We drove into one of the delivery lanes near Underground, parked, and then Hank heaved Len over his shoulder. Making a scene hadn’t been something we’d planned for. In fact, we really didn’t have a plan at all. Unless walking into the Lion’s Den and asking the biggest tribe boss this side of the Mason-Dixon to forgive an unforgiveable debt was a plan—well then, we had a doozy.
I followed Hank’s large form through Underground, acutely aware of the stares and openmouthed gawks we received. It wasn’t every day you saw a siren carrying an unconscious jinn through the streets.
Despite the old-fashioned-style streetlamps that burned twenty-four hours a day, the light on Solomon Street was murky at best, the perfect environment for crooks and convicts. Old Savannah bricks paved the street. Peddlers occupied alleyways. Butcher shops, inns, bars, herberies, magic shops, and strip clubs practically spilled onto the sidewalk. Doors stayed open. Inventory was piled against walls and storefronts. Small carts had permanent spaces on curbs. Open fires burned in barrels, making the air steamier than normal. This was the Charbydon quarter, and while they could tolerate the sunlight, they liked things crowded, hot, and dark.
Despite the atmosphere, there was a modicum of safety here during the day. The true danger lurked in the back rooms, alleys, and late nights. But for me, daytime or not, the danger was very real with a debt hanging over my head.
The farther we went down Solomon Street, the more attention we attracted. Business owners and patrons came out of storefronts to watch our procession. There was no way to hide the artificial pheromones Len cast off. Every jinn female stopped and sniffed the air as we passed by. In the darkness, their rapt violet eyes glowed eerily, lit from within.
No one stopped us. There was no need. From the moment we stepped onto Solomon Street, Grigori Tennin had known. I cast a glance over my shoulder, and wasn’t surprised to see the hulking silhouettes of four jinn warriors following behind us, spanning the breadth of the street, their dark forms passing in and out of shadow and the orange glare of open fires. There was no turning back now.
Tennin’s home and business encompassed the long stretch of buildings at the dead end of the street. A sleazy strip club, bar, and gambling establishment called the Lion’s Den was the tribe’s base of operations. The bar and strip club covered the first floor. The upper level housed the gambling parlor. The tribe, however, lived in the earth.
Underneath Solomon Street, the jinn had excavated a vast network of tunnels and chambers.
Bulky ironwork framed the rough-planked front door, the coarse handle warm to my touch as I opened the heavy door. The heat had become oppressive. Sweat beaded my brow and lower back. I stood back, allowing Hank to cross the threshold. He wasn’t immune to the heat either, or the strain of carrying two hundred plus pounds of jinn warrior. Sweat dampened his shirt and face and darkened his blond hair.
Once inside, the first thing to hit me was the smell; of earth, wood-smoke, and tar. It was like we had just descended into a deep cave near an active volcano.
The bar was doing steady business. A darkling fae—a sidhé fae would never be caught dead in a place like this—danced onstage to an old seductive jazz tune I couldn’t name. She was topless and wore only knee-high red boots and a sequined red thong. While her reed-like luminescent body writhed to the music, her face was passionless and void. She danced on autopilot, her slanted eyes open but glazed over and never really focusing on anyone or anything.
A jinn worked behind the bar. The tables were waited on by two jinn females. They were muscular and just as menacing as the males. Except for their gray skin, they reminded me of Amazon warriors with their long black braids and sinewy forms. The rest of the patrons were jinn, ghouls, imps, goblins, and one or two humans thrown in.
As soon as Hank deposited the spell-drunk Len on the wooden floor, the two jinn females swung their heads in our direction and stilled completely, trays in hand, and eyed us with a hunger that bordered on violence.
A bouncer came forward just as our escorts entered behind us. We were surrounded.
Like a domino effect, each being realized who I was. The fae backed off the stage as tension and the unmistakable scent of bloodlust added its mix to the thick earthy air.
“Tell Grigori Tennin we’re here,” I said, surprised that my voice came out steady.
