A Grim Love: Can't Fight Time (18 page)

Snapping his gaze back to the Castoff guard, Grim finally recognized him. And, as he peered into the faces of the other guards, he knew that his choices were gone.

Almost every guard wearing the Castoff insignia was a Bloodspurn guard. Grim’s nails bit into the flesh of his palms as he balled his fist and choked back his revulsion. Anger would solve nothing in this situation, and it might get him killed.

“Why now, Felicia?” Grim asked, trying to understand her motive. It didn’t make sense that she would attack now after Nina had been in the Underworld for nearly three months. What was the point?

Felicia sauntered closer to him, her short lilac dress looking like it should have belonged on a doll. But then the woman herself looked like a doll, precise makeup, tiny body, and porcelain skin. If not for the deadly look in her eyes, and the dark aura that surrounded her and suffused her clothing, he might have confused her for a living doll.

“Because I wanted it to be now,” she scoffed lightly as she came closer to him. Grim backed away slowly, and like puppets on a string, every one of the guards moved in closer.

“What does your kingdom hope to achieve by starting a war that will drag on and kill hundreds of innocents?” Grim asked as he shifted left and back away, ever aware of the guards and the princess.

Maybe, just maybe, he could make it out of the situation. Hope loomed on the horizon, shining brightly. He could get out, find Nina and his family, and then head to the Darklore kingdom for refuge. But Grim was assuming two big things: firstly, that the Darklore kingdom wasn’t in cahoots with the Castoffs, and secondly, that his family was alright.

Felicia lightly tisked, as if she was correctly a child. “The kingdom?” Felicia's tinkling laugh grated on Grim’s nerves as he continued to inch his way to the fireplace. “Silly Grim, I am the kingdom. I am the law. I am absolute and unquestionable.”

Felicia was suddenly in front of him, and Grim felt his power flare out even as her guards started in on them. But Felicia did something that no one expected, not even her guards.

Twining her hands around his neck, Felicia stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Grim. She forced her tongue into his mouth, forced him to take her. Everything in Grim revolted, and he tore himself away from her like she burned him, but not before she achieved her aim.

Very quickly Grim began to feel cold, to feel sick. Reapers didn’t feel the cold and they never got sick. Those born of humans might feel those things initially, but that was before the shedding. Harsh shudders wracked his body as Grim collapsed on the ground, a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue.

“W-what did y-you do to m-me?” Grim forced out through chattering teeth as he gripped his chest where humans’ hearts were. Pain shot through him, directly to the place where a human heart would be, but nothing jumped in his chest.

Grim was still a reaper, but exuding symptoms of a human who came to the Underworld without a contract. Falling to the ground in a heap, Grim’s body began to shut down, as the shudders became so bad that it felt like someone had set his body to vibrate. It was the most excruciating pain he’d ever experienced, and there was no way to stop it.

Felicia crotched down; her lavender dress rubbed against Grim’s arm and felt like a million tiny needles piercing his skin. “I gave you something to nullify your powers, Grim. Now you have the same power as that sweet, little human.”

Through teary, slitted eyes, Grim watched Felicia stare at him as if he was an exhibit at the zoo. Her chin rested in her cupped hands with her elbows on her bent knees. Then, she smiled at him, a wide, face splitting grin that was all the more terrifying for its sincerity. There was no malice in the smile, no ill will, just pure, unadulterated happiness.

“Do not worry, Grim,” Felicia said as traced a line down his cheek with her index finger. “I will find that human of yours.”

Her nails cut deep into the flesh of his cheek, and Grim bit his tongue to keep from crying out at the agony of it. “Guards!”

Felicia clapped her hands like a giddy child as the guards swarmed on Grim, beating him bloody before restraining him. Pain grew to a crescendo, and Grim wondered how his body could take any more. By then he was fading, losing consciousness, and he knew he’d reached his limit.

***

The waiting was the worse. Perhaps that was a cliché, but it was very true. Waiting meant Nina was able to think, and thinking for Nina was never a good thing. Thinking lead to questioning, questioning to curiosity, and curiosity to a place she could never go: back to Grim.

“Was the weather always this warm?” Nina muttered as her skirt clung to her thighs and sweat formed under her armpits.

She’d been feeling constantly cold, but it was nice. It was like the cold reminded her that she was safe, even though it should have done the opposite. The heat though…

A shiver raced through Nina’s body and made her teeth chatter and ache. Antarctica in the wintertime sounded like heaven right then. Because all the heat did was remind her that, when her father eventually killed her, she’d start smelling fast in this heat.

Waiting was really not good for her.

A rustle of cloth and leaves were the only warnings Nina had before her father erupted from the maze. “Nina,” his voice was soft and kind.

Nina looked at her father, a little taken aback by his appearance. Despite the heat he wore a fashionable long black coat, his hair was slicked back and slightly damp, he looked like he'd just shaved, and he had an air of happiness around him that would have been infectious if she hadn’t known her future.

The man in front of her was the man her father used to be. And she wondered what had inspired the change in him. “Dad,” she returned from her position on the stone bench.

The man in front of her smiled kindly and gestured to the spot beside her. “Mind if I sit?”

