Charlie Madigan: Shadows Before The Sun Part 23

She chewed thoughtfully for less than ten seconds before she said, "Simple."

I smiled. "Oh, is it?"

"Yeah." She flipped her spoon until it was pointing to the ceiling. "You just take it from the darkness overhead. It's all raw energy from Charbydon anyway."

And just like that my twelve-year-old kid floored me. Floored. I dropped my spoon, clattering milk and cereal all over the table. My mouth hung open and she just looked at me, then around the room. "What?" she asked, cheeks full of cereal.

"Nothing. Nothing." I grabbed the spoon and bowl, standing up, shaking. "You're just . . . that's just . . . genius. And right. It's right."

Her mouth split into a smile, and she continued chewing cheerfully, completely in bliss at being right. After she swallowed, she said in a very aristocratic tone, "I shall mark this day down in the annals of the Madigan Family Saga. The day Emma Riley Garrity, the Genius, was right. Right, I tell you! Right, I say! Right, right, right!" She punched her spoon into the air with each word.

Rex shuffled into the kitchen, all sleepy and grumbly. "Right. Whatever. Coffee. Emma. Stop being happy. It's too early for happy."

She laughed and resumed shoveling cereal into her mouth as I stood at the sink, rinsing my bowl out, amazed and embarra.s.sed that I'd been so intent on the Charbydon races that I'd missed the obvious hovering right over my head.

And I didn't need a Charbydon to use the darkness, just like Pen didn't need to be human to draw out Earth's energy. All one needed was strength, knowledge, and a s.h.i.tload of power.

"Rex," I said, turning to eye him. "I don't suppose you know any jinn rituals for calling down or commanding the darkness, do you?"

He shut the fridge and gave me the blandest expression, like I was wasting breath even asking him such a ridiculous question. One that didn't even warrant an answer.

Well, I had to give it a shot. But I was already well on my way to solving the problem because I knew another who had manipulated the darkness. Llyran, the level-ten felon who had stolen a tome from the Adonai's Hall of Records, one that told him exactly how to command the darkness.

And guess who had that book? The Druid King.

I wiped the table, kissed Emma on the cheek. "Hurry up, we need to get going."

After dropping Emma off at school, I placed a call to Hank, filling him in on Emma's brilliance, then to Pen to let him know we were on our way.

As I parked by the curb near the 10th Street entrance of the Grove, Hank ducked out of his car and my belly went light. I ignored the feeling, turned off the engine, and got out.

Hank approached as I shoved one side of my hair behind my ear and locked my vehicle. I slipped my keys into my pocket. My mark grew warmer. The darkness overhead made me tingle. And my heart rate rose at the idea of facing Sachath again. Ugh. Talk about edgy. And it was only going to get worse.

"Morning," Hank's rich voice broke the quiet.

I drew in a deep, steadying breath and turned. "Morning." I continued, stepping past him and onto the sidewalk. "Sure you're ready for this?"

His answer was a casual shrug as he fell in step beside me. "You call Leander yet?"

I stopped. Hank walked a few more steps before turning around with an eyebrow lifted in question. "Hank, are you really sure about this? Sachath might be designed to kill First Ones, but it'll attack anything if provoked." And that meant Hank and Pen were as much a target as I'd be.

He took three long strides, coming to stand directly in front of me, so that I had to lift my chin to look him in the eye. "Were you sure when you left the city to find me?" Of course I was. I didn't even need to think about it. I nodded. "It's the same thing, Charlie. We defeated my demons, now we defeat yours." He tossed a look over his shoulder toward the gate. "Come on."

We fell in step again. Hank asked again if I'd called Leander. "Not yet. I want to make sure I can read the tome and do what Llyran did. If I can, then we're all set and should do this as soon as possible. Pen's meeting us at the henge."

Sometimes, when it was sunny beyond the darkness, a little light would filter through, leaving the daytime looking like a dark, dark thunderstorm was approaching, but this morning it must've been cloudy and overcast because it was black as night outside.

