Kelly Gay: The Better Part of Darkness

And the existence of God and an afterlife was as unclear to them as it was to us.

The friend or foe debate continued on as usual, but no longer to the point of nuclear war. Eventually, delegations from all sides met, peace treaties were signed, and laws and policies were put into place.

We’d become the promised land for countless off-worlders, many of whom resided in several of our major cities. New York. Miami. Los Angeles. Houston. And the first off-world city, Atlanta.

“Is that the walking dead I see?” a sandpaper voice called from the shadows.

I stopped on the sidewalk as Auggie stepped from the darkness of the old maps-and-bookbinding store. “What are you doing up here?” I’d known him for so long that his slow, raspy voice, grayish-green skin, long, narrow face, and large hooked nose stopped giving me the willies years ago. “The pawnshop finally kick you off their curb?”

He shrugged, his hollowed face pinched in annoyance for a moment. “Something like that.”

“Walk with me, Auggie.” I turned and ambled down the brick pavement. He fell in step beside me. He was my height; at five-eight that was tall for a goblin. Goblin was what we called his kind here. Every being from Elysia and Charbydon had their own race-names, but their languages were so complicated and difficult to pronounce, we’d given them terms that had been around in our own language for centuries, ones that seemed to fit their appearances and powers. And to their credit, they didn’t seem to mind. Hell, most of them, after years of visiting us in secret, already knew how to speak our tongue before they’d been granted official visas, work permits, or permanent citizenship.

Like us, the Elysians and Charbydons had different races and ranks among them—some more powerful than others, some more kind and law-abiding than others, and some more criminal and evil than others. But they all had their weaknesses, weaknesses we, as humans, could (and had to) exploit. And I knew Auggie’s weakness all too well.

“I know why you’re here,” he grated slowly.

Thanks to the media, I thought. “So, what can you tell me?”

His breath came fast, and his mouth parted to reveal a blunt set of yellow teeth. He wrung his slender hands together in anticipation. “What do you have for me?”

Always prepared, I handed him a crisp hundred from my back pocket.

He snatched the bill and held it to his wide nostrils, breathing in deeply. His body shuddered. “Wonderful scent, this one. Is it new?”

“Brand-new. Never been in circulation.” That always got him worked up. “So?”

He shoved the beloved bill into his pocket, stopping between two storefronts, edging back into the shadows. “Well, I can tell you this. What you’ve been seeing over the past week is only the beginning, Charlie Madigan, only the beginning.” He gave a nervous laugh.

His black pupils dilated and the dingy yellow surrounding them flashed as he glanced anywhere but at me. “And that’s about all I can tell you.” He opened his coat, hands shaking, and changed the subject. “You wanna buy a spell? For you, I give you half price.” Vials of colored liquids and powders hung from small hooks beneath his coat. “Love, sex, happiness, wealth, I got it all right here, see. How about beauty? I got that, too.” He paled. “Oh, I mean, not that you need it. Fuck. No, you don’t need it. I just meant …” Sweat beaded his thin upper lip and ran down the bony sides of his face.

“I know what you meant,” I said, stepping closer to him. “What the hell has got you spooked, Auggie? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He stepped back, his eyes bulging and the yellow flashing again as they darted around. “No, not this time. No. Sorry. No can do.”

I grabbed his wool coat by the collar. The vials clinked against each other like wind chimes in a sudden breeze. “Auggie, two people have died. There are over twenty in the hospital right now.” My voice dropped. “I have a sixteen-year-old kid lying comatose on a goddamn bathroom floor. A kid . You want that on your conscience? You want to obstruct the law? ’Cause I can promise you you’ll be on the next transport back to Charbydon if you don’t.”

“How about a holding cell?” He gave another nervous laugh. “Charbydon … it’s too dark there now, not even an inch of moonlight.” He gulped. “I can’t, Charlie. I can’t tell you more.”

All I could think about was Emma, the promise I had made, and Amanda, the young girl I’d come to care about. “I swear to God,” I forced out between tight lips, “don’t make me beat it out of you, Auggie.” I wasn’t serious in my threat, but the urge was there. Stronger than it had ever been before.

A wave of dizziness rolled over me, followed by a sudden rush of bloodlust, ballooning, pushing against my chest, wanting to escape. I blinked hard, shocked. God, it hurt. I couldn’t catch my breath.

Steady, Charlie. It was getting harder and harder to control my emotions lately. Maybe because I hadn’t slept through the night since I’d recovered from dying.

I dropped my hold on Auggie’s coat, stumbled back, and leaned down, both hands on my knees, trying to regroup and settle myself, trying to breathe.

“You ain’t right,” Auggie said softly. “You ain’t right at all. You ever think what happened to you may have—”

Fire shot through me. My eyes snapped open, and I grabbed him by the throat and propelled him into the brick wall, lifting him clear off his feet. “Not. Another. Word.” My nostrils flared. My voice sounded different. Strength flowed through me—so great that I knew if I wanted, I could snap his neck without effort or shove him clean through the brick wall. Part of me wanted that.

What the hell? No. Calm down.

“Start talking, Auggie, ’cause I don’t know … how long I can … hold out.”

He nodded rapidly. I let him slide down the wall until his feet touched the concrete. My hold on his throat lessened, but just enough to allow him to speak. I was shaking hard and confused beyond belief. But getting information was all that mattered right now. I’d figure the rest out later.

“They’re calling it ash .”

“I know that. What else? What is it?”

“It comes from some kind of flower in Charbydon, that’s all I know.”

“Who’s dealing it?”

“Just some guys. Dealers, I guess. They’re testing it out, giving it to junkies, other dealers … If you overdose, it does the same thing on the eyes, no matter who you are or where you’re from.”

I squeezed harder. Auggie’s eyes bulged. “Who? I need a name, a place.”

His body stilled, and his terrified gaze froze over my left shoulder. “Oh, fuck.” The color drained from his face, leaving him a washed-out shade of seasick green.

I followed his gaze to see three jinn warriors striding toward us. They were tall, built like linebackers, and wore heavy black sunglasses to shield their sensitive eyes. Their dark gray skin, like soot from a fireplace, was as smooth as polished marble. Their mouths were grim, and they walked with purpose. For thousands of years they held a position of honor in Charbydon as bodyguards to the nobles. Damn.

Auggie began to shake. I released him and took a step back, my hand going to my Nitro-gun.

They stopped in front of us, all of them at least six-four and as menacing as a pack of hungry jackals.

“Hey, fellas,” Auggie said in broken falsetto, “just let me finish with the lady here.” He turned to me, his desperation almost tangible in the air between us. “What was that you wanted, ma’am? A love spell, right?” The vials rattled from his trembling as he opened the coat. He didn’t give me a vial, but slipped a pack of matches into my hand. “There you go.”