Grim: Hounds of Hell

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. TABLE OF CONTENTS DEDICATION PROLOGUE CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21 CHAPTER 22 CHAPTER 23 CHAPTER 24 CHAPTER 25 CHAPTER 26 CHAPTER 27 CHAPTER 28 CHAPTER 29 CHAPTER 30 CHAPTER 31 CHAPTER 32 CHAPTER 33 CHAPTER 34 CHAPTER 35 EPILOGUE EPILOGUE DEDICATION To those who revel in the darkness instead of running from it, this book is for you. “She wears strength and darkness equally well; the girl has always been half goddess, half hell.” ~nikita gill PROLOGUE GRIM 13 Years Ago… Soft sniffles echoed off the concrete walls and slammed into my ears. After five days of this torture, you’d think I’d be used to it. I wasn’t. Just like my body hadn’t acclimated to the biting icy winds and deadly silence that filtered through the hidden hatch door at the top of the bunker. The battery-operated space heater did little to thaw the chill from my bones. Though it could be because I was so far away from it. I didn’t need the warmth as much as my brothers. Five minutes older than Nyx and ten minutes older than Mercury, I always felt responsible for my younger siblings, even if we were triplets. Now, they needed me to step up more than ever. Pulling the solid gold pocket watch from the pocket of my ash and blood-soaked jeans, I checked the time and stood up from the small cot against the bunker's wall. My heart ached as I studied the watch. Dad had given each of us one as an early Christmas present. “Timing, sons,” he had said. “That’s what separates the winners from the losers.” His words still rang in my ears even though days had passed since I last heard his voice. I could still see the stern look on his face as he presented us with gifts meant to welcome us into adulthood. Waylen Whittaker was many things, a demon to some and a savior to others, but sentimental was never a phrase that could describe him. “Grim,” my brother, Nyx, whimpered. “Is he going to die?” Padding over to the small kitchenette, I busied myself with heating water on the battery-operated hotplate. It was well after eight and time for dinner. Normally around this time, we’d be sitting down to eat whatever Chef had cooked for the evening. Those days are gone, Grim. Pushing that thought out of my mind, I focused on the task at hand. Within a few minutes, two bowls of steaming chicken-flavored ramen noodles were ready, and my time to stall was over. “No,” I answered Nyx, handing him the bowl. “But–” “I said no,” I growled. For several glorious moments, Nyx was quiet as he stuffed his face. “Maybe…we could go find help now?” I stared at the concave ceiling and prayed to whatever God was listening to give me patience. Controlling my temper had never been my strongest attribute in the best circumstances. Now, in light of our new reality, I was always seconds from losing it and destroying any and everything in my path. The only thing stopping me was that my brothers needed me. Nyx was injured and too distraught to do anything and Mercury…Mercury was not going to die. I’d kill the angel of death myself if I had to. “The only thing we can do is wait. Mom always said we’d know when to leave, and we have to trust that. Plus, who knows what we’d find if we go out there. If they could…” I swallowed back my tears, unable to finish the words. Crying would do nothing to solve our problems. No, I could only focus on holding on a little longer. Nyx opened his mouth, likely about to argue with me, when I heard a scratching sound on the hatch door. Both of our heads snapped up. My heart thundered as I grabbed my bloodstained baseball bat with one hand and a sharp kitchen knife in the other. Nyx armed himself with a crowbar that was stained as much as my bat and stood in front of Mercury. I stood closest to the door. If an enemy was coming through that door, they’d have to go through me to get to my brothers. I’d lay down my life for theirs without hesitation. They had already lost so much; I wouldn’t allow their lives to be another thing that they forfeited. Moonlight poured in as the door opened, casting a milky glow over everything in the dimly lit bunker. A man jumped down, bypassing using the ladder, and stood in front of us. His face was hidden by the shadows, and I firmed my grip on my weapons. “Been a while, huh, nephews?” Relief smashed into my frame so fiercely that I almost collapsed. I would recognize that raspy voice anywhere. My mother’s only sibling, Uncle Horus. It made sense that he would be the one to find us. This bunker was Mom’s idea, to begin with. Dad had called her crazy and wasteful for spending the time and money to create it. But Kalma Jones-Whittaker was nothing if not protective. The bat and knife fell from my hand as tears filled my eyes. Uncle Horus opened his arms, and Nyx and I rushed into them. On the edge of being a teenager, I had long since done away with hugs, instead preferring manly handshakes. But, right now, I needed to feel warmth and safety from someone who loved me. Stepping back, I cleared my throat several times before saying, “Uncle Horus…Mercury—” “Will be fine,” he finished, his eyes trained