Wish Bound (A Grimm Agency Novel Book 3)

by J. C. Nelson

  I believed there was good in almost everyone, but in the case of Ari’s stepmother, the only way I figured that good would ever come out was with the help of an organ-harvesting team. And in Gwendolyn’s case, her heart was so black, it would probably be shipped straight to a coal-fired power plant. I tugged the grounding strap at my wrist tight and patted her shoulder. “I know. I hardly think this is a coincidence. Isolde makes her move, the old High Queen dies, and now Gwendolyn has a shot at High Queen. Wasn’t that why she teamed up with Fairy Godmother a few years ago?”

  If Ari’s smile could power the entire Agency building, her anger could electrocute every death row inmate in the country. She set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. “When I see Gwendolyn, I’m going to do more than just pull a few hairs from her head.”

  “Your sisters are acting as her handmaidens.” Ari had already dealt with enough, but I figured better to go ahead and get everything out in the open. “Stephanie and Rachel. You probably don’t want to involve them.”

  At her sisters’ names, Ari bit back a sob. “Steph I believe. Rachel would never get mixed up in something like this. What happened to Sirena?”

  Ari had so many sisters I’d never bothered learning all the names. Red hair, blue eyes, and bad attitude, that was how I recognized a Thromson. “Feel like a family visit? They need to know what they’re getting into. If something happens to Gwendolyn, I’d guess it won’t be pretty for them.”

  Ari shook her head. “None of them called after Gwendolyn banished me. No email. No texts. They’ve made their choices, and I’ve made mine.”

  I wanted to protest, to argue, and tell Ari that family shouldn’t be given up so easily, but Grimm didn’t give me a chance. “Marissa, we should have you try on your uniform. I had the sword retrieved from Mr. Stone’s forge, and time is short.”

  “But I didn’t learn how to use it. All I got were bruises.” The only thing I’d learned from my lesson was to keep my mouth shut when I fell, because while mildew might be related to bleu cheese, it wasn’t nearly as tasty.

  Grimm ignored my comment completely. “I’m certain the essence of your lessons came through. Go to wardrobe. I’ve ordered your clothing laid out for you, my dear.”

  When I emerged from our dressing room, I looked like a Navy SEAL crossed with an undertaker. The cloth itself weighed me down, not quite stiff or flexible. The dozens of loops, pockets, and belts left me confused.

  I stuck a thumb in one of the loops. “What exactly were all of these for?”

  Grimm pointed to different points on my outfit as he spoke. “Poison, daggers, scrying crystals, and the other usual equipment for handmaidens. I had this custom made for an agent. One day, I’m going to sell the secret of the fiber construction to the military for a pretty penny.” Grimm looked over at Liam. “Would you mind stabbing Marissa through the heart?”

  Liam scrunched up his face for a moment, like he did when I caught him ignoring me, and he was trying to figure out if I really asked him to crush a testicle. “No.”

  “Excellent. I need to illustrate to Marissa the protective nature of her uniform. While many in Kingdom may wish to harm her, it will take more than bullets or blades to do so.” Grimm tilted his head toward me. “Now stab her, right through the heart.”

  Liam stood up, shaking his head. “No. I said no. I’m not going to try to stab Marissa through the heart, and for that matter, I’m going with her when she goes to meet the Black Queen. The doorman said they burned Isolde once. I’m betting a dragon can do it again.”

  I’d never heard Liam’s tone set like that, so determined, so almost angry.

  “You must not, sir. You have no idea what she might do to you.” Grimm folded his arms across his chest, pacing back and forth. “The curse within you leaves you more susceptible to her power. Unless you’d like to willingly serve her.”

  Liam approached Grimm’s mirror, as though the Fairy Godfather could be cowed like a school-yard bully. “The only way I’ll be serving her is on a plate, to Mikey and his poker gang.”

  “Sir, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to show you something in my office. Marissa, I’ll need you as well.” Grimm faded out.

  I wrapped my arms around Liam’s waist, pressing myself to his back.