The bouncer curled his lip and prepared to either spit at me or curse me, but before he could do either, I grabbed his wrist, whirled behind him, and brought his arm to his back, wrenching it as high and hard as I could and bending three of his fingers back at an unnatural angle. I might have been smaller and lighter, but I could bring any male to his knees. And this one hit the floor hard. I shoved my knee against the back of his neck, holding him down. He growled. Chairs scraped across the floor. Weapons were drawn and my heart pounded with adrenaline.
No one moved.
Hank had moved beside me, Nitro-gun drawn.
A door along the back wall creaked and my eye moved off the bartender with his shotgun propped on the bar, aimed at my chest.
A female walked through, tall and unusual looking with large, slanted eyes, a wide mouth, and high cheekbones. Her skin was the color of muted silver, without the shine, and without a single blemish. A hybrid. A rare and prized commodity in the jinn world—the only place one like her was accepted in society. Aboveground she would have experienced discrimination from almost every off-world quarter imaginable. A sad, but true, fact of life. It wasn’t fair, by any means.
She walked with slow, fluid steps, her lithe body accentuated by a dark gray jersey dress that ended at the knee and black knee-high boots that added four inches to an already tall frame. While the dress covered her from neck to wrists to knee, it molded to her body and was more provocative than the naked stripper on stage.
As she drew closer, I saw she had the most incredible eyes: violet and indigo blue, a mix I’d never seen on human or off-worlder. They were framed by thick lashes and long, heavy snow-white hair parted in the middle and swept back into a spiky pile at the base of her neck. She was striking, and I found myself staring despite the things I’d seen in my lifetime. I snuck a quick glance at Hank, hoping it wasn’t just me. He had the same fascinated reaction.
In fact, everyone had the same reaction, and I got the feeling they knew her but didn’t get to see her nearly as much as they would’ve liked.
She didn’t seem to care about the weapons or the state of near-war in the bar. Her gaze was fixed on me, and she seemed to find the whole thing rather dull. She halted in front of us, taller than me, but only because of the high-heeled boots. Her eyes flicked to Hank and then back to me as her nostrils flared slightly, sampling the air around me. Her eyelids drifted closed for a second. “Hmm,” she barely breathed. A cold hand closed lightly over mine, and I released my hold on the bouncer as though in a trance.
She leaned in closer as though breathing me in. The invasion of my personal space should’ve alarmed me, but I didn’t care. My pulse leapt, and I had to force my eyelids to remain open as she leaned toward the left side of my face and neck. A shiver pricked my skin. The scent of pine and earth and something more feminine surrounded her, a faint aroma of fresh mint mixed with something else. Lavender, perhaps. Her soft chuckle stirred my hair.
“Grigori will see you,” she said in a deep, smoky tone, straightening back up and then walking back to the side door.
Hank shot me a quick questioning look as we moved forward. I shrugged, not understanding what had just happened any more than he did. The hybrid didn’t bother waiting for us to catch up.
I resisted the urge to fix my hair and smooth the skirt and torn sweater set. Instead of looking like a tough-as-nails officer, I was going into Grigori Tennin’s lair looking like some deranged secretary. Figured. I was going to make an impression, all right, just not the one I would have liked.
The hybrid led us down a long flight of creaking wooden stairs. The air became wetter and substantially thicker with the smell of warm dirt and stone. The walls had been left bare. Massive wooden beams held up doorways and supported the ceiling in places. Ditches lined either side of the walkway to hold water and condensation that collected on the walls. We passed rooms open to view, fire pits dug into the centers and the ceilings outfitted with a fan-driven ventilation system to draw out the smoke.
I’d heard about this place for years, but this was a moment I never thought I’d see. It may be the last thing you see, I thought.
“Hey.” Hank’s hand nudged my shoulder. “On the left.”
