I waited until Rex was out of sight before heading back to Pendaran’s side. Once there, I let out a loud sigh, knowing just how close we’d come to a bloodbath.
“Thank you,” I told him. “For showing restraint. I know that was hard.”
“You know nothing.”
I didn’t rise to the bait. “Look, if you just point me to the witness in question, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Doubtful,” he muttered. “Since your witness is standing before you, Detective.”
I stared blankly at him for a moment. Pen was the witness. Perfect.
“It was a jinn.” His tone was low and deep and full of soft menace. No wonder he’d nearly gone medieval on Rex. He knew what he saw and believed it.
“Tell me what you saw.”
Pen shoved his hands back in his pockets and turned once again to stare out at the water. “I saw,” he began in a condescending tone, “a jinn.”
“Yeah, already got that part. What else did you see?”
His highly imperious expression said he’d already answered my question and was done. I was dismissed.
I plastered a thin smile on my face and tapped into my Mommy Calm. “If you say ‘a jinn’ one more time, I’ll have to turn into Bad Charlie. We don’t want that, do we? I have a brand-new shirt on today that I happen to like, and my favorite boots, so let’s not soil them with ye ole dragon’s blood and tears, which is what’ll happen if you don’t start cooperating, so . . .”
An eye roll and the relaxing of his jaw gave me the opening I was hoping for. “Look, Pen. I want to help here, but I can’t do it unless you go through the motions with me. That means giving me every minute detail even if it seems unrelated or mundane to you. Let me do my job, okay? You trusted me once when Daya was killed. You have to trust me again.”
Well, he’d sort of trusted me. Ordering Orin and Killian to follow me around as I investigated Daya’s murder and giving me that insane ultimatum to solve the case on his timetable wasn’t exactly trusting, but he hadn’t interfered, and he’d come through when I needed him. His trust didn’t come easy, but I felt we had something of a relationship now, one forged on the battlefield atop Helios Tower against the Sons of Dawn and Grigori Tennin, one forged on common goals and secrets that could shatter worlds.
“I was sleeping in the lake, in the cave . . .” The cave which held the agate sarcophagus containing Ahkneri. Pen cleared his throat. “Killian was on patrol on the east side of the Grove.”
My stomach dropped. “Not Killian.”
But Pen didn’t react to my outburst; he stared straight ahead, lost in his memories, while my chest burned and my fists clenched. Goddammit . . . No, no, not Killian!
“There was no scent,” Pen went on, “no disturbance, or identifiers. I should’ve been able to smell an intruder, to feel a presence other than nymph. Even beneath the water, I know who comes and goes. I am the protector of my kin. . . .” Frustration and guilt edged his deep voice. After a long moment, he continued. “The only thing I did notice was the scent of adrenaline and then Killian howling. I shot from the lake, knowing he was already dead.” He pointed to the eastern shore. “And I saw a gray-skinned being throw a wolf into the water. The wolf changed to nymph as Killian’s spirit left him. I gave chase, but it was like chasing a shadow. The speed was incredible, a blur. There was no scent to follow . . . nothing.”
“Did you see the eyes?”
Pen paused and I could tell he really wanted to say yes. A jinn’s eyes glowed a reddish violet when they fought or experienced rage. There’d be no way one could’ve fought and killed Killian without his or her eyes turning. And they were the only off-worlders with that specific trait.
“No. But the build was very large, tall and bulky, like a jinn.”
“What about hair? The males are bald and the women usually have braids . . .”
He shook his head. “I didn’t notice the hair or lack thereof. I only noticed the shape and body color. And,” he added with a heavy sigh, “the scent of death as I returned to the Grove.”
“Did you or anyone else try to get him out of the water?” It’s every investigator’s hope that a victim remained untouched, but the fact that Killian had stayed in the lake, that no one had tried to save him or resuscitate him, bothered me. He was a good guy. He’d put himself in harm’s way helping me in the battle on Helios Tower . . . He was quiet, capable, sarcastic. He deserved an attempt, at least.
