Dawn till Dusk: An Urban Fantasy Romance (Genesis Crystal Saga Book 1)

by Becky Moynihan

  We crept down the staircase and into the shadowed edges of the mine’s first cavern. There didn’t seem to be anyone wandering around out here; lucky, given that we had chosen working hours to sneak down. We hoped the extra bodies would create distractions . . . but they came with added risk. I glanced at Nevaeh. She cocked her head at my silent question, her ears twitching as she listened ahead. Faint voices echoed from a chamber near us. The Fae must be in there. Nevaeh shook her head. Nothing abnormal.

  I knew there was a medical room on the far side of the hallway and I made for that, pausing to peer around the corner when we reached what seemed to be a small lunchroom. A dozen or so Fae were scattered around the space with trays of food. Hopeful that no one would spot me, I darted past, slinking down the hallway.

  The infirmary door wasn’t locked or guarded, surprisingly. The room was simple enough. Clean. A sanitary station, filled with cabinets of medical supplies and lined with exam tables. Medicine was stored in a glass cabinet on the far wall. A drawer unit of clean, dry clothing sat next to a lonely shower head, marked with instructions for emergency use.

  Odd. The Fae were mining crystals, right? Could the crystals harm them? Was that why they wore hazmat suits? My attention snagged on a counter tucked in the back corner, lined with microscopes, burners, and equipment I didn’t recognize. The technology was state of the art. Mordecai’s lab. I had never been allowed anywhere near his crystal experiments; I supposed that was why I hadn’t considered that the lab would be down here. It wasn’t marked on any of the maps, but clearly that had been done with intent. What better way to hide an expensive lab than under the guise of an infirmary that no one used?

  Another glass cabinet caught my eye and I stepped closer. Test tubes sat in racks on the shelves; most were empty, some filled with liquids ranging from various shades of green to perfectly clear. What was Mordecai up to?

  Regardless, I wasn’t going to find answers here, not unless I learned how to break into the wall safe where I guessed the real trial results were hidden. Or maybe only the crystal he was testing with. Nothing else in the room stood out to me, except the computer perched on a corner desk. Maybe answers were there?

  The screen flashed a “password required” warning.

  Of course.

  Nevaeh jumped from my shoulder and scoured the room, slipping into unlocked cabinets. I rummaged through the papers on the desk, mostly blood work results. Why had Mordecai run this much testing? Each employee had a small pile of paperwork to their name, an unnatural amount for a simple mining job.

  Wait.

  All the hired Fae were male, but at least half the applicants had been female. Did Mordecai make the selections intentionally, or did he think females were simply incapable of such jobs?

  No one’s blood work seemed abnormal, though. Regular readings on general health. They had run every test imaginable. All the applicants seemed to be Fae in their prime, with little to no nutrient deficiencies. That made sense—wouldn’t want ill workers—but they were all in the same age range. Early to late twenties. Odd.

  Nevaeh squeaked softly from the other side of the room before shifting into human form. The room was dark—even a passerby was unlikely to see her because I barely could. I crept to her side.

  “Look at this.”

  She held out a floor plan that marked the medical room, the work rooms, the storage spaces. Mordecai’s half office had been marked, and a room labeled “for emergencies only” that we had passed on our way in. My head spun in new waves of confusion. What kind of emergency were they anticipating that they needed an entire room set aside?

  “What does that mean? For emergencies only?”

  Nevaeh pursed her lips. “I don’t know, but that’s probably where we need to be looking.”

  I relayed the information I had found about the male applicants, and her forehead puckered. “This all feels off, right?” I asked quietly.

  Nevaeh nodded. “I don’t know what he’s up to. But follow your instincts. You know him better than I do.”

  She dropped into her shifter form, climbing the counter and jumping to her perch on my shoulder. I slipped from the lab and peeked around the corner, listening. Safe. We headed for the room marked “for emergencies only.”

