Kelly Gay - The Better Part of Darkness

In one smooth motion, I yanked my arm away, braced my fist into the palm of my other hand for added force, and then sent my elbow flying back into his nose. “Fuck you.” The sickening crack of bone filled me with satisfaction. They fell for that move every time.

Foul, thick fury erupted fast behind me. I spun and braced for his attack, but the jinn froze, his irises burning violet-red hatred. A quick glance over my shoulder showed Mynogan with his hand up. I cocked a triumphant eyebrow at the jinn despite the danger and the retribution he promised me as he backed away.

“Detective,” Mynogan began in a smooth voice so evil it crawled up my skin like a handful of scattering roaches. “I suggest you cooperate with us. Certain loved ones’ lives may be at risk.”

Time stopped as my heart dropped to the floor.

A blink later, white flame erupted inside of me, searing every nerve and cell, every pore and fingertip, clouding my vision and vibrating through my eardrums.

Then, my world came abruptly back into focus. How dare he threaten them! The heat burned. I was on fire, like in my nightmare. Didn’t matter. I had control of this power, whatever it was. And damned if he’d harm my loved ones. Instinctively I gathered it, amassing it until I was about to burst with it, then I sent it out like a whip straight for Mynogan.

A gale force wave lit by blue flame arced across the room, leaving a bitter cold void in its place. I shuddered as the power surged into him.

The only assault on his person was the wind moving his white hair. My mouth dropped open. He had absorbed my blow. His pupils glowed red and his aura grew in blackness.

Figures.

I braced, no time for anything else, as he returned the favor without blinking an eye or moving a muscle in his fancy suit. The power hit me so hard it sent me flying through the plate-glass viewing mirror and into the hard, tiled floor. I slid across tile and broken glass, slamming into the far wall.

Wracking pain flared through my skull and back. Gasping for breath and fighting a blackout, I tried to push myself up, to ready myself for the next attack. The iron-rich scent of my own blood mixed with the sudden aroma of Bryn’s flowery herbal conditioner as my hair fell loose around my face and shoulders. I’d hit the wall so hard, the rubber band in my hair had snapped. I was cut everywhere. My hands, arms, even through the jeans. Warm trails of liquid red ran down my face and neck. It hurt so badly, I couldn’t move.

You should’ve absorbed your own power back instead of letting it hit you, a voice echoed in my mind.

I shook my head and blinked hard a few times, unsure of whether I was imagining things or that voice was somehow real. The only thing I was certain of was that I had to get up. Now. Holding my breath, I pushed my weight off the floor using the wall at my back. Glass cut into my palms. I let out a groan and slid back down the wall. The room spun around me. My stomach clenched. Don’t throw up. Please, don’t throw up.

Footsteps raced around the corner, shoes crunching on glass. Mott slid down beside me. “Charlie, Charlie, can you hear me?” He patted my face as I tried to focus on him. His touch hurt.

“Get away from me,” I managed to slur.

“I’m not a traitor,” he whispered quickly. “I didn’t know this was what he wanted. I was only trying—”

“To what? Get people, our people, hooked on ash ?”

Mott frowned as one of the jinn pulled him to his feet. “What?”

“Amanda,” I forced out, panting through the pain, “giving drugs to children. No wonder you’re in with these guys. You fit right in.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He struggled against the jinn holding him.

“Go ask your brother. He’s been using Mott Tech to manufacture ash . That’s why your niece is in the hospital right now. She took drugs made from your lab.” It was conjecture, but I didn’t care.

Titus’s face paled, and his eyes held the realization that I was probably telling the truth. That his brother was a drug-addicted loser who had crossed the line into being an enabler to the entire city. His Adam’s apple slid up and down slowly. And the only thing he could do was nod.

Through the opening where the glass had once been, I could see Carreg arguing furiously with Mynogan. He wasn’t happy. Neither of them. Power stirred in the room, and I knew then that my power was nothing compared to these two ancient beings.

I let my head slump against the wall. Carreg turned to me for a brief second, his inky blue eyes seeming to burn brighter. Stupid human, heal yourself!

What the hell? I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. His voice was imperious and impatient in my head. Just as quickly as he glanced at me, he was back arguing with Mynogan. Either I’d hit my head too hard or he was communicating with me telepathically.

Why would he help me? Who cares! Just do it! This time, the voice was my own. I closed my eyes and searched inside for power. There was none. I was empty and cold.

Try again, Carreg commanded. Find goodness, not anger.

Again, I squeezed my eyelids shut and concentrated, eventually grabbing on to the image of my family, of the good things in my life. Of Emma. Sweet Emma. Her face swam in my mind. Her goofy laugh. Her tough façade. Her hugs and kisses. The overwhelming love I had for her. It stirred in me like a real entity, just like the power I had drawn upon in my anger. But this didn’t hurt, didn’t blind me. This was comforting and cool.

Granted, I didn’t know what to do with it, but what the hell. I was out of options. I drew in a deep breath and then imagined sending the power to every part of my body, urging it, asking it to heal, to energize, to work on my bones and cuts and bruises. Almost immediately, a peaceful glow lit me on the inside as wonderful energy sang through me. It swelled my chest. I gasped and opened my eyes, tingling everywhere. I flexed my bloody fingers, the deep cuts and scratches not stinging and burning as badly as before.

Slowly, I shoved the loose hair from my vision and pushed to my feet, still feeling a hum at work, feeling like I was floating. Amazing. I glanced at my feet to make sure they were still on the ground. They were. I shifted my gaze to my hands and arms. The cuts were healing, though I still felt like roadkill. I caught Mott’s astonished gape and asked, “What did you do to me?”

His shoulders slumped suddenly and regret covered his face. “I saved your life.”

Footsteps ground glass into tile. Mynogan and Carreg came around the corner. “We both did,” Mynogan said, flicking a piece of glass off his lapel. The guy had a serious case of OCD when it came to his clothes.

The pain in my body was fading fast, my senses and strength returning. “You both did,” I echoed in disbelief, trying to stall another round of punishment as long as I could.

“Oh, surely, some part of you remembers that night. Dying. Your soul leaving. The good doctor, here, coming in. Me, stroking your hair, comforting you.” No. “The needle in your vein. Any of it, perhaps, ring a bell, Detective?”

He was trying to psych me out and enjoying every malicious minute of it. I shook my head violently, my gaze desperately searching for the truth and landing on Mott, who studied the floor in front of him. “What was in it?” I cringed at the desperation in my voice. “What was in the needle?”

No one spoke.

“WHAT WAS IN THE FUCKING NEEDLE?!” My scream bounced off the walls.

“Go ahead, tell her, Titus,” Mynogan prompted, humor lighting the black of his eyes like fire on obsidian.