The Grove had become a creepy place since the darkness had parked itself over the city, but now-knowing what I needed to do-it looked downright scary. The ever-present flashes of green snaked through the swirling ma.s.s overhead, and the city lights beyond the park bathed Oak Hill in light.

We veered off the main path and walked up the gra.s.sy hill to an exact replica of what Stonehenge looked like when it was completed in ancient times. The monoliths were colossal and seemed to grow higher as we went up the hill; they dwarfed us and everything around us.

Pen stood in the center of the henge, the tome spread out on the altar stone in front of him. As I stepped into the circle, a slight vibration of energy went through me. I came up next to the Druid and stared down at the ancient tome, one of the histories of Elysia.

The writing on the pages was a blending of early Elysian, a bridge between the language of the First Ones and the language of the Adonai, which then evolved into the modern Elysian language used by most of the races of that world today. In other words, a b.i.t.c.h to read. There weren't many people who could.

But I tried to remain optimistic. Llyran had figured it out. And Pen had been in possession of the tome since the battle on Helios Tower. He'd been studying it, trying to decipher the language and the commands Llyran had used to control the darkness.

"Here," Pen said, pa.s.sing me an amulet. "I've been wearing this to aid in the translation. It should work for you, too. Try it."

I placed the amulet over my head, let it rest against my skin, and felt its heat snake into my body. It took a minute, but eventually, the words on the tome took shape, some of which I could understand, some of which I couldn't. "It's not working all the way."

d.a.m.n it. This had to work. Why wasn't it working?

"You read the stone tablet in Fiallan, right?" Hank reminded me. "How did you manage that, how did you understand the words?"

"I only read it; I never understood the words. I don't know . . . this is different writing, though, so maybe . . . Before I used my power. Not anything big, but just . . . engaged it, I guess you could say."

"Try using your power with the amulet," Pen said.

Hank leaned closer to me, our shoulders touching. "Just be careful. Don't draw too much. We're not ready for war just yet."

I wasn't ready for war at all.

I centered myself, drew in a deep, even breath, and closed my eyes, imagining a pinp.r.i.c.k of light appearing in my core that worked like a magnet, pulling power from my cells and creating a small well of energy swirling inside me.

Then I opened my eyes. Words reshaped themselves through my vision much quicker than I expected and I understood some of what I saw. "It's working," I whispered.

I began flipping carefully through the old pages, until I found what I was looking for and what I knew now were the same words Llyran had read to manipulate the darkness.

If only I could test it first . . .

I released the energy, careful to bank it within my core rather than let it go outside of myself where Sachath lived. "I need to call Leander." I slid a glance at the two powerful beings staring down at me from lofty heights. "Are we ready to do this?"

They both nodded.

Goose b.u.mps spread over my skin. "Sachath won't sense Ahkneri being this close?" I asked Pen.

"The agate has masked her power for thousands of years. There is a reason she chose that sarcophagus. The water adds a layer of insulation as well." He crossed his arms over his chest and parked a weighty stare on me. "So what's the plan, Detective?"

Thirty minutes and about a hundred I can't believe I'm doing this mantras later, I stood in front of Hank. Leander and Pen were over by the altar, arms folded over their chests, feet planted, eyeing each other suspiciously and curiously. They'd been at it for at least three minutes.

"All set, kiddo?" Hank asked, flicking the ends of my hair and smiling a crooked smile.

"I'm pretty f.u.c.king scared right now, Hank." A gazillion second thoughts ran through my head, along with every single thing that could go wrong. And I tried like mad not to imagine someone walking up to my front door, telling my kid I'd failed. I was gone. But the thought remained a shadow in the back of my mind.

s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t.

"It's a good plan, Charlie. The oracle is never wrong. She wouldn't have said those things if there wasn't a way to kill it. She wouldn't have written you that letter and led you down this path. We'll win because we were meant to win."

I frowned up at him, wondering if he really believed that or he was just saying it to boost my confidence. He cupped my face in his big hands, leaned down slowly, and kissed me gently. I grabbed his jacket and pulled him closer, trying to brand the feeling onto my soul. In case I didn't make it, in case the only thing left of me was energy and memories.

Hank drew me into a hug, just holding me as tight as he could, and I knew he was doing the same as I was, committing me to memory. Just in case.

