Wish Bound (A Grimm Agency Novel Book 3) (5 page)

GRIMM DISAPPEARED AND
remained gone so long I figured he wasn’t coming back. In the ensuing quiet, Liam slowly transformed back into his normal self. The scales melted from his skin, which faded from red to tan. His limbs slimmed down, losing claws. As usual after one of his romps, he snored, and I let him.

When a crew of Kingdom police burst into the court, I honestly thought we were going to get another round of dragon rampage, but Grimm had apparently notified the rest of Kingdom’s government about the Black Queen’s intrusion. They offered Liam a towel, then ushered us out of the court, sealing the doors behind us.

Liam looked back, wistfully. “I wanted to check that place out. Looked like a nice hangout.” He walked down the street, arm wrapped around mine, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“We have got to work on your sense of style.” I’d never change him. Didn’t want to. Didn’t want him to change at all. My thoughts turned to Ari, and I put my hand to Grimm’s bracelet. “Grimm, how’s Ari?”

Grimm appeared in an oil stain, distorted like a rainbow. “The ritual to re-anchor her soul is complete, my dear. She is spending time with her Seal to complete her healing, and will return to work tomorrow.” Without waiting, Grimm faded away.

“What do I do now?” I watched an ogre pass by, its trainer sitting on the ogre’s shoulder, guiding it through the streets.

“I don’t know. I’ll be with you, though. What did she say to you?” Liam waved to a couple who’d apparently never seen a half-naked man walking down the street. Which meant they must have been tourists; I saw at least one buck-naked man on the way to work, every day.

“She said I had to get my affairs in order and arm myself. Let’s head to the gates. My purse got left in the Forest.”

“My wallet was in my clothes. Sounds like a great day for a walk.”

So we strolled together, through the crowds, out of Kingdom. Just outside the Gates of Kingdom, a delivery van pulled up. From the driver’s seat, out stepped Mikey, in his brown Agency uniform. “I was out making deliveries, and Fairy Godfather sent me to pick you up. He said you need to come now.”

•   •   •

WE ARRIVED BACK
at the Agency, where I kept seven spare sets of clothes, a spare set of keys, everything except an extra driver’s license. I went straight to Grimm’s office while Liam sang in the Agency showers, belting out show tunes from the fifties.

With a sigh, I flopped down in one of his chairs. “Grimm, any chance of retrieving my purse from the Forest?”

“We could retrieve the scraps and ashes, no doubt. The goblins are purging everything associated with the Black Queen with fire.”

The buzzer rang, and Rosa spoke in fluid Spanish, more words than she’d said to me in three months. Grimm answered in English. “Bring her right in.”

“Ari?” I shot to my feet, grabbed the door, and opened it to find Mrs. Pendlebrook. Wyatt’s mother, ex–High Queen of Kingdom. Taller than me, with pale blue eyes and silver gray hair, she radiated majesty in a way that didn’t at all affect me. “You aren’t Ari.”

She brushed past me. “Your friend and my son are both still in Fae. Frankly, I think that’s for the best given the situation here.” She sat in one of Grimm’s chairs, placing her purse in her lap. “Fairy Godfather, how may I assist you?”

Grimm bowed his head to her, earning a dour frown from both of us. “Mrs. Pendlebrook, you are aware of the Black Queen’s attack on the Court of Kings?” He disappeared, leaving an image of the court in his mirror, the kings and princes frozen in place.

“Of course I am. I would offer Arianna and Marissa shelter, but while I consider myself protected from most dangers, if the Black Queen decides to come for me, my wards will not deter her.” Mrs. Pendlebrook still lived in a three-story cracker-box house surrounded by enough celestial crystal and wards to strangle even a witch’s magic.

I shook my head. “Those wards wouldn’t even hold back a moving truck.”

Grimm reappeared in his mirror, taking a moment to wipe it from the inside with a handkerchief. “For the time being, I have arranged a temporary apartment for you one floor above our offices here. My daughter will not dare approach me.” Grimm crossed his hands and looked down.

Mrs. Pendlebrook took a cuticle trimmer from her purse and fastidiously worked her fingers. “While I’d welcome your protection, Fairy Godfather, I must ask—what could I possibly offer you in return?”

“Patience, please. Arianna was not meant to challenge my daughter when she did, if at all. Her actions have disrupted centuries of my predictions. Even worse, other fairies report similar effects. Well understood, near-term possibilities have unexpected outcomes. This leaves me unable to foretell what may occur.”