I followed his gaze and saw a room occupied by male and female jinn. A few were seated at a large table with piles of flower blossoms spread across the surface. The flowers were easily the size of a man’s hand with snow-white petals and the most riveting center I’d ever seen; each one glowed like moonlight and was ringed by a jagged ribbon of red that leaked down the center of each petal like bloody spikes. Jinn females were removing the petals and tossing the centers into a large pot placed over the fire.
The corridor was filled with the scent of honeysuckle.
Ash. It had to be.
The hybrid led us into a vast chamber with torches burning along the walls and a great fire pit in the center. Jinn lurked together in dark corners, sitting around the fire and at tables. All eyes lifted at our procession. This was the largest gathering of females I’d ever seen, and they were all fixated on me. At first I thought it was Hank, but after meeting a few of those disturbing stares, I knew it was me they’d latched on to, and the realization was unsettling.
At the end of the chamber sat an enormous wooden table. Grigori Tennin occupied one long side, facing us.
He was bigger, darker, and meaner-looking than any other jinn around. Colossal shoulders filled the back of an ornately carved chair. He wore a black T-shirt, which had to be XXXL, but it was pulled taut over beefy muscles. He had the thickest neck I’d ever seen. His back was to the wall and on either side of him, standing like sentinels ready to defend, were two jinn females decked in war regalia. Their arms were folded across their chests and their intense regard missed nothing. Their nostrils flared ever so slightly as I approached.
We stopped, as the hybrid walked to the short side of the table and slid into the only empty chair. Grigori didn’t look up; too busy cutting a plate-sized steak with a serrated dagger. A goblet of red wine sat next to the pewter plate. He stuck a piece of meat into his mouth and then grabbed the goblet, the rings on his large fingers flashing in the firelight.
His wide jaw flexed like a pit bull’s as he chewed. After he swallowed and drank deeply from the goblet, he relaxed against the back of the chair and wiped his mouth. I hadn’t come all this way to watch the man eat his dinner and made a move to say so, but Hank’s hand on my arm stopped me.
Finally, Grigori turned his attention to us, a faint violet gleam lighting the depths of sharp, calculating eyes.
“I ask myself,” he began in a deep, accented baritone, which seemed to have an echo all its own, “how is this … Detective Madigan, a female who killed two of my warriors, going to come out of this visit with her head still attached to her scrawny human body?”
The hybrid’s mouth quirked. “You can give her to the females. She reeks of sex. Even I can smell it on her.”
My head whipped to Hank as heat shot to my face. Seriously. I was going to murder him. Apparently the spell worked on other species as well. Len wasn’t the only one capable of attracting the entire female jinn population. No wonder they were following my every move with such intensity. It was lust. And it was all over me.
Grigori leaned to the side and smoothed a dark thumb down the hybrid’s cheek, but his attention remained fixated on me. “Sian is my daughter. My only heir. She is unique, you see, prized, for human and jinn blood rarely mix. But look at the beauty it creates, beauty the rest of the world shuns.” Suddenly his hand went to her throat, and he squeezed hard, practically pulling her onto the table. Her eyes bulged and began to water. Grigori’s gaze burned into mine and took on a fervent glow. “But even she is subject to the laws of the tribe. Don’t think I wouldn’t strike her down.”
He shoved her back into the chair. My heart raced as she coughed and quietly tried to overcome near strangulation by her own father. I’d gotten what I came for—evidence that the jinn were manufacturing ash. Now I just needed to figure out the connection to the CPP, and get the jinn off my back long enough to get out of here alive and then gather the troops to put a stop to their entire operation.
“This isn’t Charbydon,” Hank spoke up, his voice coated with steel. “Here you’re subject to human law.”
The jinn in the chamber nervously mimicked their leader’s rumbling chuckle. Grigori eyed Hank beneath hooded lids. Hank’s air of confidence never wavered. Grigori leaned forward and plucked his wine goblet off the table, swirling the liquid inside. “Why come here, Detectives?”
“Ash.” I figured I might as well push this as far as I could. “You’re manufacturing it for the CPP.”
