Charlie Madigan: Shadows Before The Sun Part 19

I slapped my hands over my face. "Oh my G.o.d."

"I was particularly fond of Move. Now and Go."

I glared over at him even though I couldn't stop grinning. "You know, I'm not even going to try to improve my s.e.x talk," I said, "because you've got the market cornered in that department." I lifted my nose in the air and said airily, "I'll just work my magic . . . elsewhere."

"Explain," he said, deadpan, and then smiled widely.

G.o.d, if he didn't stop looking like that I was going to jump him. Again.

I was . . . happy. And it was more than simply getting my universe rocked multiple times. Hank and I, we got each other. We had the same offbeat sense of humor, the same love of the good fight. I trusted him. I knew he had my back. He always had.

I tried, I really tried to lie there and not let the worries creep in, but I couldn't help wondering how things would be once we got back home. If we could be partners, friends, and lovers. If it would alter our perception and our actions at work, under fire, under pressure.

If Emma would accept this new direction in our relationship.

"We'll figure it out," Hank said, sensing my shift in mood. "Whatever comes, we'll deal with it. As fast or slow as you want to take it, Charlie. I'm not going anywhere."

I sat up. "I'm sorry I left you at the station." I'd hated that moment, and I had to say that, to get it off my chest. When I'd had to choose between running after Bryn and fighting against the sirens who had come to take Hank back to Fiallan. I wanted him to know it hadn't been an easy decision.

He sat up, swung his legs over the lounge until our knees were touching. "I seem to recall telling you to go."

I frowned. "Yeah, but . . . still. It wasn't easy and you're my partner, leaving you was . . ."

"The right call." He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "But I'm glad it matters. And I'm sorry for hurting you."

"I know what they did to you, Hank. I saw it. I knew about the NecroNaMoria before Ephyra mentioned it." I regarded him for a long time, studying his face, his expression, trying to see for myself that he was truly healed. "Is it gone, the spell? Did it end when she died?"

He toyed with my hand. "It's over." He smiled and shrugged, then plowed his fingers through his hair, releasing a deep sigh. "The Circe are gone, that's all that matters. They made me crazy for a while, f.u.c.ked with my head, but I know what they did and I'll get over it." Which was putting it mildly, but I decided to leave it alone.

And what else could he do? I'd been through horrors I'd never forget, ones that still lingered in my psyche. Putting one foot in front of the other, as cliche as it sounded, was what had gotten me through. People who were there for me, who never pushed me to heal, but gave me time and let me know they were there, they cared.

I'd be that person for Hank and I wouldn't push.

He stood up and held out his hand. "Come on."

I slid my hand into his and together we walked toward the pool, where Hank retrieved his clothes and dressed. Just dropped towel and bared a.s.s. Nothing to be shy about, I thought, smiling.

He sat to pull on his boots, regarding my gown. "You're keeping the gown." He glanced up, eyes sweeping the room, raising his voice. "And the jewels."

"Are you telling me this or Panope?"

"Both." Done with his shoes, he stood, then reached behind the bench and lifted a sack.

I went still. "Please don't tell me that's Sandra."

"Okay. It's not Sandra."

"Hank!"

"Well, what did you expect me to do with her? Set her on the table? She's a head, Charlie. A talking head." A wave of weariness. .h.i.t me and I sat down in a slump as Hank regarded me for a long moment. "What the h.e.l.l was she doing in Fiallan?"

"She showed up at the terminal. She . . . helped me. Said that this was her path, that her fate was tied to ours." I thought of our time in Fiallan, before things went wrong, and felt the rise of grief again. My fingers twisted the gown. "I actually liked her. Can you believe that? She was a good person, Hank. Really good and . . ." I couldn't finish, couldn't go down that road, so I drew in a deep breath and went another way, one less painful. "She made me promise to bring her home, said Tuni would know what to do. Thank you," I said, "for going back for her."

After twisting the fabric some more, I continued. "The worst part about it is that she knew. She knew what would happen to her and still she went." I wasn't sure I'd ever totally understand why or get over the look on her face the last time I saw her alive.

Hank held out his hand, his voice gentle and understanding. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go home."

I let him pull me up. And just like that, I was gone, weightless. One second physical, the next, nothing but energy particles. Then I was whole again, my weight settling hard down into me.

17.

We stood on the cliffs of Fiallan, facing the sea.

Far across the bay, the tower was gone, large blocks of it scattered or submerged into the sea below along with a good portion of the cliff itself.

