Furious Fire: Grimm's Circle, Book 8 (3 page)

Well, Will had. He doubted it was because of his lost humanity, though. Dreams offered solace and respite. Those were things lost to him.

But the rest of them?

Finn sighed and linked his hands, pressed them to his brow. He sat there, as though he prayed. In the middle of the crowded, noisy bar, he sat lost in a silence all his own. Finally, he turned and looked at Will.

“I dream of her. And the…” He closed his eyes. “The others. The times I’ve messed up. They haunt me, Will.”

“Why would they not?” Will made his tone cool. “We’re here to protect mortals. When we stop caring about those we didn’t protect, then we’re done.”

Brooding, Finn stared at nothing. “Like Ira.”

“Ira.” Will rubbed his brow. “Yes, like Ira.”

Finn closed a hand into a fist. “Sometimes I worry I’m becoming too much like him.”

Will could see that worry, how it rode on the boy, and he wondered how much of that fear had to do with the darkness that always rode inside the reckless angel.

Too many looked at Finn and saw a man with a cocky smile and wild way about him and they didn’t realize just what lay below the surface. After some of the mistakes that lay in Finn’s past, perhaps they had reason to worry.

Finn, after all, was one of the very few who had an ability that would let him kill another Grimm—with ease. And he’d done it, when he’d been only a few decades old.

Some thought Will should have taken his wings and sent him onto a real, and lasting, death.

But they hadn’t realized what all had transpired that fateful night.

“You’re not like Ira, Finn,” Will said slowly. “If anything, you care too much. You can’t shed the weight of your past and every mortal you fail and you carry those deaths around like a chain to drag you down.”

“As I should.”

“At some point, you need to let the guilt go.” Will studied the bar in front of them instead of looking at the man as his side. None knew the weight of guilt as he did. “Or it will drive you mad. And no, you’re not there. Not yet, at any rate. Above all, while there are mistakes, you can’t forget the lives you saved. Or that he was the one who turned his back on his duty. You tried to save them, Finn. You tried. In the end, as strong as we are, as many gifts as we are given, we are not perfect. All we can do is try. And you did.”

The words weren’t as reassuring as Finn would like to hear, Will imagined. But after a moment, the other man nodded and lowered his hands, looking to the bartender.

After he had another whiskey in front of him, he looked at Will. “Not that I’m not
delighted
to see you,” Finn said caustically, “but just why are you here?”

“Because I have a job for you.” Will slid him a look, gauged him within a moment. Steadier now. Steadier than he’d been in a few days, he suspected. Maybe Will hadn’t given him comfort, but Finn didn’t seek comfort. All he needed was a reason to continue the fight.

Finn slid him a look, his melted copper eyes flashing. “I thought I wasn’t trusted to handle assignments for the time being.”

“This is easy enough for you and you’re one of the few I have available.” Will kept his voice level, his expression blank. “I need somebody to follow up on it. You’re the only one with the ability handle the outbreak if the problem has returned. I’m going to have to trust you to control yourself.” He slanted a look at him. “Can I?”

Finn’s hand tightened around his empty glass. Then he looked up, called out for the hulking brute behind the bar. “I need another.”

The man lumbered down, eyeing Finn skeptically. “You’ve already had four, kid. I’d rather not get my ass sued when they have to scrape you off the pavement.”

Will bit back a snort of amusement. Life had been easier when people minded their own business, when people didn’t think they could sue for simply being stupid.

Finn’s eyes flashed an ominous gold.

Behave
, Will snapped with a mental slap.

Finn didn’t flinch although Will had hit him with enough psychic force to hurt. A lot.

Keeping his voice mild, Will leaned forward, catching the bartender’s eye. “He can hold his liquor. You needn’t worry about a lawsuit. We’ll give you cash for the bottle and you should forget you saw us,” he said, the compulsion sliding out of him as easily as a human would expel air.

The man’s eyes took on a glassy look.

