Isolde passed Kyra without a glance, stalking toward me. If eyes were coals, hers would have caught fire and burned me to ashes. I returned her gaze, refusing to cower in the doorway. I expected a spell, but got a fist, followed by a foot to the rib cage.

“That lie was practically your twin, handmaiden. Fairies cannot work Seal Magic, so do not claim he was behind this. Who helped you break my enchantment?”

I pushed up onto my elbows, spitting out blood. “I did it. Been studying sorcery in my spare time.”

“You cannot command magic.”

“I’ve been practicing.” I rose to one knee. “You should see me pull a rabbit out of my hat.”

Isolde kicked my side, knocking me to the ground again. “This time, I will wrap the lie around you so tightly you will embrace it or die.” She snapped her fingers at me, showering me in glitter.

And again.

A strangled cry of rage escaped her throat as she willed me to change.

“Magic may not magic oppose.” I recited the first law of magic, which Grimm drilled into me over and over. With Ari’s potion on board, Isolde’s creation couldn’t take hold. “The truth is bitter, but I’ll take it any day.”

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t snuff you out like a spell gone wrong.” Isolde’s voice shook with anger.

The floor shook as Monster Mihail lumbered over. “She knows the dragon man. I saw him with her, years ago. And today.” He leaned down and grabbed me by the ankle, hanging me upside down. “I could shake the answer out of her.”

Isolde stood, her hands behind her back. “Tell me where I may find him.”

“Make me.” I set my jaw, ready to bite my tongue off before I would speak Liam’s name.

Isolde opened her mouth and then stopped, covering it with her palm. “You . . . desire my command. What trickery is this? What has my father told you that brings this madness?”

“He’s told me all about you. A frightened little girl, crying for her mother.” I saw the backhand coming this time, just enough time to brace myself.

“You know nothing about me. Nor does he, and I will prove this to you. Answer me one question, and I will grant you anything except your freedom.” Isolde stepped forward, so close her breath chilled my forehead. “What was the lie by which I knew my power? Which was the first one I ever told?”

I knew better than to guess. If you only had one bullet, you made certain it was a solid shot. I kept my mouth shut, reminding myself: Grimm valued knowledge over anything, even magic.

After a moment, Isolde stalked away. As she did, she spoke again. “And I give you another choice. You know the keeper of the curse. Bring him to me, and I swear on my power I will let you go.”

I’d sooner see myself dead. “Never. I’d rather die.”

“Kyra.” Isolde beckoned to her. “Your dalliance is forgiven. Tomorrow I will grant you command of my army, to do my bidding. I lift my restrictions on the culling. If you see Marissa again, and she does not have the dragon with her, you may kill her.”

Kyra knelt and bowed her head. “Yes, my queen. And if she does bring him?”

“Then no force on earth can save you from the wrath of that curse. And if I control it, no army on earth will stand against me. If my father will not do as I ask, I will burn his precious Kingdom to the ground and reign over the ruins. Sleep well, my handmaiden.” With those words, Isolde faded away, leaving only a fading trace of her lovely form.

Prince Mihail raised me up by the leg, shaking me. “Mother will be disappointed if she doesn’t get to kill you.”

Disappointing Irina Mihail ranked high on my list of goals. When he dropped me, I rolled, letting the impact sweep through me, and as fast as I could, I limped away. I’d almost made it to the tunnel when Kyra called after me.

“Don’t come back.”

I fled into the darkness and destruction.

•   •   •

BY THE TIME
I made it back to my apartment, Liam was home, waiting for me. I rushed to him, looking him over. “The Black Queen is looking for you.”

“I know.”

“She let me go. Wants me to bring you back to her.”

Liam put one hand on my chin and gazed into my eyes. “She offered you your freedom in return for me, because she wants the curse, right?”

“How—how did you know?”

Liam leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “I’ve been reading the history of her previous reign, and she’s not very original. I’m glad you are back. The real you. The beautiful you.”

I wanted to take him in my arms and hold him, and forget about what I’d seen, but the images of burning buildings and rubble flashed behind my closed eyelids. “Grimm, she’s proclaimed Kyra the handmaiden and is bringing an army for her to command. She says she’s going to wipe Kingdom clean.”

Grimm snapped into the living room mirror above the fireplace. “I see. And her commands for you?” The anticipation made Grimm’s voice tremble.

“Nothing. She
knew
I wanted her to. Tell Ari her potion saved me from another lie.”

“I will do so. There is only one place where the form of summons she needs could work. She must bring forth her army on the Plain of Agony, at the far western edge of Middle Kingdom. From there, they will tear through the populated portions of Middle Kingdom and invade High Kingdom.”

