by Kelly Gay
The same as ash. The formula the nobles used to Wa war had been derived from the rare, bioluminescent flower Sangurne N’ashu, a Bleeding Soul. They’d found a way to use it to rip the spirit from a jinn body. There was no way the jinn could fight that. After the war, as the years passed, the Bleeding Soul became legend, just a myth. But it was very real. Mynogan and Tennin had rediscovered it, cultivated it, and used its properties to create a new formula that wouldn’t rip a spirit out, but could subdue a human’s will, leaving them vulnerable and open to even the weakest of spirits. Ash.
Emma and Brim came inside. The hellhound was out of his armor, and the tap of his claws on the hardwoods was starting to become a welcome sound. “What are we talking about?” Em said, grabbing a yogurt from the fridge.
“The Bleeding Soul,” Rex said. “How to get me out of your dad. The usual.”
I rolled my eyes as Em pulled a clean spoon from the dishwasher. “Maybe all we need is straight Bleeding Soul,” she said, pulling out a chair to sit. “If there’s only a little bit of the flower in the ash for humans, then maybe the nobles needed all of it for the jinn. You know, like, full concentrate to yank a jinn spirit from his body.”
“She gets the smarts from me,” Rex said.
I gave him a twisted smile that told him exactly where she’d gotten her intelligence. Emma’s words could, in fact, be right on the money; it was a thought both Rex and I had discussed in the last week.
Titus had identified the properties in ash in order to make a synthetic replica for the victims to take in small, regulated doses. Without it they would die from withdrawal. But during this process, he’d discovered that just a small amount of the Bleeding Soul was actually in the drug. So it might stand to reason that a larger dose of the flower might do more than make a spirit docile—it might very well make it separate from the body entirely.
In order to get Rex’s jinn spirit out of Will’s body and restore my ex-husband to his former self, using the flower seemed like the only viable option.
“I need to get into Charbydon,” Rex said.
With a mouth full of yogurt, Em said, “That’s crazy.”
“Not really. Think about it. The nobles must have that formula somewhere. It’s not going to be here; it’ll be somewhere in the City of Two Houses. You know, in their library, the arsenal, their hidden stash, whatever you call it. Heck, it’s probably in with their crown jewels.”
Emma’s eyes grew round. “The nobles have crown jewels?”
“A double set, since they have two rulers.”
She pointed her spoon at Rex. “It’s called an oligarchy. Means a country ruled by two kings or queens. One is from the House of Abaddon and one is from the House of Astarot. They each contributed a ruler.”
“Very good,” Rex said, pleased. “And when disputes arise between the rulers, how are they settled?”
“Council of Elders, made up of old royal dudes from both houses.”
My eyebrow lifted. “I hope you didn’t answer like that on your last test.”
Emma smirked playfully. Off-world Studies was obviously one of her better subjects in school, and Rex had taken it upon himself before Christmas break to help her with midterm exams. I’d been relegated to mere math and science.
“Have you been to the City of Two Houses? It’s supposed to be thousands of years old,” Emma asked.
“Not inside, but I’ve been to the gates. The nobles built their city above Telmath during their siege of the city.”
“So all their valuables are there.”
“The formula being one of the most valuable. It’s the only reason they’ve ruled for so long without contention from the jinn again. The jinn know they have this formula; they know the nobles can use it again and wipe the jinn out for good.”
“So fat chance of us getting it, then,” she said, glumly.
Emma spent a lot of time thinking about her father being trapped inside of his own body, of a Revenant being in control. She was determined to save him and find a way to make everything right. She had the unrelenting optimism of a child, and it worried me because I knew better than anyone that things didn’t always turn out the way we hoped.
“Well,” I said. “It’s not like we know for sure that the formula would work anyway. We’d have to be sure it would only pull Rex out and not Dad.”
“I don’t think it would pull Will,” Rex said. “I’m the dominant one, and it was designed to work on the jinn. Theoretically, it should yank me right out.”
