Shadows Before the Sun (33 page)

T
HREE DAYS LATER
. . .

“If you want to live long enough to see the light of day, then you’d better unhand the snickerdoodles.” Rex glared at me.

I grinned with my mouth full, chewing—and savoring every bite of—the snickerdoodles Rex had made for our picnic at Stone Mountain. I swallowed. “Since I happen to be the one bringing the light, I think I’ll live.”

The happiness and sense of wholeness I felt was still a bit of a novelty. Hank was back. Sachâth was dead. The darkness overhead was about to be lifted. And I’d come into my divine powers. They weren’t exactly the same as the First Ones’, but they were close enough, and I was more certain than ever I had the sylphs to thank for bringing my powers together and making the transition easier. That day I’d been
buried under the ground, embraced by the earth, I knew
something
had happened . . .

Rex spread out the second picnic blanket on a flat area of granite while Hank played Frisbee with Emma, Brim, and Amanda. Apparently, all Hank had needed was three days of rest and he was back to his old, insanely beautiful self. Though if he didn’t stop making “halo” and “angel” jokes, I was going to hurt him. But he was mine—another novelty I was still getting used to. He wanted a relationship, no matter how fast or slow I wanted to take it. He was here for the long haul; I knew that without him ever having to say a word.

Aaron and Bryn sat on the other blanket talking with Marti and Titus, who were now officially a couple. Titus was still in the process of identifying the properties of the liquid found in Leander’s cylinder. His goal was to reproduce it and then put it through a series of tests before trying it on the
ash
addicts. It was a slow process since the substance was off-world and unknown to our scientists. But if all went well, then maybe, just maybe, we might have a viable cure in the days or weeks to come.

While Rex wasn’t looking, I stole another snickerdoodle and popped it into my mouth as Liz, Sian, and the chief emerged from the trail and out onto the massive rocky landscape of the mountain. Since the darkness had spread itself over the city, the Summit Skyride, which offered a cable car ride to the top of Stone Mountain, had cut their hours of operation in
half. Still, people liked to come up here to get a closer look at the darkness or to see the city lights of Atlanta in the distance.

I gave them a wave, thinking for the hundredth time how I could strangle Rex for telling everyone what I was about to do and then turning it into a family outing. I’d wanted to come to Stone Mountain because it was high, about eight hundred feet or so, and got me close to the darkness without, say, standing on top of a skyscraper—been there, done that, and wasn’t doing it again. The massive exposed piece of granite was a prime spot to watch today’s success or failure.

I still had control of the darkness. It was mine until I released it. I stood, wiped my hands on my jeans, and got ready to start the show. Hank came up behind me. “You ready to do this thing, angel cake?”

I turned and glared up at him. But it didn’t last long because the blinding, bad-boy grin he gave me struck me like a gale-force wind. His irises shifted into topaz blue. He leaned down close, his nose nearly brushing mine. “Tonight. My place. Bring the damned jewels.”

The breath left me. It took me a moment to find my voice, one that meant to say something insanely witty, but all I said was, “What about the gown?”

His grin grew deeper. His mouth brushed past my cheek to my ear, and he dropped his voice down to a level of potent, blatant lust. “You won’t be needing the gown.”

I blinked as a wave of heat shuddered down my body. He slipped his hand in mine. So maybe the relationship part would progress slowly, but the intimate part was already blazing a trail across the sky. And I wasn’t complaining.

We stood at an area of the rock where it began to slope gently downward. Emma held my left hand, Hank held my right. Rex stood next to Emma with his arm around her shoulder, Brim standing between them. The others had gathered around us. I felt Bryn behind me, squeezing my shoulder.

It was now or never.

I gazed at the massive, tumbling waves of darkness, suddenly sad to see it go, which was weird enough for me to not delve into. Atlanta needed the sun back. The plants and animals, the people, needed the light. Hank and Emma squeezed my hand at the same time.

I grinned down at my daughter as she smiled up at me with a look of such belief and happiness.

Deep breath. Focus with intention. Command the darkness back to Charbydon.

Goose bumps lifted the tiny hairs on my arms. The tingling feeling traveled, engulfing me. The once forty miles of darkness was now less than half its size, thanks to events at the henge. Still large by all accounts, though, so it was a slow start as the behemoth began to swirl in one direction.

As it moved it eventually began to thin, the outer edges of it thinning first and finally disappearing until it grew smaller and smaller and smaller, revealing
blue sky until there was just a shadow left over the sun.

I held my breath, heart pounding.

