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

5

Another roar rent the air and shook the boards at my feet, making my legs wobble. I wiped the water from my eyes and then tilted my head back.

Well, no wonder he was the Druid King.

Torchlight glistened against black reptilian skin. The underside of his wings shimmered with blues and greens, like an abalone shell. My mouth had gone completely dry despite much of my top half being drenched with lake water. At least the treated suede of my jacket kept the wetness from sinking all the way through. I wanted to take another step back, but held my ground, really hoping this wasn’t going to be a case of “kill the messenger.”

Hank, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the show. He swiped a hand down his face, readjusted his shirt, and then dragged his fingers through his wet hair, looking part bored and part annoyed. Business as usual.

The dragon lifted its head to the sky once more and let out a sad moan that reminded me of a whale call, before sinking down into the lake.

Once he was gone, I wiped my forehead with the sleeve of my jacket and then rested my hand back on the hilt of my weapon. “You could’ve warned me.”

Hank shrugged, his gaze on the lake. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Ten seconds later, Pendaran slapped his big hands on the edge of the dock, pulled his hulking body out of the water, straightened, and strode past us buck-ass naked. “Follow me.”

What was left of my breath whooshed from my lungs as I turned slowly on my heel, watching him go, his tanned, wet skin practically glowing from the reflection of the torchlights. The entire left side of his body was covered in swirling black tattoos. The ends of his black hair stuck to his neck. Water dripped down his back.

“Close your mouth, Charlie.” Hank’s unamused tone barely registered over my sudden state of distraction as he brushed passed me and followed the Druid King down the dock and into his private sanctuary.

I’d seen a lot of things in my time, but this … A dragon and a naked god all in the span of five minutes. File this one under: unforgettable. I shook off the daze and hurried after them, falling in step with Hank and eventually entering what appeared to be private quarters.

The far wall opened to the lake via accordion doors. Sheer white curtains billowed in the faint breeze. Pendaran grabbed a towel from the back of a white couch, turned to us, and began drying his hair. His pecs bulged with the movement, leading my gaze to the black ink curling around the muscle. The lines and spirals and animal heads all interconnected from the top of his left foot, up his leg, hip, torso, shoulder, down his arm, up his neck, over his left ear, and finally disappearing into the hairline at his temple.

Looking at him was like standing in some natural history museum, staring at a larger-than-life exhibit on Celtic gods and warriors. His face was both beautiful and brutal, a visage that spoke of strength beyond measure, intensity I could not begin to fathom, and a lethalness that could fell a rhino.

And, obviously, like most Elysians, the guy didn’t have a problem with modesty. But then, why would he?

His cool, measured gaze fixed on Hank. “Long way from home, aren’t you, siren?”

Hank went noticeably stiff. “Could say the same for you … Druid.”

“Ah, but no one is missing me.”

I frowned, obviously not getting the innuendo. My mouth opened as I turned to my partner, but he cut me off before I could speak, his unreadable gaze still on the Druid. “Maybe you should go put some clothes on. My partner can get pretty sensitive to guy parts.”

I did a double take, sucking in an astonished draft of air. Heat stung my cheeks. My fingernails dug into my palms.

Count. Count to three and breathe.

I swallowed down the hot, dry lump in my throat and gave a careless shrug to Pendaran. “Seen one, you’ve seen them all,” I said. “Makes no difference to me how you want to conduct this interview.”

A glimmer passed through the Druid’s irises, revealing the same brilliant abalone color that had shimmered along the underside of his wings. He kept his thoughts to himself, tossed the towel on the glass coffee table, and then disappeared into another room. At least one guy around here knew when to keep his mouth shut.

The second he was gone, I whirled on Hank, trying to keep my voice to a low, infuriated whisper instead of the scream that pushed at my throat. “What the hell was that?! I have a job to do, same as you—” I stopped and closed my eyes. Showing any kind of weakness, especially feminine weakness, would completely diminish me in the eyes of the Druid, and Hank knew that.

I opened my eyes to see my partner’s lips pressed tightly together, and something like regret passed so quickly through his dark expression that I wondered if I had imagined it. A hard, unreadable mask slid over his features. The only sign that he felt anything at all was the repeated flex of his jaw.

