The Better Part of Darkness

those who already have the genes of both worlds in the family tree.” I glanced at Bryn. “Which would explain how some members of our family are gifted.”

“Could be,” Aaron began, rubbing his chin and pacing slowly across the room. “There was a period long ago in Earth’s early history when cohabitation between races took place. You humans refer to it in your Bible. The fall of the angels and the birth of the Nephilim. But even then the number of normal offspring living to adulthood was extremely low. The Nephilim were usually stillborn, severely abnormal, or they went mad from so much power in their blood.”

“It’s where many believe the psychic humans got their abilities,” Zara offered, tucking her perfect honey-red locks behind her ear, her hand possessively on Hank’s.

Aaron turned and stared at me. “You’re our secret weapon.”

“Okay, number one, there is no our except for me and Rex over there, and two, this power comes and goes. It wars with the other. I have no clue how to use it. Look,” I said, grabbing my jacket, tired of being the anomaly on display, “the only thing that matters is getting Emma back. They won’t hurt her until they have what they want, which is me. And don’t ask me why. But I’m not going to sit around and wait. The longer she’s with them, the more memories she’ll have of this, memories she doesn’t need.”

Hank struggled to sit up. “They have Em? I thought she was with Will—” Then he saw Rex. Understanding paled his tanned skin to white. He lost his strength and fell back into the cushions with a string of mumbled curses. Now he understood what we were up against.

I knew he felt as angry and vengeful as I did, and now that the voice-mod was stuck on his neck—well, I’ve known my fair share of men—if I had to guess, he was feeling pretty useless right now. He sat up with Zara’s help, his body healing courtesy of his Elysian blood. Bryn handed her the herbal tea and Zara helped him to drink.

“I’ve a fully loaded Nitro-gun,” he said after a sip, “and more where that one came from.”

“And I can get into Veritas,” Zara piped up. “Find out where Mynogan lives, the businesses and real estate he owns. They have to be holding your daughter somewhere, right?”

Bryn stepped next to the couch. “I can fight.”

Aaron fell in beside her. “So can I. And I can train you in the meantime, Charlie; help you to control your power. They won’t be expecting that.”

Rex sighed heavily and didn’t bother rising from the love seat. “And I suppose I can take a beating as good as anyone else.”

My chest constricted.

“Charlie,” Bryn prompted with a hopeful look in her brown eyes.

I could only nod, humbled by the people in this room who would fight for Emma, some who didn’t even know her. And those who did; I knew they’d give up their lives for her.

“I don’t mean to interrupt this Hallmark moment, people,” Rex said, “but has anyone wondered why?”

“Why what?” Zara asked.

“Why Charlie? They turned her into Wonder Woman, took her kid, and for what? Guys like Mynogan, they’re like Scooby-Doo villains; they always have a master plan.”

I leaned against the foyer table. Guess Will could’ve done worse. Instead of contracting with an evil son-of- a-bitch, he got a smart-ass comedian with a love of theater. Joy. But Rex was right. There was a bigger picture here, one we weren’t seeing. Otorius had all but said the same.

Aaron cleared his throat. “I might be able to help with the why, but first I need to be sure. The library at the mages’ league should shed some light on things.”

I itched to do something, anything other than sitting here and talking about how to get my daughter back. “Fine. I’ll go with you,” I told Aaron. “Zara, you and Hank get into Veritas. Bryn and Rex, pool your powers. You can divine, right?” I asked her, remembering her mentioning it before. She nodded. “Good, use a map, see if you can figure out where they’re keeping Emma. If you find the area, Zara and Hank’s real estate info should be able to pinpoint a location.”

Heads nodded.

“Good.” I turned to Aaron. “Let’s go.”

When we reached the landing outside of Bryn’s door, he grabbed my hand before I could protest and said, “Relax, we’re taking a shortcut.”

The floor dropped out from under me; at the same moment my body changed from the physical to pure energy. What the hell?

I couldn’t gasp or feel my heart racing, though it felt like those things were happening. I tried to squeeze Aaron’s hand, to hold on, suddenly terrified I’d be swept away and dispersed into the air. But no sooner than I decided to panic, I became whole again, Aaron’s hand still in mine.

“It’s simply an issue of manipulating matter and energy,” he said.

I doubted it was as simple as that. I dropped his hand, feeling the weight of my body more heavily than before. And then I slugged him in the shoulder. “Next time, try giving me a little warning, k?”

His emerald eyes crinkled at the corners, his lips twisting into an amused smile as he rubbed the spot.

“So, what are you then, a Master?” I asked, knowing not every warlock or mage could do what he just did.

He laughed. “I was. That was two hundred years ago. I’m a Magnus now.”

Holy cow. Thank you, Bryn. Having a Magnus on our side was a huge bonus. I gave him an impressed nod, then looked around the room.

We stood in the center of a large pentagram, the outline set into a hardwood floor with a deep brown wooden inlay. Two tall windows shrouded by gold brocade curtains and the expensive wallpaper made me feel small and out of place. An altar with ritual paraphernalia sat against the left wall, and shelves full of books, herb pots, and specimen jars lined the right wall. Yeah. Totally out of place.

We were definitely in the headquarters of the Atlanta League of Mages. “Nice place,” I said, looking up at the ceiling as Aaron guided me to the door. The entire room was framed with thick, ornate crown molding. A vaulted ceiling supported a massive wrought-iron chandelier, and the entire room smelled of sage.

“When we bought the mansion, it was about two hundred years in need of repair—just a skeleton, but with good bones. Now,” he glanced around the room, “it has been brought back to its former glory.”

The revival of the old Mordecai House had been headline news when the League bought it a few years back. In its heyday it was the biggest antebellum mansion in Atlanta. Now it was home to the mages. And the décor fit. High and lofty, with a scholarly touch.

I kept pace next to Aaron as we headed down a wide hallway planked with old restored hardwoods. Voices drifted from closed doors, but otherwise the atmosphere was respectful and hushed. “You know why Mynogan wants me, why he’s done this to me,” I stated as we descended a grand old curving staircase to the first floor.

“I have some idea, but I want to check the scrolls to make certain. It all fits, though. The timing. Your body’s ability to incorporate the genes …”

With a whisper, two massive double doors opened, inviting us into the most beautiful library I’d ever seen. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Two levels with an ornate wooden spiral staircase leading to the second level, where a small walkway framed by an iron railing went all the way around the room. Supple leather couches sat opposite each other, and there were sev eral matching chairs tucked into corners. On one side of the room, there were study tables and a large map table, and, on the other side, an enormous stone fireplace held court.

Loving the smell of books and leather, I inhaled deeply as Aaron walked to a section protected by leaded glass. His body blocked the case from my view. All I could see were his wide shoulders encased in the green silk and his dark head, which bowed in concentration. He spoke a series of incantations in a low hum of a voice. A thrill went through me as I responded to the energy, the magic in the room. I was waking up to a whole other world that existed in tandem with the one I knew so well. I had so much to learn, and the realization left me a little overwhelmed and highly impatient.

Two clicks sounded as the latches to the case released. Aaron turned his body slightly, and I watched him carefully remove a burnished, ancient-looking scroll tied with leather strings. He took it to the map table and unrolled it with surgical precision, and then I helped to weigh the corners down with cold brass paperweights forged to look like dragons.

A musty scent mushroomed into the air, but it wasn’t like the smell of old paper or books. “Ugh.