The Better Part of Darkness (18 page)

With a defeated sigh, I rearranged my hair and straightened the sweater set as best I could, but there was no hiding or fixing the tears in Bryn’s clothes. My ankle still hurt, though not as badly as before, and the pumps made an uneven clicking sound on the pavement as I limped toward Mercy Street.

Hodgepodge was busy as usual.

Through the window I caught a glimpse of Emma behind the counter, helping to wrap an item for a customer. The undercover officer, a rookie I’d seen at the station numerous times though never actually met, sat on a stool near the pub next door. He was inconspicuous enough—looked like a bouncer. When he gave me the once-over and recognized me, he nodded. I did the same back and then entered the shop.

Making a beeline to the counter was a little difficult in the maze of shelves, boxes, statues, and customers. Emma and Bryn were too exposed here. After making an enemy of the CPP today and the threat of rogues and vigilantes, I had to get them out of harm’s way. And there was still the issue of Grigori Tennin and the second debt hanging over my head.

My fingers drummed against my thigh as I waited for the Wiccan in front of me to pay for her sage bundle. It gave me time to scan the store, looking for anything or anyone suspicious. Gizmo was on guard near the door, and I found myself warming up to the idea of Bryn’s security system. At least it was
something
. The Wiccan brushed by me. Emma turned away from the back counter just as I stepped forward. Her face brightened.

Immediately, I put my finger to my lips and hushed the outburst I saw coming. The last thing I wanted was for everyone in the store to know she was my kid.

Bryn came over, her anklets tinkling with each step. “What’s wrong?” Then she noticed the ruined outfit. “What the hell happened to my clothes?” She took one step back and waved the air. “It smells like you went for a swim in an algae pond.”

“It’s nothing,” I said, not wanting to alarm Emma. “I was just thinking you could close the store early today.”

“But—”

I turned my back toward the counter so Em couldn’t see my face and gave my sister a look that spoke volumes. “Please, Bryn, for once just listen and don’t argue.” I didn’t want to frighten Emma, but the urgency to get them both safe ticked against my nerves like a time bomb. There were customers at my back, and any one of them could be a threat.

“Is this about Amanda?” Emma leaned over the counter. “And those jinn?” My head whipped around, and she held up her hands in an innocent gesture. “What? It’s all over the Internet and the TV. And stop looking at me like that. I’m not a baby. I’m almost twelve, and that’s almost a teenager.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And I know you didn’t shoot those guys because you wanted to. It’s your job, Mom. I get it.”

I blinked, feeling as though I’d just been whacked over the head with a cast-iron frying pan. Emma was at the age where acting smart, cool, and nonchalant was priority number one. Teen prep, I called it. I shook my head, knowing she had to be concerned, scared, worried … And it’d take some coaxing to get her to admit it.

“God,” Bryn said, “she sounds just like you, Charlie.” She whistled to Gizmo. “Come on, I guess we’re closing up shop.”

“Good, then Mom can take a shower,” Emma muttered under her breath as she put the wrapping paper under the counter.

Gizmo flew toward us, skimming the shelves and skid-landing on the back counter right next to a cat carrier, which, I realized, held Spooky.

“Hank dropped her off earlier,” Bryn said, watching Gizmo approach the cat crate, his pug-like face outstretched and sniffing. Suddenly, a black paw shot through the bars and smacked his nose. He squeaked and scrambled back, his claws scratching the counter.

As Bryn steadied Gizmo, I turned to face the patrons, studying each one.

Once the gargoyle had settled into a prone position on the counter, away from the cat, Bryn personally went around to each shopper letting them know the store was closing early and to bring any purchases to the counter. Of course, as a few stood in line to check out, others used the opportunity to keep shopping. I leaned against the counter, my fingers gripping the edge and itching to escort them out Atlanta PD style.

By the time everyone left, my patience had evaporated.

And then Will showed up.

Bryn was in the process of locking the door when he appeared on the other side. Emma raced to let him in, chatting away about school being cancelled.

I pulled Bryn aside, shoving my loose bangs behind my ear. The damn twist wasn’t holding. “What is he doing here?”

“I called him.”

“You
what
?”

She shrugged. “He needs to know what’s going on, Charlie. He’s seen the news. Can you blame him for being worried about you and Em? He is her father. He’s called three times trying to get in touch with you. It’s a legitimate concern.”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and drew in air, wondering if having this much patience would qualify me for sainthood.
Deep breath, Charlie.
Trying to erase the last embarrassing scene with Will from my mind, being rejected after pleading with him to screw me against the wall, I went to tuck my thumbs into the waistband of what should have been jeans or sensible slacks, but I was still wearing the damned skirt.

Will noticed and his smile amplified to a thousand watts. “Funeral?”

