The Better Part of Darkness

by Kelly Gay

  “This kind of police brutality cannot be tolerated. We have rights. We are legal citizens. This incident was nothing but discrimination. Detective Madigan killed three members of our society. She beat two of them to death. The CPP is demanding she be held in custody until an internal investigation is complete.”

  I slinked back into the shadows, wanting nothing more than to wring Otorius’s neck. This reeked of political agenda. The nobles saw an opportunity and they’d jumped. Damned if I’d be a scapegoat, and I certainly hadn’t done anything wrong.

  As I went to head back to the car, a strong hand gripped my arm and pulled me into the shadows of a live oak. “Goddammit, Madigan, have you lost your fucking mind coming here?”

  A sigh of relief tore through me. I released my hand from the gun under my jacket, and swallowed down my shock. “Chief.”

  “If they see you here, it’s going to be a bloodbath for one.”

  My eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was dressed in street clothes and a black leather jacket, his hands shoved into the pockets, looking for all the world like a retired heavyweight world champ you would not want to mess with. One who was presently glaring at me with a full-blown frown set in his wide face. I knew him well enough, though, to know the glare really meant worry.

  He pulled me farther under the canopy of oak limbs and Spanish moss, his dark eyes darting to the crowd and then back to me. “I’m getting pressure to bring you in, Charlie. The head of the CPP has been calling my cell for the last two hours.”

  “I don’t understand. How—”

  “Someone had a video phone in Underground. Your little smackdown with the jinn is all over the news.”

  I leaned forward, trying to keep my voice down. “They attacked me. One of them killed Auggie.”

  “I know, but the footage. It’s brutal, Charlie. It’s all over the Internet, too. And it doesn’t show them attacking you.”

  My cheeks went hot. Indignation swelled my chest. “No. Of course it doesn’t. They’re setting me up.”

  “Listen,” he said, pausing as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the display. “I can buy you a couple of days; try to find some witnesses who can prove the jinn attacked first. But you gotta lay low until this thing is resolved. The CPP will drag this out until the very end.”

  “Yeah, and in the meantime they’re going to paint their entire race as victims of prejudice and abuse.”

  “This is all just politics. Give it a few days and they’ll find something else to keep them in the spotlight.”

  My fists clenched hard. That this was happening to me … Me! I shook my head, staring across the baseball field. I wasn’t a bad officer. I’d never taken a bribe, looked the other way, or committed unwarranted abuse against any criminal or suspect in my custody.

  “Watch your back, Charlie. Grigori Tennin will issue a summons. Two of the jinn you killed were local tribesmen.”

  “I know. So much for their whole law-abiding citizen routine.”

  “Yeah, and if you can’t pay their death price, poof. No body. No evidence. No crime. That’s how they work, and the last thing I want is to find out you’ve gone missing ’cause we both know you don’t have the cash or the clout to pay off a blood debt like this.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  If a tribe member was injured or killed and the offender couldn’t reimburse the tribe with what Grigori Tennin decided was a fair trade or price, a blood debt was issued. So far, the ITF had been unable to find any evidence of foul play other than word on the street and missing persons reports. We did the best we could, but it was impossible to pin a crime on anyone when there was no evidence, despite the fact that we all knew the jinn still kept to their warlike ways, and each tribe was territorial and unforgiving.

  Atlanta’s jinn population answered to Grigori Tennin, and it had been that way since the tribe was established here. Most big cities had several tribes, but Atlanta had one. One that was absolute. No jinn made Atlanta home without Tennin’s approval.

  Like I didn’t have enough to deal with already. Now I had to worry about being pulled off the street in order to answer to Grigori, not to mention retribution from the rogues, vigilantes, and sympathizers out there, no doubt whipped into a frenzy after all the media attention.

  The chief’s big hand squeezed my shoulder. “I know,” he said quietly. “Like I said, lay low. Stay away from the house and let me handle the CPP. You did nothing wrong, Charlie. I know that. The department knows that.” He grabbed my hand and curled my fingers over a set of car keys. “Go to my house and take my nephew’s car. It’s the red one. He’s doing a semester in South Africa right now. You leave your car. I’ll drive it to the station tomorrow. Make sure no one follows you. And for God’s sake, stay away from the hospital and Amanda Mott. And you might as well stay away from Hank, too. Tennin will probably have someone on him.”

