The Darkest Edge of Dawn

I could take the heat. Toast, my ass.

My bungalow in Candler Park sat in its fading patch of green like a little piece of heaven in the darkness. Warm light glowed from the front windows, and my expensive down comforter called to me, lured me like Hank never could or would, making me yawn three times as I let Brim out of the back of the Tahoe and then shuffled up the walk.

During the short drive, soreness had crept along my limbs and turned them stiff as boards. Everything, from walking and lifting my arm to turn the doorknob, to the excruciating task of removing my weapons harness, was an exercise in grin-and-bear-it. I had to drop the harness and my weapons in a heap inside the closet because my arm wouldn’t lift high enough to slip the leather over the peg. And I was too exhausted to care.

The stairs beckoned, but I stopped by the guest bedroom and pushed open the door. Rex lay on his stomach, wearing the same clothes I’d seen him in last and snoring softly. Apparently he hadn’t been lying. Whatever Tennin had done to him to make him remember his past had taken its toll.

I stood there and stared, just thinking and reliving everything that had happened between us. Will and me. Rex and me. Rex and Tennin. With a quiet sigh, I pulled the door closed and went slowly upstairs, saving our issues for tomorrow—they sure as hell would still be there in the morning.

Emma wasn’t back yet from sleeping over at the Motts’, and though I couldn’t wait to throw my arms around my kid and hug her tight, I was glad for the alone time, the silence, and the privacy to strip off my clothes and crawl into bed. My shower worked just fine. Door was still missing, window still boarded up, but the floor had been swept, and the plumbing still worked. But I was too damned tired to care about being clean. I’d have to clean later. The sheets. The pillowcase. My skin. Yes, I thought as my head sank into the soft pillow, later.

When I finally roused, I wasn’t sure if it was night or the next day. I knew I needed to roll over to see the clock on the bedside table, but as long as I stayed completely still nothing hurt except my arm. I stayed like that for a few minutes before realizing I needed a shower in the worst possible way.

Time to move.

I drew in a deep breath and rolled, wincing and hissing with each flex of muscle and each press of my body into the mattress.

By the time I was sitting, my legs hanging over the mattress, I was breathing hard and sweating. It was ten A.M. the following day. I’d slept for nearly twenty-four hours. I pulled my injured arm close to my stomach. It was hot to the touch and the patterns were still there, still blue, still looking like a combination of ancient script and molecular drawings.

“Shower,” I mumbled in a hoarse voice, easing my weight onto both feet. “Shower first.”

It was one of the best showers of my life. Waking up. Getting clean. I could even move my arm a little. I put way too much shampoo in my hair because I’d forgotten again that I now sported a “cute” chin-length bob. But as soon as I heard the first thump, my stomach dropped and I froze.

A few more thuds and bangs, each accompanied by a soft curse, made me slowly pull back the shower curtain and peek out.

“Does anyone in this house understand the whole shower/privacy thing?” I asked.

Rex held a brand-new door, hinges already attached to the side. He gave me a droll smile and muttered a reply, though the four screws clasped between his lips kind of prevented me from understanding him. I shot him a wide smile. “What was that?”

He rolled his eyes, shook his head, and then lined up the door to the frame. He looked great in one of Will’s soft, baby-blue T-shirts, khakis, and a tool belt strapped around his waist. The shirt color accentuated the stormy blue of his eyes, and his skin looked rich and tan, his hair still kissed by the sun despite the fact that there hadn’t been any sun for over two months now.

He matched up the hinges to the depression in the frame where the others had been and then pulled the drill from the tool belt as I let the shower curtain fall back and resumed my shower.

My strength returned as I finished drying off to a newly closed-in bathroom. My stomach growled as I dressed in lounge pants and a T-shirt and then made my way downstairs to raid the fridge.

Talk on the living room television made me pause on the last step. Speculation about yesterday’s early morning light show atop Helios Tower, the mysterious collapse of the arboretum dome, and the amazing display of nature as the darkness parted to reveal the dawn of the winter solstice.

Nothing about First Ones or the Sons of Dawn.

I let out a breath of relief and kept moving toward my destination. Rex came through the back door, tool belt gone, and washed his hands in the sink. “Didn’t have a chance to shop, but there’s cereal and one everything bagel left. Emma’s out back with Brim.”

“Thanks.” I made a bowl of Lucky Charms and sat down, watching him tool around the kitchen before he finally turned and faced me.

“Before you start in on me,” he said, “I want you to know that … I need some time to figure all this out.” He dragged a hand through his hair and let out a deep sigh. “It’s getting crowded in here. Feel like I’m three different people.”

“Sucks,” I said quietly. “Rex, I need to know you didn’t make a deal with Tennin that puts my family in jeopardy.”

“The deal is over and done, Charlie. Me taking that potion, or whatever the hell it was, in exchange for the collection debt being paid.” At my disbelief, he said, “He wanted me to remember. Apparently, to Tennin, that was worth twenty grand.” He slid into a chair. “Let’s just get through Christmas and then we’ll talk more. There’s a lot I have to tell you.” He paused, letting the weight of his next words settle into his tone. “I know how to fix things. I know how to fix everything.”

My spoon paused in midair. I held his gaze for a long moment. “Okay.”

He blinked. “That’s it? Just okay? No shoving a Nitro-gun in my face and demanding I leave Will immediately and tell all about my jinn past?”

I gave a light shrug. “We shouldn’t rush things. We’ll need to be certain whatever you’re thinking of will work. And besides, you’ll probably need to find a new host body first, right? Unless, you’re changing your mind …”

“No. Not changing my mind. I want Em to have her father back.”

Relief flowed through me. I tipped the cereal bowl and drank the milk. “Good. I’m going into the backyard to play toss-the-bowling-ball with Em and Brim.” I set the bowl in the sink and then headed for the back door. “Oh, and thanks for fixing the bathroom.”

He looked at me like I’d lost it. “I like the hair, by the way.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

That evening, I sat on my kid’s bed and told her the entire story of what really happened on the tower— everything except the fact that a First One was lying beneath Clara Meer Lake. She laughed. She gasped. She cried. She hugged Brim and begged me to take her to the Grove so she could see Pen, the Druid King, transform into a dragon—which I considered doing just for the fact that shifting for the amusement of a child would really annoy him.

We talked for hours.

And then something extraordinary happened. She started talking to me, telling me about her feelings, her thoughts, her hopes and dreams, things she’d kept from me or didn’t think I’d want to hear.

I listened.

And it made all the difference, sharing with my kid.

She’d begun a journal the day Brim came home, which she called Hellhounds Rule, Parents Drool. She’d been writing in it ever since. After showing it to me and letting me flip through a few pages, I realized my kid had a knack for the written word, a beautiful way of expressing herself and looking at the world.

Amazed by her and the individual she was becoming, I kissed her, leaving her lying on her bed with the journal open, Brim curled up on the rug.

I went downstairs to the sounds of Rex cooking dinner, and out onto the porch, making my way barefoot into the cold, dry grass in the front yard. I shoved my hands into my pants pockets and stared at the thick, churning darkness overhead, knowing that somewhere beyond was a sky filled with the last light of day, a beautiful