I couldn’t read his face, but I sure as hell could read his aura, and the tense energy coming off of him was unmistakable. But whatever was going on with him, or had prompted him to act like a first-rate asshole, was no excuse to say what he had.

“If you ever put me down or diminish my abilities again when we’re working,” I hissed, “I swear to God I’ll lay you flat on the floor right then and there, or die trying.”

His only response was a curt nod.

I gave him another astounded look, shaking my head, because as bad as Hank got sometimes, he’d never done anything like this before. Ever.

I didn’t have time to speculate more because Pendaran returned, barefoot, but dressed in black drawstring pants and a white T-shirt. And yeah, I wasn’t going to lie—him being dressed was going to make this a hell of a lot easier.

He went behind the granite countertop in the kitchen area, opened the fridge, and grabbed a beer, sticking the end in his mouth, biting off the cap, and then spitting the cap into the trash can. After a long drink, he set it on the counter, one hand wrapped around the bottom of the bottle and the other flat on the countertop.

“I see it hasn’t taken you long to acclimate,” Hank noted.

He pierced us with a hard stare, black eyebrows furrowing together, and ignored Hank’s comment. “Daya is dead.” Another drink. “How?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out, Pendaran,” I said. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Most call me sire.” A flash of arrogance tilted the corners of his mouth. “Last time I saw Daya was yesterday morning in the temple.”

I kept quiet, letting Hank take the next round. “She work in the city?”

“At the Fernbank Museum, yes. Daya restores art.” I saw it the moment he realized he’d spoken in the present tense, as though she was still alive. His jaw clenched and he took another swig. “Daya just received her Magnus level in crafting. She was three hundred and eighty-nine years old, never mated, has one sibling, and no children. Anything else?”

“Was she in a relationship?” Hank asked. “Have any friends outside of the Kinfolk that she hung out with?”

Pendaran shook his head, straightened, and leaned back against the counter behind him. “No.”

Completely absolute. His response was like saying grass is green, so sure he was in his knowledge. But then, he wasn’t the Druid King for nothing. Nymphs in general didn’t exactly make a big attempt to foster any ties outside of the Kinfolk, and they rarely mated outside of their own race. Their pack-like mentality meant that whatever happened within their circle, Pendaran would know about, even something as mundane as who liked who.

Fine. Moving along. “And the sibling?”

“A brother. Orin. He moved here from Elysia last year.”

“Did she keep an apartment in the city?” Hank asked. The only thing we had to go on was the apartment from Daya’s final memories. I wanted to cross my fingers that he’d say yes.

Pendaran let out a snort. After another swig, he tossed the empty bottle in the trash can. “Kinfolk do not live outside of the Grove unless they’re loners. She lived here like everyone else.” His eyes narrowed on us for a hard, calculating second. “How did she die?”

My thoughts went back to the dragon screaming at the sky. The last thing I wanted was to have him go all medieval and scaly again. “We’re not sure yet.”

“Murder?”

“It’s too early to say, but we’d like to take a look at her apartment.”

One corner of his mouth dipped down. He knew I was bullshitting him. But he let it slide and pushed away from the counter and marched to the door. “Come.”

We followed him from the private apartment to the main hall surrounding a large open-air courtyard with trees, gardens, and a fountain in the center where several nymphs were gathered. Heads bowed in respect as he strode by and stepped onto a raised area topped with a vine-covered pergola and fire basins on each side. Within the pergola there were chaise lounges and chairs but he remained standing, a commanding presence over the courtyard.

All eyes fixed on their king. No one spoke. The sound of the fountain became extremely loud, and the faint sounds of traffic invaded the courtyard.

Hank and I waited.

“Daya is dead,” he announced without preamble.

Horrified gasps lifted in unison. Immediately a male nymph shot to his feet, his face draining of color. “No.”

I focused on him, taking in his body language and aura. “Did you know her well?”

The nymph flicked a questioning glance at his king, waiting for the slight nod of approval before answering. “She … was my sister.” His voice broke, but his chin lifted a notch. “My twin.”

My entire brow rose, and my gaze went to Pendaran. Orin’s sister was dead and this is how he tells the poor guy? Guess leadership and empathy didn’t go hand in hand here in nymph territory.