“Wait.” The feeling in my gut told me I’d missed something important. Some key element that Grimm, in his usual manner, would simply leave unexplained. While I didn’t doubt his theory, his explanation didn’t make sense. “Isolde’s about as evil as a woman can get. How could she or any of her servants pass into High Kingdom? You can enter Middle Kingdom from either High or Low, but won’t the spell keep you locked to whichever one you came from?”

“Indeed, it would,” said Grimm. “But my daughter knows the secrets I used to split Kingdom apart. She knows the back ways and hidden paths that bridge the two. For all I know, she may be planning to have her handmaiden unravel the pillars holding them separate and merge both planes of Kingdom together.”

Liam tensed, and his teeth ground, his skin steaming slightly. “Won’t that hurt the people in both parts?”

“You might say so,” said Grimm. “The carnage of colliding realities would be magnificent, and Isolde’s armies would slay all who survived. But at the boundary between layers, we will be waiting.”

I pushed back from Liam and turned to look at Grimm in the living room mirror. “I’ll be waiting.”

“No!” Liam and Grimm spoke at once, then stopped and looked at each other. After a pause, Grimm tipped his head to Liam.

He wrapped his arm around me. “M, you’ll be the target of this handmaiden’s fury if you are there. I can handle a hundred of those abominations bent on just destroying things. If they were all after you, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on killing them.” He leaned his head over and whispered. “Please. Let us handle it.”

“You’ll call out the army, right? A line of tanks like the Thanksgiving Day Parade? A battalion of ogres?”

Grimm shook his head. “My daughter has already moved against them. Everyone higher than a captain is
quelled
, but even Isolde had the good sense to leave the ogre handlers alone.”

The ogres of Kingdom, with six arms and barbed tails, bonded with their handlers from the moment the ogres chipped out of their tombs. Once, and only once, I’d seen the aftermath when an ogre’s handler died and the ogre survived. Only ten tons of wet concrete and a veteran captain willing to make a final sacrifice let us put a stop to the trail of bodies.

I opened my mouth to name this as the suicide it was, when the air in the apartment crackled, like lightning struck the building. Wood snapped and crashed in the kitchenette, and I went sailing through the air, tossed onto the couch by Liam.

He leaped over the bar, scales studding his skin, and his fingernails stretched into long black claws. I’d seen him get lizardish more times than I could count, but this time, the sight made me thrill in a way that frightened me.

Snarling, Liam slammed into something in the kitchen . . . and stopped. His breathing calmed, slowed. “A fridge. Someone dropped a fridge in our apartment.”

And a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach told me I
knew
that fridge. I stalked over and threw open the door. Inside, a wheel of cheddar sat on a glass platter. A note taped to it said “Stay away from the Agency.” Our staff had signed it all over with notes of encouragement and explanations about how they’d see me dead if I showed my face again.

I snatched the note, counting names. “Those bastards. How did they—”

“Enchanters.” Grimm cut me off, his eyes flashing with rage. “I have a personnel problem to deal with. I believed we settled the matter earlier, but I believed wrong.”

Liam looked inside and shuddered. “I’m not touching that thing.”

“A wise decision. I’ll arrange for movers to return the extra appliance next week. In the meantime, if you two could excuse me, I’m going to arrange a mandatory after-hours morale event for my employees.” Something about Grimm’s tone told me it wouldn’t be bowling or golf.

With Grimm gone, the apartment fell silent, until the ice maker in the Agency fridge turned over, dropping ice cubes with a crash.

“Easy, now.” Liam spoke over my shoulder, now, once again, so much taller than me.

“Nothing is easy.”

He wrapped his hands around my waist. “Loving you is easy.”

•   •   •

MY NIGHTMARE BEGAN
like they always did: I woke up. At least, I became aware. I think I was awake already, leaning over Liam as he snored in bed. My hands traced his chest, following the curves of his muscles down his abdomen and back to his heart.

The heat of his skin made the asbestos-weave sheets Grimm got me glow white-hot. My hand stopped above his heart, feeling it beat beneath my fingertips.

I opened my mouth to whisper “I love you,” and what came out sounded like I swallowed a garbage disposal.

And Liam answered, mumbling in his sleep, in that same language.

I fought the nightmare, my own limbs sluggish. I could jerk my hands, but not control them, flinch, but not look away. Again, I spoke words, guttural, inhuman, and again he answered, this time, clearly.

I focused on the tips of my fingers, and the nails turned black, growing outward. They twisted, curled, until my index finger ended in a thorn the length of a steak knife. And my shaking hands turned back to him, sliding along his skin, the razor edge so sharp he would never know what cut him.

And right then, I stopped believing it was a dream.

While my hand worked its own magic, carving in red, my brain screamed in terror, because the cuts weren’t some lazy torture attempt. They formed an engraving, the basis for a binding.