"The Better Part of Darkness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gay Kelly)

CHAPTER 2

Underground Atlanta was the hub of off-world activity in the city, an entertainment, shopping, and living district that encompassed six city blocks in the very heart of old Atlanta. In the 1920s city engineers built bridges and viaducts over old, Civil War—era railroad tracks and streets, raising the street level and eventually leaving the ground level almost forgotten until the city revived the area in the late 80s and early 90s. Now it was home to free concerts, restaurants, bars, nightclubs, and specialty shops.

One of those shops belonged to my sister. And, yeah, I could’ve called her to see if she’d babysit, but since her shop was on Mercy Street, it would give me a chance to talk to one of my informants.

Bryn’s place sat in the middle of a long row of shops that lined the left side of the street. There were potted plants out front, a chalkboard sign on the sidewalk advertising sales, and a few wind chimes hung from tall, ornate garden stakes shoved into the planters on either side of the door. I thought she was nuts for having a shop in Underground. But Bryn had some serious smarts when it came to business. She carried items the off-worlders craved, like crafting items, exotic herbs, minerals, rocks, and other trinkets, and she made sure to stock things humans could use as well—anything Wiccan. Books, antiques, charms, clothes … But mostly she specialized in herbs, the rarer the better.

I stepped around a three-foot-tall imp carrying a Gucci handbag and approached the back counter. Bryn had her back to me, snipping a few branches from a small potted herb as she spoke to it softly.

“Probably not a smart thing, to turn your back on the customers,” I said, looking around at the patrons. The store was packed with plants, items, baskets, and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, so many corners and dark shelves; you couldn’t see a shoplifter at work if you tried.

Bryn turned. “I have a security system.”

I frowned at her and leaned on the counter. “A spell is not a security system.” When would she learn to take care?

She shook her head, looking awfully like Mom when she did that. Her auburn hair had been twisted up into a sloppy arrangement, and her brown eyes held a smile as usual. “Well, I also have Gizmo.” She nodded behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to see a gargoyle, the size of a large cat, perched on top of a tall, dark bookshelf by the door. His head moved with the flow of patrons, watching them closely. “You got a gargoyle? Are you insane?” I held up my hand. “No, wait. Don’t answer that.” Gargoyles were notorious for misbehaving, like little demon monkeys, always chewing on things, jumping around, making messes. I shook my head. They were also incredibly pricey. “Where’d you get the money for him?”

She leaned over the counter, getting closer and smiling as though she’d pulled off the coup of the century. “I traded a five-pound bag of Elysian sea salt, a box of rare Tibetan incense, and that old petrified toad I had sitting on the counter.” She straightened, going on the defensive. “And he’s perfectly trained, so wipe that prune-y old look off your face. You’re gonna get two wrinkles right between your eyebrows just like Grandma Eunice.” She reached out and used the pad of her index finger to vigorously rub the spot on my forehead.

I swatted her away, stepping out of reach. “Will you cut it out? God, you’re just like Mom.” I felt the frown return and made an attempt to ease my facial muscles. The last thing I wanted was to end up looking like Grandma Eunice, God rest her soul. “Speaking of which, have you heard from Mom and Dad?”

Bryn popped a few Mamp;M’s from a small bowl by the register into her mouth and then held up a finger. From under the counter, she pulled a postcard. “They sent you one, too. Don’t you ever check the mail?”

“Occasionally.” I took the postcard. One side was a photograph of the Giza plateau in Egypt and the other side had a few scribbled lines about how hot the desert was and how beautiful sailing down the Nile had been. Next stop: Turkey. I slid it back to her. “Any idea when they’re coming back?”

She shrugged as I stole a handful of Mamp;M’s. “Your guess is as good as mine. Probably another few months, unless they find somewhere else they want to go.”

Mom and Dad had saved their entire adult lives for this trip. They’d moved all their furniture into storage and rented me their three-bedroom bungalow in Candler Park, which worked out well since Em and I had already been shacking up in the spare bedroom after the divorce. Plus being in midtown, it was closer to Emma’s school and not too far from downtown. More power to them, I thought. They deserved to travel the world for as long as they liked. I missed the hell out of them, but it helped that I had Bryn. She reminded me so much of Mom, it was scary.

