Candy Houses

by Shiloh Walker

  “If you don’t want to hurt me, then why are you doing this?”

  The headache pounded behind my eyes. I rubbed at my temple and sighed. I was feeling seriously exasperated at this point. “Look, I’ve already explained that you were getting ready to dive into something you couldn’t possibly handle—”

  “You don’t know me!” she screamed at me. She jerked so hard against her restraints that she managed to make the chair clatter on the ground.

  “You sure about that?”

  “Fuck you.”

  I made a face at her. “I’m so sorry, but you’re a little young for me and you’re also female.”

  She opened her mouth, going to yell at me again, I was sure. Lifting a hand, I cut her off. “Look, here’s the deal. I know you. A lot better than you think. You’re angry, you’re pissed off. You’ve had bad shit happen to you and it’s usually because of things you don’t feel you can control. So you want to take control. You’ve always been different…” I paused and looked her over. She had that Goth-girl look going, but that wasn’t what made her stand out. It was something only certain individuals can see…people like me. And demonkind. She had some sort of gift and that gift made her different. “You feel like you’re on the outside looking in because of it. You hated it. Until you realized you could use it. So you started using it a little. Then a little more. Maybe you started needing it, maybe it started using you.”

  She stared at me, that strange purple gaze darkening to twilight. She didn’t speak, but I saw the answer in her eyes.

  “Where did you get the book?”

  She looked away.

  Rip leaned by the counter just behind her, a small smile on his lips. I glared at him. I felt like I was beating my head against a brick wall, not getting anywhere and I was damned tired of it.

  He shook his head a little and shoved off the counter. He bent down. “What’s your name, girl?”

  Under the warm gold of her complexion, she went pale. “Muh…Mandy.”

  “Where did you find the book, Mandy? Did somebody give it to you?”

  But she wasn’t going to share that answer with him. Even if he did terrify her.

  “Don’t worry about it right now, Rip,” I said. “Right now, it doesn’t matter. We’ll figure that out later…assuming she lives through this.”

  Her eyes popped wide, but I was done dealing with her for now. Stupid girl doing stupid things, messing with forces she couldn’t even begin to understand, and being too stupid to realize that we were trying to help.

  Rip followed me into the other room, closing the door behind him. “This wasn’t exactly how I’d expected things to play out,” I told him as I headed for one of the chairs. “You know, a few days ago, I was going out of my mind with boredom.”

  “Well, at least you’re no longer bored.”

  “I’d rather be bored.” I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of the chair. Everything was in sheer chaos. I’d fallen into a bit of a rut lately, and now that I was out of the rut, part of me wanted back in.

  Even if it meant no more Rip.

  I stared at him and tried to figure out just how he’d ended up back in my life. How he’d already managed to become such an important part of that life. Yet again. I’d managed to avoid him for the better part of the last century and I’d planned on keeping to that pattern indefinitely.

  You know what they say about best-laid plans.

  He glanced around the cottage. “At least you have some privacy here,” he murmured. “Since she’s not being…”

  From behind him, we could hear her screaming, “Damn it, let me out of here.”

  “Cooperative,” he finished.

  When I’d gotten into Ann Arbor a few days earlier, I’d found this little cottage within a few hours. At the time, I’d thought I’d really lucked out. Most people don’t want to rent out to people for short, indeterminate periods of time—I’d told the owner I may be there a few days or a few months. As long as I paid by the week, the owner hadn’t cared.

  Yep, I thought I’d gotten really lucky, but as we listened to my unhappy guest, I decided luck had nothing to do with it. Fate, God, take your pick had everything to do with it. Instead of living in some microscopic, long-term efficiency-styled hotel room, I had a modicum of privacy, a for-real bedroom and a sofa bed in the living room and plenty of room for my unexpected guests.

  I rested my elbows on my knees and watched as Rip straightened and shrugged out of his coat. The back of the coat was seriously messed up. Like it had gotten caught in a meat grinder or something.

  “That used to be a very nice coat,” I said, biting my cheek to keep from smiling as he stared at the back of the coat in disgust.

  “Yes. It did.” His voice had a clipped edge to it—he was younger than me and hadn’t completely lost his accent. Back when he had been born, Americans didn’t sound like they do now—it was a softer version of a British accent. Even in the older ones like me, when we are angry or upset, something of it still bleeds through. Personally, I think it’s going to be a shame when Rip loses his accent altogether. It’s sexy.

  Hell, Rip is sexy. Rip is mouth-watering. Rip is…staring at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, I realized. Of course, I’d been staring at his mouth so it wasn’t like I’d been practicing much in the way of subtlety, I guess.

  He threw the coat down on the coffee table and started to approach me. I tensed up and then made a concentrated effort to relax. It seemed rather pointless to get worked up when he got in my personal space. After all, last night we’d spent a decent amount of time getting in each other’s personal space.

  “This isn’t over,” he murmured as he knelt down in front of me and rested his hands on my thighs.

  Was he talking about us? Or the mess with the girl? I really wasn’t sure.

