The whole thing made me sick, but it matched up with the information in Fletcher’s file.
But what was especially revealing was that Grimes wasn’t the only one in on the act. Hazel enjoyed torturing the girls even more than Grimes did, beating them, berating them, and using her Fire magic on them again and again for no real reason other than the fact that she could. Sometimes she was the one who would go trolling and bring back whatever young man caught her eye to meet the same sad fate as the kidnapped girls.
“How many men does Grimes have?” I asked. “Where are they stationed? What kind of weapons do they have?
Do any of them have elemental magic?”
The guy hesitated, so I cut him again to encourage him to keep talking. After a few more slices with my knife, he sang like the proverbial canary.
According to my new best friend, Grimes currently had around three dozen men working for him—a mix of dwarves, giants, vampires, and humans, all armed with guns, knives, and whatever other weapons they could make or scrounge up. But Grimes and Hazel were the only ones with elemental magic. A few guards patrolled the camp perimeter, but Grimes counted on his ruthless reputation to keep most folks away, along with the booby traps that surrounded his camp.
Apparently, my guy was a relatively new recruit and had been sent down to do a sweep through the park and make sure that no one was hanging around who shouldn’t have been and that no one had tracked Sophia to Bone Mountain.
“Grimes said that some woman tried to stop him,” the guy babbled. “Some chick who got lucky and took out a couple of our guys. He said that once he had the dwarf under control, he was going to go back for the other chick—and that he was going to teach her a lesson that she wouldn’t forget.”
“Well, Grimes doesn’t have to worry about finding me,” I said. “Because I’m going to find him first. Anything else you want to add?”
The guy didn’t say anything, so I casually twirled my knives in my hands to motivate him one final time.
“That’s it! That’s it!” he sputtered again. “That’s all I know. I swear! I swear! I wouldn’t lie, not to you.” He
stared at the knives in my hands—knives stained a bright, glossy crimson with his blood. He shuddered, but a desperate, hopeful light still flared in his eyes, despite what I’d done to him. “So . . . I was helpful, right? I mean,like, really,really helpful. I told you practically everything there is to know about Grimes and his operation.”
“Oh, yeah. You sang your sweet little heart out for me.”
I didn’t add that it had been a foregone conclusion.
Few people could resist more than a few minutes of torture, even me.
“So . . . you . . . you’re going to let me live, right?” the guy asked.
Behind me, Owen and Warren remained still and silent. They hadn’t said a word while I’d carved up and questioned the guy, and they didn’t speak now. It wouldn’t have done them—or him—any good. Because I had a promise to keep to Jo-Jo and Sophia—and Fletcher too.
“You said that you’ve been working for Grimes for, what, six months now?”
The guy nodded his head.
“Tell me,” I asked. “Of all those poor women Grimes has kidnapped and brought to his camp in the time that you’ve been here, exactly how many of them did you rape and torture along with the others?”
He winced, as though I’d caught him with his hand in a cookie jar instead of talking about the horrible bru— talization of so many innocent victims. “Um . . . well . . . you see . . .” His voice trailed off, and he gave me a sheep— ish grin, followed by a shrug, as if to say that he was just one of the guys.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what I thought.”
I plunged my knife into his heart. The guy opened his mouth to finally let out a good, long, loud scream, along with all the others he’d been holding back while I’d been cutting him. But I denied him even that much mercy. I ripped the blade out of his chest and sliced it across his throat before he could utter a single sound. He bled out quickly after that, which was a far more merciful death than what his vile gang had given all those young women and men.
When I was sure that he was dead, I wiped my knives off on his pants leg, then got to my feet. Warren and Owen stayed silent.
Warren finally turned to one side and spat on the rocks. “That’s one of Grimes’s men that we won’t have to worry about getting between us and Sophia.”
Well, I supposed that was one way of looking at things, instead of the cold, hard fact that I’d just tortured and killed a man. Warren nodded at me, then shouldered his rifle and satchel and started back up the ridge.
And finally, even though I dreaded it, I turned to face Owen.
I expected to see censure stamped all over his features, along with disgust, disapproval, and disappointment. But I didn’t find any of those things. Instead, Owen stared right back at me, his violet gaze level and steady on my gray one. There was no judgment in his eyes, no wariness, no hurt or pain or anger.
Instead, he squared his shoulders and faced the truth of the situation head-on, just like I did. Because the other cold, hard fact was that Harley Grimes wasn’t the only one who had a heart of venom. I did too.
Owen had just seen me at my most violent, my most vicious, my most vindictive, and he wasn’t disgusted by my actions, and he wasn’t turning away from me because of them. I wondered at the change in him. Maybe he only felt this way because this was some random stranger who lay dead at my feet and not someone he had loved.
Not Salina.
“Warren’s right,” Owen finally rumbled. “One down. And good riddance.”
He nodded at me, then hefted his backpack onto his shoulder, turned, and headed after Warren.
If the situation had been different, if we’d had more time, I might have called out and asked him if he really meant what he’d said and what he really thought about everything that I’d done. But Sophia was waiting, and this was no time to be selfish and think about Owen and me and what was or wasn’t happening between us. Not when
Sophia was in so much danger and especially not when she could be in so much pain right now because of Grimes.
So I slid my knives back up my sleeves, grabbed my own bag, and followed Owen and Warren up the ridge.
Chapter Fourteen
We’d been hiking for about thirty minutes when we came across the first trap.
I only noticed it because the trap was emanating the faintest bit of magic. I was scanning the forest, a knife in my hand, on the lookout for Grimes’s men. I took a step forward, and hot, invisible bubbles started popping against my skin.
“Stop,” I said. “Nobody move.”
Warren and Owen both froze in their tracks.
After a moment, Owen frowned. “Is that . . . Fire magic?”
Owen had an elemental talent for metal, which was an offshoot of my own Stone power, so he could sense magic just like I could.
“Yeah,” I said. “I feel it too. Now, let’s see if we can find out where it’s coming from.”
We peered into the woods around us, eyeing the trees, leaves, rocks, even the dirt under our feet.
“There,” Warren said.
He pointed at a slender poplar about three feet ahead on the faint track we’d been following. It took me a few seconds to realize that a small rune had been scorched into the tree trunk a couple of inches off the ground, a small circle surrounded by several dozen wavy rays. A sunburst, the symbol for Fire.
Runes were more than fancy familial symbols or flashy business logos. Elementals could also imbue runes with their magic and get them to perform specific functions.