the Darkest Edge Of Dawn (2010) (16 page)

"Nothing's wrong with it. It's
who's
in it that's the problem."

I added sweetener to the coffee and stirred, coming back to my desk, gesturing. "Continue."

"It's nothing, Charlie." He propped one elbow on the desk and scratched his stubble. "Just a little spat, that's all."

"With Zara?"

Zara was the concierge at The Bath House on Helios Alley. She was also a knock-out siren--weren't they all?--who had as big a crush on Hank as he did on her. She was also part of the group that tried to get Emma back from Mynogan, so she was on my list of folks I'd go to bat for in a heartbeat.

Hank shrugged at my question and downed the rest of his coffee like it was the elixir of life.

"Well ...?"

"Well nothing. That's it." He rolled his wide shoulders, faced his monitor, and then started tapping the keys, completely dismissing me. I glared at him, standing at the corner of our desks, which had been pushed back to back, until he finally stopped, lifted his reluctant sapphire eyes, and frowned. "Things have cooled off a little. No big deal."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I sat on the edge of the desk, cradling my warm mug and polishing off the doughnut, licking a few sticky fingers. "So what's the problem? Maybe I can help. I'm good with relationships." A bland expression came over my partner's face, making me amend that statement. "
Other
than my own."

He leaned back in the chair, swiveling to face me fully, looking about as enthused as a kid at a financial lecture. The dark shadow of his day-old beard gave him a haunted, rugged look that I found strangely appealing. His throat worked with his swallow and a faint blush crept from beneath the white collar of his shirt. "Just drop it, Charlie. We had an argument. I left, so she wouldn't have to. End of story."

I opened my mouth, so ready to argue the point, when he stopped me. "This"--he flung a hand toward the voice-mod on his neck--"doesn't exactly help, okay?
Now
can we drop it?"

A frown screwed my face as I took a slow drink of my coffee. Surely Zara couldn't be put off by the voice-mod being stuck on his neck. It wasn't like it made him unattractive. Quite the opposite, in my opinion. The voice-mod made its wearer look like some throwback to Viking or Celtic times, when torcs hugged the thick necks of warriors and chieftains.

I slid into my chair and turned on my monitor, letting my curiosity go for now. "We need to talk to Ebelwyn, find out who owns the warehouse, and check out Daya's work--might turn up something on her relationship ... Pretty sure it wasn't a jinn that killed her," I said, my voice dropped to a mutter, "or any Charbydon for that matter."

"What makes you say that?" Hank asked as I signed into the ITF database.

"Because I think it's Llyran." He scooted around the monitor in his chair, draping his arm across the corner of my desk. "You know, escaped serial killer. Lays low for a while. Adonai start disappearing and then found murdered."

"I considered him, too. Stayed up last night reading his criminal file. The guy caused a lot of trouble in Elysia. Was officially banished from Elysia by the Adonai Council. Stole something big from the Hall of Records, wouldn't reveal its location, was slated for execution, but killed his guards and fled. That was years ago."

"What did he steal?"

"Officials never said. Then he gets here and starts killing. Indiscriminately. All races. Adonai, too. Every kill was unique. There's no pattern that I can see. It almost seems like he was practicing, trying out different techniques and methods for murdering his victims, you know? The only reason he was caught before is because he didn't try to be careful, or hide what he was doing. Didn't care. Didn't deny ..." Hank sat back in his chair. "The guy's a lunatic."

Yeah. I could definitely attest to that.

"What's the laugh for?"

"What?"

"You just gave a laugh." Hank's eyes narrowed. "A suspicious one."

He wasn't going to take this well, I knew, so I came right out with it. "Llyran broke into my house last night."

Hank shot off the chair. "He
what
?"

"Mmm." I took a sip from my mug. "Wrecked my bathroom, too. He didn't hightail it back to Elysia after all. He's been here the whole time. Said he killed our vics. He's looking for something and seems to think I know where it is."