Bryn was also a gifted earth mage. Even growing up she’d been able to do things—make plants grow and bloom by talking to them or touching them. After the Revelation, what we called the discovery of the new dimensions, she’d begun to take her talent more seriously, and she utilized the new resources to study and learn and cultivate her abilities. Last year, she became the first human member of the Off-World Garden Society and the Atlanta League of Mages.

A high-pitched scream exploded behind me.

Instinct sent my hand to my gun. It was already drawn and pointed in the direction of the scream before my vision landed on the source. My heart pounded as Gizmo flew off his perch and hovered in front of the imp I’d passed earlier.

“Jeez, Charlie, put the gun away, you’ll scare my customers.” Bryn pushed my gun down and hurried around the counter toward the imp. The hem of her sundress flapped behind her, making me notice her bare feet and trim ankles encased by two sparkling charm anklets.

“Me?” I holstered my weapon, trying not to dwell on how ready I’d been to pull the trigger. “That thing just blew out every eardrum from here to Solomon Street.”

I followed Bryn as she navigated the narrow paths in the store. It must be nerves, I decided. Seeing Amanda like that had me on edge. That, and I was about eight months past due for a good night’s sleep.

At the entrance, Bryn bent at the waist and held out her hand to the imp. It was female with cocoa-brown skin, large, slanted black eyes, thin lips, freckles, and a shock of orangey-red hair. The imp let out an irritable huff, dug into her Gucci purse, and then slapped a small crystal dragon into Bryn’s palm. Gizmo flew back to the bookcase and folded his gray wings behind his back.

“Nice try, Dix.” Bryn gave the imp a triumphant look. “Better luck tomorrow, eh?”

Dix shuffled from the store grumbling, but not before shooting an evil glare at Gizmo.

“You’re just going to let her go?”

“Dix is harmless. She comes in every day and tries to take something. Imps like anything glassy and shiny.” Bryn set the dragon on the shelf, went back to the counter, and then grabbed the small potted herb. “So what brings you to Hodgepodge?” She plucked a few less-than-stellar leaves without even looking, her attention totally on me.

“I need you to watch Emma tonight. I’m investigating a—”

Her eyes grew round and serious. “The Amanda Mott case, I know. It’s all over the news. People are starting to panic, Charlie. It’s hitting way too close to home now. Some are saying it’s not a drug at all, that it’s a virus or epidemic of some kind. They even splashed you and Hank on the screen.”

I swore under my breath. God, this day just kept getting better and better. “Damn it. That’s just what we need.” I scrubbed a hand down my face. “It is a narcotic, Bryn, we’re sure of that. But other than that … hell if I know.”

Bryn stared at me quietly for a second. “How are the nightmares?”

I loved my sister, but I really didn’t want to talk about it. Dying on the job and coming back two hours later can really mess your shit up. I shrugged. “Same old, same old. So, can you do it or not?”

“Sure. Why don’t you let her spend the night? I can take her to school in the morning before I open the shop.”

For a moment I saw worry in her look, but I ignored it. “Thanks.”

“It’s no biggie.” She walked with me to the door. “Just be careful, okay? You still have that charm I gave you?”

I lifted the long chain from around my neck, pulling the flat, circular-cut crystal etched with symbols from my cleavage. It was the size of a silver dollar and always rested warmly against my skin. I waved it at her. “See. Still here.”

“Good. Bring Em by around dinnertime.”

I gave her a quick nod. “Will do.”

Once on the sidewalk, I headed further down Mercy Street. I had one more person to see.

The farther you went down Mercy Street, the darker it seemed to get. Pubs and storefronts spilled into the street, tents and awnings extended selling space, and hawkers lurked in the shadows and called out to passersby. The off-world population was growing so fast, and nowhere was it more evident than here in Underground.

Ask anyone and they can tell you where they were and what they were doing when the news broke. Scientists had discovered (some say “stumbled upon”) two parallel planes of existence, which, according to many leaders and believers of the world’s major religions, resembled certain aspects of heaven and hell.

They’d been visiting us for thousands of years, using our world as a battleground and neutral zone, interfering in our lives, speaking our languages, doing good works and miracles, and committing horrible crimes. And now we knew the truth. Elysia and Charbydon, and the beings in them, weren’t the things of Sunday school lessons and Hallmark figurines.

And the existence of God and an afterlife was as unclear to them as it was to us.

The friend or foe debate continued on as usual, but no longer to the point of nuclear war. Eventually, delegations from all sides met, peace treaties were signed, and laws and policies were put into place.