  The room was long, but I didn’t dare turn on the main lights—the glow from the hall would have to do. I couldn’t find anything that struck me as particularly special about the bathroom facilities toward the back, or the generic safety posters around the walls. The two dozen cots that were shoved into the small space caught my eye. What was Mordecai up to? I couldn’t see an emergency situation where they would need so many beds. Nothing else raised any alarms in my mind, though—until I turned to leave.

  The door to the room was thick, massive steel.

  And hidden on the back was a line of deadbolts—that only activated from the outside.

  I glanced at Nevaeh before I hurried out. Mining crystals didn’t require security methods quite that stringent. Mordecai was definitely up to mischief—and I was starting to think I really didn’t want to know what.

  “You shouldn’t be in here.”

  The voice at my ear startled me so badly that I almost swung a fist. Twisting around, I silently released a breath, relieved that I hadn’t acted on my instincts. Jocelyn peered up at me, looking equally annoyed and fake friendly. She crossed her arms—which pushed up her disproportionately large chest—and arched a brow. Waiting.

  Oh. This far into the work day, my mind was almost too foggy to form coherent sentences let alone excuses. I tried on a sheepish smile that probably made me look constipated. “Uh, I was looking for the bathroom but forgot where it was. Can you help me out here?”

  Her lips pinched and I could tell she was trying really hard not to chew me out. Which made me wonder what her shifter form was again. My coworkers had a running tally: they thought she was a seal because of all the clapping. I could see that, her sleek black hair flowing into a slippery dark hide. But every time I imagined red lipstick on the creature, I busted out laughing.

  I was imagining it right now.

  “Something funny?” Her brown eyes narrowed.

  I coughed and cleared my throat to hide my laughter. “No, ma’am, but I really need to pee.”

  Jocelyn grimaced, no longer pretending to be my best friend. Her expression practically shouted, Dirty Fae. She jabbed a finger down the corridor. “Second door on the right. Be back in five minutes or you’ll be docked pay. Oh, and Tarik?” At my raised eyebrows, she finished with, “Don’t let me catch you in the medical room again.”

  “Oh, you won’t.” She tapped a foot, so I added, “Ma’am.” When she waltzed back into the Green Room—as the Fae were calling our new work zone—I muttered to myself, “You won’t catch me next time.”

  On autopilot, I made for the bathroom, subtly peeking into each open door I passed. This was the second day in a row I had seen Reagan down here snooping around. At least, that’s what I thought she was doing. I hadn’t crossed paths with her since the evening she shifted into lion form right in front of me—which, I admit, was rather impressive.

  That evening, though . . .

  My steps slowed. I had thought about that meeting over and over until I’d memorized each and every word we had shared. Words I regretted. The guilt, the shame of knowing my actions had caused her harm . . . I’d had a weak moment. I had said things, opened myself up in a way I’d not done in years, and now I wished I could take the whole conversation back. The offer of truce, the false hope, the show of friendship.

  Because seeing her wearing my shirt with the hem past her mid thigh, feeling her soft hair between my fingers, had turned the dull ache I’d felt in my chest for the last three years into a sharp throb. And watching her wings splay wide, so white and pure and clean, had ripped the scars right open.

  As she’d taken to the sky, I’d crashed to my knees, unable to draw air into my lungs for several agonizing seconds. The memories from
that night three years ago still haunted me, never allowing me peace. And that evening with Reagan, I’d started down a path of making the same mistakes I’d sworn to myself I’d never repeat.

  Getting too close to her was dangerous. Getting too close to anyone was dangerous. Something dark inside of me sought to destroy—and not just those who got too close. This black, oily presence wanted to snuff out every spark of joy I managed to light.

  Bad luck.

  Everything I touched turned to ash eventually. It was only a matter of time before the darkness inside me consumed the female lion shifter—who I had once thought an angel. A small smile tugged at my mouth. Took me long enough to figure out she’d flown me to her apartment the night I’d lost consciousness in that alley. She had risked so much and was already paying the price.

  Branded. Like cattle. By her own father.