  He spun and picked me up, wrapping his arms around me. “I can’t lose you.” Only then did I hear the fear he’d masked with anger.

  “Grimm will think of something. Come on.” After disentangling the three loops that had caught on Liam’s belt buckle, we walked to Grimm’s office, where he waited in his mirror.

  “Thank you for your patience. Mr. Stone, I’d like to educate you on why avoiding exposure to the Black Queen is essential.” Grimm looked over to me. “Row twenty-three, column five, Marissa.”

  A location on the armory wall, the wall that made up the entire east side of Grimm’s office, composed entirely of boxes in various sizes. Some contained bullets that could kill anything, some chamomile tea. I counted off the boxes, and slid a shoe-box-sized chest from the wall, carrying it back to Grimm’s desk.

  “Go ahead, open it.” Grimm watched Liam, not me, as I slipped it open.

  Inside, like an old friend tied up in the back of a van and left to die, sat a gleaming hunk of steel. I recognized it, and anxiety rippled from my spine down to my fingertips. A silver-plated nine-millimeter pistol Grimm chose for me when I first came to work for him. Nothing like the gunmetal-blue one I carried these days.

  That gun had been a friend when I had none, my weapon of choice for nearly seven years, perfectly balanced for me, tuned by a gunsmith to fit my hand exactly.

  Liam reached over and picked it up. “I thought this was lost.”

  So did I. I’d taken it with me through the mirror, when I picked a fight with a fairy and killed her. I’d hoped it was lost, because just seeing it made me ill.

  Grimm’s gaze dropped to my trembling hands. I’m sure the sweat on my face gave away the feelings I sought to hide. He glanced back to me. “I found it while cleaning up after one of Arianna’s training accidents. Marissa, would you mind taking that from Mr. Stone?”

  I closed my eyes and reached out, but touching that steel made me almost retch. I clenched it in my fist, willing my fingers closed, and opened my eyes, triumphant.

  Grimm spoke past me, to Liam. “I believe the words Fairy Godmother said were ‘You don’t like that gun.’”

  And the truth was, four years later, I still didn’t.

  “You want to throw it away.” Grimm repeated words I’d never told him. Words I’d never told anyone but gave voice to the ache in my arm. “You need to throw it.”

  I don’t remember my arm moving. Just the crash of metal hitting the armory wall, and then throwing myself at Liam like a frightened child. Four years later, Fairy Godmother’s words still held sway over me. “I thought that spell ended when Fairy Godmother died.”

  Grimm’s voice came from behind Liam as he stroked my head. “It wasn’t a spell. I told you, a fairy can change your nature. Change your desires, and decisions. Mr. Stone, while my daughter is not a full fairy, I assure you, she would wield a similar power over that curse.”

  I pushed away from Liam, not liking the implications. “You said that only applied in a fairy’s home realm. I went through the mirror to Godmother.”

  “What I said was the person who returned would be only what she made them. And, my dear, has it not occurred to you yet? Isolde was born on Earth. You are in my daughter’s realm.”

  “And Isolde has Fairy Godmother’s power.” If I screamed inside, it would have echoed in my hollow mind. The forces aligned against me held every advantage.

  “Perhaps. But I doubt she understands it, and given that mastering my own abilities took more than one eternity, I question her skill at using it. The point is that exposing Liam to the Black Queen would be sheer folly.” He spoke to me, l
ooked at Liam. “My daughter cannot change people at a whim. She would whisper, each time bending you ever so slightly. When one day you woke up and decided to offer her your allegiance, it wouldn’t be a change. Just the acceptance of something natural.”

  The idea of the Black Queen worming her way down into Liam’s brain made me ill and angry at the same time. “I’ll go alone.” If I’d known what effect those words would have, what would happen, I’d never have spoken. As the words left my mouth, I doubled over as if punched.

  I tried to speak, but gasps were the only noise I could make. Liam caught me as I fell, lifting me like a sack of flower, his eyes lit up with hellfire. “What’s happening to her?”