We stepped back at the same time. "Thank you." If I didn't get to say it after, I was saying it now, so he knew how much this meant to me, this . . . standing by my side.

I took my place at the altar where I could read from the book. Pen walked to the largest trilithon, the center stone set in a horseshoe ring of five that stood within the circle. It was directly across from the altar stone, making Pen and me face-to-face over the distance. Hank and Leander took up places about ten feet away from each end of the altar stone, facing toward it.

Here we go.

Pen began first, feet braced apart, clasping his hands together in front of him and bowing his head as though at church. It was such a familiar stance; it took me by surprise. And then the familiarity ended. The intensity of the henge rose until pain flowed through my eardrums. It was like standing inside a heartbeat-Earth's, to be exact. The center trilithon behind him began to glow and soon every monolith and capstone had taken on a soft gray light.

When the Druid lifted his head and opened his eyes, they were the same color as the stones. And that's why he's called the Druid King, my inner voice said in awe.

Next came Hank. I glanced over, heart pounding now. His eyes connected with mine. He closed his fist, and the shimmering golden light began like it had before. The lopsided grin he shot me said, Yeah, I know it's cool. I smiled. Show-off. His grin widened. His hand brightened. Light flooded through his veins, a beautiful web of primal golden power.

I turned to Leander, not really knowing what the h.e.l.l he was going to do or what power he planned on using. Or, h.e.l.l, maybe he'd just come to watch. He just stood there, arms folded, and c.o.c.ked an unimpressed eyebrow at me. Whatever. Guess it was my turn.

Dear Lord, please get me through this.

According to the tome, once I read the words, I need do nothing more than use my intention to command the darkness. I drew on my power like I'd done before. The words took shape and I opened myself up, allowing my power to grow and brighten and consume me. Hot and cold stung my insides as everything came together, and then hummed with crystal clarity and unity.

I vibrated with energy. The symbols on my arm began their strange bluish glow. Accept yourself. Make yourself whole. Make the shadow whole. I was Charbydon, Elysian, Human, Divine. Not one or two, but all. It was time to accept every part of me and let go of the past and the fears, to stop clinging to my humanity and the shadows of my former self. The barriers I'd built had to come down. This is who I am now. I accept it. I welcome it. I seize it by the f.u.c.king b.a.l.l.s and bend it to my will.

I felt the break, the snap of final resistance giving way. I burned, but the burn felt good, strangely . . . right.

I know who I am now.

When I opened my mouth to issue my commands, there was enough force behind them that Sachath would notice.

I tilted my head back, shouting the words into the sky. With intent, I commanded the darkness to move, to swirl like a hurricane. Bottle green flashes snaked like lightning through the undulating gray as its motion began to realign, slow and slumberous, a giant waking. I'd been inside that ma.s.s, courtesy of Llyran, and knew millions of tiny particles of raw energy were there for the taking.

Leander finally looked suitably impressed. But then his attention snapped off to the left. f.u.c.k. Incoming. The sonic boom rent the air and shook the ground. Adrenaline pumped through my veins swift and strong.

I held on to the altar. Death was here.

21.

A jagged shroud of gray hovered over the henge and then floated down, coming together into form as it landed on solid feet. A solid being. Like I'd seen in Ahkneri's dream. I swallowed, using my intent to summon the darkness, to draw it together and build its energy, bringing those tiny sandlike particles together over the henge.

Make the shadow whole.

Together, together. But not by your hand.

It stood between me and Pen, blocking the Druid King from my sight. The altar I stood behind created a barrier, but that was just an illusion in my head-nothing was going to keep Sachath from advancing, altar or not.

No longer needing the book, I closed it slowly. All I had to use now was my focus and intention. I backed away from the altar. It advanced. My hair stirred. I wanted to look up, but didn't. I shoved away the images from the vision and pulled the darkness down, imagining it as a sliver, a thread pulled from the swirling ma.s.s above.

Sachath spoke and the force, the power behind it, sent me back two steps. Oh, yeah, it was definitely going to strike. There was no confusion, no curiosity, or frustration in its ancient tone this time.

