Origins (The Grimm Cases Book 1)

by Lyla Oweds

  The world was fuzzy, but I still noticed when Julian tensed.

  “What is it? Is there something wrong?” he asked.

  “We’ll have to see,” Damen replied, moving his hands over my shoulders. “Bianca.” His voice was closer, and I fought the urge to open my eyes. “What do you know about your birth parents?”

  Once again, I was in that semi-lucid state between sleep and wakefulness. Damen repeated my name, his tone more forceful, and my eyes popped open.

  “What?” I jerked up, snapping out of that place of isolation. Pain resurfaced, and my head collided with Julian’s chin with a loud crack.

  I had broken his face.

  “Oh my God!” I gasped in both pain and dismay. I only had one victim left! I would have to stay away from Miles forever. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Julian hissed out a curse and gripped my arms, but didn’t push me off his lap.

  Damen chuckled, somehow finding this situation comical despite its seriousness. “I’m beginning to suspect that this is deliberate—or you are clumsy. In either case, I approve of this payback. Good job.”

  “It’s not deliberate! I’ve never been accident prone before!” I whined through my fingers. This was their fault—they were getting into my personal space all the time. Plus, their looks were distracting, so I was always flustered.

  “I’m actually super graceful,” I protested. “I used to do ballet. I’m so sorry, Julian.”

  “It’s all right.” He grinned, but his pained expression made me feel worse. “I don’t think my jaw is that fragile. I’ll survive. Meanwhile, Damen had something to say to you.”

  Oh, that’s right. I glanced back at him.

  He was rooting through a worn leather bag he had placed on the coffee table. “Do you know anything about your birth parents?”

  “No.” I blushed. “Is something wrong?”

  What if I had an alien aura and I had never noticed? How would one even know something like that? That would be the worst.

  “No.” He stood, holding a tiny jar in his hand. But my attention remained on his serious face. “I’m curious about your lineage. And I’m wondering why Finn would throw such a temper, and why you’d have that kind of reaction. We need to figure it out, because if it’s you…”

  His voice trailed off, and he glanced back at his hand. I didn’t know him well, but I knew that he was angry.

  For a moment, I was dumbstruck. On Finn, anger scared me. But with Damen, it didn’t. Instead of being frightening, Damen appeared imposing and powerful.

  And he was upset on my behalf.

  “... or maybe it’s not,” he continued in a grave tone. “Maybe Finn’s been dabbling in things he shouldn’t. I need to look into this.”

  Damen shook his head, coming out of his contemplative mood. “It’s gone, and nothing permanent was done. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think it was deliberate. The pattern was too erratic.” He was clearly addressing Julian, because this was so over my head. “In the meantime, a soak will clear up any lingering traces and rebalance her. We could go to the hospital afterward for the bruis—”

  “It’s not an option. We need to go,” Julian interjected. “We can’t let him get away with this. If he won’t help, and you won’t, then I’m going to intervene. Damen, tell me you plan on doing something.”

  Damen’s eyebrow twitched, but when he spoke, he sounded calm. “Finn isn’t going to get away with anything. But Bianca’s treatment is her choice. Plus, there’s still the haunting here to deal with. We need to research—plan. Then we can deal with Finn. We need to find out what he’s been up to all this time.”

  “Do you want to go to the hospital?” Damen lifted his gaze and met mine. It was hard to miss the anger—and guilt—in his gaze. “Do you want to press charges?”

  It took a moment for their conversation—his question—to register. But when it did, I gasped and clutched the blanket against my chest. “No!”

  I couldn’t believe that they thought that option was valid.

  “Bianca,” Julian chided. “First of all, you are black and blue. You need to see a doctor and get something for your pain. Secondly, he assaulted you. He hurt you. You should press charges against him. You have every right to do so.”

  “No.”

  I knew that he was speaking from a place of concern—but still. “I can’t go to the hospital. I hate them. You’re enough of a doctor for me, and Tylenol works fine. It’s not a big deal. Anyway, I couldn’t press charges, even if I wanted to—which I don’t.”

  “I’m not even going to get into some of those things you mentioned yet, Bianca. But why can’t you press charges?” Julian sounded sad.

  It made my heart ache, because the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint him. But he didn’t understand.

  I bit my lip so hard that I tasted blood, and goosebumps broke out all over my skin.

  Damen moved behind me, leaning over my shoulder to more fully wrap the blanket around my frame. The action surprised me enough to make me look up, meeting his eyes.

  I wasn’t sure what he saw, but his face grew even more serious.

  “She’s scared,” he told Julian. Damen already knew—had gotten to the bottom of the fear I had been trying to hide.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Run

  How could he do that? How could they take one look at me and bring all my secret fears and hidden thoughts to the surface? All I wanted was to be normal, but Damen and his psychology mojo had a way of breaking through my barriers.

  I couldn’t be a normal friend.

  Julian was calm again, and he rubbed my arm comfortingly. “Why are you scared, Bianca?” he asked. “Do you think Finn will hurt you again? I—we—wouldn’t allow it. Now that we have an idea of what’s been going on, there’s no way he’d get close enough again.”

