Grimm Tidings: Grimm's Circle, Book 6 (3 page)

And there was nothing he’d done that seemed to ease the pain she carried. He didn’t know how he was supposed to do that, but the only thing that would help Celine would be if she could move past that pain.

Fat lot of good I’m doing her…

She became more disconsolate with every passing day. And more angry.

To his dismay, Jacob had found himself becoming all too bothered by the fact. Not because she was his to train—Celine didn’t
need
training. She needed healing, she needed help…and he was fast coming to need
her
. He was in no position to help her. Yet he couldn’t pull away, either.

Abruptly, he said, “We won’t be doing a search tomorrow. You do whatever you want for the next thirty-six hours.”

She didn’t know where Jacob disappeared to, nor did she care.

All Celine cared about was the fact that he’d turned her loose for the next little while. She was going to take those hours and hoard them.

They’d spent the past few days clearing out an area of the city almost thirty miles from the house they used—too damn far away. It took too much time to get back there. She had to waste even more time in the shower, but she had to get the blood off of her. The parasei had been damn easy to kill, but they had bled all over the place—all over
her
.

Showered, changed, then the next thing she did was take the car.

In another two hours, she was back home.

Thirty-eight hours later, Jacob stood in the middle of the house, his hands linked behind his back, his gaze resting on the counter where the keys to the car should be.

They weren’t there.

Celine wasn’t here.

She wasn’t anywhere in the immediate vicinity, because if she was, he would have been able to feel her.

The car was gone, she wasn’t close by, and that told him everything he needed to know.

Sighing, he closed his eyes.

She’d gone back.

Again.

Just as he’d known she would. Those ghosts had been haunting her too much. When she was like that, home would always pull at her.

Until she managed to cut those threads.

Maybe…

“No.” Turning away, he started for the basement. He’d train. He couldn’t wear himself out, but he’d damn well try and then he’d do a search around the city, see where they needed to focus on next.

The medallion at his neck heated.

And he felt his mind drifting back to Celine…and her ghosts.

“I can’t help her.”

His pathetic, cruel talent worked best on those dancing too close to possession. If he showed them what they were already doing, what would become of them, it was often enough to weaken the pull. The strong ones could stop things before it was too late, and sometimes it was even enough for those who weren’t so strong.

But he wouldn’t use it to dredge up old regrets, old ghosts. He’d done that before and it had been a bitter, sad fuck-up. And to use it on Celine and let her see what life would have held for her?

The worthless hunk of metal he wore around his neck grew hotter still and Jacob scowled. “She’s already dancing with madness. How much closer to the edge can she get without going insane?”

Except that made his gut clench with another fear. Instead of how much
closer
, should he worry about how much
longer
? She’d lived on that edge ever since she’d come over. He knew what that walk was like, but he hadn’t had the same bitter, angry regrets that haunted her.

How much longer…

The stretch of road where she’d lost everything looked pretty much the same. The winding, twisting roads up in the Knobs of southern Indiana didn’t look much like a place of death and demonic activity, but that was what she’d stumbled upon years earlier, after that fight with her husband.

She’d needed to be alone. So full of guilt. So full of grief. Desperate to say something to undo the ugly words she’d thrown at him. Desperate to forget the ugly words he’d thrown at her.

She’d gone for a drive, thinking maybe, just maybe she’d find enlightenment or peace.

What she’d found was chaos and pain and death. She should have died. Would have been easier.

Anything was easier than living with these memories.

Anything was easier than
living
.

You stupid bitch. I should have left you in the projects where I found you.

Bastard. Why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone…

Hissing out a breath, she pulled her knife and moved to the tree closest to the edge of the road. The angel wings she’d carved into the bark six months ago were still visible. But the scent of blood was long gone.

So she set about carving the mark deeper into the tree and once she’d gone over it again, she sliced the tip of one finger open—deep. It had to be a deep cut because she healed so fast. It took five slices before she managed to completely paint the wings red.

The air was thick with the smell of her blood when she was done.

It would take a while to fade, which meant any demons in the area would scent it as easily as she did.

They’d scent it. And if they had a brain in their skulls, they’d see her mark and stay clear of this place. They’d look at those wings and figure it out. She’d died here. Nobody else should have to.

Once she’d finished, she turned away and headed toward her car.

There were still several more stops to make.

Jacob stood there staring at the wings, his heart a heavy ache in his chest.

Still following the same pattern.

She wouldn’t stop.

Not until something made her stop. Not until something made her see.

His gut churned as he realized what it might take. Pain twisted his heart and he closed his eyes, muttered, “I can’t do this to her.”

But he already knew he would have to. In truth, he’d been coming to see it for a while. He just hadn’t wanted to accept it.

Knowing where she’d go next, he teleported away.

He couldn’t let her keep hurting like this.

Even though it would involve hurting her
more
to begin with, if it made it easier once he was done, if it let her begin to heal…

The wounds she carried were full of poison. They needed to be purged.

As he appeared behind a man he despised, Jacob unleashed some of the power inside him.

And the man never knew.

Chapter Two

Stupid bitch.

Ugly words.

Celine carried them like a scar on her heart, those final words her husband had ever spoken to her. Ugly, ugly words, but they weren’t responsible for the worst scars.

No, she was responsible for those. The words she flung back at him had been even worse.

