the Darkest Edge Of Dawn (2010) (14 page)

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?"

I picked at my fingernails, my mind going back to the bizarre flashes I'd had recently: the hellhound, the mirror in my room, the odd blood vessels I saw beneath my skin, and now the script on the wall. I took a deep breath. "You mean besides seeing a few seconds into the future where my partner kills a hellhound, seeing straight through things as if they aren't even there, thinking my entire body is trying to tattoo itself with script from the inside out?" I shook my head, avoiding his insightful emerald gaze. "I turned a stuffed bunny into a tiny fur ball, Aaron."

That sort of said it all.

Aaron angled in his chair, the light catching the silk sheen of his dark blue tunic. "I've been studying your case, Charlie, quite a bit in fact ... and I've made a rather interesting connection. Mind you, it's just a theory, but one I think you should hear." He scratched the short black stubble on his chin, taking his time to choose just the right words. "What do you know about the Old Lore?"

I blinked, not expecting the question. "Not much. I know it's some sort of ancient Elysian legend."

"The Old Lore is a priceless collection of the oldest known writings in our world. These writings are based on a much earlier oral tradition about the pre-history of Elysia, and about the creation of our race and our world. The Charbydons have a similar Lore called the Creation Myth."

"Okay. So what's this have to do with me?"

"We know very little about our pre-history, but thanks to the collection we have, we know a few stories from this time period. It was from these early myths that our belief in a single creator evolved, a belief, in some ways, like your own monotheistic religions." He shrugged. "You are familiar with the One God Theory."

"That we're all created by the same being? Yeah, I've heard about it."

"Being. Deity. Metaphysical entity." Aaron smiled. "Who knows. All we have are myths, and doctrines, and stories, just like you. Some chose to believe in them. Some chose not to."

The theory had gained popularity over the years. The discovery of alternate worlds made a lot of people think or rethink--it was only natural given the circumstances. New theories popped up all the time, and faded away just as quickly, but the One God Theory appealed to many believers. I suppose if you believed your God is the
only
God, the creator of the entire universe and everything in it, then that would also have to include the off-worlders. The theory hadn't put much of a dent into the existing human doctrines, but it did spawn new churches and more places for nondenominational worship.