I gave up and threw my hands in the air. “Why does everyone think
just
because I’m in a skirt that I’ve been to a funeral? I wear skirts …”

He and Bryn exchanged looks over the counter as she locked the register.

“Mom. You never wear skirts.”

“You’re
supposed
to be on my side,” I said through gritted teeth as Emma leaned into Will and smiled. “You’ve been spending too much time with your Aunt Bryn. Go, get Spooky and we’ll take her upstairs.”

“I boarded your window,” Will said once Emma was out of range. “Cleaned up the glass, made sure all the locks were in good shape.” He didn’t mention the smell, but his gaze swept over the damaged outfit. “How are you holding up?”

My tension deflated a little. “Fine. Thanks for doing that. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Accepting help from him, if it didn’t have to do with Emma, remained a hard pill to swallow. Even if he was just being nice. I’d made it a rule not to rely on him for things.

“All right, kids, let’s go,” I said, ushering them to the door. I’d feel much better when they were all safely inside the brick walls of Bryn’s apartment.

As Will followed Emma around to the apartment entrance, I waited for Bryn to lock the store as Gizmo flew to the second-story window and perched on the ledge where she’d let him in once we got inside.

She turned to me. “Ready?”

I fell in step beside her. “Thanks for closing the store.” She responded with a shrug. “I wanted to get your take on something I saw earlier in the Lion’s Den.”

She stopped, mouth open. “You went to the Lion’s Den?” I gave her the same simple shrug she’d just given me. “Oh, my God, Charlie.” Her hands went to her hips. “You made a bargain with him, didn’t you?”

“It’s not the end of the world,” I said defensively. “I have a plan … sort of …” Her eyes fluttered closed, and she mouthed a count of three, before I pulled her along to the door. “A flower,” I said, ignoring her lecture about making deals with devils, “as big as a man’s hand. White petals with, I swear to God, a white center that
glowed
.” She went quiet. “Like those plankton that glow in the ocean—”

“Bioluminescent,” she said softly.

“Exactly. The center was ringed with red and red streaks ran down the middle of each petal, but didn’t reach the end.” I held the apartment door open. “You’re the horticultural expert. What is it? And where is it from?”

We stepped inside, trailing Emma and Will. “Are you sure it was glowing and not just the light?”

“One hundred percent sure.”

“Seriously?”

We stopped on the third step. “Yeah, why, what is it?”

“And the red, it was bloodred, right?”

I frowned. “Bryn.”

Disbelief swam in her eyes and she let out a deep breath as though she didn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “
Sangurne N’ashu
. A Bleeding Soul. It’s not supposed to exist. It’s just a legend.”

“Well, not anymore.”

As we climbed the stairs, I looked up at my waiting family and was immediately struck by flashes of old memories, the times when we’d all come over to Bryn’s for dinner. And sometimes she’d come to our house, so Will could cook on the grill. I loved helping him, loved being outside, eating good food, drinking an ice-cold beer, playing in the yard with Em … just being happy.

An ache spread across my chest as I trailed Bryn up the stairs.

At the landing, Will turned to Emma. “Go inside with Aunt Bryn. I want to talk to Mom for a minute.”

“Okay,” she responded with a careless shrug, toting Spooky, and followed Bryn inside.

With Will and me on the landing, the small space quickly became claustrophobic. All six foot three rugged inches of him sucked the air out of the space around us. His scent wrapped around me—this morning’s cologne mixed with the smell of his skin.

He scrubbed a calloused hand over his stubbly jaw, sighing heavily. Wary, I leaned against the wall. He caught my gaze and held it with his. My stomach flipped. So much history with him. All the goofy names we’d said, the plans for our future, the way we so innocently believed nothing would ever come between a love so strong.

Yeah, right.

“So, you’re a wanted woman,” he said, not sounding surprised that I was in serious trouble. “Let me take Emma until this blows over. I can take some time off. We’ll go down to Disney World. I’ve been promising her we’d go.”

Actually, that didn’t sound like a bad idea. “She’d love that.”

He managed a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “If it wasn’t for her, I’d stay and help you nail the assholes setting you up.”

“I know. But you’d be doing the right thing. Em comes first.”

“Em comes first,” he echoed.

In the break of uncomfortable silence, we heard Spooky screech and Gizmo let out a cry that resembled a chicken squawk. Things fell. Something broke. Bryn and Emma yelled.

“Sounds like Spooky just met Gizmo,” Will said, staring the door and wincing as a thud hit the wood.

“I should go help them.”

“Charlie,” he began before I could make a move to the door. I paused at the brief flash of desolation in his eyes. Then, they clouded over to firm conviction. “I can’t stop thinking about the other day. Me and you. We’ve got to deal with this, work things out.” He stilled completely, as though bracing himself. “Do you still love me?”