Words she could never take back.

Words she could never apologize for.

Words she hadn’t meant.

Words she’d taken to her grave…only she hadn’t stayed dead.

She stood at the edge of the cemetery where a marker had been placed. A marker, but no body. Her husband stood there. Staring down at the grave. Head bowed, hands in his pockets. His hair was getting long again. And a thick streak of white was there, right at his temple. It didn’t make him look old—just made him more striking. But Gavin had always been that. He’d stolen her heart from the very first time she’d seen him. Even now…

“’Til death do us part…” she whispered, her voice husky, eyes locked on his bowed head.

“Death has parted you, Celine.”

She closed her eyes at the sound of her trainer’s voice. Jacob. She’d come here for some private time. Why was he following her
now
?

“Didn’t you say I had some time off?” She continued to stare at Gavin, absently rubbing a hand over her heart. It bumped against the heel of her hand, reminding her that it still beat, that she still breathed, that she still lived.

Death—had it truly parted them? How could it have parted them if she was still
here
?

“I gave you thirty-six hours. It’s going up on forty hours now. And it’s not the hours…it’s how you spend them. You cannot keep this up.” A hand came up, rested on her shoulder. It was warm, so warm, she felt it through the layers of her leather bomber jacket, her sweater, her T-shirt. She shouldn’t feel the cold, she’d been told. But she did. She was always cold. Whether it was July or January, she always felt frozen to the bone. Of course,
this
particular January was more frigid than normal, it seemed, and if it wouldn’t have felt so wrong, she might have moved closer, let Jacob’s warmth seep through her. It
was
wrong, though. Terribly wrong.

“Why are you here, Celine?” Jacob continued to stand there and, as though he sensed her chill, he moved closer. That lean, long body managed to block the wind and the chill and the warmth coming from him managed to penetrate the icy shroud that gripped her.

She hated even feeling a little warmer. Hated any sort of comfort.

Tears pricked her eyes as she continued to stare at Gavin. “Is there a reason why I
can’t
be here? It’s not like I’m needed anywhere at the moment.” She reached up, toying with the medallion she wore.

She’d made a mistake, accepting it. She’d thought the second chance she was offered would be a second chance with
Gavin
—a chance to undo the harm she’d done that night. A chance to take back words she hadn’t meant. A chance for
them
. A chance for them to fix what they’d done, what they’d said.

She hadn’t realized it would entail her living a life without him…a very long life without him. Watching him age. Watching him mourn. And sooner or later, she’d watch him die.

“You choose to watch him mourn. And you don’t have to watch him die. Leave him to his life.” His thumb stroked against her neck. “You can leave this behind. Let him go.”

Swearing, she pulled back from Jacob and moved away, crossed her arms over her chest. It didn’t do anything to dispel the cold inside, or the ache. “Stay out of my head.”

“I’m not in your head, sweet. You broadcast your thoughts too randomly.” Jacob shrugged, looking unconcerned.
 

The wind kicked up, blowing her hair into her face. She caught it in her hand, holding it back. Jacob stared at her with an unblinking, gunmetal gray stare. “You cannot keep this up,” he said quietly. “You need to let him go.”

“I
can’t
.” She advanced on her trainer until she was close enough to jab at him. Why couldn’t he get it? Damn it, the rest of them had eventually gotten it through their heads and given up on her.

Jacob, though, he’d stuck it out with her for nearly nine months and he didn’t seem to show any sign of losing patience. He just showed signs of not
getting
it. Any of it. Jabbing him in the chest, she spat again, “I
can’t
. Don’t you think if it was just that easy, I’d
let
it go?”

“I don’t know…would you?” He reached up and closed his hand over her wrist. He held her tight, but carefully, his thumb resting just over her pulse. “Could you let go of that guilt? That anger, that rage? Of
him
?”

Sneering at him, she jerked against his hold. Not that it did much good. He didn’t budge. “You think I
like
hurting like this? That I
like
seeing him so miserable?” She shifted her gaze back to Gavin. He couldn’t see them—at least, he couldn’t see
her
unless she willed it, and she assumed Jacob had pulled that nifty little cloaking deal, as well. “He needs me, Jacob. He…”

She stopped, shaking her head. Neither of them had been able to move on. Neither of them. He’d buried an empty box and he spent three days a week at an equally empty grave. She wasn’t dead, but she wasn’t exactly
alive
anymore, either, and she couldn’t let him go.

None of this should have happened.

“Celine…” He reached up with his free hand and cupped her cheek. “Has it ever occurred to you that part of why he visits here so often is because he
feels
you? Why he still clings to his grief is because he senses
you
? How can he let you go when you’re right here? Waiting for him?”

She stiffened and jerked away.

“He doesn’t know I’m here. I’m careful.” She swallowed. “I’m careful.”

Although there had been times when she’d been tempted…so tempted. They didn’t need to know that, though. Because she
had
been tempted. Many, many times. From the corner of her eye, she saw the look on Jacob’s face. And she knew
he
knew. He
knew
, damn it.

“You’re careful, yes. And I know you haven’t let him see you, no matter how much you want to.” Then he sighed, his thumb lightly brushing over her lower lip. “But, Celine…no matter how much you hide yourself from his
sight
, you can’t stop him from
feeling
you. And he does.”

She jerked away. “No.”