by Kelly Gay
Em came down the stairs in her school uniform—white blouse, Black Watch plaid skirt, knee-high white socks, and black Mary Janes. Her book bag was slung over one shoulder, a Pop Tart in her mouth that she must’ve grabbed when she let Brim out earlier, and her other hand holding her Cobweb outfit for the play. I set the cup down and pulled the Pop Tart out of her mouth. “Good morning.”
“Morning. Practice for the play starts at four.” A horn honked outside. “That’s Miss Marti and Amanda. I have to go. It’s dress rehearsal, so I won’t be home until seven.”
“Okay. Have fun, kid. And leave your amulets on when you change.” I kissed her and then stuck the Pop Tart back into her waiting mouth. She smiled, somehow mumbling a goodbye as she trotted down the hall, the fairy wings on her costume bobbing, and out the front door.
I finished my coffee, set the mug in the sink, and then went to the foyer closet to get my weapons harness off the hook. I strapped it on, checking all three of my weapons as I walked back down the hall to grab another bagel. I was just snapping the flap over my Hefty when Rex came out of the downstairs bathroom in nothing but a towel around his waist and in the process of drying his hair with another towel.
Two more steps and I would’ve smacked right into him, but that didn’t stop the scent of aftershave and clean skin from springing up all around me—the scents of memories. My stomach seemed to go instantly empty despite the bagel and coffee.
I stood frozen in the hall, mentally and emotionally caught off guard. Will’s body appeared as fit as ever, and it looked even better with droplets of water clinging to hard pecs and abs. The one thing I’d probably never get over was the fact that my ex looked really, really good.
Slowly, he withdrew the towel from his head, using his other hand to run his fingers through the wet hair, pushing it back from his forehead. His Adam’s apple bobbed slowly, and he eyed me for a long second, frozen like I was.
My mouth had gone paper dry, but I managed a swallow. “Is he in there right now?” Grief burned through my chest. “Do you hear him at all?”
A corner of his mouth dipped, and he shook his head, his baby blues taking on a pitiful look. “Sorry.”
Not even a little bit? I wanted to ask, wondering why I felt compelled to keep asking the question; the answer was not going to change. I wanted something, a tiny bit of hope, a sign that would allow me to throw my arms around him, smell his familiar scent, and just hold on to him for a while, but he wasn’t in there and—
Rex’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me close.
Stunned, I didn’t move, but my other senses went on high alert. God. He smelled the same, felt the same, and my reaction was the same—one of great comfort, like curling up in your favorite blanket right after it came out of the dryer. Rex’s hand pressed the small of my back and the other hand cradled my head, holding me so that my cheek pressed against his shoulder. For one small second, I let my eyes close.
Why? Why had Will gone and done something so irrevocable? I’d loved him. There had been a chance between us. Had he been patient. Had he been thinking about us instead of himself. Disappointment and regret crept into my heart like salt sprinkled onto an open wound. I pushed away, my cheeks burning. “Don’t do that again.”
Rex stared at me for a long moment. “You wanted me to.”
“No, I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want Will to, either. So don’t touch me again. Got it?” I pivoted on my heel, forgetting about the extra bagel, grabbed my things out of the front closet, and left.
I parked on Alabama Street and hurried to Underground, stopping at the small grocery store on the corner of the plaza and Mercy Street to pick up some groceries and essentials for Bryn. Then I made a quick beeline for the bakery shop at the head of Helios Alley to get another coffee to go and two gigantic Aeva buns.
The Elysian imps made the best baked goods in the universe, and the Aeva bun was like eating a sugary cloud, so light and fluffy that each bite melted as soon as it hit your tongue. Every time I ate one I forgave the imps for their other talent—nimble fingers and an extreme weakness to possess shiny objects that did not belong to them.
I placed one of the buns into a grocery bag, then looped six of the plastic bag handles over my left forearm and three over my right, leaving my hands free so I could eat the other Aeva bun and drink my coffee. A little clunky, but doable. I was done with the bun way before I got to Bryn’s door, and hit the buzzer.
She met me at the top of the landing in a large sleep shirt. “Here.” I held out the second Aeva bun as I scooted past her rumpled form. It wasn’t the healthiest breakfast in the world, but the Aeva that gave the heavenly confection its name was very similar to sugarcane, and the sugar-like rush would get Bryn up and moving.
She shut the door behind me as I hurried to put the groceries away. “Did you feed Gizmo yet?” I asked, noticing the water bowl was full, but the food bowl was empty.
“Yeah. He’s snoozing on top of the cabinet there.” Mouth full, she pointed to the kitchen cabinet, the top end. A small bit of his forked tail hung over the edge. Gargoyles loved to be up high.