And then . . . sunlight. Gorgeous, warm sunlight burst through the last of the shadows and blinded us.

•    •    •

He strode down the path leading to the Druid’s temple in the Grove. The sun had already set, making the way dark and familiar—the usual. Ahead of him Charlie and Rex walked side by side. He could hear the soft murmurs of their voices as they drifted back to him. They didn’t know he was behind them yet, but the closer he came, Charlie would know, would feel her mark warm. He was late, had meant to meet them at the gate. More evidence had been discovered along the lake and they needed Rex to take a look.

He was too far away to see Charlie clearly, but he saw enough. Dressed for work in cargos, light leather jacket, no doubt armed to the teeth . . . God, she was tough. And beautiful. And so fucking fragile of heart it made his chest hurt. The way she’d surprised him last night . . . He hadn’t thought she’d actually show up. With the jewels. He loved those damned jewels.

He’d felt her shyness, though she’d die before admitting it. He’d felt her fear, too. Fear of getting her heart broken again. If only she knew the lengths he’d go to see that never happened . . .

She’d stood on his doorstep, a sparkling anklet dangling from her raised finger, those bow-shaped lips twisted into a brazen smile. And he’d been lost. Sucker punched.

Charlie. Bare skin. Jewels. Cavewoman talk.

His pulse leapt at the memory. Blood diverted. Down boy.

He was walking alone, in the dark, smiling like a goddamned idiot. And it felt good.

Last night, he slept without dreams, without nightmares and reminders, and this morning, he woke with . . . hope.

Ashton Perry, ITF detective and champion dickhead, headed down the path toward Charlie and Rex. Hank could feel the guy’s rage even from this distance. Charlie liked to fight her own battles, but this was one he’d love to fight for her, to end the racist comments and sneers. The bastard needed to get a fucking life and move on. The case had been officially moved back to their department and, as expected, “Asston” had had a hissy fit. He was probably here to brownnose the Druid and convince Pen that he was better off with Asston on the case.

Hank’s long stride covered ground and he’d gotten close enough to hear the exchange as Asston approached Charlie with his hands clenched at his sides—no doubt Pen had sent him packing, which would explain the higher than usual anger. “Druid’s a fucking dick, so I’m sure you two have lots in common, Madigan.”

“Bite me, Asston,” Charlie shot back.

“They couldn’t pay me enough to get that close to you.” Asston slammed his shoulder against Charlie’s as he passed. Hank’s fists clenched tightly. “Where’s your partner? Siren orgy at the Bath House?” he called over his shoulder.

Charlie turned. “Why? Jealous?”

“Yeah, right. How’s it been, Madigan, slumming with an off-worlder?” Asston laughed and then turned back
toward the path where his face plowed into the wall that was Hank’s fist.

Asston spun, already unconscious before he hit the ground.

Sweet fucking satisfaction flowed through Hank’s body as he gazed unmercifully down and then stepped over the unconscious asshole on the ground.

“Nicely done,” Rex said as Hank approached.

“Felt good, too,” he replied in a deep timbre that he knew would get under Charlie’s skin. He stopped in front of her. She gazed up at him with humor glinting in her eyes and he couldn’t help himself. “So, how’s it been?” His grin went lopsided. “Slumming with an off-worlder?”

She tried to hide her smile, and again there was that punch to the gut. “I wouldn’t know,” she lied for Rex’s benefit.

He dipped his face close to her ear. “Want to find out?”

“Oh, geez! Get a room!” Rex cried, slapping his hands over his ears.

Charlie’s laughter filled the Grove, sinking into his being and filling it with that sense of hope again. He thought suddenly of Fiallan, where he could be king, could rule and demand satisfaction for the wrongs done to him . . .

He shoved his hands in his pockets. To hell with being king. He was right where he wanted to be.

Deepest thanks and warmest regards to my readers for their continued support and kindness, to my family for putting up with the Deadline Crazies, and to my friends for sticking by me and remembering who I am after the writing-inspired hibernation/absences.

Much thanks to Megan McKeever for the excellent edit and to Miriam Kriss for keeping the business wheels turning.

But most of all, to my editor, Ed Schlesinger, who gets my work, trusts in my storytelling, and helps me make sense of it all when I can’t, and who gave me the gift of time—a
lot
of time. Thank you!

The streets of Atlanta belong to P.D. detective Charlie Madigan in the “standout new series” (
Publishers Weekly
) from Pocket Books. . . .

Be sure to read Kelly Gay’s“extraordinary” (
Booklis
) urban fantasy novels!