The Wailing Woman

34. I Sin, I Sin, And I Sin

Stairs were going to kill me. Trying not to think of the wound on my thigh, I limped down the stairs as fast and quietly as I could. I knew there were still two other warlocks inside the house and I didn't want to stick around to fight. I needed to save my energy to run. The wooden boards creaked each time I set my left leg, so many fucking stairs, I stretched my arm each time I grabbed the rail.

At least the door wasn't far. My fingers shakily, urgently twist the knob and—

Antonio barked from upstairs. "GET HER! GET HER! SHE IS NOT—"

I swung the door open and took off running into an open wheat field. I had no idea where I was nor did I have any idea where I was going. I've been isolated in the middle of nowhere. I look over my shoulder, seeing the tilting worn-out two-story house. My eyes drift to a ruffling sound, two warlocks were running toward me and another pair emerged from the left. Where did they come from?

My head pounds as panic nips at the corner of my mind. I push myself harder ignoring the throbbing on my leg. I don't know where to go. I don't know where to go. I don't know what—If you wish for my presence, you can scream the name you've given me and I will appear before you. 

My heart races. 

I tilt my head slightly back, and I'm mesmerized by the thousands of glittering stars in the night sky. I almost feel as if he is watching me from up there like he is waiting for me to say his name.

But I don't want to wish on a star. I want him to be real. I want—no, I need him to be real because I can't be disappointed over something that is not real.

Wheat faintly grazes my legs and arms. Exhaustion begins to climb over every wound and ache. I want to call him, but will he show up? I can hear you, raven. It rings like a dream.

I draw a sharp breath. "Gri—" Hot wind passes my shoulder, and ahead a patch of wheat is ignited. Dammit. I take a different direction and run faster as I hear them getting closer. I glance over my shoulder and see a flaming ball flying across—I duck my head and watch as another part of the field is being swallowed by fire.

"Grimm." It comes out breathless and below a whisper. Nothing happens. No one is here. Panic settles in my stomach, and a knot forms in my throat. "Grimm," I say, a bit clearer.

Nothing.

I can't keep running forever. They're going to catch me if I don't do something. Why wasn't he here? Why isn't it working? They keep throwing flames scorching the wheat field and at one point they're going to trap me. My legs waver in despair but my lungs burn in desperation. I look upon the starry sky as if it were him.

"GRIMM!" I shout.

"GRIMM!" I beg.

One of the warlocks yells. "No one can hear you! No one can save you! Give up!" I ignored them because they didn't know who swore to me they would come. He promised.

"GRIMM!" I cried.

"GRIMM!" I screamed.

I sound like a madwoman calling for her lover but as my legs begin to slow down, I think about what I'm doing wrong. Harbinger of Death, I remember. They must die. Every single one of them. My feet are starting to trip, so I sprint like it's a race. I close my eyes and I wish but I do more than a wish.

They're all going to die, my heart skips like a rabbit. Death will appear as will The Capturer of Souls, in the same body, and he will end their life because it is time for their souls to be captured. And because I demand it.

"Grimm." His name comes out like a sin but it's filled with the same devotion of a prayer.

Another blaze of fire almost grazes my skin but I stumble backward from it and my legs are about to give out—I stretch my arm to grab onto something but instead, something grabs me.