"The Darkest Edge of Dawn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gay Kelly)

9

The parking lot at the warehouse had been sectioned off with crime scene tape. A patrol car minded the entrance. I slowed my vehicle and hit the button to roll down the window. After showing my badge, I drove through the barrier and parked near Liz’s black ITF van.

A chill hit me as soon as I stepped onto the broken pavement. The skeleton trees swayed in the wind as though reaching for the roiling darkness above. I pulled my jacket closer around me and approached the old brick warehouse, remembering the day before and the horrible smothering sensation that came with it.

The side door was open, the same door I’d damaged, but it had been repaired, the top hinge now screwed back into the doorframe. I hesitated, hugging myself and suddenly experiencing a weakness that I rarely acknowledged. All this raw power in the air, coating the entire city, all these changes happening inside of me, all of it could be overwhelming, immobilizing, if I gave it an inch.

I stepped inside to find the place lit up like a Vegas convention. They’d been busy. Cleaning up the debris, setting up lights and work tables.

I shoved my hands deep into my jacket pockets and proceeded down the long, ramshackle space. The smell was better, and even though I had a firm mental block in place, there was a distinct impression that the malevolence once claiming this area had lessened.

I saw Liz first, standing over a worktable, putting a small, ripped piece of clothing into a baggie with a pair of tongs, her glossy black hair curling beneath her chin as she leaned forward. Her color was good. Her aura appeared normal. And despite knowing that none of us could’ve predicted that Daya was a Magnus, a stab of guilt squeezed my chest at the memory of what had happened here earlier.

Elliot was farther down, removing small pieces of evidence, one by one, from the debris pile and then putting them into what appeared to be categories. Cloth, small objects, shoes …

Liz glanced up as I approached her table. “If you’re here for an update, you’re going to be disappointed. This place is a mess—it’s going to take eons to bag and tag everything. But I guess that’s a good thing. It’ll keep the Adonai reps at bay while we ID the bodies …”

There was no doubt that the remains in the debris pile were our missing Adonai. The telltale visual signs were unmistakable, and every other Adonai had been accounted for. Officially identifying the bodies was just a formality, but it would buy us some time. “Yeah, good thing …” I echoed quietly. “Pendaran hasn’t been bothering you, has he?”

“Just one blustering phone call wherein I was told to treat the body with care and respect. Don’t do this. Don’t do that. Return her as soon as possible. Yada, yada, yada … I actually finished with her late last night.”

“And?” My gaze snagged on an open cooler on a nearby table and what looked like a half sandwich in a baggie calling my name. “Hey, you going to eat that?”

She gave a small wave. “Nah, you can have it. Daya’s autopsy was a bust; not a single shred of evidence other than what we already know.”

Somehow I wasn’t surprised. I stepped to the cooler and snatched what looked like a ham and provolone on sourdough. “Keep me posted, okay?”

“Of course.”

I continued to one of the side walls where a figure sat at a small table, his silk-clad shoulders hunched, a lone spotlight illuminating the peculiar script on the wall. I stopped next to the table, eating, but my attention on the writing. The letters were in vertical order, not horizontal. The three columns looked similar to many different ancient scripts I’d seen before, but not quite the same either. The way each letter curved, the loops on the ends, the angle of the slashes—they were all different than what I’d come across before.

The more I stared, the more the script seemed to blend together, slowly taking on a linked pattern that looked very much like a complex molecular drawing. My chewing slowed. In the back of my mind I knew this wasn’t possible. I knew I couldn’t be standing there seeing the script moving on the wall. So what the hell was I seeing? I swallowed the bite and squeezed my eyelids closed tightly, hoping that when I opened them—

“Have you been practicing your breathing techniques, Charlie?”

It never ceased to amaze me that such a scholarly voice could come out of that good-looking package. I cast a glance down to the figure at the table. Aaron was a nymph, a loner since he wasn’t part of the Kinfolk, and a very capable crafter who’d earned his Magnus level in Atlanta’s League of Mages.

I smiled to myself, eyes still on the writing, as I polished off the last bite of sandwich, shoving the odd vision to the back of my mind. “All the time. Doing it right now.”

He snorted. “Mmm. Yes, I can tell.”

Ancient texts had been stacked onto one side of the table. One was open next to a writing pad where Aaron had started translating. “How’s it going?” I asked.

