The Hour of Dust and Ashes

distraction, but one that made her musical note fade as she fanned out all five fingers in admiration. “Gods, I adore this shade. How can you not love a color called ‘Spanked Bottom’? You tell me.” She flashed her nails at me. “Pretty accurate, no?”

My brow lifted. “I wouldn’t know, Sandra … can we cut the BS for once? I’ve spent the last few days tracking down every exorcist in this city. I have no one left to tell me. Is my sister possessed or not?”

“I see only what the leaves tell me. They tell me nothing about spirits lurking in her belfry.”

“Of course not.” Alessandra could try the patience of a saint, but I swear she only did this roundabout cryptic shit to me. “And the exorcists leaving the city? I suppose that’s just a coincidence.”

“Well, they’re not stupid. They know when the danger is too great to stay. And who said they left willingly … or even alive?”

The fact that all the exorcists in the city had suddenly /a>vanished didn’t bode well for Bryn. And there was no doubt in my mind the danger Alessandra spoke of was most likely attributed to one person: jinn tribal chief, organized crime boss, and Sons of Dawn cult member Grigori Tennin. He was the only one with a direct link to the off-world drug ash, the cult, and my sister’s possible possession.

“Why do you even question her possession?” Alessandra asked me. “Wishful thinking, no? And here I thought you were a lifelong pessimist.”

“I have to question it. Not a single mage in the League, not even the Elders, can sense another presence in her.”

“Yet, only a week ago she killed the warlock mage, the one she loves.”

“Llyran killed Aaron. Bryn just …”

“Helped him.”

My heart sank. It was true. And even though we’d brought Aaron—my friend, my teacher, the man my sister loved—back from the dead, Bryn didn’t remember the part she played. And the only thing I knew for sure was that Bryn was there with Aaron, his blood on her hands, when he died.

The Sons of Dawn cult had developed ash to suppress human will. Ash made humans pawns. The cult needed pawns to further their agenda, needed vessels in which to place the spirits of their dead priests. Just waiting for a new body, a new life to fuck up … And now all the exorcists were gone.

“Well, I think we both agree she wasn’t in her right mind,” Alessandra said. “If she is under their control, she’s in an excellent position to help the cult recover what they lost during your fight atop Helios Tower. Surely you have considered this.”

“Of course I have—that’s why I’m here. I need solid proof before I go pulling a spirit from her without being certain there’s one to pull.”

“Otherwise you’d take hers, and that would leave her quite dead, wouldn’t it?”

I rubbed a hand down my face, letting out a tired breath. White tendrils of smoke drifted my way again, and my head was starting to pound. “C’mon, Sandra, you’ve got to give me something. Anything. Please.”

She regarded me for a long, thoughtful moment. “There is another in the city,” she said slowly. “Drawn by the darkness, can see inside and do many things …”

Relief swept through me. “Great. Who?”

“The sylph.”

I blinked, questioning with a look.

“Creatures of mist, smoke, earth …” She leaned precariously to one side and then swayed to the other, eyelids fluttering. “Left Elysia … branched off … evolved into shifters of a different kind.” Her voice went deeper, breathier. “Been here, part of Earth, tied to Earth so long. Yes, yes. A different kind altogether.”

I was only familiar with one kind of being that could alter its shape at will without the use of crafting— nymphs. The nature-loving beings from Elysia, and the inspiration for mch of Celtic mythology (along with the darkling and sidhé fae), were born with the ability to shift into an animal form. But a creature that shifted into mist? “Never heard of them.”

“And why would you? They prefer to stay hidden, unknown. Why should they reveal themselves when Elysia and Charbydon were discovered? The sylphs were already here, long before the nymphs and fae even. They did not see the need to enlighten mankind.” Her voice dropped to a mutter. “And they’re not the only ones …”

That was comforting. “Where do I find the sylph?”

She waved an impatient hand, glancing at the entrance to the club. “Here and there. Above. Below. I’m an oracle, Charlie Madigan. The oracle. Not a map. I do not keep track.” She paused, eyeing me with open calculation. “I can, however, get you an introduction. You want one?”

Alessandra being helpful was a recipe for some kind of disaster. Nothing was cut and dry when it came to her information or her idea of help, but … “An introduction would be great, thanks.”

“Mmm,” she said, nodding and closing her eyes for a few seconds. “No need to thank me. You’ll be charged extra.”

Figures. My bank account was about to take a major hit.

“And where’s your partner tonight?” she asked. “As I recall, last time he was here with you, Tuni broke his nose.” She cast an admiring glance at the rogue jinn warrior standing off to the side of the stage.

Tuni stood with both feet apart, large arms crossed over his chest, his gray skin a near match for the darkness behind him. Only the light reflecting off his violet irises, smooth bald head, and ear piercings saved Alessandra’s Goliath of a guard from blending completely into the shadows. I knew for a fact that the guy had a fist the size of a grapefruit. A grapefruit made of steel as Hank told it.

The last time we were here, inquiring about the new off-world drug, ash, Tuni had indeed broken my partner’s nose. A minor scuffle. My fault, really. Hank’s face just happened to be in the way when I opened my big mouth and insulted the oracle.

I sighed, wondering where the hell she was going with this, but knowing it was part of her game, her ritual. Her boredom. “I don’t keep tabs on my partner, Sandra.”

“Mmm. Maybe you should. Now that he has full use of his siren abilities once more, I wonder how many potential mates will be crawling out of the woodwork. New Year’s Eve is coming. Time for kisses. I’ll be kissed. Will you?”

“You’re the oracle. You tell me.”

A genuine laugh breezed through her painted lips. “I think I’ll keep that one to myself, Charlie.” She leaned forward with a conspiring gleam in her eyes. “You want me to tell you what your siren will be doing tonight?”

My teeth ground together. He’s not my siren. “I’ll pass.” Because I knew exactly what my partner was doing tonight. Sleeping. Just like he’d done yesterday and the day before and the day before that.

When Hank had usehis siren voice to issue a massive power word atop Helios Tower, it ended the battle between us and the war-obsessed cult Sons of Dawn. But there was a consequence for that kind of energy drain.

He’d held it together after the battle—long enough for us to find a hiding place for the cult’s most prized possession and to check on Aaron—but as soon as Hank had walked away from me at the station, he’d gone straight home, crawled into bed, and sunk into a near comatose state.

That was a week ago. He’d missed Christmas. And he might even miss New Year’s if he didn’t wake up soon.

“So certain you know, eh?” A smug grin crawled across the oracle’s face. “You of all people should know you can never truly know another. Trust. Faith. They are only hopes, not absolutes. Never absolutes. Thin hopes, at best, to ease the mind and heart.”

Me of all people. Nice. Hit me where it hurts, Sandra.

I gave her the most annoyed expression in my arsenal even though she spoke the truth. My ex-husband Will and I had been together for eleven years. I would’ve sat across from the devil himself and bet my life on Will’s faithfulness and honesty. And the devil would’ve collected my soul, leaving me completely blindsided. Alessandra was right. You can never truly know another or what they’re capable of. Will and his secret life of black crafting had taught me that. It was a lesson I’d never forget.