Behind us was the left cliff tower, which still stood, its top blazing with the setting sun's light. If I had to guess by the amount of activity going on across the bay, only an hour or two had pa.s.sed since the collapse.

The waves rolled in and out. The wind whipped at our clothes and hair, bringing with it the salty, wet air.

"Did you bring us here or did Panope?"

"The G.o.ddess," he answered, staring at the destruction. "I have yet to master that power."

I squeezed his hand. "You okay?" This was his home, his people, his history . . .

He gave a faint shrug, his profile unreadable as he continued to gaze at the city.

"How could the Circe have trapped a deity?" I asked at length.

"Panope gave them her power to help create the grid. It was supposed to be temporary, drawing on her powers and the Malakim to make the walls impenetrable. The Circe must've devised a way to keep Panope there. They saw an opportunity and took it. Panope waited, all this time, for someone to come along."

"Someone like you." I smiled and wiggled my eyebrows at him.

He snorted. "Yeah, who knew . . .? Come on, we need to find a mage to get us out of here."

We left the cliffs behind and walked a winding path through the inner city, to the main gate. A few curious looks were thrown our way, my gown and jewels drawing the eye, but attention was focused on the chaos of the three towers falling, the recovery effort, the wounded . . .

"Why do you think she waited so long, though?" I said as we went. "I mean, every year during the rites, sirens walk through her waters. Why didn't she say anything?"

"Maybe she did. I don't know. Maybe she knew that if she did communicate, the Circe would immediately silence the person and the G.o.ddess from speaking again. Maybe she was waiting for the right moment, an enemy of the Circe. Who knows?"

Once we were in the outer city, Hank arranged for a mage to take us back to Ithonia. He bent down and unclasped one of the ankle bracelets and handed it to the mage, whose eyes turned to saucers. "Will this do?"

The mage stammered and managed a nod.

Hank turned to me. "He'll take you first, straight to the terminal in Ithonia, then he'll come back for me."

Part of me wanted to tell him to go first. I'd left him behind once, and didn't want to do it again. But I knew he'd brook no argument, so I nodded. The mage pocketed the anklet, took my elbow, and we were off.

I arrived at the terminal and waited for Hank to join me. He appeared in short order and then we headed toward the gate. Unfortunately, the gate agent from before wasn't there as I was hoping.

With no ID or papers, we had to be fingerprinted, run through the system, and then had to wait for temporary pa.s.ses before being allowed through the gate and into the sphere. We also nearly came to blows with several gate officials about the head in the bag.

We spent three hours sitting in a windowless room, getting the basic interrogation tactics. Amateurs. I told it like it was. Sandra had given specific instructions to her guard in the event of her death. An agent had gone through the gate into Atlanta, contacted Tuni, her jinn bodyguard, and had returned with him to confirm the oracle's last will and wishes.

A jinn's presence in Ithonia, even at the gate, was a memorable event. Tuni was huge, with smooth gray skin, bald head, pierced ears, and a bolt through one eyebrow. His eyes were violet and intense, and he strode from the gate like some demon lord who had every right to be there.

He pretty much stopped everyone in their tracks.

I stood from the long bench against the wall near the gate agent's desk. I had no idea what kind of relationship Alessandra had with Tuni, but I did know he was her number one, and he took his job seriously. My anxiety rose the closer he got. I waited for his eyes to glow violet, but he strode by me without a glance and followed the agent into a room.

There was silence over the entire terminal as everyone in the know waited for the explosion, for Tuni to flip out when they gave him Sandra's head. But the only sound was the click of the door as it opened.

Tuni strode out with the sack. This time he stopped in front of me. His eyes swept over my gown and his brow lifted a fraction. He reached to his back pocket, pulled out a letter, and handed it to me. "She wanted you to have this."

I took the letter. "Tuni . . . I'm sorry . . ."

"Don't be. She knew what she was doing."

With that, he gave a curt nod to Hank and continued on. The entire terminal didn't release their collective breath until Tuni disappeared into the sphere.

Since Hank and I were both in the system with federal law enforcement status, and our story checked out-as much as it could be checked-we were eventually given clearance to leave.

From Hartsfield-Jackson, it was a taxi ride into the city, Sandra's letter still clutched tightly in my hand. Hank was quiet for most of the ride, staring out the window at the dark landscape of steel and concrete and lights. Coming back to Atlanta felt surreal after where I'd been, what I'd seen, the things I'd done . . .

"How did you know about the NecroNaMoria?" Hank asked quietly.

I started at the beginning and told him about walking through the city, trying to use my mark to get a lead on his location, finding his home, and my altercation with Leander. "He seemed to know a lot about you. Do you know him?"

