The Hour of Dust and Ashes

And territorial, I added to the list of strange attributes.

What didn’t make sense, though, was the fact that these elusive beings had been in hiding for thousands of years, keeping themselves from the eyes of the world so well that they remained a question of uncertainty. And they chose now to reveal themselves, and to me? “So you’re here in Atlanta because …?”

A sniff and a few droplets of water trickled out of her delicate nose. Her pointed chin rose a fraction. “The portend. The darkness”—she lifted her hand to the sky and I noticed rivulets of water running down her arm; the water at her feet was trailing up, encircling her like vines, moving in thin streams around her limbs—“is a prophecy of the Ceallachan. Our wise ones. You will be granted our aid, Charlie Madigan. You must accept each gift we give.”

My muscles had gone so tight, they ached. My heart pounded hard. Gifts. No problem. Who didn’t like gifts, right? “Uh, thank you,” I said, unsure of what to do next.

“You may remove your clothing if you wish.”

I did a mental double take, floundering for a second. I might be about to get anointed and wet somehow, but I’d do it with my clothes on, thank you very much.

I removed my jacket, weapons, and cell phone, setting them in a pile on an even spot of ground away from the water’s edge. Boots came off, then socks, before I walked back over the cool grass toward the sylph.

I rubbed my hands down my arms and drew in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

“Accept the gift,” she told me in earnest. “You must accept it.”

“Right. Accept the gift. Got it. Now what?”

The water around Nivian’s ankles rose. Her pale arms lifted straight out. Her head tipped back slightly and a very small smile turned up one corner of her bluish lips. Higher the water rose, yet it didn’t spill onto the embankment as it should’ve done. The way she commanded it, it was like she was a tiny, creepy version of Moses parting the Red Sea.

And then she stared straight at me with those watery eyes. “Accept the gift.”

I had time to gasp once as she swirled, completely dissolving into water as it reared up and engulfed me. A great wave grabbed me off the ground and pulled me far out into the lake.

There was no time to prepare, no time to catch another breath. No time for anything as I was dragged under by the ankles.

Panic, stark and black, filled me. Water shot up my nose. My hands went to my face, but it was too late. Water slid down my throat. The urge to cough, to gasp for breath, burned a straining, searing path to my lungs.

A raw scream exploded in my head and I flailed for the surface somewhere high above me, struggling for air. For life.

Dear God!

Pressure built in my chest, my throat, my face. Can’t … hold it … in.

“B. &e, Charlie Madigan, breathe,” Nivian’s strange voice came from all directions.

I can’t! I screamed in my mind.

“Accept the gift.”

I held on until it felt as though my face would explode from the pressure, my eyes squeezed tightly together in an effort to keep out the water. White dots appeared behind my eyelids. My fingernails finally punctured the rough skin of my palms.

Burning. God. Help. Me.

I gulped.

The pain that hit me was unlike anything I’d experienced before. Nothing happened. No air. Oh God. Choking. Another gulp and another. Like a fish on dry land. That primal, involuntary need to breathe, and yet I was suffocating. Water filled my lungs, the pressure so acute that every muscle in my body tensed into steel. Frozen, molded, in certain death.

I’d stopped moving. Black fuzz ringed my consciousness as I floated like a frozen statue in deep, cold, silent water.

“Accept the gift.”

One more gulp. Pathetic. That final gasp.

The pain in my chest began to subside, and it was in that irrevocable moment that I thought about using my power. Hank and I had practiced manipulating water. And yet everything had happened so suddenly, taking me completely by surprise, that all my faculties were still left standing on dry ground.

Then I was jerked as though a small kid had reached down and grabbed a sinking plastic doll by the calf.

I had no sense of time.

One minute I was a floating Barbie doll and the next I was on the embankment, curled on my side as water ran out of my mouth and nose and ears as though it left me of its own free will.

It crowded my desperate airway, shoving its way out and making me feel bloated and suffocated all over again.

Once the water ebbed and air had room to make its way, I gulped and gasped, loud and noisy, as my fingers dug into the soft soil for purchase. I vomited, an action so violent that my bladder released. Warm liquid spread between my thighs as bile filled my mouth and soaked the ground, mixing with the scent of lake water and urine.

The shaking started then, fierce and uncontrollable, as my head fell onto the ground, turning slightly to avoid a face-plant.

Nivian stood in the water, at the very edge, watching me. Anger flared, stinging my eyes with wet tears. “Your next gifts will come within three days’ time.” She tossed my cell phone onto the ground in front of me in clear distaste. “It … shrilled. Someone spoke. He is coming to pick you up.” A surprised look must have crossed my face because she said, “We are not oblivious, Charlie Madigan. We have watched the rise and fall of civilizations, watched as the population encroaches farther and farther into our territory, taking from it, killing it, killing the earth.” An unnerving grin crawled over her strange elfin face. “You will all destroy yourselves and then we shall begin to heal this place and it will be ours once again.” And with that, her ankles went watery and she dropped into the lake, disappearing and leaving me on the side of the embankmt alone, cold, shaking, and nearly dead.

God, let it be the chief who called. Please, not Rex. Because Rex would have Emma with him and the last thing I wanted was for my kid to see me like this.

I curled into a tight ball, shivering and too exhausted to heal myself. Just a moment of rest …

The shutting of a car door woke me.

Through the cottony fog in my brain, I heard footsteps on gravel and the gentle lap of the water nearby. My own heat or spent tears, I wasn’t sure, had made my eyes dry. I blinked several times, and tried to swallow, but stopped cold and moaned in pain. My sense of smell kicked in and my sore stomach rolled. My weight had made a nice little impression in the grass, where a wet stinking puddle formed beneath me.

Nice.

The faint vibrations of footsteps reached me. And fuck if my mark wasn’t tingling. I groaned inwardly in utter disbelief.

The grass dipped behind me. I stayed curled on my side. A finger removed a wet strand of hair plastered across my face. A deep sigh wafted through the air, whispering, What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?

“Are you going to look at me, Charlie?”

Warmth burst in my belly at the sound of his deep, potent voice. The gentle zing of pleasure it brought me told me just how much I’d missed that sound in the last week. A siren’s voice was their power. Their lure.

And Hank’s voice washed through me like a shot of the smoothest whiskey.

I didn’t want to look at him. I knew what I’d see—an insanely beautiful male, a being brimming with strength, masculinity, and carnal innuendo all wrapped in a package that grinned like the devil and spoke like an angel. While I was the total opposite, a dark, wet mess lying in a stinking puddle.

Was I going to look at him? Hell no.

I moved my arm over my head to hide my profile, curling tighter and shrinking away. Weakness stole over