Charlie Madigan: Shadows Before The Sun Part 21

Sachath will only attack one of my kind, unless it is provoked, then it will defend itself. But it is not programmed to seek out and kill others. Just us. That is all I know . . .

"Thank you," I said, hand flat on the sarcophagus.

That incredible being I'd just seen fighting her heart out was lying beneath the lid. I shook my head. It wasn't right. Ahkneri was good, not some evil being cast to Earth like in our biblical stories.

I have accepted my lot. You are . . . like us, but . . . different. You wear your weapon on the inside. You are the weapon. But you will still become Death should you strike the blow that ends the current Sachath. Even now, your power calls to it. You grow stronger every day. Soon it will hunt; your power will be a beacon, a lure it cannot resist. If you run now . . .

I can't run. I had a life. A family. A child. I couldn't leave her. Just the thought of it was like a kick in the gut. Leaving Emma and running was no different than if I died trying to defeat Sachath. Either way I was out of her life for good. Because I sure as h.e.l.l wasn't going to uproot her and drag her all over the world while Mommy slept in a f.u.c.king stone coffin.

I, too, had a child, a family . . .

Well, it's not right. It's not fair, I told Ahkneri sadly. I have to face it, or sooner or later I'm dead anyway. And I'd do it on my terms, and hopefully with a little help from my friends.

The emotion I got from the ancient being was patient understanding. No doubt, she'd felt the same as I did at one time. She'd been there, tried that, and look where she ended up.

I straightened, not allowing myself to think like I was defeated before the battle had even begun. If Sandra thought there was a way, then I had to think the same.

And one thing I knew for sure-the oracle was never wrong.

I sat at Pen's kitchen table, nursing my beer as he grabbed his second one from the fridge and bit off the cap. He spit the cap into the nearby trash can, parked his hip on the edge of the counter, and then took a long, deep swig. Since he was no stranger to the truth about the First Ones, I confided in him about Sachath, the details of my vision, and Alessandra's prophecy. He might have embraced some of our modern ways, but Pen was old. Rumor was he'd once been wors.h.i.+pped as a Celtic G.o.d. He was a Druid, too. And he was intimately acquainted with the arcane and with Nwyvre.

"Nwyvre is a primal power source," he said, picking up where our conversation left off. "The Creator didn't create Earth, or Elysia and Charbydon for that matter. They were already there; they exist outside of divine influence. The Creator simply made the First Ones and then seeded the worlds with their offspring. The Adonai, the n.o.bles, and humans all descended from the Creator's divine children, but the rest of us, we rose directly from our home; we evolved on our own, albeit much later. Interesting thing," he said, eyes going narrow and thoughtful, "you have the power of all three n.o.ble races within you, which makes you divine, but . . ."

"Yeah?" I prompted when he fell into silence.

Pen smiled wryly and pulled out a chair, flipped it around, and sat down. "Well, think of it this way . . . Even the n.o.ble races have evolved since they were first given life. They've acclimated and changed. The Adonai, for instance, they learned to utilize the power of Elysia with utter precision, they wield it, heal from it, draw it into themselves . . . You don't think that has changed them over the course of millennia? It has. You weren't given the genes of those early ones who seeded the worlds; you were given the genes from those who had evolved over thousands and thousands of years."

"True," I said. "It makes sense, but how is that going to help me?"

Pen shrugged. "Not only are you divine, but you have ties to each world. You don't rely solely on divine power. You've used Charbydon and Elysian power in the past, yes?"

I nodded.

He took another drink. "Sachath's power is divine. The Creator is also a primal power. How do you fight primal power?"

"With another primal power," I answered. "We fight Sachath with Elysian or Charbydon. Or both."

Pen smiled. "Or we hit him with all three."

I knew there was a reason I liked the Druid. A very tiny spark of hope lit in my mind.

"I can pull insane amounts of Nwyvre through the henge, so I've got Earth covered. You come with Elysian and Charbydon power and we strike it with all we got . . ." He shrugged and drank. "Then we might have a shot."

"That's drawing the creature right into your territory, using the henge," I pointed out.