My nostrils flared. Blooms of heat stung my cheeks.
Damn him!
A riotous mix of anger and heartache flowed through me. He’d always been direct. It was one of the things I liked about him. But why did he have to bring this up now? And why did my body go all haywire lately when he was around?

He kept his features blank, but the muscles in his jaw worked overtime. A storm brewed in his blue eyes, but behind the turmoil there was caution and vulnerability. I hated seeing him like this, like some wounded animal clinging to his last bit of dignity and strength. The last thing I wanted was to hurt him, but I didn’t want to
be
hurt either.

My voice croaked when I tried to speak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Will …” After that, I didn’t know what to say.

A dark scowl twisted his mouth. It took two steps for him to reach me. I tried to move back, but the damn wall was already flat against my spine. He crowded me, conquering my space with the force of his body and will. The sexual tug of awareness that erupted between us was undeniable. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to slam his fist into the drywall or kiss me. Probably both.

“Do you?”
he ground out, his voice trying to hide the raw hurt.

I swallowed and lifted my gaze to his. “Yes.” I drew in another breath and rushed out, “But it doesn’t change anything.”
You don’t stop loving someone overnight,
I wanted to say.

His face was level with mine as he braced his hand on the wall behind me and leaned closer. “It changes
everything
. Why give up on us if we both feel the same?”

“It’s not about love. Love isn’t the only thing that makes a relationship work.” My voice rose as I placed both palms on his chest to keep him back. “It’s about trust. Hell, I knew you loved me even when you did what you did.” He’d never been able to see my point. “But the crafting, Will … that was even worse than what happened with that woman. You knew how I felt about it. You knew Connor …”

Some of the urgency in his expression softened. “I know, Charlie, I know.” He stepped back and stared at the wreath on Bryn’s door before turning back to me. “I thought I could use the crafting to help get the business off the ground, that I could control how much I did and stay away from the really bad stuff. I guess … I don’t know … You trust me with Emma and you wouldn’t if you thought for one second I was crafting again. This isn’t about trust anymore, Charlie. This is about forgiveness, getting over the betrayal and the pain …”

The truth was like a knife to the softest part of the belly.

Fine. So what? I was hurt, and I wasn’t ready to let go and forgive him. Maybe he did see now the magnitude of what he’d done. But what did he expect; me to go running back because now he got it? Now
he
was ready?

He made a move closer, went to reach out, but changed his mind. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “We’d have to work at it, rebuild things together.”

Yeah, and hindsight is a bitch.

“Charlie,” he breathed on a heavy sigh.

Part of me didn’t want to disappoint him. Part of me wanted to make things work. His eyes held so much suffering and loneliness. And hope. How could I keep him apart from the family he wanted so badly? My chest ached, but I drew on every ounce of strength and conviction I had. My voice wavered. “I’m not ready. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

A rigid curtain fell over his features. He nodded and squared his shoulders. “I can wait.” He pierced me with one last, hard look to tell me he meant it. Then, he opened Bryn’s door and went inside.

I slumped against the wall. Why now? I wanted to scream.
Why the hell now?
Why did he wait until
after
he ripped out my heart and destroyed everything before finally coming clean? Why wasn’t I worth it to never take the risk in the first place? Why wasn’t our marriage and our family worth it? Yeah, I knew all about the addiction side of things, but this was a question that never stopped cycling through my head in the last eight months. And I knew it was a question I’d never get a satisfactory answer to, no matter how many therapists said Will’s addiction had nothing to do with me.

A tornado of emotions whirled inside of me. It was too much, and I didn’t have the luxury of time to deal with it right now. With a deep breath and practiced ease, I centered myself and then shoved any thoughts of Will and my feelings aside, but the ache was still there like a thorn stuck under my rib cage.

Just add it to all the other aches and regrets.

Quickly, I wiped at my eyes, took a few more seconds to fan my face, and then I went inside to eat, shower, and change. Bryn wanted to do a little research on the Bleeding Soul legend and disappeared into her bedroom with her laptop. Once I was cleaned up, I told Emma and Will that I’d be back after dinner.

I had a meeting to attend.

After a quick call to Hank to coordinate the meeting at Mott Tech, I declined Will’s offer to drive me back to the Mustang, which was still parked near Centennial Park. I wanted some time to myself, so I borrowed two bucks from my daughter for the dollar-seventy-five fare to use the MARTA. I could have driven with Hank, but I’d had enough of emotional men for one day.

Bryn had lent me a black T-shirt, which was rather tight across the chest, but soft and stretchy. Her jeans fit me pretty well, hanging a little lower on the hips than I was used to, but, all in all, I felt normal again. She’d also lent me a jacket to wear to hide my shoulder holsters and sidearm. As an added precaution, I’d taken a glamour spell to change my hair color and eyes, but it’d wear off by the time I got to the security gate at Mott Tech.

