It’s showing up for pre-order.
“Finn, why don’t you let our…guest…come inside?”
Finn fought the urge to grab the orin, grab it, loose the fire inside him and listen as its screams flooded the night around him.
Burn.
He just wanted to let the thing—and his own rage—burn.
But he stepped aside and let the demon see Will.
If he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have seen the tiny flicker of lashes, the minute tightening of facial muscles. Such a small betrayal of emotion, but it was like a neon sign.
Fear…
Demons fed on it, as long as it wasn’t their own.
And while one lone Grimm wasn’t necessarily enough to make one of the orin quake, all bets were off if the Grimm was the one who wore white.