  I shook my head—that wasn’t it—before glancing at Damen for help. Though it was reassuring to know they were so determined. But there was something else that worried me more than Finn using me as a way to release his anger.

  “She’s afraid that he will tell her parents,” Damen answered Julian. He sat beside us and took one of my shaking hands into his own. “That they’ll make her go back.”

  “Go back where?” Julian looked confused.

  I wanted Julian to know—he deserved to be forewarned about things that might come up later. But I was too drained to go over everything again today. Plus, my body ached.

  I just wanted to pretend that everything was okay, just for a little while.

  “It’s all right, baby girl,” Damen responded, almost as if he knew my internal exhaustion. “If there’s a bathtub here, I was going to order you to take a soak.” He held up the bottle that he’d grabbed earlier. “Use this.” He sounded all professional. “It’ll make sure anything that might still be lingering…isn’t. And it will help soothe the pain somewhat.”

  I tentatively accepted the bottle. “What do you mean? I thought you got everything…You said it was a curse, but what did Finn do exactly?” I was sure he was trying to comfort me, but that ominous statement had done the opposite. “Besides, I can’t take a bath. I have to feed you guys, and put the coffee on. And stuff.”

  Damen and Julian glanced at each other before Damen gave me a resigned look. “I’ll explain the nature of our abilities later. I promise. You should know. But first, you need to not be in pain. And dressed…”

  His gaze drifted toward my chest at his last statement, and I realized that the modest covering had gotten rather low.

  I squealed and jerked the blanket up.

  “Will you stop doing that?” Julian chastised as he moved his thumb in a circular motion on my hip. He frowned at Damen. “Don’t embarrass her. Must you always be so…lascivious? You know—”

  “Whatever, Julian.” Damen threw Julian an annoyed look. “I’ll do what I want. Why don’t you mind your own business?”

  And now I felt sufficiently awkward. This was a topic
that went way beyond me; and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of this argument.

  “I’m sorry.” I moved out of Julian’s lap without incident—they could figure this out for themselves. The last thing that I wanted was to overstep my boundaries, and I wasn’t sure how their dynamics worked. Or even what ours would be like. Finn never had any cutesy nicknames for me. And I never would have sat on his lap.

  This was going to be a learning experience. Having more than one friend—and all of them guys. The only way to make this friendship work was for them to see me as one of the boys.

  I could totally do that.

  I would.

  …But how did a group of boys act?

  I’d have to do some research.

  “Bianca, wait—” Julian looked guilty, and I hated that I made him feel this way. I couldn’t let him dwell on this. I would just have to act as if nothing happened.

  “Sorry.” I held up the jar as I stepped away from them. “I’m going to go bathe with this…stuff. It’s going to be relaxing and great… I think.” I tentatively shook the jar—eyeing the contents. The powder resembled a mixture of Epsom salt and something I couldn’t place.

  I shook it again, and Damen jumped—almost lunging for me.

  I froze.

  So, shaking the bottle was bad—I’d keep that in mind. “What’s wrong with you?” I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious now. “It’s not going to explode in my face, is it? Or cause me to break out in warts?”

  He actually had the nerve to look offended. “Baby girl, do you think that I’d give you something harmful?” Even as he asked the question, his focus remained on the bottle in my hand.

  “I would hope not,” I answered. “That would certainly set our friendship off on the wrong foot.”

  “Don’t shake it.” Damen grinned, looking back at me. “Just go put it in some warm water, and you’ll be fine. Make sure you don’t make it too hot—only lukewarm. And be sure to soak for at least twenty minutes.”

  Bossy, wasn’t he?

  I glanced at Julian. He had already gotten to his feet and was pointedly trying not to look curious. He seemed all right with letting Damen handle the instructions. But he probably also wanted some answers.

  “Don’t worry.” Damen stepped closer to me, whispering in my ear, “If you want, I’ll fill in Julian with what you told us earlier—Titus too. You don’t have to talk about it again. In my opinion, they should know. To understand what Finn is capable of doing—and your parents. Is that all right?”

  “I guess so.” I sighed. I didn’t have much of a choice—it wasn’t as if I could stop him. But it was really a terrible story. “If you think it’s important.”

  “Hey.” Damen moved back slightly and gave me an even look—searching my face. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he must have found it because his mouth dipped before he continued. “It’s not about what I want. It’s what you are comfortable sharing. I’m only suggesting they know because they’d be able to be a better support system if they had the details. But even if they don’t know, they wouldn’t abandon you. We’ve already said that we’re friends, right?”

  My face heated—this whole concept was going to take some getting used to. Heck, it hadn’t even been a day. I needed time to come to terms with everything. But again, Damen was clearly something supernatural himself. I wondered if the others were as well. So why not tell them? They might even understand—at least a little.

  My eyes focused on Damen’s necklace—the symbol still unreadable. “It’s all right if they know. Honestly,” I whispered, and it was true. It didn’t stop the shame, but maybe this was something I needed to do in order to move forward.

  “Do you want to tell them?”

