Locked in Silence: Grimm's Circle, Book 5 (20 page)

Perci stood behind her, her mouth gaping open.

“What in the hell…?”

“Young Finn can teleport,” Sina said quietly. “He’s a bit of a handful, as much a handful in this life as he was in his mortal life—he plays with fire, he teleports and he likes to shoot demons. Such a pain in the ass, that one.”

“Shooting them works as well as anything else.” Jack pushed past them, crouching down to study the floor. “Lucky little punk—if he’d burned up my floors, I would have kicked his ass.”

“He only burns what he wants to burn,” Sina said, still smiling.

Perci turned suspicious eyes on her. “You know, for somebody who was yelling at him to be quiet, you look awfully pleased.”

“Well,
I
couldn’t share the knowledge with her. But if it came from another source…” Sina shrugged. “I didn’t see the problems arising if Finn told her. But Finn never reacted well when he was asked to do something. He always did so much better when he thought he was forbidden.”

“You wanted him to tell her.” Jack stood up, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes.” Sina smiled. It was a lovely, frightening smile. She turned around and strode to the door. “You two lovebirds have a wonderful day.”

She opened the door and strode through.

Perci ran to the door and jerked it open, a thousand questions still on her tongue.

But when she looked out, Sina was gone.

Vanya was going to be sick—

The moment solid ground was under her feet, she hit her knees and started to retch.

Finn touched her shoulder. “Sorry about that. I don’t travel with others often and I’ve never figured out how to make the trip easy on them.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” she muttered, shooting him a dirty look. She rubbed the back of her neck, thought about saying something else, thought about hitting him, or…something. But then she noticed they weren’t alone.

Will stood before them, his arms crossed over his chest, a grim look on his ageless face.

And just beyond him, on a wide, luxurious bed, lay Silence.

Although she couldn’t see his face, she knew it was him. That hair, that body—she’d know it anywhere.

Despite the lurching in her gut, she shoved to her feet and started toward him. As she passed by Will, he caught her arm. She reacted by hauling off and punching him.

His head jerked back, blood fountaining from his pocket.

“Feel better?” he asked, tugging a handkerchief from his pocket.

“Hey!”

Hearing a woman’s voice, she turned her head, watched a slim brunette come striding toward her. Green eyes narrowed, furious, her face contorted in a scowl, the woman looked pissed.

Good—Vanya still had some rage to burn.

“Mandy, take Finn outside if you would,” Will said levelly—his voice somewhat distorted.

“Like hell,” she snapped.

“Now.” He bit the word off, shooting her a dark look.

Finn smiled and pushed between them. “Mandy, is it? Darling, if you would be so kind, I’ve already had Vanya pin my ears back today—and I’m not looking forward to what she has to tell Will here. I don’t think you want to listen, either…”

Vanya tuned them out, glaring at Will as they left. “Why didn’t you
tell
me?”

“Why didn’t you
ask
?” he replied. “Did you really think he’d leave you all on your own?”

“I wasn’t alone! I had Finn with me—I thought Silence had sent him after me!” Then, abruptly, she stopped and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Moving around Will, she edged closer to the bed, bracing herself for what she might find. What she might see.

Her breath escaped her in a rush as she sank down on the edge of the bed. “He…he looks fine…but Finn said he’s fading…”

“Silence is strong—physically. He took a grievous injury, but he heals even faster than most.” Will stared at the still man on the bed. “He fades because he wishes to. Perhaps you can make him decide otherwise.”

She was only barely aware of his departure, too focused on Silence’s still face. Reaching out, she touched his arm.

Softly, her voice hesitant, she started to talk. Her voice trembled, but then steadied.

Sina said he’d learned that he was better off alone? She was about to show him otherwise.

The darkness had grown quiet, so quiet and complete.

When he first heard her voice, he didn’t trust it.

A dream, perhaps.

Or the fitful longings of his own foolish heart.

Despite himself, though, he found himself listening. As he listened, her voice grew louder. As he listened, he found it harder to pull away.

