I patted down the dirt praying that something might grow. I have followed Refugio's instructions on how to plant new seeds and how much they should be watered. All the knowledge is ingrained in my head yet it shows to be useless as nothing shows or grows. My hand smacks the ground once, the brittleness sends tingles around my palm.

I need to control myself, control this anger.

"Hello, daughter of Nicolás De Luna and Catilin McGrath."

My head whipped around, she emerged from the corner revealing her gray hair braided and laid on her side, hanging to her hips, swinging as she moved with ease. The city's light pole brought her features, you could see the depths of her wrinkles, each one perfectly grown with age. Old, wise Fate stood in front of me.

I was in the mood for visits and seriously, why can't these Gods knock on my door? It's not that hard. Getting a grip, I stood up from the ground and pressed my palms to my face wiping away any sweat or tears. Well now, I was dirty with dirt.

"What do you want?" I said dryly, trying to cover my annoyance but not really.

Her lips curl bringing her wrinkles out, she almost looks like a caring grandmother.

"I see you made a new hole. I see nothing is new."

I scowled. "What do you want?"

She moves her hands behind her back and leans her head forward, I could see the amusement playing in her eyes.

Fate said, "You shouldn't have pushed out Dilara Arslan so soon, she had answers to your missing father. And witches are helpful, especially to their own kind." There it was again, she was calling me a witch.

"I'm not a witch," I repeated.

It happened so quickly, one moment her hands were behind her back and the next thing I felt was her hand on my shoulder. Stillness overtook my body. I couldn't move nor talk, my lips were pressed tightly together.

"Answers are appearing, Nora. This is one of them. You can't keep burying things as much as you would like, after all, all things resurface no matter how deep you bury them." She spoke to me as if I were a child.

If I had control over my body, I would have thrown dirt at her. Who the hell did she think she was telling me these things? I don't care if she was Fate, she had no right to talk about my life.

Her thin fingers crawl to my cheekbone digging her nails until she swiftly scratches my face. The stinging sensation burned across my cheek. My lips pressed more tightly igniting my rage.

Fate brought her bony finger to my view, the smallest spec of blood resting on the tip of her finger. The humor was gone from her eyes and she set her gaze on my blood, almost mesmerized by it.

A thick eerie feeling came and soon Fate spoke, "Nicolás De Luna, a practitioner of dark magic, the proclaimed dark warlock. Caitlin McGrath, a demoness, the twenty-six generational banshee. Nora De Luna, their child, takes the form of dark magic itself and the demonic blood in her veins only strengthens her power." She did not look at me once.

She turned her head to me, "Paths will appear, threads will become loose, and the impossibilities will become possible. Wake up, Crier of Souls, wake up and walk your path although you do not know your destination." She began to retreat backward. "Hear my warning, the Capturer of Souls will open his heart to you and your magic will bring back what he has once lost. But beware of your soul, of your heart. Do not let him capture it." Her voice was becoming small as drifted further from me.

And the further she withdrew, the more my body was starting to become my own again.

"My son will try to take more. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up."

Then she was gone like smoke.

I gasped loudly and clutched my chest breathing heavily. Fury and panic began to flood through my body as Fate's words were still whispering to me. Dark magic. Demon's blood. Power. But along with the self-identity crisis starting, I didn't forget her last words, she said, 'my son.'

Death's mother was Fate.

*****

We were hiding in the library's attic. The undisclosed, claustrophobic, cobwebbed, old-wooden attic. There was only a small circular window that allowed light from the library's ceiling fixtures but they were going to close the doors in less than thirty minutes and soon we will be alone in the dark.

And that was exactly what Grimm wanted.

We sat on dusty books while the other dying books that surrounded us toppled over one another or were balanced and straight as a tower. We sat in silence and picked up any book to read while we waited for the library to close. Or at least that's what I did. He copied me.

I received a text message from Grimm after three days had passed that we were going to capture another soul, I felt dread. I didn't want to see him after my encounter with Fate, his mother. But nonetheless, I got ready, not bothering to wear any of the clothing items he bought for me, and went for simplicity.

Black coat, long-sleeve shirt, jeans, and boots.

At first, when I saw him in his usual clothing I kind of wanted to run back and change but I ignored it. Grimm wore a smirk, as usual, he talked but then he quickly realized I wasn't in a talking mood. I was too busy having a conversation with my thoughts.

He walked. I followed.

The quietness was comfortable in the beginning however, slowly it turned into itchy stuffy air. Unbearable.

The sound of a book being slammed shut made me blink. I slowly lowered the book, uncovering my eyes alone to meet the gaze of the God of Death, whose pitch-black eyes were full of annoyance and restrained patience.

"Raven, I don't like playing the quiet game with you," Grimm snapped.

I guided my gaze back to the book I held in my hands, pretending to read whatever was in front of me.

He spoke again, "I know you are not reading, you haven't flipped a page in the past twenty minutes and I know you are not interested in the Encyclopedia." Dammit. I snapped my book shut and tossed it to the ground.

I folded my hands, placing them on my knees. I was now looking at Grimm who was now wearing a very satisfied grin, I rolled my eyes in response.

"You just want attention," I said.

