the Darkest Edge Of Dawn (2010) (7 page)

The second he was gone, I whirled on Hank, trying to keep my voice to a low, infuriated whisper instead of the scream that pushed at my throat. "What the hell was that?! I have a job to do, same as you--" I stopped and closed my eyes. Showing any kind of weakness, especially feminine weakness, would completely diminish me in the eyes of the Druid, and Hank
knew
that.

I opened my eyes to see my partner's lips pressed tightly together, and something like regret passed so quickly through his dark expression that I wondered if I had imagined it. A hard, unreadable mask slid over his features. The only sign that he felt anything at all was the repeated flex of his jaw.

I couldn't read his face, but I sure as hell could read his aura, and the tense energy coming off of him was unmistakable. But whatever was going on with him, or had prompted him to act like a first-rate asshole, was no excuse to say what he had.

"If you
ever
put me down or diminish my abilities again when we're working," I hissed, "I swear to God I'll lay you flat on the floor right then and there, or die trying."

His only response was a curt nod.

I gave him another astounded look, shaking my head, because as bad as Hank got sometimes, he'd never done anything like this before. Ever.

I didn't have time to speculate more because Pendaran returned, barefoot, but dressed in black drawstring pants and a white T-shirt. And yeah, I wasn't going to lie--him being dressed was going to make this a hell of a lot easier.

He went behind the granite countertop in the kitchen area, opened the fridge, and grabbed a beer, sticking the end in his mouth, biting off the cap, and then spitting the cap into the trash can. After a long drink, he set it on the counter, one hand wrapped around the bottom of the bottle and the other flat on the countertop.

"I see it hasn't taken you long to acclimate," Hank noted.

He pierced us with a hard stare, black eyebrows furrowing together, and ignored Hank's comment. "Daya is dead." Another drink. "How?"

"That's what we're trying to find out, Pendaran," I said. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Most call me
sire.
" A flash of arrogance tilted the corners of his mouth. "Last time I saw Daya was yesterday morning in the temple."

I kept quiet, letting Hank take the next round. "She work in the city?"

"At the Fernbank Museum, yes. Daya restores art." I saw it the moment he realized he'd spoken in the present tense, as though she was still alive. His jaw clenched and he took another swig. "Daya just received her Magnus level in crafting. She was three hundred and eighty-nine years old, never mated, has one sibling, and no children. Anything else?"

"Was she in a relationship?" Hank asked. "Have any friends outside of the Kinfolk that she hung out with?"

Pendaran shook his head, straightened, and leaned back against the counter behind him. "No."

Completely absolute. His response was like saying grass is green, so sure he was in his knowledge. But then, he wasn't the Druid King for nothing. Nymphs in general didn't exactly make a big attempt to foster any ties outside of the Kinfolk, and they rarely mated outside of their own race. Their pack-like mentality meant that whatever happened within their circle, Pendaran would know about, even something as mundane as who liked who.

Fine. Moving along. "And the sibling?"

"A brother. Orin. He moved here from Elysia last year."

"Did she keep an apartment in the city?" Hank asked. The only thing we had to go on was the apartment from Daya's final memories. I wanted to cross my fingers that he'd say yes.

Pendaran let out a snort. After another swig, he tossed the empty bottle in the trash can. "Kinfolk do not live outside of the Grove unless they're loners. She lived here like everyone else." His eyes narrowed on us for a hard, calculating second. "How did she die?"

My thoughts went back to the dragon screaming at the sky. The last thing I wanted was to have him go all medieval and scaly again. "We're not sure yet."

"Murder?"

"It's too early to say, but we'd like to take a look at her apartment."

One corner of his mouth dipped down. He knew I was bullshitting him. But he let it slide and pushed away from the counter and marched to the door. "Come."

We followed him from the private apartment to the main hall surrounding a large open-air courtyard with trees, gardens, and a fountain in the center where several nymphs were gathered. Heads bowed in respect as he strode by and stepped onto a raised area topped with a vine-covered pergola and fire basins on each side. Within the pergola there were chaise lounges and chairs but he remained standing, a commanding presence over the courtyard.

All eyes fixed on their king. No one spoke. The sound of the fountain became extremely loud, and the faint sounds of traffic invaded the courtyard.

