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

6

The minute I crossed the plaza where Mercy Street, Helios Alley, and Solomon Street converged, a huge sense of relief washed over me. Out of the drizzle, thank God. At least here in Underground, the darkness only rolled in via the fog when it rained heavily.

Underground was the largest off-world sector in Atlanta, with three main streets that divided the population. Elysians had claimed much of Helios Alley and a few areas Topside, just as the Charbydons had filled Solomon Street to the brim—the jinn, the Mafia of Underground, going so far as to carve out their own territory in the bedrock beneath the streets of Underground.

I headed for Mercy Street, the dividing line, the buffer between the two off-world factions. Mercy Street provided a nice balance of human, Elysian, and Charbydon businesses run and patronized by those who cared more about making money (or spending it) than old wars and endless grudges. Restaurants, shops, nightclubs, bars, spell shops, apothecaries—everything existed down here, and if your need was the slightest bit peculiar, supernatural, or off-world, you’d find it on Mercy Street.

As I strolled over the brick pavers that made up the carless street, my thoughts turned to my sister, Bryn. I hadn’t seen her in two days. And she hadn’t bothered to return my calls, though I knew from Aaron that she was okay. It was time for a visit.

I stepped around a sales cart on wheels that held an assortment of rough-cut off-world stones, and shook my head to the vendor, a goblin. For a second, my heart contracted. Auggie, one of my informants, had been a goblin—a bony, yellow-eyed, blunt-toothed, cash-loving guy with a penchant for spellmongering and gossip. I missed him calling my name from the shadows. In the end, he’d tried to protect me from three jinn warriors pushing ash on the street. He’d died for the effort, and I’d never forget him.

I went to open the door to Hodgepodge, my sister’s variety shop, expecting the tinkling of bells and to hear Gizmo’s squawk as he patrolled the comings and goings from his perch atop the bookcase by the door. I was slowly warming to the little gray gargoyle even though I held my ground on the fact that a spell and a gargoyle were no substitute for a real security system.

The door didn’t open.

Frowning, I pulled again, realizing it wasn’t stuck, but double-locked. What the hell? I tried my key, but it didn’t work. I cupped my hands and peered inside, then stepped back and noticed the small sign in the window.

“Closed until further notice?”

“Been closed three days now,” the goblin’s sandpaper voice called from his cart. Three days? My stomach dropped out, and he must have seen my alarm. “Oh, she’s fine.” He glanced up at the apartment windows over the shop. “See her shadow passing every once in a while.”

I stepped away from the door and approached the cart. “How often does she leave the apartment?”

He wiped the stone dust from his long, skeletal fingers, leaving shimmering gray streaks on his dark apron. “More information will cost you.”

The anticipation of money set his dull yellow irises aglow, and I smiled in spite of myself as I reached into the back pocket of my jeans with a brief second of hesitation. I was about to buy information on my own sister.

Bryn hadn’t been the same since waking up in the hospital after her forced ash overdose, and I was getting increasingly concerned.

“Here’s a ten.”

He licked his cracked lips and reached out, carefully pinching the corner of the bill. Once he had it, it went to his large nose, where he drew in a breath so deep that it sucked the ten against his nostrils. “It’s old.” He folded the bill and shoved it into his pocket.

“The new ones are for serious info. All I want to know is if she comes and goes and how often.”

“The Hodgepodge woman comes out once a day to take pizza delivery or delivery from Abracas.” He motioned to the popular restaurant and pub across the street. “No more, no less.”

Damn it. “Thanks.” I paused and turned back to the goblin. “What’s your name?”

His eyes went narrow, assessing, deciding if there was worth, a monetary future, in telling me. “Otto.”

I nodded and then walked past the shop’s main entrance, past the display window and a span of brick wall to the door that led to Bryn’s apartment over the shop. I had a key, but I didn’t use it. Juvenile, maybe, but I wanted my sister to get up, to show some fire, some interest in life. I pressed her buzzer and held it for a count of five. I was about to press it again when her voice came over the intercom.

“What?”

“It’s Charlie; let me up.”

“Use your key.”

“Just buzz me in.”

Silence. And then, “I’m busy …”

“What, taking the day off? If you don’t let me—”

The door buzzed. I growled, jerked it open, and then jogged up the steps. As I reached the small landing, she opened the door.

