The Better Part of Darkness (3 page)

I parked the car in the fire lane off Ellis Street in front of ITF Building One, or as we referred to it: Station One. “It’s three right now. I’m gonna head over to the hospital and check on Amanda, make arrangements, and then I’ll meet you downtown at eight.”

Hank opened the door. “I’ll talk to the guys at the lab again about this eye connection. And I’ll pick you up at ten.” He lifted his hand to stop my argument. “Things don’t even start to heat up until then. You’d know that if you weren’t celibate.” He got out of the car and then leaned back through the window. “Oh, and try to take a beauty nap, and don’t look so damned professional if you can help it. Let your hair down, maybe use some of that deep red lipstick you wore on your date with Officer Wandering Eye.”

My eyes narrowed, and I opened my mouth, but he flashed me a broad grin, a wink, and then he was gone.

I supposed I deserved that.

Bryn’s place sat in the middle of a long row of shops that lined the left side of the street. There were potted plants out front, a chalkboard sign on the sidewalk advertising sales, and a few wind chimes hung from tall, ornate garden stakes shoved into the planters on either side of the door. I thought she was nuts for having a shop in Underground. But Bryn had some serious smarts when it came to business. She carried items the off-worlders craved, like crafting items, exotic herbs, minerals, rocks, and other trinkets, and she made sure to stock things humans could use as well—anything Wiccan. Books, antiques, charms, clothes … But mostly she specialized in herbs, the rarer the better.

I stepped around a three-foot-tall imp carrying a Gucci handbag and approached the back counter. Bryn had her back to me, snipping a few branches from a small potted herb as she spoke to it softly.

“Probably not a smart thing, to turn your back on the customers,” I said, looking around at the patrons. The store was packed with plants, items, baskets, and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, so many corners and dark shelves; you couldn’t see a shoplifter at work if you tried.

Bryn turned. “I have a security system.”

I frowned at her and leaned on the counter. “A
spell
is not a security system.” When would she learn to take care?

She shook her head, looking awfully like Mom when she did that. Her auburn hair had been twisted up into a sloppy arrangement, and her brown eyes held a smile as usual. “Well, I also have Gizmo.” She nodded behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to see a gargoyle, the size of a large cat, perched on top of a tall, dark bookshelf by the door. His head moved with the flow of patrons, watching them closely. “You got a gargoyle? Are you insane?” I held up my hand. “No, wait. Don’t answer that.” Gargoyles were notorious for misbehaving, like little demon monkeys, always chewing on things, jumping around, making messes. I shook my head. They were also incredibly pricey. “Where’d you get the money for him?”

She leaned over the counter, getting closer and smiling as though she’d pulled off the coup of the century. “I traded a five-pound bag of Elysian sea salt, a box of rare Tibetan incense, and that old petrified toad I had sitting on the counter.” She straightened, going on the defensive. “And he’s perfectly trained, so wipe that prune-y old look off your face. You’re gonna get two wrinkles right between your eyebrows just like Grandma Eunice.” She reached out and used the pad of her index finger to vigorously rub the spot on my forehead.

I swatted her away, stepping out of reach. “Will you cut it out? God, you’re just like Mom.” I felt the frown return and made an attempt to ease my facial muscles. The last thing I wanted was to end up looking like Grandma Eunice, God rest her soul. “Speaking of which, have you heard from Mom and Dad?”

Bryn popped a few M&M’s from a small bowl by the register into her mouth and then held up a finger. From under the counter, she pulled a postcard. “They sent you one, too. Don’t you ever check the mail?”

“Occasionally.” I took the postcard. One side was a photograph of the Giza plateau in Egypt and the other side had a few scribbled lines about how hot the desert was and how beautiful sailing down the Nile had been. Next stop: Turkey. I slid it back to her. “Any idea when they’re coming back?”

She shrugged as I stole a handful of M&M’s. “Your guess is as good as mine. Probably another few months, unless they find somewhere else they want to go.”

Mom and Dad had saved their entire adult lives for this trip. They’d moved all their furniture into storage and rented me their three-bedroom bungalow in Candler Park, which worked out well since Em and I had already been shacking up in the spare bedroom after the divorce. Plus being in midtown, it was closer to Emma’s school and not too far from downtown.
More power to them,
I thought. They deserved to travel the world for as long as they liked. I missed the hell out of them, but it helped that I had Bryn. She reminded me so much of Mom, it was scary.