  I nodded, squeezing the keys until they bit into my palm. My voice caught. “Thanks, Chief.”

  “Just don’t attract any angry jinn and that’ll be thanks enough.”

  He hunched his wide shoulders and walked down the sidewalk away from my house and away from the direction of my car. I headed the other way, making sure to keep my steps slow and unhurried. My heart pounded. All I could think was that someone had seen me, and was following. I had to get to the car and get to Bryn’s as soon as possible.

  In the chief’s driveway, I slipped inside the sporty red Mustang GT, turned the ignition, leaving the lights off, and backed out into the street, hoping I hadn’t woken his wife, Anne-Marie. I shoved the car in gear and headed for Underground.

  The parking on Alabama Street had thinned out, allowing me to find a spot near the entrance to Underground. The bars and clubs closed at 4A.M. If my luck held, the only people passing by would be inebriated stragglers and tired waitstaff. Too tired or drunk to notice me or care.

  Hopefully, no one would think to look for me here, a few stores up from the scene of the crime. Bad thing was I’d probably be more recognized down here by the off-worlders than in the ’burbs. But I didn’t know where else to go. It was late. I couldn’t think straight and had to find a safe place to rest and regroup.

  And I desperately needed to see Emma. Just to kiss her while she slept, tuck the covers more securely around her, and watch her for a few minutes. She could center me. Just looking at her reminded me of my priorities, my strength, my purpose.

  Underground at this time of night was eerily quiet—a time when your footsteps echoed louder than normal and shadows grew at every turn. I walked at a fast clip across the dimly lit promenade and then down Mercy Street. A few waitresses passed by, but they were in too much of a hurry to get home to notice me. There was a police officer, waiting for the manager to lock the pub across the street and take his money to the bank. Another group headed down my side of the street, but I’d already come to Bryn’s door, next to the shop, and was able to turn my back to them as I pressed the buzzer.

  I had to press four times before she finally answered. She never answered before that because jerks and drunks were known to walk by and randomly press buzzers.

  “Who is it?” she asked in sleepy stereo.

  “It’s Charlie.” I glanced over my shoulder, making sure no one watched. The door buzzed. I turned the knob and pushed.

  Bryn’s entrance was just a stairwell to a second-floor landing and another door, which led into her apartment over the shop. The door opened before I reached the landing. Bryn stood in the doorway, hands shoved into a cotton waffle-weave robe. Sleep had tangled her loose hair and swollen the delicate skin around her eyes, making her look young and vulnerable. Like my kid sister.

  “What’s wrong?” She moved aside to let me in.

  A small lamp in the living room was on. It was quiet here, too. The shades were drawn, but warmth still surrounded this place, like always. I slid off my jacket and began removing my firearms, setting them on the table in the foyer. Bryn moved into the adjoinin
g kitchen and began making a pot of decaf, yawning as she filled the carafe with water.

  I slid onto one of the kitchen counter stools. “How’s Em?”

  “Good. She did her homework with Will and then we went to visit Amanda at the hospital. I hope that was okay. I know you don’t want Em to worry, but I think it made her feel better to go.” I gave a nod of agreement, wishing I could’ve gone too. “We ate dinner, Em took a shower. Everything’s fine. She’s fine.” Bryn hit the brew button and then turned toward me. “You on the other hand … What happened?”

  I let my arms slide over the cool surface of the countertop, wanting nothing more than to lay my head down and drift off to sleep. “The CPP is calling for my arrest after what happened this morning. They’re picketing my house. I can’t go home right now.” I didn’t mention the jinn debt. Bryn knew the score. I let my head fall onto my arm. “I just want this all to be over with.”

