by Kelly Gay
Whether using my power weakened me or not, I didn’t care. I was determined to keep Em from witnessing what was about to follow.
I faced Mynogan. Emma was not going back into that pavilion. “Once this is done, she goes with Titus. They walk out of here alone and unharmed.”
“Agreed.”
I kissed the top of her head, letting my lips linger as I carried her over to Titus. Gently, he took her in his arms, but his gaze was fixed on me. “Charlie. You can’t do this,” he whispered, glancing at Emma. “I understand, but the city …”
“Just … don’t say it. I know what I’m doing. And if you don’t keep her safe, I’ll be coming after you next.”
Two jinn fell in behind Titus as he sat in the grass with my daughter. My only option was to continue with the ceremony and hope to hell Carreg would come through if I couldn’t find a way to thwart Mynogan’s plan and get to my kid.
My legs felt wooden as I proceeded voluntarily toward the center of the circle. From the corner of my eye, I saw Carreg edge back into the shadows of the pavilion. Weariness swamped me. I was so tired. And I really didn’t think I could handle any more emotion.
That’s good, I convinced myself, just center yourself and focus. Bryn’s crystal charm warmed my chest and gave me the calming comfort of her presence. When she’d given it to me after my death experience, I’d never really asked about its properties. And the only thing she’d told me was that it would help protect me. Fat chance of that now. But if it eased some anxiety, that was good enough for me.
The soft ground dipped beneath my feet, the cool dewiness against my bare skin sending chills up my arms and releasing the scent of tangy grass into the clean air. It’s too beautiful a night for blood and death.
The six figures, Abaddons no doubt, surrounded us, widely spaced around the large circle of grass. My blood pressure rose. How did one kill an Abaddon noble? I drew in a resigned breath. I guessed I was about to find out. Strategies darted through my mind, elusive and insubstantial as I came to a halt in front of Mynogan. I’d become brain-dead. Great.
A victorious gleam came into Mynogan’s eyes as he pulled a dagger from his coat and held it to the moon. It was iron. Black. And so sharp the moonlight glinted off the blade. There was no decoration of any kind on the weapon, giving it an even more sinister appearance.
If there was ever a death blade, this was it.
He chanted in Charbydon, which sounded similar to ancient Hebrew or Aramaic. His confident, rhythmic words stirred power into the night air. Energy gathered and coalesced within the circle. Every hair on my body lifted. Even the ends of my hair curled up as though acknowledging a change in the atmosphere around us. I thought I heard the faint echo of drumbeats, the sound vibrating through me like a second pulse. But there were no drums here.
I swayed as memories darted just out of reach, evading me like teasing fireflies. Not my own, but familiar. Primeval. Basic. Like the drums. On an elemental level, I recognized the power growing within the circle. It was earth. It was matter. Water. Life. Creation. My eyelids grew heavy, my thoughts hazy. Somehow I knew I was connected to this in a way no one else could claim. I was part of three worlds. The individual energy that ran through them all, and made up them all, ran through me.
The cold, rough iron hilt of the dagger pressed into my palm. I glanced down, seeing my hand, a pale contrast to the coal-black dagger. Shivers snaked through me, and it took all my effort just to stay lucid and focused, the chanting having some kind of hypnotic effect.
With a slow glance over my shoulder to Emma, sleeping in Titus’s arms, his face stricken and white as a ghost, and Carreg edging ever closer to them, I drew in my courage, squeezed the blade tightly, and held out my left arm. This was going to hurt like hell.
My pulse beat hard and fast like the drums inside of my head. Tensing, I pressed the blade into my flesh until vivid red blood blossomed over the pale skin. Then, I drew a burning, stinging line from the middle of my forearm down to my wrist, cleanly slicing the artery. I’d seen enough successful suicides to know how to do it right.
Mynogan’s breath hissed from his thin lips, his eyes drawn to the gush of red spreading out in a warm thick line against my skin. I swayed again, but kept my arm out where he could see it, his reaction stirring something in me and triggering a sudden hunger. To kill. To take.
