Chapter 16

The cottage lookedquaint in the early morning light. Not even ten o'clock and it felt like the longest day ever. From the outside, everything appeared calm. Unlike my guts, which churned.

I left my bike behind Mom's car, leaning on its kickstand, my helmet on the seat. I stalked to the cottage, angry and afraid of what I'd find.

Walden appeared in the doorway but, for once, not in a suit. He wore a plaid shirt of dark green, blue, and black along with cargo pants. He leaned against the frame and smirked. "Hello, Agent Hood. So nice of you to come."

"Fuck you. Where's my mom and Grams?" I thought it encouraging I didn't see signs of blood. But knowing what he'd done to the others, I feared the worst.

"You can seem them in a moment. First, drop the gun."

I held out my arms and let my jacket gape wide open. "What gun?"

"Come now, Agent Hood. I'm not stupid. The one tucked in the back of your pants."

So much for going into this armed. I reached for my weapon, never removing my eyes from him. I'd only get one chance to drop him.

He drawled, "I should probably mention I'm holding a string attached to the trigger of the gun pointing at your mother's head. If you shoot me, she dies." He held up his hand, which indeed showed twine wrapped around his palm.

I bit back a growl of annoyance at him for figuring out my plan. Reaching behind, I pulled out my revolver and held it with a single finger before I crouched to place it on the ground.

"That's better. Now your phone."

"I don't have one on me."

"Bullshit," he snapped.

"It's the truth. After our phone call, it suffered a fatal fall."

He arched a brow, and his lips curved ever so slightly. "Temper, temper. Must be the red hair."

"Are you done being an asshole? I want to see my family."

"Of course. Come on in." He moved, and I watched as he coiled the string around his hand to keep it from getting slack.

Holding tight to my anger and fear, I entered the cottage, which dared to appear homey and cheerful despite the calamity striking it. It should have been as dank and gloomy as my mood.

I found my mom and grandma in the living room, trussed with duct tape, their mouths covered, my mom's eyes wide and terrified. Grams, though, looked pissed. While her hair might be white now, she'd once been as redheaded as me.

The room had been tampered with. The knickknacks I could have thrown removed. The coffee table shifted out of the way to accommodate the kitchen chair facing the couch, which held the aforementioned gun positioned on it, the string Walden held extending to its trigger in a loop that just needed a sharp tug to tighten and fire.

I'd have to do something about that before I took him out. What could I grab sharp enough to shear the tether without putting pressure?

As if sensing my direction of thought, Walden lifted his arm, pulling taut the string. "Don't even think about it. It would be a shame for you to ruin the final act."

"You've got me here. Now what?" I snapped.

"Sit with your family, as I have a story to tell."

A story? Like I wanted to listen to a bad guy's monologue. Then again, what choice did I have?

The sofa had room for me, so I sat between my mom and grandma, where at least I could shove the former to the side and take the bullet meant for her. This was my fault. My curse. I didn't want my mom to pay for it, even if I had to die.

Walden planted himself before us. "Once upon a time, there was a huntsman named Roland Chasseur."

Mom made a noise, and I froze in shock because I knew that name. I'd seen it listed on my birth certificate under father.

"You know my father?" I blurted out.

"Don't you mean our father?" he snidely replied.

My blood chilled. "We're related?" Gross on too many levels to count.

"Indeed we are, sister."

"I don't believe you. Your last name is Walden."

"It's my mother's maiden name. My grandfather insisted I change it when I went to live with him after my mother lost custody. But I digress. Back to Roland. Did you know dear ol' dad, an avid huntsman, already had a family when the Red Cap curse hit him on a business trip? Married for five years with a four-year-old son. Not that he gave a damn when he chose to cheat on my mother. Did he give a thought to his family? No!" Walden spat.

An all-too-common complaint of those who lost loved ones to the Grimm Effect. "Roland didn't do it on purpose. The curse—"

"Was a convenient excuse," Walden barked. "He wanted out of that marriage. I might have been young, but I remember my parents fighting. Even heard the word divorce mentioned a few times. But rather than try to work things out, he betrayed us. He fucked another woman and freely admitted it upon his return, which destroyed my mother."

My throat tightened. "I'm sorry, but I swear Mom never knew he was married."

"Would it have mattered?" he snapped. "The curse got what it wanted."

It sure had. Misery to go around. "I guess your parents worked things out since he never came back."

"On the contrary, he planned to return to his whore. It didn't matter how much my mother begged. As far as he was concerned, the marriage was over and too bad for me and my mother. She didn't take the news very well. To this day, I remember the screaming. His, I should clarify. Mom was in the kitchen when he gave her the news. Right next to the butcher block. She took a knife to him. Slit his throat, ear to ear, and she watched as he bled out."

My mom made a noise of distress. Jeezus, how horrifying.

"Roland's dead?" My flat response.

