by Kelly Gay
“Fucking cops,” he mumbled, going back to flop down on the small cot pushed against the wall.
Bryn was in the last cell on the left, sitting on the cot, back against the plastic wall, one knee drawn up and her fingers toying with the ends of her long purple skirt. Her hair was down, hanging over one shoulder in a mass of auburn brown waves. Seeing my sister sitting in a holding cell was beyond strange.
I drew in a deep preparatory breath as the guard unlocked the door. Inside, I pulled the small stool from beneath the table along the opposite wall, and sat down in front of my sister. My posture slumped a bit. I rubbed my face and then gathered my hair back into a very tiny ponytail, using the band around my wrists to tie it.
“Sorry about all this.”
“It is what it is,” she said, eyeing me in an enigmatic way. “How’s Amanda doing?”
“Got a text a little while ago. She’s the same. Have you taken your ash dose today?”
She nodded. “A little while ago.”
“Good. Has Aaron been by?”
Her gaze darted back to her skirt. “No.”
I managed to keep the frustration from showing. Their relationship was none of my business, but damn, I wanted to give Aaron an earful. “I don’t know why he’s being like this,” I finally said. Well, I did know why, but he didn’t have to avoid her, or make her feel even worse about what had happened. By withdrawing right when she needed him most … it would make it that much harder to reconcile.
“I do have some good news,” I told her. Since she was here in the cell and there was no way for her to do anything with the information, I wanted to cheer her up, to give her some hope. “There is a way to see inside of you, inside of everyone here, and hopefully fix things.”
Her fidgeting fingers stilled. Her coppery eyes lifted, round and hesitant as though she was afraid to believe. “You found an exorcist?”
“No. The oracle told me that there’s another way. Ever hear of a sylph?”
“A sylph? Alessandra must be inhaling more than just laurel leaves these days. Sylphs don’t exist.”
“Oh, trust me, they do.” I leaned back, bracing myself with my elbows on the table behind me and linking my hands over my stomach. “Not very pleasant, either.” I went on to explain my encounters with the vicious little females.
“So, one more,” she finally said. “Fire.”
“And then we’ll know. We could know by tonight or tomorrow. Then at least we’ll know how to protect everyone, who to keep here, who to let go …”
She was silent, digesting the information. The hope I’d wanted to give her seemed to have failed, but maybe it was too early yet to hope. Maybe better to be guarded.
“So how’s Hank? Is he awake yet?”
“Yeah. He’s over in the morgue talking to Liz.”
“And?”
“And what?”
A rueful smile lifted the corners of her full mouth. “I am your sister. Sisters know things. For instance, I know every time his name has been mentioned in conversation, you get this weird look on your face. At Christmas when Em was talking about him, you even turned red. It’s kind of obvious you’re developing a thing for him.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, I don’t exactly know what this ‘thing’ is, so …” I sat forward and draped my arms over my knees. “Temporary case of insanity, maybe? I don’t know 8230; something changed. We went from being friends to something more.” I shook my head, baffled by it all.
“You think it’s the whole siren thing? Why you’re into him?”
“No.” I stared down at the square block of tile at my feet. “If that were the case, I would’ve been into him the moment I met him. Before, I just would say, ‘Yeah, really hot guy who’s my partner, let’s get back to work.’ But now I get butterflies, actual physical responses.”
She chuckled. “I never thought I’d hear the day my tough, kick-ass sister admitted to ‘butterflies.’”
“Oh God. Did I really say that?” My head dropped into my hands. Laughter shook my shoulders. I straightened, trying to control the stupid grin that wanted to take over my entire face. “I swear, if you say a word of this …”
“I know, I know. You’ll inflict some kind of horrible pain.”
“Yeah. Bare knuckles and butterflies, that’s me.” Christ. When did this happen?
Bryn’s laughter rang clear as a bell. It had been such a long time since I’d heard that. Open and free. Nothing shadowing it. Her smile widened to a blinding grin. “Well, good thing is, he’s totally into you. Always has been.”