“Orin,” I began, allowing the sympathy I felt into my tone. I’d had a twin. I knew what it was like to lose your other half. I’d never get over Connor’s death. Never. And I knew that, after the shock wore off, Orin was in for a lifetime of grieving where Daya was concerned.

Hank took over when I failed to expand on the sentence I’d started. “Did your sister have a second place outside of the Grove or maybe a friend she stayed with sometimes?”

Orin’s glassy gaze went from me to the ground where he stared intently at the grass cradling his bare feet. A tear slid down and hung off his chin before he sniffed and swiped it with the back of his hand. “No.” His answer was barely audible.

“Was she seeing anyone?” Hank asked.

Orin’s eyes closed slowly. His face went a shade paler. The air in the courtyard flared from grief to fear, and panic. Underlying it all, I detected a faint wisp of aura gathering. It pricked the hairs on the back of my neck. I glanced around and my gaze found Pendaran. His nostrils flared slightly. His arms were crossed over his chest, legs braced apart. “Answer the question,” he said.

What seemed like a simple command came across as a power-laced demand that echoed soft and deadly through the courtyard.

Orin dropped to his knees, head bowed so low his forehead touched the grass, trembling like a leaf in a windstorm. “Yes, Sire, she was involved with someone. I’m sorry. She asked me to keep her secret, and I did. I’m so sorry.”

The guy’s anxiety didn’t sit well with me. I’d learned a lot about the nymphs and their culture through the years, but being ruled through fear was not one of them. I shifted my attention back to the Druid. “Is having friends outside the Kinfolk a crime?”

“No.” His gaze leveled at me. “Cavorting outside of the Grove is not a crime. However”—he turned back to Orin—“lying is. If Orin has lied or withheld knowledge of a broken law, I have no other choice but to punish him. He knows this. It has been our way since before you humans started drawing on cave walls with sticks.”

I returned the arrogant smirk that accompanied Pendaran’s words with one of my own, only making it way more obvious than he had. Subtle, I was not.

“If Orin is too afraid to speak,” Hank said, “then it’s quite possible more of your Kinfolk will die … because whoever killed her is not going to stop.”

Well, that was just great. He just told the Druid King and everyone here that Daya had been murdered. What the hell was he doing?

My heart pounded, low and deep, so deep it felt as though the entire grove pulsated. No. It wasn’t me. Was it the henge? The Druid King? Feeding off one another? I didn’t know. Hell, I didn’t care.

Pendaran’s stance remained the same, but somehow he seemed to have stilled even more, going absolutely quiet; the only movement was the shimmering wave within his irises.

Please don’t shift. Please don’t shift.

I didn’t realize my hand rested on my weapon until my fingers flexed around the hilt. Pendaran finally pulled his ancient gaze off Hank and turned to the courtyard as a whole. “Orin will do service.” His eyes found mine. “That is the best I can offer.”

Great. Wonderful. The pulse in the courtyard dimmed, but not entirely. I turned my attention to the prone nymph, wanting to get this over with so we could get the hell out of there. “Orin?”

“Forgive me, my lord,” he mumbled before looking up at us, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow. “Daya was sharing an apartment … in Underground … with someone.” He paused. “A jinn.”

The shockwave that swept over the courtyard left everything in its wake motionless and dead quiet, so silent that the pulse was gone and the distant sounds of the city trickled back into the bereft space. A jinn. Jesus, no wonder Orin was terrified! A nymph going outside of her own kind wasn’t unheard of, but going over to a completely different world, a Charbydon? A jinn? Yeah. This was bad.

“Where, Orin? Where did they meet?” Hank’s soothing tone invaded the space like it was the most natural thing in the world, creating a faint but calming shift in the volatile atmosphere.

“They kept an apartment somewhere near Underground. That’s all I know.” He sniffed. “She was a good person. If the jinn found out … Dear Dagda, they killed her, didn’t they?”

“I don’t think this has anything to do with the jinn,” I said. And I prayed to God it didn’t. I pulled out a card with my contact info and handed it to Orin. “In case you remember anything else.”

“I expect her body to be returned to us immediately,” the Druid said.

I flinched inside, thinking about the hand I’d severed, though it was no worse than the rest of her. “We’ll see that you have it by morning.”

“You have one week,” Pendaran announced. “One week to find Daya’s killer.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Seven days or we seek retribution from the jinn.”