I backed away as it strode forward. It jumped onto the altar and when it did, I yelled, "Now!"

With everything I had, every bit of will I possessed, I commanded the darkness into Sachath, imagining it shooting forward like a rocket, the ma.s.s above forcing it down, sending all those particles of energy into the blow. At the same time, Pen stepped back and the trilithon swallowed him whole; the only thing I could see was his outline, which brightened, and then the staggering power of Mother Earth shot out from him/the stone and hit Sachath from behind as the darkness. .h.i.t its chest.

An eerie scream popped my ears.

It floated up and onto the altar, intending to step down and continue on its driven path to a.s.sa.s.sinate me. But it was. .h.i.t by an arc of brilliant gold. Sachath's shadows wreathed like snakes around its body. The female face elongated, eyes going hollow, mouth turning black, then gray, then translucent.

My arm went hot. My power wanted out. It pushed at me, begging, needing to fight. It craved battle on a level that felt inherent. No. I couldn't strike the blow or I'd become Sachath. Didn't matter that I had no weapon; my arm was the weapon.

The three primal powers snaked over Sachath, battering against the Creator's divine power. The creature writhed and screamed, but it wasn't dying.

Panic cracked my focus. I glanced at Leander. Or where he'd once stood.

Leander was gone.

What the f.u.c.k?

My heart hammered until it was all I heard. Power pulsed through me. I had to regain focus. Calm down. I looked up at the darkness, struck by how angry and alive it seemed, how a huge arm of it had reached down and curled around Sachath, pushing at it, trying to get inside. More. Fill it up. Tear it apart.

Hank's power glowed from the center of Sachath's chest, like a bright flame trying to eat its way inside, trying to destroy. And yet it was getting nowhere.

My arm lifted on instinct. I forced it back down. G.o.ddammit. But I remembered. I could wound it, take out its legs, and weaken it. I renewed my command on the darkness and then zeroed in on the creature. Yes, strike, my power urged, compelling me, building until my arm went completely numb. I lifted my hand and blasted the f.u.c.ker.

It hit Sachath in the ankles and split the altar stone with a booming crack. The creature buckled and fell in a shower of divine light. Its screams filled my head. Oh yeah, it was wounded.

As if sensing weakness, Pen, now in dragon form, shot from the blinding light of the stone. His large black body came at Sachath talons first, his muscled legs outstretched, talons curved like razor-sharp scythes. He slammed into the creature, claws sinking deep into the chest. The force sent them tumbling. It was quick and vicious. Sachath's shadows snapped and stabbed and constricted. Pen bit and ravaged with fangs and talons. Hank surged forward as Sachath righted itself, floating above the ground. Pen went tumbling across the gra.s.s and struck one of the outer monoliths. The glow in the center trilithon went weaker, but power surged through the other stones and brightened where Pen had landed, filling him up again. The dragon's eyes popped open. He righted himself, crouched, and let out an angry roar.

Shadows sliced and jabbed around Hank, but he was preternaturally quick. He would've made an awesome Disciple, I thought in a weird moment of observation. And then Pen was back in the fray, and the siren and the dragon faced off against Death as I kept my focus on the darkness.

If I could wound it again . . .

But then in a burst of clarity, I had another idea. I sent an order to the darkness. I'd strike a nonlethal blow, and the darkness would attach itself, ride with my power straight into Sachath's body. Hank's power was already trying to fulfill its destructive purpose. With the Charbydon energy also inside . . . They'd blow Sachath sky high. Hopefully.

A shadow pierced Hank's thigh, through the front and straight out the back. He faltered, going down on one knee as another sliver rose up to take his head. Pen struck, using his tail to knock Hank out of the way. The shadow redirected, slicing through Pen's wing. The roar that followed . . . I blanched, knowing Pen was seriously wounded.

Sweat rolled down my back as I gave everything I had to growing the divine power inside me and keeping the darkness attacking Sachath. Hank forced himself up, but Sachath was quick. It used its shadows like thin razor-sharp slivers and pierced Hank's body in multiple places, pinning him into the gra.s.s.