I sat rock still, wondering what happened to Grimm. The Fairy Godfather always knew, and if he didn’t, he sure as hell didn’t let on to the clients. “I can find out” was the closest he ever got to admitting lack of knowledge to clients. “Grimm, Ari told me she would be the last one to challenge the Black Queen.”

Grimm nodded in agreement. “I wish Arianna had discussed this matter with me, but I will entreat the Fae Mother to understand what her prophecy was. Always remember, even the simplest statements from the Fae are expressions of a dozen possible outcomes. A direct challenge to my daughter was only one of many ways that could be interpreted.”

I knew that only too well. Once, I’d been the subject of such a prophecy, that the Black Queen would strike through my hand. The Root of Lies, the only remains of the Black Queen, had in fact ripped through the flesh of my hand to kill Fairy Godmother.

Grimm faded out again, showing a scene worthy of any slaughterhouse: chunks of flesh scattered amid a pile of gore. Grimm spoke over the image. “This is what remains of High Queen Wang Mi.”

I don’t know whose jaw fell open farther, mine or Mrs. Pendlebrook’s. She closed her mouth and put away the nail file with a shake of her head. “I refuse to assert my claim to the title.”

Grimm glared at her, and the building trembled. “I would appreciate your hearing me out. Though Arianna’s actions have disrupted my predictions, I have already begun to rebuild my knowledge. I am well aware that you do not ever intend to take the throne again. I ask for your advice in exchange for protection. Who do you believe will win the title of High Queen, as Wang Mi’s successor?”

“Irina Mihail would be my primary guess, were she still alive. Failing her, it will either be Muwende Takala or Gwendolyn Thromson.” She looked to me as she spoke.

A surge of murderous rage blasted through me. “I’ll put a bullet through Gwendolyn before I let her take the throne.” The moment the words left my mouth, the rage passed, leaving me shocked at my own response. See, I’d killed people before, but only when they’d set out to kill me. One of them came within an inch of doing it too. This felt different, both wrong and on a level that made me queasy, terribly right.

“Forgive Marissa. She’s had a rough day and isn’t feeling herself at the moment.” Grimm gave me the same look he used back when I was his servant, a look that said I wasn’t to speak at all.

“Girl, murder is hardly new to the Court of Queens. Nor would this be the first time someone killed a potential heir to the throne. I didn’t have you down as a killer, though.” Mrs. Pendlebrook spoke with the tone of a school principal, leaving me wanting to burst into tears.

“I’m sorry. It just slipped out.” I put my hand over my mouth and focused on my feet.

“Mrs. Pendlebrook, to be honest, I do not believe my daughter intends to involve herself with the Court of Queens. Her disdain for them was always quite clear. My expectation is that she will have one of her servants claim the throne as her proxy.” Grimm kept his eyes away from me as he spoke, not betraying my situation.

That couldn’t be it. Grimm had always been quite clear. Some people could be made princes or princesses, and some could not. I never minded being in the not group, but now I worried. What if Isolde planned to use me as High Queen?

Mrs. Pendlebrook nodded. “It would be a step down for her. Within the court, only Seal Magic and Wild Magic are permitted. According to history books, she had power approaching that of a fairy. She will send one of her handmaidens to ensure her pawn wins. Has she chosen them?”

I caught my breath, my lungs aching.

“Yes. A handmaiden volunteered, in order to save Arianna.” Grimm didn’t look at me.

Mrs. Pendlebrook pursed her lips. After a moment, she nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that, Marissa.” I know I couldn’t have held in the shock, because she gave me a pitiful smile. “After Arianna met my son, I began listening again to rumors from Kingdom. The tale of your challenge to Queen Mihail, declaring yourself the handmaiden, made me proud. You have the mark. And her ring. Who else would offer their services for Arianna’s life?”

“Wyatt, though he’d probably want a few days to meditate on it first.”

At that moment, Grimm’s office door swung open, and Liam walked in. “Fairy Godfather, tell me you have good news.” He waited in silence, and the normal smile fled his face. “You have a plan, right? You at least have a way to kill the Black Queen.”

“Liam. How are you holding up, young man?” Mrs. Pendlebrook took a comb from her purse and offered it to him.

“Doing fine, Mrs. P.” He shrugged off the comb, running his fingers through his hair a couple of times.