  “Mr. Stone, I must get her into Kingdom immediately. She’s being summoned. The farther a handmaiden from her queen, the more powerful the summons is. Take her to the portal.” Grimm disappeared, leaving Liam to practically sprint through the halls, plowing over Mikey and sending Ari flying back into the kitchen.

  The cold stone of Grimm’s portal slab touched the back of my neck, and then the world split into rainbows. Like traveling through a kaleidoscope on LSD, the light wrapped around me, and when it folded back like a flower petal, I fell six feet to the ground.

  Thank Kingdom a pack of singing rabbits chose that corner to begin an impromptu serenade. Without them to break my fall, I might have crushed my neck instead of theirs. And here, in Kingdom, I could actually stand up. A ravenous hunger filled my gut, but at least I didn’t have to imitate a troll’s punching bag.

  I rose, wiping rabbit fur from my clothes, and caught my breath.

  “Head to the fountain, my dear.” Grimm took on the same tone he used when coaching me through an ogre’s den. I’d learned to pay attention, because my life might depend on it.

  The fountain, a giant, round, wishing-well-like contraption, stood before the main palace. A few years earlier, when they built a new castle to consolidate the government, they left the old one and moved the fountain.

  I walked to the edge, looking down into dirty water filled with coins, beer can tabs, and broken glass.

  “Place your hand on the side of the fountain and walk counterclockwise.” Grimm shimmered in the water, watching me.

  The rough granite skipped under my hand as I walked, tracing the stone like high-speed braille. All the way around I walked, and as I came back, my heart skipped a beat. The stone beneath my fingers turned cold, ice-cold, and when I glanced into the water, the koi had teeth.

  Forcing myself to look up, I saw the castle, as cold and impervious as always, but cast in shadow. Low Kingdom, where evil and darkness held sway.

  And I heard her voice.

  Clear, distant, like a song and a shriek, calling me. The longer I listened to the sound, the more melodic it became, and the less the crowds of creatures bothered me. A pity I wasn’t dressed for normal work. In Low Kingdom, my black business suits made more than style sense. I fit right in with the crowd, wandering through streets packed with goblins, past the shadow of a troll whose bridge collapsed.

  I knew where I’d wind up long before my feet led me there.

  The old castle.

  The original one, built Grimm only knew how many hundreds of years ago. I wandered across the bridge, walking right up to the gate troll.

  A hulking, heavy creature, he bent far over to snort at me and show yellow teeth the size of soap bars. Judging from his stench, a bar of soap the size of a minivan couldn’t have cleaned him up. “No pass.”

  I held up my hand, showing the handmaiden’s mark.

  The troll knelt down, bowing his head, then rose and placed knobby fingers on the doors, hauling them open despite the corrosion.

  With the voice of the Black Queen calling me, I found my way through the labyrinthine hallways in record time, emerging at the main banquet hall to find torches lit everywhere.

  “I’m here.” My voice quavered more than I wanted, my courage quelled by the fact that I’d walked into the den of darkness alone. If Grimm could hear, he didn’t speak.

  The ranks of dark warriors standing before me didn’t turn to look. Instead, they kept their eyes fixed forward. I slid between them, working my way to the front to see. And nearly screamed.

  The Black Queen stood at the front, dressed in a black dress like thistledown that shimmered purple in the torchlight. Her face held that unearthly beauty that kept my eyes locked on her; her eyes were covered in enough eye shadow to make up a circus.

  Before her knelt a woman, dressed in gray, with a black sword across her back. Her golden hair cascaded down her back, getting tangled in the woven leather sheath, no doubt.

  “Rise, handmaiden,” said the Black Queen, and took the woman’s hand. The Black Queen looked over to me, a faint smile playing across her lips.

  The woman dropped her hand, and a fleck of blood dripped from it where she’d received the handmaiden’s mark.

  Isolde gestured to me, a smooth swipe of her hand that seemed to both draw attention to me and dismiss me at once. “Kyra, meet Marissa. Marissa is my other handmaiden.”

  Kyra turned toward me, and this time, to my credit, I held in the shock. “You.” Yeah, I should’ve had something better to say. I just didn’t expect to know this woman. I spent an entire New Year’s Eve chasing her once, after she boosted a pair of magic slippers with a serious security system on them.