“The writing on the opposite wall is simple. Just a spell to hide the stench of the place. And we’re keeping that one intact while we work. But this”—he motioned toward the wall in front of him—“this is complex. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a root language. There are so many elements from scripts of all three worlds, that it makes translating it almost impossible. There could be hundreds of variations. The slightest change of spelling could change the entire meaning. The only thing that seems to be a similar variant is the word dawn.”

“Dawn. Any idea what it might have to do with our murdered Elysians of power?”

“Not yet, but the winter solstice is right around the corner. Major time for rituals. And what we have written here looks old, perhaps ritualistic in nature. The timing is certainly interesting anyway. I’m also looking into some of those words your corpse used. The ring. The star. Maybe we’ll find a correlation.”

He shook his head, leaning back in the fold-up chair and studying me. The emerald-green aura around him was bright and energetic. In the short time that I’d known him, it had become apparent that Aaron loved his work. Loved a challenge, too. This kind of thing was right up his alley.

“I got your message, by the way. The Elders said they’d make one more amulet and that’s it. Ask for another and you’ll have insulted their power more than enough.” He gestured to a pile of old crates stacked farther down the wall. “Pull up a box.”

I dragged one over, wincing as it let out a nails-on-chalkboard whine. Once I was seated, the nerves set in all at once. We stared at each other for a few seconds.

“What?” I finally asked.

“I sense this visit is more than work-related.”

My laugh contained no hint of pleasure at all. “You could say that.”

“Well, you are changing. Evolving. Things are going to be odd across the board, Charlie. So, what’s been happening lately? Still eating nonstop?”

“Carbs and protein, mostly. Can’t seem to get enough and I’m losing weight. Find out the answer to that one, and the hell with everything else—we could make millions as diet gurus.”

“Quite true. That’s your metabolism. Inside, your body is working overtime to stabilize itself. This is actually very normal. What else?”

“Well, let’s see. An Adonai serial killer broke into my house and raided my mind last night.” I laughed inwardly, the words sounding ludicrous. “He’s looking for something. Or maybe he found it, I don’t know, but I think he’s the same one who wrote that script,” I said, gesturing to the wall. “I think it has something to do with Mynogan …”

His brow lifted at my revelation, and his expression became intensely thoughtful. He nodded slowly, but his only response was, “Mmm.” And then, “What else?”

I picked at my fingernails, my mind going back to the bizarre flashes I’d had recently: the hellhound, the mirror in my room, the odd blood vessels I saw beneath my skin, and now the script on the wall. I took a deep breath. “You mean besides seeing a few seconds into the future where my partner kills a hellhound, seeing straight through things as if they aren’t even there, thinking my entire body is trying to tattoo itself with script from the inside out?” I shook my head, avoiding his insightful emerald gaze. “I turned a stuffed bunny into a tiny fur ball, Aaron.”

That sort of said it all.

Aaron angled in his chair, the light catching the silk sheen of his dark blue tunic. “I’ve been studying your case, Charlie, quite a bit in fact … and I’ve made a rather interesting connection. Mind you, it’s just a theory, but one I think you should hear.” He scratched the short black stubble on his chin, taking his time to choose just the right words. “What do you know about the Old Lore?”

I blinked, not expecting the question. “Not much. I know it’s some sort of ancient Elysian legend.”

“The Old Lore is a priceless collection of the oldest known writings in our world. These writings are based on a much earlier oral tradition about the pre-history of Elysia, and about the creation of our race and our world. The Charbydons have a similar Lore called the Creation Myth.”

“Okay. So what’s this have to do with me?”

“We know very little about our pre-history, but thanks to the collection we have, we know a few stories from this time period. It was from these early myths that our belief in a single creator evolved, a belief, in some ways, like your own monotheistic religions.” He shrugged. “You are familiar with the One God Theory.”

“That we’re all created by the same being? Yeah, I’ve heard about it.”

“Being. Deity. Metaphysical entity.” Aaron smiled. “Who knows. All we have are myths, and doctrines, and stories, just like you. Some chose to believe in them. Some chose not to.”

The theory had gained popularity over the years. The discovery of alternate worlds made a lot of people think or rethink—it was only natural given the circumstances. New theories popped up all the time, and faded away just as quickly, but the One God Theory appealed to many believers. I suppose if you believed your God is the only God, the creator of the entire universe and everything in it, then that would also have to include the off-worlders. The theory hadn’t put much of a dent into the existing human doctrines, but it did spawn new churches and more places for nondenominational worship.

“In any event,” Aaron said, “the coincidences in our religious doctrines and myths are quite compelling. The stories of the Old Lore, for instance.”