“Please. What are you, the new oracle?”
“Say what you want. I bet you he fell for you the moment you didn’t go all googly eyes for him and shot him in the belly. Remember that?”
How could I forget? I’d been so pissed about the new partner reassignments that no amount of male beauty could’ve affected me. And to make matters worse, prior to meeting him, I’d had two days’ worth of teasing by most of the station telling me I was going to be humping my partner by sundown. They could be such assholes. And I’d let them get to me. Hank had no idea what he was walking into.
When I questioned his ability to do his job and made a not-so-nice comment about his looks, he’d challenged me with an arrogant smirk that had me steaming. We’d stomped down to the gym, removed our weapons, set them by the mat, and went at it. The thing that had surprised me about Hank was that he didn’t take it easy on me, and my impression of him immediately rose.
But when he got me on my belly in a chokehold and threatened to take off his voice-mod and make me get on the police radio and tell everyone on duty how I wouldn’t be able to concentrate because he was so “awesome,” I flipped him over, kicked him off, grabbed my gun, and tagged him in the belly. I knew I’d get an earful for it, but I also knew it wouldn’t kill him.
Hell, we humans had to stand there and go through Hefty and Nitro-gun training, where we had to take low-level shots to our bodies, just like we used to do in the past with Tasers. Off-world officers did the same with bullets and their opposing world’s weapons. All part of the training.
The thing I hadn’t really considered at the time was how the whole thing had affected Hank. He’d acted like it was all a joke and that it didn’t bother him, but when I look back now, I know the other #8217; teasing bothered him just as much as it did me. He was there to do a job just like I was.
When the sound of the shot drew the chief and much of the station, Hank had stood up for me and said it was a training mishap. I still got a three-day suspension without pay. He apologized for the threat he made, and I apologized for shooting him. And I learned very quickly that Hank’s threats and teasing were all in good fun and no small amount of male bluster.
I suppose when one gets off on such a foot, the whole enchanted-by-siren thing kind of takes a backseat.
“Charlie?” Bryn said, bringing me out of my thoughts. She bit her lip and toyed with the hem of her skirt again. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Ask Aaron if he would … you know … drop by. Well, I mean don’t ask. Maybe just suggest.”
Her vulnerability made my eyes burn, but I smiled. “I’m sure he’s planning to already.”
Her look said she didn’t believe that at all, but she leaned forward and hugged me. I squeezed her tightly, breathing in the faint scent of fresh herbs and citrus. “I’ll be back to visit you later.”
We broke apart. I stood and pushed the stool back beneath the table and nodded to the guard to come open the door. Bryn resumed her former position on the cot along with her solemn expression. “Where are you going now, up to your office?”
“I don’t know. Think I might head home and get something to eat. Check on Em, see what kind of trouble Rex has gotten himself into … The usual,” I said with a shrug and a wry smile.
She let her head fall back against the plastic wall and her eyes closed. “Well”—a crooked smile that seemed out of plac
e appeared on her face—“have fun.”
I slipped through the open door, my chest going tight and uncomfortable. Bryn was in another world, it seemed, so I shook the odd feeling away and left the cell quietly.
My boots echoed loud and slow in the stairwell as I climbed one flight to the ground level of Station One. Seeing Bryn sitting in that cell made me tired, weary of this whole thing, and, to be honest, a little hopeless.
Mynogan, Tennin, the Sons of Dawn … their push to start a war and regain control of Charbydon had set in motion a bundle of obstacles that continued to ripple across the city’s inhabitants as well as my professional and private life. If I could end this somehow, stop the insanity, then maybe my life, my family’s life, and the entire city could return to normal.
Instead of going up to the office, I texted Hank to let him know I was headed home for a bite to eat and then I’d be back. With our ash victims secure, and before the fire sylph leapt out from around the next corner, I wanted just a moment of quiet time in my own environment to think and regroup and feed my crazy metabolism.