Hank shook his head. "Is he siren?"

"Might be. It was hard to tell. He's old and powerful, and he knows a lot about First Ones." I explained our fight and how Leander had called back my power before it escaped enough to draw Sachath, how he knew about First Ones and their Disciples. And the tablet. The f.u.c.king tablet. "And with it, went my chances of getting the cure for ash." Which, after everything, was a hard pill to swallow. I stared out the window for a long moment. "Leander knew about your family, the history, everything. Was he right about all that? About what the Circe did to them?"

Pain flashed through his eyes, pain and deep, deep guilt. I knew what he was thinking. If he'd never left the grid they'd all be alive. I thought about fate, and was on the verge of telling him that maybe he was meant to leave Fiallan, to become a different person, one worthy-because of what happened-to be given the Source Words.

"I'm sorry," I said. "About your family."

He was staring out the window again, his only response a curt nod. Hank had taken his revenge, and he'd blazed one h.e.l.l of a b.l.o.o.d.y path to do it. I would've done the same. The Circe got off easy, all the lives they'd taken over the years, an entire family wiped out . . .

The taxi pulled up to the curb on Alabama Street to let Hank off. "Make the meeting with Leander, Charlie. I want to know what he knows. Sachath is still out there. Neither one of us will be able to rest until that thing is dead. If we take the offensive and face it on our terms . . ."

Which was better than having an accidental power surge, or drawing it here in the heat of battle, or simply becoming divine enough until it sensed me all the time, in which case, I'd be on the run for eternity.

Sachath could be killed or Sandra wouldn't have given me the prophecy. I-we-just had to put the pieces together to figure it out.

"I'll call you when I have a time and place."

Hank opened the door and got out, leaving me feeling a bit dumbfounded. He handed the driver a card, which was scanned through the machine in order to pay the fare, then gave him the address to my house.

I sat there, wondering if that was it. Now that we were back home, things had suddenly turned weird and awkward. I'm not sure what I expected, but even a See ya later, thanks for the out-of-this-world s.e.x and trying to save my a.s.s would've been better than . . . nothing.

I was so deep in thought that I didn't see Hank come around the front of the car and open my door. I nearly fell out of the car. He righted me and leaned in quickly, kissed my lips, withdrew just enough to look into my eyes, and said, "Put the jewels and the gown in a safe place. We'll be needing them later." He winked, shut my door and then banged on the top.

Before I had a chance to gather my wits and respond, the taxi was already pulling away from the curb.

The ride pa.s.sed in a blur.

I used the spare key to let myself in the house. Emma was in school and my Tahoe was gone, which meant Rex had gone somewhere.

I set the letter on the bedside table, hung up the gown, hid the jewels in an empty shoe box in the closet, and then took a long shower. After rummaging for leftovers and filling my belly, I crawled into my bed and went to sleep.

Emma's sweet voice saying h.e.l.lo and her soft kiss on my cheek made me smile, but I didn't open my eyes right away. I'd slept d.a.m.ned good for once, thanks in part to Panope healing my wounds. I'd vaguely acknowledged Emma and Rex coming home, heard the back door slam and the usual sounds of people in the house, but then must've drifted off again.

"I bet if you pinched her nose and covered her mouth, she'd wake up."

Rex.

"She's already awake, Rex." Emma's weight settled on my bed as I opened my eyes and stretched.

I pushed up to a sitting position and then froze, eyes widening in disbelief. "Rex!" He had pulled the chair from the small writing desk next to my bed, had his feet propped on the mattress, and was reading Sandra's letter.

I leaned forward and swiped at it, but he was too fast, moving it over his head and out of reach. "That is mine. Give it back before I hurt you."

One eyebrow lifted, then he handed it over. I s.n.a.t.c.hed it and folded it back up, promising revenge with my look.

"So . . . what happened?" Emma asked. "Where's Hank?"

I proceeded to give the short, PG-13 version of what had gone down in Fiallan, then turned my attention to my daughter, intending on asking her about her week and school-the usual. "Are you wearing eyeliner?"

She sat back, tucking her foot beneath her thigh. "No." A beat pa.s.sed. "Okay, yes, but just a little bit. You can barely tell."

"You let her go to school like this?"

Rex rolled his eyes, huffed, and then studied Em's face, shaking his head. "I don't see anything."

Emma, of course, grabbed on to that. "There. See, Mom. You can barely notice."

"No makeup," I told her, then glared at Rex. "How many fingers am I theoretically holding up?" I asked, meaning the middle finger.