Wish Bound (A Grimm Agency Novel Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

harakathin. Each stood at least twelve feet tall, with long arms that trailed on the ground. One glowed pure white, the one called blessing. The other, technically a curse, shone with violet light. In my experience, the term
blessing
or
curse
was completely arbitrary.
    Isolde swung her whip, slicing a cut open across blessing’s chest. A shower of golden sparks trailed to the ground as my pet bled magic, and I winced, losing my tenuous view through the veil. Before me, Isolde twisted and sidestepped, lashing out again and again. A storm gathered on her face with every act, and every time she swung, a hint of fear crept into her eyes. A gash tore open in her dress, and her whip faltered, fading away.
    And for one split second, fear found footing in Isolde’s eyes. The carpet rippled toward her, and all sound ceased. My ears rang in the silence.
    Then the world breathed out.
    At least, that’s the closest I can get to it. Like Isolde had sucked reality itself inside her and blew it out. From the corners of the room, a wail like all the voices of the dead and every wounded cat to ever grace a highway split my ears.
    “Oblivion.” Isolde spoke the word, and the air snapped, like static electricity.
    I felt them die. My blessings. My pets. Torn away in an instant, blown to shreds by a force of magic so strong, I’d never encountered anything remotely like it. Sharp pain flared inside me as two lives guttered out like candles in a hurricane.
    It’s a good thing I was already on my face; I wouldn’t have been able to stand.
    Ari’s gasps roused me, choking cries, like a hamster caught in a blender. I pushed up, looking for her, and the spotlight-in-the-eyes hit me again as my vision momentarily aligned with my peephole in the veil. This time, I understood how to use it, tilting my head just so.
    If I’d eaten breakfast, I’d have vomited.
    In flesh, Isolde resembled the paintings. Breathtaking beauty that seemed to only grow richer each time I looked at her, sleek white skin, and grace I could only dream of.
    Through the veil, I saw the truth, a truth that would haunt my nightmares from that moment onward.
    Isolde spent a few years trapped in a thorn tree, according to Grimm. Through the veil, I saw that perhaps she’d never truly left it. The best I can do is to say she looked like a thorn tree grew legs, borrowed a set of teeth from a shark, and grafted octopus tentacles into its branches. Actually, any self-respecting octopus would tear those limbs off and take up life as a jellyfish before waving appendages like that.
    Ari shone like a spotlight, the source of the beam that caught my attention, golden light like a thousand suns welling up, churning inside her. And then the tentacles wrapped around her, pulling her in, breaking off chunks of light and swallowing them.
    I once heard a witch claim the Black Queen could drink souls. Now I no longer considered it a euphemism.
    Ari didn’t scream. Her body convulsed in bursts, the guttural moan from her lips telling me she had seconds, maybe less.
    “Stop.” I don’t remember making the decision. Just knowing what I had to do. “I’ll do it.”
    Ari went stiff, a convulsion gripping her.
    Isolde, her lovely lady form cloaking the monster that lay inside, turned back toward me. She spoke with leisure, each word measured. “Yes, handmaiden?”
    “Let her go. I’ll serve you. Just let her go.” The words left me winded, nearly broken. My left arm dropped to my side, like I’d been shackled to an anchor.
    “Yes, you will, darling. We have an agreement.” Isolde jerked her hand at me, and the weight of a black hole forced me to kneel. She walked over, each step filled with menace, and raised my chin to stare into her radiance. “You have until the new moon to set your affairs in order. Arm yourself appropriately. The hand cannons you favor are no weapons fit for my servants.”
    Ari collapsed to the floor, her head flopping to the side.
    Isolde looked at her with