the Darkest Edge Of Dawn (2010) (13 page)

Em grabbed her spoon and pushed the scoops around the bowl as I continued to chew. "Mom told me who you really are." Her voice was quiet and small.

"Oh." Rex paled. "Shit." I kicked him under the table. "I mean ... well ... yeah, about that ..." I'd never actually seen Rex at a loss for words before. He dragged a shaky hand through his damp hair and shot me a glare. "Thanks for the warning." I decided to show mercy and intervene, swallowing my bite and then clearing my throat.

"Can he hear me?" Emma asked before I could speak.

"Uh ... well, no I don't think so." At her instant disappointment, he hurried on. "But I think he can sense things. You. Your mom. He's
aware,
I guess you could say, just not in an active way."

"So can't you just leave him?" she asked, and it was Rex's turn to look hurt.

"Feeling the love right now, ladies. Feelin' the love." He plopped his spoon in the bowl, looking totally dejected. "Sure I can leave him. Just feed me some arsenic, stick me under a guillotine, shoot me in--" I kicked him again, this time harder. "Ow! Stop kicking me!"

I'm sure my kid would love to hear that Revenants entered at the brink of death and left on the brink of death. Sure, Rex could heal Will's body and stay until old age or natural causes took him, but he didn't
have
to. If a Revenant wanted to leave, because the body was getting too old and decrepit to enjoy life or for whatever reason, he simply put the host into a suicide type situation or was careless enough that an accident would happen. It was the dark and dirty side of possession, and one of the reasons why soul-bartering was illegal.

"It's okay," Em told me. "I know how they leave." She blinked rapidly and stared down. "I don't know why I asked that."

"We'll figure it out," I said. "Right now, Dad is safe. He's not going anywhere. And Rex isn't leaving until we find a way for him to leave safely, without hurting Dad. Right, Rex?"

"I already said as much. I'm not the bad guy here, you know."

Em nodded to no one in particular, finally spooning a bite of ice cream into her mouth.

For a while, we ate in silence. Until Rex cleared his throat and nudged Emma with his elbow. "So, um, me and you ... we're cool, right?"

The determined gaze she gave him impressed even me. "So long as you keep my dad safe and promise not to leave him. Then, yeah. I guess we're cool."

"Cool."

An uncomfortable few seconds passed before small talk resumed. And when Emma started telling Rex about communicating with Brim, I knew we'd somehow get through this. It wasn't hard to see the relief. Emma finally understood her odd suspicions and feelings, and Rex was able to be himself, which he'd been all along anyway--so much for the
acting skills.
And me, I didn't have to lie anymore or pretend. Still, it was more than odd sitting around the table with my family, with a man that looked and sounded just like my ex-husband, and knowing he was trapped inside there somewhere.

I saw it in Emma's eyes, too. The curious looks, the sadness, and even the hope when we talked about ways to bring Will back. That was the only thing keeping her together, the knowledge that he was in there somewhere; she could see him, touch him, and know he was safe. And one day he'd be back. And Rex, well, he could charm the pants off anyone, and Emma was no exception. She'd been completely taken with him from the start; she just didn't fully understand that the craziness was coming from Rex rather than her dad.

After the ice cream was gone, I stood at the sink rinsing the bowls as they went into the backyard to let Brim destroy the bowling ball. Their muffled voices floated through the window, sounding relaxed and easy, above the soft clink of the dishes.

Without warning, my chest constricted, and my throat swelled. Intense loneliness filled me. Tears burned my eyes and I sniffed, finishing my task and then going upstairs to bury my face in my pillow.

For once I wished I had a warm, hard, male body to curl into, to make
me
feel safe and protected. I had to look out for everyone, to comfort and protect them ... but where was
my
protector?

I stared at the empty spot next to me, remembering Will lying on his back, one leg bent and one arm thrown over his head. How it was the perfect invite for me to scootch over and rest my head on his chest. His arm would come down around me and his hand, warm from sleep, would rub my arm.

Yeah. Lonely. That explains everything.

* * *

My dreams kept me tossing and turning for a large part of the night and morning, my mind playing over disjointed scenes of the warehouse, the hellhound, and Llyran being pulled through the window and into the darkness.