“He was dead before he hit the water, Charlie. Nothing could’ve changed that. I went after the jinn. I called your chief from a borrowed cell phone after I gave up the search, and by the time I got back, your medical examiner was already here and”—he glared at Liz as Killian’s body was being pulled onto the shore—“that tiny Asian necromancer wouldn’t allow me near the body.”
“That’s Liz for you,” I said quietly. “She’s always been possessive about her work.”
“She shoved me.”
I blinked at that. Liz had a razor-sharp tongue and balls of steel, but I’d never known her to get physical. And I certainly couldn’t picture her small frame squaring off against a six-foot-four wall of off-world power and muscle. “If she pushed you, my guess is you probably deserved it. No offense.”
His deepening frown told me I was right. “She’s a menace.”
I let out a tired sigh, trying to explain without scolding him. “Because you made such a menace of yourself when Daya died, calling the morgue every day and making unreasonable demands instead of letting her do her job. Otherwise,” I said gently, “she might’ve gone easier on you today.”
His eyes narrowed on me and the imperialism was back. “Are you scolding me, Detective?” he asked softly. “You overstep. Again.”
“Yet another one of my gifts.”
Pen shook his head as though I was a lost cause, but I liked to think that underneath his gruffness, he admired the fact that I poked holes in his I-was-once-worshipped-as-a-Celtic-god complex.
“Look . . . I really am sorry about Killian. I . . . liked him. He was a good guy. I understand where you’re coming from. I do. But try to ease up a little and let us do our jobs. I’ll keep you in the loop with whatever we find out.” I took a chance and gave his big shoulder a pat, which only resulted in him looking at me like I’d gone mad. “I’m going to get Rex to take a look at things. I’ll let you know what he says.”
“How can you trust anything he says? He’s a jinn. He’d never incriminate his own kind.”
“Rex has no ties to Tennin’s tribe or any other. His only tie is to me, me and my daughter . . . We’re his tribe now. Go get some rest, talk to your kin, grab something to eat. I’ll check in with you later.”
I began to walk away, but he called my name. I turned back toward him with a questioning look.
“I hear you’re going to Fiallan tomorrow to retrieve the siren.”
A sudden lightness spread through my belly at the words. “That’s right.”
Pen nodded, his grim face unreadable, but his eyes taking on a sincere light. “Good luck.”
The corner of my mouth lifted. “Thanks.”
As I left the dock, I watched Liz on the shore as she gently pulled Killian over onto his back. His skin was marble white, stark against his usual dark clothes and wet black hair. Grief squeezed my throat and my shoulders sagged in sadness.
I had to leave tomorrow, and I hated the idea of leaving Killian’s case in the hands of someone else. But nothing short of a family emergency would stop me from bringing Hank home. The siren wasn’t only my partner; he was my family, too, the person who’d had my back from day one. Hank and I . . . we’d grown from partners to friends to something more, something that felt like it had real possibilities. But fate seemed hell-bent on keeping us from figuring out exactly what those possibilities were.
I found Rex in the temple courtyard, reclining back on a chaise lounge, eyes closed, ankles crossed, and hands tucked behind his head.
He’s a work in progress, I told myself in a rare moment of optimism.
Drawing in a steadying breath to get my mind back on task, I nudged Rex’s feet off the side of the lounge with my boot. “Stop goofing off, we have work to do.”
His eyes cracked open. “I have decided I want a consultant fee.”
My brow lifted. Rex actually bringing home a paycheck? Now that would be a novelty I’d welcome. “I’ll submit a request to the chief. Come on, we have work to do.”
I led Rex to the shore of the lake where Liz was making her first necromantic pass over the body, trying to pick up any residual traces of crafting or imprints on the body. If the perp was a crafter, she’d be able to tell. Her hand moved over his torso, palm down, a couple inches over the body. Her glossy black bob was tucked behind both ears, allowing me to see the frown pulling down her mouth.
I dropped onto my haunches on Killian’s other side. “Anything?”
Using her knuckle, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Nothing. The water doesn’t help.” Her gaze turned to Rex. “You sure he can pick up something?”
Rex scoffed. “He’s sure.”
Liz didn’t bother hiding her dubious expression. But she stood and stepped back from the body. “No touching.”
“Don’t need to. I can tell you already, there wasn’t a jinn around this guy.”
