The Hour of Dust and Ashes cm-3 Page 7

  What didn’t make sense, though, was the fact that these elusive beings had been in hiding for thousands of years, keeping themselves from the eyes of the world so well that they remained a question of uncertainty. And they chose now to reveal themselves, and to me? “So you’re here in Atlanta because …?”

  A sniff and a few droplets of water trickled out of her delicate nose. Her pointed chin rose a fraction. “The portend. The darkness”—she lifted her hand to the sky and I noticed rivulets of water running down her arm; the water at her feet was trailing up, encircling her like vines, moving in thin streams around her limbs—“is a prophecy of the Ceallachan. Our wise ones. You will be granted our aid, Charlie Madigan. You must accept each gift we give.”

  My muscles had gone so tight, they ached. My heart pounded hard. Gifts. No problem. Who didn’t like gifts, right? “Uh, thank you,” I said, unsure of what to do next.

  “You may remove your clothing if you wish.”

  I did a mental double take, floundering for a second. I might be about to get anointed and wet somehow, but I’d do it with my clothes on, thank you very much.

  I removed my jacket, weapons, and cell phone, setting them in a pile on an even spot of ground away from the water’s edge. Boots came off, then socks, before I walked back over the cool grass toward the sylph.

  I rubbed my hands down my arms and drew in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

  “Accept the gift,” she told me in earnest. “You must accept it.”

  “Right. Accept the gift. Got it. Now what?”

  The water around Nivian’s ankles rose. Her pale arms lifted straight out. Her head tipped back slightly and a very small smile turned up one corner of her bluish lips. Higher the water rose, yet it didn’t spill onto the embankment as it should’ve done. The way she commanded it, it was like she was a tiny, creepy version of Moses parting the Red Sea.

  And then she stared straight at me with those watery eyes. “Accept the gift.”

  I had time to gasp once as she swirled, completely dissolving into water as it reared up and engulfed me. A great wave grabbed me off the ground and pulled me far out into the lake.

  There was no time to prepare, no time to catch another breath. No time for anything as I was dragged under by the ankles.

  Panic, stark and black, filled me. Water shot up my nose. My hands went to my face, but it was too late. Water slid down my throat. The urge to cough, to gasp for breath, burned a straining, searing path to my lungs.

  A raw scream exploded in my head and I flailed for the surface somewhere high above me, struggling for air. For life.

  Dear God!

  Pressure built in my chest, my throat, my face. Can’t … hold it … in.

  “B. &e, Charlie Madigan, breathe,” Nivian’s strange voice came from all directions.

  I can’t! I screamed in my mind.

  “Accept the gift.”

  I held on until it felt as though my face would explode from the pressure, my eyes squeezed tightly together in an effort to keep out the water. White dots appeared behind my eyelids. My fingernails finally punctured the rough skin of my palms.

  Burning. God. Help. Me.

  I gulped.

  The pain that hit me was unlike anything I’d experienced before. Nothing happened. No air. Oh God. Choking. Another gulp and another. Like a fish on dry land. That primal, involuntary need to breathe, and yet I was suffocating. Water filled my lungs, the pressure so acute that every muscle in my body tensed into steel. Frozen, molded, in certain death.

  I’d stopped moving. Black fuzz ringed my consciousness as I floated like a frozen statue in deep, cold, silent water.

  “Accept the gift.”

  One more gulp. Pathetic. That final gasp.

  The pain in my chest began to subside, and it was in that irrevocable moment that I thought about using my power. Hank and I had practiced manipulating water. And yet everything had happened so suddenly, taking me completely by surprise, that all my faculties were still left standing on dry ground.

  Then I was jerked as though a small kid had reached down and grabbed a sinking plastic doll by the calf.

  I had no sense of time.

  One minute I was a floating Barbie doll and the next I was on the embankment, curled on my side as water ran out of my mouth and nose and ears as though it left me of its own free will.

  It crowded my desperate airway, shoving its way out and making me feel bloated and suffocated all over again.

