Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

GRIMM

H e twisted to kiss Agatha's temple, sensations of warmth flooding through him as she stirred sleepily in his arms. "Marry me," he murmured against her hair, and she huffed a sleepy laugh.

"You've already asked me that, reaper. Many times."

"I mean it." And he did. The eclipse was coming. He didn't know how soon, what with time moving differently in Achlys, but it couldn't be far off.

Agatha sat up on her elbows, looking into his soul with those honey eyes.

"I've married you in almost every life I've lived since the first I saw you," he said, "and I intend to keep it that way. You're already my wife in every way that matters, and I know it's just a ceremony, but I?— "

He needed this.

A strange sort of sadness wafted from her down the bond, and Grimm took her chin in his hand, searching her eyes. "I'm scared, too," he finally said quietly.

Agatha swallowed, blinking back tears. He dropped his hand and kissed her gently.

"Surely Seleste has found Chresedia's exit point by now. When we all convene to head in that direction, I think we can make time for a simple ceremony." She smiled and he ran a thumb over her bottom lip.

"I know you're anxious to get to your Sisters, but before I return to Merveille…" He kissed her gently again and stood, wrapping a loose sheet around his waist. "I have a stop I need to make."

The lantern glowed from where it hung next to their bed, the souls calling to him. He lifted it, peering inside at those he'd managed to rescue from Chresedia's clutches. His gaze travelled from those he'd saved, up his arm to the marks inked on his arm of all those he had not.

Meeting Agatha's eyes again, he set the lantern back on its hook. "I need to go to Eldritch. I can go alone, and meet yo?—"

"No," she cut him off, standing swiftly, beautifully naked. "I'll not spend one moment away from you. Not now."

How could he possibly deny her that? "Well, you can't go like that, little witch. Get dressed."

AGATHA

It was everything she remembered it to be, Eldritch Alley. All dark corners, cracked buildings, and cobblestone teeth poised to bite.

It was glorious.

No wonder Sorscha had slunk off to Eldritch so often when Livie was young. Livie the Poisonous—number Seven of the Eldritch Eight, she mused inwardly as they passed the swaying Black Moon Apothecary sign.

"It's amusing really," Grimm said, holding up the soul lantern to illuminate their way, paradoxically so, considering no one would be able to see the light it issued, save for the dark pair alone.

"What is?" Agatha asked, knowing that he'd deduced some of her own thoughts through the bond, while she could only tell his were merely a jumble of calculated amusement.

She was beginning to think she would never have their bond as strongly as he did, considering some of her Primordial magic lay trapped within the locket around her neck. Though, some of his power did as well.

"It's ironic that two of the Primordial Thirteen are trudging through the dark carrying one of the souls of the Eight Eldritch Dreadfuls."

"That's one way to put it," she muttered, avoiding an indiscernible puddle. All right, so the architecture and gloom of Eldritch were more enjoyable in theory than in beautiful boots.

They stepped behind the shop of Louis the Deranged, Grimm pausing to look in the window. After a moment of sombre silence, he said softly, "Louis was a good man. "

Agatha stood silently by his side for a few more moments, until he was ready to continue on, skirting the building onto the docks. "I see it, there next to Lilah's Lounge ."

"Let's give it a go, I suppose," Grimm said, looking up at the creaking Riverside Mortuary sign.

She looked at Grimm's profile, his dishevelled hair and short but unruly beard. "What if it doesn't work? The souls are bound to their magic after all."

"I have to try. I gave my word."

She darted her hand out and into his, squeezing once. "Of course."

With the tiniest wisp of magic, Agatha unlocked the door. It was an odd sensation. It had been over a moon since she'd used much of her magic, having been in Seagovian court meetings and then in the essence of magic within Achlys and The Void.

Part of her wished there had been time to see what all Grimm's raw power could do when they were in Achlys. This walking god of a man.

He gave her a lazy grin. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Perhaps a moment of play wouldn't hurt. Just a tiny one.

It wouldn't hurt at all , his voice in the bond slid up her chest like the drag of his tongue. What did you have in mind, little witch?

