The Darkest Edge of Dawn

Titus. Not tonight. I’d been coming here on and off since I’d brought darkness to the city, not even sure why I chose this place of all places to come.

The cool night air made me pull my jacket closer around me as I got out of my vehicle and headed across the parking lot, grateful that the inside lining was dry and warm. My footsteps shuffled over the flagstone pathway that led through the manicured grounds to the romantic Victorian-style pavilion perched on the edge of a calm lake.

The breeze was heavy down here, like always. I rounded the grassy edge of the water, coming to the idyllic bridge that spanned the small creek that fed the lake and led to the pavilion. A bench had been placed near the bridge and I sat in my usual spot, on the right side, facing the circular meadow where I’d first called the darkness. Where I’d fed on Mynogan’s blood, the blood of an Abaddon elder, killing him.

The center of it all.

I didn’t know why I kept coming here, envisioning the past, replaying that night over and over in my head, and taking out Grigori Tennin’s card from my inside jacket pocket. I like what you’ve done with the place, it said.

The small card had come with the flowers he’d sent via florist to the hospital just as I was leaving. The flowers were long gone, but the card I’d kept. It was wrinkled and bent now, but it reminded me of my place in this game. Grigori had had a hand in bringing darkness to the city; I just didn’t know the part he played. His card reminded me to be vigilant, to always watch my back because he wasn’t through with me. And I sure as hell wasn’t through with him.

I stared at the meadow, my gaze not really focusing on any one thing as I flipped the card slowly through my fingers, thinking about the victims in the warehouse. All Elysian. There’d be no one who would benefit more from a war than the jinn tribal boss. The entire tribe would be eager to fight and get back to their warlike ways. And while the jinn and other Charbydons would be battling the rest of us, Grigori would, no doubt, benefit from the distraction. Law enforcement would be completely overwhelmed, leaving Grigori to expand his many illegal endeavors.

That was worst case scenario. And Pendaran would play right into Grigori’s hands, starting a battle with the jinn over Daya.

A green flash snaked through the darkness above, lighting the meadow for a moment in a soft green glow.

I tapped the edge of the card against my cheek, opening my mind, letting in all the possibilities, all the paths this case might take, and where they might have originated. My thoughts turned to Llyran, the Adonai serial killer, a Level Ten felon who had escaped Titus Mott’s lab around the time I’d brought darkness to the city. Llyran had disappeared. No word. No sightings. He could be back in Elysia by now or right in my backyard, laying low.

Or—goose bumps sprouted along my arms—he could be killing his own kind. I hugged myself against the sudden chill. An Adonai killing his own kind? His own race? Seemed shocking, but why not? Humans had been killing humans since the dawn of time. The question was: did he have a motive? Or was he simply killing for the love of it, for a reason only understandable to the serial killer mind?

Pendaran’s ultimatum of one week—one week to find Daya’s killer before he confronted the jinn—grated on every last nerve. One week to find a serial killer powerful enough to kill not one, but seven of the most powerful beings in the city.

Hardheaded dragon bastard.

It was either lock the Druid King up and prevent him from waging war—which was guaranteed to cause serious injury to all parties involved—or find the killer. Or, I thought, biting the inside of my cheek, find something or some way to convince Dragon Boy to back off and let us do our job.

I slipped the card into my pocket and slouched further down the bench, bracing my boots in the grass.

A chuckle stuck in my throat as the realization of why I kept coming here, given the circumstances, dawned on me. This was the only place where I could just sit and not be bothered or worry about anyone else. This was the only place where I felt like I belonged, because, really, who else would belong at such a place except me?

This was the site where the warring genes in my body converged, melded, came together in one cohesive, perfect moment. Did I know that for certain? No. But it had felt like it. Thinking back on it, I was pretty certain Mynogan’s ritual was what gave me that sense of oneness. I’d heard the drumbeats in my mind and body. I’d been thrown back to a time so ancient it felt like the beginning of time itself, and in that moment I was whole, not fractured like I’d felt before or after.

So, yeah, I thought, looking up at the darkness moving slowly overhead, this was my place, my … creation.

I was an hour and a half late for dinner, but I came home decompressed and back on track. And after I ate and showered, I planned to log on to the ITF database and pull Llyran’s file. My footsteps echoed on the porch steps of my Candler Park bungalow, my stomach taking note of the warm spices leaking from the open window. The tap, tap, tap of claws on wood sounded beyond the door as I reached for the knob, preparing myself for yet another odd night at the Madigan home.

Brimstone greeted me from a distance, in the center of the hallway. His hairless gray body was still as his red eyes assessed me. His ears were up this time, instead of pinned back against his thick skull like usual, but his throat rumbled with uncertainty as he held his ground.

He shouldn’t be in the house. But then again, if Rex hadn’t routinely gone against my rules and let him inside to begin with, his scent wouldn’t have been on me earlier when the pregnant hellhound attacked, and I’d be just another body in the debris pile.

I sighed, ignoring the beast and removing my jacket, which desperately needed a trip to the cleaners after today, placing it, along with my weapons harness, on the rack inside the closet door. Brim sniffed the air behind me, no doubt scenting the female despite my dragon bath at the Grove and changing my shirt at Bryn’s. The smell was in my hair, on my jeans, probably on my boots.

“Brim! Come!” Will’s voice called from the kitchen, followed by a quick whistle.

The beast’s massive head turned for a quick second, and I could see his indecision. I pointed down the hall and took a step forward. “Go. Go on.”

He didn’t move. Another slow growl issued from his throat and he leaned back, bracing himself, his giant front paws spreading as they slid forward on the hardwood floor. The dark gray skin blended into the dimness of the hall, making his red eyes stand out.

“Move it,” I ordered, deeper, snapping my fingers and continuing forward. He turned tail and loped his tiger- sized body toward the light of the kitchen. “I’m going to turn him into a doggie popsicle if he doesn’t cut it out,” I said loudly, approaching the kitchen.

Rex stood at the sink, wiping his hand on a dish towel. He wore my ex-husband’s old State T-shirt. Loose jeans hung low on his hips, and his feet were bare. A defeated sense of loneliness and sorrow spread across my chest and squeezed.

It was hell sometimes—those first glances after a long day or after getting up in the morning. Seeing the body of my ex-husband walking around, his expressions, his smiles, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the deep southern drawl in his voice when he spoke …

There were moments, brief flashes, where I’d forget that a Revenant, a spirit entity, was in control, and I’d just see Will Garrity there—tall, athletic, and always with the smile that could melt snow.

Those moments hurt the most, and I tried not to let it show—how much I missed the real Will, and how much his decision to barter his body and soul to Rex, whatever the reason, had hurt. No matter what, no matter if we found a way to bring Will back, I knew now that it would never work, me and him. This final betrayal had broken the thin link between us.

“Hey, Charlie.” Rex turned around, bracing both hands on the sink ledge behind him.

“Brim is supposed to be in the kennel.” I snagged a water from the fridge and cracked it open, giving myself a moment to regroup before I turned back around. “That was the deal. I pay six hundred dollars for a reinforced mini version of Alcatraz, and you keep him in the kennel. Do you remember that at all?”

Brim had parked himself at Rex’s side, his jaw resting easily on the granite countertop as Rex patted his bald head. Was I the only one who got grossed out by the slobber trail on the countertops?

“Well, that was just in the beginning, Charlie. It’s cruel and unusual punishment to keep him back there all by himself when we’re in here. He wants to be with us. We’re his pack.”

I leaned against the edge of the kitchen table, the rim of the water bottle paused at my lips. “His pack? That