Now she turned the principal tone on Liam, pointing the comb at him like a weapon. “I know about Marissa’s predicament. It isn’t polite to lie to your elders. She will need your love and support even more.”

Liam walked up behind my chair and put his hands on my shoulders, such heavy hands, with callused skin from swinging a hammer. “I’d do anything for her.”

My face turned hot, and I didn’t bother trying to hide the tears that came to my eyes, but Grimm cut my moment short. “Excellent news, Mr. Stone. The first thing I’d like you to do is forge a weapon for me. A weapon with which to kill the Black Queen.”

OVER THE OFFICE
intercom, a voice announced, “All licensed bear handlers report to loading dock A with porridge.” Grimm waited until the hubbub died down to continue. “Mr. Stone, in the storage room, under the table, in a box labeled ‘6-21-A,’ you’ll find the materials required.” Grimm spoke as though he were revealing the location of a bag of garbage Mikey missed.

Liam squeezed my shoulders and ran his hand up my neck as he walked out of Grimm’s office, whistling as he went.

“Mrs. Pendlebrook,” said Grimm, “if you don’t mind, I would like you to tour your temporary living facilities. I will make reasonable adjustments.”

“Of course.” With that, Mrs. Pendlebrook marched out the door. Though she’d abandoned her position decades before, she still carried herself like the High Queen.

Now that we were alone, I waited for Grimm to reassure me. To tell me things would be fine. And waited. And waited. I’d been in trouble before, made mistakes that nearly destroyed the world before, and always Grimm functioned as a calming influence, explaining how we’d fix everything. “I need to do something. I can’t sit around waiting, ticking off the hours and days. I can’t take Liam home and spend the next week in bed with him. I need to work.” As I spoke, I picked at the scars forming the handmaiden’s mark, wishing I could pick them away.

Grimm nodded with understanding. “While Mr. Stone works on your weaponry, I will consult with Mrs. Pendlebrook to understand who Gwendolyn Thromson’s supporters will be. In the meantime, I have a task, if you don’t mind. One you are uniquely suited for, that perhaps I could not entrust to any other.”

If I’d been a wolf, my ears would have perked up. “Dangerous?”

“Potentially deadly.” Grimm smiled as he spoke, which in no way meant I might not get killed.

“Count me in.” I was supposed to be settling my affairs, but the only affairs I had going were the love affair with Liam and my addiction to dark chocolate, neither of which I had any intention of ending.

Grimm nodded. “Excellent. I need a package retrieved from the Kingdom Post Office. I leave it up to you as to how you want to accomplish it.” Grimm immediately disappeared, leaving me to curse at an empty mirror.

I swore my way out of his office, down the hall, out into the lobby, where I returned Rosa’s sour look with a phrase she’d always claimed meant “Merry Christmas,” at least until I learned Spanish. It was time to catch a bus.

•   •   •

I ENTERED KINGDOM
the normal way. That is to say, the most normal way one can enter a second plane of existence layered on top of the normal city. All it took was turning a corner in the right place—and magic.

I froze at the gates, uncertain of what would happen. I had no magic powers. No special lineage, or powerful curse. My harakathin had been my ticket into Kingdom, as a person both blessed and cursed. Before that, Grimm always paid to get me in. Like paying a parking fine, or feeding a meter, his magic made the difference, allowing me to access a part of the city I had no right to.

And now I was afraid to pass the gates.

See, the golden manacle on my arm belonged to just about the most evil person ever, and the gates, they could take you to High Kingdom, sure, or let you past to walk down the normal Avenue, but they could also take you someplace else.

The gates could also take me to Low Kingdom, a place where darkness held sway, where every creature to get the short shrift in a fairy tale wound up. I didn’t dine on human flesh, I never worked for the IRS, and serial killing as a hobby just didn’t appeal to me. So Low Kingdom wouldn’t normally have been an option.

But I wasn’t clear whose power would transport me. Grimm would see to it I wound up in High Kingdom. Isolde would see to it that I wound up in hell. Not literal hell. I went to Inferno every now and then; that wasn’t so bad. The demons gave me a fair amount of grudging respect as one of the few living apocalypse bringers. They also gave me a fair amount of pure hatred as one of the few living apocalypse enders.

I closed my eyes and took a step forward, and another. The air charged with static electricity. One more step, and when I peeked, the crowds around me drifted like mists, around me, past me, through me.