“Damn it, Bryn …” She was pale. Hair in unwashed tangles. Wearing boxers and an old Georgia Tech T-shirt. Dark smudges cradled her eyes. She looked … muted. Grayed out. My chest hurt.

A spark of annoyance lit her eyes, but she stepped aside, letting me into the gloomy apartment, the only light coming from the spastic blue glow of the television set.

Immediately I began opening the blinds for some street light as she plopped on the sofa and watched me with indifference before grabbing the remote and flicking through stations. Once the blinds were open, I grabbed a towel from the bathroom, dried my hair, washed my neck the best I could, and then replaced my shirt—since the collar was damp and reeked of hellhound breath—with one of Bryn’s clean, dry ones.

Her fridge held nothing but condiments and spoiled leftovers and a few bottled waters. I grabbed one, noticing the trash was overflowing with takeout boxes. Gizmo had curled his cat-sized body into an open pizza box on the floor and was snoring away.

I went into the living area and handed her the water.

Bryn opened the cap and took an angry drink, before leaning back into the cushions and drawing her feet up under her. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to shake her, to yell because the change in her was so extreme and I had no idea how to help her. I wanted my sister back, the vibrant, auburn-haired, freckle-nosed earth mage who walked around in flowing skirts and tinkling ankle bracelets.

“Please make an appointment to see someone.”

She laughed. “Who would you like me to see, Charlie? I don’t think there’s a shrink who deals with forced drug addiction.”

“So?” I sat on the arm of the love seat. “The point is to talk. You used to love to talk. All the time. About anything.”

A snort came from her pale lips, and she scratched her dirty scalp. “Yeah well, that was before I became hooked on ash.”

“Will you stop it?” I jumped to my feet. “Just stop it. You’re on ash because if you don’t keep taking it in regulated doses, you’ll drop into a coma and die. Just like Amanda and everyone else who survived using the drug in the first place.” I paused, trying to sound calm. “A few of them have formed a support group. Why don’t you go? Talk. There’s a meeting tomorrow. I can take you.” I sat back down on the arm of the loveseat. “Doctor Mott is going to figure out a cure, but letting yourself shrivel away like this”—I slid from the arm into the seat—“it’s not you.”

My head fell back and I shut my eyelids tightly against the rising tears, repeating that last sentence over again in my head.

I hated this.

The frustration made me throw up my hands and give her a defeated look. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry that it was because of me and Emma—”

“Oh my God. Enough with the guilt routine, Charlie. If you say you’re sorry one more time, I might actually vomit.” She got up and walked behind the couch, her hands braced on the back. “I knew the risks. I love Emma. I love you. It was my choice to go to that bath house that night, my choice to fight, and I’d do it all over again. Just … let me deal with this on my own, okay?” Her eyes drifted closed for a moment. Her shoulders lifted and fell tiredly. “I’m tired. Can’t you just come back later or some-thing?”

I stared at the wall for a long second. “Sure.” I shook my head, feeling exhausted myself. “I’ll bring some groceries in the morning. Before I take you to the meeting.”

“Whatever you want.” She shuffled into her dark bedroom and closed the door.

I left Bryn’s apartment, keeping my head down and my gaze averted as I passed the goblin, letting my steps carry me toward the plaza on autopilot, too overwhelmed with worry and frustration to notice much around me, just knowing I had to fix things.

The despondent aura surrounding her was eating away at her light, her spirit, at everything that had made her Bryn. My sister. The earth mage. The independent business owner. The much-loved aunt.

I didn’t go back into the office. Instead, I got my Tahoe from the back lot of the station and drove down I-85 to the outskirts of the city, to the grounds of Mott Tech.

The guards at the gatehouse waved me in now that I had a full-clearance badge.

The complex was Titus Mott’s baby—the underground research facility that allowed him to work on all of his off-world and human inventions. After he and his team had discovered the alternate dimensions of Elysia and Charbydon, he’d acquired the massive funding needed to create his scientific empire. But I didn’t plan on seeing Titus. Not tonight. I’d been coming here on and off since I’d brought darkness to the city, not even sure why I chose this place of all places to come.

