the sane Charlie immediately evaporated, overcome by the hum of energy that squelched any opposition. I cocked my head at him. “Come and get it, you alien loser.” They hated to be called aliens. And I lived to irritate the hell out of them.
A low growl issued from deep within his chest. He hunched his shoulders and ran at me like a bull after a rodeo clown. At the last second, I sidestepped and stuck my arm out, connecting with the soft tissue of his throat. He gagged and fell back, gasping for air. I didn’t give him a second to recover before I jerked him to his feet by the parka collar, but he swung up and hit me in the jaw. Blood surged into my mouth. I grabbed at his head, but, like all jinn males, it was just as smooth and hairless as the rest of him. My fingers found the small, delicate cartilage of his ear, and then the two small metal hoops pierced through the skin. I yanked hard. He screamed.
I kneed him in the gut as the other guy, finished with Auggie, jumped on my back. My knees buckled, and we went down in a free-for-all of hands and feet. One of them fisted my hair, lifted my head, and then slammed my forehead into the pavement.
Pain exploded, radiating over the curve of my head. Tiny rainbow crosses danced in my vision. A wave of nausea clenched my stomach. My strength and confidence wavered. Desperate, I bit the hand closest to me, getting a mouthful of thick, hot blood as black and tasteful as tar. I turned onto my back and kicked as hard as I could.
There was blood in my eyes. I couldn’t see. I hurt all over. They were winning, hitting me over and over.
Frustration welled inside me. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t happen. Not again!
I tried to tap into the anger of before, into the strange confidence and strength that had overtaken me.
The pain subsided and the familiar hum returned. I breathed a quick sigh of relief, nearly choking on the blood in my mouth, wanting to gag from the metallic spill sliding down my throat and pooling in my tense, empty stomach.
And then I fought back; like an animal, panicked, wild, hearing only my heart pounding through my eardrums and swinging at anything that touched me.
It seemed to go on for hours; a slow-motion dream that wouldn’t end.
“Charlie! CHARLENE ELIZABETH MADIGAN, STOP IT RIGHT NOW!”
Rough bands pinned me against the wall. I struggled against them, against the hard, scratchy surface. Tears made a hot trail down my face. The sensation of loss gripped me. Distant sobs echoed in my ears, and I realized with sudden clarity it was me making those horrid gasping sounds.
The wail of sirens filtered through my disorientation along with my sister’s voice saying my name over and over again.
I was so tired. Too tired to fight anymore.
Cold water splashed on my face, bringing me sputtering back to reality.
My feet were off the ground, my back pressed flat against the brick wall, held there by thick vines that wrapped around my limbs and torso. The vines had come from a potted plant near the map store.
Bryn stood in front of me, holding an empty bucket and staring up at me with tears and worry.
A crowd had gathered, a group of tourists snapping a few pictures. Others were drawn to the gruesome sight of Auggie’s lifeless body surrounded by broken and spilled vials, their liquid framing him in a macabre rainbow of color and blood; and the three jinn bodies, one frozen from the nitro blast and two beaten to death. Blood was everywhere. Mine and theirs. Red and black.
Bryn’s chest rose and fell quickly. Her healthy skin had turned ashen. The smile that always lurked in her eyes was gone. “Charlie,” she urged again, this time with a catch in her voice.
My mouth was too swollen to talk, but I didn’t have to ask. I knew Bryn had done this, had stopped me. I let my head fall back against the brick and pain shot through my skull. Bryn closed her eyes and mumbled. The vines withdrew, setting me gently on my feet. I crumpled to the sidewalk, and she was there, holding me, getting blood all over her pretty yellow sundress. She smoothed the damp hair from my face and talked to me in a soft, soothing voice, rocking me back and forth, her cheek pressed against my temple. The scent of herbs and spices clung to her clothes, skin, and hair. It was a good smell, the kind that eased my confusion.
She was crying, saying she couldn’t lose me, not again, and not after Connor.
Our brother. My twin.
A senseless act of violence when we were teens, and he was gone.
He was the reason I went into law enforcement, to protect my family, to keep assholes and killers off the streets of my hometown. Bryn had been fourteen when Connor’s car was hijacked with him inside. Two black crafters jacked up on meth had held a gun to his head and made him drive out to Piedmont Park, get out of the car, and beg for his life on his hands and knees. They taped it with a handheld recorder. And then they executed him, took his car, and made it all the way to Vegas, where they bragged to the wrong person about what they’d done.
I’d felt it the moment Connor died. The feeling has never left me.
Bryn’s rambling continued, but I didn’t hear her words, just the sound of her aching, choked voice. Thinking of Connor cleansed the mud from my brain and hardened my soul. He had made me strong, and I wasn’t about to start crumbling now.
I lifted my head and stood with Bryn’s help just as police and paramedics arrived.
“Charlie,” she whispered. “You’re healing.”
“What?”
She stared at me oddly. I could barely see her through the swollen skin around my eyes. “The cuts on your face, they’re healing.”
I touched the split lip, the movement of my arm painful. Everything hurt.
“No, it’s not me. It’s you.”
“It’s not me.” No, it couldn’t have been me. I didn’t have powers like Bryn. And I was okay with that. I had my own kind of magic. It was called a Nitro-gun, a 9mm SIG Sauer, and a Hefty (a Taser-like High Frequency Tag capable of disabling or destroying the sound-sensitive Elysians). That was all the conjuring I needed.
Hank raced down the sidewalk, his face contorted with fear. He skidded to a stop beside us, his breath coming out fast and heavy. Hard, dark sapphire orbs replaced the vibrant blue sparkle of his eyes; they had changed as they always did with any kind of heightened emotion. There was only one other time I’d seen him this distraught. Eight months ago. When I was dying. When he hovered over me in the dark alley between Mercy and Solomon Streets, willing me to live, calling for backup over and over again until his voice broke and praying to a God he had never had much faith in, making every promise in the book if only I’d survive.
“Damn it, Charlie. Are you okay? Did the medics check you out? God, you’re a mess.”
“I’m fine.”
He briefly examined the chaos of the scene. His jaw started to twitch. Never a good sign. He propped both hands on his hips, his voice clipped and tight when he spoke. “You did this?”
Feeling stronger, I picked up my firearm slowly, ignoring the pain, and slid it into the holster under my left arm. “I got one round off,” I said, not meeting his intense gaze. “The other two, guess I just got lucky.” I warned Bryn with my look to be quiet. “They may look strong, but they don’t know how to fight dirty.” It was lame, I knew, but what else could I say? That a weird surge of strength had possessed me and allowed me to kill two jinn with my bare hands? Yeah, right. Even I didn’t believe it. There had to be some other explanation.
Hank dragged his fingers through his hair, looking from the bodies to me and then back again. “You had better hope none of these guys were from the local jinn tribe …”
I couldn’t entertain the thought of jinn retribution. Not right now. Instead, I walked away, passing the paramedics as they placed the bodies in bags, to the officer on the scene to give him my statement.
About a half hour later, Hank and Bryn walked, or rather stalked, me to my car.
“I can’t believe you came down here alone,” Hank muttered, finally breaking the silence.
I’d seen it coming. “I come down here
“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to wait for your partner. I’d think you’d have learned your lesson by now.”