Was she truly there…?

Hands touched him.

In the darkness, he should have hated it.

But they were her hands, stroked through his hair, taking a cloth and running it along his face, his chest. Her hands, linked with his. And her body—pressed next to his.

Silence suspected he dreamed, though. He wanted to call out to her, but if he did, and there was no answer, he knew it would shatter him. He’d chased her away, and he had no reason to hope that she’d come back now. Why would she be here?

So he clung to the dream…because it was safer. He clung to the dream because at least there he didn’t have to be alone or worry that he’d wake and find her gone.

Two days and two nights passed.

Vanya talked until she was sick of the sound of her voice, until she only
wished
she could talk herself hoarse.

Thanks to the healing properties her body now possessed, though, that was almost impossible.

As twilight crept closer on the third night, she lay beside him, twining her hands through his hair, her heart heavy, she said quietly, “You asked me to come back. I’m right here, Silence. Right here. So where are you?”

Exhaustion wrapped around her, claimed her. But even in her sleep, she held him close.

I’m right here
.

He felt her.

Her body was warm and soft, pressed against his.

That wasn’t a dream, surely.

He didn’t want to reach out, find her gone. Didn’t want to speak and not be heard.

But the desolation in her voice made his heart ache.

Battling against the fatigue and the darkness, he forced himself to speak. It was hard, though—so hard. “
Vanya.”

He felt her stir. Felt her hand drift up to rest over his heart. And she sighed.

But she didn’t speak.

He’d have to try harder…

He woke in darkness.

It was so thick and complete, for a moment, he barely realized he
had
woken.

But then he felt a soft puff of air against his chest.

With an arm that felt heavy and stiff, he shifted and reached down…and found Vanya curled around him, her head pillowed on his chest, one hand fisted just above his heart.

Sleeping.

You came back…

He closed his eyes, shaken. For a moment, he could do nothing but simply lie there and hold her as he let himself acknowledge that she was there. That she was with him. That she had come back.

Then, because the muddle of his mind was driving him mad, he forced himself to open his eyes, to look around.

Where was he?

There was something familiar…his eyes adjusted and immediately, he knew where he was. Will’s cabin. Right after that, he remembered. The club. The ambush—how had they fallen for that?

Arrogance. Plain and simple. Both he and Will were both old and arrogant, convinced they could handle anything placed before them. And they’d been horribly wrong. They hadn’t planned well enough, hadn’t thought to look over their environment well enough before they made their attack, and they had underestimated their enemy—it hadn’t just been the succubae lying in wait but orin as well.

In short, they’d fucked themselves.

He’d gone down. He remembered that now, remembered tasting his own blood in his throat, remembered even the look on Will’s face as the other Grimm called up a power he rarely used and wiped the room clear of anything that breathed, save for Silence.

And Silence hadn’t had much breath or life left in him.

Then he used another gift, the one he had for healing, holding Silence to life for so long it had damned near drained Will as well.

You won’t die, damn it,
Will had told him.
Not now
—

Silence had wondered if maybe it wasn’t for the best.

Now he closed his eyes and buried his face in Vanya’s curls. Either he’d almost made a terrible mistake or he was going to hate Will for holding him to life long enough for his body to heal the damage.

Silence didn’t know which one.

Why was she here?

He stroked a hand up her narrow back and asked himself if it really mattered. Part of him didn’t care. The other part, the part that desperately needed her to be there for him, because she needed him as he had come to need her, knew it mattered.

But she’s already told you she loves you
.

And yet he didn’t know if she’d meant it…

That
was what he needed to know.

First, before all else, he had to know that.

Setting his jaw, he eased out of the bed. He wore no clothes. Frowning, he glanced around for something to wear. He imagined what he had been wearing had been destroyed—bloodied and ruined.

