Chapter Text
The funny thing about important days is that they so rarely begin with honest advertising. Some days you wake up, brush your teeth, eat breakfast, and go about your usual routine. And others are just like that right up until they aren’t.
Take today, for instance. Eddie rolled out of bed and into a push up on his carpet. Why? Habit, simple as that. He cracked his back as his bare feet padded against the hallway on the way to the bathroom. His teeth were pearly when he finished his ministrations, heading off to bathe.
Stepping out of the shower and wiping condensation off the mirror, the edgelord wondered what he should do with his silver locks today. With a sigh, he ran a hand through it until it was the usual sea of spires. On the off chance Nero was out of Fortuna and crossed his path, they’d have their usual bickering about who’s copying who and that was always good for a laugh. But no, the only one of his friends he expected to see today was Soloman.
Mr. Grimm was a rather interesting individual but then again all the people Eddie was on a first name basis were. Conversely his first name was the only one he had but that was just because he’d yet to find the time to go back to Scotland.
“Gotta write a to-do list one of these days…” He muttered to himself, the only soul in his art deco home. His voice had been described as wolfish once upon a time, and he couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.
After getting dressed, Eddie pondered over which handgun to bring. It was an entirely unnecessary part of his routine, something he and his handler had been telling him for some time now, but it was a piece of habit he couldn’t shake. The actual difference between his Sig Saeur and M45a1 were miniscule at their favored range but superstition cared little for practicality or logic. The sort of feeling that had tipped his hand and saved him over a lifetime of protagonist-esque adventure crept down his spine and he grabbed the M45a1 and slipped on its shoulder holster.
Even as Eddie donned his Oakleys and slipped into his car, that feeling hadn’t left him. Something in him screamed to burn rubber and throw caution to the wind, but that was a feeling he’d learned to suppress. The best way to kill anyone was to convince them to rush and he hadn’t made it this far without a healthy amount of fear. 150 horses of American Muscle rolled like thunder down his driveway and he started the half hour drive to the Grimm residence.
As he drove to AC/DC, Eddie mused if Fayette would be home for once. Don’t get him wrong, the reason he didn’t like the Bullet Witch had nothing to do with meeting her at the wrong end of a barrel, that’s how he met most of his friends. Hell, he and Solomon would’ve killed each other if they weren’t such good shots. No, the reason he didn’t like her, and don’t pardon his French here, was because she was a bitch.
Eddie had slept in snow banks warmer than her heart. The Witch spoke to Grimm, her fucking husband, in a manner one might employ for an especially slow puppy. And for reasons beyond mortal and mortal-adjacent comprehension the toughest, kindest, most reliable galoot that Eddie's ever met worshiped the ground she walked on. The air around her burned sinners because of how much holier-than-thou energy radiated from the Gun Bitch, the contempt for the fools who dared to breathe her air just as deadly as she was with a hand cannon.
But the worst thing about her, in Eddie’s opinion? The very worst thing was that he was glad he hadn’t killed her and that Grimm had fallen for her. Not because love was the cure for all that ails, he wasn’t a customer of snake oil, no cheesy schmaltz like that. No, it was the kid.
Zacharias Grimm, even at four winters young, had a bright future in front of him, despite his heritage. Maybe it was a blessing that Fayette had no kindness to pass down because that just meant that Zach had inherited all of his father’s. And, loathe as Eddie was to admit, the woman was brilliant but thanks to that her son was already bright enough to light a room. Or maybe that was just his smile, who’s to say?
As good a buddy as he was with Solomon, what Eddie was really looking forward to was seeing Zach running around the house, filling what had been a frigid marriage with a warm giggle and endless facts about whatever interest had caught his eye lately. Eddie had developed quite the sporadic encyclopedia keeping pace with the kid. He gave a glance to the collection of Norse mythology he’d grabbed from his last trip to Newfoundland. Grabbed from a barrow, that is. Religion historians would probably kill for it but he was more than willing to deny the world if it would get a smile out of Zach.
