“It’s a thick tome, written in the Old Tongue of Elysia. The translation progressing slower than usual. But if there’s a ritual to rid the city of darkness, I will find it.”
I inclined my head, my attention going to the lake and the faint whisper of the First One in my head. I could easily picture her in my mind, easily imagine her new resting place—in a cave at the bottom of the lake, warm and dry within her stone sarcophagus.
The reflection of downtown’s skyline and its lights twinkled and glowed on the surface of the dark water. “And our guest?” I asked Pen quietly.
When he didn’t answer right away, I withdrew my gaze from the lake and stared at him, but he wasn’t looking at me; his attention had also been pulled toward the water.
“What’s wrong?” I questioned.
“She speaks to you still?”
I gave a here-and-there shrug. “I wouldn’t exactly call it speaking. More like whispers or murmurs, most of which I can’t understand. Some dreams lately …”
He nodded thoughtfully. “It is the same for me.”
My eyes went wide. “You hear her, too?”
“I didn’t at first, but when I go beneath the water and into the cave … she whispers.”
Something about Pendaran’s expression, the way he stared so quietly out at the water, made him seem so conflicted and grim.
“The visions Charlie’s been having,” Hank said to him after giving me a quick glance, “are you having them, too?”
Pen’s black eyebrows dipped into a frown as he angled on the table and pulled up one knee. “What visions?”
“At first they seemed like dreams, recurring ones. Of landscapes, a temple, Ahkneri …” I bit the inside of my cheek, my gaze floating unfocused over the tops of the tall trees across the lake, and to the skyscrapers that ringed one side of the park like a steel mountain range. “On Helios Tower, when the lid of the sarcophagus was lifted, the power that went out … I don’t know … it’s like a warning. And I know that sounds stupid, but there’s an eye. It opens …”
All the hard angles on Pen’s face became starker. The hairs on my arms rose in response to the power that leapt in the air. A glimmer of abalone passed through his eyes, leaving behind a hard, calculating stare. “Agate masks power. Ahkneri and her weapon lie within the finest and thickest I’ve ever seen. It is not only a resting place; it is to protect them as well.”
A thought occurred, one that gave me an instant chill. I hugged myself. “What killed the First Ones?”
“The myths suggest that they decided their time had come, their purpose was at an end, and they … slept.”
“Anything in the Old Lore about that?”
“Not that I have read, but it is an ongoing examination. The Old Lore contains the only written account of the First Ones. Everything we have ever heard about them comes from this tome. But it is just a fraction of their lives. Stories. Written long after they roamed. The only one who could tell us all is Ahkneri herself.”
“What about Sachâth?” Hank asked. “Ever hear of it before?”
“It is an old Elysian term for destruction, ruin, death … From the Old Tongue as well. Why do you ask?” He looked at me. “Is this word in your vision?”
“No. I heard the word from the oracle, Alessandra. Whenever I use my power, it seems to draw this shadow being. He has no face, no physical form. His voice holds a lot of power, though, and he speaks to me, but hell if I know what he’s saying. Then he flies through me and I pass out.”
“It doesn’t attack?”
“No.”
Pendaran scratched his jaw and pushed off the table. “Odd. I will look for this in the tome as well.” He stretched his arms overhead. “You want a beer?”
A short laugh burst out. I shook my head. That was the thing with the off-worlders. Sometimes they came off as so ancient and knowledgeable, and the next they were ordering pizza and a beer. Just the way it was. “No, thanks,” I said. “Let us know if you find anything, okay?”
We turned to go, but Pen stopped me, his voice low. “Charlie. Does she seem … sadder to you? When you hear her?”
I glanced from him to the lake, surprised by the question. I hadn’t considered it before. I’d heard her cry, heard her plead, but those things I’d heard from her since the beginning. Sadder since then? “No more than usual, I think.” I cocked my head, waiting for him to say more, but he just dipped his head and strolled into the darkness.
I left the courtyard feeling no better about things or any more knowledgeable than I had before I’d gone in. Pen had the same sense of foreboding that I did.
Hank and I walked in silence back through the gate and down the sidewalk to my vehicle. “I think I’ll head back to the station and check on Bryn, see how everyone is settling in.”
“Sounds good. Liz’s autopsy reports should be in. I’ll drop by her office and see if she’s learned anything.”
It wasn’t until after we were pulling into the back lot of Station One that I remembered asking Hank if he wanted to have coffee and talk.
Crap.
I slid a quick glance his way to find him staring out the window. His expression reminded me of a conversation I had with Emma when she was six years old and I found her sitting with her knees drawn up on the back of the couch, staring out the window.
Emma’s sadness had been because her kitten Spooky was at the vet getting spayed. Of course, I told her people stare out the window for all sorts of reasons, but her comment had been so thoughtful, so perceptive, that I hadn’t forgotten it.
I couldn’t tell from looking at Hank what was going through his mind or what his emotional state was. The last thing I wanted was to tap into my power to see his aura only to have Shadow Man come pay me another visit … But my instincts were telling me he wasn’t in the mood for talking right now.
I parked the Tahoe and decided to leave the talk for another time.
After a quick pit stop in the ladies’ room, I headed into the basement level, which contained our med units, cold cells, holding areas, and the morgue.
The holding area consisted of twenty cells, ten running down each side of the hallway. They were eight- byten, the back wall made of concrete blocks painted gray, and the sides and front made from a clear plastic as hard as steel. The only privacy consisted of a half wall that hid a small toilet. Everything else could easily be viewed by the cameras mounted in each corner, the other inmates, and the guards regularly walking the hall.
Granted, these cells were for criminals, not innocent people, but right now this was the best way possible to protect the
After I showed my ID and headed down the hallway with one of the guards, nine happy faces greeted me. Most of those faces were familiar: known drug users who I’d seen on the streets in Underground or had arrested myself once or twice.
When