The cool night air made me pull my jacket closer around me as I got out of my vehicle and headed across the parking lot, grateful that the inside lining was dry and warm. My footsteps shuffled over the flagstone pathway that led through the manicured grounds to the romantic Victorian-style pavilion perched on the edge of a calm lake.

The breeze was heavy down here, like always. I rounded the grassy edge of the water, coming to the idyllic bridge that spanned the small creek that fed the lake and led to the pavilion. A bench had been placed near the bridge and I sat in my usual spot, on the right side, facing the circular meadow where I’d first called the darkness. Where I’d fed on Mynogan’s blood, the blood of an Abaddon elder, killing him.

The center of it all.

I didn’t know why I kept coming here, envisioning the past, replaying that night over and over in my head, and taking out Grigori Tennin’s card from my inside jacket pocket. I like what you’ve done with the place, it said.

The small card had come with the flowers he’d sent via florist to the hospital just as I was leaving. The flowers were long gone, but the card I’d kept. It was wrinkled and bent now, but it reminded me of my place in this game. Grigori had had a hand in bringing darkness to the city; I just didn’t know the part he played. His card reminded me to be vigilant, to always watch my back because he wasn’t through with me. And I sure as hell wasn’t through with him.

I stared at the meadow, my gaze not really focusing on any one thing as I flipped the card slowly through my fingers, thinking about the victims in the warehouse. All Elysian. There’d be no one who would benefit more from a war than the jinn tribal boss. The entire tribe would be eager to fight and get back to their warlike ways. And while the jinn and other Charbydons would be battling the rest of us, Grigori would, no doubt, benefit from the distraction. Law enforcement would be completely overwhelmed, leaving Grigori to expand his many illegal endeavors.

That was worst case scenario. And Pendaran would play right into Grigori’s hands, starting a battle with the jinn over Daya.

A green flash snaked through the darkness above, lighting the meadow for a moment in a soft green glow.

I tapped the edge of the card against my cheek, opening my mind, letting in all the possibilities, all the paths this case might take, and where they might have originated. My thoughts turned to Llyran, the Adonai serial killer, a Level Ten felon who had escaped Titus Mott’s lab around the time I’d brought darkness to the city. Llyran had disappeared. No word. No sightings. He could be back in Elysia by now or right in my backyard, laying low.

Or—goose bumps sprouted along my arms—he could be killing his own kind. I hugged myself against the sudden chill. An Adonai killing his own kind? His own race? Seemed shocking, but why not? Humans had been killing humans since the dawn of time. The question was: did he have a motive? Or was he simply killing for the love of it, for a reason only understandable to the serial killer mind?

Pendaran’s ultimatum of one week—one week to find Daya’s killer before he confronted the jinn—grated on every last nerve. One week to find a serial killer powerful enough to kill not one, but seven of the most powerful beings in the city.

Hardheaded dragon bastard.

It was either lock the Druid King up and prevent him from waging war—which was guaranteed to cause serious injury to all parties involved—or find the killer. Or, I thought, biting the inside of my cheek, find something or some way to convince Dragon Boy to back off and let us do our job.

I slipped the card into my pocket and slouched further down the bench, bracing my boots in the grass.

A chuckle stuck in my throat as the realization of why I kept coming here, given the circumstances, dawned on me. This was the only place where I could just sit and not be bothered or worry about anyone else. This was the only place where I felt like I belonged, because, really, who else would belong at such a place except me?

This was the site where the warring genes in my body converged, melded, came together in one cohesive, perfect moment. Did I know that for certain? No. But it had felt like it. Thinking back on it, I was pretty certain Mynogan’s ritual was what gave me that sense of oneness. I’d heard the drumbeats in my mind and body. I’d been thrown back to a time so ancient it felt like the beginning of time itself, and in that moment I was whole, not fractured like I’d felt before or after.

So, yeah, I thought, looking up at the darkness moving slowly overhead, this was my place, my … creation.

I was an hour and a half late for dinner, but I came home decompressed and back on track. And after I ate and showered, I planned to log on to the ITF database and pull Llyran’s file. My footsteps echoed on the porch steps of my Candler Park bungalow, my stomach taking note of the warm spices leaking from the open window. The tap, tap, tap of claws on wood sounded beyond the door as I reached for the knob, preparing myself for yet another odd night at the Madigan home.