  She knew me too, her lips pulling back in a grimace. “Me.”

  I looked over to Isolde, willing myself to not be sucked in by her beauty, forcing myself to focus on her eyes. “What is she doing here? Don’t you already have me?”

  Isolde swept down the stairs to stand before me, radiating menace and anger. “She came willingly. Prepared. Eager, and asked that she be allowed to serve in return for a favor. How could I refuse her? Why would I refuse her?”

  Death told me once that he waited to introduce himself when the Black Queen chose handmaidens. Waited until only one remained. The history books I’d read said Isolde took on dozens of handmaidens during her rise to power. When the time came for her to conquer a new nation, she forced her handmaidens to fight it out among themselves. Only the strongest, the most violent and cruel, would survive to lead her army. She allowed nothing less.

  I thought of myself as bitterly honest, not cruel. Strong? That was a matter of more than muscle. Strength could be the courage to face a shaman gone insane from exposure to nature’s raw power. Strength could be forcing myself to fulfill my debt to Grimm despite my family abandoning me.

  I was strong. And ever since I’d agreed to serve Isolde, a desire for violence crawled into my dreams and thoughts, ready to turn every disagreement into a bloodbath. Maybe Isolde underestimated me.

  I looked at Kyra, seeing in her blue eyes acceptance, knowledge, even eagerness. “You know what happens now?” I put one hand to my sword, the other into my jacket, reaching for my gun.

  “No.” Isolde stepped between us, her words like a glacier, freezing me in place. “I decide when the culling occurs. I set the terms, I choose the conditions. Until I give you leave, you will treat each other with grace and respect.” Her gaze locked to Kyra. “Kyra, what would you have of me in return for your service?”

  Kyra’s mouth opened and shut, and she wouldn’t meet the Black Queen’s gaze. “May I have time to consider my request? I—I don’t wish to waste your power.”

  Isolde smiled, reminding me more of a shark. Then she turned and ascended back to her throne, a garish black wooden chair that would have hurt to sit in for fifteen minutes, let alone all day. “Of course. Whatever you ask for, I will give you. You have my blessing, and leave to arrange your affairs.”

  We waited while she left. Then I stood in silence. Behind me, the army of warriors stood like statues, not breathing or moving.

  “So what now? You said I had until the new moon.” I didn’t move toward h
er, but I refused to look away.

  Isolde flicked her hand, and her clothes melted across her, taking on a more formfitting shape, with pant legs. “I never specified which moon. You would think, given your history with contracts, you would understand the concept of fine print. Come, handmaiden.” She turned on her heel and walked down a hall, leaving her army. “Do you understand why I chose you?”

  “Fear.” I glanced her way, biting my lip to keep her beauty from mesmerizing me. “Fear of Grimm. You needed something to use against him, to keep him from repeating the last time he put you in time-out.” My words might have been brave. The reality was I nearly fell to my knees under her stare.

  She lashed out, striking me across the face so fast her hand blurred. “I fear no one and nothing. You have no idea why I wanted you. Perhaps you should ask my father.”

  I spat blood out, barely missing her dress. “I’ll do that next time I see him.”

  I saw her hand move. I just couldn’t quite react fast enough to stop her from seizing me by the jaw and twisting my head. She held up her other hand, the nails turned black, pointed. I’d seen them like that once before, when her arm was a tangled knot of bone and root called the Root of Lies. “Are you familiar with how these thorns work, handmaiden?”

  I was. They grew toward any lie, tearing it from the heart of the liar. “I know. I’m not afraid, because I tell the truth.”

  She held up one finger, tracing a path down my chin, between my breasts, where she stopped. My heart raced with adrenaline, waiting for her to finally kill me. And the thorns grew, cutting into my breast, forcing between my ribs, teasing a shriek of pain from my lips.

  I fell to one knee, a trickle of blood soaking my bra.

  She knelt, taking my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Now you may ask my father anything. The thorns inside will wait.”