Liz folded her arms over her chest. “Just like that.”
“Just like that.”
“And how does that work, exactly?”
Rex shrugged. “Like any other animal that can scent their own kind. If a jinn fought with him, I’d be able to tell.”
And if Killian had been killed by a jinn, there was no doubt in my mind he would’ve put up one hell of a fight. A jinn scent would be all over him, water or not.
“Hmm. We’ll see.” Liz cast a glare over at the dock where Pen made no secret about watching our every move. “You think you can keep His Highness off my back for a couple days?”
“I’ll try. But give him a break. He’s lost two of his own in the last few weeks. I’m taking Rex over to where Pen saw Killian being thrown into the water. Keep me posted.”
“As always. Who’s going to take point on this when you leave tomorrow? And please, please, please don’t say Ashton.”
“Okay, I won’t.” At her look, I apologized. “Sorry, I know he rubs you the wrong way, too. If I had my way, it would be Thompson or Lesley, but they’re both up to their eyeballs in the crap Tennin’s been pulling lately in Underground—small-time stuff, I know, but I think it’s the jinn boss’s idea of breaking them in.”
“Naw, I think ole GT just misses you and wants you back patrolling Underground as usual, so he’s making a fuss.”
I chuckled at that. “Right. I’ll get the chief to brief Ashton and tell him to tone it down and not push so many buttons with the Kinfolk and Pen. Tensions will be running high enough already . . .”
Liz resumed her necromantic check over Killian’s body as Rex wandered to the shoreline. “Well, it sucks you have to leave at a time like this, but thank God you’re going in to get Hank. The thought of him being in that grid . . . How do you think talks will go?”
“In our favor, I hope. The delegates have been there for two days already, so let’s pray they’ve made some progress. I’d like to have the way cleared for Titus to work on releasing Hank from the grid.”
“Nice having the most famous scientist in the world on your side.” Liz called over her shoulder for a body bag. “You’ll bring him home,” she told me, sounding certain. She stood. “Then you two can finally stop hedging.”
“Hedging?”
She gave me that smart-ass look of hers, which I returned in kind. “It means stop being a chickenshit and take a chance. You and Hank are good for each other. God knows you deserve some happiness.” Her apprentice/assistant returned with a bag. I hadn’t seen him for a couple months, but he still looked ten years old to me.
“Hey, Charlie.”
“Hi, Elliot. How’s middle school treating you?”
His grin went deep. “Haha.” He rolled his eyes and moved to help Liz with the bag.
I stared down at Killian, sobering. “Take care of my friend here.”
“We will,” Liz said. “Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
Rex and I made our way around the lake. It took longer than it should have due to the docks, temples, and homes we had to go around. The shore where Killian had most likely died was already taped off and a couple of uniformed officers and Kinfolk were walking in a grid pattern over the ground, looking for any evidence that might have dropped to the soft cushion of grass and leaves.
Signs of the fight were everywhere along this portion of the wooded shoreline. Deep ruts had been torn into the ground. A few branches on the trees were broken. Blood splatters . . . Killian had put up a damned good fight—as to be expected from one of the Druid King’s enforcers.
“Anything?” I asked Rex.
He shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know what the Druid saw, but it wasn’t a jinn. If there was any signature, it would be here of all places.”
Which was an enormous relief. But now we were left back at square one.
“You can always get a rogue jinn in here for a second opinion,” Rex said, mistaking my silence as questioning his ability.
“Do I need a second opinion?”
“No. Just thought it might make you feel better. I’m gonna walk around a little bit.”
“All right. Go slow. And watch your step. If you see anything that shouldn’t be here—footprints, clothing, trash, anything—call out, don’t touch it.”
“I got it. No touching.”
As he walked off I asked, “You need a flashlight?”
He smiled over his shoulder, shook his head, and then continued into the darkness of the woods. Guess he had his jinn night vision back as well.
Alone now, I moved slowly toward the water. Even though beams of flashlights darted through the trees and small sounds from the officers reached me, I suddenly felt very isolated. Even the temperature felt colder than it had seconds ago. The sounds of the city beyond and the activity from across the lake faded into the background, making the lapping of the water against the shore louder.