Holding my breath, I took one final step. For a moment, the sky darkened, and black cracks etched into the road, with the foul stench of open sewage drifting in the air. Shadows drifted toward me, taking form, reaching out. Then Grimm’s power surged through my bracelet and up my arm, enveloping me.

The world flickered like a bad video feed.

This time, the river of colors ran golden and red, the colors of High Kingdom, turning the streets to gold, and instead of sewage, a blast of rose-scented air washed over me. I took a few more steps, nearly sprinting just to be sure, then sat down on the sidewalk, up against a Smiling-Large Golden Dentures shop.

Putting my hand on Grimm’s bracelet, I called him. “How much did forcing me into High Kingdom cost you?”

Grimm appeared in a discarded champagne glass, a miniature version of his usual self. “Consider it simply a bump in the road, certain to be ironed out. And I am in no way concerned with the cost. Be careful at the post office, my dear.”

I don’t know what scared me more, Grimm’s warning to be careful or the implication that the stingiest fairy on earth no longer cared how much magic I cost him. And it had cost him. He tried to hide the pained look on his face, but I’d spent too many years with him to miss it. I’d been in Kingdom earlier, when I followed Ari’s portal, but I couldn’t expect Grimm to spend the magic on a portal anytime I decided to make the trip.

With the gates behind me, I could relax. Get some additional cardio in. Run to the post office, get Grimm’s package, run back. No stopping to smell the singing flowers, no talking animals, and no parades. I checked my laces, grabbed my purse by the short handles, and took off.

When the first squirrel began to scamper along behind me, I didn’t panic. When he began to sing, trilling away a happy tune about the joys of Kingdom on a sunny day, I refused to toss him into a wood chipper, even though that was probably the only option to prevent what came next.

One squirrel became two, two became three plus a family of rabbits, and I’d only gone about two blocks when I looked back and found I’d gathered an entire procession. From the flock of forest creatures who had no business being in the city, to the singing minstrels who had no business being in the city, to the couples twirling and dancing with absolutely no regard for the normal rules of traffic, as usual, everyone wanted in on a parade.

I hated parades almost as much as I detested parties.

The longer this parade gathered steam, the worse the eventual disaster would be at the end of it. I skidded to a stop and spun on my heel, nearly crushing an unobservant cottontail. “What exactly do you think you are doing?”

A group of skipping children with baskets of rose petals stopped short, throwing uncertain fistfuls of petals into the air.

“Who’s going to clean those up? You?” I surveyed the buffet of woodland creatures. “You? That’s littering.” I caught one of the minstrels by his lacy sleeve. “You have a license for street performance? No? Well, stop. This isn’t a parade. I’m going to pick up a package.”

One of the dancing couples continued to spin and twirl, their eyes locked on each other, until I separated them. “Let me guess. You just met and can’t wait to live happily ever after?”

The girl nodded, leaning her head up against the young man. “We’re in love.”

That touched a spot in my heart that I didn’t often admit existed. Even after a decade in the business, I still believed in love at first sight and happily ever after, at least when no one was looking. I took a business card from my pocket, wrote a few instructions on the back, and handed it to her. “When I got engaged, the Fairy Godfather himself gave me a gift. It’s a terrifying experience. A dark ritual that will force you to face truths you want to keep hidden. It’s the best chance you’ve got.”

She turned the card over and read aloud. “Rosa—arrange premarital counseling, at least eight weeks.”

“Real relationships take time.” I spun around, examining the remains of my accidental parade. “Does anyone else still think it’s a good idea to follow me through the streets?”

The thick stench of crushed party hung in the air, and one of the flower girls began to weep.

The Agency business was built on tears. Not literally—the concrete in our building was normal enough, but I dealt with enough weeping on an average day to dehydrate a dolphin. “Listen—back by the gates, I saw a young girl who looked like she fell and scratched her knee. If you hurry, you could get there in time to serenade her.” The group stampeded down the street, singing at the top of their lungs.

If there wasn’t a girl who’d scratched her knee near the gates, by the time that crowd pushed their way through, there would be. And I’d be safely in the post office. I just couldn’t wait to get in line.

Which, incidentally, should have been my first tip-off that something was wrong. I rounded the corner to the post office and saw only an empty marble entrance. On a normal day, the Kingdom Postal Service had a line that snaked out of the door like an anaconda made of pure frustration. I walked right up to the door, threw it open, and nearly choked.

