by Kelly Gay
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—”
“Biol
uminescent,” 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.”
CHAPTER 11
“Come on, you guys!” Emma called from the landing.
“We’ll finish this inside,” I told Bryn. “I want to know more about this legend.”
As we climbed the stairs, I looked up at my waiting family and was immediately struck by flashes of old memories, the times when we’d all come over to Bryn’s for dinner. And sometimes she’d come to our house, so Will could cook on the grill. I loved helping him, loved being outside, eating good food, drinking an ice-cold beer, playing in the yard with Em … just being happy.
An ache spread across my chest as I trailed Bryn up the stairs.
At the landing, Will turned to Emma. “Go inside with Aunt Bryn. I want to talk to Mom for a minute.”
“Okay,” she responded with a careless shrug, toting Spooky, and followed Bryn inside.
With Will and me on the landing, the small space quickly became claustrophobic. All six foot three rugged inches of him sucked the air out of the space around us. His scent wrapped around me—this morning’s cologne mixed with the smell of his skin.
He scrubbed a calloused hand over his stubbly jaw, sighing heavily. Wary, I leaned against the wall. He caught my gaze and held it with his. My stomach flipped. So much history with him. All the goofy names we’d said, the plans for our future, the way we so innocently believed nothing would ever come between a love so strong.