He slapped one beefy hand on the table and threw back his head. The deep laughter sent chills down my spine. No one else dared laugh with him. When he was done, he leaned forward and grinned like Satan himself. “So?”
“You’re not above the law.”
He sat back and threw his arms wide. “Look around you. I am the law. My word is law.” He paused. “You coming here … It amuses me. I assume you want to make payment or bargain?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
Blood pounded through my temples. I swallowed. “Do you take Visa?”
The entire room froze. Even Grigori.
My blood pressure soared. With one bad move I’d be history, and I prayed to God I was reading him right.
Another eruption of laughter boomed through the room, startling me and everyone else. Grigori’s chair shook with the sound. As it receded, he wiped the corners of his eyes with his napkin. “Charlie Madigan. You make me laugh. You’re not the brightest female in the world coming here like this, but you have grômms, I’ll give you that. You and me, we will bargain.”
A female jinn shot up from a table at the far end of the chamber. “She cannot bargain; she has nothing! Her blood, her blood for my Neruk!”
Jaws dropped. It was obvious she’d made a terrible, fatal mistake.
Grigori pushed back from the table and stood, both hands coming to rest flat on either side of his plate as he focused on her. Her dark gray skin turned to light ash. She fell to her knees and tripped over desperate-sounding words in the jinn tongue.
A vein thickened in Grigori’s temple and ran back along his bare head. His eyes glowed brighter and brighter. His breathing became shallow, taxed, but also in a way that suggested he relished this part of his job. He shouted something short and brusque, causing the female’s head to jerk up. Their eyes connected. Power leaked into the chamber. The hairs on my arms rose as the female’s eyes began to glow so bright, they burned. No one moved to help her. A primal scream tore from her throat as violet-orange flame shot from her eye sockets and open mouth.
Appalled silence descended on the chamber as she fell over dead, black blood and brain matter leaking from her ears, eye sockets, and open mouth.
I gulped down the repulsion that rose in my throat, stunned by her death. I knew the jinn had power, and I also knew the tribe boss possessed the power of life and death over his tribe. I just never realized how literal that statement really was until now.
Hank emanated such intense fury that I closed my hand over his wrist and squeezed.
Grigori scanned the room, daring anyone else to object. Satisfied, he sat down and resumed eating. After he stuffed another huge piece of steak in his mouth, he said, “What can you give me? Why do you come here instead of awaiting my summons?”
Good question. “I came to ask for time, and for information.”
“You are confused.” He waved his fork as he spoke. “You, Detective, owe me. Not the other way around.”
“I don’t have the monetary value of your two warriors,” I said carefully. “And I probably never will. But I do have access to the ITF, to things you might find useful.” Hank went rigid beside me. I was treading a very thin line between good cop and bad cop, but I had to find something that would satisfy Grigori for the time being. And then I’d arrest his ass for drug trafficking and murder. I’d say whatever I had to in order to walk out of there in one piece.
He thought as he chewed, eyeing me like a cat deciding how to first play with its mouse before devouring it. “I will consider debt paid for one of my warriors,” he began slowly, “if you arrange visitation for one of my jinn to see Lamek Kraw in cold cell” —he spat on the floor at those two words—“and you put my daughter on your payroll at ITF.”
Sian sucked in a horrified gasp, just as pleased as I was at the prospect of her working for the ITF.
Sure, getting her a position at ITF could be arranged if it came to that, but getting the folks at Deer Isle Federal Prison in Maine to pull Lamek Kraw out of cold cell confinement for a visit was going to be highly unlikely. But, with luck, I’d have Grigori Tennin joining his jinn brethren in the north as soon as I made it out of this cave.
“And for the second?” I asked.
“The second … I will think on it and let you know.”
“Done,” I said. “I’ll need time to make arrangements.”