“How so?”

“One of the myths speaks of the first beings, First Ones, made by the Creator. The myth claims that inside of them was the genetic foundation of all three noble races.”

“Wait a minute. Three? I thought there are only two.”

“Besides Charbydon nobles and Elysian Adonai, the Old Lore claims that humans are the third noble race.” He leaned forward. “So one Creator gave rise to the First Ones, and eventually, from them, the three races sprang, evolved—there is nothing in what remains of the traditions to tell us how this happened or even what happened to the First Ones.”

Thank God this was all fiction. Try telling a noble or an Adonai that they shared a common ancestor, and you’d better have stellar health insurance.

I wasn’t a big history buff, but I did find Aaron’s words fascinating … until I realized where he was going with all this. My chin dropped a notch and I fixed him with a bland stare. “Please don’t tell me—”

“What exists inside of you, Charlie, might very well be the same genetic code that existed in the First Ones: the genes of all three races.”

I dropped my head into my hands and let out a deep exhale, then sat back, stunned and a little harried. “You’re saying I’m becoming a First One, a myth? You might as well tell me I’m an orphan from Atlantis.”

He laughed. “Remind me to tell you about Atlantis someday. Look, all myths are grounded in truth. It’s true I have no way of knowing if the First Ones were real or not, but if they were, if the myths are true like some people believe …” A shrug was all he gave to finish out that thought. “There’s no way to tell what you’ll eventually become, no way to know exactly how your body will process the new off-world genes you have. Your entire code is transmogrifying, morphing. It won’t happen overnight. You might eventually become a divine being like the First Ones, or something completely unique, something that all three worlds have never seen before.”

My mind came to a full and total stop. Just stopped, every thought, every sense replaced by lovely, welcoming white noise.

A singsong echo started. Distant. Two syllables.

“Charrr-leee. Charrr-leeeeee.”

Several bright flashes caused my eyelids to close tighter.

“Charlie!” Sharp, loud, to the point. I reared back, blinking rapidly, my brain scrambling to make sense of what was in front of me.

Two blurry faces. Up close. Peering at me.

“See there, she’s blinking.”

Flash.

What the hell?

“There. She’s coming out of it. Charlie!” The sound of snapping filled the air.

“Liz?” The two faces zoomed out and came into focus. Aaron and Liz. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Yeah. See. Told you,” Liz said in her no-nonsense tone, bumping Aaron’s shoulder and flicking her small flashlight on and off. “Good as new. Yell if you need me.” She flipped her hair behind her shoulder and marched back to her work station.

“Just a moment of shock, Charlie, nothing to worry about,” Aaron said. “I imagine it’s not every day one hears they might be evolving back into a divine being.”

There it was again, that white noise.

“Head between your knees,” he ordered gently, hand on my shoulder as my head went down and my hands covered my face.

Finally, my body started responding—heart thumping as though it had just restarted, chugging along, picking up speed. Chills spread throughout my insides and manifested as a cold sweat on my skin. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I muttered through my hands, not moving, too afraid I’d pass out.

“Like I said, it’s just a theory …”

“Your theories blow,” I said weakly.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Maybe you should go home, get some rest. You want me to drive you?”

“No, I’m fine. I need to get to the office. I’ll be okay. Just give me a minute.” Or a million. I couldn’t believe what Aaron had said. I didn’t want to be a “completely different person.”

“Is there a way to test this theory?” I asked, finally lifting my head. “No Divine Beings for Dummies at the library?”

“Very funny. I don’t think so. There is no way to test it except to keep evolving like you are.” His black eyebrows drew together in deep consideration. “An old Elysian proverb claims that the more at peace you are, the closer to the divine you become. Perhaps try relaxing, putting yourself into a deep state of peace and calm, and then see if you can duplicate these random occurrences you’ve been having. I’ll research more on the First Ones myths. Perhaps then we’ll see a similarity or a pattern.”

“Okay.” I stood. “Thanks, Aaron.”

“You sure you don’t want to rest for a while? I can take you home.”

I’ve got a Druid King threatening to start a war with the jinn. And a psycho Adonai claiming to be the killer of Daya and the others, one whose next victim will be just for me, I wanted to say, but instead I said, “No, I’m fine.” I gave him a tight smile, seeing no need to fake it, and turned toward the exit, letting my feet carry me on wooden legs down the warehouse and out across the parking lot to my vehicle.

