The cure for ash had been passed along to Titus Mott. It would need to be studied; its properties identified, then re-created and put through a series of tests before using it on live subjects. For now, we were keeping it under wraps—no need to get anyone’s hopes up if it didn’t work. But I was pretty sure that whatever Titus discovered in that cylinder would be the key to ash’s demise.
I’d sent out the courier the day before and had just gotten a reply. Lightwater said no. Apparently a stickler for details, she required her two days with me before giving me her marker. That had been the deal struck, and that’s the way it would stay. I wanted to send another courier saying that if I died then she’d never get her two days, but decided it was pointless. Lightwater wasn’t a fool; she knew exactly the kind of gun I was under. And she’d had the nerve to write Good luck.
I couldn’t exactly go into Ithonia and give Lightwater her two damned days first. She wanted to study me, and my power. No way in hell I was going to chance Sachâth coming again. The next time it did, I was sure it would be my last.
And I’d yet to go to Hank’s apartment to have my wicked, wanton way with him, and was pretty sure this contributed to my bad mood. Last night, he’d come back to my house and eaten dinner with me, Emma, and Rex. And since I hadn’t told Emma anything about a relationship existing between Hank and me, I wasn’t going to go home with him after. We ended up back at the station to work late with Sian, researching the sidhé fae, every myth and legend I could get my hands on concerning the First Ones and their Disciples, and the ITF database for Charbydons in the city (and beyond) who were old enough and powerful enough to beg, blackmail, or threaten into helping me.
Lost cause, really.
I’d made enemies of the two most powerful Charbydons in the city: Grigori Tennin and the Master Crafter of Atlanta, the ghoul, Nuallan Gow. Hank was willing to put his life on the line to fight Sachâth, and Pen had an ulterior motive he thought was worth the risk, but there was no Charbydon who’d be willing to do anything of the sort. In fact, they’d stand on the sidelines cheering Sachâth for the win.
The following morning, I was tired and cranky as I sat at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal, not looking forward to starting yet another day of endless frustration and roadblocks. Soon Sachâth would come whether I used my power or not. I had to be prepared, had to face it on my own terms. I had to win.
The Creator didn’t account for everything.
I kept coming back to those words Sandra wrote in her letter. I felt certain she was telling me Sachâth wasn’t perfect. There was a flaw in the First One assassin, the flaw being, in my opinion, that it was only created to kill First Ones. Not other beings. Sure, the fail-safes were there, but had those other races been taken into account? They were only in their infancy, not even a blip on the radar during the time of the First Ones. Had the Creator taken into account that ages later those “blips” would become intelligent and powerful?
I was sure I was on the right track, but I hit a wall when it came to the Charbydon issue.
Emma flounced down the stairs, dropped her backpack in the middle of the kitchen floor, grabbed a bowl and spoon, and then slid into a chair at the table. She grabbed the cereal and milk from the middle of the table and poured. After her first bite, she said, “So?”
“So what?”
“Mom.” The expectant look she gave me was wan and no-nonsense, and very much like . . . me. “The problem. What is it, what’s bugging you? We only have fifteen minutes, so be quick.”
I returned her look, shaking my head, and deciding to play along. “Okay. Fine. Say you had a project where you had to draw on power. Not just any power, but the arcane energy from each world, really primal stuff. So three different sources. And you have Earth and Elysia covered, but not Charbydon.”
She chewed thoughtfully for less than ten seconds before she said, “Simple.”
I smiled. “Oh, is it?”
“Yeah.” She flipped her spoon until it was pointing to the ceiling. “You just take it from the darkness overhead. It’s all raw energy from Charbydon anyway.”
And just like that my twelve-year-old kid floored me. Floored. I dropped my spoon, clattering milk and cereal all over the table. My mouth hung open and she just looked at me, then around the room. “What?” she asked, cheeks full of cereal.
“Nothing. Nothing.” I grabbed the spoon and bowl, standing up, shaking. “You’re just . . . that’s just . . . genius. And right. It’s right.”
Her mouth split into a smile, and she continued chewing cheerfully, completely in bliss at being right. After she swallowed, she said in a very aristocratic tone, “I shall mark this day down in the annals of the Madigan Family Saga. The day Emma Riley Garrity, the Genius, was right. Right, I tell you! Right, I say! Right, right, right!” She punched her spoon into the air with each word.
Rex shuffled into the kitchen, all sleepy and grumbly. “Right. Whatever. Coffee. Emma. Stop being happy. It’s too early for happy.”
She laughed and resumed shoveling cereal into her mouth as I stood at the sink, rinsing my bowl out, amazed and embarrassed that I’d been so intent on the Charbydon races that I’d missed the obvious hovering right over my head.
And I didn’t need a Charbydon to use the darkness, just like Pen didn’t need to be human to draw out Earth’s energy. All one needed was strength, knowledge, and a shitload of power.