Turning onto their street, Eddie grimaced a little as he saw the Witch walking out the front door. Goodie, he’d have to actually interact with the harlot. She was walking in that measured manner of hers toward her personal car, sparing a glance to neither the house nor the the sound of a car approaching her. She slid into the back of the sleek, wine red convertible with a grace that led the mind to places that Eddie normally enjoyed, just not in her company.
Then he noticed the drops of fresh crimson on the pavement. As he removed his seat belt he surreptitiously removed the clip that restrained his pistol then slid Zach’s present into an inner coat pocket. Eddie paid the leaving vehicle not a cent of attention as he followed the little trail of vitae from where Fayette had disappeared and back to the house. He drew the gun and approached on silent feet.
The door hadn’t shut all the way and barely groaned as he shouldered it open with caution. Eddie couldn’t hear anything within his friend’s home and that concerned him greatly. Normally Solomon would be in the kitchen, crafting divinity drizzled with chocolate sauce or Zach should have been going over why dinosaurs had feathers instead of just scales. Silence was never the norm when those two were awake and neither slept in till 8, let alone the current noon.
“Grimm?” Eddie called, letting fear override stealth.
“Eddie?” And his heart cracked at how choked up, how broken the reply came from the Polish giant. The voice came from above and his coattails were like wings as he flew up the stairs.
Eddie very much wished he had shot Fayette when he had the chance. Not when they met, mind you, but he dearly wished he had murdered that woman in the coldest blood his fiery rage could manage. He wished a slew of grizzly ends and damnations on her immortal soul as he looked at what she had done to her own flesh and blood. He didn’t drop his gun in shock, he wasn’t an idiot, but he very nearly did for the first time since he’d begun his life of madness.
Solomon cradled the gently sobbing body of his son. His signature white jacket and slacks were ruined, splotches of liquid too similar to his red button up littering the clothing. His round sunglasses, hardly ever straying from right in front of his eyes, had fallen to the wayside as he tightened his grip as fiercely as he dared. Grimm didn’t look up as he entered, nothing could have moved that mountain of a man in this moment.
Zach’s face was covered in blood and shards of glass. Eddie vaguely noted the label of one of Fayette’s wine bottles off to the side in a puddle of alcohol that was too similar to the vital fluid for his liking. The largest shard, a sign of where she aimed said the forensic part of his mind, was sticking out of an eye socket. The boy didn’t cry, didn’t scream or shout, but the quiet whimpers that he did make were a worse blow than any Eddie had ever endured before.
With the kind of focus that was only sharpened in battle, Eddie holstered his weapon and grabbed a shard of glass. He removed a glove and opened his palm without pause, letting his own blood mix with the wine and the source of that dread in his gut. While he was no cultist and studied the occult only to break it, you don’t lead a life like his without learning a thing or two.
Words like Latin of the damned fell from Eddie’s lips and finally Solomon looked away from his broken son and at his friend. The barest hints of confusion colored the swirl of misery and anguish on his features but the ritual did not falter. After a few more grating syllables, the stench of brimstone replaced the bouquet of fruit and iron. A ring of sickly green fire surrounded Eddie before snaking out before him into an empty twin. The floor beneath it ripped itself open to reveal a chamber of ruddy stone and the wailing of sinners.
Shadowy smoke in vague, dark finery slithered from the hole and came to a stop a couple inches above the floor. It took in its surroundings with cat-like contempt before leveling its summoner with a malicious smile. All the damns Eddie had to give left with Fayette.
“Bargain time, demon.” He spoke and there was murder in his voice.
“I don’t recall giving you my Name, little mortal.” A feminine voice left the smoky silhouette, lazing through the air with only the barest hints of interest.
“Then you should be grateful that I’m returning it.” Eddie growled before pointing to the broken body of the young Grimm. “Fix him.”