We’d become the promised land for countless off-worlders, many of whom resided in several of our major cities. New York. Miami. Los Angeles. Houston. And the first off-world city, Atlanta.

“Is that the walking dead I see?” a sandpaper voice called from the shadows.

I stopped on the sidewalk as Auggie stepped from the darkness of the old maps-and-bookbinding store. “What are you doing up here?” I’d known him for so long that his slow, raspy voice, grayish-green skin, long, narrow face, and large hooked nose stopped giving me the willies years ago. “The pawnshop finally kick you off their curb?”

He shrugged, his hollowed face pinched in annoyance for a moment. “Something like that.”

“Walk with me, Auggie.” I turned and ambled down the brick pavement. He fell in step beside me. He was my height; at five-eight that was tall for a goblin. Goblin was what we called his kind here. Every being from Elysia and Charbydon had their own race-names, but their languages were so complicated and difficult to pronounce, we’d given them terms that had been around in our own language for centuries, ones that seemed to fit their appearances and powers. And to their credit, they didn’t seem to mind. Hell, most of them, after years of visiting us in secret, already knew how to speak our tongue before they’d been granted official visas, work permits, or permanent citizenship.

Like us, the Elysians and Charbydons had different races and ranks among them—some more powerful than others, some more kind and law-abiding than others, and some more criminal and evil than others. But they all had their weaknesses, weaknesses we, as humans, could (and had to) exploit. And I knew Auggie’s weakness all too well.

“I know why you’re here,” he grated slowly.

Thanks to the media, I thought. “So, what can you tell me?”

His breath came fast, and his mouth parted to reveal a blunt set of yellow teeth. He wrung his slender hands together in anticipation. “What do you have for me?”

Always prepared, I handed him a crisp hundred from my back pocket.

He snatched the bill and held it to his wide nostrils, breathing in deeply. His body shuddered. “Wonderful scent, this one. Is it new?”

“Brand-new. Never been in circulation.” That always got him worked up. “So?”

He shoved the beloved bill into his pocket, stopping between two storefronts, edging back into the shadows. “Well, I can tell you this. What you’ve been seeing over the past week is only the beginning, Charlie Madigan, only the beginning.” He gave a nervous laugh.

His black pupils dilated and the dingy yellow surrounding them flashed as he glanced anywhere but at me. “And that’s about all I can tell you.” He opened his coat, hands shaking, and changed the subject. “You wanna buy a spell? For you, I give you half price.” Vials of colored liquids and powders hung from small hooks beneath his coat. “Love, sex, happiness, wealth, I got it all right here, see. How about beauty? I got that, too.” He paled. “Oh, I mean, not that you need it. Fuck. No, you don’t need it. I just meant …” Sweat beaded his thin upper lip and ran down the bony sides of his face.

“I know what you meant,” I said, stepping closer to him. “What the hell has got you spooked, Auggie? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He stepped back, his eyes bulging and the yellow flashing again as they darted around. “No, not this time. No. Sorry. No can do.”

I grabbed his wool coat by the collar. The vials clinked against each other like wind chimes in a sudden breeze. “Auggie, two people have died. There are over twenty in the hospital right now.” My voice dropped. “I have a sixteen-year-old kid lying comatose on a goddamn bathroom floor. A kid. You want that on your conscience? You want to obstruct the law? ’Cause I can promise you you’ll be on the next transport back to Charbydon if you don’t.”

“How about a holding cell?” He gave another nervous laugh. “Charbydon … it’s too dark there now, not even an inch of moonlight.” He gulped. “I can’t, Charlie. I can’t tell you more.”

All I could think about was Emma, the promise I had made, and Amanda, the young girl I’d come to care about. “I swear to God,” I forced out between tight lips, “don’t make me beat it out of you, Auggie.” I wasn’t serious in my threat, but the urge was there. Stronger than it had ever been before.

A wave of dizziness rolled over me, followed by a sudden rush of bloodlust, ballooning, pushing against my chest, wanting to escape. I blinked hard, shocked. God, it hurt. I couldn’t catch my breath.

Steady, Charlie. It was getting harder and harder to control my emotions lately. Maybe because I hadn’t slept through the night since I’d recovered from dying.

I dropped my hold on Auggie’s coat, stumbled back, and leaned down, both hands on my knees, trying to regroup and settle myself, trying to breathe.