“Rex,” I said, turning to eye him. “I don’t suppose you know any jinn rituals for calling down or commanding the darkness, do you?”
He shut the fridge and gave me the blandest expression, like I was wasting breath even asking him such a ridiculous question. One that didn’t even warrant an answer.
Well, I had to give it a shot. But I was already well on my way to solving the problem because I knew another who had manipulated the darkness. Llyran, the level-ten felon who had stolen a tome from the Adonai’s Hall of Records, one that told him exactly how to command the darkness.
And guess who had that book? The Druid King.
I wiped the table, kissed Emma on the cheek. “Hurry up, we need to get going.”
After dropping Emma off at school, I placed a call to Hank, filling him in on Emma’s brilliance, then to Pen to let him know we were on our way.
As I parked by the curb near the 10th Street entrance of the Grove, Hank ducked out of his car and my belly went light. I ignored the feeling, turned off the engine, and got out.
Hank approached as I shoved one side of my hair behind my ear and locked my vehicle. I slipped my keys into my pocket. My mark grew warmer. The darkness overhead made me tingle. And my heart rate rose at the idea of facing Sachâth again. Ugh. Talk about edgy. And it was only going to get worse.
“Morning,” Hank’s rich voice broke the quiet.
I drew in a deep, steadying breath and turned. “Morning.” I continued, stepping past him and onto the sidewalk. “Sure you’re ready for this?”
His answer was a casual shrug as he fell in step beside me. “You call Leander yet?”
I stopped. Hank walked a few more steps before turning around with an eyebrow lifted in question. “Hank, are you really sure about this? Sachâth might be designed to kill First Ones, but it’ll attack anything if provoked.” And that meant Hank and Pen were as much a target as I’d be.
He took three long strides, coming to stand directly in front of me, so that I had to lift my chin to look him in the eye. “Were you sure when you left the city to find me?” Of course I was. I didn’t even need to think about it. I nodded. “It’s the same thing, Charlie. We defeated my demons, now we defeat yours.” He tossed a look over his shoulder toward the gate. “Come on.”
We fell in step again. Hank asked again if I’d called Leander. “Not yet. I want to make sure I can read the tome and do what Llyran did. If I can, then we’re all set and should do this as soon as possible. Pen’s meeting us at the henge.”
Sometimes, when it was sunny beyond the darkness, a little light would filter through, leaving the daytime looking like a dark, dark thunderstorm was approaching, but this morning it must’ve been cloudy and overcast because it was black as night outside.
The Grove had become a creepy place since the darkness had parked itself over the city, but now—knowing what I needed to do—it looked downright scary. The ever-present flashes of green snaked through the swirling mass overhead, and the city lights beyond the park bathed Oak Hill in light.
We veered off the main path and walked up the grassy hill to an exact replica of what Stonehenge looked like when it was completed in ancient times. The monoliths were colossal and seemed to grow higher as we went up the hill; they dwarfed us and everything around us.
Pen stood in the center of the henge, the tome spread out on the altar stone in front of him. As I stepped into the circle, a slight vibration of energy went through me. I came up next to the Druid and stared down at the ancient tome, one of the histories of Elysia.
The writing on the pages was a blending of early Elysian, a bridge between the language of the First Ones and the language of the Adonai, which then evolved into the modern Elysian language used by most of the races of that world today. In other words, a bitch to read. There weren’t many people who could.
But I tried to remain optimistic. Llyran had figured it out. And Pen had been in possession of the tome since the battle on Helios Tower. He’d been studying it, trying to decipher the language and the commands Llyran had used to control the darkness.
“Here,” Pen said, passing me an amulet. “I’ve been wearing this to aid in the translation. It should work for you, too. Try it.”
I placed the amulet over my head, let it rest against my skin, and felt its heat snake into my body. It took a minute, but eventually, the words on the tome took shape, some of which I could understand, some of which I couldn’t. “It’s not working all the way.”
Damn it. This had to work. Why wasn’t it working?
“You read the stone tablet in Fiallan, right?” Hank reminded me. “How did you manage that, how did you understand the words?”
“I only read it; I never understood the words. I don’t know . . . this is different writing, though, so maybe . . . Before I used my power. Not anything big, but just . . . engaged it, I guess you could say.”
“Try using your power with the amulet,” Pen said.
Hank leaned closer to me, our shoulders touching. “Just be careful. Don’t draw too much. We’re not ready for war just yet.”
I wasn’t ready for war at all.
I centered myself, drew in a deep, even breath, and closed my eyes, imagining a pinprick of light appearing in my core that worked like a magnet, pulling power from my cells and creating a small well of energy swirling inside me.
Then I opened my eyes. Words reshaped themselves through my vision much quicker than I expected and I understood some of what I saw. “It’s working,” I whispered.
I began flipping carefully through the old pages, until I found what I was looking for and what I knew now were the same words Llyran had read to manipulate the darkness.