"If it only attacks other races when provoked, I don't see a problem. I'll make sure my Kinfolk won't attack. The bigger problem is getting a primal energy source, raw, arcane stuff, from both Elysia and Charbydon. Good luck with that."

"Thanks." I stood up and set my half empty beer on the counter before turning toward Pen and giving him a long, curious look. "Why would you help me? There's nothing in it for you."

He went still as he studied me and the hairs on the back of my neck lifted. Then the sensation was gone as quickly as it came. "If Sachath is gone, Ahkneri will be safe."

Oh, I had a feeling I knew where he was going with this. Not good. Not good at all. "She can never rise, Pen. You know that. No one even knows how to awaken her, except maybe a Disciple. And the tablet about them was destroyed by the Circe. And even if she could rise, her existence would start a three-world war. You can't seriously be thinking this."

He drained the last of the beer, watching me as the liquid slid down his throat. He set the bottle on the table. "She rises. We reveal the sarcophagus. Let the jinn, the Sons of Dawn, and any other cult out there see that it was empty all along, then she can live in peace. That's all she ever wanted, Charlie."

"And her weapon? Her power. You can't hide that."

"Sure I can. I'm the Druid King." A small smile played on his lips. "Tell me you don't want to see her free, too."

"Of course I do," I answered immediately. "Christ, Pen . . . Let's just take this one step at a time, okay? We get rid of Sachath and then we'll work out a plan. But we have to agree, have to cover all our bases, before we even seriously consider what you're thinking."

"Done."

That was too easy. "I want a geis. Your vow."

His expression went shrewd and that eerie color washed over his irises again. His chair screeched along the floor as he unfolded himself. He held out his left hand, palm up. "Place your palm flat over mine."

Having never actually demanded a binding vow like this, I was a little hesitant as I stepped forward and placed my palm over Pen's. A tingling energy wrapped around my hand and the winding tattoo that covered his left side moved, or at the very least shuddered, awakened . . . Along his wrist and hand, a shadow of it climbed over my skin like vines, threading together and making a knot over our hands. A bond. As it did this, Pen vowed that Ahkneri would not be awakened until we agreed upon terms.

And then he dropped his hand and it was done.

I rubbed my hand. "So what happens if you break the vow?"

"I can't even if I wanted to. I won't be able to move beyond an intention to break the vow, so it's a moot point." I slid my hand into my jacket. It felt p.r.i.c.kly, like it had fallen asleep. "The henge is yours. You let me know when you figure things out."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. You'll be taking over Killian's case, now that you're back, I presume?" It was phrased as a question, but sounded more like a demand, a very subtle one, but still.

"Yeah, let me get Death off my back, and I'm all yours." Pen's eyebrow arched, a raven's wing that didn't seem to appreciate my sarcasm at all. "I'll get an update from Ashton and Liz, look over the labs and paperwork. I'll let you know the status as soon as I can."

19.

I returned home with pizza and breadsticks, helped Emma with her vocabulary, and then settled in for the night. I'd never made it to the station, but I planned on being there first thing in the morning.

My dreams that night were a rehas.h.i.+ng of Ahkneri's battle, Alessandra's eerie head spouting off prophecies, and random bits of me and Hank, his torture, and the fight against the Circe.

By the time I woke, I felt like I'd relived a couple lifetimes in just a few hours. I took a cool shower to wake me up, ate breakfast with Emma and Rex, and then dropped Em off at the League of Mages school before continuing to the station.

"Well done, Madigan." The chief clapped me on the shoulder as I entered our work s.p.a.ce. He must've decided that wasn't enough because he pulled me into a bear hug. "Well done." He set me back, the look in his eyes warm and fatherly. Then he winked at me and went right back to work mode. "You're going to have one h.e.l.l of a report to file, so better hop to it. And don't forget to file a report on the oracle as well. Sian will send a copy over to the folks in Ithonia. Glad to have you back."

"Has Hank been in yet?"

"He's over in legal giving a statement." The chief grabbed a file off his desk. "I'll be back after noon. Ashton's in the process of following up a lead, but he's got until the end of the week to get his reports and notes together on the Grove case, then it's back over to you and Hank."

