Dawn till Dusk: An Urban Fantasy Romance (Genesis Crystal Saga Book 1)

by Becky Moynihan

  Mordecai turned his lethal stare onto Tarik again. Deflecting. Baiting, as he said, “What have you done to her?”

  Tarik shrugged. “Not much. Yelled at her a bit. Kissed her a couple times.” Unconsciously, I slid my lip ring between my teeth as his own lips curled back. I bit down when he snapped, “But I didn’t stick a hot brand on her neck. I didn’t beat her face in. I didn’t take a hammer to someone’s legs. No, that was all you.”

  “Reagan doesn’t belong to you,” Mordecai bellowed. He exploded with a roar, teeth gnashing as he launched himself at Tarik. In the span of a heartbeat I shifted, slamming my paws into his chest. I shoved him to the ground, snarling in his face as he tried to squirm free.

  “You’re a wasted investment,” he seethed. “I tried to change you, tried to make you reach your full potential. But no, even I couldn’t save you. Your mother’s blood runs too deep. Filthy, disgusting Fae blood.”

  Time seemed to jolt to an abrupt halt, then jumped back to full speed.

  My mother was Fae?

  The wheels in my mind wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t do the math. Mordecai knew my real mother. Knew her, and apparently hated her. Or maybe he was lying yet again. Was she alive? She couldn’t be if she had left me to be raised—to be trained and broken—by this man. But who—?

  Booming wings broke through my whirling thoughts. The walls crashed in around me. Alec’s blue dragon form smashed through, pinning my wing to the floor. I shifted as he swept a clawed foot inside. He shoved me backward before securing Mordecai in his grip, launching them into the sky.

  The smooth floor offered no purchase and I skittered across, smacking into the wall, my body barking in agony. After a moment of painful panting, I eased onto my back. My side burned in protest and I groaned as the rubble on the floor bit into my skin. I turned my head, searching for Tarik, only to find him stumbling around the debris. The world tilted and I closed my eyes, taking in slow, deep breaths until my head calmed.

  “Imagine that,” I murmured. The words wavered, despite my best efforts. I glanced toward Tarik. “Guess I’m a little bit of a Fae prick too . . .”

  Tarik knelt beside me, red hair shadowing his face. Carefully, he touched my arm, and I felt his healing magic begin knitting my wounds closed. He stayed like that, silent, for several long moments. He was simply . . . there.

  Finally, he raised his head and I caught sight of red-rimmed eyes. A fresh wave of guilt struck me. Before I could cry, or pull away, or do anything, he smiled softly, saying, “I’m not surprised. I didn’t connect the dots, though. Probably because you’re so short.”

  Despite myself, an airy laugh escaped. The sound of frantic voices broke the moment and I sat up. My stomach plummeted as images flashed through my mind. Bodies. Blood. Elias. Children.

  Children.

  Tears welled in my eyes and the urge to flee shuddered through me.

  My fault. All of this. My fault.

  If not for me, none of this would have happened.

  Still, I would help the Fae clean up. Carry the injured away from here, heal them as much as my rudimentary skills would allow. After, I would leave. I would run, try to flee the city, maybe through that underground passage. I could draw Mordecai and Alec away. If I couldn’t . . . Maybe I should return to the manor, try to distract them and minimize their attacks on the Fae. My eyes met Tarik’s and I pressed my lips into a hard line, concealing the sob that pushed at my throat. He would never forgive me, but he would be alive. Pain wrenched at my heart and shivered through my body. I looked away before the tears sprang free.

  “Did anyone find Benji?” I whispered, voice quavering. I probably didn’t want to know the answer.

  The hand on my arm began to tremble. Tarik’s voice was strained as he said, “No. Flynn is missing, too. And . . . and—” He made a choking noise. “Elias is dead.”

  My heart shattered, splintered into a thousand tiny pieces that pierced my veins. Tears slid loose, trailing through the grime on my cheeks. I wanted to comfort him as much as I wanted to steal his comfort for myself. I withdrew. Kept the feelings brimming in my mind to myself. I didn’t need to be his burden, not right now, when I had cost him so much. Cost all of the Fae so much.