"I once saw you disappear through a door, ody dispelled like smoke when you were on the draught, imprisoned beneath the Sanctuary. And you said you travelled through shadow to get to me from the Liminal Place." She smiled wickedly. "I've unlocked the door, but I would enjoy very much to witness you enter this mortuary on your own. "

His eyes sparked with the challenge, laced with desire that coursed through their entanglement, leaving her a little breathless. "Your wish is my command, my queen."

Agatha barked a laugh, rolling her eyes. "Stop that nonsense, God of Night ." She threw enough mocking into the title to choke a war horse. "Get on with it then." Shoulders back and chin high, she clasped her hands, looking between him and the closed door. "Your audience awaits."

Adder fast, Grimm closed the distance between them, bringing her hips toward his. The lantern swung against her backside as he kissed her fervently, his tongue sweeping over hers before he pulled away, biting her bottom lip.

Just as quickly, he pulled back, the edges of his lips curling as he morphed into his reaper. His bone and shadow cloak melted into smog, bleeding into the inky shadows along the alley, crawling and seeping into the wooden door until he and his soul lantern were gone.

Agatha opened the door to find her reaper looking as smug as a floating skeleton could. "Well done." She mocked a slow clap. "Where to next?"

Grimm looked over at the pair of liquor glasses sitting in a small waiting area. "It doesn't appear as if anyone has been in here since I took Gideon. Gods, it's been moons. How could no one have come here?" He drifted off into thought briefly before finally answering her question. "To the chill chamber. And let's hurry, the souls are getting restless." He held the lantern aloft, and it swung violently, the soul lights darting wildly around.

"Lead the way."

Gideon the Living, Number Four of the Eight Dreadfuls, certainly kept a tidy place. It wasn't what one would expect from an Eldritch establishment. Though she supposed Louis the Deranged's peculiarities shop had been elegant as well, save for the disturbed nature of some of his items. She wondered who had found poor Louis' broken body after Chresedia had slit his throat those moons ago. Once Grimm had gotten over the initial shock of Queen Fleurina's murder, she'd told him about Louis, and he'd found his soul a couple of days later, wandering by the river.

Agatha followed Grimm down a short hallway where he entered a room that was unnaturally cold. There were ways other morticians kept the deceased from rapidly decaying in their chill chambers, but this was something else. Her breath fogged in front of her like in the dead of Winter. Gideon must have achieved such a feat with the magic he'd concealed, but?—

"This one." Grimm interrupted her thoughts, yanking down a heavy latch and opening the door, its hinges screeching. The bones of his hand clinked on the cold metal tray. Only purple feet were visible before he pulled, and a body was unsheathed from its temporary, metal coffin. "Gideon the—" Grimm stopped. "Hm. Almost Living," he amended with a snort.

Setting the soul lantern on the autopsy table, he unclasped the latch and beckoned Gideon's soul out, coaxing it to land on the tip of his skeletal finger. Watching Grimm with the souls never grew tiresome. Agatha was the only other one on the mortal plane who could see them illuminate the bones on his face and dance around his skull. They were like giant fireflies, full of life and their own magic.

Agatha gasped. "Wait!"

Grimm looked to her as the soul floated toward its body .

"I have an idea." She twirled a strand of her hair around a finger. "I think this chilling magic is Gideon's."

As if the thought hadn't occurred to him, Grimm looked around the chamber, then shrugged, his exposed ribcage rising and falling with the movement. "That would make sense."

"That would mean his spell held, after his death."

His head cocked to the side. "I'm listening…"

"So his magic is connected to more than just his soul."

"You mean it's connected to the well of magic all mages and witches are connected to."

Agatha nodded.

"You," Grimm took it a step further.

She nodded again. "Me."

Agatha took a deep breath, closing her eyes, letting her magic search out the source of Gideon's spell. At first, she could only sense the residue left by all spells—an almost imperceptible chill, like the cool lingering touch of a spectre.

But the longer she stood there, her magic seeking out Gideon's, the clearer it became. "It's beautiful," she whispered, eyes still closed. It was light and dark, swirling together amongst flakes of snow and ice.