The air indoors had enough humidity that every minute I spent inside would go down as scuba diving practice. The interior of the building held only darkness, and the odor of mud mixed with a smell like someone scooped up a quarter mile of rain forest and dumped it in Kingdom.

“Hello?” I pushed through a stand of bamboo just beyond the marble arch, wondering if a spell had gone wrong, or maybe a bomb and a spell.

With a
whoosh
, a row of torches flickered to life, leading off into the darkness. A distant drum thumped like the beat of my heart echoed, constant and worried.

“Is anyone here? I just want a package. That’s all I need, and you—” On the edges of my vision, forms swarmed in the darkness, flickers of shadow, glints of torchlight in sharp steel.

“Come.” A gnome’s voice echoed from about the height of my knee. I swiped a torch from its holder and swung it in a circle. In the guttering light, gnome eyes gleamed back at me from every angle.

They’d completely destroyed the interior of the post office. The last time I was there, it had been decorated in “Old-Style Government,” which meant marble floors and ceilings mixed with plastic chairs and cheap plastic “Now Serving” signs. Once, giant chandeliers lit vaulted ceilings. Now vines hung like ropes, and gnomes hung like rope-hang-y things from them, every last one sporting a spear that looked like a guitar pick tied to a chopstick.

Grimm could get his own package, as far as I was concerned.

“You know, I think I’ll just come back later.” With a swing of the torch, I cleared a path through the gnomes, took a few steps back, and pushed on the door.

Only smooth granite met my fingertips, cold and impersonal as a “We tried to drop off your package, but you were unconscious” note.

“Someone open the door.” I pounded for a moment on the stone, then spun and put my back to it. It might not let me out, but the wall wouldn’t stab me either.

“Come. Make your sacrifice. See if you live.” I couldn’t tell you which one of the gnomes said it, but the rest took up hooting like a pack of two-foot-tall monkeys. I don’t have a problem with the occasional sacrifice, though I’d had to remind people on more than one occasion that virginity was a state of mind. The whole “See if you live” bit didn’t exactly give me warm cuddles, but at least it wasn’t “And then you die.” That’s almost always bad. So I followed.

Puddles do not belong on the inside of a government facility. The crocodiles were a complete violation of the Exotic Animal law, but I wasn’t going to ask for their facility permit. Turns out, there’s an easy way to tell if it’s safe to cross a given stream: toss a gnome in first.

After what felt like an hour of listening to tribal chanting, punctuated by the occasional “I’m being eaten by a crocodile” gnome scream, I finally reached what I believed was once the main service counter.

Torches on either side lit the window, and a beaten brass gong replaced the service bell. I kicked it like a soccer ball, sending a reverberating crash through the post-forest. “I just want my package. I’ll sign. Eight copies, if you want.”

The gnomes began to chant and stomp their feet in a way that passed way beyond normal into flat-out weird. Then a new one approached from behind the counter, a pair of guitar-pick spears across his back, a miniature hockey stick in his fist. “Make your sacrifice.” He pointed behind me with the stick.

There, a ring of torches illuminated a carven image of the dark jungle god. Goddess. In fact, the longer I looked at it, the more familiar it looked. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Seriously?” I swore at myself again. In the middle of the wreckage that remained, surrounded by a tribe of feral gnomes, I stood before a fourteen-foot statue of myself.

“Where did you get the picture to carve this from? I don’t look like that most of the time. And while I’m flattered, if I had a bust like that, I wouldn’t be able to stand up, let alone walk. And my hips do
not
look like that. Do they?” I almost missed the ring of pointy spears.

“Make a sacrifice.” The young gnome at the counter screamed, leaping up and down like a gorilla in a rampage.

“Not going to happen. Let me out of here, give me my package, and for the love of god, carve a new face on the statue.” I could send them a picture of Ari’s stepmother, if they wanted to kneel before a monster.

Something hissed in the darkness, and a stinging fire lit up my arm. I pulled away a dart the size of my fingernail. For one moment, I thought about calling for Grimm. About screaming for help. Without a mirror to catch his reflection, Grimm couldn’t watch, let alone help. A chorus of hissing, a flurry of pinpricks, and my body lit up all over with pain.

Then one of them lassoed me with a vine as I felt my hip and pulled out another dart. Like a five-foot, eight-inch tree, I collapsed, crushing a gnome or two as I fell, and the world became very fuzzy.