  Not when it was all my fault.

  —

  At the southern end of Nathra City, a field stretched as far as the eye could see. Beyond was a network of mines, distant enough to not feel threatening, but unquestionably there, hidden beneath the grass. The expanse of green glowed beautifully under the moonlight that broke through the darkness. Here, under a towering willow, we held the last ceremony for the lost. Several of the Fae came down earlier in the day to hang tiny lights from the tree, in recognition of the final rites.

  Fae funerals were beautiful. They believed that in death, they should be returned to the earth. Early in the morning they had begun the ceremonies, small funerary pyres lit at varying times and places in the field. Normally, they would have done them all at once—the Fae had permission to use this section of field for their funeral traditions—but since most of us were fugitives, it was risky to be out in the open like this.

  I hated that I saw beauty in any part of this disaster. Hated that I was the reason for so much death. That I hadn’t left well enough alone—left Tarik alone.

  And now . . .

  I tried to convince myself that I had done what I could. I had saved a few of them, and that was enough.

  But no. Nothing I had done was enough.

  They hadn’t deserved the havoc wrought on them by yet another shifter. I was exactly what Tarik had always feared of me.

  And we still couldn’t find Benji.

  My stomach churned. The feeling grew, and I almost retched when the Fae passed prayers and offerings over the final funeral pyres. They buried the scent of death with incense, but even that couldn’t mask the ache I felt over the losses—every single one of them—burning my soul. In all the world, there wasn’t anything that would make up for the lost children. Or Elias. My chest squeezed painfully at the thought of Elias on one of those pyres.

  I stood alone, far to the back of the group. Tarik was beside Rebel Leader, comforting him in a way I didn’t know how. I couldn’t help any of them. Hell, I could barely even look at Sebastian, whose tears fell freely at the loss of another sibling. Or at the twins, offering him silent support.

  Why did I always have to be so stubborn? I could have listened to Tarik and stayed behind. Fought more, saved more, done more.

  Several of the Fae had thanked me for protecting them.

  Thanked me.

  My eyes burned at the memory.

  Bright orange flames licked at the night sky and I almost crumbled. If I could take everything back and suffer the pain myself, I would. All of these broken hearts, these falling tears, these sorrowful eyes. I did this. Not Tarik, not even solely Mordecai. I was the reason they had lost so many friends and family members.

  I brushed a tear from my cheek.

  Nevaeh already knew what I was planning to do after the funeral. I couldn’t cause more grief, more pain, so I was leaving. Fleeing, like the coward I was. I didn’t know where I would go—maybe to learn more about my mother. Knowing that she was Fae should have given me some kind of comfort but, staring at the fires in front of me, the knowledge only made me feel worse.

  My gaze lingered on Tarik as the plan ran through my mind again. I knew how much this would hurt him, even if that wasn’t my intention. My heart ached every time I looked at him.

  He was better off. They all were.

  I closed my eyes. Snuffed out the sight in front of me. Nothing helped. Elias. Benji and Flynn. Hundreds of Fae, missing or dead or hiding in the tunnels under the city.

  Their memories would haunt me for a long time to come.

  I couldn’t wait much longer. If I did, I wouldn’t leave. If I did, the thought of hurting Tarik would cripple me. Would hold me here. My thoughts skipped over his voice, his touch, the brush of his lips. We were
building something. Slowly, with our fair share of bumps and confusion and uncertainty—but something.

  My breath stuttered. I couldn’t linger. He glanced in my direction, like he knew my thoughts. I let my gaze roam over his handsome face, memorizing the lines, the freckles, his nose, his mouth. The green eyes that flickered with fire light. I absorbed every tiny physical detail that made Tarik who he was, down to the beautiful jagged scars that marred his cheek and jawline.

  When he turned away I slipped off, into the dusk, letting my feet lead me back to the city.

  Away. I was going away.

  Where I couldn’t hurt anyone ever again.

  I knew what she was doing.

  Every single molecule in my body knew. I didn’t go after her, though, and that decision killed me.