Brimstone greeted me from a distance, in the center of the hallway. His hairless gray body was still as his red eyes assessed me. His ears were up this time, instead of pinned back against his thick skull like usual, but his throat rumbled with uncertainty as he held his ground.

He shouldn’t be in the house. But then again, if Rex hadn’t routinely gone against my rules and let him inside to begin with, his scent wouldn’t have been on me earlier when the pregnant hellhound attacked, and I’d be just another body in the debris pile.

I sighed, ignoring the beast and removing my jacket, which desperately needed a trip to the cleaners after today, placing it, along with my weapons harness, on the rack inside the closet door. Brim sniffed the air behind me, no doubt scenting the female despite my dragon bath at the Grove and changing my shirt at Bryn’s. The smell was in my hair, on my jeans, probably on my boots.

“Brim! Come!” Will’s voice called from the kitchen, followed by a quick whistle.

The beast’s massive head turned for a quick second, and I could see his indecision. I pointed down the hall and took a step forward. “Go. Go on.”

He didn’t move. Another slow growl issued from his throat and he leaned back, bracing himself, his giant front paws spreading as they slid forward on the hardwood floor. The dark gray skin blended into the dimness of the hall, making his red eyes stand out.

“Move it,” I ordered, deeper, snapping my fingers and continuing forward. He turned tail and loped his tiger-sized body toward the light of the kitchen. “I’m going to turn him into a doggie popsicle if he doesn’t cut it out,” I said loudly, approaching the kitchen.

Rex stood at the sink, wiping his hand on a dish towel. He wore my ex-husband’s old State T-shirt. Loose jeans hung low on his hips, and his feet were bare. A defeated sense of loneliness and sorrow spread across my chest and squeezed.

It was hell sometimes—those first glances after a long day or after getting up in the morning. Seeing the body of my ex-husband walking around, his expressions, his smiles, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the deep southern drawl in his voice when he spoke …

There were moments, brief flashes, where I’d forget that a Revenant, a spirit entity, was in control, and I’d just see Will Garrity there—tall, athletic, and always with the smile that could melt snow.

Those moments hurt the most, and I tried not to let it show—how much I missed the real Will, and how much his decision to barter his body and soul to Rex, whatever the reason, had hurt. No matter what, no matter if we found a way to bring Will back, I knew now that it would never work, me and him. This final betrayal had broken the thin link between us.

“Hey, Charlie.” Rex turned around, bracing both hands on the sink ledge behind him.

“Brim is supposed to be in the kennel.” I snagged a water from the fridge and cracked it open, giving myself a moment to regroup before I turned back around. “That was the deal. I pay six hundred dollars for a reinforced mini version of Alcatraz, and you keep him in the kennel. Do you remember that at all?”

Brim had parked himself at Rex’s side, his jaw resting easily on the granite countertop as Rex patted his bald head. Was I the only one who got grossed out by the slobber trail on the countertops?

“Well, that was just in the beginning, Charlie. It’s cruel and unusual punishment to keep him back there all by himself when we’re in here. He wants to be with us. We’re his pack.”

I leaned against the edge of the kitchen table, the rim of the water bottle paused at my lips. “His pack? That damn thing growls at me again, and he’s on the next transport back to Charbydon.”

Rex shot me a nasty look and let Brimstone out the back door. “He’s not a thing. He’s a hellhound. He has a name.”

I rolled my eyes as he popped the lid to a canister of antibacterial wipes, snagged a sheet, and wiped up the slobber. He chucked it in the trash and then placed one hand on the countertop and one on his hip, frowning expectantly like Will used to do when I’d done something wrong.

“What?” I asked. He huffed in response, waiting for me to magically understand his problem. So I took a wild guess. “Um … sorry I’m late?”

An impressive snort came out of his mouth and his eyes rolled. “You’re always late—that’s why I always start dinner an hour after you say you’re going to be home.” Rex’s eyes grew round and exasperated as I still had no clue. “The garlic? The tomatoes? I asked you to get a few things …” He marched to the oven to check on dinner. The smell that erupted was wonderful. Lasagna or baked ziti, I guessed. “You know, I work all day long in this house and the least you can do is remember when I call.”