A disbelieving half snort, half laugh sprang from my mouth. “Seriously? Because I didn’t peg you for an idiot.”

The nymphs fled the courtyard in a blur of gossamer and bare feet, disappearing into the darkness and mist, and leaving me with the sudden realization I’d said that thought out loud.

Shit.

The eerie abalone glow passed through the Druid’s eyes again. I swallowed as he unfolded his arms and stepped off the dais, striding slowly forward. Toward me. My stomach dropped to the bottom of my gut. Hank cleared his throat, and I cast a quick glance to my right to see his hands clamped behind his back, and his attention on the ground in front of him, a small grin tugging the corner of his mouth.

Well, apparently my partner wasn’t too worried I was about to be dragon flamb#233;.

Pendaran stopped in front of me, forcing me to crane my neck. The guy was tall. “You seem to understand very little about the Kinfolk, Detective. And even less about etiquette … off-world or human.”

My lips twisted into a cynical smile, and I bit off the smart-ass reply on the edge of my tongue because, quite frankly, I couldn’t argue with that assessment. I gave a quick, indifferent shrug. “That may be so. But you’re well aware how tense the city is right now. If you go storming into Underground, an Elysian pointing the finger at the entire jinn tribe, that’s it … it’s game over. For all of us.”

He crossed his large arms over his chest, jaw set and freakish eyes turning hard like cold, polished stone. “One week.”

The finality in that imperious tone made my teeth clench hard as I tried to maintain control and prevent another outburst. But, damn, how I wanted to wipe that overbearing superiority off his face. “Then we expect complete and total cooperation. That means no contact with the jinn from you or any of your Kinfolk while we investigate. None.”

“Done.”

After Pendaran’s ultimatum, Orin led us to Daya’s apartment in the Grove, where we found squat. Not a single shred of evidence. With every step back toward the gate, my mood plummeted. I was still riled by Hank’s comment earlier, and the Druid’s unyielding manner. Then my cell rang. The number on the display only made things worse. “What?”

“Oh, good. Listen, Charlie, I need you to pick up some toothpaste, a can of diced tomatoes, and garlic—not the powder stuff, the whole head. Oh, and can you get a few pounds of meat for Brim?”

“Rex. I am working right now.”

“So? What do you think I’ve been doing all day? Who do you think does the laundry and the cleaning and the cooking? Revenants can’t just point a finger and say ‘presto’ and everything is clean.” A loud sigh blew through the phone speaker. “What time will you be home?”

I closed my eyes. Deep breath, Charlie. “I have no clue.”

“Well, just an idea. So I can have dinner ready …”

I rolled my eyes and tossed up an annoyed hand, plucking a time out of thin air. “Six forty-seven.”

“Oh, funny. Ha, ha. Just make sure you stop by the store.”

“Fine.”

Hank was already clearing his throat before I could get my phone back on my hip. As if Rex didn’t add enough disorder to my life, my partner seemed to take great pleasure in razzing me about living with a Revenant who thought he was the love child of Laurence Olivier and Julia Child, a Revenant currently occupying the body of my ex-husband. And, to top it all off, I still hadn’t found the right way to tell my daughter that Daddy wasn’t really Daddy anymore.

Hank’s mouth opened, one syllable came out, and I said, “Don’t talk to me.”

Rex’s call hadn’t detracted from my absolute fury at Hank. In fact, it just added fuel to the fire. We went a few more strides and then I changed my mind. Screw this, I wanted an explanation. “You mind telling me what the hell that was back there? And for the record, I’ve seen plenty of naked men in my time, okay, and I can do my goddamn job just fine.”

He shoved his hands inside his jacket pockets and let out a tired breath. The drizzle was slowly turning to a soft rain. Fog swirled at our feet. “You wouldn’t understand.”

A sharp laugh burst from my throat. “Oh, right. What is it?” My stomach was already sinking before the words rolled out of my mouth, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Feeling a little emasculated now that your powers are gone, so you have to make me powerless too?”

He stopped and grabbed my shoulders, scowling down at me and barely containing the firestorm behind that tight, furious mask. Heat leaked from his being, swamping me into a startled silence. “Do I look emasculated to you?”