Not even a minute passed before the bottle came down on the bar top in front of them and the cash was tucked away inside the contraption behind the bar.

“Jedi mind tricks,” Finn muttered, his voice still pulsing with anger.

A few years ago, the pop culture reference would have confused him, but Mandy had been rather insistent that he move into the current millennium. Lifting his shoulder, Will glanced over at Finn. “‘These are not the droids you’re looking for…’ That’s the correct line, isn’t it?”

Finn squinted at him. “I’d almost swear
you
were possessed. But that’s not possible.”

Will tapped the bottle. “If you want it bad enough to piss him off, drink on up.”

Finn knocked back two more shots before he spoke again. “Just where am I going?”

“Scotland.”

Scotland
.

Finn stared at Will, thought of things he didn’t want to think of. Of pale skin dusted with freckles and determined eyes. Of yet another he had failed. His hand clenched into a fist as heat started to spread through his veins, his skin burning hotter and hotter. Red shifted, formed, swirled, like an imaginary fire under his skin. He grabbed that heat, cooled it before it could spiral out of control and then he turned his head, met Will’s eyes.

“No.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Will’s silver eyes were unrelenting and his voice was harder than granite. “I need somebody there and it will be you.”

Staring into those eyes that might have never been human, Finn fought the urge to grab the man and smash him against something. Will
knew
how much Finn hated that place, hated the despair he’d witness there…knew of his failures.

And he didn’t care.

“I hate Scotland.”

“You hate almost everything, Finn.” Will shrugged, lifted a shoulder as though he was unperturbed by the thought. “I could send you to Alaska—there’s a similar problem going on the Aleutian Islands and you would complain because it is cold. No. You’re going to Scotland. That’s where I need you. You’re familiar with the area—”

“It’s been seventy years!”

Will just looked at him.

“Exactly.” As Finn turned his head and focused on the bottle in front of him, Will continued to speak. “It’s been seventy years, time enough for you to move on. You’re familiar with the area, and you, more than most, will be able to get yourself out of a tight spot should there be a need for concern.”

“Why? Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” he demanded, his voice rising, loud enough that a few of the mortals around them shot them curious glances.

“Yes, let’s make this discussion interesting enough that I have to wipe minds when I leave,” Will said, sliding Finn a dark look.

Finn had no psychic abilities at all. It was a rare thing because most Grimm had at least a base ability even if it was weak, the ability to send out a silent summons, or the ability erase a few moments from a human memory. It was a huge pain in the ass too. With his ability, and his lack of
other
abilities, he could use that handy little skill.

Instead, he called fire like he was a walking, talking matchstick—the kind that never, ever went out.

But that was pretty much it. Oh, he was just as strong, just as fast as any other Grimm. He had the healing abilities. But he couldn’t reach out and touch someone, so to speak, the way his brothers-and-sisters-in-arms could. The only one he could contact as needed was Will. Will was the
last
one he wanted to chat with.

Sliding Will a narrow look, he tossed back another shot of whiskey. “Well, I’d be happy to be quiet…cooperative even. If I don’t have to do this.”

“You’re the only option.” Will leaned forward, his eyes locked on some spot on the wall. “You’re going because I’ve now heard of three different cases where people have gone missing—two families and a group of college kids. The college kids and one of the families had gone to Buchanan Castle—or that was the report and there was evidence people had been there. The other family disappeared off the A75. We’ve dealt with trouble there before. We’re not doing it again.”

“The A75? You’re kidding me. That’s an old urban legend. People claim to see shit all the time. There’s nothing—”

Will touched the bar. Although his hand was empty when he brought it down, as he spread it out, pictures spread out.

“Damn.” After so much time, Finn kept thinking he’d get used to all the oddities that came with being Will. It hadn’t happened yet. “You could make David Copperfield weep.”

Will frowned.

Finn suspected the pop culture reference threw him. They usually did. He was proven right at Will’s next comment.

“I don’t see how this relates to a book written more than a century ago. This is serious, Finn. Look at her.
Look
.”