  Once the water ebbed and air had room to make its way, I gulped and gasped, loud and noisy, as my fingers dug into the soft soil for purchase. I vomited, an action so violent that my bladder released. Warm liquid spread between my thighs as bile filled my mouth and soaked the ground, mixing with the scent of lake water and urine.

  The shaking started then, fierce and uncontrollable, as my head fell onto the ground, turning slightly to avoid a face-plant.

  Nivian stood in the water, at the very edge, watching me. Anger flared, stinging my eyes with wet tears. “Your next gifts will come within three days’ time.” She tossed my cell phone onto the ground in front of me in clear distaste. “It … shrilled. Someone spoke. He is coming to pick you up.” A surprised look must have crossed my face because she said, “We are not oblivious, Charlie Madigan. We have watched the rise and fall of civilizations, watched as the population encroaches farther and farther into our territory, taking from it, killing it, killing the earth.” An unnerving grin crawled over her strange elfin face. “You will all destroy yourselves and then we shall begin to heal this place and it will be ours once again.” And with that, her ankles went watery and she dropped into the lake, disappearing and leaving me on the side of the embankmt alone, cold, shaking, and nearly dead.

  God, let it be the chief who called. Please, not Rex. Because Rex would have Emma with him and the last thing I wanted was for my kid to see me like this.

  I curled into a tight ball, shivering and too exhausted to heal myself. Just a moment of rest …

  The shutting of a car door woke me.

  Through the cottony fog in my brain, I heard footsteps on gravel and the gentle lap of the water nearby. My own heat or spent tears, I wasn’t sure, had made my eyes dry. I blinked several times, and tried to swallow, but stopped cold and moaned in pain. My sense of smell kicked in and my sore stomach rolled. My weight had made a nice little impression in the grass, where a wet stinking puddle formed beneath me.

  Nice.

  The faint vibrations of footsteps reached me. And fuck if my mark wasn’t tingling. I groaned inwardly in utter disbelief.

  The grass dipped behind me. I stayed curled on my side. A finger removed a wet strand of hair plastered across my face. A deep sigh wafted through the air, whispering, What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?

  “Are you going to look at me, Charlie?”

  Warmth burst in my belly at the sound of his deep, potent voice. The gentle zing of pleasure it brought me told me just how much I’d missed that sound in the last week. A siren’s voice was their power. Their lure.

  And Hank’s voice washed through me like a shot of the smoothest whiskey.

  I didn’t want to look at him. I knew what I’d see—an insanely beautiful male, a being brimming with strength, masculinity, and carnal innuendo all wrapped in a package that grinned like the devil and spoke like an angel. While I was the total opposite, a dark, wet mess lying in a stinking puddle.

  Was I going to look at him? Hell no.

  I moved my arm over my head to hide my profile, curling tighter and shrinking away. Weakness stole over me. Tears stung my eyes and thickened my throat. Just that small bit of action hurt.

  “Would you like to rinse off in the—”

  “No!” The word shot out my mouth on wings of pure horror. It hurt, but there was no way in hell I was getting back in there, reeking or not. No. Way. Just the idea had my heart leaping wildly. I removed my arm just a little and turned onto my back to face him
.

  Gently assessing, intelligent eyes stared out from a rugged face blessed by the gods, designed to strike devotion, lust, obsession in the hearts and minds of most living things. Sure, darkness rolled above us, but right then I felt like the sun had finally come out.

  Emotions flipped through me, one after another, like the turning pages of a book. I finally managed a swallow and a lame “Hey.”

  A slow, crooked grin made a little crescent in his left cheek. “Hi, Charlie.”

  7

  Hank glanced beyond me to the lake, his smile fading. One hand slipped beneath my knees and the other went around my back. Without a word, he lifted me off the ground.

  My hands came around his neck, the skin hot to my cold fingers. His clean scent filled the air as my head fell against his shoulder. The image of Hank’s ex-girlfriend Zara came to mind, all tall and gorgeous and perfect in her siren beauty. As comparisons went, she was probably looking pretty good to Hank right about then. My humiliation increased with every stride he made up the embankment.