Aaron had warned me. My blood would make me a target, a beacon to all the psychos and grand-scheming lunatics of the world. Because I was different, seen as an instrument. An anomaly. Something unique and powerful.

Hah. If only they knew how random that power was, and how little I knew to control it.

I rolled over and hit the alarm button before it could ring.
Great potential, my ass,
I thought, returning to my back and throwing my arms wide with a loud huff, wanting nothing more than to pull the comforter over my head and sleep all day.

I turned my head to snuggle into the pillow, catching movement on my forearm. My skin turned paler, almost a creamy white, as my veins became more prominent. Then they moved, making patterns. "What ..."

I shot up, sitting straight, my heart in my throat. What the
hell
? I blinked hard and then opened my eyes. Nothing. Just my forearm and the long, partially healed scar that ran down the middle where I'd sliced my vein open to bring darkness to the city.

Emma's door creaked, followed by the tap of Brimstone's claws on the floor and then the thuds on the stairs as they went down to the back door.

Just blood vessels and my fuzzy morning eyesight,
I told myself. Yeah, blood vessels that moved and made linked, script-like patterns.

Just get up and get moving. Get working on the case.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and filed the episode away, making a note to mention the odd visions I'd been having to Aaron at our next training session, then I listened to my inner voice, grabbing my clothes and heading to the downstairs bathroom since mine was partially destroyed.

Once dressed in dark cargo pants and a stretchy white button-down shirt, I twisted up my hair with a clip, put in my diamond studs, and applied a layer of mascara and a quick swipe of clear lip gloss. The aroma of brewing coffee led me to the kitchen where I expected to find Rex tooling around, but he was nowhere in sight. Ravenous, I wolfed down a plain bagel and fixed two cups of coffee, one for Rex, and then leaned against the counter, taking several sips of the thick, hot liquid and feeling infinitely better.

Em came down the stairs in her school uniform--white blouse, Black Watch plaid skirt, knee-high white socks, and black Mary Janes. Her book bag was slung over one shoulder, a Pop Tart in her mouth that she must've grabbed when she let Brim out earlier, and her other hand holding her Cobweb outfit for the play. I set the cup down and pulled the Pop Tart out of her mouth. "Good morning."

"Morning. Practice for the play starts at four." A horn honked outside. "That's Miss Marti and Amanda. I have to go. It's dress rehearsal, so I won't be home until seven."

"Okay. Have fun, kid. And leave your amulets on when you change." I kissed her and then stuck the Pop Tart back into her waiting mouth. She smiled, somehow mumbling a goodbye as she trotted down the hall, the fairy wings on her costume bobbing, and out the front door.

I finished my coffee, set the mug in the sink, and then went to the foyer closet to get my weapons harness off the hook. I strapped it on, checking all three of my weapons as I walked back down the hall to grab another bagel. I was just snapping the flap over my Hefty when Rex came out of the downstairs bathroom in nothing but a towel around his waist and in the process of drying his hair with another towel.

Two more steps and I would've smacked right into him, but that didn't stop the scent of aftershave and clean skin from springing up all around me--the scents of memories. My stomach seemed to go instantly empty despite the bagel and coffee.

I stood frozen in the hall, mentally and emotionally caught off guard. Will's body appeared as fit as ever, and it looked even better with droplets of water clinging to hard pecs and abs. The one thing I'd probably never get over was the fact that my ex looked really, really good.

Slowly, he withdrew the towel from his head, using his other hand to run his fingers through the wet hair, pushing it back from his forehead. His Adam's apple bobbed slowly, and he eyed me for a long second, frozen like I was.

My mouth had gone paper dry, but I managed a swallow. "Is he in there right now?" Grief burned through my chest. "Do you hear him at all?"

A corner of his mouth dipped, and he shook his head, his baby blues taking on a pitiful look. "Sorry."

Not even a little bit?
I wanted to ask, wondering why I felt compelled to keep asking the question; the answer was not going to change. I wanted something, a tiny bit of hope, a sign that would allow me to throw my arms around him, smell his familiar scent, and just hold on to him for a while, but he wasn't in there and--

Rex's arms wrapped around me, pulling me close.