Bryn was also a gifted earth mage. Even growing up she’d been able to do things—make plants grow and bloom by talking to them or touching them. After the Revelation, what we called the discovery of the new dimensions, she’d begun to take her talent more seriously, and she utilized the new resources to study and learn and cultivate her abilities. Last year, she became the first human member of the Off-World Garden Society and the Atlanta League of Mages.

A high-pitched scream exploded behind me.

Instinct sent my hand to my gun. It was already drawn and pointed in the direction of the scream before my vision landed on the source. My heart pounded as Gizmo flew off his perch and hovered in front of the imp I’d passed earlier.

“Jeez, Charlie, put the gun away, you’ll scare my customers.” Bryn pushed my gun down and hurried around the counter toward the imp. The hem of her sundress flapped behind her, making me notice her bare feet and trim ankles encased by two sparkling charm anklets.

“Me?” I holstered my weapon, trying not to dwell on how ready I’d been to pull the trigger. “That thing just blew out every eardrum from here to Solomon Street.”

I followed Bryn as she navigated the narrow paths in the store. It must be nerves, I decided. Seeing Amanda like that had me on edge. That, and I was about eight months past due for a good night’s sleep.

At the entrance, Bryn bent at the waist and held out her hand to the imp. It was female with cocoa-brown skin, large, slanted black eyes, thin lips, freckles, and a shock of orangey-red hair. The imp let out an irritable huff, dug into her Gucci purse, and then slapped a small crystal dragon into Bryn’s palm. Gizmo flew back to the bookcase and folded his gray wings behind his back.

“Nice try, Dix.” Bryn gave the imp a triumphant look. “Better luck tomorrow, eh?”

Dix shuffled from the store grumbling, but not before shooting an evil glare at Gizmo.

“You’re just going to let her go?”

“Dix is harmless. She comes in every day and tries to take something. Imps like anything glassy and shiny.” Bryn set the dragon on the shelf, went back to the counter, and then grabbed the small potted herb. “So what brings you to Hodgepodge?” She plucked a few less-than-stellar leaves without even looking, her attention totally on me.

“I need you to watch Emma tonight. I’m investigating a—”

Her eyes grew round and serious. “The Amanda Mott case, I know. It’s all over the news. People are starting to panic, Charlie. It’s hitting way too close to home now. Some are saying it’s not a drug at all, that it’s a virus or epidemic of some kind. They even splashed you and Hank on the screen.”

I swore under my breath. God, this day just kept getting better and better. “Damn it. That’s just what we need.” I scrubbed a hand down my face. “It
is
a narcotic, Bryn, we’re sure of that. But other than that … hell if I know.”

Bryn stared at me quietly for a second. “How are the nightmares?”

I loved my sister, but I really didn’t want to talk about it. Dying on the job and coming back two hours later can really mess your shit up. I shrugged. “Same old, same old. So, can you do it or not?”

“Sure. Why don’t you let her spend the night? I can take her to school in the morning before I open the shop.”

For a moment I saw worry in her look, but I ignored it. “Thanks.”

“It’s no biggie.” She walked with me to the door. “Just be careful, okay? You still have that charm I gave you?”

I lifted the long chain from around my neck, pulling the flat, circular-cut crystal etched with symbols from my cleavage. It was the size of a silver dollar and always rested warmly against my skin. I waved it at her. “See. Still here.”

“Good. Bring Em by around dinnertime.”

I gave her a quick nod. “Will do.”

Once on the sidewalk, I headed further down Mercy Street. I had one more person to see.

The farther you went down Mercy Street, the darker it seemed to get. Pubs and storefronts spilled into the street, tents and awnings extended selling space, and hawkers lurked in the shadows and called out to passersby. The off-world population was growing so fast, and nowhere was it more evident than here in Underground.

Ask anyone and they can tell you where they were and what they were doing when the news broke. Scientists had discovered (some say “stumbled upon”) two parallel planes of existence, which, according to many leaders and believers of the world’s major religions, resembled certain aspects of heaven and hell.