No one spoke after that. I tossed my bottle into the recycling bin and reheated the soup again. Sure, we all loved Will. We all wanted him back. He’d made a terrible mistake by contracting with a Revenant to begin with.
Getting around the issue of reversing this possession was going to be tough. Once a Revenant was in, he couldn’t get out unless the host body died. If Rex wanted out, he could commit suicide or stop healing and regenerating his host body and let it die naturally. Only then was his spirit able to leave. And, of course, losing Will was not an option. The only reason my daughter had not had a major break was because her dad was still here where she could see him. If we lost Will, she’d be devastated.
But losing Rex was not something she wanted, either.
Emma wanted to fix things. She wanted her father back, and she wanted Rex to stay in her life. She might not have said that last part out loud, but she didn’t need to.
The microwave beeped. I returned to the table with my soup.
“Before I forget,” Rex said. “Em and I were invited to help decorate the League for the New Year’s Eve party and help with last-minute stuff. We can go the day of and just change there for the party.”
“Yeah, Bryn told me. I told her it was fine with me.”
“Have you gotten your dress yet?” Emma asked, knowing I hadn’t.
“I will. Don’t worry …”
“Mom. The party is in two days.”
Rex pushed away from the table, grabbing Em’s yogurt and tossing it into the trash.
“Hey!”
“Bah on the good-for-you crap. Let’s go get milk shakes.”
And this would be just one of the many reasons why Emma loved Rex.
After eating my soup, I drove us to Blue Barry’s Ice Cream Shop.
I was just walking back to the truck with our order when my cell rang from inside the vehicle. I saw Rex through the windshield pick it up and answer. By the time I got to the window, he was staring at me, his face pale.
I set the milk shakes on the hood. “What? What happened?”
He handed me my cell. “That was Hank. Bryn’s gone.”
“What do you mean, Bryn’s gone?”
“Gone. Like escaped. Broke out. Got the hell out of—”
My hand flew up. “I understand what gone means, Rex.” I jumped in the car and sped out of the parking lot, the milk shakes flying off the roof and landing somewhere in the lot.
My hands trembled on the wheel. There was no doubt in my mind now. If Bryn had been in control, she would have stayed. My eyes stung, and I prayed all the way to the station.
I told Emma to wait in the car with Brim, and I raced inside and down to the holding cell area.
13
Rex followed me down to the cell block. Every single ash victim was where they were supposed to be except one. Bryn’s cell was empty, her door open. The guard stood by the door, another in her room searching through the bag of clothes and books Bryn had brought with her.
“What the hell happened?” I barked.
One of the guys shook his head as the other came out of the room. “Look, we were doing our job—”
“Don’t feed me that bullshit. If you’d been doing your job, she’d still be here!”
“Calm down, Madigan,” the chief ordered from behind me.
I spun on my heel. The chief and Hank marched down the hall. I wanted to hit something. Scream. Casey and Mike were dead. Amanda had tried to commit suicide, and Bryn was gone. Christ,
she could on the roof right now, stepping off … Oh God.
My eyes caught Kyle’s as he sat on the cot, watching us. Silent wasn’t his style. I ran to his door. “How did she get out?”
Power stirred in my gut, so hot and angry that my limbs tingled.
He shrugged, not bothering to hide the smug light in his eyes. “Said sm" ords. Door popped open. You know how mages are.” He made a motion with his hands and said, smiling, “Poof. Gone.”
My blood pressure rose, and I had to force myself not to pound the plastic. “Did she say anything?”
A female voice piped up, two cells down. “Yeah. She said, see you in hell.” Her chuckle grated on my composure.
Kyle shot to his feet. “Shut up, Grace.”
“Fuck you, Kyle,” Grace responded. “I’m not one of her flunkies like you. I’m not going to leap off some building because she fucking tells me to.”
Fear-fueled adrenaline shot through my limbs. I walked closer on numb legs. “Wait a second. She told Mike and Casey to jump? Bryn? Bryn told them?”