I closed the refrigerator and stuffed a few things into the pantry. “You take your dose yet?”
Bryn sat on the arm of the couch, her bare legs stretched out, ankle bracelets dangling. She reminded me of Emma just then, swallowed up in a long, oversized shirt and her hair a wild mess.
“I’ll take that as a no.” I shoved the bags into the recycling container. “Where is it?”
“Bathroom,” she answered, cheeks full.
I searched for the small packs of ash, but couldn’t find them. “Where?” I yelled over my shoulder as I bent down to root under the sink.
Her voice came from behind me. “It doesn’t come in those powder packs anymore.” She stepped into the bathroom, reaching over me as I stood and pulling what looked exactly like an inhaler from the medicine cabinet. “Titus made these for us. You just twist it to your scheduled dose, press down, and it punctures the pack, then you inhale the powder.” She performed the actions as she spoke and then pressed her lips to the indented edge and drew in a deep breath.
Her eyes rolled. She took two steps back and slumped against the wall. Her pale throat worked. Her nostrils flared. An expression of ecstasy slid over her features, but as her eyelids closed, a tear slipped out. Her voice was raw when she spoke. “I hate this, Charlie.”
My fist closed, my fingernails digging deep into my palm. Goddammit. I pulled my little sister off the wall, gathering her into my arms, taking some of her weight to support her weakened body. “I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair.
Her arms hung limp as the drug worked its way through her system. Ash had hit the market so fast, and it had a devastating effect on humans. It was rapture in powdered form made from a legendary, bioluminescent Charbydon flower, Sangurne N’ashu, a Bleeding Soul. It either killed on first dose, or hooked you. After some users who had survived the initial dose began dying afterward, we learned that the withdrawal was just as deadly as an overdose. The only way to keep their body from shutting down was to keep feeding them ash in small, manageable doses.
Bryn never had a choice. Her initial exposure to ash had come from the fight to close down the Bleeding Soul farm, and now, like the other survivors, her life depended on the drug.
“Titus will find a cure,” I whispered, smoothing her hair. “He will. He’ll find a cure …”
I held her until she moved her arms and hugged me back, the initial high passing. After a few more minutes, I released her, making sure she was steady on her feet before turning on the shower and then placing a towel on the sink. We didn’t speak, both of us too overwhelmed by emotion. Her color was high, but I couldn’t tell if that was the drug or because she’d been crying. She turned away from me as I pulled the bathroom door closed and walked into the living room where I sank into the couch cushions, rested my head on the arm, and closed my eyes.
The next time I opened them, it
was to see Bryn standing over me, dressed in one of her flowing, ankle-length skirts, her auburn hair twisted up into the usual romantic-looking arrangement, and both dimples indented due to the frown tugging her mouth down. “Charlie, wake up.”
Christ. I sat up, blinking away the cobwebs in my brain, surprised I’d fallen asleep in that short amount of time, especially after eating that massive Aeva bun. “Shit. Sorry.” I stood, stretched, and pulled my car keys from my pocket. “You ready?”
Her answer was an eye roll, one that showed just how much she was looking forward to this.
“You’ll be fine.” I passed her, waiting on the landing as she locked the door, and then I followed her down the steps, through Underground, up to Topside, and down the sidewalk to my Tahoe, grateful that it wasn’t raining this morning.
We made it to the doctor’s office in Edgewood with four minutes to spare. I shoved the gear into park and turned to Bryn, easily sensing her nervousness. “You want me to come in with you for a while?”
She stared straight ahead. “No. The receptionist said no family or friends allowed since it’s a group thing, and it might make others hesitant to talk.”
“I guess that makes sense.” I stared out of the window. “There’s a second meeting tomorrow. Two days in a row, and then there’s an optional get-together on Sunday at the Java Hut.”
We watched the flow of traffic beyond the parking lot for a minute or two before Bryn let out a loud sigh and then pulled her purse strap over her shoulder. “Call me when it’s over, and I’ll pick you up,” I said as she opened the passenger side door and got out.
“I’m a big girl, sis.” Her half-smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I can take the MARTA back to Underground. Thanks, though … for driving me and everything …”
I nodded as she shut the door and then strode across the lot, her coral-colored skirt swishing around her and making her stride look twice as long as it really was. She hopped the curb, turned down the sidewalk, and disappeared into the main entrance of the office complex. My shoulders slumped, and I sent up a silent prayer that today would give my sister a new outlook and some hope for the future.
I stayed outside the office building for an extra ten minutes to make sure she didn’t bolt, and then I made another small detour before heading into the station.
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?”