  She needed space to process, to make sense of the foreign emotions flooding her system. If I pressed, she’d blow up. If I hovered, she’d shut down. I knew all of this, because when I’d glanced across the field, I saw myself in her eyes. I had looked away for a moment, and when I’d turned back, she was gone.

  When I couldn’t find her after the funeral, I’d panicked and grilled every single Fae I ran across. No one had seen her. Coming to my senses, I’d asked her friend Nevaeh. By the way she dodged my questions, I knew she was aware of Reagan’s whereabouts.

  One day I tailed the purple-haired rat shifter as she left the tunnels, a bulky pack slung over her shoulders. She knew I followed—she wasn’t the rebel’s little spy for nothing. And she led me straight to Reagan anyway. I hadn’t gone inside the crumbling building, but I’d paced outside for hours. Debated going in. Forced myself not to. I had lingered like a stalker.

  Rebel Leader slapped a piece of paper on the scuffed table before me, disturbing my memories of the past week. Sound returned. The steady plink of a leaky sewage pipe, the nearby rustling and low murmurs of too many people forced into the cramped underbelly of Nathra City. Most of them hadn’t seen the sun in days—it was already taking a toll, adding more fuel to the growing fear and tension.

  “I know it hurts, son, but she needs time,” Liam said, clapping me on the shoulder. I didn’t bother asking how he knew my train of thought. He always knew.

  “Yeah.” I sighed tiredly and stared at the paper without actually seeing. “But time won’t heal if you hold onto the pain. She’s doing exactly what I did, Liam. That look on her face . . .”

  “Which is why,” he said, taking a seat across from me and tapping the paper, “you’ll be asking her to come along on this mission.”

  My eyes narrowed on the paper until shapes and symbols appeared. “Mission? Don’t you think it’s a little soon? I mean, our numbers were cut in half, our resources all but depleted. Many Fae are missing, including Flynn and Benji.” Saying the boy’s name out loud tightened my throat, and I swallowed roughly. Haven was inconsolable. If we didn’t get him back soon, I worried for her rapidly declining health. She seemed to have stopped trying. “We’ve been forced underground to live in tunnels. You lost your son, for Gaia’s sake.”

  As my temper rose, so did his. He slammed a fist onto the table and I blinked. He was never angry. “And that is exactly why this mission is so important and has to happen now. When tragedy strikes, you pick yourself back up again. You do something about it. When Leilani died, I made plans to build the rebellion and Safehouse days later. Threw myself into being useful, into making a difference. If I had done nothing, I would have wasted away in my sorrow.”

  His words were a blow to my heart. He had suffered as much as I had, but he’d risen above. I, on the other hand, had let the misery bury me. And watching him now with that angry spark lighting his eyes, I knew I couldn’t let him down again.

  I studied the old, water-stained paper, not comprehending its contents. “What is this?”

  “A map.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You have that green, rechargeable rock of yours still?” I nodded, gut twisting every time I thought of that failed mission when we had come home empty-handed. We hadn’t collected a single crystal that night, too panicked to think straight. “Good. Because that crystal is the key to opening the veil.”

  My brows furrowed as I looked up at him. “Huh?”

  He chuckled, his old humor returning. “I took the liberty of exploring Mordecai’s study when you all were loading up on weapons, and hit the jackpot. Information on the Genesis Crystal and what it can do, a map leading to the land our ancestors came from, proof that we’ve been lied to all these years. We weren’t cast out or abandoned by the gods. We’ve simply been trapped, the knowledge of our freedom hidden from us. Our elders were massacred during The Shift, no doubt Mordecai’s doing so they couldn’t tell us how to tip the scales.

  “But now . . .” He grinned wide. “We have the key.”

  “The key to what?” I held my breath. Something told me his answer would change everything.

  “The key to a land teaming with our own kind who can help us stop Mordecai. The key into Daranil, the Fae realm.”

  —

  She hadn’t left the city yet.

  But today, that’s exactly what she was doing. Nevaeh told us about the map Reagan had found of an underground passage—coordinates that we still needed if we were to leave the city ourselves. She’d also helped Reagan scrounge together supplies so she wouldn’t be completely helpless traveling to strange new lands. And now, she was ready. Nothing holding her back. I could feel the familiar well of anger roil in my gut, but I tamped the emotion down.