The drive to the station cleared my mind enough for me to realize that no matter what Aaron said, there was nothing I could do about it. I had to go on, do my job, take care of my kid, and take things day by day. And despite feeling like I wanted to check myself into the nearest mental hospital, that’s what I did. Because when it came right down to it, I really didn’t have a choice. People counted on me; I had to keep going. And when my mind kept going back to his words and thoughts of divine, mythological beings, I refocused; I pushed those thoughts aside, pulled into the back lot of Station One, parked my Tahoe, and hurried inside, heading toward the elevator.

I used the small rectangular card attached to my keychain and held the bar code up to the scanner near the elevator door. The scanner beeped and the elevator door slid open just as footsteps echoed down the main hall.

“Well, if it isn’t the tri-world reject.”

Seriously? My eyelids fluttered closed for a second. I wanted to laugh, toss my head back, and ask the universe if she had nothing better to do than to fuck up my morning. I mean, so far it had been a doozy, so why not add another bit of crap to the mix, right?

Slowly I spun around on my heel, not bothering to hide my distaste or the fact that I was screwing up my nose as though a foul smell had just wafted by. I should just go upstairs and ignore it, but ducking out of a confrontation wasn’t exactly my style.

“Hey, Asston.”

Ashton Perry, ITF detective and former coworker, fisted both hands at his sides as his narrow cheeks sprouted red, mottled patches and the superior sneer on his angular face grew by leaps and bounds.

It wasn’t a big secret that Mynogan had brought darkness to the city or that Hank and I had been part of the attempt to stop him. The public knew what the ITF told them. But there were some in the ITF who were aware that I’d played a bigger role. That I chose to save my kid, instead of saving the city from darkness. Some understood. Some didn’t. But it wasn’t really my role that pissed off some of my former coworkers as much as the fact that Hank and I used ITF resources, worked on cases the ITF wasn’t privy to, and only answered to the chief and to Washington. And Ashton couldn’t seem to get over it. His eyes narrowed to small slits. “I will be heading the warehouse murders,” he practically snarled. “And you can tell the chief that.”

I took a moment to indulge in a heavy sigh and followed it with, “I’m really not up for a pissing match today, okay? And we all know mine is bigger than yours, anyway, so why don’t you go play Big Man with the noobs.”

A nasty sneer drew back the corner of his lip and his head cocked triumphantly. “How’s your daught—”

Before I could even think how wrong it was, I had him by the throat and up against the opposite wall, my speed surprising even me. His skin was so pliable under my fingers. I dug them in further, wanting to hurt him, to make him cry.

Ashton’s right hand grabbed the hilt of his service weapon just as any cop would do in this situation. And if it was anyone else, I’d trust them not to pull it, but Ashton was a hothead and had gotten increasingly hostile toward me. If he pulled his weapon, it’d be all over. For both of us. At least I had my wits enough to latch hard onto his hand with my other to prevent him from pulling the weapon and doing something stupid.

“Charlie.” Hank’s deep, mellow voice came from behind me, the same moment I felt the pressure of his hand on my shoulder.

My teeth ground together, one part of me knowing I had to remain calm and back off, the other part of me wanting to—“You mention my daughter again,” I ground out, “and I’ll rip your fucking tongue out and feed it to my hellhound.”

Perry’s long face was beet-red now, the pressure building as I continued to hold his neck tight, cutting off his circulation. Veins strained, full and angry, along his temples. Satisfied, I eased my hold.

Immediately he shot back, gasping, “I hope you sleep well at night, knowing you’ve annihilated the fucking planet.”

“It’s just the city, you moron.” I stepped back as he rearranged his shirt, clearly pissed that I’d touched him with my tri-racial hands. “And, for the record, I sleep just fine.”

“When they start taking over,” Perry continued, “don’t look for friends here. You damned us all for one stupid kid.”

I lunged for him, but Hank was faster, wrapping both arms around my middle, jerking me back and causing my feet to come clean off the floor. “Let it go,” Hank breathed into my ear as Ashton Perry had the nerve to laugh, despite his flustered expression, roll his eyes, and then walk out the back exit.

His disregard was a big ole fuck you, and it expanded my anger, pressing against my chest like a balloon about to burst. I swallowed the burn in my throat. “I’m going to kill him.”

“And you should know by now that he uses Emma because it’s the one thing that riles you. No one who counts believes you made the wrong decision.”

