Grimm Tidings: Grimm's Circle, Book 6 (5 page)

“If I do ‘clean it up’ as you say, then those who’ve been lost to the demons, their families will never know what happened, never have closure.” He’d done more than his share of cleaning up but he also knew sometimes that caused more problems than it was worth.

Like with Celine…

A hand touched his arm.

Steeling himself to not let anything show, he looked at her, waited.

“We both screwed up,” Mandy said quietly. “I’m the one who pushed you to bring her over. She just…she fought so hard.”

“No. It was my error, not yours. Yes, she fought. She fought like a woman who wanted to make it back to her husband,” he corrected gently. “And I couldn’t give her that. But it was my mistake, not yours.”

Sighing, he looked back at the mess of bodies littering the alley. “We’ll leave them. The families deserve to say good-bye.”

“And the police will be looking for answers they have no chance of finding.”

Will shrugged. “That is not my concern. They often have that very problem.”

Chapter Three

The darkness, the ice, the nothingness, it lasted forever. Celine was certain of it. So certain of it that she wasn’t even sure anything else even existed anymore.

And then…it ended.

Her feet were on solid ground and she was gasping for air, clinging to Jacob, her fingers digging into the hard muscles of his biceps, her head pressed against his chest while she waited for the spinning in her brain to stop.

He stood there, as always, unaffected.

And staring off into the distance when she finally managed to lift her head from his chest.

“What…was…that?”

“Do you remember your old life?”

“
Remember
? Damn straight I remember. All I want is to get that life
back
.”
I just want a chance to fix things…fix all of it. Apologize.
Shit, the guilt was choking her. Guilt, grief, regret. “I want my
life
back,” she said again.

“That life,” he murmured.

As the darkness slowly receded, she stared at him for a long moment and then finally turned her head to look around. “Where…”

The question died on her tongue. She knew where.

Swallowing, she stared at the restaurant. She remembered this place. Remembered it. The soft green lights of the restaurant’s marquee shown down and through the tinted glass windows she could see people moving back and forth. It was her Grimm’s abilities that let her see more clearly—had she been human, she wouldn’t have seen so well, but she wasn’t human anymore. And she could see just fine—too fine.

And she heard rather well too.

“Are…are you okay?”

That was Trish’s voice.

There was a pause, followed by Gavin’s. “Yeah, just fucking great.”

Another voice now, one she hadn’t heard in years. Kyle…one of Gavin’s friends. He’d been with them that night. The night they’d all gone out. The night she’d died. “You need to go after her.”

“Why? What’s the point?”

Following the direction of the voices, she found them, standing in the darkness of the sheltered balcony. That was where—

Her breathing hitched in her throat. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

“You want to see what would have come of your life,” Jacob said, his voice flat, emotionless. “Perhaps you should see what was
already
happening. What you couldn’t see then. What happened after you left that night. What might have happened if you’d made different choices. In short, it’s time for you to open your eyes, sweet.”

His hand curled over the back of her neck, and as her stomach clenched, he said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry…?”

A raised voice drew her attention back to the three on the balcony. It had just been the four of them out there that night—a cool night, and they’d been the last ones in the place, when she’d stormed off.

Right after slapping her husband.

Right after he’d all but told her he wanted out of their marriage.

“You don’t want to let her just take off that way, damn it,” Kyle snapped.

“Why not?” Gavin dropped into a chair, staring out over the river toward Louisville. “You heard her, damn it.”

“I heard you both. Nine years, man—you’ve been together nine years and you’re just going to let it
go
?” Kyle was staring off in the darkness.
 

In the direction she’d gone, Celine thought. Swallowing, she rubbed the heel of her hand over her chest.

“Kyle, shut up,” Trish said. “Gavin needs some time to…”

Something about the way Trish looked at him made Celine’s gut clench. She turned away, wished she could block out her hearing the way she could keep herself from seeing them.

“Damn it, are you going to go after her or not?”

“No.” Gavin sounded certain and sure. “I’m not. It’s done, man. Over and done.”

Done…
Tears pricked Celine’s eyes.

“Shit.” Kyle’s voice was a disgusted snarl. “You’re going to regret this in the morning, when you’re a little more sober, Gav.”

“Leave me alone.”

Because she couldn’t
not
look, she turned her head and watched as Trish snuggled down next to Gavin—next to Celine’s husband.
 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but this is bullshit. This isn’t real,” Celine said quietly. “This isn’t that night.”

“You’re wrong. It is real.” Jacob’s hand, strong and steady, rested on her shoulder. “And I think you know it. Come.”

Before she could even ask, they were gone, caught up in that icy dark maw. The only warmth, once more, was Jacob. And as the moments stretched out, her dread grew.

It ended sooner this time, Celine thought.

Only seconds, she thought. And they were still close. But as she stared around, a fist reached up and grabbed her by the throat.
No
—

She shook her head, backing away from Jacob as soon as her legs would let her. Or trying to—the bastard followed her. “Not here, damn it. I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to see…”

She didn’t
need
to see it—she saw it often enough in her nightmares, relived those memories more often than she cared to recall. Did he expect her to
watch
it as well?

The words locked in her throat and she couldn’t force them out.
I don’t want to see what happened to me. I don’t want to see how they killed me.