  She may be leaving without even a goodbye, but she was hurting. I knew all too well the conflicted emotions she was drowning in. So when she exited the rathole she’d been slumming in for the past several days, I didn’t storm over to her. Didn’t grab her and shake sense into her. Didn’t curse and yell.

  No, I snuck up behind her while she was lighting a cigarette and casually leaned against the building’s graffitied wall, despite feeling anything but calm. “You’re needed on a mission.”

  Reagan jumped, nearly dropping the cigarette from between her teeth. She pulled it out long enough to say, “Tarik . . . I can’t.”

  And started walking.

  I kept pace easily, marveling at her short stature. I had missed this. Walking beside her. Matching my stride to hers. I missed watching the wind tease strands of her blue and black hair. Missed the way she nibbled on her lip ring. “The mission will be dangerous. In uncharted territory. We need the strength and expertise of the lion shifter.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t need me. You’ll be safer if I’m gone.”

  I stifled a sigh. She sounded exactly as I did a month ago. The table had flipped and I wasn’t used to being on the top. “Maybe we’re safer, maybe we’re not, but that isn’t the point. We want you to come along.”

  Reagan slowed. Then stopped, stamping out her cigarette before she peered up at me. “I can’t do this, Tarik. I’m sorry.”

  That look in her eyes . . .

  Pain. I wanted to wipe it all away. Unable to hold back a moment longer, I reached out and stroked a thumb down her cheek. “Please don’t leave.” My chest tightened. “I want to help you through this.”

  “I miss you,” she admitted quietly. Her throat bobbed, eyes glistening as grief welled to the surface. “But this, all of this . . . Everything hurts.”

  I dared to move closer, sliding my fingers into her hair. “I know. I know it hurts so bad that breathing is sometimes impossible. I know the images revisit you in your nightmares. I know the guilt is a living thing inside your chest, eating away at your sanity. But”—I carefully pressed my forehead to hers—“running away won’t fix any of that. Actually, running makes everything fester and spread until the hurt completely consumes you. And so I’m begging you. Begging you not to go. Let me help you heal.”

  Tears spilled down her face. “I should have listened to you,” she whispered, a hiccup breaking her voice. “I should have stayed behind and let you handle your m
ission. I could have stopped the dragons. If I leave now, they’ll follow me. If I leave, you’ll all be safe.”

  My thumb brushed away her tears. “You’re just another conquest to them, Reagan, a piece of property. You think that by leaving, the injustices done to the Fae will disappear? That Mordecai will leave us alone? Because he won’t ease up when you’re gone. His terrorizing stems around us and the Genesis Crystal—he’s trying to figure something out. I don’t know what, but he isn’t finished. He won’t stop. Not until we make him. That’s what this mission is for: to put an end to his tyranny.”

  I pulled back, needing to see her expression. “So if you want him to pay for what he’s done, join us.”

  The invitation hung between us, and although I watched her closely, I couldn’t tell if my words had an effect or not. My heart rate climbed when I realized this might be the end. She might very well turn me down and leave this city behind—and everyone in it. A sinking sensation grew in my stomach.

  “All I’ve ever wanted to do was help,” she said at last, a shuddering sob trembling through her small frame. “And I ruined things so completely. All those lives—their blood is on my hands. Their deaths are my fault.”

  And there it was. Hearing the guilt was a spike through my heart. I knew the burden she carried. The burden that shouldn’t be borne.

  “Reagan,” I breathed, sliding an arm around her shoulders. I pulled her in, tucking her head against my chest. “It’s not your fault. The world is a dangerous place full of dangerous people. Bad things happen and we can’t always stop them. A wise old man once told me: sometimes evil wins the day. But instead of giving up hope, we can fight for a better tomorrow. Fight back with me, Reagan. Come on the mission.”

  She turned her face into my chest and inhaled deeply. I waited, refusing to breathe, worried that my words hadn’t been enough. That this was goodbye. But when she spoke, it was a whispered, “I’ll go with you.”