Gingerly, Agatha's magic pulled at a thread of the spell, the origination. When she did, it latched onto her threads with fervour, winding around her magic until it almost became one with hers. Before it could, she let out another tendril to block it.

"Holy goddess," Grimm breathed.

Agatha's eyes opened, and she saw whorling onyx and violet magic, dotted with glittering starbursts. The cosmos in a swirling thread.

"Hullo," she cooed at the tendril of magic. "It's time for you to return to where you belong, and that is not back with me just yet."

Grimm took Gideon's soul in his skeletal palm, holding it between the two of them. Agatha's magic coaxed the tendril of Gideon's magic to weave around the soul instead of her. They both watched in wonder and awe as it obeyed, the soul growing fuller, brighter.

Smiling, hope building, Grimm took the soul and pressed it back into Gideon's corpse.

Within a blink, Gideon gasped a great breath, sitting straight up on the tray. "Goddess' tits and teeth!" he shouted as he stiffly flung his legs over the side and made to stand. Grimm morphed back into his mortal body, rushing to steady him before he could topple over.

"Hairy arse of Lord Night!" he cursed again, finally looking at Grimm. "Oh, fuck, that's you isn't it?" He tried to laugh at his own joke as Agatha and Grimm were, but his body wasn't cooperating yet. "Gods, this gives entirely too much relatability to calling the corpses stiffs ."

Footing under control, Grimm let go of Gideon's arm. Agatha spelled a gentle heat to wrap around the mortician, and a dapper suit to cover him. "Grimm said you enjoy fine clothing," she explained.

Gideon held out his arms, admiring the make of the morning coat, then slid his hands down his trim waist. "I do indeed. Many thanks, pet."

Before Agatha could react, Grimm's hand lashed out and gripped Gideon by the throat. "Do not call my wife pet again or I'll put you back in that cold tomb. Hm?"

"Oh, calm yourself, Prince of Bone," he croaked, pulling at Grimm's arm .

Grimm let go and Gideon coughed, tugging at the edges of his coat to straighten it. "If you're his wife, does that make you the Queen of Seagovia," he said to Agatha, "or—" His eyes widened. "Oh my, if this beast is the Prince of Bone, that makes you Lady Magie de la Nuit, then?" He looked between them both, his handsome face twisted in contemplation. "No? Yes? Damn, my head was nearly frozen and quite dead. Help a man out here."

"You knew the Prince of Bone was Lord Night?" Grimm asked cautiously.

Gideon waved a hand dismissively, suddenly distracted by the lantern. "Fletch— Two ," he clarified for Agatha, " had some secret treatise I pilfered from him on the subject. Written by a toff who worked with Morgana the Archane. Pollock, I think his name was." He bent in front of the lantern, peering in, then looked over his shoulder at them. "Do I have a memory of being locked in this thing?"

"Wait a moment. Pollock?" Something about the name buzzed in Agatha's mind, and she looked to Grimm. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"Probably because he worked with Chresedia Gauthier at the Academy of Alchemy," Gideon answered for him. "They were professors there."

Agatha sucked in a breath, recalling the names she'd found while searching all the tomes Vera had brought her when they tried to learn more about animancy and Grimm's powers. "They were there too long to not have been witches and warlocks. I saw their names listed over and over for too many natural years in a book about the Academy."

Gideon rubbed at his chin. "The Pollocks were magi, far as I know. That line kept to The Order, father to son, for generations. Hidden in plain sight as members of the beau monde , then doctors, solicitors, and the like. Judging by that treatise I lifted, they were on to some dark arts, though."

"There were four of them that were at the Academy for ages, weren't there?"

Gideon shrugged. "Beats the fuck out of me, Your Majesty."

Agatha frowned at him but Grimm snorted. Ignoring them both, she summoned three tomes from their dusty rooms in Castle Merveille. She handed one to Grimm and one to Gideon. "Look for the names," she commanded.

"I'd rather not," Gideon drawled, tossing it onto the autopsy table. "This is Lyronia. You're not my queen, love."

Grinding her teeth, Agatha stared daggers at him. "Try using your lost magic, love ."