"Very much so. I might have been young, but I still remember the shock on his face."

My stomach heaved. "You witnessed your father's murder."

"It was more like art. The way the blood fountained. How he had his mouth opened to scream, only he couldn't make a sound. He jiggled for a bit on the floor until the loss of blood killed him."

That trauma explained so much. "What happened to your mom?"

"They declared her insane and locked her away. Given I had no other family, they put me with my grandfather, who was too old to care what I did in my spare time. Lucky for me he never listened to the whining neighbors."

"Why did they complain?" I asked in a faint voice.

"They accused me of having done something to their pets. I had, but they could never prove it. Grandad was a hunter you see. He taught me how to properly track my prey and hide my tracks. Took me along with him on his hunts when I was old enough to hold a rifle steady. Unfortunately, even killing monsters stales after a while, so I migrated to more challenging prey."

"You started killing people." I felt faint.

"It was the logical next step. At first, it was about the thrill of the kill. I only went after random strangers. I'd lure them into an alley and slit their throat with a knife. But when I devised my new plan and moved here, I decided to fool those seeking a man with a blade. You saw my early experiments in that hut in the woods."

I'd not noticed the box just inside the living room entrance. Walden bent to reach within, and when his hand emerged, it wore a glove that looked like it belonged with a costume. Covered in long hair and tipped in claws.

"Is that supposed to be a wolf's paw?"

Walden grinned. "Indeed, it is. It's much easier to indulge in my hobby when authorities waste their time looking for something specific. Like, say, a wolf."

Absolutely insane but it did clarify one thing. "You framed Aidan. "

"I did. He provided me the perfect patsy. Thanks to all my years spent hunting monsters, I knew he was a wolf the moment I crossed paths with him."

"You've met?"

"Oh yes. When I learned he was a handyman, I hired him to do some work on my office renovation. How ironic he happened to live in the same building as my target."

I made a leap. "You moved here because of me."

His lips curved. "I did. Funny thing is I didn't even have a glimmer of your existence until a year ago. Roland never knew he left his whore pregnant. When my grandfather died last year, I found a box with all the paperwork from my mom's trial. In the transcripts, she spoke of a wicked woman named Charlene who stole her husband. I'll admit it wasn't easy tracking your mother down. Lots of Charlenes in this city, but my perseverance paid off."

"You were going to kill my mother." A flat reply. I kept him talking for a few reasons. One, I wanted to know why. Why target me and those people? Two, I kept hoping for a miracle, which wouldn't happen because I'd dumbly listened to him and come without warning anyone.

"I had such torturous plans for her, but then imagine my shock when I realized she'd had a daughter."

"But you didn't come after me. You went after innocent people."

"Because when I learned you were an agent, I knew it would be fun to draw this out. I targeted people wearing red to taunt you."

"And did a poor job of it. We didn't even know about the bodies you'd stacked in that hut until you reported it."

He shrugged. "A miscalculation that I corrected by making the next targets more public. In the end, it worked. You believed a wolf was killing and targeting possible Red Caps."

"You're sick."

"What can I say? The curse must have been passed down. Now I am the huntsman in this story."

I pursed my lips. "Surely you're aware the huntsman saves Red Cap. He doesn't kill her and her family."

"Which is the problem with the original tale. What did the huntsman gain from coming to her rescue? Nothing. It's a stupid story that needs to change."

"Agreed, but killing isn't the way to do it. I would know. I've beaten the curse already. All it needs is for you to walk away." I didn't hold my breath hoping to sway him, but I also had to try.

"Walk away?" He sounded incredulous. "Never. You are the reminder of why I lost my parents and had to live with that cold bastard of a grandfather. You are the living embodiment of where my life went to hell. Once you and the whore who tempted my father die, only then will I have peace."

There was no reasoning with this level of insanity exacerbated by the Grimm Effect.

"I'm surprised you're wasting time instead of leaving town. Haven't you heard? The bureau is aware Aidan didn't murder those people. As a matter of fact, given they know it's a frame job, and you were the one who supplied much of the supposed evidence, I imagine it won't be long before they're looking for you." Could I scare him off?

"Let them. I plan to be gone within the hour. Now that you're all gathered, it's time to end this story properly."

He dropped the string he'd been holding this entire time, taking the booby-trapped gun out of the equation. He shoved his now free hand into his box, and it emerged wearing a second wolf's paw. His grin proved quite vulpine and his eyes quite mad as he huskily murmured, "Who wants to die first?"

Before I could even think of replying, Grams lurched from the couch in his direction, unable to walk because of her bound ankles, but capable of throwing herself at him. I gasped as Walden swiped, Grandma only barely lifting her arms in time to block. A claw slashed through the tape binding Grandma's wrists. Not enough to free her but the tear was enough that, when she hit the floor on her knees, she could tear them apart.