"What is it?"

"I have no idea. I think he just wanted to show me how powerful he is, turn this into a game. Probably latched onto me when I saw him at Titus's lab the first time."

"Like he's stalking you, you mean," Hank said irritably, sitting back down.

"Could be. Who knows? The guy's a Level Ten felon. Totally unpredictable. As you said, nearly impossible to profile. There's no telling why he's doing what he's doing. He did mention a cause, though."

"You think he's our guy? That he's not just taking credit?"

I chewed thoughtfully on the inside of my cheek, rolling around a pen on my desk. "Yeah, but I can't shake the feeling that he isn't alone in this. Whatever he's doing seems grand. I don't know. You had to be there." I met my partner's sober expression. "Something is different about him, about his power," I began as evenly as I could even though my heart rate had kicked up. "He's figured out a way to control the darkness."

The color drained from Hank's face.

"He summoned it, called it into my bathroom. He could've killed me, or taken me, but he didn't ..."

A low, astonished breath hissed through Hank's lips. He rubbed a hand down his face. "And you're okay? Em's okay?"

"Everyone is fine. Brim ran him off. You know Emma can talk to him? Communicate with him?" The pride in my voice caught me off guard, especially after having been so overwhelmed by her revelation. Hank just stared at me, totally in a daze. "Yeah, I know, right? Welcome to the Madigan family, where strange is our middle name."

He snorted softly. "You gotta stop with the bombshells this early in the morning. Don't think my heart can take any more."

"Well, lucky for you, that's all I got."

He rolled his chair back in front of his monitor, but I heard his muttered reply. "Trust me, that's enough."

10

Neither one of us had luck tracking the property records for the warehouse. And according to Ebelwyn's receptionist, she didn't know who had asked him to list the property for sale or even the whereabouts of her boss--he hadn't shown up for work, and he wasn't answering calls or his front door.

Unfortunately for us, the one person who had his finger on the pulse of Underground and could probably tell us Ebelwyn's whereabouts was the person I only wanted to see again if it was through a pair of cold cell bars or down the nozzle of my Nitro-gun. Grigori Tennin.

At least it's not raining.
I tried to look at the bright side as I jogged down the concrete steps that led to the main plaza in Underground and then proceeded at a sharp clip over the old brick pavers, past the fountain, heading to the shop fronts along the head of Solomon Street. They were crowded with inventory, packed inside and out. Peddlers set up shop wherever they could find space, often in the middle of the street or lurking from the alley shadows.

Once you turned onto Solomon Street, though, the old-fashioned streetlamps became dimmer, the glass covered in soot and grime from the open-air fires and the system of underground tunnels, caves, and homes dug straight beneath the street by the jinn, who preferred living within the earth. Peddlers pushed carts full of food, stones, spells, herbs, and snacks. It was like walking through a dark, otherworldly kasbah in the heart of Cairo.

It had to be pushing ninety degrees, and the choked, crowded atmosphere only made it seem hotter. The smells here were intense, too--earthy and humid, filled with the scents of meats, body odor, smoke, and the distinct scent of tar, which signified a large jinn population.

We weaved our way down the street, aware of the violet eyes that glowed dimly from the darkness. From the moment we entered Charbydon territory, the jinn tracked our movement. They ruled Solomon Street, and I'd guess right about now, Grigori Tennin was being told of our arrival.

We'd planned on invading the Lion's Den, Grigori's headquarters at the dead end of the street, but halfway down Solomon, two jinn warriors in battle regalia--Grigori's personal female guard--stepped out from the shadows. My hand rested casually on the hilt of my weapon as we approached. The female warriors were as dangerous as the males. They were tall, muscular, with the same smooth, sooty gray skin and vicious tempers. The only difference (besides gender) was that the females had hair where the males were completely bald. And who knows, they might've been pretty, in an Amazon sort of way, if not for the scowls.