Hank and I waited.

"Daya is dead," he announced without preamble.

Horrified gasps lifted in unison. Immediately a male nymph shot to his feet, his face draining of color. "No."

I focused on him, taking in his body language and aura. "Did you know her well?"

The nymph flicked a questioning glance at his king, waiting for the slight nod of approval before answering. "She ... was my sister." His voice broke, but his chin lifted a notch. "My twin."

My entire brow rose, and my gaze went to Pendaran. Orin's sister was dead and
this
is how he tells the poor guy? Guess leadership and empathy didn't go hand in hand here in nymph territory.

"Orin," I began, allowing the sympathy I felt into my tone. I'd had a twin. I knew what it was like to lose your other half. I'd never get over Connor's death. Never. And I knew that, after the shock wore off, Orin was in for a lifetime of grieving where Daya was concerned.

Hank took over when I failed to expand on the sentence I'd started. "Did your sister have a second place outside of the Grove or maybe a friend she stayed with sometimes?"

Orin's glassy gaze went from me to the ground where he stared intently at the grass cradling his bare feet. A tear slid down and hung off his chin before he sniffed and swiped it with the back of his hand. "No." His answer was barely audible.

"Was she seeing anyone?" Hank asked.

Orin's eyes closed slowly. His face went a shade paler. The air in the courtyard flared from grief to fear, and panic. Underlying it all, I detected a faint wisp of aura gathering. It pricked the hairs on the back of my neck. I glanced around and my gaze found Pendaran. His nostrils flared slightly. His arms were crossed over his chest, legs braced apart. "Answer the question," he said.

What seemed like a simple command came across as a power-laced demand that echoed soft and deadly through the courtyard.

Orin dropped to his knees, head bowed so low his forehead touched the grass, trembling like a leaf in a windstorm. "Yes, Sire, she was involved with someone. I'm sorry. She asked me to keep her secret, and I did. I'm so sorry."

The guy's anxiety didn't sit well with me. I'd learned a lot about the nymphs and their culture through the years, but being ruled through fear was not one of them. I shifted my attention back to the Druid. "Is having friends outside the Kinfolk a crime?"

"No." His gaze leveled at me. "Cavorting outside of the Grove is not a crime. However"--he turned back to Orin--"lying
is
. If Orin has lied or withheld knowledge of a broken law, I have no other choice but to punish him. He knows this. It has been our way since before you humans started drawing on cave walls with sticks."

I returned the arrogant smirk that accompanied Pendaran's words with one of my own, only making it
way
more obvious than he had. Subtle, I was not.

"If Orin is too afraid to speak," Hank said, "then it's quite possible more of your Kinfolk will die ... because whoever killed her is not going to stop."

Well, that was just great. He just told the Druid King and everyone here that Daya had been murdered. What the hell was he doing?

My heart pounded, low and deep, so deep it felt as though the entire grove pulsated. No. It wasn't me. Was it the henge? The Druid King? Feeding off one another? I didn't know. Hell, I didn't care.

Pendaran's stance remained the same, but somehow he seemed to have stilled even more, going absolutely quiet; the only movement was the shimmering wave within his irises.

Please don't shift. Please don't shift.

I didn't realize my hand rested on my weapon until my fingers flexed around the hilt. Pendaran finally pulled his ancient gaze off Hank and turned to the courtyard as a whole. "Orin will do service." His eyes found mine. "That is the best I can offer."

Great. Wonderful. The pulse in the courtyard dimmed, but not entirely. I turned my attention to the prone nymph, wanting to get this over with so we could get the hell out of there. "Orin?"

"Forgive me, my lord," he mumbled before looking up at us, his Adam's apple bobbing with a hard swallow. "Daya was sharing an apartment ... in Underground ... with someone." He paused. "A jinn."

The shockwave that swept over the courtyard left everything in its wake motionless and dead quiet, so silent that the pulse was gone and the distant sounds of the city trickled back into the bereft space. A jinn. Jesus, no wonder Orin was terrified! A nymph going outside of her own kind wasn't unheard of, but going over to a completely different world, a Charbydon? A
jinn?
Yeah. This was bad.

"Where, Orin? Where did they meet?" Hank's soothing tone invaded the space like it was the most natural thing in the world, creating a faint but calming shift in the volatile atmosphere.