“Shhh.” Jacob’s hand slid down from her shoulder to her lower back, stroking her there in small, steady circles. “I wouldn’t show you that. There was another road you could have taken that night. Do you remember?”

She swallowed, remembered the weird noises she’d heard—a strangled scream, at first. Then a louder one. Her gut had told her to run. But a stronger instinct had told her…
you should help
. She should have listened to her gut.

“Look.” Jacob pointed and she hissed out a breath as she saw herself. Déjà vu…

Driving the car and slowing down at a red light. Like it was yesterday. She even remembered what she had been thinking. Did she try to go home? She’d been so pissed—so angry. Needed to think. Needed to breathe. And some small part of her wanted to stay out late, make him worry. Make him wonder and brood.

Celine swallowed as she stared at the mortal she’d been. Though yards separated them, she could see the tears. It was…freaky, she decided. Watching herself cry, knowing she’d be dead in just a short time.

“No. This is the other route you could have taken.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. Then she scowled, watched as her past self lifted her head.

The sounds rippled through the air. Struggles she hadn’t heard then, followed by a weaker plea.

She hadn’t heard any of that then.

She’d rather not hear it
now
—the wet grunts, the groans. She’d rather not scent the fear, the panic. Three demons had grabbed a nineteen-year-old girl from the streets—they’d raped her, then decided to haul her somewhere to do it again before they killed her.

Celine had heard the screams, followed. Watched as they pulled her into a car and for reasons she couldn’t explain, instead of calling the cops, she’d rushed in, thinking only to help.

She hadn’t been able to save the girl…or herself.

Now she watched the younger version of herself debate on what to do as a scream ripped through the air. “It doesn’t even matter in the end. They killed her. I couldn’t help and I ended up dead myself.”

And Celine watched as the car turned left…away from the demons she hadn’t known existed.

“This isn’t right…”

“No. This is what could have been.”

“Why are you showing me this?” Celine demanded once Jacob dragged her through another vortex.

The time switch did nothing to him—it was his gift, and his curse, seeing as he often flitted back to his own time to torment himself. Or he had at one time. Not so much anymore.

But it was hell on others.

A special hell on Celine, one he didn’t want to share with her. She needed to see, though.

“Why are we here?” She stared at her house. It was dark, the lights out. “There’s nobody here.”

But even as the words died, the sound of a car engine drew close and in moments, they were watching as Trish came to a stop in front of the house. The pain coming off Celine now was obscene. Her instincts were sound. She suspected she was about to see something painful. He wished he didn’t need to show her this.

Wished there was another way to make her realize the past she was clinging to no longer existed.

Trish followed Gavin to the door. Gavin didn’t invite it. That much was clear. But when Trish leaned against him and pressed herself to him, the man didn’t fight it overmuch either.

It wasn’t until the woman went to unzip his jeans that Celine’s husband did anything. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Trish asked. “It’s not like she cares…she already told you that. It’s not like you
want
to be married to her anymore.”

“It…” Gavin extricated himself from her grasp and moved away, leaning over the railing of the porch, staring into the darkness. “One fight doesn’t mean—hell. Look, Trish. I’m married. Okay?”

“But you don’t want to be.” She came up to stand behind him. “Not to her. Not anymore. Do you?”

“I…” Gavin sighed. “You know what? That doesn’t matter. I’m
still
married. And until that’s not the case, this can’t happen.”

No
—

She jerked and backed away, unable to listen, unable to watch. “I don’t want to see this—this is
bullshit
. Gavin wouldn’t have fucked around on me.”

“You’re right.” Jacob nodded. “He didn’t. Not that night—not since. He’s kept himself faithful, hoping you’d come back. But this isn’t about what
happened
. It’s about what
could
have happened.”

He nodded toward the street. “Watch.”

The next few minutes passed in a blur of screams and fury. Trish had gone to kiss Gavin again. He had been pushing her away, that much Celine could see…
now
.

But that night? The woman she
had
been? Apparently all Celine had seen was another woman in her husband’s arms.

And by the time the police arrived, Trish was bleeding from her nose, clutching her belly, and Gavin was holding Celine away from the woman, even though the look in his eyes clearly said he didn’t want to be touching her.

“Had you taken that other road, he would have moved out of the house two days later, filed for divorce within the week.”

“No.” Celine turned away and stalked down the street away from the house where she had lived with her husband. Away from whatever trick Jacob had conjured up to make her accept this bullshit life.

“You’re not telling me that he divorced me for
her
,” she bit off as Jacob caught up with her.

“No. He divorced you because the two of you weren’t happy together. You hadn’t been for a long time. Trish only aggravated the matter.”

“But—”

“There are no
buts
. You weren’t happy. The two of you barely managed to co-exist together. You wanted children. He did not. He wanted to pursue a writing career and you were terrified it wouldn’t happen. You had different dreams for your lives and somewhere along the way, you fell out of love.”

“Wrong!” She spun around and glared at Jacob. “I still love him.”

“There is love, and there is
in
love. Have you forgotten the difference?”

She sneered at him. “What in the hell do you know about love, you damned iceberg?”

She never even saw him move. One moment, he was three feet away. And then he was only inches away, his long body, so lean and warm, caging hers in against something cool and metal—a car? Truck? She didn’t know, didn’t care. One hand rested by her shoulder. The other cupped her chin. “More than you would think, sweet. Far more than you would think.” Then his mouth was on hers.