that, if he held her tight against his chest, she would feel his heart beating too.
Leo never thought it would be possible for longing to coexist with loathing, at least not like this. It seems impossible that he can want someone so much while also knowing that, when the time comes, he will have to kill her.
11th October
Twenty-one days . . .
3:33 a.m.
Wilhelm Grimm watches his four favourite daughters. He watches and he waits. Over centuries he’s developed the patience of a saint, so to speak, since he’s anything but. However, when it comes to humans, demons need to be as patient as angels. He doesn’t have much longer to wait now: a strike of lightning, a flicker of starlight. In three weeks they’ll turn eighteen.
He doesn’t yet know how the night of the Choosing will go. It’ll be a particular shame if he must kill them, as he has so many of his other daughters before—he can’t afford, after all, to have such powerful forces working against him. But Wilhelm has high hopes for these four, especially Bea. And if he can win over Goldie, that’ll be a coup indeed. She’s the most powerful Grimm girl he’s seen in four hundred years, not that she has any inkling of that just yet. Her potential for darkness delights him. It’s surprisingly great, given that her mother was such a wimp. Although the stepfather had helped to twist her spirit and stoke her rage. Now all she needs is a nudge in the right direction.
Just imagine the devastation she could wreak, the agony, the misery . . . Unleashed on the world, she could do in a week what a dozen other diligent sisters could only do in a decade. If Goldie goes dark, Wilhelm knows, she will be unstoppable.
3:33 a.m.—Goldie
When I wake, the feeling that I’ve been with Leo, that I’m holding his hand, is so strong I can feel the warmth on my skin. But he’s not beside me. I’m alone. My sheets are cold, except where I’ve lain, where they are wet with sweat.
In the dark I think about the first time I saw him. I start to wonder if I could call Leo to me, if I could summon him with my thoughts as I did the first time we met. If I could override his reticence. Is it possible I have the power to do that?
3:33 a.m.—Leo
For now, Leo waits. Seducing Goldie will have its strategic advantages, certainly. But he’s still not certain that he can be trusted not to compromise himself in the process. He’s already thinking about her far too often. He already feels more than he should feel.
It isn’t easy. When they speak, exchanging pleasantries on the weather or breakfast, Leo wants to stop her. When they pass in the corridor, Leo wants to seize hold of her. Instead, he watches her walk away and waits until the next time, when he does the same thing all over again.
6:58 a.m.—Scarlet
It had taken Scarlet no time to discover that nursing homes, even crappy ones, cost a fortune. She’s looking at anything between five hundred (dire) and two thousand (plush) pounds a week. A week! Which means Scarlet will not only have to sell the café for an extremely tidy sum but also find something far more lucrative than waitressing to finance the shortfall. But there’s no point in worrying about all that right now. First things first. She has, much to her regret, called Ezekiel Wolfe.
They’ve arranged to meet tomorrow, on neutral territory. Walt—who’s still working on the damn dishwasher—has kindly agreed to sit with Esme while Scarlet’s gone, in exchange for a tray of cinnamon buns. She’d offered him a batch of brownies too, to sweeten the deal, but he looked offended and said he didn’t need to be bribed to do something he’d happily do for free. Scarlet had wished, in that moment, that she could hire him to look after Esme full-time. She couldn’t afford £120 an hour, but perhaps she could pay him in cakes.
9:09 a.m.—Bea
He is sitting on the rain-soaked library steps when Bea sees him again. She slows her stride, stopping at the step below him. “You really can’t take a hint, can you?” Bea says. “And I didn’t think I was that subtle.”
“You weren’t,” he says. “You made your feelings quite clear.”
“That’s what I thought,” Bea says, twirling the handle of her umbrella. “Then why are you here? I presume you’re not sitting here just to soak