Grigori shrugged as though he couldn’t care less, but I saw through the game. He had something brewing inside that huge skull of his and there was only one thing better to a jinn boss than extracting revenge in blood—putting the law in their pockets. Of course, I was lying my ass off and playing a dangerous game with a dangerous criminal, but I didn’t have any other options at the moment. I couldn’t hide from the jinn and the debt unless I wanted to leave town and disappear. And I wasn’t going to turn tail and run, not from my city.
“Jazel Tel is the name of my jinn who will go north. You have two days.”
My face was on fire, but I nodded, knowing full well he could see right through my lies, and that made me more concerned than anything else. With a dim glow in his cunning violet eyes, he leaned close and held out his massive hand.
The last thing I wanted was to make contact, but I wasn’t about to back down now. Gritting my teeth, I placed my hand in his, ready to shake on it, but he jerked me forward. My ribs crashed into the table as one of the female guards whipped out a wicked-looking blade, stepped to the table, and, in one swift movement, pressed the sharp tip against Hank’s Adam’s apple, blocking him from making a move.
Grigori slammed my hand down on the table and used his dagger to slice my palm clean open, the sting of cut flesh robbing me of breath. His hand held my wrist firmly, squeezing so hard I was sure the bones would crack. His wide nose nearly touched mine.
Indignation and rage fired my blood, surging through me with that familiar hum of power and clouding my vision so badly it was like wearing prescription eyewear that wasn’t yours. Nausea rolled through my stomach. I closed my eyes, using every ounce of strength to bank the power and stay in control.
“Swear it. Swear your oath now, Detective,” he demanded in a hiss of words, his eyes bright and fervent and his breath reeking of wine and steak. “In blood. At my table. Do it.”
My teeth ground together, as I wanted nothing more than to slam my fist into his overbearing face. “I swear.”
Grigori Tennin gave me one last hard look and then released me. “She is bound!” he shouted to the tribe, his words echoing deeply through the chamber.
I slumped against the table for a second to catch my breath and then pushed back, cradling my bloody hand and wondering if being “bound” was really as bad as it sounded. The guard sheathed her dagger and returned to her station behind Grigori.
Grigori’s mouth widened in a slow Cheshire grin. “Watch out for the rogues and sympathizers, though, Detective. There are many, I think, who would like to see your blood soak the ground.” He chuckled as though he’d made some intensely witty joke and then returned to his meal.
Without a parting look, I pivoted and limped out of the chamber, my ankle still sore. Asshole. The initial pain of the cut had subsided, leaving my palm with a strong, pulsating ache. “We need a sample of that drug,” I said to Hank as we passed through the stone archway.
“Not now.”
He grabbed my arm as I stumbled on the uneven ground, my chest burning with sour rage. His fingers squeezed my bicep, and he leaned slightly so our words wouldn’t carry down the corridor. “You’re bleeding, and unless you want to deal with the advances of a bunch of sex-crazed jinn, save it for another time.”
Our passing, well, my passing drew every jinn female to the archways to watch. “They wouldn’t care if it hadn’t been for you,” I whispered sharply.
We had to press our backs flat against the wall as a group of females carried Len like a trophy down the corridor. I suppressed a shiver at the bright gleam in their eyes. Poor guy had gotten way more than he’d bargained for when he bought that spell.
Once we were through the bar and out onto Solomon Street, I had to pause to catch my breath. Every muscle ached and the damn heels were getting on my last nerve. I wanted to hit something or scream at the top of my lungs. Instead I jerked off one of the pumps and flung it with a low screech at the brick wall. It bounced back and nearly hit Hank.
I stood there for a long moment, my good hand on my hip, in utter disbelief at how wrong everything was going. Hank picked up the pump and handed it to me. I glared at him for a long moment before taking the damn thing and putting it back on.
The streetlamp gave me just enough light to inspect my wounded palm. It was angry red and still bleeding. He’d cut me with his nasty steak knife, which meant I needed to disinfect ASAP. I marched down Solomon Street and didn’t stop until I came to the plaza where Solomon converged with Mercy and Helios.