"I'm sure he loved hearing that."

The chief gave a merciless shrug. "He knew all along he was just filling in. Good to have you back, Madigan."

"Thanks, Chief."

The chief barreled out of the office. Sian finished making coffee in the small kitchenette, and offered me a cup. "You should've seen his face when he found out you and Hank had come through the gate. He had to sit down, on the floor. I swear I thought he was going to have a heart attack. Teary-eyed and everything." She handed me a bag of bagels. "For you."

"Thanks, Sian. And thanks for . . . before . . ." When she'd tried to comfort me as Hank's supposed execution dropped me to my knees.

"No problem. I got you a copy of the latest report from Liz. That hair you found by the lake came back as sidhe fae. I'm still searching the histories for that 'old school' group that showed up in the oracle's club. Might be the same guys . . . I mean, pretty coincidental, right?"

I sat down at my desk. "Could be." Probably was. This wasn't going to be a cut-and-dry case, and I had a feeling Killian's murder was just the beginning. As soon as I took care of my literal shadow of death, I'd be able to put my full attention to solving Killian's murder. For now I was content to let Ashton finish up with his lead. I didn't like him or his tactics, but he was a good investigator. "We'll see. Keep searching. Try searching the word Disciple and see if anything comes up, will you? And run the name Leander through the database. Let me know if you get a hit."

"Sure. That all?"

"No," I said, chewing my bottom lip. "Can you get a courier up here? I need to send a message to the mages' headquarters in Ithonia."

"I'll call downstairs and see if one's available now."

"Thanks." Edainnue Light.w.a.ter was an Elder in Ithonia's League of Mages. And I had her marker. If there was anyone who might know how to defeat Sachath, it was her. And Leander. Leander knew way more than he let on . . .

After working all morning, I broke for lunch and headed into Underground to eat with my sister Bryn. We chose Abracus since it was right across the street from her shop. Using the same details as I'd given Emma and Rex, I filled her in on the happenings in Fiallan, leaving out Panope's "gift" to Hank and me, which I knew she'd love to hear all about, but I just didn't want to talk about it; it was too new and tenuous at this point, and honestly a little unreal.

Bryn made up for my surprising lack of appet.i.te, eating her burger and fries, and then picking at mine. "I take it things are better," I said.

"As in?" she asked, mouth full.

"As in your health and relations.h.i.+p with Aaron."

She grunted and swallowed a drink of sweet tea. Emma and Bryn looked so much alike it was scary. Big brown eyes and wavy brown hair-though Bryn's coloring on both was lighter than Em's. They had the same full lips, slightly upturned noses, and that impish quality to their look. "Ash is still kicking my a.s.s. But I'm managing. As for the warlock . . ." She rolled her eyes and snagged another fry. "Irritating. You'd think a guy like that with a couple hundred years of mage training and scholarly pursuits wouldn't be so . . . pigheaded and alpha all the time, you know?"

I laughed. "Shouldn't surprise you." With all the scholarly pursuits, Aaron was still a warlock-a warrior cla.s.s of mage.

"It doesn't. It's just annoying. After everything, now he wants to take things slow when before he wouldn't leave me alone. And now, suddenly, I'm the one who wants everything right now and he doesn't."

"I think he's just worried about you. You've been through a lot. So has he."

"I know. But"-she pointed a fry at me-"what better reason to grasp love by the horns while you can, before something comes along and s.n.a.t.c.hes it away from you?"

She did have a point and as she went on about her complex relations.h.i.+p with Aaron, I smiled. I hadn't seen Bryn this animated since before her exposure to ash. She still had shadows beneath her eyes, still had gray threaded through her aura, and I knew she suffered, but even with all that she seemed more like the little sister I knew and loved.

I'd held that stone tablet in my hands, the very thing that could've freed her from addiction, and then watched it shatter along with Ephyra. Gone.

But the cure still existed . . .

And if Leander had it, then I sure as h.e.l.l was going to find a way to get it. Tablet or not.