  Thankfully, she didn’t mention the debt. Instead she went to the fridge and pulled out some cheddar cheese and jalapenos, and then a bag of tortilla chips from the pantry. Comfort food. She spread the chips on a plate. “Do you think Emma is safe? Should she go to school tomorrow?” She sprinkled a generous portion of cheese onto the chips and then added the sliced jalapenos.

  “Yeah, security is tight at the school. But I’ll have an officer go over in the morning to keep an eye out. You want an escort?”

  She lifted her chin and fixed me with a frank look. “I know it’s hard to fathom, but I can take care of us.” At that, she put the plate into the microwave. Once it was melting the cheese, she turned back to the fridge and got out salsa and sour cream. Her face was stern as she grabbed two small bowls.

  “What about you, Charlie? What about earlier? You killed three jinn and then healed yourself. How long do you think you can keep ignoring what’s going on?” She stood in front of the counter, both hands braced in front of her.

  I raised my head and straightened my spine. I was too tired to deal with this right now. “Bryn—”

  “No, don’t,” she said. “Don’t ‘Bryn’ me, okay? You almost died today. Again. I’m sick of you being like this, Charlie! I’m your sister. And I’m sure as hell not stupid enough to believe whatever excuse you’re about to throw at me. What? You can handle it? You can figure it out … alone?” Her voice rose, but tempered enough not to wake Emma. The microwave beeped, but she ignored it. “Stop being an idiot. Stop acting like you have no one, that no one is good enough or has the ability to help you. Get off your goddamn high horse, for once.”

  The microwave beeped again. I stared wide-eyed, stunned by her outburst.

  High horse?

  My ego wasn’t that big to think no one could help me. Was it? Was that what she really thought? Was that what everyone else thought, too?

  The plate of nachos slid onto the counter with a slight rattle. Bryn’s cheeks were mottled pink as she grabbed one, shoved it into the sour cream and then into her mouth. She even chewed angry. “Have some before they get cold,” she mumbled, leaning into the corner of the counter and taking another one.

  Automatically, I did. The first bite of melted cheese, salty nacho, and hot pepper made me realize that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. My stomach let out an eager growl.

  “Connor had gifted blood, too,” she said, eyes narrowing. “You always denied it, but he did. Just like you deny yours.”

  The mention of our brother closed my throat and brought a sting of tears to my eyes. Bryn handed me a bottled water from the fridge. The cold liquid soothed my throat and helped temper my emotions. “Can we not talk about him?”

  She sighed. “You never want to talk about anything.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Uh, yeah it is. You’ve never talked about him; you do know that, right? You keep it all to yourself.” She blinked back sudden tears. Her lips trembled. “I loved him, too. Don’t you think I deserve to know what he felt, what he said to you the day he died?” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and threw her hands in the air. “You know something, Charlie? You do whatever you want, and you never think about anyone but yourself. It’d be too hard for you to talk, too hard for you to ask for help … Does it ever occur to you that the rest of us feel left out, not a part of your little one-woman club?” She paced in front of the counter, gave one last huff, shot me a glare, and then said, “Forget it. I’m going to bed.”

  What the hell?

  Her door shut softly, and I stared at it for a long time, a chip in my hand, paused in midair. Bryn never went off like that. And more startling were her words—words that hit my very heart and made it face truths I didn’t want it to. I wasn’t selfish. How could she say that? But even as I convinced myself of my innocence, I knew she was right. I’d always told myself that I kept things locked away because it would only hurt her. Better she didn’t know. Better she didn’t get involved in my current state. Better for whom? Who was I to decide that for her?

  God, you’re a dumbass sometimes.

  The last ones in the world I’d ever hurt were my family. But I had. I’d hurt my sister without even realizing it.

  I ate another chip, wondering why I felt like I had to carry all my burdens alone. That question rolled around my mind as I finished the nachos and then cleaned up. We hadn’t touched the coffee. Typical.

  I sat on the couch and removed my shoes, sitting back for a moment to wiggle my toes and let my muscles finally relax. My mind, however, was filled with self-loathing and analyzing. Hell, maybe I deserved to carry my burdens alone. Maybe it was my penance.

  I should have listened to my brother’s voice in my head the day he died.