He spied something thrown over a chair by the fireplace and he snagged it. A worn pair of loose cotton trousers. They were long enough, although he had to tie the drawstring tightly to keep them from sagging down over his arse. There was nothing else unless he wanted to raid Will’s monochromatic wardrobe of white—and he had a few inches on Will, both in height and width. There was also a closet that held a female’s wardrobe—certainly not an option.

The cabin, although clearly occupied, was empty now. Save for him and Vanya, who slept on deeply.

Closing his eyes, Silence waited by the fire.

When she woke, he’d have to decide.

Either he reached for what she’d offered…or he turned away from it.

He thought back over the past few centuries—thought of the loneliness, the emptiness.

He thought back farther. To his mother and father. To the man they’d allowed to take him. To the years he’d spent on his own…and then Louis and his mistress, the woman he’d one day take to wife, the sweet Françoise. She, more than Louis, had been his first true friend. He’d spent all these centuries hating Louis’ treachery and not thinking of how she’d tried to stop the other man, how she’d tried to save the poor, mute boy he’d been.

Louis, the fool, had thought to use Silence for his own ends—in endless wars, in political intrigues. Françoise had seen the wrongness of it. Instead of focusing on Louis’ wrongs, Silence should have made himself think on what she’d risked, how she’d save his life, even that first day, how she’d befriended him.

But because he’d been hoping to find another friend in Louis, and when Louis had instead tried to use him, Silence had withdrawn. Spent all these years alone.

It wasn’t how he wanted to spend the next three centuries, not even the next three decades—not even three
months
.

Not when he could spend them with Vanya.

There was a sigh behind him. Followed by a sudden cry.

He turned around just as she sat up, her hand resting on the spot where he had lain only moments earlier. Her eyes searched the room, and when they came to rest on him, it hit him like a fist to realize there were tears there. She would cry…for him.

After he’d all but rejected the love she had offered him.

She pressed her lips together, dipped her head. When she looked back at him, the tears were gone and her face was composed. “You’re awake.”

He started to answer but stopped himself. Instead, he just nodded.

She shifted around, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “You feeling okay?”

No—I hurt, I ache for you.
But he didn’t tell her that. Not yet. Why had she come? He needed to know that—needed to know if she had come for
him
…or out of some sense of duty.

Slowly, his hands feeling so clumsy and unsure, he signed,
Why are you here
?

Vanya looked away. A strange, bitter smile twisted her lips. “I was told you needed me. Apparently all you needed was your beauty sleep, though. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Frowning, he watched as she slid out of the bed, straightened clothes that were hopelessly wrinkled. She was careful never to look at him, never to so much as glance his way and how could he speak to her if she wouldn’t look at him?

She started toward the door. Frustrated, he blocked her way. She still wouldn’t look at him, staring at the floor, staring past his shoulder, anywhere but at him.
“If you came here for me, then why are you in such a hurry to leave?”

She shot him a quick look, but so quick, like she didn’t dare connect with his eyes. “You’re awake. You’re fine, obviously. And I’d left before—you weren’t in any hurry to come after me before. We’ll just carry on. As you were, you know.” She smirked as she said it, but he caught the unsteady waver in her voice.

Stop being a coward,
he told himself. As she went to go around him, he caught her arm. She jerked against him, but he didn’t let go. Instead he turned, crowding her up against the door, bracing his arms on either side of her.
“Look at me,”
he ordered, lowering his face until it was on level with hers.
“Look at me, Vanya…please, love…”

Her breath hitched in her throat. Her lashes lowered over her eyes.

But she didn’t look at him.

Sighing, he dipped his head, skimmed his lips along her neck. Her scent called to him, the same way her voice did, the same way her heart did. Pressing his mouth to the curve between her neck and shoulders, he told her,
“I was coming after you. I didn’t know what I was going to do when I found you, but I wasn’t just going to let you walk away, and I wasn’t going to let things become some simple student-teacher thing between us. We both know it’s far more than that.”

She turned her head away. “Yeah, I’m the student who drops her pants the minute you look at her. I can see why you don’t want to let that go,” she muttered. “Too bad. I’m done with this—”