The mortician's cocky fa?ade faltered. He blinked at her before he held his hand, palm up, and summoned a ball of magic—a deep wine colour. She watched him blink rapidly, the magic dissipating, as gratitude became evident in the set of his mouth.

"You got it back."

"I gave it back."

Clearing his throat, Gideon picked up the book and flipped it open. "Right. Pollock…Pollock…"

Agatha and Grimm followed suit, all of them searching until Gideon whooped. "I win!"

He held out the book, perfectly manicured nail—despite his stint with death—pointing to a list of names and dates. Four of which showed up year after year after year.

Orrin Pollock

Chresedia Gauthie r

Nadja Rashad

Achilles Zivai

"Nadja Rashad?" Agatha looked at Grimm as Gideon moved about, opening and shutting all the doors to the corpse wall. "Asa and Lena's mother?"

But his face was white as a sheet, her words lost on him. "Achilles Zivai. He was Gaius' grandfather, Lady Manu's father."

Chills ran up Agatha's arms that had nothing to do with the cold chamber. "Gaius' grandfather who was killed on the road along with his daughter and her husband?"

"The very same."

Gideon cleared his throat. "This has been a fun History lesson and all." His magic took all three books and stacked them off in a corner. "But I can't very well open back up for business if my chill chamber is full of corpses I didn't put here."

Grimm shook his head, then ran a hand through his hair. "Right."

Gideon pulled out the trays of corpses one by one, making a show of it when he was done.

Without shifting into his reaper, Grimm coaxed all of the souls out of the lantern, whispering for them to find their bodies. They obeyed, hovering above them while Agatha restored the magic of any that had held it before death. Grimm gently placed the souls back in their chests. As each body gasped back to life, Gideon wrapped them in warming magic while Agatha calmed each of them and spelled clothing onto their naked bodies.

One by one, they offered their thanks to Grimm for bringing them back, their gratitude so much that it overwhelmed him. Agatha had never seen him blush in such a way, matching the embarrassment and deluge of emotion she could feel from him in the bond.

Eventually, they began slowly herding them out, directing them to where ships and carriages would soon depart from. Where he pulled it from she didn't know, but he handed them each far too much coin and wished them well.

When the last of the people had gone and they returned to the chill chamber, Gideon was sitting on the autopsy table, his cheeks rosy with life but none of his swagger present.

"She took some of our magic," he said as they entered. "Why?"

Agatha could feel Grimm's calculation. How much to reveal. How much to trust him.

"Chresedia is Lady War." They both watched as Gideon baulked at his blunt words. "That treatise you read, the dark arts you mentioned seeing in it… Did it involve animancy?"

Gideon nodded. "Reanimating the dead."

"Chresedia has done so with many bodies, and she herself has inhabited many bodies. She wishes to return to The Void and rule magic."

That was the condensed version, at least.

Gideon looked at Agatha, sceptical. "Because you are no longer there to do that?"

"You're astute," she muttered, "I'll give you that."

A smug grin split Gideon's face. "And you two plan to stop her, hm?"

They only stared at him silently, and he tipped his head back, howling with laughter until he had to clutch his abdomen.

"Right then. Have a grand time with that." Wiping a faux tear from his eye, he finally calmed. "That's rich. Well,"—he clapped both hands together—"thanks for all this, but I'm sure you can see yourselves out."

Agatha's fist clenched and she opened her mouth to spew a few choice words at him, but Grimm grabbed her waist, turning her toward the door.

Not worth it," he whispered.

Just as they made it into the corridor, Gideon's voice called out. "Uh, wait!"

Agatha peeked back around the doorframe, perilously close to shoving the mortician back in his little ice cubby.

"Is that feisty one going with you?"

Agatha scowled. " Feisty one ?"

"Your Sister." Gideon waggled a hand in front of him. "Tried to kill me and whatnot."

"Sorscha."

"Yes, Sorscha," he purred. "I like her and that pretty lord with her. The one you mentioned earlier."

"Gaius."

" Gaius ." The lust in his tone made Grimm's jaw clench. He hopped down from the table. "Let me get my good coat, then."