I heard the footsteps on the stairs and bit back my reply, waiting for Emma to come around the corner and into the kitchen. The mini bowling ball in her hands was a surprise. “Oh, hey, Mom.”

I stopped her as she passed, pushing her long, wavy bangs back to kiss her forehead. “What’s with the bowling ball?”

“It’s Brim’s. He’s torn up the other dog balls we got and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I stepped back. “You’ve been playing ball with the hellhound?”

I turned a murderous gaze on Rex as he pulled on oven mitts. “Well, they get along great,” he muttered in defense, knowing I was about to go nuclear.

“Mom …” Emma started in a tone that said she knew it, too, but I didn’t let her finish.

“No, Emma. I don’t care how great you get along. He’s a hellhound. They are trained to kill. They’re born with the instinct. I was attacked by one today—”

“You were? Did you hurt it?”

“What? No, I had her sent back to Charbydon.”

“Mom! That place is dying and—”

“How do you know their moon is dying?”

“Don’t you ever watch TV? And it’s not really a moon. Everyone just calls it that; it’s more like a white dwarf star. Or that’s the theory anyway. And now we have to do some stupid science report at school … Everyone has to come up with a hypothesis on how to …” She shook her head, realizing she was getting off track. “Sooner or later, someone’s going to have to go in there and rescue all those poor animals anyway. You should’ve brought her home. We could’ve set up another kennel next to Brim.”

I blinked, wondering if my daughter had lost her mind. Or maybe whatever the hell made Rex such a kook was catching. “This isn’t a hellhound sanctuary, Em. You can’t trust them. You turn your back on Brim for one second or look at him the wrong way, and he’ll remember he’s not Fluffy the Dog, but a killer, and I don’t want you to be in his path when he does.” I fired a hard look at Rex. “It stays in the kennel.”

“Mom!”

I didn’t answer, instead letting my angry footsteps carry me up the stairs. I refused to argue about it. The beast needed to go back to Charbydon. I was too pissed off to stay in the same room with Rex right now. He continually went behind my back and broke all my rules. What the hell was that going to teach my kid?

I removed my boots and jeans and then pulled on a pair of Lycra yoga pants and sneakers, stopping to look at myself in the full-length mirror to put my hair into a ponytail. Though my appetite had been insane the last two months, I’d still lost weight since the darkness ritual. Shadows lurked beneath my eyes, and I knew it wasn’t just weight I was losing. My body was worn out, tired of fighting on the inside. Having two opposing powers inside of me was taking its toll, exhausting me.

I gathered the long, wavy hair that fell to the small of my back. It was darker than Emma’s auburn-brown locks, but it fit my personality, and I liked the way the copper and mahogany tones mixed with the brown and matched my eyes. My lips pursed, taking the natural fullness out of them as I examined my reflection. My skin was paler. Hips a little thinner. But otherwise, I looked like the same old Charlie. Only exhausted.

A long exhale breezed through my lips, as my reflection dimmed.

What the—

My image completely disappeared along with the mirror, until I was looking at the wall beyond. I blinked hard, seeing strange linked patterns behind my eyelids. Damn. I must be more tired than I thought. I shook my head, knowing it wasn’t possible to see through the mirror; it was just my mind playing tricks. When I chanced a look again, the mirror was there and my reflection scowled back at me.

The back door slammed, echoing through the house. I stepped to the right, leaning toward the window to see Rex’s shadowy form in the yard below, leading Brimstone to the kennel. Emma’s door down the hall slammed, too, this one rattling the walls and making me flinch. Terrific. Now everyone was pissed.

I rubbed my hands down my face, hearing Rex return from the kennel. I thought about going downstairs to reinforce my argument. But it was pointless. I was right, he was wrong. And we’d do nothing but go around in circles. I was the parent. Emma might hate me for it, but my job was to protect her.

Trying to get through to Rex might be pointless, but my kid was another matter.

My need to have her understand propelled me down the hallway to her room. I knocked softly, wondering what had happened to the old days when she thought I could do no wrong and sought me out for the smallest comfort. She didn’t answer. I pushed the door open to find her lying on her stomach across her bed, using the large, brown, stuffed bunny Will had given to her last Easter as a pillow.

I sat on the bed. “Emma, you have to think rationally about this.”