Finn couldn’t stop himself from doing just that.

It was a child.

A pretty girl, young.

Pig-tailed with a bright smile.

“She’s missing,” he said, his voice gruff.

“No.
She
is dead. They found her near the car. The coroner found signs of a heart attack, although how that happens with a child so young and no heart defect?” Will placed the picture down. “The others in her family are missing. A teenager—fifteen years old. The parents. She was the only one left behind. You can imagine why.”

The inherent innocence of a child prevented them from being possessed by the demonic. The hosts had to be open, in some way, to the possession. Children had an innocence to them that didn’t allow it.

They could be killed, though.

Nothing was safe from the rot these things brought.

“Three group disappearances. Is that all we have?” He reached out, touched the other images, lifted up a picture of a car.

There were nail marks dragging down the side.

His gut twisted at the sight of them. He knew where those had come from.

“Three…in the past year. That have been reported.”

There were too many things unspoken in that comment.

Finn studied the picture a moment longer and then looked at Will.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked softly.

Will’s silver-white hair slid over his shoulders, shielding him as he stared toward the grimy windows facing the nearly empty street. “There was a village—almost empty. Less than a few hundred still remained and more left every year. This past winter…it was a harsh one.”

Finn narrowed his eyes. “I’m aware. You had us checking every demon haunt we could find—and some we’d never heard of. Activity was sky high.”

One small town in Alaska was nothing but a memory. At the last census, only seven hundred and ninety two people called the place home during the winter and since then, yet more families had moved.

At some point in February, a woman living in Juneau had become concerned because she hadn’t heard from her daughter since Christmas. It might have gone unnoticed for even longer, but the woman’s father was a state Senator.

Greta and Rip had arrived less than thirty minutes after the airplane had touched down.

They hadn’t been able to stop him from putting in the first panicked phone call.

Greta had been forced to use her ability to control the man’s mind while Rip went through and cleaned up anything that would allude to paranormal involvement. There would be questions forever unanswered in that small, isolated town.

For all the mortal world knew, they’d run out of food and turned on each other.

Greta and Rip had spent the next two months running the vankyr
involved into the ground.

They’d fed, and fed, and fed…on so many people.

Bile churning in his gut, he stared at the scarred surface of the bar, waited until he knew the fire in him wouldn’t spill out before he asked. “The town—what does it have to do with the missing families, the college kids?”

“It was located only forty minutes from Buchanan Castle. There’s nothing directly connecting them.”

Will’s voice was almost carefully empty.

“Everybody?”

“Yes. Mostly older people—born there, didn’t want to die anywhere else. A woman who’d moved there in hopes of opening an inn to attract tourists. The man who ran the pub. All gone.”

“You’re thinking vankyr, aren’t you?”

“Yes. That’s why I have to send you. Even if they catch you unaware, all you have to do is turn on that flamethrower that masquerades as your body these days.” Ironic humor threaded into Will’s voice. “You can eliminate an entire pack, down into dust.”

Finn started to thump his empty glass on the bar. “If you were going to fuck me like this, you could have at least bought me the
good
whiskey.”

That went better than I thought
. Will watched as Finn slid off the stool and cut through the crowd. He didn’t bother following. He could track every one of his Grimm, in a heartbeat.

For now, he’d just sit and brood a moment longer.

This had to work.

If it didn’t, if Finn’s spells with depression kept getting worse, if he kept having to kill the woman he loved time after time…

No.
He made the choice then and there. If he wasn’t able to find a way to break the loop, then Will would do the only thing left to
be
done. Finn wouldn’t even have to know what was coming.

It would be a kindness.

For the boy.

It would cause another part of Will’s shriveled, worthless soul to die, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t sold that out back during a time most men now ascribed to myth.

The thought sent the echo, a memory of pain, suffered eons ago—back in his mortal life—tearing through.
Rope, biting in
—

Will cut the trickle of memory off and shoved it back into the well with all the other memories. The mists of time obscured most of them.