The marks on my right arm ached—a weird stinging burn, the intensity coming and going. I stopped, the toes of my boots inches from the water, wondering if it was because I was so close to Ahkneri and her divine weapon—the thing had nearly burned my hand and arm to a crisp, leaving behind the strange markings that Aaron, the Magnus mage, believed to be the language of the First Ones.
Well, the language fucking hurt.
I kneaded my forearm, trying to find some relief as I stared at the dark lake and the city lights reflecting off its surface like a million tiny gems. If I listened hard enough Ahkneri’s ancient whispers would become clearer. If I let my guard down I could hear more than her. I could hear strangers, bits and pieces of conversations that meant nothing to me, that just seemed to filter in like I was some sort of transistor radio. Occasionally my reality would really screw up and things I shouldn’t be able to see through or into, I suddenly could.
I turned away from the lake and resumed my study of the area. I might’ve missed the long, arcing scar in the tree if it hadn’t been eye level and a sliver of bark missing to reveal the lighter wood beneath. The cut was thin and clean. Razor-sharp, too. A breeze stirred the woods and a flash of movement caught my eye. I stepped closer to the tree to find a long white hair caught in the corner of the scar.
Killian had black hair.
Male jinn were bald. And no female jinn had long white hair unless they were elderly. The exception was Sian, the human/jinn female currently working as our office assistant. She also happened to be Grigori Tennin’s daughter, but while Tennin was harsh, demanding, and confrontational, Sian was soft, timid, and kind. If Pen had seen a huge, dark figure, I was pretty sure I could rule out both an elderly jinn female and Sian. The only other race of beings that came to mind were the sidhé fae warriors who had appeared in the oracle’s club on New Year’s Eve, looking for me and the sarcophagus. Albeit they had light gray skin, not dark, but anything in these woods would seem darker than normal . . .
“There was a jinn here.”
Rex’s voice nearly gave me a heart attack. I swung around, heart in my throat. And then his words sank in. “A jinn was here? Where?”
“Came over the fence, through the woods. Stopped a few feet back from the scene and that’s it. Like he watched and then went home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Shit.” So the jinn were snooping around in nymph territory. Near the lake. Near Ahkneri. Could be, if the hair belonged to a sidhé fae, the jinn had merely followed the fae. Tennin’s goons had been at the club that night, too. The fae hadn’t exactly made their purpose a secret, either. Tennin would be smart to stick a tail on them just in case they found the sarcophagus before Tennin did. I glanced down at the hair strand knowing it could just as easily be human or any number of beings, but . . .
Christ, this is a mess. I parked my hands on my hips and watched Rex wander along the lake’s edge, head down, occasionally bending over to look at something.
How do they know you’re here? I asked, more to myself than to the being in the lake, but her voice flowed through my mind with an answer.
They follow the signs.
What signs?
The call of power. The wakening. And . . . you.
Me?
. . . Perhaps.
I glared at the lake. Ahkneri should’ve been in league with the oracle using a cryptic answer like that. A straight answer, for once, just once, would’ve been nice.
Laughter breezed through my mind. That was a straight answer. You are an . . . uncertainty. A divine being, made not born, imbued with the blood of the three noble races my kind created. You are like us, but not. An unknown. A confusion.
I knew several people who would totally agree with those words, and I was one of them. Ever since I’d been brought back to life a year ago, the Adonai and Charbydon noble genes I was given were fusing with my own human code. I was becoming like those who had seeded the three races. The First Ones. That was the theory, anyway.
“Who are they? Who follows the signs?” I asked her.
“So is that like a rhetorical question or do you really want me to answer?” Rex stood beside me, staring at the lake as if trying to figure out who I was talking to. Apparently I’d asked my questions aloud.
“Not unless you know more about those sidhé fae we ran into at the oracle’s club,” I said, pulling a set of plastic gloves from my pocket.
“You mean the night I kicked ass?” Rex’s mouth twitched. “It kills you that I have skills, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I shot him an eye roll and handed him the small plastic evidence bag and extra pair of gloves Liz had given to me earlier. “Here. Put these on and hold this open. Skills or not, you shouldn’t be fighting. If Will’s body takes a mortal blow, you’ll be heading straight to the Afterlife. No wandering around until you find another body. You’ll be gone. Finished. Game over.”