My grip flexed on the dagger. My blood pounded in my ears, blending with an ancient memory of frenzied, writhing bodies dancing around fire as the chanting grew louder. The power in the circle fed me, making these images in my mind, images as old as time. My vision warbled and tilted. I tried to swallow, but my throat and mouth had gone hot and dry.
I blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Then, Mynogan’s fuzzy form came snapping back into view. He remained transfixed and distracted by the blood. And I knew then. I knew what I had to do. It all made perfect sense.
Gathering my waning strength and knowing I had to be fast, I pulled back my right hand and plunged the dagger into Mynogan’s neck.
Startled, he stumbled back.
I was on him like some crazed lunatic in her hospital gown before he could draw on his power, arms and legs wrapping around him and sending him to the ground. Instinct took over. Thighs clamped firmly around his torso, I held his head down with my hand on his forehead and locked my mouth over the wound, pushing the horror of what I was doing from my mind.
The first taste of blood on my tongue threw me into another time and place. The time of Charbydon curses and rituals. The warm, sticky liquid slid down my parched throat, easing the hunger. I bled my blood into the aromatic grass and replaced it with pure evil.
The House of Abaddon had been cursed by blood. Blood to sustain them. And without blood, it would kill them.
Mynogan cursed loudly and struggled beneath me, trying to draw upon his power, but the source of it was his blood, the raw essence of life. And I was taking it for my own. His hand beat frantically at my back, but I ignored it. His power tried to shove me off, but I ignored that, too, taking it from him in long, thirsty gulps. His panic was raw and fierce, but he was weakening under the loss of blood.
No blood. No life. No Mynogan.
Desperate screams tore from his throat. Like a worm, he writhed in my grasp, his movements violent and fast. His voice broke. His nails dug into my back, carving deep, bloody ditches. I felt the skin open, but didn’t feel the sting.
I kept him pinned, sensing that all around me the circle of dark figures was frozen, taken aback by what they were witnessing. The power swirling within the circle threatened anyone stupid enough to enter.
Carreg, I forced out of my chaotic mind, get them away from here now.
He didn’t answer, but I sensed an agreement muted by shock.
Time slowed.
It felt like ages had passed, but, little by little, Mynogan’s body went limp. I relaxed my thighs and hands. The scent of blood hung heavy and sweet in the sticky air. My lips were numb, and my throat and cheek muscles sore from drawing and drinking.
I sucked hard at the last drop of blood from his being and, feeling full and disgustingly sick, I rolled off the body onto my back, my gaze connecting with moonlight and stars. My breath came heavy and fast. The blood that flowed from my arm slowed to a trickle.
My eyelids drooped, my heartbeat slowed.
The ground beneath me shuddered, rousing my waning attention. The moonlight and stars slowly disappeared as a cloudy haze filled the sky. Darkness shot up through the earth like smoke through a screen, swirling in the circle, the force of its wind making my hospital gown wave across my knees and stomach.
A deranged chuckle bubbled from my throat.
There was no way Mynogan’s blood could sustain me. I was human, not Charbydon, and I was dying here in a circle of smut. Smut that grew and burgeoned and would soon cover the city.
Way to go, Madigan. Way to fucking go.
My laughter mixed with hot tears. I should have taken a desk job. I rolled to m
y stomach and crawled from the circle on my elbows and the insides of my knees, trying not to focus on my left arm flayed open like a butterfly shrimp.
Damned if I’d die in this crap.
Using the last of my will, for it was all I had left, I made it outside the circle and into cleaner air, the creek somewhere close by. I lay down, one side of my face cushioned by the soft grass.
I’d chosen to save my child and to try to save the city, too, and I knew in my heart that I’d done the only thing I could. If I made it out of this, I’d figure out a way to fix things. There was always a way to fix things.
A small one-syllable chuckle eased through my lips, my breath stirring the grass and tickling my nose. Stupid thought. Stupid, unhinged Charlie. I wasn’t making it out of here.
