The Better Part of Darkness

“It could backfire, make us look like opportunists.”

Three voices. One vaguely familiar. I closed my eyes, thinking it would somehow allow me to hear better, but all I saw were flashes of my dream. Those terrible images. I gasped and lost my balance, catching myself with both hands on the soft carpet.

“What? What it is?” Hank whispered.

“Nothing.” I shook it off, reaching for my weapon. It wasn’t there. Shit. “We need to get into that room.”

“We don’t have backup. Or weapons.”

I pushed to my feet and stepped back, biting my lip. We could break the door down, but that would tip off whoever was inside that we were the law. We could wait for them to come out, but that could take hours and there might be another exit from the room.

I turned to Hank. “Put your arms around me.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Our plan. We embrace, fall into the door. It bursts open. We get a good look at them and then act like we were just looking for a place to …”

“Get it on.” His face split into a blinding, deep-dimpled grin. “I like the way you think, Madigan.”

“Focus, Hank.”

We backed away from the door. All business, I wrapped my arms lightly around him, hesitant to touch his smooth, bare skin. My hands settled against his warm back, and I tried not to dwell on the hard muscle under my palms. Hank took my cue, but in his usual all-consuming way. He enveloped me, holding me tightly, one big hand between my shoulder blades and the other splayed way too low on my back. He really didn’t need to press so hard or make sure my hips were that snug against him. I had a feeling if I looked up, it’d be to see him grinning like a damn fool and enjoying this immensely. And the last thing I wanted was to make eye contact lest he see how truly uncomfortable this position had become.

I tried to ignore the scent of his skin mixed with faint traces of the herby stuff that perfumed the baths. And just for a moment, the urge was there to snuggle into him and enjoy the protection and the instant warmth that vanquished the cold.

“Let my shoulder hit the door,” he said, practically lifting me off my feet. “Ready?”

Tensing, I nodded without looking at him.

We rushed the door, twisting before impact so that his shoulder hit the wood, and rammed the door hard enough to fly through.

The breath whooshed out of me as my back connected with hardwood floor and Hank landed on my stomach and chest. So much for chivalry. I’d taken the brunt of the fall, cushioning his landing. He lay sprawled halfway on top of me, our legs intertwined and my gown riding high on my hips. His body shook, and I realized he was laughing, his face buried in my hair and against my neck. I wasn’t sure if it was for real or for the benefit of the room’s occupants.

Recovering my breath, I decided to follow his lead, laughed, and then brushed the hair from my face to see two startled males standing in front of a large desk, staring down at us with a mix of outrage and shock.

“Who the hell are you? Who let you in here?” A thin, dark-haired male stared down at us, his narrow face pinched and red and very familiar

Hank untangled himself from me and helped me stand. My hand was in his when I recognized the accent of the male who’d spoken and immediately realized why he looked so familiar. Otorius, Representative of the Charbydon Political Party here in Atlanta. What the hell was a Charbydon noble doing in a strictly Elysian place of business? And it wasn’t every day you came across a noble—there were so few of them. The significance didn’t escape me as I feigned an embarrassed smile while rearranging my gown.

“Sorry, fellas,” Hank said, wrapping an arm around my waist and squeezing. “Just, you know, looking for a quiet spot with my lady.”

I stifled a groan. He was enjoying this charade way too much.

I turned my attention to the other one in the room and guessed from the cut of his suit and the confidence in his bearing that he was also a noble. In ancient times, we called them gods. They preferred the term Overlords, but I refused to call them that, arrogant bastards. They had the same enormous ego of the Adonai, making me wonder if the “First Ones” myth was true, if somewhere deep in the off-worlders’ ancient history the Elysian Adonai and the Charbydon nobles came from the same stock. Say that now, to either side, and you’d get your heart served to you on a silver platter.

The unidentified noble was leaning his hip on the desk, hands shoved into the pockets of black slacks, regarding me with open interest.

Calmly, I met his stare. A slight grin played on his mouth. Easy, absolute confidence surrounded him, and there was a sultry charisma that clung to him. Jet-black hair framed a face with hard angles, and eyebrows that reminded me of a crow’s wings in flight. He cocked one of those eyebrows at me, and I tried not to notice that my stomach did a gentle, surprising pull. Immediately, I suspected an allure charm.

“How did you get through the main entrance?” Otorius asked.

I played the submissive woman and let Hank explain the scenario we’d concocted. We were met with some serious suspicion. But Hank just cocked a grin and said, “Guess we got lucky, right, babe?”

“Right.”

Then the chair behind the desk turned around.

My heart stopped.

If Hank’s arm hadn’t been around me, I would’ve fallen.

The being who sat behind it came from my worst nightmare. The one I’d had every night since my death.

It was the dark one in the field who’d picked the flesh from my bones. He was here. And he was real.

Fear clawed at my mind, and my mouth went bone dry. I couldn’t swallow, couldn’t catch my breath. Every hair on my arms and legs stood straight.

My heart started again, hammering way too fast. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, so I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision, knowing I couldn’t be looking at the same male who’d invaded my dreams. But somehow it was. I might not have seen his face clearly in my nightmare, but I knew it was him. Somehow I knew.

His stare was on me from the moment he turned around and his eyes pierced me with horror, with every childhood dread and image of evil, all wrapped up in a face that spoke of calm, efficient brutality. A diabolical face.

I swayed. My fingernails dug into Hank’s arm. From the corner of my eye I saw him glance down questioningly.

“Who are you?” I choked out, trying desperately to hold on to reality and not give in to the weakness in my knees and the roll of my stomach.

His lips split slowly into a smile that didn’t move to his flat black eyes. “Come now, Charlie. You don’t remember?”

That smile cut a swath of terror straight to my soul. I had the distinct sense that I was falling as blackness claimed my vision.

CHAPTER 6

“Charlie?” My partner’s voice filtered through the haze, sounding like the distant echo of a bank teller at a drive-through window. But that couldn’t be right, because I felt his warm hand around my upper arm.

Sludge filled my mind.

“Damn it, wake up,” Hank ground out, shaking me a little.

“Does she need a doctor?” another voice asked. Had to be the cute one.

In The Bath House. Upstairs. Veritas. Oh, God! I was still here with them! I sat up, gasping.

Hank knelt back, his face scrunched with concern. “You all right?”

I swallowed the giant-sized lump in my throat and nodded, standing with his help and then straightening my