"Guess we have a volunteer." Walden lifted his arm, ready to come down on my grams, who threw herself sideways and kicked with her bound feet, causing Walden to teeter.

I saw my chance and dove for him, slamming into his mid-section, forcing the air out of him with an oomph. Our momentum slammed against the kitchen chair with its gun. As it fell, so did Walden, me on top of him.

He snarled in my face. "You're just delaying the inevitable."

"Don't be so sure of that," I muttered as I rolled away from him. The gun had been knocked sideways on the chair but remained attached enough I couldn't grab and use it.

A quick glance showed Grandma had a knitting needle in hand and was stabbing the tape on her ankles. Smart lady. I'd not seen the basket for her hobby by the couch. I dove for it and grabbed another pronged metal stick, not the greatest weapon, but when I whirled with it extended, Walden paused.

We faced off, me wielding a weapon of knitting destruction, him with his mitten claws.

"You can't win, Riding Hood," he warned.

Rather than reply to him, I muttered, "Grams, free Mom and get out of here while I deal with this asshole."

Walden arched a brow. "Is that any way to treat your brother?"

"I like being an only child." I darted for him, slashing my needle, which he easily dodged.

"I always wanted a sibling," he admitted. "The fun I could have had torturing a small child." He sighed and smiled. Sick fucker.

"I can see why your dad wanted to leave," I taunted. "You probably reminded him of his crazy wife."

"Don't you talk badly about my mom," he screeched, launching himself in my direction. I sidestepped and stuck out my feet, catching him in the ankle, causing him to stumble but not fall.

A brief peek showed Grandma had slashed through the tape on Mom's legs first and hauled her to her feet.

Mom's panicked gaze met mine, and I yelled, "Get out of here. Call for help."

"Yes, run, run. You won't get far," taunted Walden. "Your cell phones are in the toilet. And your car… Let's just say it's going to need to be towed."

"Son of a bitch." I darted for him, swinging my useless metal stick, which he danced away from.

"You're a feisty thing compared to the others. In the beginning, I had to drug them because they just wouldn't stand still as I practiced. But as I got better, I managed to kill them before they even knew it was coming."

"Not true. You drugged the father of that family a few days ago. Guess you're not good enough to face a real foe head-on." I taunted him, hoping to distract him.

"Hunters use whatever tools are at their disposal to ensure mission success."

"Those people didn't deserve to die." I inched to my left, closer to the dining room with the buffet, which had dishes I could throw but also the good silverware, which included knives.

"What's the point of being a hunter if you don't have prey? Besides, they served a purpose. Once I mastered the gloves, I needed the bureau to look the wrong way while instilling a sense of panic in you. Did you huddle under your blankets at night wondering if I'd come for you next?"

"No," I retorted. "I dreamed of how I'd catch you and put a bullet between your eyes."

"You feared enough to send your family away."

"Them, I worried about, but me?" I cocked my head and smiled. "You messed with the wrong Fairytale agent."

Slam. I heard a door shutting and, seconds after, the rumble of my bike. Relief filled me. No matter what, Grams and Mom would be safe. They had to be. Now, time to save myself.

I feinted to my right, and Walden fell for it. I spun before he realized my intent and leaped for the buffet. Cutlery jangled as I yanked open the drawer. I had no time to really look, just grab. My hand closed around… a fork.

Walden moved quicker than expected, and I hissed as claws swiped across my arm, leaving stinging stripes. I whirled and stabbed him with the tines.

"Bitch!" he yelled as he reeled from me, the fork sticking out of his arm.

I grabbed a knife next. "Let's go." I beckoned. "Or are you going to slither out of here on your yellow belly because you're not the only one who can cut now?"

"You call that a knife?" he mocked in a poor imitation of Crocodile Dundee. He tossed his wolf gloves to the floor and moved from me to his box and removed an axe. Short-handled, the kind often brought along with camping supplies to chop small branches and split kindling.

Walden held it upright like a torch. "Say hello to the axe that killed the wolf threatening your mother. My father kept it in the trunk of his car, and my grandfather saved it for me. Do you know it's never tasted blood since that wolf? Until today." He swung it pendulum-like in front of him as he sang, "Why what big eyes you have, Agent Hood."

"All the better to see the truth," I replied, taking a step back. His axe versus my steak knife gave me cause for concern.

"My what a sassy mouth you have, little sister," he mocked, shuffling closer.

"All the better to call you an idiot for choosing evil over good."

"My how tiny you are compared to me, whore's spawn," he spat next.

"All the better to outrun your psycho ass," I huffed as I spun and bolted for the front door.

Mom and Grams should be long gone if they'd not fallen off my bike. Hopefully they'd reached the neighbors and called for help. I just had to stay alive long enough for someone to arrive. Meaning, I couldn't let Walden catch me.

It might have been a tad easier if the Grimm Effect weren't involved, because I stepped out of the cozy cottage into a dark and dank forest.