Stunned, I didn't move, but my other senses went on high alert. God. He smelled the same, felt the same, and my reaction was the same--one of great comfort, like curling up in your favorite blanket right after it came out of the dryer. Rex's hand pressed the small of my back and the other hand cradled my head, holding me so that my cheek pressed against his shoulder. For one small second, I let my eyes close.

Why? Why had Will gone and done something so irrevocable? I'd loved him. There
had
been a chance between us. Had he been patient. Had he been thinking about us instead of himself. Disappointment and regret crept into my heart like salt sprinkled onto an open wound. I pushed away, my cheeks burning. "Don't do that again."

Rex stared at me for a long moment. "You wanted me to."

"No, I didn't want you to. I didn't want
Will
to, either. So don't touch me again. Got it?" I pivoted on my heel, forgetting about the extra bagel, grabbed my things out of the front closet, and left.

I parked on Alabama Street and hurried to Underground, stopping at the small grocery store on the corner of the plaza and Mercy Street to pick up some groceries and essentials for Bryn. Then I made a quick beeline for the bakery shop at the head of Helios Alley to get another coffee to go and two gigantic Aeva buns.

The Elysian imps made
the
best baked goods in the universe, and the Aeva bun was like eating a sugary cloud, so light and fluffy that each bite melted as soon as it hit your tongue. Every time I ate one I forgave the imps for their
other
talent--nimble fingers and an extreme weakness to possess shiny objects that did not belong to them.

I placed one of the buns into a grocery bag, then looped six of the plastic bag handles over my left forearm and three over my right, leaving my hands free so I could eat the other Aeva bun and drink my coffee. A little clunky, but doable. I was done with the bun way before I got to Bryn's door, and hit the buzzer.

She met me at the top of the landing in a large sleep shirt. "Here." I held out the second Aeva bun as I scooted past her rumpled form. It wasn't the healthiest breakfast in the world, but the Aeva that gave the heavenly confection its name was very similar to sugarcane, and the sugar-like rush would get Bryn up and moving.

She shut the door behind me as I hurried to put the groceries away. "Did you feed Gizmo yet?" I asked, noticing the water bowl was full, but the food bowl was empty.

"Yeah. He's snoozing on top of the cabinet there." Mouth full, she pointed to the kitchen cabinet, the top end. A small bit of his forked tail hung over the edge. Gargoyles loved to be up high.

I closed the refrigerator and stuffed a few things into the pantry. "You take your dose yet?"

Bryn sat on the arm of the couch, her bare legs stretched out, ankle bracelets dangling. She reminded me of Emma just then, swallowed up in a long, oversized shirt and her hair a wild mess.

"I'll take that as a no." I shoved the bags into the recycling container. "Where is it?"

"Bathroom," she answered, cheeks full.

I searched for the small packs of
ash,
but couldn't find them. "Where?" I yelled over my shoulder as I bent down to root under the sink.

Her voice came from behind me. "It doesn't come in those powder packs anymore." She stepped into the bathroom, reaching over me as I stood and pulling what looked exactly like an inhaler from the medicine cabinet. "Titus made these for us. You just twist it to your scheduled dose, press down, and it punctures the pack, then you inhale the powder." She performed the actions as she spoke and then pressed her lips to the indented edge and drew in a deep breath.

Her eyes rolled. She took two steps back and slumped against the wall. Her pale throat worked. Her nostrils flared. An expression of ecstasy slid over her features, but as her eyelids closed, a tear slipped out. Her voice was raw when she spoke. "I hate this, Charlie."

My fist closed, my fingernails digging deep into my palm. Goddammit. I pulled my little sister off the wall, gathering her into my arms, taking some of her weight to support her weakened body. "I'm sorry," I whispered into her hair.

Her arms hung limp as the drug worked its way through her system.
Ash
had hit the market so fast, and it had a devastating effect on humans. It was rapture in powdered form made from a legendary, bioluminescent Charbydon flower,
Sangurne N'ashu,
a Bleeding Soul. It either killed on first dose, or hooked you. After some users who had survived the initial dose began dying afterward, we learned that the withdrawal was just as deadly as an overdose. The only way to keep their body from shutting down was to keep feeding them
ash
in small, manageable doses.