Grace gave a nonchalant shrug. Her hands were flat against the plastic. She looked the same as every other time I’d seen her, always in and out of the station on drug and prostitution charges—thin, strung-out, and pale. But now her dull eyes burned. “We’ve got a second chance at life, and all he wants to do is kill us off and go have his revenge.”
“‘He’? Who are you talking about? Who is inside of my sister?”
“Let me out and I’ll tell you.”
Ah. So this was the game. Whoever was inside of Grace wanted freedom, wanted to take her body, steal her life, and live it for her. Fat chance.
I shook my head. “Can’t do that.”
“I’m not one of them,” came another voice opposite Grace’s cell. I spun around. A young woman stood at the plastic. I couldn’t place her. “I’ll tell you. I sit and I listen to them; they don’t think I can hear but I do.” A small part of me acknowledged how odd her calmness seemed, but in that moment all that mattered was finding my sister. I approached, my heart pounding hard, mouth dry in fear. I stood in front of her cell and waited.
“Your sister is going to Charbydon, to Telmath, to kill the Abaddon Father.”
The others shot to their feet and yelled at once, a cacophony of curses and threats erupting throughout the holding area, but they all sounded far away as I reached for the wall to steady myself, the hallway turning like a fun house ride.
My mark oozed warmth as Hank placed his hand on my shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly, “we can get to her, Charlie. We can stop her before she goes through the gate.”
“I’m calling the gate officials now,” the chief said from behind us.
Deep breath. Okay. Focus. “Who’s controlling her?” I asked the woman.
“I don’t know. They never use names other than the host body’s.”
“Why the Abaddon Father?”
“Revenge. Your sister said the Father would pay. Said the winter solstice plan was a failure, and the Sons of Dawn were finished, and this would be the final act. You know, like Plan B basically. Can’t strt a war, then go straight to revenge. She said she was going to kill the one who killed Malek Murr, her father. Or his. Who knows who’s inside of her …”
Malek Murr. My thoughts churned. Malek Murr. He’d been the jinn High Chief who’d come to our world during biblical times to escape the oppressive rule of the nobles. His tribe and a few others had left Charbydon to make a new home in our world. And while Malek had several sons, there was only one that mattered here.
The answer struck me like a thunderbolt, slammed into my chest, and stole my breath. I stepped back. Blood drained from my face as all the pieces slid neatly into place.
“Solomon.”
The others started screaming about revenge, about justice, but it all melted into the background. The biblical King Solomon. The Father of Crafting. The son of Malek Murr and the human woman Bath-sheba. A hybrid, like Sian. He had started the Sons of Dawn cult, had learned about the First Ones and that the nobles once ruled in Elysia. His cult had planned to gather the proof they needed to share with the nobles—and once the nobles found out where they truly belonged, they’d start a war with Elysia to take back what was once theirs, and leave Charbydon to the jinn.
And that’s all the jinn and Solomon ever wanted: to regain their world.
But Solomon’s father and the other jinn tribes had been called back to Charbydon, the nobles afraid that Malek Murr was planning to raise an army on Earth.
“Who was king?” I asked, looking around at the faces staring back at me. “Who was the Abaddon king when Malek Murr and the tribes were called back to Charbydon?”
No one answered. They didn’t have to. The Abaddon Father had to have been one of the kings back then. He’d given the order to bring back Malek Murr and have him executed. No wonder Solomon had created the spirit jars. No wonder he had devised a way to continue on after his death so that one day his cult could exact revenge and do what his father could not, free the jinn from noble rule—and, for Solomon personally, exact revenge for the man who had murdered his father.
Llyran and the Sons of Dawn had stood atop Helios Tower and claimed that I’d be host to Solomon’s spirit, that with Solomon’s knowledge and my power, they’d raise the First One. But it had never been Solomon in the spirit jar next to Llyran.
Solomon had gone quietly into my ash-addicted sister to run the show from the background.
No wonder we hadn’t been able to detect another presence in her. She had the Father of Crafting inside of her—and with his knowledge, he could do just about anything.
And his last act was going to be killing the Abaddon Father.
