Kelly Gay: Shadows Before the Sun

I had to leave tomorrow, and I hated the idea of leaving Killian’s case in the hands of someone else. But nothing short of a family emergency would stop me from bringing Hank home. The siren wasn’t only my partner; he was my family, too, the person who’d had my back from day one. Hank and I . . . we’d grown from partners to friends to something more, something that felt like it had real possibilities. But fate seemed hell-bent on keeping us from figuring out exactly what those possibilities were.

I found Rex in the temple courtyard, reclining back on a chaise lounge, eyes closed, ankles crossed, and hands tucked behind his head.

He’s a work in progress, I told myself in a rare moment of optimism.

Drawing in a steadying breath to get my mind back on task, I nudged Rex’s feet off the side of the lounge with my boot. “Stop goofing off, we have work to do.”

His eyes cracked open. “I have decided I want a consultant fee.”

My brow lifted. Rex actually bringing home a paycheck? Now that would be a novelty I’d welcome. “I’ll submit a request to the chief. Come on, we have work to do.”

I led Rex to the shore of the lake where Liz was making her first necromantic pass over the body, trying to pick up any residual traces of crafting or imprints on the body. If the perp was a crafter, she’d be able to tell. Her hand moved over his torso, palm down, a couple inches over the body. Her glossy black bob was tucked behind both ears, allowing me to see the frown pulling down her mouth.

I dropped onto my haunches on Killian’s other side. “Anything?”

Using her knuckle, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Nothing. The water doesn’t help.” Her gaze turned to Rex. “You sure he can pick up something?”

Rex scoffed. “He’s sure.”

Liz didn’t bother hiding her dubious expression. But she stood and stepped back from the body. “No touching.”

“Don’t need to. I can tell you already, there wasn’t a jinn around this guy.”

Liz folded her arms over her chest. “Just like that.”

“Just like that.”

“And how does that work, exactly?”

Rex shrugged. “Like any other animal that can scent their own kind. If a jinn fought with him, I’d be able to tell.”

And if Killian had been killed by a jinn, there was no doubt in my mind he would’ve put up one hell of a fight. A jinn scent would be all over him, water or not.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” Liz cast a glare over at the dock where Pen made no secret about watching our every move. “You think you can keep His Highness off my back for a couple days?”

“I’ll try. But give him a break. He’s lost two of his own in the last few weeks. I’m taking Rex over to where Pen saw Killian being thrown into the water. Keep me posted.”

“As always. Who’s going to take point on this when you leave tomorrow? And please, please, please don’t say Ashton.”

“Okay, I won’t.” At her look, I apologized. “Sorry, I know he rubs you the wrong way, too. If I had my way, it would be Thompson or Lesley, but they’re both up to their eyeballs in the crap Tennin’s been pulling lately in Underground—small-time stuff, I know, but I think it’s the jinn boss’s idea of breaking them in.”

“Naw, I think ole GT just misses you and wants you back patrolling Underground as usual, so he’s making a fuss.”

I chuckled at that. “Right. I’ll get the chief to brief Ashton and tell him to tone it down and not push so many buttons with the Kinfolk and Pen. Tensions will be running high enough already . . .”

Liz resumed her necromantic check over Killian’s body as Rex wandered to the shoreline. “Well, it sucks you have to leave at a time like this, but thank God you’re going in to get Hank. The thought of him being in that grid . . . How do you think talks will go?”

“In our favor, I hope. The delegates have been there for two days already, so let’s pray they’ve made some progress. I’d like to have the way cleared for Titus to work on releasing Hank from the grid.”

“Nice having the most famous scientist in the world on your side.” Liz called over her shoulder for a body bag. “You’ll bring him home,” she told me, sounding certain. She stood. “Then you two can finally stop hedging.”

“Hedging?”

She gave me that smart-ass look of hers, which I returned in kind. “It means stop being a chickenshit and take a chance. You and Hank are good for each other. God knows you deserve some happiness.” Her apprentice/assistant returned with a bag. I hadn’t seen him for a couple months, but he still looked ten years old to me.

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Hi, Elliot. How’s middle school treating you?”

His grin went deep. “Haha.” He rolled his eyes and moved to help Liz with the bag.

I stared down at Killian, sobering. “Take care of my friend here.”

“We will,” Liz said. “Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

Rex and I made our way around the lake. It took longer than it should have due to the docks, temples, and homes we had to go around. The shore where Killian had most likely died was already taped off and a couple of uniformed officers and Kinfolk were walking in a grid pattern over the ground, looking for any evidence that might have dropped to the soft cushion of grass and leaves.

Signs of the fight were everywhere along this portion of the wooded shoreline. Deep ruts had been torn into the ground. A few branches on the trees were broken. Blood splatters . . . Killian had put up a damned good fight—as to be expected from one of the Druid King’s enforcers.

“Anything?” I asked Rex.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know what the Druid saw, but it wasn’t a jinn. If there was any signature, it would be here of all places.”

Which was an enormous relief. But now we were left back at square one.

“You can always get a rogue jinn in here for a second opinion,” Rex said, mistaking my silence as questioning his ability.

“Do I need a second opinion?”

“No. Just thought it might make you feel better. I’m gonna walk around a little bit.”

“All right. Go slow. And watch your step. If you see anything that shouldn’t be here—footprints, clothing, trash, anything—call out, don’t touch it.”

“I got it. No touching.”

As he walked off I asked, “You need a flashlight?”

He smiled over his shoulder, shook his head, and then continued into the darkness of the woods. Guess he had his jinn night vision back as well.

Alone now, I moved slowly toward the water. Even though beams of flashlights darted through the trees and small sounds from the officers reached me, I suddenly felt very isolated. Even the temperature felt colder than it had seconds ago. The sounds of the city beyond and the activity from across the lake faded into the background, making the lapping of the water against the shore louder.

The marks on my right arm ached—a weird stinging burn, the intensity coming and going. I stopped, the toes of my boots inches from the water, wondering if it was because I was so close to Ahkneri and her divine weapon—the thing had nearly burned my hand and arm to a crisp, leaving behind the strange markings that Aaron, the Magnus mage, believed to be the language of the First Ones.

Well, the language fucking hurt.

I kneaded my forearm, trying to find some relief as I stared at the dark lake and the city lights reflecting off its surface like a million tiny gems. If I listened hard enough Ahkneri’s ancient whispers would become clearer. If I let my guard down I could hear more than her. I could hear strangers, bits and pieces of conversations that meant nothing to me, that just seemed to filter in like I was some sort of transistor radio. Occasionally my reality would really screw up and things I shouldn’t be able to see through or into, I suddenly could.