Page 46 of Looking Grimm

“Yeah, right.” Ezrah snorted, feigning nonchalance despite the sheen of sweat on his face. “You wouldn’t wreck your own fuckin’ car.”

I nodded. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. But this is my brother’s car.” I slapped my palm against the dash. “And he doesn’t need it anymore.”

Ethan bellowed from outside, though he must have been spitting mouthfuls of grass. My hands wrenched around on the wheel, knuckles stretching the skin.

“You’re insane!” Ezrah shouted.

“Yes, and?” I snapped back at him. “Let’s treat this like an improv session. Keep the conversation going.”

Wind whooshed in my ears and chapped my cheeks as I strained to see across the field as the headlights beamed into the growing darkness. The tree loomed ahead, a massive, bare-branched monster that would put a hell of a dent in the Bronco’s front end. And Ethan Everett’s body.

Ezrah squirmed in his seat. After a brief struggle, his shoulders slumped, and his face fell. “Look, just, just get it over with already,” he said. “It’s been days. Put us out of ourmisery.”

“Maybe I will,” I replied. “Or maybe I’ll seize the next four minutes and make it fucking hurt. First, you can watch your brother die, then we’ll drive around with his corpse as a goddamn hood ornament while I break you into pieces.”

He was tense and trembling. With rage or fear, it didn’t matter. His lips peeled back in a snarl as he said, “You’re a bastard.”

“Yes, and?” I repeated. “Come on, dickwad. Gimme something to work with.”

He knew what I wanted and keeping his boss’s secrets couldn’t be worth all this. I should have told him Grimm didn’t care about him. The gang wouldn’t be bothered to send help or stage a rescue. They were a cruel, heartless bunch and, as we tore through the field with Ethan’s legs kicking the air at the end of the car hood, I realized I was more like them than I ever meant to be.

I’d gone quiet, and Ethan had given up wailing, so Ezrah’s voice warred only with the wind as he asked, “What are you gonna do to Grimm if you find him?”

I chewed my lip, craving a cigarette or the rest of the whiskey Ripley had dumped out. “You said it yourself: I’m a killer.” My tattooed fingers ached as they ratcheted down on the steering wheel. “So, I’ll kill him. But I’m gonna make him wish he’d killed me first.”

He deserved the regrets that plagued me. My guilt and shame should have been his to bear. All the bullshit and baggage Ripley thought I should heap on Nash belonged at Grimm’s feet. Or on his head. Heavy enough to crush him.

I turned back toward the sprawling oak in the near distance. The sight of its broad trunk spurred Ezrah to speak.

“He’s staying at the Orchid. With the madam.”

The confession struck me like a slap in the face. I was being sent back to where I started, where I left Charlie’s body as a message I had hoped Grimm would receive. Little wonder he didn’t miss it dumped at his front door.

“Of course, he is.” I had the information I wanted, but I didn’t slow down. Didn’t steer away. We careened toward the tree trunk at highway speed, and I never moved my foot off the gas.

“If you hit it going this fast, you’ll kill us all!” Ezrah yelped, writhing against his bonds.

Would that be so bad? He wanted me to end their misery. I’d been miserable for half my life.

He cursed me again, shrinking in his seat and away from the tree as it drew impossibly close. Ethan’s shrieks began anew as he was faced with the inevitable.

I had fleeting seconds to decide whether to swerve away, and I wasted them thinking about facing Grimm and getting revenge. For Donovan. For myself. I thought about wanting to die because everyone did. That was how my story would end. It was the only way I would get to truly go home.

I meant to hit the tree. Some part of me needed to. But with no time to spare, I remembered Nash waiting for me to come back, loving me in spite of everything, and I jerked hard on the wheel. The Bronco veered, shuddering and tilting as the tires skipped across the grass.

And then the world exploded.

I came to slumped against the steering wheel. My face and chest ached, and my right eye was gummed closed. Rubbing at it found my forehead sticky with blood from a gash that shot pain through my skull when my fingers brushed across it.

Hissing a breath, I tugged up the hem of my shirt and daubed at my face until I could see more clearly.

The headlights beamed into the darkness ahead, showing swaying grass and a blue-black sky. It was almost serene, far different from the carnage in the car beside me. We’d hit the tree on the passenger side, caving in the door and crushing Ezrah’s bound body. The glass was broken and spiderwebbed from a splotch of blood where his head must have cracked it.

Ethan remained strapped to the hood, twitching. I could have let him live. Could have dumped him here and let him find his own way home. But survival was sometimes crueler than death, so I sent out a probing thought that sunk into his spine and severed it. He fell deathly still.

That bit of magic added a new beat to my thundering headache, and I grimaced.

This was a hell of a way to learn that the Bronco didn’t have airbags. I must have hit my head on the wheel, and the seatbelt was cutting into my ribs. Might have broken a few. The engine sputtered and grumbled. Still running. With any luck, still drivable.

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