Hank was right behind me and grabbed my hand when I stopped. “Here. Let me see.” The grave sigh that followed and the grim set of his jaw made me snatch my hand away.
“What? It can’t be infected already.” I looked down. My heart skipped a beat. It was far from infected. It had partially healed. Already.
“You’ve started seeing auras. You went ballistic with those jinn in Underground. And you’re healing yourself.” He pulled me to large water fountain in the center of the plaza and held my hand underneath.
Cold water sent a welcome chill up my arm, and I gave up my anger and resistance, sitting tiredly on the fountain ledge as he rubbed the grime from my palm.
“There’s no doubt you have power,” he began, quiet and thoughtful. He didn’t have to tend to my wound, but I sensed he needed something to do. And for some reason, I let him. “It’s wild, sporadic, whatever it is …” A lock of sweat-dampened hair fell over his forehead and touched the bridge of his nose. He blew it out of the way, and it made me smile. “Your death could’ve unlocked dormant abilities, or maybe you’re just a late bloomer. We know it runs in the family because of your grandmother and Bryn …”
I didn’t enlighten him about the special relationship I’d had with my twin brother.
For so long I’d denied having or wanting any extra abilities beyond my own God-given human talents. But now, I couldn’t hide it. It was coming out of me whether I liked it or not. The lack of control freaked me out more than a little. I didn’t know when or where I’d lose it, and the last thing I wanted right now was to be hauled into ITF Headquarters for evaluation and specialized training.
“I know that look,” Hank interrupted my thoughts.
“What look?”
“The Queen of Denial look. It’s a little too late for that.”
“I wasn’t going to deny it,” I muttered. “I just don’t want it, whatever it is.”
“What’re you so afraid of? The average population would kill for any kind of psychic gift, much less the power to heal themselves.”
The rhythmic fall of water into the basin should have been calming. The cool spray of water should have doused the heat in my face. But it didn’t. What did he know anyway? “I’m not afraid.”
Since it was a lame denial, he didn’t bother with a reply, just dropped my hand, sat down on the ledge, rested his elbows on his knees, and pressed both palms against his tired eyes. “The chief might be able to get Sian some sort of dummy job and even pull strings at Deer Isle, but he isn’t going to authorize a raid on the Lion’s Den.”
“Tennin practically admitted it. Besides, you saw them making it.”
“You’re always so gung-ho, Charlie,” he said, flicking a glance my way. “We saw them making something. That’s not enough to go up against an entire tribe.”
“And you’re always so damn cavalier. If I wasn’t a walking sex pheromone, I probably could’ve snagged one of those flowers. Then the lab could’ve analyzed it, connected it to ash, and maybe we would’ve had something solid to take to the chief. And if I don’t arrest Tennin’s ass in two days, he’s going to come after mine.”
His shoulder slumped, and his hands grabbed both sides of his head. A short laugh, devoid of humor, escaped him. Then he straightened and looked at me with a wry smile. “Guess lobbing that spell vial wasn’t the best idea in the world.”
Yeah.
He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll see what the chief can do about Lamek Kraw and Sian. It might be better coming from me.” I rolled my eyes, but Hank had a point. He was way better at defusing the chief’s temper than me. I always seemed to make things worse. “You want me to walk you to Bryn’s, protect you from all your hard-up jinn fans?”
“Ha, ha.” It was only a few yards from the plaza. I could make it on my own. I shook my head. “No, go home and get some rest. We’ll meet with Mott later. I’m gonna wash this spell off of me, and see if Bryn knows anything about that flower we saw. I’ll call you later.”
People passed by in a blur as I stared at the healing wound on my palm. Hank was right—most people would kill to have this ability, and I wasn’t knocking it, but the weight of the unknown, of what this might mean, turned my stomach. I’d faced down ghouls and hellhounds without blinking an eye. I wasn’t afraid. My throat closed as the truth danced in front of my face. I hated Hank in that moment, hated to admit that he’d nailed it.