No regrets, I thought on a sigh that ended in blackness. No regrets—
CHAPTER 19
“Pick her up. Easy, you fool.”
“Call me a fool again, Rex, and you’ll be—”
“Guys, guys, c’mon. Help a siren out here. Carreg, grab her arm, make sure it doesn’t dangle.” Hands dug under me and lifted. My head thudded against a hard chest as another hand placed my wounded arm gently over my stomach.
The bounce of footsteps jarred me somewhat, but otherwise I was protected in a cradle of warmth. This must be some kind of residual memory. I’d died. Hank, Rex, and Carreg had come back to rescue me, but they were too late and now they were carrying my dead body home.
Suddenly, a burst of understanding jolted me. Carreg had made it. Rex and Hank were free from the lab. That meant … Emma was safe. A flood of relief soothed my thoughts. Emma was safe. Now I could rest in peace. Peace out. Laughter bubbled out of me.
“She’s laughing,” Rex’s voice sounded from somewhere behind me. “What the hell is she laughing about? Dude, maybe she’s brain damaged or something.”
Poor Rex. He was once just a spirit. Like me. He must be hearing my incorporeal self.
I was floating, floating over the grass and woods, and the crickets and katydids, through the crisp nighttime air. And into blackness.
“Uh, Charlie?” Fingers tapped my cheek. It was Will’s voice. “Hello? Can you hear me?” More annoying taps.
“Stop tapping her cheeks like that. She doesn’t like it.” This from Emma.
She was right—I didn’t like it. You tell him, baby.
“Momma,” she said, so close to me, I could feel the soft brush of her breath on my other cheek. It smelled like bubble gum. “Can you wake up now, please?”
Instinct lifted my hand, wanting nothing more than to run my fingers through her hair. A gasp reached my ear as my hand landed on a real head of soft hair. Stunned, my eyes cracked open.
What the—
I blinked rapidly until my sight adjusted to the overhead light and the grinning face hovering above me. “Emma?” I croaked out through papery lips.
I’d never seen her smile so big. She turned away from me for a second and said, “See, I told you I could do it. You owe me twenty bucks.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Rex muttered. “Here, you little thief.”
She grabbed the twenty and then turned back to me. “I love you, Mommy.” Then she hugged me tightly.
There was nothing like it in the world. I breathed her in, amazed and humbled that I was here. Apparently alive by some insane miracle. It all dawned on me at once. I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, my eyes too dry for tears. God, she smelled so good.
Emma drew back, and I scrutinized every inch of her. She looked perfect and unharmed. Her brown eyes were bright, her auburn-brown hair in the usual ponytail, and those few freckles splattered across her little upturned nose. Over her shoulder, Rex was staring down at me with a happy, slightly goofy, smile.
I was in a hospital room, lying in an elevated position. To my left, Hank’s big sleeping body was sprawled over a worn out recliner. To my right, the curtain was drawn back to reveal my sister lying in a similar bed, her head turned and staring, teary-eyed, at me.
“Bryn?”
A smile came slowly to her face, and though it was a happy one, there was an air of sadness about her, a flat, haunted look that hovered behind her eyes and dimmed the light that was usually there. My lips parted, about to ask her what was wrong when Aaron came through the door with two vases of Gerbera daisies. I bit my tongue. Immediately, he headed toward Bryn’s bed, but when he saw where her attention was fixed, his gaze shifted to my bed. “Well, it’s about time.”
“Hello to you, too.” I coughed, my throat dry and sore, as he set one of the vases by my bed and the other by Bryn’s. When that was done he glanced from sister to sister, shook his head, and grinned, taking a seat in the empty chair next to Bryn’s bedside.
“Would someone mind telling how I got here, and why Bryn is in that bed?”
Emma scooted more fully onto my bed as Rex sat at the foot, making me move my feet over.
“Ash,” Aaron explained. “It doesn’t have the same effect on us as it does on humans. Bryn was in a coma for five days. But with Titus Mott’s help, she and the others are now on the road to recovery.”
“And outside, what’s been happening on the streets?”