12
After I hung up my jacket and secured my weapons in the closet, leaving my sidearm on, since it didn’t bother me as much as the shoulder harness, I went into the kitchen and grabbed Rex’s leftover soup from the fridge and a clean bowl from the dishwasher.
As I filled my bowl, I heard the low voices of my child and Rex coming from the backyard. From the window above the sink I could see that the floodlights were on, but not where they stood.
I placed the bowl in the microwave, hit the timer, and then stepped out back to say hello. As soon as I crossed the brick patio, Emma jogged over, her face lighting with excitement. “Oh my God, Mom! You have to see this!”
She grabbed my hand and tugged me into the grass. “Slow down,” I said as she dragged me, chattering so fast I couldn’t understand a word she said, my main focus on trying not to trip.
Then she stopped in the middle of the yard. I looked up.
Oh.
Her hand slipped out of mine as goose bumps sprouted all over my legs and arms. For a moment I couldn’t wrap my head around what I was seeing. I gaped, knowing in the lucid part of my brain that surely I was facing something most people, off-worlders included, had never or would never see in their lifetimes.
Warhound.
The floodlights beamed off polished armor plating. Red eyes glowed through holes of the skull plate, which had spikes running down the center. Brimstone stood in a wash of bright white light. In full battle gear. Looking like he’d just stepped out of the ancient past.
A loud whoosh of air finally breezed through my open mouth. I gulped and recovered enough to say, “Wow.”
“Gives you goose bumps, doesn’t it?” Rex came up behind us.
“Uh-huh.” I couldn’t take my eyes off Brim. He stood there strong and tall, balanced and ready, like a warhorse waiting for the command to surge into battle. “This is really how they used to look?”
“From what I can remember.” Rex’s voice held a quiet kind of reverence. “Hellhounds accompanied the jinn in every battle. The armor is really light, made of typanum and something else—can’t remember … Once the nobles came and started taking over, they killed entire bloodlines, ancient ones. And after we lost the Great War, the jinn weren’t allowed to train hell-hounds for battle or protection; weren’t allowed to have them at all. The jinn set them free. The young ones and the pups stayed away, but the trained ones kept coming back. The nobles slaughtered so many …”
There was a time when I feared hellhounds, when I believed they were mindless, vicious beasts intent on killing anything in their path. I stood there ashamed of myself for being so narrow-minded. As an officer I’d been taught to either kill them on sight, depending on the danger, or leave them to Animal Control. Same as if a lion or bear got loose from the local zoo. I’d believed the hype and the fear, until Brimstone came into our lives. “Where did you find all this stuff?” I asked.
“eBay.”
“It’s my Christmas present from Rex,” Emma said, removing herself from my side to go stand next to Rex, putting him beteen us.
“Had to wait for the final piece,” he explained. “So that’s why she’s getting it late. It’s just a replica, of course—nothing from that age would’ve survived this long—from one of those stores that make reproduction weapons and armor.”
That age being thousands of years in the Charbydon past.
Emma nudged Rex; he nudged her back. They erupted into a jabbing session and an under-the-breath argument, which consisted of: “You ask her.” “No, you ask her.”
“Fine, you little tyrant,” Rex huffed and then turned to me. “I hereby ask permission, O Great and Powerful Mother, to teach this child hellhound battle tactics. There. I asked.”
Emma leaned over with an encouraging nod. “Every Warhound had a trainer. They worked together in pairs on the field. They knew all kinds of stuff, all kinds of commands, and ways to—” Kill. Rex elbowed her. “To fight. So, what do you think? Is it okay?”
The beast stood there looking so damn … badass. It spoke to all my protection instincts, to my love of the good fight, and all things noble and strong. My kid walking around with this at her side—no one would mess with her.
Well, that was if we could get a special permit from the city to permanently keep him. As it was, we were on borrowed time. My neighbor had reported an illegal hellhound living in our backyard. But thanks to the chief and some strings, we were able to get permission to keep him under an ITF Weapons Research Permit. Meaning we lied and said we were researching ways to utilize the hellhound for law enforcement purposes.