“You ain’t right,” Auggie said softly. “You ain’t right at all. You ever think what happened to you may have—”

Fire shot through me. My eyes snapped open, and I grabbed him by the throat and propelled him into the brick wall, lifting him clear off his feet. “Not. Another. Word.” My nostrils flared. My voice sounded different. Strength flowed through me—so great that I knew if I wanted, I could snap his neck without effort or shove him clean through the brick wall. Part of me wanted that.

What the hell? No. Calm down.

“Start talking, Auggie, ’cause I don’t know … how long I can … hold out.”

He nodded rapidly. I let him slide down the wall until his feet touched the concrete. My hold on his throat lessened, but just enough to allow him to speak. I was shaking hard and confused beyond belief. But getting information was all that mattered right now. I’d figure the rest out later.

“They’re calling it ash.”

“I know that. What else? What is it?”

“It comes from some kind of flower in Charbydon, that’s all I know.”

“Who’s dealing it?”

“Just some guys. Dealers, I guess. They’re testing it out, giving it to junkies, other dealers … If you overdose, it does the same thing on the eyes, no matter who you are or where you’re from.”

I squeezed harder. Auggie’s eyes bulged. “Who? I need a name, a place.”

His body stilled, and his terrified gaze froze over my left shoulder. “Oh, fuck.” The color drained from his face, leaving him a washed-out shade of seasick green.

I followed his gaze to see three jinn warriors striding toward us. They were tall, built like linebackers, and wore heavy black sunglasses to shield their sensitive eyes. Their dark gray skin, like soot from a fireplace, was as smooth as polished marble. Their mouths were grim, and they walked with purpose. For thousands of years they held a position of honor in Charbydon as bodyguards to the nobles. Damn.

Auggie began to shake. I released him and took a step back, my hand going to my Nitro-gun.

They stopped in front of us, all of them at least six-four and as menacing as a pack of hungry jackals.

“Hey, fellas,” Auggie said in broken falsetto, “just let me finish with the lady here.” He turned to me, his desperation almost tangible in the air between us. “What was that you wanted, ma’am? A love spell, right?” The vials rattled from his trembling as he opened the coat. He didn’t give me a vial, but slipped a pack of matches into my hand. “There you go.”

I met his gaze and it pleaded with me, seeming glassier than before. “Off you go.” He gave a nervous chuckle, trying to feign a genial tone for the benefit of the jinn, and then he leaned down and whispered, “Run, Charlie Madigan. Run.”

For as long as I’d known Auggie, he’d been selfish and greedy, but always reliable. Mutely, I shook my head at him. No way would I leave him to these guys, especially after he’d just tried to protect me. I shoved the matches in my pocket and turned as the three stepped closer.

“Get lost, broug#225;,” the one in the leather jacket spat.

I sneered back, not appreciating being called the equivalent of a disease-infested whore.

Obviously the one in leather was the leader of this three-ring gang. The other two wore parkas. The jinn were severely hot-natured—even in the notorious heat of an Atlanta summer they wore sweatshirts. That was why a Nitro-gun worked so well. It could stun them into submission, freeze their flesh, and stop their blood flow, and eventually the heart, in one Level-5 blast, but that was a shoot-to-kill-only setting, not something an officer would typically use on the street to detain criminals.

“I’m not done with the spellmonger,” I told the one who’d spoken. “Why don’t you come back later?”

The ringleader made a step toward me. Without thought, I withdrew the gun from the holster under my arm and pointed it straight at his chest; at the same time my other hand held out my badge. A glow built in his violet irises. It meant only one thing.

Attack.

With my thumb, I moved the nitro level up. This jinn was a big one, and I had the distinct feeling he’d fight until his last breath and do his best to take me with him.

“ITF, huh?” A slow, even grin spread across his dark face. He flexed his big, beefy fingers. “I’m going to like breaking you in two. Human bones, they snap like twigs.”

Auggie cursed behind me as the situation exploded.

One of the jinn was on him in a flash. I got one round off against the jinn directly in front of me before the third struck a massive blow against my chest with the palm of his hand. It lifted me off my feet and sent me flying into the brick wall.

The sudden impact knocked the wind out of me. A bright flash of pain sliced through my skull and back.

Dear God.