My ankle had healed, just a few achy twinges here and there as I exited the MARTA station and walked the short distance to the Green Lot on Marietta Street where I’d parked the car.

The chief deserved a big old kiss for setting me up with his nephew’s car. It sat exactly where I’d parked it, shiny and red and totally badass. A smile spread across my face as I strolled to the car, my spirits lifting.

The engine rumbled to life like a growling beast ready to hunt. I shoved it in first and then released the clutch until it caught, giving it gas and surging into traffic. I loved stick shifts, especially the control I had over this V-8, three-hundred-horsepower monster.

Once on I-85, I cranked the stereo. Soul Asylum’s “Runaway Train” blared from the speakers. I sang along in my head, humored by the irony of those lyrics, since they were pretty much how I felt these days, and remembering when Connor and I would blast this song in his room and sing at the top of our lungs until Mom came upstairs and blessed us out. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

With the windows rolled down, the radio blaring, I finally felt some peace and quiet in my soul.
Time to open up this baby and see what she can do,
I thought, swinging into the fast lane and gunning it.

Once I’d exited the highway and turned onto the road leading to Mott Tech, I rolled up the windows and turned on the air conditioning. It wasn’t helping.

Anticipation bubbled through me, making my skin clammy and hot. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel and glanced in the rearview mirror constantly. Warnings fired through my brain like fireworks.

Whether it was a setup or not, Mott was going to tell me what really happened to me the night I died. Don’t ask me how I knew. I just knew. That night had released or given me surprising and strange abilities. Mott realized it. Now I realized it, too.

Finally, I turned down the winding road, which led to the main facility. Once the guards saw my face, they let me right through. I didn’t even have to brake the car to a full stop. The hairs on my arms stood up straight. I used the time it took to drive down the road to calm my nerves using deep, even breaths.

The sun was setting over the rooftop of the one- story building, stinging my eyes for a moment as I drove into the parking lot and found a space in the shadow of the building.

My cell rang. It was Hank.

“I got caught up with the chief,” he said straightaway. “I’m leaving the station now. Wait for me.”

I was already out of the car. “I’m already here.”

“Shit.” The stress in his voice stopped me cold. “The CPP has gone over the chief’s head. You’re to stop the investigation and come into the station to turn in your badge and weapons. You’re officially on leave, Charlie. I’m not so sure we’d have backup if we needed it. Just wait for me in the parking lot.”

I wasn’t surprised the CPP had gotten me recalled. It was only a matter of time. “Okay. Just hurry up.”

He hung up. I went back to the car and leaned against the door, wondering what the hell I’d do for the next thirty minutes. If it was a setup, they already knew I was here. We still weren’t sure if Titus was involved, or who was the mastermind behind the
ash
. And if Titus did have more info on the night I died, I’d rather hear it alone, without Hank as a witness. This was personal.

I blew a strand of loose hair from my face, chewing over the idea of going in anyway and scanning the parking lot for any recognizable vehicles. No limos, black SUVs, or suspicious sedans. The only thing left to do was wait, so I sat on the hood of the car and watched the orange ball of fire settle into the hazy horizon. Bored, I slid the rubber band off my ponytail, finger-combed my hair, which looked almost red in the glow of the setting sun, and then used the band to secure my tresses in a messy knot. It’d be another cool evening. Maybe, after this was over, Hank and I could walk down to the pavilion by the lake.

Ten minutes later, my cell phone rang again. “Madigan.”

“Would you rather talk in the parking lot, Detective?” came Titus’s questioning voice.

I glanced at the security camera. The underground lab gave me a trapped feeling, so I took him up on the offer. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all; just give me a few minutes to lock up down here, and I’ll come up.”

“Great.” I flipped my cell closed, feeling a wash of relief. Maybe it wasn’t a setup after all.

The sound of tire treads on asphalt edged in on my thoughts. A line of black vehicles blinked through the open spaces of the trees. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind who was in the limo.

Damn it!

I jumped into the car, revved the engine, and peeled out of the parking lot, fishtailing. There was only one way in and that was blocked, so I drove onto the grass, gaining speed to bypass the vehicles and come out behind the line of cars. At that moment, I wished the fire-engine-red Mustang was a nice camouflage green.

They noticed me almost immediately, but I’d acted quickly enough to dodge behind them. My teeth clattered as the car bumped wildly over the ground. Coming upon the road, I knew I was going too fast to make the turn, so I shoved the gear into neutral, hit the emergency brake, and spun the wheel, making a one-eighty right onto the blacktop road.
Thank you, Connor!
All those nights doing doughnuts in his old beat-up Camaro had paid off. I shoved the car in gear and took off toward the gatehouse. In the rearview mirror, black SUVs turned around and followed.