“My my, how open ended.” The Sin purred, leaning as close to the child as the circle would allow. The summoner clasped his bloodied hand and the hellspawn recoiled.
“You know what I mean. I know that you are more than capable of honoring the intent instead of just the word. Do what you’re here for and you get your Name back.” The summoner barely contained his impatience with the fiend.
“You are either desperate or a fool to trust a demon so dearly, dearie.” The shadow flesh heaved as a biting chuckle left the creature.
The dam broke and Eddie approached in a rage. He wrapped his hand around smoke and it turned to alabaster skin of a fine neck. A gasp escaped her as shadow turned to snow and her hair cascaded down her scalp. The glove tightened and the entire weight of the demon was held by her neck, making the immortal predator of sin choke on earthly air.
“There is nowhere in that pit that you can hide from my wrath.” Eddie promised. “I will drag you from your hole and melt you in the holiest of waters, then I will steal your essence to do it my damn self. Do your job right and live or fuck it up and be obliterated.”
The immortal remembered that the only things in life that are certain are death and taxes, so she got to work with nary a peep once he released her. The smell of roasting flesh filled the room for a moment and Zach groaned in discomfort. Eddie was about to strangle the monster before the boy stopped and finally went to sleep.
The scars that he’d carry for the rest of his days were small and already the dull silver of old wounds, but far too numerous to miss and even still were too vibrant to mistake for freckles. Even with his lids closed in the dreamless sleep that came from such shock, it was easy to tell that one of Zach’s sockets was empty. Eddie rounded on his minion with demonicidic intent.
“There’s nothing I can do for the eye, I swear!” Her previously sultry voice was laced with the kind of fear that only the deathless had. “An angel could, or a saint, but this is all I could manage.”
With a houndish growl and a snap of his bloody fingers the demon was gone. He tried to recall her Name and found it gone from his memory and nothing about Zach’s sleeping form implied any kind of infernal taint. Something to watch for as he grew, Eddie noted mentally.
Dredging up the last of his discipline reserves, the edgelord stepped out of what he just now realized was Solomon, and previously also Fayette’s, bedroom. He headed for the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet. Taking the roll of gauze, Eddie wrapped his hand swiftly as he marched back into the room where Grimm was still holding onto his betrayed son.
With care no one would attribute to Eddie, he managed to pry one of Solomon’s massive paws off of his son to put the gauze in his palm. The big guy couldn’t look away anymore but still nodded once to show his thanks. All Eddie could think to do was squeeze his friend’s shoulder and sit on his bed. The weight of what had happened not even ten minutes ago finally came crashing down and he regretted having any respect for traffic safety laws.
“I’m gonna-” Eddie began to promise in a whisper, but was cut off by a small hand on his knee. When had Zach ever looked so small, so frail? Even as a babe in the massive arms of his father, there was something about him that made him seem tougher than the mountains, but here and now he looked to all the world like the broken little boy that he was.
What little fire Eddie had left died at Zach’s touch and the tears he shed for the boy were salty ice on his cheeks.
The police were called eventually, if for no other reason than formality. It was good to have friends wherever you go and thankfully the usual cop duo was at the Grimm residence promptly. They weren’t given an explanation for why Zach’s wounds, not even an hour old, were already scarred and old but they had come by often enough to know better than question details like that. They put out an APB for Fayette’s car, but Grimm and himself knew that it was a waste of breath.
Next was the hospital visit, Dr. Black rushing them through the lobby personally after Solomon had called her personal number. She did a thorough check up of the boy, physically and spiritually, and her results came back as green as they could, minus the eye and what not.
“No additional permanent damage, relatively minor scarring, and” Dr. Black put down her incense burner and wiped her brow with a grim smile. “As pure a human soul as one could wish for.” The solemn nature of her face stayed but the smile fled. “I’m so sorry Solomon.”
“Yeah.” He looked down at the sleeping form of his only child. “Me too.”