I swallowed and looked. Six-four. Two hundred pounds. Radiating a thick haze of wrath that would’ve cowed anyone else. For the most part, I was fairly immune to the natural lure of sirens. Yeah, they drew my eye, but they drew everyone’s eye. I’d gotten used to my partner’s I-was-made-to-seduce-you-and-please-you appearance … unless he made me take another hard look. Like now.

“Yeah,” he practically growled. “Didn’t think so.”

The cool night air washed over me as he stepped back and then stormed down the path. I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, surprised by how fast my heart was beating, and how quickly I could turn the tables and become a first-rate asshole just like he’d been earlier.

Way to go, Charlie.

I hunched my shoulders against the rain, folding my arms in front of me and quickening my pace.

The sirens living on our world were required by law to wear a voice-mod, a torc-like device, around their necks for everyday public interactions, since the power that often leaked into their voices was far too entrancing and distracting for the rest of us to function properly, and it was difficult for most sirens to control it, or to remember to control it, on their own.

It made me feel like shit to know Hank’s greatest power, the very thing that made him who he was, had been caged inside of him. Hank was my lion—big, intensely beautiful, exuding an easy confidence and mellow demeanor that could only come from being near the top of the food chain. Except now he was shackled by the voice-mod and way more ill-tempered than usual.

The same dark figure that had guarded the gate before stepped out of the shadows at my approach, the tip of a cigarette glowing bright and orange, then slowly disappearing. He pushed open one side of the gate for me to pass. “Your friend already left,” he said with an amused tone. I stopped, spinning on my heel as he gave a low chuckle. “Wouldn’t want to be you right now … or him, for that matter.” The gate shut, and the dark-clad nymph disappeared.

No car. Hank had deserted me.

Fucking hell.

Not that I didn’t deserve it.

After standing there, hands on hips, for a good ten seconds, I released my damp hair to re-knot the long length tighter and more orderly than before—no thanks to Pendaran’s dragon-out-of-water routine. I then began the hike down Tenth toward West Peachtree to catch the MARTA.

The constant darkness, the constant tingle, the constant volatile mood coating the entire city had become exhausting. I needed another lesson with my warlock teacher, Aaron. And no meditating. I needed to fight, to release some of the built-up power in my body, or I was going to completely lose it.

That, or lose my life like those other poor souls who’d been lab rats for Mynogan.

They’d come before me, but had been unable to handle the DNA of two different races injected into their bodies at once. It tore them apart from the inside out. So far, my body was handling it due to ancient bloodlines of both Elysia and Charbydon DNA already in my family tree. Mynogan’s gene manipulation had been successful, had brought me back to life, and had created a being capable of summoning primal darkness with a gift of blood. I’d done what I’d been created to do, but one day, just like all the others, the two opposing powers inside of me would take their toll. It was just a matter of time.

Relax. Center yourself like Aaron taught you.

The walk helped ease some tension from my shoulders, despite the rain. I loved my city, the people, the traffic, the noise. Yes, there was a freakish, supernatural mass of gray overhead that was making life pretty difficult, but beneath it, Atlanta still thrived in a sea of colorful lights that burned day and night. The darkness would never change the fact that this was my home, and I’d love it regardless.

I decided to get off at the Five Points Station and head into Underground before returning to the station. Hank was probably sitting in his office chair with a mug of coffee and his face planted in front of his computer screen, thinking I’d show up at the station any minute.

Whatever. I didn’t care.

Okay. I did care. And it pissed me off.

I replayed the scene over in my mind, trying to figure out why he’d even say such things about me. And then a thought occurred. He’d thrown me off the scent. Distraction Techniques 101. He’d known the right words to say to get me to stop the questions that had been gathering about him and Pendaran. How it seemed like the Druid knew Hank, or knew of him. That had to be it, because Hank being a jerk just for the hell of it didn’t sit well with me. The stuck voice-mod couldn’t have changed him that much.

Maybe his reputation in Elysia preceded him. Charbydons came to Atlanta for obvious reasons—their world was a hot, crowded, hellish place, and it was slowly dying. Elysians, on the other hand, lived in a heavenly paradise. Didn’t seem like a place anyone would want to leave, unless you were running from something, or wanted an escape, or your own territory, or were simply following leaders or loved ones.

I never really questioned why Hank had left Elysia.

Maybe I ought to start.