Shadows Before the Sun

Emma returned and tossed me a half-eaten pack of crackers. I caught them with my left hand, scooted back against the headboard, and stuck a dry saltine in my equally dry mouth.

A parental sigh came out of my daughter’s lips, the sound completely at odds with her twelve-year-old self. Her wavy brown hair had been pulled back into the usual ponytail and her round brown eyes rolled skyward. “Hold on. I’ll get you some water.”

“Thank you. Can you bring me a wet washcloth and the hand gel on the sink, please?”

Em returned, sat on the bed, and handed me a cup of water. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I washed the lump of cracker down my throat and then took the hand gel to remove the evidence of Brim’s loving nose and tongue bath. “My head is killing me.” I glanced at the clock. “Can’t believe how late it is. It’s Saturday, right? Please tell me I haven’t been out for more than a day.”

The clock on my night table said it was nearing noon, but who knew what day it was or how much power Berk had packed into that sedative. Hell, I could’ve been out for days.

“It’s Saturday. You missed dinner and breakfast, though, so Rex is bringing up some food for you.”

Thank God. Not too long at all.

Emma grabbed my wrist and turned my arm so she could look at the markings that had been emblazoned there after I’d wielded the First One’s divine sword, Urzenemelech. Anguish by Fire. Aptly named. It had cleaved the Adonai serial killer, Llyran, in two, burning him to ashes as it went, and it had left me with bluish markings that ran from my hand all the way to my shoulder.

I’d told Emma only what was safe to know, only what she had to know. The same thing that was in the official report: the sarcophagus contained dust and bone fragments and the sword, all of which were destroyed. There was no such thing as a First One. And if those bones in the coffin were something from myth and legend, then they were long since gone from the world.

I didn’t like lying to my kid, but the lies came easier when it meant her safety.

“I wish we knew what this said,” she remarked in a wistful tone, releasing my arm.

“Probably something like: She Who Was Dumb Enough To Wield The Sword . . . ”

Em laughed. “You have to put more gloom and doom into your voice when you say it.”

I smiled and shoved her gently with my foot as Rex entered the room with a tray of food and drink. “I see the grizzly is awake.”

“Rex said you snored like a drunken grizzly. But I thought it was more like a jackhammer turning on and off. On and off. On and off . . .”

“Great. Thanks a lot.” I made a face at both of them. Rex busied himself with the tray. “Sedatives can do that to anyone, you know.”

“Whatever you say, Momma Bear,” he said with a smile. The smell of coffee made my stomach grumble. Rex turned with a mug and handed it to me.

“Thank you.”

He set the tray on the bed near my knee. “Bagels. Turkey sammy with provolone. Some leftover macaroni salad from yesterday. That should hold you and your divinely morphing self a couple hours.”

I set the coffee on the bedside table and picked up the sandwich. Ever since I began evolving, as Aaron put it, my metabolism had skyrocketed. My body was working overtime to readjust to the new DNA that had been introduced to my system. That introduction had saved my life, but it had also enabled me to call darkness over the city for the madman who’d engineered me. I’d done it to save Emma, and would do so again if need be, but would that I could find a way to fix things. Would that you could fix a lot of things.

When I glanced up, Rex and Emma were staring at me. Worry and sadness etched their faces. They knew about Hank. Of course they knew.

“He’s not dead,” I said, chewing.

But they didn’t say anything, just stared at me. Tears sprung to my eyes. I set down the sandwich.

“Momma, please don’t cry.” Emma walked on her knees over the mattress to hug me. My arm slipped around her and I hugged her to my side, kissed the top of her head, and then drew in her familiar scent.

My exhale was rather shaky, but I proceeded on. “I’m sure the chief told you all about it . . . what they said about Hank. But he’s not dead.”

For a long moment, we just stared at each other. They loved Hank, too. Emma, certainly. Rex would in time. Right now he was having too much fun playing the protector. It wasn’t so much that Rex thought I needed protecting, but more that he found it vastly entertaining to give “the siren” a hard time.

“So here’s the way I see it,” Rex broke the silence. “We have two choices. Accept the official government drivel, or give them the official Madigan salute.”

“The official Madigan salute?” I was almost afraid to ask.

He rolled his eyes like I should be following (like it was ever easy to follow Rex’s Crazy Train of thoughts). “Emma, dear one, close your eyes.” She snorted, but did as he asked. Then he turned to me and said, “Let me introduce you to your new response to any and all comers who spew this particular party line.” He made a grand gesture of lifting his hand, folding his fingers down, and popping up his middle finger. “Voilà.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Em said dryly. “I have seen the middle finger before.”

Rex gave her a gentle shove. “Already she’s a juvenile delinquent. What are they teaching you at this school of yours?”

“A bunch of boring stuff,” she muttered, falling back behind me, drawing in her knees, and crossing one leg over the other, so that her knee rested against my shoulder. Brim’s nose lifted her hand in a bid to be rubbed.

Emma had gotten a partial scholarship to attend the League of Mages’ school in Atlanta, a very private, very expensive school that taught gifted children, human and off-worlder, how to craft and best grow their powers. They also, to Emma’s great dismay and my delight, were keen instructors of math, science, grammar, languages, and believed in laying a solid foundation to crafting long before students were able to actually craft.

“Since you were going into Fiallan anyway and Bryn and Miss Marti are already watching me for the week, I think you should stick to the plan. Still go.”

Rex joined in. “The chief is still cool with giving you the week off to go to Fiallan if you want to. He wanted me to tell you that. Thinks you need closure, to see for yourself or you’ll always have doubts. And you already have the necessary paperwork to travel . . . Everything is still on, Charlie. Only question is, when are you leaving?”

A feeling of such relief and hope erupted inside of me. They weren’t going to take anyone’s word for it, either. They’d stand by me, by Hank, no matter what.

“Well?” Rex prompted.

My stomach was doing somersaults. Right. Okay. “Well, as soon as I get a shower and pack then,” I heard myself say.

Rex slapped his hands on his knees and then stood. “Awesome. I picture you walking out the Circe’s door with the siren thrown over your shoulder, giving your new salute as you go.”

Emma laughed. “That’d be so cool. You totally have to do that.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Hank would love to be thrown over my shoulder and rescued like a sack of potatoes.”

“Oh, but that’s the beauty of it,” Rex said with longing. “He’d never live it down and I could spend years reminding him of it.” He looked off into nothingness. “Good times. Good times.”

I got off the bed. “You guys are nuts.” But they believed in me. Believed in Hank. And I was fine living on the funny farm as long as I had them in my corner. I leaned down, grabbed my daughter’s face, and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you. I’m taking a shower.” I turned to walk away.

“Uh, hello? What about me? What the heck kind of gratitude is that? Why don’t I get kisses on my forehead and I love yous?”

“Aww, what’s wrong, Wexie Poo?” Emma teased. “Are your whittle feel-wins hurt? I bet Brim will kiss you, won’t you, Brim.”

Rex’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare tell that hound to kiss me.”

I stopped by the bathroom door. That was the thing about my kid. She could communicate with the hellhound, and poor Rex was about to get slimed.