He said without hesitation, "Only if it's yours."

I held my gaze, doing the best I could to hold my poker face even though my insides were rapidly fluttering. I couldn't show what I felt as Fate's words lingered in the back of my head, my son will try to take more, I had nothing to give. This feeling will pass.

I shook my head as I looked around to pick up another book but Grimm warningly said, "Don't. Let's have a conversation because clearly, you have a lot on your mind." He then added, "I want to hear your voice. I actually have grown quite fond of your voice." He shouldn't say things like that.

I looked up to see Grimm's body leaning forward as if he was trying to capture something from me. Capture. I hated that word.

"You like my voice?" I said flatly.

He rested his arms on his knees, bending himself a bit more as if he was going to tell me a secret.

Grimm lowered his voice. "Yes. It's low, haunting in a beautiful dream sort of way, it makes me want to step out of the shadows and bathe myself in the moonlight."

My son will try to take more.

I won't let him take anything from me. I won't let his charming words influence whatever is left in my heart. I won't let it happen.

I leaned my head forward, preparing myself to tear the wings of the butterfly fluttering inside my stomach.

"Did you know that your mother came to visit me the other day? She had a lot to say." I said icily.

And just like that Grimm moved back as his whole face fell flat. His hands folded, baring his knuckles white while his jaw clenched.

"Do you want to hear what she told me? I'll tell you since you like the sound of my voice." I continued. "Apparently, I'm a witch but I think you knew that and I am supposed to use this magic I have inside of me to make your wings appear. Then, she told me you are her son."

His nostrils flared. "She is not my mother. She is my creator. She created this monster you despise so much, the one you are supposed to help." I think he was upset, genuinely angry for calling Fate his mother.

Grimm looked away, turning to the nothingness of a wooden wall.

"Why do you call her your creator?" It was strange.

His jaw ticked, "Because that's what she is to me. Fate created the Gods, she likes to call us her children but that is not what we are to her. We weren't born like humans. We were created with an intended purpose for our immortal life."

His gaze turned to mine.  

"Would you like to know my purpose in life? It is to take away human life and show them the value of living so that when I come and get them, they don't have to be afraid or worried...that was my purpose originally until she changed her mind. Fate is fickle. She saw the horrors of humans and their despair so she claimed they must be punished in the afterlife. I agreed with her and yet I was not prepared for the atrocities I would commit. Fate claimed me as the Capturer of Souls guiding them either to Peace or Hell. And if they went to Hell, I was to punish them and to show them no mercy for their unforgivable acts. I became stronger and relentless but I lost the comfort I was supposed to bring to humans when they passed. How could I bring comfort when I faced the horrors of humankind every day? How could I when I had succumbed to the wickedness of monsters and became the monster that other monsters feared." 

He stood up from the stack of books he was sitting on.

A silence filled the air. I don't know what to say, all I could do is think and all I thought about was his voice. He sounded bitter yet there were times it sounded strained, I would have wanted him to tell this because he wanted to but he had no choice. He was opening his heart to me.

Grimm stood in front of the circular window still keeping himself hidden in the shadows.

"But don't hold yourself too highly, raven. I'm aware of the acts you have committed, does the name Frank Higgins ring a bell for you?"

My body stiffened. I remembered him, I remembered him so well because he was dead but hearing Grimm say his name confirmed my suspicion that he knew more about me than I liked.

He divulged, "Hospital records have claimed he died of a heart attack which is understandable for at the age of sixty-five but it's strange, Frank never had any physical health problems only psychological problems." I grasped the ends of my coat. "You know what's even stranger, the nurses who found him remembered seeing a trail of blood coming from both sides of his ears. I wonder what could have caused such an awful heart attack."

I got up from the stacks of books I was sitting on and crossed my arms.

He didn't want me to think I was better than him, he wanted to remind me that I was just like him. Maybe he was right, maybe that's why it was so easy for me to push Charles Pensford down the stairs and not feel a thing because I had done this before. Frank Higgins was not a good person and he shouldn't have walked into my room that night, he should have left. It was his fault.

I made a promise to Refugio that I would take care of myself and that was exactly what I had done.

"It was me or him." It was all I could say.

Grimm's gaze kept looking out the window.

Then he spoke, "Sometimes the only way to defeat evil is by becoming evil. I know you don't have a choice but to listen to this hateful heart of mine so, let's try to get along."

Somehow I understood his logic because there is a part of me that lives by that. Some people walked this earth too freely without facing the consequences of their actions. Some people needed a reminder and Grimm was the living proof of being that reminder.

You don't escape your unbothered life and believe you deserve peace.

I walked over to Grimm standing next to him. We saw the lights being turned off from here.

"You're right, I don't have a choice but I do think murdering someone together forms some kind of an alliance," I said.

His head slowly turned down to me, a tug pulling at the corner of his lips.

"It does, doesn't it?" He marveled.

Grimm might think I was doing this because I had no other choice and I said he is right but everything he said right now made me curious about him. I wanted to know more. I knew this was only the beginning of how Grimm's heart came to be.

The lights from the library were completely off now and everyone had gone home except there was only one person left in the building, the librarian. She was the one we came for.