“And your worry for me comes out of a deep, unwavering love, is that it?” I went to reply, but he cut me off, saying, “I knew I was growing on you.”
Whatever I was about to say deflated and I was left shaking my head. I gently removed the hair from the tree. There was no need to deny it; Rex was growing on me. Already had, in fact. He’d become an indispensable part of my family and a huge part of my daughter’s life. I’d thought living with him would be strange and uncomfortable, and at first it was. Now, I couldn’t imagine him gone.
Once the hair was in the bag, Rex sealed it. “To answer your question, no, I don’t know any more about those puffed up old faeries than I did before. I thought you asked Sian of the Beautiful White Hair to dig around.”
“I did.” Rex fell in step beside me as I headed back to the main temple to deliver my find. “She hasn’t turned up much other than a few vague mentions about a very old, very secretive warrior sect. And as we all know, legends turn out to be true in most cases. Those guys were definitely old school . . . And speaking of Sian, is it really necessary to call her every day? You do know she’s not interested in guys, right?” The memory of finding Sian clutching Daya’s photo came to mind. From the moment Rex had seen Sian, when she’d pulled a gun on me and shoved me into an alley in Underground, he’d been smitten, too smitten to even come to my aid—not that I’d needed him to. But still. It was the principle . . .
“I’m just being friendly,” he said defensively. “Nothing wrong with chatting and getting to know someone. Consider it therapy,” he said, amused by his logic.
“And what? You’re the doctor of the shy and introverted?”
He laughed. “Sure, if you want to call it that. I’m helping her come out of her shell a little, all pro bono, of course. And who knows. She might swing both ways.”
“Rex!”
He was grinning like a damned idiot. I wasn’t sure whether he was being serious or just giving me a hard time like usual. But I decided not to proceed down that particular road. If Rex wanted to beat himself up against the impenetrable shell that was Sian, then he’d do it whether I advised against it or not.
After giving the bag to Liz, Rex and I left the Grove. Pen wasn’t in sight, and I didn’t go in search of him. I’d call him later. He wouldn’t see having a possible jinn witness to Killian’s murder as a positive thing. In fact, he’d most likely scour the jinn underground to find said witness and end up causing a war we didn’t need.
I dropped Rex off at the house and then drove back to the station to file a report and talk to the chief about handing the case over to Ashton Perry, a.k.a. “Asston,” and his crew. They’d have to be briefed on Pen’s sometimes volatile nature, and the current state of relations between him and Tennin.
As I exited the elevator onto the fifth floor and headed down the hall, Sian stepped out of our office, saw me, and froze like a thief caught red-handed.
Immediately, I knew something was wrong.
Her hand was still on the doorknob, holding it ajar, but her eyes were pinned on me and her pale gray skin went paler. Slowly, her expression went from shocked to sad. What the hell?
“Sian,” I said, approaching. “What’s wrong?”
My voice was like a jolt. She jumped, blinked, and then stammered. She was such a contradiction, this tall, beautiful creature with indigo eyes, a cascade of white hair, and a body that wouldn’t quit. Her hand shook as she smoothed down a black pencil skirt.
“What happened? What is it?”
“Charlie, it’s . . .” Normally she exuded a calming vibe that could lull even the most aggressive creature and yet I wasn’t getting that from her. “I’m so sorry, they—”
The chief peered around the door.
“Chief,” I said slowly, starting to feel scared, “what the hell’s going on?”
He held the door wider. Sian stepped back and looked at the ground. “Come on in, Charlie,” he said gently, too gently for the chief. The guy was a bulldozer of a man, in looks, in speech, in everything he did. He didn’t do anything gently.
I followed him through the maze of discarded office equipment that made up the front portion of our work space. We’d cleared out a large corner near the kitchenette, made a private office for the chief, and claimed the open area where Hank, Sian, and I had our desks.
It was also where six delegates made up of civil rights attorneys, Federation representatives, and ITF officials happened to be standing—the same six who were supposed to be in Fiallan working toward the release of my partner.
That they were here now . . .
Oh, God.