"Girls," I greeted once we were close enough to speak.

They ignored my sarcasm. "Grigori is not here," one of them said.

Hank shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced around the crowded street. "And I don't suppose you know where he is at the moment."

One of them smirked.

On any other occasion, I would've pressed the issue, but after the morning I'd had, I was a little relieved to not have to deal with Tennin. "Tell him we'll be by later." I did a one-eighty and wound my way back through a thick patch of carts and crates.

Hank caught up and grabbed my arm from behind. It was too congested to walk side by side. "What gives, Madigan?"

"Tennin's not going to give us the info we need." I sidestepped a small jinn boy racing after a stray cat with a homemade bow.

"If it benefits him in some way, he would."

"And if it doesn't--no, thank you," I told the spell-monger opening his coat to reveal vials of colored liquids, "we're out of luck. We won't find Ebelwyn or those missing property records." A space opened up, allowing Hank to fall in step next to me. "His office is up ahead." I pointed. "I say we stop in and look for some property."

"Ah," he began in understanding. "Maybe a nice villa on the coast. Always wanted to be on a cliff by the sea." I rolled my eyes and glanced over to find him grinning like an idiot. "A little siren joke for ya."

I picked up speed and darted between two large stalls selling an assortment of Charbydon fruit and vegetables, and ended up on the other side of the street. I could feel Hank right behind me. A few more dodges and, avoiding a raging fire barrel, I stepped back onto the sidewalk, went a few steps, and then immediately dodged into the alley next to Darkling Properties and Rentals. The sign said it was closed. The main room was dark, but a glance at the apartment over the shop showed a small light coming from the window. I knew that Ebelwyn lived over his shop, just like my sister and many other shop owners.

"Back escape," Hank said, heading farther down the narrow alley.

The brick walls closed in on us as we went. The smell back here was terrible, reeking of strong ammonia--urine of a gargoyle, a few stray cats, and probably a few off-world races taking leaks on the wall if I had to guess. In short, it was lovely, but it was this loveliness that kept the alleys vacant of most folks.

A one-lane street ran along the back of the shops and apartments, used for deliveries, dumpsters, and God knew what else. But by the looks of things, I'd say it was mostly landfill, dumping ground, extra storage ... I glanced up at the fire escape. "This shouldn't be too difficult," I decided as Hank reached up and grabbed the stepladder to pull it down.

I glanced down the back alley, but all I got was steam from restaurants, a lot of shadows, and noise carried in from the street. Hank and I hurried up the ladder and onto Ebelwyn's landing. The window wasn't locked and it didn't take long for us to duck into his apartment, get our bearings, and search the rooms.

The light I'd seen from the street came from a small office where a heat lamp had been placed over the aquarium of a moon snake, its bioluminescent skin emitting a soft, glowing white light. It was a small one, curled up against a rock. I leaned down and tapped the glass. The thing lifted its head and lunged at the glass so fast, I leapt back. "Jesus!"

"Cute, aren't they?" Hank came around the desk and opened one of the side drawers.

An involuntary shiver ran through me. The glowing white snake was at the glass, half its body raised, weaving back and forth, its cobra-like hood edged in a crown of sharp bony points extended in a sign of aggression. "Yeah." I moved to the other side of the desk to pull open a drawer. "Real cute."

"Not venomous, though. These look like work files. Names. Addresses."

I scanned the file tabs in the drawer on my side. "Taxes, bills, manuals ..."

"Hold up." Hank pulled a file from the drawer. "Tennin."

I came around the desk to the sound of the moon snake thumping its nose on the glass.

Weave, weave,
thump.
Weave, weave,
thump.

Goose bumps sprouted along my arms, but it wasn't the snake's neurotic thumping; I had a bad feeling as Hank laid the file on the desk and opened it. "It's Tennin's holdings. All of his properties. Christ, Charlie. He
owns
the warehouse."