Big deal. So I was a little hesitant to admit there was something massively wrong inside me. Not hesitant, you idiot. You’re scared shitless and you know it.
My shoulders slumped.
I didn’t want to be reminded. Feeling the strength and power inside of me was too familiar. It reminded me too much of Connor, of how it felt when he spoke to me in his mind, of all the times from our toddler years to our teens. Until you cut him off. The zing, the tiny hum of energy was him all over again. And honestly, it hurt too damn much to tolerate. The fact that part of it was a darkness that seemed to gain ground inside of me every day made it even harder to accept. I was supposed to be the good guy.
With a defeated sigh, I rearranged my hair and straightened the sweater set as best I could, but there was no hiding or fixing the tears in Bryn’s clothes. My ankle still hurt, though not as badly as before, and the pumps made an uneven clicking sound on the pavement as I limped toward Mercy Street.
Hodgepodge was busy as usual.
Through the window I caught a glimpse of Emma behind the counter, helping to wrap an item for a customer. The undercover officer, a rookie I’d seen at the station numerous times though never actually met, sat on a stool near the pub next door. He was inconspicuous enough—looked like a bouncer. When he gave me the once-over and recognized me, he nodded. I did the same back and then entered the shop.
Making a beeline to the counter was a little difficult in the maze of shelves, boxes, statues, and customers. Emma and Bryn were too exposed here. After making an enemy of the CPP today and the threat of rogues and vigilantes, I had to get them out of harm’s way. And there was still the issue of Grigori Tennin and the second debt hanging over my head.
My fingers drummed against my thigh as I waited for the Wiccan in front of me to pay for her sage bundle. It gave me time to scan the store, looking for anything or anyone suspicious. Gizmo was on guard near the door, and I found myself warming up to the idea of Bryn’s security system. At least it was something. The Wiccan brushed by me. Emma turned away from the back counter just as I stepped forward. Her face brightened.
Immediately, I put my finger to my lips and hushed the outburst I saw coming. The last thing I wanted was for everyone in the store to know she was my kid.
Bryn came over, her anklets tinkling with each step. “What’s wrong?” Then she noticed the ruined outfit. “What the hell happened to my clothes?” She took one step back and waved the air. “It smells like you went for a swim in an algae pond.”
“It’s nothing,” I said, not wanting to alarm Emma. “I was just thinking you could close the store early today.”
“But—”
I turned my back toward the counter so Em couldn’t see my face and gave my sister a look that spoke volumes. “Please, Bryn, for once just listen and don’t argue.” I didn’t want to frighten Emma, but the urgency to get them both safe ticked against my nerves like a time bomb. There were customers at my back, and any one of them could be a threat.
“Is this about Amanda?” Emma leaned over the counter. “And those jinn?” My head whipped around, and she held up her hands in an innocent gesture. “What? It’s all over the Internet and the TV. And stop looking at me like that. I’m not a baby. I’m almost twelve, and that’s almost a teenager.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And I know you didn’t shoot those guys because you wanted to. It’s your job, Mom. I get it.”
I blinked, feeling as though I’d just been whacked over the head with a cast-iron frying pan. Emma was at the age where acting smart, cool, and nonchalant was priority number one. Teen prep, I called it. I shook my head, knowing she had to be concerned, scared, worried … And it’d take some coaxing to get her to admit it.
“God,” Bryn said, “she sounds just like you, Charlie.” She whistled to Gizmo. “Come on, I guess we’re closing up shop.”
“Good, then Mom can take a shower,” Emma muttered under her breath as she put the wrapping paper under the counter.
Gizmo flew toward us, skimming the shelves and skid-landing on the back counter right next to a cat carrier, which, I realized, held Spooky.
“Hank dropped her off earlier,” Bryn said, watching Gizmo approach the cat crate, his pug-like face outstretched and sniffing. Suddenly, a black paw shot through the bars and smacked his nose. He squeaked and scrambled back, his claws scratching the counter.