  My pulse spiked at the suggestion. I was a coward, and I was also sore and tired. I couldn’t deal with anything else today. I didn’t want to see their looks of pity when they knew. I was gambling on them being able to relate.

  I shook my head—I didn’t want to be here. If they didn’t understand me—if they weren’t able to relate—I just didn’t want to know.

  “It’s all right if you don’t want to tell them, baby girl.” Damen nudged my chin up with his forefinger, and his eyes captured mine. “I’ll take care of it for you. Just say the word, and you don’t have to worry about it at all. There’s nothing cowardly about relying on others to help you when you feel weak.”

  What was it about him—them—that had me yearning to trust? That made me want to have more out of life? It was almost as if I had finally found a place to belong—with them. It was strange, and way too sudden.

  But still…

  Slowly, I nodded. “Please.”

  I still felt like a loser, despite Damen’s reassurances that this was okay. However, I attempted to follow his directions anyway.

  Take a bath, he had said. Relax. I had lived with anxiety for so long that I wondered if my body would even know what to do in such a state.

  I eyed the jar while I waited for the deep tub to fill, wondering what exactly the bottle held. Damen hadn’t liked it when I shook the contents, so now I was afraid to move it much at all. He said he hadn’t—but would he actually give me something that might explode?

  If I died, I was going to haunt him!

  The doorbell rang, and the telltale sound of footsteps reached my ears. I frowned, knowing it was probably Titus and Miles arriving. Soon, they would all know about my past.

  I wondered how Damen would tell them, or maybe he’d already told Julian. Probably not, though. It made more sense to only tell the story once. On one hand, I wanted to know how Damen was going to handle this issue. On the other, it was for the best that I didn’t. I was sure to overanalyze any kind of reaction.

  Besides, it didn’t matter. Damen had ordered me to relax.

  I turned off the water—the tub almost entirely full—before I poured in Damen’s weird concoction. The smell of lavender immediately overwhelmed my senses, and I watched as the powder dissolved into a shadowy foam.

  Some of my tension fled once I recognized the scent—the likelihood of being killed by a lavender bath was nil. What in the world had he been so worried about? Silly Damen. He must have been trying to scare me.

  I soaked—as per Damen’s instructions—long after the twenty minutes had come and gone.

  I wanted to give Damen time to go over…everything. And also give the boys a chance to either come to terms with it, or leave. But, come to think of it, I hadn’t heard anything for a while—not talking, not the sound of a door closing, and not even the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

  I had been dozing at this point, but my head jerked off of my folded arms in alarm.

  There shouldn’t be complete silence.

  This was not a good sign.

  I had to get out of here. Jumping out of the tub, I wrapped myself in one of the large towels as I rushed toward the bathroom door.

  It was possible—but not likely—that this was all a part of my overactive imagination. Even so, there was a sense of foreboding in the air that couldn’t be denied.

  But agony radiated throughout my hand as I touched the freezing brass doorknob. I couldn’t turn it—I could only cry out, stumbling backward as I cradled my hand against my chest.

  I had screamed—yet there was no sound.

  I tried to shout again, to yell for help. But there was nothing—no noise at all. Terror raced through me. What was happening? Maybe Damen’s bath mixture hadn’t worked and I was dying now—or something?

  The atmosphere began to grow heavy with darkness, and my panic thickened with it. There was something evil taking over this space. Pure evil. I had never felt anything like it before. The closest comparison would have been the sensation that caused the spirit last night to flee.

  And now, in typical fashion, it was here—locked in a bathroom with me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Voice

  My breaths came in short bursts—and the air fr
osted in front of me with every exhale. It was so cold. So terrifying…

  So dark.

  I couldn’t see anything, not even my own hands.

  “What do you want?” I tried to say. But still, there was a silence so profound that I feared I would never be able to hear anything ever again. Terror didn’t have a chance to consume me, though, before a sound—a noise that began so minutely I thought it was my imagination—began to come into focus.

  Low laughter—feminine and sinister.

  “Who’s there?” I asked, and this time, my voice had returned. Although that wasn’t much of a comfort, because now the only noises to be heard were myself and the unknown woman’s cackling. My shaking hands clutched the towel like a lifeline as I desperately tried to see through the dark.

  The baleful laughter grew louder and more grating with every second; and I didn’t understand how—if any of the boys had stayed with me—they couldn’t hear it.

  Or maybe I was imagining this—I had fallen asleep.

  I dismissed that thought the second it occurred. This was real—I knew it.

  Just when I felt I might go crazy, the laughter stopped, leaving that dreadful silence in its wake. At this point, I didn’t know which was worse. But at least I could hear myself: my heart pounding, my short gasps of panicked breath.

  I needed to get out of here. If it hurt, it didn’t matter. I had to leave.

  Stumbling forward, I reached out for where I had known the door to be—but there was nothing. I had gone too far not to have run into it, or anything else. But it was as if all matter no longer existed outside of me, the presence, and this horrifying nightmare.

  Moments that felt like an eternity must have passed. Every second, despair clawed its way deeper into my very being. I felt forgotten—unloved. I was a freak. No one even knew the depths of my despair. I would be alone forever.