  I stared unblinking at the glistening white bathroom wall. A hot wave of fury ignited my blood and I punched the tile, reveling in the bark of pain.

  A branded angel. If she’s a white angel, then I’m the black demon in the shadows waiting to drag her down to hell. My stained soul was already corrupting hers.

  As I made my way back to the Green Room, there was still no sign of blue and black hair. But, even hours later—as my back screamed and head pounded, leaving my entire body sapped of strength—I kept an eye out. The sooner I saw her again, the sooner I could put an end to this torture.

  —

  “Tarik! Tarik, help!”

  I wrenched my eyes open, for a horrified moment thinking my nightmare had come to life. After a few blinks, the soft morning sky and flat rooftop of my apartment building swam into view. A breath shuddered out of me. Benji’s mop of unruly blond hair popped over the roof’s edge. I frowned. He never came up here this early, knew this space was off-limits while I meditated.

  “It’s my mom! She fell again, and—and this time, I think she really hurt herself. Tarik, come on!”

  In a flash, I was up and scrambling down the ladder after him. We ducked into my apartment before charging into his, the sound of soft whimpers coming from their small bathroom. I stopped cold when I saw her right ankle twisted at an unnatural angle. Gaia, no. This wasn’t happening. Not now.

  I blocked the view from Benji, ordering him to feed Callie. He complained but did as instructed when I said I’d forgotten to feed her yesterday. With him out of the room, I knelt next to his mom, running my gaze over her trembling body. A tangle of blue veins could be seen through translucent skin, her arms and legs rail thin.

  In a word, she could be described as breakable. Her mysterious condition had grown worse this last year, to the point where she hardly ever went outdoors. For a Fae, that was almost worse than death. I carefully touched her arm, always worried that no matter how light the pressure, I’d leave behind bruises.

  Her blonde lashes fluttered. “Tarik,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  I bit my lip, hard, frustrated and hating how she saw herself—as a burden. “Don’t apologize, Haven. This isn’t your fault.” I bent so my face was near hers. “Can you put your arm around my neck? I’ll get you into bed.”

  She tried. Gaia, she tried. But she was too weak. I gingerly draped her arm over my shoulders and prepared to lift her. The act took no effort—she was skin and bones—but she cried out in pain and I gritted my teeth. I didn’t know how much longer her body could fight this illness, but I did what I could to ease her suffering.

  It was the least I could do. I didn’t really believe the gods had abandoned our kind, but I wholeheartedly believed that I was cursed. This healing ability of mine was proof of that. Why have it at all if I couldn’t save anyone? The fact that I’d never met another Fae who could heal with a single touch made me wonder if my ability was indeed dark magic. Maybe instead of helping others, my touch made them worse.

  But despite feeling a sickening twist in my stomach every time I tried to heal someone—worried that I was sinking poison into their veins—I couldn’t stand the suffering. Couldn’t stand hearing Haven’s pain-filled moans and Benji’s soft sniffles. If my curse had befallen them because of their close proximity to me, then the least I could do was remove some of the suffering.

  Once Haven was tucked in bed, I got to work pushing my healing magic into her broken ankle. Carefully. We never talked about the times I did this. I knew she could feel it—the sensation was like a gently moving current and the bone knitting back together wasn’t pleasant—but we had an unspoken agreement that my unique ability shouldn’t be discussed. If rumors of magic reached the shifters, I’d be accused of witchcraft and no doubt executed on the spot.

  Not only did I refuse to go out that way, but the decade’s old superstition that had started a war could reignite widespread panic and cause even more Fae persecution.

  Halfway through fixing the break, sweat peppered my forehead and even more slid down my spine. A wave of exhaustion hit me and I hunched forward, my head too heavy to hold up. I closed my eyes and sighed. A bony hand on mine broke my concentration. “You’ve done enough, Tarik. Thank you. I can never thank you enough.”

  I leaned back, inspecting the break. The ankle was straight but the bone was barely fused together. “I’ll come by after work and see how you’re doing. Until then, stay in bed and ask Benji to get things for you. That kid has the energy of ten puppies.”