But standing here now—how cool would it be to patrol Underground with an armored tank with fangs and claws? With a daughter who could direct entire packs of them with a thought? The first true War-hound in thousands of years …
Okay, getting way ahead of yourself, Charlie.
“Mom.” I looked over at Emma. She was leaning past Rex, clasping her hands together in prayer, smiling at me, and mouthing, “Please, please, please.”
“There will need to be some ground rules … But I guess”—Emma’s monstrous, high-pitched squeal made me cringe—“it would be okay.”
“C’mon, kid, let’s get the armor off him.”
“Right.” Emma ran to Brim and began unlacing the armor plates. She looked so tiny and exposed next to him—a giant Warhound looming above a kneeling eleven-year-old with a ponytail, jeans, and a faded Mickey Mouse T-shirt.
And there were days when you didn’t think it could get any more bizarre.
“Hey,” I said to Rex before he could take off after her. “Can we talk a minute?”
After giving Em some instructions, Rex followed me into the kitchen, where I removed my soup, which had gone lukewarm, from the microwave, set it on the table, and then opened the fridge. I grabbed two beers and handed one to Rex. It was ice-cold, and stung my throat, and I welcomed it with several er gulps. My eyes watered from the sting. “I so needed that.”
He toasted the air with his bottle. “Not every day you see a Warhound.” Then he took a long swig.
“So basics for now, okay? Protection only.” Rex agreed with a nod. I took another gulp before setting the bottle on the counter, leaning back against it to cross one ankle over the other and my arms over my chest. “You were really in the Great War … It’s hard to imagine.”
“Not hard if you saw my original form. A bit taller than Tennin. Leaner. Meaner. To be honest, Charlie, I still can’t believe it, either. I spent thousands of years roaming as a disembodied spirit, losing my memories, forgetting how I came to be a Revenant … And I lived so long ago that now when I do remember, it doesn’t matter because there is no one left.”
“I’m sorry, Rex.” That had to be difficult, to finally remember and realize everyone you knew, everyone you ever loved, was long gone. Tennin’s words came back to taunt me. “Do you want to be a jinn again?”
Rex weighed his answer, appearing conflicted either way. He took another drink. “Sometimes, I guess. Other times, no. I remember who I was, but I’ve also changed. I like who I am now. Not sure my personality would fit well in a jinn body.” He shrugged, still looking undecided. “I don’t know …”
He did have a point. I couldn’t imagine a hulking jinn standing in my kitchen wearing a cherry-print apron and stirring a pot of soup. “Have you had any luck remembering that day?” I asked, changing the subject. “That day” was when Rex’s jinn body had died. The day he’d been exposed to the biological warfare the nobles had concocted to win the Great War.
“Bits and pieces. It’s coming back slowly. I remember the sensation of leaving my body and watching it die on the battlefield. Of watching so many others drop like stones and the nobles celebrating their victory. I wanted to kill them, tried to get back into my body, but it was already too late. There was nothing I could do.”
The solemn tone in Rex’s voice struck a deep nerve in me. I’d never thought I’d have compassion for a jinn, and here I was sympathizing with an ancient warrior who’d fought in the legendary war against the nobles for control of Charbydon.
The war was ancient history to the nobles and the jinn, but it had created the Revenants and Wraiths, those lost jinn spirits able to roam all three planes, casualties of war, slowly losing their identities until they had no idea who or what they once were, only that they craved a body to live in once again. And eventually they’d found a way to have what they wanted. One by force. The other by contract.
“So the nobles put this formula into vials, right?” I asked, remembering an earlier conversation I’d had with Rex over Christmas.
“Yeah, they threw them like grenades.”
“So no peculiar smells or tastes when the vials exploded in battle?”
“No. Just a cloud of white and the honeysuckle smell.”