If only I could test it first . . .
I released the energy, careful to bank it within my core rather than let it go outside of myself where Sachâth lived. “I need to call Leander.” I slid a glance at the two powerful beings staring down at me from lofty heights. “Are we ready to do this?”
They both nodded.
Goose bumps spread over my skin. “Sachâth won’t sense Ahkneri being this close?” I asked Pen.
“The agate has masked her power for thousands of years. There is a reason she chose that sarcophagus. The water adds a layer of insulation as well.” He crossed his arms over his chest and parked a weighty stare on me. “So what’s the plan, Detective?”
Thirty minutes and about a hundred I can’t believe I’m doing this mantras later, I stood in front of Hank. Leander and Pen were over by the altar, arms folded over their chests, feet planted, eyeing each other suspiciously and curiously. They’d been at it for at least three minutes.
“All set, kiddo?” Hank asked, flicking the ends of my hair and smiling a crooked smile.
“I’m pretty fucking scared right now, Hank.” A gazillion second thoughts ran through my head, along with every single thing that could go wrong. And I tried like mad not to imagine someone walking up to my front door, telling my kid I’d failed. I was gone. But the thought remained a shadow in the back of my mind.
Shit, shit, shit.
“It’s a good plan, Charlie. The oracle is never wrong. She wouldn’t have said those things if there wasn’t a way to kill it. She wouldn’t have written you that letter and led you down this path. We’ll win because we were meant to win.”
I frowned up at him, wondering if he really believed that or he was just saying it to boost my confidence. He cupped my face in his big hands, leaned down slowly, and kissed me gently. I grabbed his jacket and pulled him closer, trying to brand the feeling onto my soul. In case I didn’t make it, in case the only thing left of me was energy and memories.
Hank drew me into a hug, just holding me as tight as he could, and I knew he was doing the same as I was, committing me to memory. Just in case.
We stepped back at the same time. “Thank you.” If I didn’t get to say it after, I was saying it now, so he knew how much this meant to me, this . . . standing by my side.
I took my place at the altar where I could read from the book. Pen walked to the largest trilithon, the center stone set in a horseshoe ring of five that stood within the circle. It was directly across from the altar stone, making Pen and me face-to-face over the distance. Hank and Leander took up places about ten feet away from each end of the altar stone, facing toward it.
Here we go.
Pen began first, feet braced apart, clasping his hands together in front of him and bowing his head as though at church. It was such a familiar stance; it took me by surprise. And then the familiarity ended. The intensity of the henge rose until pain flowed through my eardrums. It was like standing inside a heartbeat—Earth’s, to be exact. The center trilithon behind him began to glow and soon every monolith and capstone had taken on a soft gray light.
When the Druid lifted his head and opened his eyes, they were the same color as the stones. And that’s why he’s called the Druid King, my inner voice said in awe.
Next came Hank. I glanced over, heart pounding now. His eyes connected with mine. He closed his fist, and the shimmering golden light began like it had before. The lopsided grin he shot me said, Yeah, I know it’s cool. I smiled. Show-off. His grin widened. His hand brightened. Light flooded through his veins, a beautiful web of primal golden power.
I turned to Leander, not really knowing what the hell he was going to do or what power he planned on using. Or, hell, maybe he’d just come to watch. He just stood there, arms folded, and cocked an unimpressed eyebrow at me. Whatever. Guess it was my turn.
Dear Lord, please get me through this.
According to the tome, once I read the words, I need do nothing more than use my intention to command the darkness. I drew on my power like I’d done before. The words took shape and I opened myself up, allowing my power to grow and brighten and consume me. Hot and cold stung my insides as everything came together, and then hummed with crystal clarity and unity.
I vibrated with energy. The symbols on my arm began their strange bluish glow. Accept yourself. Make yourself whole. Make the shadow whole. I was Charbydon, Elysian, Human, Divine. Not one or two, but all. It was time to accept every part of me and let go of the past and the fears, to stop clinging to my humanity and the shadows of my former self. The barriers I’d built had to come down. This is who I am now. I accept it. I welcome it. I seize it by the fucking balls and bend it to my will.
I felt the break, the snap of final resistance giving way. I burned, but the burn felt good, strangely . . . right.
I know who I am now.
When I opened my mouth to issue my commands, there was enough force behind them that Sachâth would notice.
I tilted my head back, shouting the words into the sky. With intent, I commanded the darkness to move, to swirl like a hurricane. Bottle green flashes snaked like lightning through the undulating gray as its motion began to realign, slow and slumberous, a giant waking. I’d been inside that mass, courtesy of Llyran, and knew millions of tiny particles of raw energy were there for the taking.
Leander finally looked suitably impressed. But then his attention snapped off to the left. Fuck. Incoming. The sonic boom rent the air and shook the ground. Adrenaline pumped through my veins swift and strong.
I held on to the altar. Death was here.