I knew that, but Perry’s words … Maybe he was right in a way. Maybe I had damned the whole city, and was just kidding myself that there was a way to fix it. To those like Ashton, the only thing that mattered was that I’d stood in that stupid circle, spilled my engineered blood, and called the darkness to save my kid. I shut my eyes, my body still humming, still experiencing that numb tingling associated with chaotic power. It burned. And it fucking hurt.

“Relax,” came Hank’s voice, so low, confident, and soothing, like a shot of whiskey spreading through my system. “Breathe, kiddo. You control it, not the other way around.”

Even with the voice-mod stuck in his neck, he still had a natural lure. No amount of engineering could snuff it out completely. My muscles obeyed, more willing to listen to him than to the anger that was already beginning to whittle away. I sighed. Then a thought occurred to me.

“You ditched me the other day.” I jerked out of his hold and spun to face him, still humming with power, just not as volatile as before.

“So?” He scanned his card to re-open the elevator door. “I needed to cool off,” he said, without a shred of remorse. “So did you. I did us both a favor.”

“Oh, please.” I followed him into the elevator. “Spare me your good intentions. Ditch me like that again and you’ll be hurting for weeks.”

Hank’s smug snort didn’t help the situation. He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted a dark blond eyebrow. “You can try.”

The elevator stopped at the fifth floor. “Thank God,” I said, stepping off. “The ego in here could suffocate an elephant.”

Our boss, and former chief of Station One, barreled out of the office we shared and marched down the hall like a formidable old bull in a black leather jacket. “Good, you’re here. I’m headed downstairs to—” He stopped midstride, dark eyes squinting and wide nostrils flaring as though he smelled trouble. “What did you two do this time?” Immediately his beefy hand went up. “No. Never mind. I don’t want to know. Downstairs,” he continued, striding past us and lifting up the file in his hand, “to meet with the brass. Washington pulled rank on the ITF, so we’re officially heading the investigation, and that crime scene is mine.”

No wonder Ashton was in fine form this morning.

The chief stopped at the elevator. “The guys downstairs have already briefed everyone—this stays under wraps as long as possible. Let’s just pray this doesn’t cause pigeons to start shitting rainbows over Atlanta. And Sian called in sick today, so I want you both doing the legwork, tracking down that love nest, the warehouse owner, and checking the database for matching MOs on the crime scene.” He stepped into the elevator. “Get to work!”

I slid my access key into the scanner. “Pigeons shitting rainbows? Where does he come up with that stuff?”

“Hell if I know. I stopped trying to figure out you humans and your sayings a long time ago.”

“Well, trust me, that’s no saying I ever heard.”

Our office on the fifth floor was, quite frankly, a huge mess. We’d taken up residence in a large suite used as a dumping ground for old or unneeded office furniture and equipment, using the discarded cubicle dividers and desks to carve out a serpentine path that led to a spacious corner near the windows and close to the small kitchenette.

The steaming coffee mug on Hank’s desk made the things I should’ve noticed earlier finally click: the unshaven jaw, the tousled hair, the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. “How long have you been here?”

He plopped in his chair and took a swig from the mug. “Long enough.”

“You slept here last night?” I went to the small kitchenette to pour my own mug of coffee, adding half-and-half from the fridge and grabbing a glazed doughnut from the open box on the counter. “What’s wrong with your place?” I happened to know Hank kept a very sweet, very expensive loft on Helios Alley.

“Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s who’s in it that’s the problem.”

I added sweetener to the coffee and stirred, coming back to my desk, gesturing. “Continue.”

“It’s nothing, Charlie.” He propped one elbow on the desk and scratched his stubble. “Just a little spat, that’s all.”

“With Zara?”

Zara was the concierge at The Bath House on Helios Alley. She was also a knock-out siren—weren’t they all?—who had as big a crush on Hank as he did on her. She was also part of the group that tried to get Emma back from Mynogan, so she was on my list of folks I’d go to bat for in a heartbeat.

Hank shrugged at my question and downed the rest of his coffee like it was the elixir of life.

“Well …?”

“Well nothing. That’s it.” He rolled his wide shoulders, faced his monitor, and then started tapping the keys, completely dismissing me. I glared at him, standing at the corner of our desks, which had been pushed back to back, until he finally stopped, lifted his reluctant sapphire eyes, and frowned. “Things have cooled off a little. No big deal.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I sat on the edge of the desk, cradling my warm mug and polishing off the doughnut, licking a few sticky fingers. “So what’s the problem? Maybe I can help. I’m good with relationships.” A bland expression came over my partner’s face, making me amend that statement. “Other than my own.”