My gun and badge clattered to the sidewalk. I slid down the wall to my feet, crouching down like some animal, one hand on the pavement as a surge of blinding anger, anger so powerful and excruciating, erupted through me, stinging a path all the way to my fingers and toes. It was hot and cold. I couldn’t contain it, whatever it was. But it erased the pain, so I welcomed it.

A loud hum vibrated from my core. I straightened as the jinn marched toward me with a leer. Calm settled over me, confidence swelled my chest. I wanted to fight, to get down and dirty and give this joker a big ole lesson in southern manners. I had no doubt from Auggie’s reaction that they had supplied the ash. The same substance that had killed, that had put Amanda, and numerous others, in the hospital.

My gaze darted to my weapon directly between me and the asshole jinn.

He paused. I smiled sarcastically.

The sane part of me screamed. What the hell was I doing? Dive for the gun! But the sane Charlie immediately evaporated, overcome by the hum of energy that squelched any opposition. I cocked my head at him. “Come and get it, you alien loser.” They hated to be called aliens. And I lived to irritate the hell out of them.

A low growl issued from deep within his chest. He hunched his shoulders and ran at me like a bull after a rodeo clown. At the last second, I sidestepped and stuck my arm out, connecting with the soft tissue of his throat. He gagged and fell back, gasping for air. I didn’t give him a second to recover before I jerked him to his feet by the parka collar, but he swung up and hit me in the jaw. Blood surged into my mouth. I grabbed at his head, but, like all jinn males, it was just as smooth and hairless as the rest of him. My fingers found the small, delicate cartilage of his ear, and then the two small metal hoops pierced through the skin. I yanked hard. He screamed.

I kneed him in the gut as the other guy, finished with Auggie, jumped on my back. My knees buckled, and we went down in a free-for-all of hands and feet. One of them fisted my hair, lifted my head, and then slammed my forehead into the pavement.

Pain exploded, radiating over the curve of my head. Tiny rainbow crosses danced in my vision. A wave of nausea clenched my stomach. My strength and confidence wavered. Desperate, I bit the hand closest to me, getting a mouthful of thick, hot blood as black and tasteful as tar. I turned onto my back and kicked as hard as I could.

There was blood in my eyes. I couldn’t see. I hurt all over. They were winning, hitting me over and over.

Frustration welled inside me. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t happen. Not again!

I tried to tap into the anger of before, into the strange confidence and strength that had overtaken me. Please come back. Please help me, I begged, letting my body go slack and opening myself to the strange darkness I knew coiled under the surface even as their fists pounded into my belly and face.

The pain subsided and the familiar hum returned. I breathed a quick sigh of relief, nearly choking on the blood in my mouth, wanting to gag from the metallic spill sliding down my throat and pooling in my tense, empty stomach.

And then I fought back; like an animal, panicked, wild, hearing only my heart pounding through my eardrums and swinging at anything that touched me.

It seemed to go on for hours; a slow-motion dream that wouldn’t end.

“Charlie! CHARLENE ELIZABETH MADIGAN, STOP IT RIGHT NOW!”

Rough bands pinned me against the wall. I struggled against them, against the hard, scratchy surface. Tears made a hot trail down my face. The sensation of loss gripped me. Distant sobs echoed in my ears, and I realized with sudden clarity it was me making those horrid gasping sounds.

The wail of sirens filtered through my disorientation along with my sister’s voice saying my name over and over again.

I was so tired. Too tired to fight anymore.

Cold water splashed on my face, bringing me sputtering back to reality.

What the hell?

My feet were off the ground, my back pressed flat against the brick wall, held there by thick vines that wrapped around my limbs and torso. The vines had come from a potted plant near the map store.

Bryn stood in front of me, holding an empty bucket and staring up at me with tears and worry.

A crowd had gathered, a group of tourists snapping a few pictures. Others were drawn to the gruesome sight of Auggie’s lifeless body surrounded by broken and spilled vials, their liquid framing him in a macabre rainbow of color and blood; and the three jinn bodies, one frozen from the nitro blast and two beaten to death. Blood was everywhere. Mine and theirs. Red and black.

Bryn’s chest rose and fell quickly. Her healthy skin had turned ashen. The smile that always lurked in her eyes was gone. “Charlie,” she urged again, this time with a catch in her voice.