  She laughed, the thin sound ending in a cough. I smiled as best I could before taking my leave, knowing her thanks was misguided. If not for me—if not for my inability to reject Benji—she would no doubt be whole and healthy, laughing and chasing after her son under a clear blue sky.

  Bad luck.

  Diseased.

  Everything I touched would eventually die.

  —

  The day only got worse.

  Mordecai had extended our hours, saying we were already falling behind schedule. Some of us used pickaxes all day, chipping out the crystal from the cave’s wall. Others carted, sorted, and cleaned the crystal, while a select few were tasked with sawing down the crystal to predetermined sizes. It was the latter that I felt most sorry for. Jocelyn hovered over them something fierce, critiquing each and every cut.

  Less than a week on the job and exhaustion consumed us. Maybe because of the lack of sunlight or the stale filtered air. Whatever the reason, every time my coworkers and I went into the mines, we staggered out at the end of the day, barely able to make the trip home.

  I had even considered black lung disease, but we weren’t mining coal. Maybe crystal disease? Something was off and I was determined to find out what. I couldn’t make the money I needed—that Benji needed—if I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning.

  I paused in my task, wiping sweat off my brow as Jocelyn clattered by. “Can I ask you a question?”

  She whipped her head my direction, eyes rounding like I’d insulted her hair or something. “I’ll answer if I can.”

  Well, then. Better than nothing. I leaned more fully on my pickaxe handle. “Are there side effects to working in these mines?”

  She blinked owlishly. Maybe she was an owl shifter? “Not that I know of. I’d have to ask Mordecai. The doctors said you were all in perfect health. Why, are you not feeling well?”

  I gave her a flat look, not bothering with subtlety. “Okay, I know we’re all new to this job—including you—but I think we should have been informed if this task makes us sick.”

  Jocelyn stared like a deer in headlights—deer shifter? Laughter suddenly bubbled past her red lips. “Or maybe you’re not accustomed to working for your pay? Yes, this is hard work, but your body will acclimate. Chin up, Tarik. The job will get easier, you’ll see.”

  Her heels clipped smartly as she traipsed off. I rolled my eyes. What a quack. Duck shifter, perhaps? Now that one made sense. Right then, my stomach cramped with spasms and I groaned. Maybe the water down here was bad. Mordecai wouldn’t poison us . . . would he?

  Crap. Something wasn’t right. I
nudged the Fae next to me, pointing at my pickaxe. “Gotta pee, Holden. Watch this for me?” At his nod, I crossed the cavern, the trip taking longer than usual. My knees shook but I straightened my spine, resolved to complete this trek in one go, even if the effort killed me.

  Maybe I was getting a normal sickness, like the flu or something. I shied away from that reasoning. My healing ability always cured me of ailments before they could take root. After relieving myself, I poked my head through each door I passed, still hoping to find Reagan slinking around.

  The bright medical room beckoned like forbidden treasure, asking to be explored. Curiosity tugged and pulled at me, the need to discover what ailed me and the other Fae overcoming Jocelyn’s earlier warning—even at the cost of my job. If the mines were slowly killing us, then this room seemed like the best place to find answers. After a thorough scan of my surroundings, I gave in.

  The sterile room was empty, lined with examination tables and shiny silver equipment. Against the far wall was a floor-to-ceiling glass cabinet. Locked. Filled with Fae blood and urine samples. Everything sat in labeled order: test tubes, syringes, bottles of—

  What if the doctors injected us with something?

  I had lost count of how many times they’d poked needles into me earlier this week. Maybe I and some of the others were having an adverse reaction to the mystery drugs. Or maybe they were instructed to pump us with poison. I made for the cabinet, searching for a key or tool I could use to pick the lock. I would even settle for smashing the glass at this point.

  The room was too clean. Too perfect. I didn’t trust it. I needed answers and I would bet they could be found behind that cabinet’s thick sheet of glass.

  “Well, Tarik Hail, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find you in here.”