The Darkest Edge of Dawn

your mom once in a while. I know some things too.”

She stood, clutching her stuffed animal and letting out a hurtful laugh. “No, you don’t! You don’t know when to trust your own daughter! Like, when were you going to tell me about Daddy, huh? I know something’s wrong with him. He’s not himself … and you know it!”

With that she flung the bunny at me and ran out of the room, slamming the door and leaving me sitting on her bed in stunned silence.

I hugged the bunny and glanced around at the room, the room of a very small girl—lilac walls, white furniture, floral quilt—but she wasn’t so little anymore. She wanted some independence, to make her own choices, and even to make this room her own by hiding what she called the “childish” wall color with posters.

My fingers curled around the bunny, digging into the soft fur.

Here I was spouting off good parenting, and I was still lying to my own kid.

All this time … there just never seemed to be a right time to tell her the truth about her dad. And then Thanksgiving had come, Christmas was approaching … There were so many reasons not to pull her world out from under her. And they were all excuses. In the end, there were no good reasons for delaying the truth.

And if her father had had an ounce of patience and a fucking spine and hadn’t sold his soul to a Revenant in the first place, we wouldn’t even be in this situation.

I wanted to choke him, to squeeze him into a little ball, to scream and cry and let it all out. But he’d taken that away from me, too. One final betrayal to mark the end of our relationship. My throat thickened and I blinked hard, blocking the tears from spilling over, and glanced down. What I saw made me throw the bunny into the air and leap off the bed with a shout.

My back hit Emma’s desk, almost knocking over her chair. The bunny landed on the bed and bounced, falling onto the carpet. What was once a stuffed animal was now a solid, fur-covered ball. Just like I’d imagined.

A hard shudder ran through me as my brain floundered to make sense of what I’d done. Same as the Abaddon chick I’d turned to ice for kidnapping my child. Hadn’t meant to, it just happened. My Charbydon powers went far beyond creating nightmares in the mind of my opponent, to being able to actually manifest those nightmares.

I hadn’t meant to. I lifted my trembling hands and stared down at my palms. What if I’d been holding my kid? My stomach knotted, and a cold sweat broke out on my skin. Dear God.

I raced from the room, down the steps, and headed outside, aiming for the track that ran around the soccer and baseball fields across the street.

Run. Just run. Don’t think, just run.

7

Forty-five minutes later, I returned to the house sweaty and spent.

Muffled voices came from the living room. A quick glance as I passed showed Emma and Rex practicing her lines for the school play. There were four lines, but Rex was determined to make Emma the best Cobweb in A Midsummer Night’s Dream that Hope Ridge School for Girls had ever seen. I left them alone, swiped a piece of garlic bread from the baking sheet atop the stove, shoved it in my mouth, jogged up the steps, and then went through the motions of stripping down while devouring the bread.

As I stepped into the shower, my stomach twisted irritably, wanting more food. From the looks of the kitchen, Rex and Emma had already eaten, but there were probably plenty of leftovers in the oven, since Rex had been making extra lately to accommodate my ravenous appetite.

I turned up the heat, letting the hot water work its magic on my muscles and stress level, and leaving myself wide open for the guilt to worm its way in. I gave Rex a lot of hell, more than he deserved. It was just hard to pull my emotions out of the equation when everything he did and said was being done by Will’s body.

I scrubbed my face with the washcloth, deciding to hurry because the heat was starting to turn my hungry stomach into a nauseated one.

I washed and conditioned my hair, rinsing and then quickly shaving my legs, spurred on by the thought of dinner. When the voice spoke beyond the curtain, it scared the shit out of me and made me jump.

“I hear you found a few bodies today, Charlie. Any leads. Any … theories?”

I stilled, the razor on my calf, the ball of my foot resting against the corner of the tub and hot water beating down on my back. Jesus Christ. I knew that voice.

A serial killer was in my bathroom.

Dear God. Emma! A jolt of adrenaline-fueled fear shot through my body. Pulse, blood pressure, muscles … Everything readied as I prepared to run for my kid and get her into her bedroom, the only room in the house with additional wards, ones made in blood—that of myself, Magnus mage, Aaron, my earth mage sister, Bryn, and two of the powerhouse Elders at the League of Mages. The amount of blood it had taken made it the equivalent of a Fort Knox panic room. It was the first thing I’d done after getting home from the hospital two months ago.

“Relax, Detective. This is just between you and me. And for the record,” Llyran said in a conversational tone steeped in haughtiness, “killing children holds little to no value. It’s a question of payoff. The effort expended is more than the return. And killing that Revenant in your living room is a waste of my time. He’ll just flit away and find someone else’s life to ruin. Might want to work on your aura, though.”

Relief flowed through my veins, so strong I nearly dropped to my knees, not caring that he had read my strong emotions; they’d been too swift for me to block anyway.

Calm down, Charlie. Focus on Em.

One of my most frequent lessons with Aaron had been learning how to forge a link with my child, a way to connect with her emotions, to feel her presence and state of mind. And after her kidnapping by Mynogan and his thugs, there was no way I ever wanted to feel that helpless again, to not know if she was okay. I wasn’t as calm or as focused as I should be, but this was one thing I’d semi-perfected. I closed my eyes and summoned the link, that joyful, unbreakable bond with my child. It wasn’t as strong as usual, but when the emotions poured in—humor, determination, nervousness—I knew she was still practicing her lines downstairs. Neither she nor Rex had any idea Llyran was here, in my bathroom.

Envisioning a slamming door, I severed the link, releasing a controlled breath and returning my attention back to Llyran. He was telling the truth about not harming my family. Was he also telling the truth about the rest of his statement, that he only killed for reason and motive? He knew about the warehouse murders. Was he the killer, an accomplice, or was he just taking credit?

“What do you want, Llyran?”

I was completely bare. No weapons. No way out. My grip on the razor tightened. His outline moved beyond the white shower curtain, pacing from one end of the floor to the other.

Llyran ignored the question as though I hadn’t uttered a word. “I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing here in your bathroom.”

“That, and how the hell you got into my house.” My mind scrambled for a plan, any plan, but I didn’t have much to work with, unless stabbing him with the blunt edge of a Wonder Smooth Vibrating Razor was a plan.

“Oh, that part was easy, Charlie. I can mask myself … make myself into an undetectable wisp of air. You can’t see me, smell me, sense me … until it’s too late.” His outline stopped at the sink, his height, slumping somewhat, giving me the impression that he was leaning back on the countertop.

“So you broke into my house just to tell me that?” I reached for the bar of soap with my other hand. If he came for me, it was going right into his eye. Might give me a chance to make it to the bedroom and the night table drawer where I kept an extra set of weapons.

Small clinks and movement echoed above the shower spray. The faint scent of my perfume reached my nose, and I knew the creepy bastard was going through my things, examining my toiletries, picking them up, setting them back down. “Nice,” he muttered. “You see, the thing is, Charlie, you and I are a lot alike. Unique. Determined. Powerful. We both kill for reasons we believe in.”

“I’m not a murdering sonofabitch.”