Christ. It was like saying someone was after the Queen Mother in England. And no one would care that Bryn was possessed. This was a suicide mission after all.
“Bryn has a passport,” I said numbly, “so she won’t have a problem going through the gate, but I know she doesn’t keep it in her purse. She’ll have to go back to the League or her apartment to get it.”
Then again, Solomon might have ty aility to cross planes without using legal means of transportation …
“We need a team to go to her apartment,” I said to the chief. “See who’s in Underground right now and have them go over. I’m going to the League.” I turned to Rex. “Can you take Emma back home?”
“Sure.”
I tossed him the keys and he took off.
“The gate is on alert,” the chief said. “No one, no matter who they are, will pass until we give them the green light.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
I didn’t know where Bryn was headed, to be honest. Didn’t know if I should go to the gate and assume she’d try to go through or if she’d head back to the League for her ID. Hell, she could already be in Char-bydon by now.
“Charlie,” Hank said. “What do you want to do?”
I bit my lip hard. I had to be faster, had to cut her off. “Never mind about the League. We’re going to Charbydon.”
“What?” he and the chief echoed.
I turned to them. “Running around here, trying to find her is waste of time. It could put her farther and farther away from us. I guarantee you Solomon knows a way to get into Charbydon without using the gate. If we go now, we can head her off, be there before she gets there. Let her walk right into us.”
“Sounds good,” Hank said at length. “Let’s load up and get to the terminal.”
We raced to the weapons depot for additional ammo and weapons. Hank grabbed a thigh harness and strapped it to his leg. The familiar clicks and sounds of weapons checks and loading up filled the room.
“Solomon has had all this time inside of Bryn,” Hank said, slipping a spare Nitro-gun into the holster at his thigh. “Why wait until now?”
“Maybe he was still hoping for war and waiting to see if Bryn could find out what we did with Ahkneri.” I stilled, my eyes going wide. “I told Bryn about the
sylphs. I told her I found a way to see inside of her and help her.“
Hank straightened. “And he realized it was now or never. If he wanted revenge, he’d have to do it now before you saw the truth.”
“Right,” I said, grabbing two thigh harnesses for the two extra Nitro-guns I was taking. “Otherwise, he had time to wait, to see how things unfolded. I bet you Tennin convinced him to wait it out after they lost Ahkneri. And Solomon had other ideas. He started issuing the suicide orders, Tennin went ballistic …”
I walked to the wall, grabbed a black cloak, and tossed it to him. “If we’re going into Charbydon, you’ll need this. The less attention we attract, the better.”
“How the hell do we find her once we get there?” Hank asked, tossing me some extra nitro clips. “Aaron has been to Charbydon …”
“No. He’s too involved personally. And he hasn’t recovered from dying.”I flipped open my cell and dialed. “Rex. Change of plans. You ready to take a trip back home?”
As Hank and I hurried from the depot, I spoke to Emma after Rex, and told her to pack a bag and her party dress because she’d be staying at the League until we got back. For once, my kid didn’t argue with me. Actually, if she had a choice, she’d have chosen the League herself. She loved it there. Her only words were, “Find Aunt Bryn and bring her back.” And to be careful, and that she loved me.
I called the League next and spoke to Aaron. There were only a handful of people I’d entrust with my child and he was one of them. I told him as little as possible about Bryn and asked him to put Emma under his protection. I had no doubts he’d agree.
Then we were in Hank’s car speeding toward Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport.
I was about to see hell for the first time.
14
It took ten minutes to get to the terminal near Harts-field-Jackson. Ever since the darkness, the airport had become dead space. No planes in or out due to fears of the darkness clogging engines and causing a crash. It had been a logistical nightmare of epic proportions, one of the worst casualties of the darkness—billions in revenue gone, planes rerouted, terminals around the country—the South especially—taking the overload of redirected travel; even smaller airports were being used. People lost their jobs, their livelihoods—though, thankfully with the help of the government, union, and airlines, many were able to temporarily relocate to other terminals.