She rolled onto her side, raising up on one elbow and looking down the length of her thin body to where I sat. Her finger twined around the bunny’s ear. “Mom, you don’t know Brim. You can’t say that unless you spend some time with him.” She sat up, cross-legged, pulling the bunny into her lap. “You’re the only one of us who hasn’t and that’s why he doesn’t trust you yet.”

“Can you hear what you’re saying? That thing has to trust me? You’re talking about a hellhound, Emma. Trust doesn’t exist with them.”

Her full lips went thin and her chin lifted, the stubborn expression reminding me of Bryn from earlier. She cocked her head as her eyes took on a challenging copper gleam. “Well how about trusting me, then? I’ll be twelve next month. I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t put myself in danger.”

“Not on purpose, no.”

Her mouth dipped. “He’s calm around me. I’ve been reading about hellhounds and they’re loyal to their packs, so loyal they’d die for them, and—”

“But we’re not his pack, kiddo.”

“We are,” she stressed, growing upset that she couldn’t break through to me. “He’s probably never even had a pack before. Daddy said they probably got him as a puppy and just kept him chained up all alone.”

“That’s even more reason to be wary of him. If he’s never been around a pack before, he doesn’t even know the rules, how to act, the boundaries … He’s a dangerous animal and should go back to Charbydon.”

I tried to soften the reality of what I was saying with my tone, but she just shook her head, tears shining in her round eyes, her cheeks flushing. “He wouldn’t know how to survive in the wild! Can’t you just try? For once, just try something someone else’s way? How about my way? I’m part of this family, too. I should have a say like everyone else.”

“Emma.”

“We’ll vote on it.”

“No, we won’t vote on it. This is my house, and my money that’s paying for Brim’s food, which he isn’t even eating by the way.”

“He doesn’t like dry dog food. Daddy even told you, but you don’t even listen to him.”

“Yeah, well, Daddy doesn’t know everything. Maybe you should start listening to your mom once in a while. I know some things too.”

She stood, clutching her stuffed animal and letting out a hurtful laugh. “No, you don’t! You don’t know when to trust your own daughter! Like, when were you going to tell me about Daddy, huh? I know something’s wrong with him. He’s not himself … and you know it!”

With that she flung the bunny at me and ran out of the room, slamming the door and leaving me sitting on her bed in stunned silence.

I hugged the bunny and glanced around at the room, the room of a very small girl—lilac walls, white furniture, floral quilt—but she wasn’t so little anymore. She wanted some independence, to make her own choices, and even to make this room her own by hiding what she called the “childish” wall color with posters.

My fingers curled around the bunny, digging into the soft fur.

Here I was spouting off good parenting, and I was still lying to my own kid.

All this time … there just never seemed to be a right time to tell her the truth about her dad. And then Thanksgiving had come, Christmas was approaching … There were so many reasons not to pull her world out from under her. And they were all excuses. In the end, there were no good reasons for delaying the truth.

And if her father had had an ounce of patience and a fucking spine and hadn’t sold his soul to a Revenant in the first place, we wouldn’t even be in this situation.

I wanted to choke him, to squeeze him into a little ball, to scream and cry and let it all out. But he’d taken that away from me, too. One final betrayal to mark the end of our relationship. My throat thickened and I blinked hard, blocking the tears from spilling over, and glanced down. What I saw made me throw the bunny into the air and leap off the bed with a shout.

My back hit Emma’s desk, almost knocking over her chair. The bunny landed on the bed and bounced, falling onto the carpet. What was once a stuffed animal was now a solid, fur-covered ball. Just like I’d imagined.

A hard shudder ran through me as my brain floundered to make sense of what I’d done. Same as the Abaddon chick I’d turned to ice for kidnapping my child. Hadn’t meant to, it just happened. My Charbydon powers went far beyond creating nightmares in the mind of my opponent, to being able to actually manifest those nightmares.

I hadn’t meant to. I lifted my trembling hands and stared down at my palms. What if I’d been holding my kid? My stomach knotted, and a cold sweat broke out on my skin. Dear God.

I raced from the room, down the steps, and headed outside, aiming for the track that ran around the soccer and baseball fields across the street.

Run. Just run. Don’t think, just run.