So what? Polite conversation and then a knife through the heart?
Nina thought with an internal laugh. She knew her future better than any crystal ball, but the asinine pleasantries surprised her. Whatever her father’s plan, murder seemed to be on the back burner.

“It’s a free country.” Nina shrugged.

Another small smile, before he came and sat by her; “How’ve you been, little boo? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Nina couldn't help but roll her eyes, not giving a thought to her father’s quick temper. If the man had been worried about her, it was because he’d thought she’d gone somewhere he wouldn’t have been able to find. She doubted that the man thought about anything besides the need to kill, and the high he got from it. Murder was just another drug.

Raising her eyes, Nina met her father’s gaze. His eyes were slightly unfocused and dilated. Nina wasn’t surprised that he was on drugs; if anything, it made the entire situation more believable.

Her eyes roamed his face, trying to find any resemblance of the man who had raised her, loved her, and loved her mom. She couldn’t find it. All she saw when she looked at him was a bloody shirt, and a… Nina flinched back and jerked up from the bench.

“What?” Her father asked, his eyes shifting from side to side. “What’s wrong?”

Everything!
her mind screamed at her, as she tried to calm her raging heart. It took a few tries but she was able to force out the answer. “There’s a spot of b-blood right above your eye.”

The need to vomit rode her hard, and Nina covered her mouth as her stomach heaved. But by some mercy she kept her composure, kept her food down, and kept the tears from streaming down her face.

As if in slow motion, her father reached up and wiped his brow, his fingers coming away stained red. The color was brilliant, even in the moonlight, an indisputable crimson that no one would refute was blood.

For a tense second, her father stared at his bloodstained fingers, and then, very casually, he wiped his fingers on his coat. The motion stretched his coat, and revealed a bloodsplattered shirt underneath. “Thought I had cleaned all of that up; sorry about that.” Her father said as if he had had spilled spaghetti sauce and not human blood.

Nina took an involuntary step back and cursed herself. She remembered a time when she’d thought Grim was going to kill her, and she’d gotten in his face and lied her ass off. Where was that woman when she needed her, the one who told off a big, bad Grim Reaper without batting a lash?

“Nina, you don’t have to be scared. I would never hurt you,” her father said, with such compassion and sincerity that she almost believed him; Almost.

“Whose blood is that?” Nina asked, digging her nails into her palm to keep her composure from breaking. The pain kept her strong, kept her sane.

“Ah.” her father blew out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his damp hair. Nina followed the movement like a hawk and nearly screamed bloody murder when his hand came away red.

Nina’s eyes zoomed in on his hair and saw that some pieces were drying, like there was product in his hair.
Or human blood,
her internal voice corrected her. But the usual sarcasm and sass wasn’t there.

“Things happen, Nina. I didn’t kill her at first.” He shook his finger, like he was a teacher teaching her a lesson. “I knew she was your friend, and I spared her for you. But then you didn’t come back. I thought she knew where you were, but after a while I knew she didn’t.”

“You’re talking about Nicole.” Nina’s voice was just above a whisper, her throat constricted with emotion.

“I really didn’t mean to kill her, Nina. You have to believe me!” her father pleaded emphatically, waving his hands wildly, revealing more glimpses of the bloodstained shirt underneath. It was only then that Nina realized he was completely covered in blood, from his black shoes to the white collar of his shirt. The darkness could only hide the man’s transgressions to a point, but the moon clearly illuminated all of them.

“You are not my father.” Nina’s voice shook with fury, shook with sadness and a soul-deep pain. “You are not my family. You are nothing but a murderer.”

Seamlessly and unsurprisingly,  her father’s face contorted into the mask of blind fury. “I have done nothing but love you! And this is how you repay me?” he screamed, face turning a bright red. “You ungrateful little bitch! You can’t look down on me!”

“Down on you?” She laughed. “I’m not looking down on you, I’m looking past you.”

His coat flew open and a glint of silver was her only warning before her father brandished a large
kalapuukko
. “You are mine! Mine!” he ranted, waving the knife wildly around.

Nina stared at the bloodsplattered shirt, her friend’s blood. Nicole had been innocent, she hadn’t done anything. No, she’d just been a casualty in her father’s effort to have her. That had always been his goal, and all the women he’d killed along the way had just been casualties.

This was her life, narrowed down to the sharp point of a knife. This was her death, the end.

In the distance Nina could hear the faint sounds of sirens, and she knew that it was time. In a matter of seconds, she would be dead. A sick smile twisted her lips as she shifted her weight and repositioned her feet.

“I was never yours. I was and will always be my own person,” Nina whispered more to herself than him.

Her father cackled loudly, and Nina heard the sirens getting closer. Watching the knife she waited for her chance. And then, she saw it.

“No, Nina! You. Are. M-
ine,
” her father yelped as Nina lunged for him and drove the knife into her own heart.

Clenching her teeth, Nina forced her body to move and drive the knife deeper. Blood spurted around the wound and ran down the knife to the hilt, dropping off her father’s clenched fist. Panting she reached up weakly, placing her hand over her father’s. “No… my life… is my… own.”

The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on Nina. For the last three months she’d been sure--dead sure-- that her father would kill her. No one had corrected her, and the thought of taking her own life hadn’t even crossed her mind.