  My hands slid off his wide shoulders as he set me on my feet, one hand around my waist while opening the car door with the other. Sleek black Mercedes coupe stared back at me. Oh, great. Humiliation complete. “Don’t put me in your car,” I begged in a whisper. “You’ll ruin your seats. Just put me in the back of my Tahoe. I’ll drive when I feel better.”

  “They’re just seats, Charlie. It’s not a big deal. I’ll call the chief and see if he can get someone out here to get your truck.”

  I slid wet and stiff onto the expensive leather seats, totally grossed out by myself. Hank got in, opened our windows, and then started the car.

  I faced away from him, curling toward the door and shaking uncontrollably. My thoughts turned to Nivian. That watery little bitch had tried to drown me. I wanted to choke her with her own damn lake water or, better yet, stake her to the hot sand beneath the blazing sun of the Sahara Desert. Let her dry up until she resembled a tiny piece of sylph jerky.

  Imagining revenge, however, didn’t make me feel better.

  I watched the miles go by, letting my mind drift to one vague thought after another. The mark on my shoulder stayed warm, the heat seeping into my cold limbs. By the time we pulled into my driveway in Candler Park, my tremors had become minor.

  Hank turned off the engine and got out. I reached for the door handle, but it slipped rather violently from my weak fingers. Frustration flared; I was so tapped out that I couldn’t even pull a fucking door handle.

  My door opened on its own. Hank stood back, one hand on the top of the car as he bent down to extend me his other hand.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, sliding my hand into his. He hauled me from the car. As soon as my full weight settled into my legs, my knees gave way.

  “Whoa,” Hank said, picking me up and shutting the car door with his foot.

  “Anyone home?” he asked.

  “No, Rex and Emma went shopping and Brim is in the kennel.”

  Hank used his own key, the one I’d exchanged with him a long time ago, opened the door, and took me straight up the stairs and into my bathroom, where he set me on the counter and then turned on the water in the tub.

  “Shower or bath?” He glanced over his shoulder.

  I stared at him. I hadn’t seen him in a week and suddenly he was here, his six-foot-four frame filling my bathroom, and taking care of me like it was the most natural thing in the world and I didn’t reek like a sewer.

  “Earth to Charlie.”

  “Oh, um, shower.” I needed to stand, to get the strength back into my legs.

  Hank adjusted the water temperature, turned on the shower, and closed the curtain. As he straightened, I was thrown back to a similar situation when I’d stabbed him with the Throne Tree branch and he’d been unable to get into his bathroom on his own or undress himself. He’d relied on me. He hadn’t told me to go, to leave and not see him so weak. He let me in, and I suppose that was a form of trust after all. For all he didn’t tell me about his past, I knew he did trust me with his present.

  “Could you …?”

  He didn’t blink, didn’t register any kind of emotion, just stepped closer, grabbed the hem of my shirt, and pulled it over my head. He tossed the nasty thing into the corner and then stood me up to help with my pants. I was so shaky and weak; I grabbed both of his shoulders for support as he knelt down and took on the difficult job of trying to peel off my wet pants.

  “For the record,” he said, looking up at me with a crooked smile, “this is not how I pictured removing your pants for the first time.”

  “That confident, are we?”

  His smile filled out, deep and brimming with humor. “When something is this inevitable. Yes.”

  I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. I pulled one leg free and then the other.

  He tossed my wet pants into the pile with the rest of my soiled clothes, then turned back and froze. “You’re wearing SpongeBob underwear.”

  Shit.

  My gaze flew downward and my mortification was finally complete. “Emma got them for me … for my birthday.” What the hell. Might as well get it over with. I turned around. “Patrick is on my ass.”

  God, it was so ridiculous. I glanced over my shoulder to see him grinning like a damn fool. Our laughter came at the same time, his rich and easy and mine scratchy and hoarse. When it died, we stood there in an odd moment when comfort and tension seemed to exist in tandem.

  “I can take off the voice-mod, Charlie.” His voice dropped. “I can make you feel better with a word.”