He leaned back in the chair, swiveling to face me fully, looking about as enthused as a kid at a financial lecture. The dark shadow of his day-old beard gave him a haunted, rugged look that I found strangely appealing. His throat worked with his swallow and a faint blush crept from beneath the white collar of his shirt. “Just drop it, Charlie. We had an argument. I left, so she wouldn’t have to. End of story.”

I opened my mouth, so ready to argue the point, when he stopped me. “This”—he flung a hand toward the voice-mod on his neck—“doesn’t exactly help, okay? Now can we drop it?”

A frown screwed my face as I took a slow drink of my coffee. Surely Zara couldn’t be put off by the voice-mod being stuck on his neck. It wasn’t like it made him unattractive. Quite the opposite, in my opinion. The voice-mod made its wearer look like some throwback to Viking or Celtic times, when torcs hugged the thick necks of warriors and chieftains.

I slid into my chair and turned on my monitor, letting my curiosity go for now. “We need to talk to Ebelwyn, find out who owns the warehouse, and check out Daya’s work—might turn up something on her relationship … Pretty sure it wasn’t a jinn that killed her,” I said, my voice dropped to a mutter, “or any Charbydon for that matter.”

“What makes you say that?” Hank asked as I signed into the ITF database.

“Because I think it’s Llyran.” He scooted around the monitor in his chair, draping his arm across the corner of my desk. “You know, escaped serial killer. Lays low for a while. Adonai start disappearing and then found murdered.”

“I considered him, too. Stayed up last night reading his criminal file. The guy caused a lot of trouble in Elysia. Was officially banished from Elysia by the Adonai Council. Stole something big from the Hall of Records, wouldn’t reveal its location, was slated for execution, but killed his guards and fled. That was years ago.”

“What did he steal?”

“Officials never said. Then he gets here and starts killing. Indiscriminately. All races. Adonai, too. Every kill was unique. There’s no pattern that I can see. It almost seems like he was practicing, trying out different techniques and methods for murdering his victims, you know? The only reason he was caught before is because he didn’t try to be careful, or hide what he was doing. Didn’t care. Didn’t deny …” Hank sat back in his chair. “The guy’s a lunatic.”

Yeah. I could definitely attest to that.

“What’s the laugh for?”

“What?”

“You just gave a laugh.” Hank’s eyes narrowed. “A suspicious one.”

He wasn’t going to take this well, I knew, so I came right out with it. “Llyran broke into my house last night.”

Hank shot off the chair. “He what?”

“Mmm.” I took a sip from my mug. “Wrecked my bathroom, too. He didn’t hightail it back to Elysia after all. He’s been here the whole time. Said he killed our vics. He’s looking for something and seems to think I know where it is.”

“What is it?”

“I have no idea. I think he just wanted to show me how powerful he is, turn this into a game. Probably latched onto me when I saw him at Titus’s lab the first time.”

“Like he’s stalking you, you mean,” Hank said irritably, sitting back down.

“Could be. Who knows? The guy’s a Level Ten felon. Totally unpredictable. As you said, nearly impossible to profile. There’s no telling why he’s doing what he’s doing. He did mention a cause, though.”

“You think he’s our guy? That he’s not just taking credit?”

I chewed thoughtfully on the inside of my cheek, rolling around a pen on my desk. “Yeah, but I can’t shake the feeling that he isn’t alone in this. Whatever he’s doing seems grand. I don’t know. You had to be there.” I met my partner’s sober expression. “Something is different about him, about his power,” I began as evenly as I could even though my heart rate had kicked up. “He’s figured out a way to control the darkness.”

The color drained from Hank’s face.

“He summoned it, called it into my bathroom. He could’ve killed me, or taken me, but he didn’t …”

A low, astonished breath hissed through Hank’s lips. He rubbed a hand down his face. “And you’re okay? Em’s okay?”

“Everyone is fine. Brim ran him off. You know Emma can talk to him? Communicate with him?” The pride in my voice caught me off guard, especially after having been so overwhelmed by her revelation. Hank just stared at me, totally in a daze. “Yeah, I know, right? Welcome to the Madigan family, where strange is our middle name.”

He snorted softly. “You gotta stop with the bombshells this early in the morning. Don’t think my heart can take any more.”

“Well, lucky for you, that’s all I got.”

He rolled his chair back in front of his monitor, but I heard his muttered reply. “Trust me, that’s enough.”