My mouth was too swollen to talk, but I didn’t have to ask. I knew Bryn had done this, had stopped me. I let my head fall back against the brick and pain shot through my skull. Bryn closed her eyes and mumbled. The vines withdrew, setting me gently on my feet. I crumpled to the sidewalk, and she was there, holding me, getting blood all over her pretty yellow sundress. She smoothed the damp hair from my face and talked to me in a soft, soothing voice, rocking me back and forth, her cheek pressed against my temple. The scent of herbs and spices clung to her clothes, skin, and hair. It was a good smell, the kind that eased my confusion.

She was crying, saying she couldn’t lose me, not again, and not after Connor.

Our brother. My twin.

A senseless act of violence when we were teens, and he was gone.

He was the reason I went into law enforcement, to protect my family, to keep assholes and killers off the streets of my hometown. Bryn had been fourteen when Connor’s car was hijacked with him inside. Two black crafters jacked up on meth had held a gun to his head and made him drive out to Piedmont Park, get out of the car, and beg for his life on his hands and knees. They taped it with a handheld recorder. And then they executed him, took his car, and made it all the way to Vegas, where they bragged to the wrong person about what they’d done.

I’d felt it the moment Connor died. The feeling has never left me.

Bryn’s rambling continued, but I didn’t hear her words, just the sound of her aching, choked voice. Thinking of Connor cleansed the mud from my brain and hardened my soul. He had made me strong, and I wasn’t about to start crumbling now.

I lifted my head and stood with Bryn’s help just as police and paramedics arrived.

“Charlie,” she whispered. “You’re healing.”

“What?”

She stared at me oddly. I could barely see her through the swollen skin around my eyes. “The cuts on your face, they’re healing.”

I touched the split lip, the movement of my arm painful. Everything hurt. Breathing hurt. “Are you doing it?” I struggled to ask.

“No, it’s not me. It’s you.”

“It’s not me.” No, it couldn’t have been me. I didn’t have powers like Bryn. And I was okay with that. I had my own kind of magic. It was called a Nitro-gun, a 9mm SIG Sauer, and a Hefty (a Taser-like High Frequency Tag capable of disabling or destroying the sound-sensitive Elysians). That was all the conjuring I needed.

Hank raced down the sidewalk, his face contorted with fear. He skidded to a stop beside us, his breath coming out fast and heavy. Hard, dark sapphire orbs replaced the vibrant blue sparkle of his eyes; they had changed as they always did with any kind of heightened emotion. There was only one other time I’d seen him this distraught. Eight months ago. When I was dying. When he hovered over me in the dark alley between Mercy and Solomon Streets, willing me to live, calling for backup over and over again until his voice broke and praying to a God he had never had much faith in, making every promise in the book if only I’d survive.

“Damn it, Charlie. Are you okay? Did the medics check you out? God, you’re a mess.”

“I’m fine.”

He briefly examined the chaos of the scene. His jaw started to twitch. Never a good sign. He propped both hands on his hips, his voice clipped and tight when he spoke. “You did this?”

Feeling stronger, I picked up my firearm slowly, ignoring the pain, and slid it into the holster under my left arm. “I got one round off,” I said, not meeting his intense gaze. “The other two, guess I just got lucky.” I warned Bryn with my look to be quiet. “They may look strong, but they don’t know how to fight dirty.” It was lame, I knew, but what else could I say? That a weird surge of strength had possessed me and allowed me to kill two jinn with my bare hands? Yeah, right. Even I didn’t believe it. There had to be some other explanation.

Hank dragged his fingers through his hair, looking from the bodies to me and then back again. “You had better hope none of these guys were from the local jinn tribe …”

I couldn’t entertain the thought of jinn retribution. Not right now. Instead, I walked away, passing the paramedics as they placed the bodies in bags, to the officer on the scene to give him my statement.

About a half hour later, Hank and Bryn walked, or rather stalked, me to my car.

“I can’t believe you came down here alone,” Hank muttered, finally breaking the silence.

I’d seen it coming. “I come down here alone all the time. So do you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to wait for your partner. I’d think you’d have learned your lesson by now.”

Oh, hell no. He wasn’t about to make me feel guilty about this. I grabbed his arm, standing toe-to-toe with him. “I did learn my lesson, Hank. I was already down here getting Bryn to babysit. And you and I both talk to Auggie, to get the scoop, whenever we’re here. Alone or not. I didn’t attack the jinn or go after them. They jumped me. So get the hell off my back.”

Enough of this crap. I left them both standing in the plaza, went to my car, and then peeled away from the curb.