As Bryn steadied Gizmo, I turned to face the patrons, studying each one.
Once the gargoyle had settled into a prone position on the counter, away from the cat, Bryn personally went around to each shopper letting them know the store was closing early and to bring any purchases to the counter. Of course, as a few stood in line to check out, others used the opportunity to keep shopping. I leaned against the counter, my fingers gripping the edge and itching to escort them out Atlanta PD style.
By the time everyone left, my patience had evaporated.
And then Will showed up.
Bryn was in the process of locking the door when he appeared on the other side. Emma raced to let him in, chatting away about school being cancelled.
I pulled Bryn aside, shoving my loose bangs behind my ear. The damn twist wasn’t holding. “What is he doing here?”
“I called him.”
“You what?”
She shrugged. “He needs to know what’s going on, Charlie. He’s seen the news. Can you blame him for being worried about you and Em? He is her father. He’s called three times trying to get in touch with you. It’s a legitimate concern.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and drew in air, wondering if having this much patience would qualify me for sainthood. Deep breath, Charlie. Trying to erase the last embarrassing scene with Will from my mind, being rejected after pleading with him to screw me against the wall, I went to tuck my thumbs into the waistband of what should have been jeans or sensible slacks, but I was still wearing the damned skirt.
Will noticed and his smile amplified to a thousand watts. “Funeral?”
I gave up and threw my hands in the air. “Why does everyone think just because I’m in a skirt that I’ve been to a funeral? I wear skirts …”
He and Bryn exchanged looks over the counter as she locked the register.
“Mom. You never wear skirts.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I said through gritted teeth as Emma leaned into Will and smiled. “You’ve been spending too much time with your Aunt Bryn. Go, get Spooky and we’ll take her upstairs.”
“I boarded your window,” Will said once Emma was out of range. “Cleaned up the glass, made sure all the locks were in good shape.” He didn’t mention the smell, but his gaze swept over the damaged outfit. “How are you holding up?”
My tension deflated a little. “Fine. Thanks for doing that. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
Accepting help from him, if it didn’t have to do with Emma, remained a hard pill to swallow. Even if he was just being nice. I’d made it a rule not to rely on him for things.
“All right, kids, let’s go,” I said, ushering them to the door. I’d feel much better when they were all safely inside the brick walls of Bryn’s apartment.
As Will followed Emma around to the apartment entrance, I waited for Bryn to lock the store as Gizmo flew to the second-story window and perched on the ledge where she’d let him in once we got inside.
She turned to me. “Ready?”
I fell in step beside her. “Thanks for closing the store.” She responded with a shrug. “I wanted to get your take on something I saw earlier in the Lion’s Den.”
She stopped, mouth open. “You went to the Lion’s Den?” I gave her the same simple shrug she’d just given me. “Oh, my God, Charlie.” Her hands went to her hips. “You made a bargain with him, didn’t you?”
“It’s not the end of the world,” I said defensively. “I have a plan … sort of …” Her eyes fluttered closed, and she mouthed a count of three, before I pulled her along to the door. “A flower,” I said, ignoring her lecture about making deals with devils, “as big as a man’s hand. White petals with, I swear to God, a white center that glowed.” She went quiet. “Like those plankton that glow in the ocean—”
“Bioluminescent,” she said softly.
“Exactly. The center was ringed with red and red streaks ran down the middle of each petal, but didn’t reach the end.” I held the apartment door open. “You’re the horticultural expert. What is it? And where is it from?”
We stepped inside, trailing Emma and Will. “Are you sure it was glowing and not just the light?”
“One hundred percent sure.”
“Seriously?”
We stopped on the third step. “Yeah, why, what is it?”
“And the red, it was bloodred, right?”
I frowned. “Bryn.”
Disbelief swam in her eyes and she let out a deep breath as though she didn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “Sangurne N’ashu. A Bleeding Soul. It’s not supposed to exist. It’s just a legend.”
“Well, not anymore.”