  He cried out to me, and I didn’t listen.

  Connor and I were more than your average twins. Bryn was right, he had gifted blood, but then so did I when it came to Connor. From our earliest memories, Connor and I could hear each other’s thoughts. As children it was fun. But, as teenagers, we routinely blocked each other out. I mean, who wants to hear lusty teenage boy thoughts or share your secret crush? We’d gotten good at blocking. And I’d gotten good at denying we were special. As a teenager all I wanted was to fit in, not stand out. Especially in a bad way. I’d seen how people had treated my clairvoyant grandmother before the Revelation. Called her a kook, a liar, a weirdo … So when Connor called to me, I’d blocked him out as usual. I didn’t know he was about to die, that he was trying to ask for my help to save him.

  He died because I didn’t listen.

  Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. I swiped them away, feeling the familiar anguish of Connor’s death return. With a heavy heart, I stood and forced the grief back into the far recesses of my mind, telling myself that I’d had enough for one day.

  Emma’s room was dark, save for the street light outside making the blinds glow like a night-light. It hurt even more to see her sleeping there, curled up, the covers tucked underneath her chin, which jutted out straight and proud, her lips squashed together and her cheek bunched against her pillow. I loved her so much. I didn’t want to hurt her or eventually tune her out like I’d done with Bryn.

  I removed my jeans and undid my bra, pulling it out through the sleeve in my shirt, and then slid onto the full-size bed, curling next to her. Instinctively, she snuggled into me, grabbed my arm, and pulled it around her to hold on to it like one of her stuffed animals she slept with at home. My body relaxed. The smell of her hair lingered on the pillows and sheets and low in the air above the bed, and the scent of her skin was still reminiscent of the powdery baby smell of newborns.

  My eyelids drifted closed. My breathing slowed. Just a little bit of sleep. Until morning.

  CHAPTER 8

  Bryn talking softly and nudging Emma from sleep woke me before it woke my daughter; she was like her father in that way. Both could sleep like the dead. I didn’t move at first, just opened my eyes to see my sister’s apologetic grimace. Apparently she’d been trying to let me sleep.

  Em snuggled deeper
into the mattress and closer into the curve of my body. Then she stilled, realizing I was there. “Mom?”

  Her groggy voice pulled a soft smile from my lips, and I propped up on my elbow to kiss her cheek. “Morning, doodlebug.”

  “Not … going … to school … today.” Deep groans of protest went through her as she flipped onto her stomach and buried her face into the pillow. “What are you doing here?”

  I rolled onto my back and lifted my hands above my head to stretch. “Yes, you are going to school. And I had to sleep here last night because a water pipe burst in the house.”

  Bryn met my gaze and I shrugged. It was the best I could come up with.

  Emma’s head immediately lifted. I could barely see her profile through the massive poof of her tangled, wavy hair. “What about Spooky?”

  “I’m sure she’s fine.” Damn. I’d totally forgotten about the cat. Great. If Spooky had gotten out, or worse, gotten hurt by the broken glass or the brick flying through the window, I’d have a devastated kid on my hands.

  “C’mon, kiddo, you need to get dressed,” Bryn said. “Breakfast is almost ready. I’ll go and get Spooky after I drop you off at school.”

  Saved by my sister. I sat up as Emma shuffled off to use the bathroom and spoke before I could analyze myself out of it. “Bryn …” She stopped at the door and turned. “What you said last night…. You were right.”

  She frowned for a second as though she hadn’t expected that and then gave me a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I stared at the closed door, knowing she wasn’t about to give in until I confessed everything. She’d had enough. And I couldn’t blame her. Made me feel like shit, but I did understand.

  In the adjoining bathroom, I brushed my teeth with the spare Bryn kept for me, and then turned on the shower as Emma wiped her face on a hand towel. When I straightened, she was standing by the shower staring thoughtfully at me, her face and lips still puffy from sleep. Her wild hair made her shoulders seem smaller and her bare legs look skinner than they already were. She resembled a little cavewoman standing there, arms hanging limp and tired at her sides. My kid was not a morning person.