  A hot flush burst low in my belly. The steam from the shower was taking all the oxygen out of the room. Or maybe that was Hank. I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d say. How it would feel. Silly girl. You know exactly how it would feel. And without a doubt I’d like it way too much.

  “No.” The word came out high and broken. I cleared my throat. “I’ll heal. I’ll be fine. I can handle it from here.” I wrapped my arms around my bare midriff, starting to shiver again. “If you want to clean up, you can use the bathroom downstairs. There are clean shirts of Will’s in my closet …”

  “Thanks.” He lingered at the door. “You need help getting into the shower?”

  I shook my head. “Nice try, siren.” He flashed me a grin and tleft the room.

  “You’re not seriously thinking about going through with this. There are three more of those crazy bitches out there,” Rex said in disbelief.

  I spooned another bite of hot tomato and orzo soup with shredded chicken into my mouth, savoring the rich, creamy flavor.

  Thank God for Rex and his cooking skills; by the time I got out of the shower and came downstairs I was ravenous, my stomach leading me right to the Crock-Pot. He must’ve made the soup this morning before going shopping with Emma. They returned while I was the shower. Em had already scarfed down a bowl and was in the backyard with Brim. Hank was just finishing up his second bowl, and Rex was looking pretty pleased with himself—well, except for the sylph bomb I’d just dropped on him.

  I swallowed another bite. “I don’t really see another way, do you? We might’ve been able to wait before, to convince an exorcist outside of the union to come here, but now with the suicides, there isn’t any time.”

  “So we just have to sit around and let them nearly kill you? Three more times?”

  I shrugged, “Well, that’s just it. They’re not going to kill me, Rex. Look, in a couple days, we’ll know. We’ll have our answers.”

  The sylphs were our only option. I’d accept their “gifts” and then somehow they’d work their magic. We’d know if Bryn was in danger and which ash victims to protect. And if Titus Mott hurried his genius ass up and found a cure for ash, the danger for all of them would be over. Then I could concentrate on tearing down Grigori Tennin and the Sons of Dawn for good.

  Hank pushed his bowl away and leaned back in the chair. “Good soup, Rex.”

  I snagged a chunk of chicken with my sp
oon, about to agree, when Rex turned abruptly in his chair and faced Hank. “So,” he began in a stilted tone, “Charlie and I stopped by your place last night. You weren’t there. Where were you?”

  I froze, feeling like every ounce of blood had drained from my face as I stared wide-eyed at Rex. Just shoot me now. I sank deeper into the chair, wishing I could just keep going. I forced down my bite.

  Emma burst through the back door. “Mom, where did you put the tea tree oil?”

  I blinked, unable to wrap my mind around her question. Rex threw a casual glance over his shoulder. “It’s in the junk drawer.” And then his eyes were back on Hank, brow lifted high and waiting.

  Em rooted around the last drawer beneath the kitchen counter. “I want to try it on Brim’s elbow …” She found the oil and shut the drawer and went back to the door, waving behind her. “Carry on, old people.”

  Silence greeted us after she left.

  Hank was still leaning back in the chair, looking completely at ease. “I was out.” He cocked his head at Rex and then folded his arms over his chest.

  “It’s no big deal. I just wanted to check on you,” I said, glaring at Rex as I gathered the empty bowls. “It’s none of our business.”

  I was hoping Hank would elaborate anyway, but he remained quiet as I set the bowls on the kitchen counter and then opened the dishwasher.

  “I was out,” Hank finally answered. “Shopping.”

  I turned. “Shopping?”

  Em came in at that moment to put the oil back. “There, maybe that’ll grow some hair on that elbow.”

  Hank rocked back in the chair, looking particularly amused. One corner of his mouth turned up. “Christmas presents.”

  I frowned, not expecting that answer, while Emma went instantly on alert, her expression like that of a prairie dog that had just popped up out of its hole.

  “If you hadn’t noticed,” he continued, “I missed Christmas.” Hank dug in his pocket and tossed Emma the car keys. “They’re in the trunk.”

  “Figures.” Rex rolled his eyes and got up. “I’m hitting the john,” he muttered.