  I reached up and ran a hand through his hair, watching as the strands fell back into place.

  “She had a book and you said you’d burned it. Her friend had a book. That many close together spells bad news.”

  Okay, so he was talking work. I continued to play with his hair and closed my eyes. “Seriously bad news.”

  It was my mess, though. I’d stumbled into it and it was my obligation to see it through.

  Screw obligations. I opened my eyes and looked at him, getting lost in the soft, velvety brown of his eyes. “Will you stay? Help me with it?” I cupped his cheek in my hand, felt his rough stubble graze my palm.

  “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me.” He turned his face my hand and kissed it.

  I found myself thinking wistfully, How about forever? Can you stay forever?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Rip stuck his head under the piss-poor showerhead and rinsed the shampoo from his hair. He had the water on cold in the hopes that it would clear his mind. He had a job to do and he was letting himself get distracted—

  Hell. Greta was more than a distraction.

  To him, she was everything.

  The silver medallion around his neck grew warm against his skin as he reached for the soap. Rip ignored it. The warmth faded. But ten seconds later, it did it again and this time, it wasn’t warm—it was hot. Hot enough that when he glanced down, he saw a faint red mark where the metal had rested against his skin. Swearing, he finished scrubbing off and rinsed off. He reached up and closed his hand around the bit of silver and closed his eyes.

  What?

  Rip didn’t bother wasting time with pleasantries. Not with this jerk.

  You are on assignment. The voice echoed inside his head.

  Yes, I am. But I’ve also got an obligation to help my brethren.

  Helping your brethren…is that what you call this? That is why you linger? It has nothing to do with Gretel?

  There was a sly undertone to the words and Rip curled his lip, wished he wasn’t just communicating via mind, wished the bastard was there so he could punch him. She doesn’t go by Gretel anymore.

  That is no an
swer.

  I know my job, Rip answered. I’ve never failed yet, have I?

  There is always a first time. There was a pause and then, So you expect me to believe you’ll resume your duties tonight? That you will leave this mess to Gretel?

  Her name is Greta, Rip corrected. She hates the name Gretel and you know that. Don’t worry. I remember my obligations. I’ll see to them.

  I hope you do.

  The presence withdrew and Rip was alone in his head once more. Scowling, he let go of the charm and looked down at his chest. The faint redness had already faded, his body soaking up the small injury like a sponge.

  He needed to get some sleep. His head was all cloudy, from fatigue, from worry…from Greta. He needed sleep and he needed to think, to plan.

  He remembered his obligations, all right.

  And taking care of Greta was obligation number one.

  Rip stared out the window, watching as the sun sank ever closer to the horizon. Behind him, Greta straddled a chair, facing Mandy. No softness, no warmth glinted in her eyes as she said, “The book, Mandy. I want to know where you got it, and I want to know now.”

  Mandy replied with the same answer as before. “Fuck you.”

  Inwardly, Rip winced. Greta had pretty much stretched her patience as far as it would go. As night drew closer so did the risk to others. If there were any more of the books come nightfall there was a chance another foolish human was going to try and use them.

  They needed to know more about them, and they needed to know it now.

  He could feel Greta’s urgency, and her disgust.

  If the girl had known anything about Greta, she might have given a different answer. She might have just told Greta what she needed to know—they’d all be better for it.

  Greta was still for a moment, still and quiet. Then she came out of the seat and came to stand in front of the girl. Her face was expressionless.

  His heart ached as he watched them. Ached for Greta.

  When each of them came to the Circle, they were granted with gifts—increased strength, speed, near invulnerability. And each of them received a gift that was uniquely their own. Some of them became better hunters. Some were gifted with empathy, an ability that let them connect with those they would try to help in their new lives.

  But not all of the gifts worked the same. Some were less desirable than others, and Greta’s was one of the worst. She had been gifted with coercion, an ability that let her force her will on others. That gift could get ugly and it had its own built-in controlling mechanism. She couldn’t use it without pain and the more she used it on the same person, the worse the pain got.

  “Tell me what I need to know about the book.”

  Her voice had an edge of command in it, the sort of command that simply wouldn’t be ignored. Hell, if Rip knew anything about the book that Greta didn’t already know, he would have been singing like a songbird. Even though he didn’t know anything, he was still hard-pressed to keep his mouth shut.

  Grinding his teeth together, he closed his eyes and tried to block Greta out.

  He was successful.

  Mandy wasn’t. She was all but screeching out her answers.

  Over and over. Louder and louder.

  Greta said, “Enough.”

  The coercion was broken and Rip opened his eyes, drawing a deep breath to dispel the lingering effects.

  “You make any sense of that?” Greta asked him as she settled back down in her chair.

  Rip lifted a hand. He was still trying to recall just what Mandy had said.

  Once the words settled into some sort of cohesive order, it was like somebody had just doused him with a bucket of cold water. He didn’t realize he was gaping at Mandy until Greta cleared her throat.

  “Any way she could be making that up?” he asked, forcing the words out.

