The Darkest Edge of Dawn

okay. It was time for a visit.

I stepped around a sales cart on wheels that held an assortment of rough-cut off-world stones, and shook my head to the vendor, a goblin. For a second, my heart contracted. Auggie, one of my informants, had been a goblin —a bony, yellow-eyed, blunt-toothed, cash-loving guy with a penchant for spellmongering and gossip. I missed him calling my name from the shadows. In the end, he’d tried to protect me from three jinn warriors pushing ash on the street. He’d died for the effort, and I’d never forget him.

I went to open the door to Hodgepodge, my sister’s variety shop, expecting the tinkling of bells and to hear Gizmo’s squawk as he patrolled the comings and goings from his perch atop the bookcase by the door. I was slowly warming to the little gray gargoyle even though I held my ground on the fact that a spell and a gargoyle were no substitute for a real security system.

The door didn’t open.

Frowning, I pulled again, realizing it wasn’t stuck, but double-locked. What the hell? I tried my key, but it didn’t work. I cupped my hands and peered inside, then stepped back and noticed the small sign in the window.

“Closed until further notice?”

“Been closed three days now,” the goblin’s sandpaper voice called from his cart. Three days? My stomach dropped out, and he must have seen my alarm. “Oh, she’s fine.” He glanced up at the apartment windows over the shop. “See her shadow passing every once in a while.”

I stepped away from the door and approached the cart. “How often does she leave the apartment?”

He wiped the stone dust from his long, skeletal fingers, leaving shimmering gray streaks on his dark apron. “More information will cost you.”

The anticipation of money set his dull yellow irises aglow, and I smiled in spite of myself as I reached into the back pocket of my jeans with a brief second of hesitation. I was about to buy information on my own sister.

Bryn hadn’t been the same since waking up in the hospital after her forced ash overdose, and I was getting increasingly concerned.

“Here’s a ten.”

He licked his cracked lips and reached out, carefully pinching the corner of the bill. Once he had it, it went to his large nose, where he drew in a breath so deep that it sucked the ten against his nostrils. “It’s old.” He folded the bill and shoved it into his pocket.

“The new ones are for serious info. All I want to know is if she comes and goes and how often.”

“The Hodgepodge woman comes out once a day to take pizza delivery or delivery from Abracas.” He motioned to the popular restaurant and pub across the street. “No more, no less.”

Damn it. “Thanks.” I paused and turned back to the goblin. “What’s your name?”

His eyes went narrow, assessing, deciding if there was worth, a monetary future, in telling me. “Otto.”

I nodded and then walked past the shop’s main entrance, past the display window and a span of brick wall to the door that led to Bryn’s apartment over the shop. I had a key, but I didn’t use it. Juvenile, maybe, but I wanted my sister to get up, to show some fire, some interest in life. I pressed her buzzer and held it for a count of five. I was about to press it again when her voice came over the intercom.

“What?”

“It’s Charlie; let me up.”

“Use your key.”

“Just buzz me in.”

Silence. And then, “I’m busy …”

“What, taking the day off? If you don’t let me—”

The door buzzed. I growled, jerked it open, and then jogged up the steps. As I reached the small landing, she opened the door.

“Damn it, Bryn …” She was pale. Hair in unwashed tangles. Wearing boxers and an old Georgia Tech T-shirt. Dark smudges cradled her eyes. She looked … muted. Grayed out. My chest hurt.

A spark of annoyance lit her eyes, but she stepped aside, letting me into the gloomy apartment, the only light coming from the spastic blue glow of the television set.

Immediately I began opening the blinds for some street light as she plopped on the sofa and watched me with indifference before grabbing the remote and flicking through stations. Once the blinds were open, I grabbed a towel from the bathroom, dried my hair, washed my neck the best I could, and then replaced my shirt—since the collar was damp and reeked of hellhound breath—with one of Bryn’s clean, dry ones.

Her fridge held nothing but condiments and spoiled leftovers and a few bottled waters. I grabbed one, noticing the trash was overflowing with takeout boxes. Gizmo had curled his cat-sized body into an open pizza box on the floor and was snoring away.

I went into the living area and handed her the water.

Bryn opened the cap and took an angry drink, before leaning back into the cushions and drawing her feet up under her. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to shake her, to yell because the change in her was so extreme and I had no idea how to help her. I wanted my sister back, the vibrant, auburn-haired, freckle-nosed earth mage who walked around in flowing skirts and tinkling ankle bracelets.

“Please make an appointment to see someone.”

She laughed. “Who would you like me to see, Charlie? I don’t think there’s a shrink who deals with forced drug addiction.”

“So?” I sat on the arm of the love seat. “The point is to talk. You used to love to talk. All the time. About anything.”

A snort came from her pale lips, and she scratched her dirty scalp. “Yeah well, that was before I became hooked on ash.”

“Will you stop it?” I jumped to my feet. “Just stop it. You’re on ash because if you don’t keep taking it in regulated doses, you’ll drop into a coma and die. Just like Amanda and everyone else who survived using the drug in the first place.” I paused, trying to sound calm. “A few of them have formed a support group. Why don’t you go? Talk. There’s a meeting tomorrow. I can take you.” I sat back down on the arm of the loveseat. “Doctor Mott is going to figure out a cure, but letting yourself shrivel away like this”—I slid from the arm into the seat—“it’s not you.”

My head fell back and I shut my eyelids tightly against the rising tears, repeating that last sentence over again in my head.

I hated this.

The frustration made me throw up my hands and give her a defeated look. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry that it was because of me and Emma—”

“Oh my God. Enough with the guilt routine, Charlie. If you say you’re sorry one more time, I might actually vomit.” She got up and walked behind the couch, her hands braced on the back. “I knew the risks. I love Emma. I love you. It was my choice to go to that bath house that night, my choice to fight, and I’d do it all over again. Just … let me deal with this on my own, okay?” Her eyes drifted closed for a moment. Her shoulders lifted and fell tiredly. “I’m tired. Can’t you just come back later or some-thing?”

I stared at the wall for a long second. “Sure.” I shook my head, feeling exhausted myself. “I’ll bring some groceries in the morning. Before I take you to the meeting.”

“Whatever you want.” She shuffled into her dark bedroom and closed the door.

I left Bryn’s apartment, keeping my head down and my gaze averted as I passed the goblin, letting my steps carry me toward the plaza on autopilot, too overwhelmed with worry and frustration to notice much around me, just knowing I had to fix things.

The despondent aura surrounding her was eating away at her light, her spirit, at everything that had made her Bryn. My sister. The earth mage. The independent business owner. The much-loved aunt.

I didn’t go back into the office. Instead, I got my Tahoe from the back lot of the station and drove down I-85 to the outskirts of the city, to the grounds of Mott Tech.

The guards at the gatehouse waved me in now that I had a full-clearance badge.

The complex was Titus Mott’s baby—the underground research facility that allowed him to work on all of his off-world and human inventions. After he and his team had discovered the alternate dimensions of Elysia and Charbydon, he’d acquired the massive funding needed to create his scientific empire. But I didn’t plan on seeing