Eddie's mind was a storm. Foul intent lanced through his head like bolts of lightning, vows of vengeance wrought in thunder. He ran through all the bolt holes and safe houses that Fayette was likely to use, then the less likely ones. He’d just began to estimate the ones he’d never heard of when the weakest, smallest, tiniest of coughs escaped the resting boy and the storm finally gave way to torrential ran.
“Zach?” Solomon asked in a whisper gentle enough to be lost in a breeze.
“Hey Dad.” The youngest Grimm murmured as he left the cloying embrace of sleep. “Where are we?”
“You remember Dr. Black, right?” The big man gestured to the woman in the lab coat, who waved sheepishly and bit back tears.
“Hiya Doc.” The kid said, barely audible. He gained a bit of energy when light shimmered off the shock of silver hair and the man below it who leaned next to the doorway. “Eddie?”
“Hey kiddo.” Eddie kicked off the wall and stepped over to the table that Zach was laying on. He kneeled and put on what smile he could manage for the boy.
“What’s going on?” Zach looked around, both sets of eyelids wide open as he tried to figure out why the world looked wrong. “Where’s Mom?”
Eddie couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath at the kid’s question, looking away to hide the rictus frown the question brought on. Zach looked to his father and found his normally invincible dad looking away with heaving shoulders, even if he didn’t let himself cry. The former merc finally looked at his child and kneeled in front of him, his massive hand eclipsing the small shoulder it landed on. Grimm took off his shades and looked Zach in the eye.
“She left, Zach.” Once again Solomon proved himself the strongest man Eddie knew because he was sure that if he had to endure the look Zach gave his father in that moment he would have crumpled like wet paper. “And I don’t think she’s coming back this time.”
First came confusion. Then tears. And the instinct to try to wipe your tears away. Imagine the little boy’s horror when he finally realized he was down an eye for the rest of his life. Someday in the future, as prosthetics advanced, Eddie would spend months kicking himself for his rash, arcane solution that unfortunately also cleaned the nerves of the missing eye out of Zach’s head, ensuring he’d go to the grave a cyclops.
Dr. Black escorted the honorary uncle out of the room and the pair of them waited in silence as the broken family tried to scrounge up enough pieces to make it to at least the end of the day. Instead of letting himself wallow in should-haves and what-ifs, Eddie took out his phone and started making calls.
As far as children of prophecy and figures of violent solutions went, Eddie was an old man in a line where young men died, relatively speaking. He had friends and foes from coast to coast no matter what continent he found himself on, not to mention lands that were more concept than material. While he might not have legions at his disposal, he did have a tool belt of people with very specific skills sharpened over careers no lesser than his own.
If he had his way, there would be nowhere in the world safe for the Gun Witch. And Eddie always played to win.
He’d just finished his third call of hushed tones and dark promises when the doors finally opened on groaning hinges. Zach was wiping his remaining eye with a yawn, a simple black patch covering the other socket. The kid held his dad’s hand and served as the anchor that stopped Solomon from drifting into a sea of confusion, sorrow, and self loathing. Grimm normally didn’t wait for his son’s small legs, something about a lesson in being tough or some nonsense like that, but now it seemed like he was the one struggling to keep pace.
“Hey Eddie?” Zach croaked, his throat well worn from crying and questioning.
“What’s up kiddo?” Eddie tried to keep the pity out of his empathy, but wasn’t sure how well he managed.
“Wanna get some ice cream?” There were flecks of red in the kid’s eye, like bloody gold breaking through limestone.
“Sure bud. That sounds great.” Eddie took the proffered hand and the trio began to make their way out of the hospital, giving Dr. Black a quick thanks and wave.
“Thanks for offering to buy.” Solomon sighed and before Eddie could take umbrage the younger Grimm tried to stifle a snicker.
“Yeah. Course. What’re friends for?” He grinned and grumbled as the three of them started the long journey down the rest of their lives.