After lunch, I walked back toward the plaza where Mercy Street joined with Helios Alley and Solomon Street. The scene-people shopping, goblins pus.h.i.+ng their sale carts, patrons sipping coffee at the outdoor tables in front of the imp's bakery, the sound of the fountain and the traffic echoing from the city above-it was comforting. It was what I knew, what I loved, and I hoped to G.o.d my inter-dimensional travel days were over.

I hadn't told Bryn about Sachath. Doing so would involve her in knowledge that was far too dangerous to have. And while I'd turned a corner when it came to including those I loved in details of my life, this wasn't something I would or could share. Pen, Hank, and I had made a promise when we hid Ahkneri in the lake. No one would know. No one.

For Bryn or Rex or Emma, even the chief and the ITF, to know that a First One existed, that a divine weapon existed, was knowledge that'd get them killed, used, targeted . . . And I couldn't reveal details about Sachath without getting too close to the truth.

As I came to a stop in the middle of the plaza, I felt Hank before I saw him.

I turned slowly and watched the main stairs that led from Topside Atlanta down into Underground. First his combat boots stepped casually down the steps, then tan cargo pants, standard issue equipment belt with hip weapon, black tee . . .

His eyes were on me the second they came into view and it felt like the crowded plaza vanished. Wavy blond hair, sardonic tilt to his mouth, five o'clock shadow. I knew what those arms felt like, how the skin tasted, knew how it felt to suck on that slowly curving lower lip.

Partner. He was my partner. As in work. As in: how the h.e.l.l was I supposed to separate the work from the relations.h.i.+p?

I let out a shaky breath as he strode toward me, all large and male and greedily taking up all the oxygen and s.p.a.ce in the plaza. "Charlie," he said, purposefully making his voice lower and deeper than it already was.

"Hank," I countered, narrowing my eyes, but not being able to keep from smiling. d.a.m.n him.

"So, listen . . . I know it'll be tough, but try to keep your dirty thoughts to a minimum. Once we clock out, we'll go back to my place, and you can have your wicked, wanton way with me. Sound good?"

He was enjoying this way too much. But then, I guess, so was I. He waited a beat, and when no response came out of my idiot grinning mouth, he leaned in, kissed me, and walked around me, saying, "Awesome. It's a date."

Nice, Charlie. I rolled my eyes at myself, spun on my heel, and fell in step beside him. On one hand, I was glad he was trying to fall back into his old routine-the easygoing, likeable, flirtatious guy. On the other, I wondered how he really was and how he was dealing with the wounds on his mind and soul. I knew what it was like. To forge ahead, to pretend something didn't happen or just deal with it in the quiet of your own s.p.a.ce, in your own time.

We entered Helios Alley-or as I often called it Elysian Territory-and headed down the middle of the street, avoiding the busier sidewalks. "How did it go at legal?"

"The usual barrage of boring, repet.i.tive questions. The Feds are sending a group to Fiallan to help with the fallout. The king has abdicated the throne . . ." He slid a glance my way. "I hear the delegates told you I was executed."

"Yeah." Not a pleasant memory.

He b.u.mped me with his shoulder. "Thanks for not believing them."

I b.u.mped him back. "You're welcome."

Helios Alley dead-ended into the underground lobby of Helios Tower. After a quick walk through the tunnel, we emerged into the s.p.a.cious lobby complete with restaurant and bar/lounge. We bypa.s.sed the receptionist's desk and took the elevator.

"This is giving me flashbacks," Hank muttered.

"Tell me about it. At least we're only going to the fourth floor this time." Instead of the rooftop, or the forty-sixth floor from whence we took our tumble . . . I shuddered with the memory.

The lower floors of the tower were devoted to businesses. The address that had been on Leander's card had said 4th Floor, Suite 107. No name. Nothing else but a phone number. The plaque indicating Suite 107 was also otherwise blank.

I opened the door to find a typical waiting room and a desk behind which sat a thin middle-aged woman whose fingers tapped efficiently on a keyboard. She stopped typing, looked up, but didn't say a word in greeting. How lovely.

"We're here to see Leander," I said.