  Greta just stared at him. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  Mandy gaped at Greta in horror. “What did you do to me?”

  “Only what had to be done.”

  Rip waited until Greta had left the room before he moved to the girl. She stared at him with dark eyes, fear written all over her. It clung to her. “What did she do to me?”

  “As she said, only what had to be done.”

  Mandy shook her head. “She made me tell her. I felt it, it was like she ripped it out of me and I couldn’t stop her.”

  “You’re right. You couldn’t. I imagine it hurt.”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed. Bending down, he studied her face closely. Yes, she hurt—he could see the line of pain between her eyes, see it in the tense way she hunched over in the chair. With a cool smile, he said, “Good. Perhaps next time, you will just tell her what she needs to know when she asks you, instead of making her force it out of you.”

  He found Greta in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked at him, her eyes dark in her wan face.

  “Is it bad?” he murmured, kneeling in front of her.

  “Not too bad.” She gave him a weak smile. “She’s already so scared it didn’t take much to force the answer out of her. I’ll be good in a minute.”

  And she would. He’d seen her in action before, knew how quickly she recovered from the pain. But he hated it. Hated every second that she had to suffer when she used the coercion.

  “She said one of her friends gave her the book,” Greta murmured, closing her eyes. “Now I have to find this friend of hers—this Fae chick.”

  “We have to find this friend of hers,” Rip corrected. He settled on the bed behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders. She tensed at first and then, as he started to knead the tight muscles, she relaxed and leaned into his touch.

  One good thing, though, at least his loyalties no longer felt divided. His need to help Greta, his obligation to his duty—they were one and the same now.

  “You sure you’re good to keep hanging around?” Greta studied his face, reaching up to trace her fingertips over his mouth. “Not that I don’t love having you here, but you were on the move when we met up. You were trailing somebody, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Unable to stay still, he got up and moved to the window, staring out in the fading light of day.

  Greta was staring at him. He could feel it. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “I’m on the trail of a Grimm named Fae.”

  Greta’s jaw dropped. Stunned, she gaped at him. “Did you say you’re on the trail of a Grimm? One of us?”

  I’ve been living this life for close to five hundred years. I’ve seen a lot of things, heard a lot of things, done a lot of things. Not much managed to take me by complete and utter surprise, but Rip had just done it.

  For the first time, I found myself wondering if I maybe I just needed to call it quits. I’m not stuck in this life. I’ve got an out option I can exercise when I see fit. Right now might be a good time, because if Rip was on the tail of another Grimm, maybe it was time to turn in my wings, so to speak, and just live out the rest of my life as a human.

  I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted to be in a world where the good guys weren’t the good guys anymore. I didn’t want to live in a world where the guardian angels were no angels.

  “What do you mean you’re trailing after a Grimm?”

  He stared at me, his dark brown eyes unreadable. “You heard me well enough, Greta. I’ve been trying to track her for the past two months and every time I get close, she slips away.”

  “Why are you trailing after her?”

  “To see if she remembers how to make hot-cross buns—nobody makes them like she used to,” he said. Broad shoulders rose and fell in a sigh and then he turned away from the window to pace the room. “You know why I’m after her, Greta. I wouldn’t be assigned to this if there wasn’t a problem.”

  “Could there be a mistake?” I really wanted him to say, Yeah, I think there’s a mistake and once I find her, we can clear all of this up. But he wasn’t going to do that. I could see the answer in his eyes.

&nb
sp; If Mandy had gotten the book from a Grimm, there was no mistake.

  “What do you do when you find her?”

  Rip shot me a look over his shoulder. “When did you make the choice, Greta? Do you remember the year?”

  I scowled. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I’m just wondering. You’re older than I am—you were doing this before I was even born. How can you possibly have any bit of naiveté left inside you?”

  Naïve?

  I gaped at him. He’d just called me naïve.

  I was born in 1501. I didn’t have a naïve bone left in my body, and hadn’t for some time. “I am not naïve,” I snarled.

  “Then you know what I’ll do when I find her. I’ll do the only thing I can do.”

  I rubbed the heel of my hand over my chest. My heart…it hurt. I fisted my hand around the medallion I wore. It was just like the one Rip wore. Just like the one this “Fae” would be wearing…if she really was a Grimm. I didn’t know her. I hadn’t heard of her, but that didn’t mean anything. Like I said, there are a lot of us.

  “You’ll take her wings,” I murmured.

  “Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Will you kill her?”

  Rip just stared at me.

  “Of course you’ll kill her,” I muttered. “It’s not like she’s likely to see the error of her ways. It’s not like she’s going to relinquish her immortality or face the consequences. Dear God, maybe I am naïve.”

  I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He sighed and crossed the floor to stand in front of me. “No…you’re not.”

  “You just told me I was.”

  He cupped my face in his hand, rubbed his thumb over my lower lip. Just like earlier, that simple gesture had my knees going weak. It had my heart racing. It had me wanting to press my mouth to his and find some measure of comfort, some measure of heat to ease the cold ache in my heart.