the Darkest Edge Of Dawn (2010) (6 page)

Nymphs had a passionate and devoted relationship with nature, and they, along with the sidhe fae from Elysia and the darkling fae from Charbydon, had been the foundation for much of Celtic mythology when they settled in parts of the British Isles and Europe during the Neolithic Age.

A dark figure appeared on the other side of the gate. Black T, black jeans, black boots. Male. Angular face. Wiry. Lethal.

We flashed our shiny new federal ID badges.

"Hold on." He drifted back into the mist and darkness, returning a few minutes later to open the gate. The loud whine of the iron hinges made the fine hairs on my body rise. "Follow the path straight ahead to the lake. Don't stray from the path."

A thin layer of fog hugged the ground, covering the path, but we didn't need to see it since the way was lined with tall wooden torches carved with Celtic-style symbols and animals.

I knew from coming here as a child that it was a straight shot to the lake, but now the old pavement had been pulled up and replaced with quarried stone. Asphalt was not favored within Kinfolk territory.

Still, it was a long-ass walk to the lake.

The nymph closed the gate behind us, and then blended into the misty darkness.

"Guess we're footing it." Hank shoved his hands into his leather jacket, and started down the path.

"It's
hoof
ing. We're
hoofing
it." But he was already a few feet ahead of me.

The air was cooler and wetter in the park, reminding me of the lake at Mott Technologies and the unconsecrated Civil War burial grounds--the place where I'd called the darkness. The scents immediately triggered images. Iron dagger. Blood. Mine. Mynogan's. My daughter's face. The grass and the night sky shifting to gray.

And just as quickly as they came, the memories were gone, gone without having altered the rhythmic brush and scrape of our boots against the stone, but it did leave my heart knocking fast against my rib cage. I blinked hard and regulated my breathing, focusing on the tall skyscrapers that edged one side of the park like a mountain range of steel and lights.

My gaze traveled down and left, where the land rose, giving me a glimpse through the trees of the enormous gray monoliths of the nymphs' stone circle, a Stonehenge in the heart of the city. But unlike that dead, crumbling circle, this one was alive with power. A slow, pulsating beat that resonated so low it wasn't heard but
felt.

Going into the Grove was like stepping back in time. Any minute I expected a naked nymph to go skipping by with her signature dark hair flying out behind her, calling herself Titania, Queen of the Fairies.

But no such creature appeared.

"You ever meet him?" I asked Hank, feeling the need to break the quiet and inject some humanity into the space.

"The Druid?" He shrugged. "Once or twice."

"And?" Leadership of the Atlanta Kinfolk had changed hands last year just before my little brush with death. I'd yet to meet Pendaran, the new Druid King, in the flesh, but I'd heard stories. Hank, however, was a bit more submersed in the off-world community than I was, so I wasn't surprised that he'd met the guy before.

"Let's just put it this way: if you put him and Grigori Tennin in the ring and let them pound each other, no powers involved, I'm not sure who would win."

"That's comforting." Grigori Tennin was the jinn tribe boss here in Atlanta. Think mob boss on steroids and you get the general idea. The jinn were a warrior culture where both males and females were the color of smoke and gunmetal and built like linebackers with glowing violet eyes. Some held positions as bodyguards to the Charbydon nobles.

The nymphs' temple by Clara Meer had been built with huge oak columns and timber beams, nearly every inch carved with symbols and scenes of battles, heroes, beasts, and idyllic landscapes. It was a sprawling complex, all one level and large enough to support the entire Kinfolk of Atlanta. The buildings meandered through the woods, incorporating the trees into the structure.

Through the columns and courtyards, I could see some of the city lights blinking off the smooth, dark surface of the lake. I'd been here before, and had been just as awed then as I was now. There was a distinct serenity to the place that existed alongside the majestic structures and the trees, which had grown to incredible sizes since the nymphs had taken over the park.

Some sort of enhancement on the nymphs' part, no doubt.

The entrance to the main temple was a two-story, open-air colonnade of oak poles supporting a peaked roof. It led straight out over the lake, where a dock had been built. In fact, there were several docks and rooms built over the water. Nymphs, like most Elysians, had an affinity for water. A fire burned in the very center of the temple and to the left and right were the two main altars of the Mother and Father, two gigantic wooden carvings with their bases acting as altars, which held fruits and vegetables, votive candles, handmade jewelry, and small, gem-encrusted weapons.

A figure appeared from one of the many halls that spread out from this centralized area.

She was slim, dark haired. The Titania I'd expected a few moments ago, though this one was clothed in a light blue gossamer dress. Her hair had been left down, long and wavy and dark. She had a lovely oval face with large olive-green eyes, pert nose, and pale mouth. In other words, your typical nymph. "This way, please."

We followed her down several hallways before coming to a massive set of wooden doors. Once they opened, a sense of trepidation gripped me. Everything here made me feel small, like I was in the hall of the gods and humans were trivial in the scheme of the universe.

"This is the Druid's private hall," she said. "Come."

The end of the hall was open to the lake and once we stepped outside again, I realized that it stretched over the water and we were far from the main temple in a secluded spot.

The nymph stopped and waved us toward the long walkway extending out over the lake. Poles supported the dock, rising through the platform about seven feet high and topped with burning torches. We stopped at the end, nothing before us but the mirror-like surface of the lake and the outline of downtown's skyline hovering over the park.

"So what now?" I scanned the area, resting my right hand on the hilt of my hip weapon, and casting a glance back at the nymph.

"Federal agents!" Hank called out. "We have news about one of your Kinfolk!" He lowered his voice. "There. That should do it."

A faint splash made us turn. The water rippled.