They’d been visiting us for thousands of years, using our world as a battleground and neutral zone, interfering in our lives, speaking our languages, doing good works and miracles, and committing horrible crimes. And now we knew the truth. Elysia and Charbydon, and the beings in them, weren’t the things of Sunday school lessons and Hallmark figurines.

And the existence of God and an afterlife was as unclear to them as it was to us.

The
friend or foe
debate continued on as usual, but no longer to the point of nuclear war. Eventually, delegations from all sides met, peace treaties were signed, and laws and policies were put into place.

We’d become the promised land for countless off-worlders, many of whom resided in several of our major cities. New York. Miami. Los Angeles. Houston. And the first off-world city, Atlanta.

“Is that the walking dead I see?” a sandpaper voice called from the shadows.

I stopped on the sidewalk as Auggie stepped from the darkness of the old maps-and-bookbinding store. “What are you doing up here?” I’d known him for so long that his slow, raspy voice, grayish-green skin, long, narrow face, and large hooked nose stopped giving me the willies years ago. “The pawnshop finally kick you off their curb?”

He shrugged, his hollowed face pinched in annoyance for a moment. “Something like that.”

“Walk with me, Auggie.” I turned and ambled down the brick pavement. He fell in step beside me. He was my height; at five-eight that was tall for a goblin. Goblin was what we called his kind here. Every being from Elysia and Charbydon had their own race-names, but their languages were so complicated and difficult to pronounce, we’d given them terms that had been around in our own language for centuries, ones that seemed to fit their appearances and powers. And to their credit, they didn’t seem to mind. Hell, most of them, after years of visiting us in secret, already knew how to speak our tongue before they’d been granted official visas, work permits, or permanent citizenship.

Like us, the Elysians and Charbydons had different races and ranks among them—some more powerful than others, some more kind and law-abiding than others, and some more criminal and evil than others. But they all had their weaknesses, weaknesses we, as humans, could (and had to) exploit. And I knew Auggie’s weakness all too well.

“I know why you’re here,” he grated slowly.

Thanks to the media,
I thought. “So, what can you tell me?”

His breath came fast, and his mouth parted to reveal a blunt set of yellow teeth. He wrung his slender hands together in anticipation. “What do you have for me?”

Always prepared, I handed him a crisp hundred from my back pocket.

He snatched the bill and held it to his wide nostrils, breathing in deeply. His body shuddered. “Wonderful scent, this one. Is it new?”

“Brand-new. Never been in circulation.” That always got him worked up. “So?”

He shoved the beloved bill into his pocket, stopping between two storefronts, edging back into the shadows. “Well, I can tell you this. What you’ve been seeing over the past week is only the beginning, Charlie Madigan, only the beginning.” He gave a nervous laugh.

His black pupils dilated and the dingy yellow surrounding them flashed as he glanced anywhere but at me. “And that’s about all I can tell you.” He opened his coat, hands shaking, and changed the subject. “You wanna buy a spell? For you, I give you half price.” Vials of colored liquids and powders hung from small hooks beneath his coat. “Love, sex, happiness, wealth, I got it all right here, see. How about beauty? I got that, too.” He paled. “Oh, I mean, not that you need it. Fuck. No, you don’t need it. I just meant …” Sweat beaded his thin upper lip and ran down the bony sides of his face.

“I know what you meant,” I said, stepping closer to him. “What the hell has got you spooked, Auggie? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He stepped back, his eyes bulging and the yellow flashing again as they darted around. “No, not this time. No. Sorry. No can do.”

I grabbed his wool coat by the collar. The vials clinked against each other like wind chimes in a sudden breeze. “Auggie, two people have died. There are over twenty in the hospital right now.” My voice dropped. “I have a sixteen-year-old kid lying comatose on a goddamn bathroom floor. A
kid
. You want that on your conscience? You want to obstruct the law? ’Cause I can promise you you’ll be on the next transport back to Charbydon if you don’t.”

“How about a holding cell?” He gave another nervous laugh. “Charbydon … it’s too dark there now, not even an inch of moonlight.” He gulped. “I can’t, Charlie. I can’t tell you more.”

All I could think about was Emma, the promise I had made, and Amanda, the young girl I’d come to care about. “I swear to God,” I forced out between tight lips, “don’t make me beat it out of you, Auggie.” I wasn’t serious in my threat, but the urge was there. Stronger than it had ever been before.