The Darkest Edge of Dawn

“Oh, funny. Ha, ha. Just make sure you stop by the store.”

“Fine.”

Hank was already clearing his throat before I could get my phone back on my hip. As if Rex didn’t add enough disorder to my life, my partner seemed to take great pleasure in razzing me about living with a Revenant who thought he was the love child of Laurence Olivier and Julia Child, a Revenant currently occupying the body of my ex-husband. And, to top it all off, I still hadn’t found the right way to tell my daughter that Daddy wasn’t really Daddy anymore.

Hank’s mouth opened, one syllable came out, and I said, “Don’t talk to me.”

Rex’s call hadn’t detracted from my absolute fury at Hank. In fact, it just added fuel to the fire. We went a few more strides and then I changed my mind. Screw this, I wanted an explanation. “You mind telling me what the hell that was back there? And for the record, I’ve seen plenty of naked men in my time, okay, and I can do my goddamn job just fine.”

He shoved his hands inside his jacket pockets and let out a tired breath. The drizzle was slowly turning to a soft rain. Fog swirled at our feet. “You wouldn’t understand.”

A sharp laugh burst from my throat. “Oh, right. What is it?” My stomach was already sinking before the words rolled out of my mouth, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Feeling a little emasculated now that your powers are gone, so you have to make me powerless too?”

He stopped and grabbed my shoulders, scowling down at me and barely containing the firestorm behind that tight, furious mask. Heat leaked from his being, swamping me into a startled silence. “Do I look emasculated to you?”

I swallowed and looked. Six-four. Two hundred pounds. Radiating a thick haze of wrath that would’ve cowed anyone else. For the most part, I was fairly immune to the natural lure of sirens. Yeah, they drew my eye, but they drew everyone’s eye. I’d gotten used to my partner’s I-was-made-to-seduce-you-and- please-you appearance … unless he made me take another hard look. Like now.

“Yeah,” he practically growled. “Didn’t think so.”

The cool night air washed over me as he stepped back and then stormed down the path. I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, surprised by how fast my heart was beating, and how quickly I could turn the tables and become a first-rate asshole just like he’d been earlier.

Way to go, Charlie.

I hunched my shoulders against the rain, folding my arms in front of me and quickening my pace.

The sirens living on our world were required by law to wear a voice-mod, a torc-like device, around their necks for everyday public interactions, since the power that often leaked into their voices was far too entrancing and distracting for the rest of us to function properly, and it was difficult for most sirens to control it, or to remember to control it, on their own.

It made me feel like shit to know Hank’s greatest power, the very thing that made him who he was, had been caged inside of him. Hank was my lion—big, intensely beautiful, exuding an easy confidence and mellow demeanor that could only come from being near the top of the food chain. Except now he was shackled by the voice-mod and way more ill-tempered than usual.

The same dark figure that had guarded the gate before stepped out of the shadows at my approach, the tip of a cigarette glowing bright and orange, then slowly disappearing. He pushed open one side of the gate for me to pass. “Your friend already left,” he said with an amused tone. I stopped, spinning on my heel as he gave a low chuckle. “Wouldn’t want to be you right now … or him, for that matter.” The gate shut, and the dark-clad nymph disappeared.

No car. Hank had deserted me.

Fucking hell.

Not that I didn’t deserve it.

After standing there, hands on hips, for a good ten seconds, I released my damp hair to re-knot the long length tighter and more orderly than before—no thanks to Pendaran’s dragon-out-of-water routine. I then began the hike down Tenth toward West Peachtree to catch the MARTA.

The constant darkness, the constant tingle, the constant volatile mood coating the entire city had become exhausting. I needed another lesson with my warlock teacher, Aaron. And no meditating. I needed to fight, to release some of the built-up power in my body, or I was going to completely lose it.

That, or lose my life like those other poor souls who’d been lab rats for Mynogan.

They’d come before me, but had been unable to handle the DNA of two different races injected into their bodies at once. It tore them apart from the inside out. So far, my body was handling it due to ancient bloodlines of both Elysia and Charbydon DNA already in my family tree. Mynogan’s gene manipulation had been successful, had brought me back to life, and had created a being capable of summoning primal darkness with a gift of blood. I’d done what I’d been created to do, but one day, just like all the others, the two opposing powers inside of me would take their toll. It was just a matter of time.

Relax. Center yourself like Aaron taught you.

The walk helped ease some tension from my shoulders, despite the rain. I loved my city, the people, the traffic, the noise. Yes, there was a freakish, supernatural mass of gray overhead that was making life pretty difficult, but beneath it, Atlanta still thrived in a sea of colorful lights that burned day and night. The darkness would never change the fact that this was my home, and I’d love it regardless.

I decided to get off at the Five Points Station and head into Underground before returning to the station. Hank was probably sitting in his office chair with a mug of coffee and his face planted in front of his computer screen, thinking I’d show up at the station any minute.

Whatever. I didn’t care.

Okay. I did care. And it pissed me off.

I replayed the scene over in my mind, trying to figure out why he’d even say such things about me. And then a thought occurred. He’d thrown me off the scent. Distraction Techniques 101. He’d known the right words to say to get me to stop the questions that had been gathering about him and Pendaran. How it seemed like the Druid knew Hank, or knew of him. That had to be it, because Hank being a jerk just for the hell of it didn’t sit well with me. The stuck voice-mod couldn’t have changed him that much.

Maybe his reputation in Elysia preceded him. Charbydons came to Atlanta for obvious reasons—their world was a hot, crowded, hellish place, and it was slowly dying. Elysians, on the other hand, lived in a heavenly paradise. Didn’t seem like a place anyone would want to leave, unless you were running from something, or wanted an escape, or your own territory, or were simply following leaders or loved ones.

I never really questioned why Hank had left Elysia.

Maybe I ought to start.

6

The minute I crossed the plaza where Mercy Street, Helios Alley, and Solomon Street converged, a huge sense of relief washed over me. Out of the drizzle, thank God. At least here in Underground, the darkness only rolled in via the fog when it rained heavily.

Underground was the largest off-world sector in Atlanta, with three main streets that divided the population. Elysians had claimed much of Helios Alley and a few areas Topside, just as the Charbydons had filled Solomon Street to the brim—the jinn, the Mafia of Underground, going so far as to carve out their own territory in the bedrock beneath the streets of Underground.

I headed for Mercy Street, the dividing line, the buffer between the two off-world factions. Mercy Street provided a nice balance of human, Elysian, and Charbydon businesses run and patronized by those who cared more about making money (or spending it) than old wars and endless grudges. Restaurants, shops, nightclubs, bars, spell shops, apothecaries—everything existed down here, and if your need was the slightest bit peculiar, supernatural, or off-world, you’d find it on Mercy Street.

As I strolled over the brick pavers that made up the carless street, my thoughts turned to my sister, Bryn. I hadn’t seen her in two days. And she hadn’t bothered to return my calls, though I knew from Aaron that she was