A figure floated forward from a shadowed area of the lake, arms hugging a small blow-up raft. The torchlight bounced off the edge of the plastic, but the being relaxing in the water remained hidden. The left hand and forearm, however, caught some of the light. Strong. Tan. Covered in inky Celtic-style symbols.

Nymphs had a hierarchy just like most races from both worlds, but their leaders were chosen not by birthright, or council, or vote. Druid was a title earned, taken only by those capable of leadership and judgment. The Druid of the Kinfolk was king and high priest simply because he was the most powerful, biggest, badass nymph in the city.

"You may go, Grainne," a rumbling voice said.

The nymph lurking behind us bowed her head and moved swiftly down the dock and back through the private temple. I cocked one hip, hand still resting on my weapon and quite frankly a little nervous. Hank and I pulled our badges at the same time.

"What news do you speak of?" Pendaran, the Druid King, asked from the shadows once Grainne was gone.

Why did I have a feeling this was going to be bad? I drew in a deep breath, really not liking this whole pins and needles thing. "I'm sorry to inform you that a female nymph by the name of Daya Machanna was found dead a short time ago."

His hands slid back over the curve of the raft, disappearing beneath the lake. I stood a little straighter. My grip on the weapon and badge tightened.

"Great," Hank muttered, releasing an unpleasant sigh. "Should've brought a fucking umbrella."

As the last word came out of his mouth, a plume of water shot up from the lake and, with it, a beast straight out of myth and lore.

"Jesus!" I scrambled back several steps, heart in my throat, wanting desperately to aim my weapon just for some measure of protection. It was halfway up when Hank's hand pressed it back down.

"No, Charlie."

Wings the size of a jetliner shot out. The trees around the lake rustled in the sudden wind. A black chest puffed up, and a long, corded neck stretched to the sky. Huge jaws opened and let out a piercing, angry shriek that shook the dock, the temple, every bone in my body, and probably much of downtown Atlanta.

Droplets of water began to fall. Shit. There was only time to turn my shoulder before the deluge fell upon us and flattened my hair to my face.

As the roar died down, I whirled on Hank, threads of water streaming down my face, pulse thumping with adrenaline and disbelief. "Dragon?! He's a goddamn
dragon
!"

5

Another roar rent the air and shook the boards at my feet, making my legs wobble. I wiped the water from my eyes and then tilted my head back.

Well, no wonder he was the Druid King.

Torchlight glistened against black reptilian skin. The underside of his wings shimmered with blues and greens, like an abalone shell. My mouth had gone completely dry despite much of my top half being drenched with lake water. At least the treated suede of my jacket kept the wetness from sinking all the way through. I wanted to take another step back, but held my ground, really hoping this wasn't going to be a case of "kill the messenger."

Hank, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the show. He swiped a hand down his face, readjusted his shirt, and then dragged his fingers through his wet hair, looking part bored and part annoyed. Business as usual.

The dragon lifted its head to the sky once more and let out a sad moan that reminded me of a whale call, before sinking down into the lake.

Once he was gone, I wiped my forehead with the sleeve of my jacket and then rested my hand back on the hilt of my weapon. "You could've warned me."

Hank shrugged, his gaze on the lake. "Where's the fun in that?"

Ten seconds later, Pendaran slapped his big hands on the edge of the dock, pulled his hulking body out of the water, straightened, and strode past us buck-ass naked. "Follow me."

What was left of my breath whooshed from my lungs as I turned slowly on my heel, watching him go, his tanned, wet skin practically glowing from the reflection of the torchlights. The entire left side of his body was covered in swirling black tattoos. The ends of his black hair stuck to his neck. Water dripped down his back.

"Close your mouth, Charlie." Hank's unamused tone barely registered over my sudden state of distraction as he brushed passed me and followed the Druid King down the dock and into his private sanctuary.

I'd seen a lot of things in my time, but this ... A dragon
and
a naked god all in the span of five minutes. File this one under: unforgettable. I shook off the daze and hurried after them, falling in step with Hank and eventually entering what appeared to be private quarters.

The far wall opened to the lake via accordion doors. Sheer white curtains billowed in the faint breeze. Pendaran grabbed a towel from the back of a white couch, turned to us, and began drying his hair. His pecs bulged with the movement, leading my gaze to the black ink curling around the muscle. The lines and spirals and animal heads all interconnected from the top of his left foot, up his leg, hip, torso, shoulder, down his arm, up his neck, over his left ear, and finally disappearing into the hairline at his temple.

Looking at him was like standing in some natural history museum, staring at a larger-than-life exhibit on Celtic gods and warriors. His face was both beautiful and brutal, a visage that spoke of strength beyond measure, intensity I could not begin to fathom, and a lethalness that could fell a rhino.

And, obviously, like most Elysians, the guy didn't have a problem with modesty. But then, why would he?

His cool, measured gaze fixed on Hank. "Long way from home, aren't you, siren?"

Hank went noticeably stiff. "Could say the same for you ...
Druid.
"

"Ah, but no one is missing
me.
"

I frowned, obviously not getting the innuendo. My mouth opened as I turned to my partner, but he cut me off before I could speak, his unreadable gaze still on the Druid. "Maybe you should go put some clothes on. My partner can get pretty sensitive to guy parts."

I did a double take, sucking in an astonished draft of air. Heat stung my cheeks. My fingernails dug into my palms.

Count. Count to three and breathe.

I swallowed down the hot, dry lump in my throat and gave a careless shrug to Pendaran. "Seen one, you've seen them all," I said. "Makes no difference to me how you want to conduct this interview."

A glimmer passed through the Druid's irises, revealing the same brilliant abalone color that had shimmered along the underside of his wings. He kept his thoughts to himself, tossed the towel on the glass coffee table, and then disappeared into another room. At least
one
guy around here knew when to keep his mouth shut.