"They kept an apartment somewhere near Underground. That's all I know." He sniffed. "She was a good person. If the jinn found out ... Dear Dagda, they killed her, didn't they?"

"I don't think this has anything to do with the jinn," I said. And I prayed to God it didn't. I pulled out a card with my contact info and handed it to Orin. "In case you remember anything else."

"I expect her body to be returned to us immediately," the Druid said.

I flinched inside, thinking about the hand I'd severed, though it was no worse than the rest of her. "We'll see that you have it by morning."

"You have one week," Pendaran announced. "One week to find Daya's killer."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Seven days or we seek retribution from the jinn."

A disbelieving half snort, half laugh sprang from my mouth. "Seriously? Because I didn't peg you for an idiot."

The nymphs fled the courtyard in a blur of gossamer and bare feet, disappearing into the darkness and mist, and leaving me with the sudden realization I'd said that thought out loud.

Shit.

The eerie abalone glow passed through the Druid's eyes again. I swallowed as he unfolded his arms and stepped off the dais, striding slowly forward. Toward me. My stomach dropped to the bottom of my gut. Hank cleared his throat, and I cast a quick glance to my right to see his hands clamped behind his back, and his attention on the ground in front of him, a small grin tugging the corner of his mouth.

Well, apparently my partner wasn't too worried I was about to be dragon flambe.

Pendaran stopped in front of me, forcing me to crane my neck. The guy was tall. "You seem to understand very little about the Kinfolk, Detective. And even less about etiquette ... off-world
or
human."

My lips twisted into a cynical smile, and I bit off the smart-ass reply on the edge of my tongue because, quite frankly, I couldn't argue with that assessment. I gave a quick, indifferent shrug. "That may be so. But you're well aware how tense the city is right now. If you go storming into Underground, an Elysian pointing the finger at the entire jinn tribe, that's it ... it's game over. For all of us."

He crossed his large arms over his chest, jaw set and freakish eyes turning hard like cold, polished stone. "One week."

The finality in that imperious tone made my teeth clench hard as I tried to maintain control and prevent another outburst. But, damn, how I wanted to wipe that overbearing superiority off his face. "Then we expect complete and total cooperation. That means no contact with the jinn from you or any of your Kinfolk while we investigate.
None.
"

"Done."

After Pendaran's ultimatum, Orin led us to Daya's apartment in the Grove, where we found squat. Not a single shred of evidence. With every step back toward the gate, my mood plummeted. I was still riled by Hank's comment earlier, and the Druid's unyielding manner. Then my cell rang. The number on the display only made things worse.
"What?"

"Oh, good. Listen, Charlie, I need you to pick up some toothpaste, a can of diced tomatoes, and garlic--not the powder stuff, the whole head. Oh, and can you get a few pounds of meat for Brim?"

"Rex. I am working right now."

"So? What do you think I've been doing all day? Who do you think does the laundry and the cleaning and the cooking? Revenants can't just point a finger and say 'presto' and everything is clean." A loud sigh blew through the phone speaker. "What time will you be home?"

I closed my eyes.
Deep breath, Charlie.
"I have no clue."

"Well, just an idea. So I can have dinner ready ..."

I rolled my eyes and tossed up an annoyed hand, plucking a time out of thin air. "Six forty-seven."

"Oh, funny. Ha, ha. Just make sure you stop by the store."

"Fine."

Hank was already clearing his throat before I could get my phone back on my hip. As if Rex didn't add enough disorder to my life, my partner seemed to take great pleasure in razzing me about living with a Revenant who thought he was the love child of Laurence Olivier and Julia Child, a Revenant currently occupying the body of my ex-husband. And, to top it all off, I still hadn't found the right way to tell my daughter that Daddy wasn't really Daddy anymore.

Hank's mouth opened, one syllable came out, and I said, "
Don't
talk to me."

Rex's call hadn't detracted from my absolute fury at Hank. In fact, it just added fuel to the fire. We went a few more strides and then I changed my mind. Screw this, I wanted an explanation. "You mind telling me what the hell that was back there? And for the record, I've seen
plenty
of naked men in my time, okay, and I can do my goddamn job just fine."