“It’s quiet. A few more overdoses trickled in, but, so far, it appears that field you flooded halted the supply. And no other cities have reported any cases, so looks like we got to it before it went wide.”
For now. It was only a matter of time before someone else picked it back up again, or introduced something entirely new into society.
“And you should know,” Aaron continued, “it’s dark outside. Charbydon dark.”
My eyelids fluttered closed for a few seconds as I composed myself. I knew it. I’d felt it in the circle, had seen it shooting up from the ground, and I felt it now, in my bones, in the faint thrum of my Charbydon side. I accepted the news with a nod, not ready to deal with those repercussions right now. “How long have I been out?”
“Seven days.”
“Seven days!” I tried to sit straighter, but gave up as weakness stole over me. I hadn’t used my muscles in a week. My gaze drifted to Emma. “Where were you this whole time?”
She shrugged and popped a bubble with her chewing gum. “I stayed at Aunt Bryn’s with Daddy.”
Okay, so maybe I hadn’t woken up all the way. Surely I hadn’t heard that correctly. “Come again?”
Rex gave me a pointed look. “Em and I took care of the shop, and looked after Gizmo and Spooky. Disney World will just have to wait.”
My pulse surged. I’d dreaded the moment when Emma would discover that the man she knew as her father was gone. I never had the time to sit down and really think about how I would tell her or what I would tell her. Panic shot through me. I wasn’t prepared.
Rex stopped making eyeballs at me since obviously I wasn’t getting his meaning. He let out an impatient huff, and leaned in for a hug. His mouth pressed against my ear as he whispered. “I know, not many actors can pull off a role like this,” he said, clearly amazed by himself. “Good thing for you I just happen to be an exceptional artist. You can thank me later. And just remember to call me Will.” Emma grinned at his display of affection, and I felt the most horrible sensation in my gut as I realized he was playing the part of Will. Lying to my kid was not something I was comfortable doing.
I put an arm around him and made like I was kissing his cheek. “We’ll talk about this later …”
A low chuckle bathed my cheek in warm breath. “Oh, Charlie,” he said loudly. “I’m glad to see you, too, baby.” He straightened and let out a happy sigh. Yeah. Exceptional, my ass.
Emma beamed at the man she thought was her father.
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked her.
“Uh, yeah. Everyone can stop babying me now.” She rolled her eyes. “Although, I’m cool with the extra junk food and later bedtime.”
Rex shushed her with a hand over her mouth, but she just giggled and shoved him away. “C’mon, kid
.” he said “Let’s go tell the doctor she’s awake before you rat me out some more.”
She gave me a happy eye roll that said, Daddy has lost his mind, but I like it, and then hopped off the bed.
As they left, I sat there stunned for a long moment, unsure how I felt about him taking care of my kid for the last week, or the fact that he, we, were lying to her. I’d have to tell her. Sooner rather than later.
“She’s been well looked after, Charlie,” Aaron said. “Hank’s been sleeping over at Bryn’s, too. Rex seems to have taken on the role of father like he was born to it.”
The doctor came in, so we shelved the conversation as he listened to my heart, checked my blood pressure and the bandages on my arm and back. He gave me another day in the hospital before I could leave, which I immediately objected to. I wanted to go home. My bed. My clothes. My life to get back to normal as soon as possible. We finally settled on me leaving mid-morning tomorrow if everything still looked good.
Hank woke during the exam, shell-shocked to see me sitting up and speaking. Watching him try to wake up and digest it all was an amusing distraction. His hair was ruffled and one side of his face held the pattern of the checkered pillow he’d been sleeping on. The voice-mod was still stuck on his neck, but I tried not to let my gaze or thoughts dwell on it and ruin the moment.
After visiting for a little while and keeping things light, Aaron and Hank left, followed a few minutes later by Rex and Emma. She had school in the morning and homework to finish.
“Amanda came by a few times to visit you,” Bryn told me once we were alone. “They let her go home yesterday. Cass fled the country. He left the lab and everything in it, so Titus had all the samples he needed to study the drug.”
I turned more to face her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”