Kelly Gay - The Darkest Edge of Dawn

This was the site where the warring genes in my body converged, melded, came together in one cohesive, perfect moment. Did I know that for certain? No. But it had felt like it. Thinking back on it, I was pretty certain Mynogan’s ritual was what gave me that sense of oneness. I’d heard the drumbeats in my mind and body. I’d been thrown back to a time so ancient it felt like the beginning of time itself, and in that moment I was whole, not fractured like I’d felt before or after.

So, yeah, I thought, looking up at the darkness moving slowly overhead, this was my place, my … creation.

I was an hour and a half late for dinner, but I came home decompressed and back on track. And after I ate and showered, I planned to log on to the ITF database and pull Llyran’s file. My footsteps echoed on the porch steps of my Candler Park bungalow, my stomach taking note of the warm spices leaking from the open window. The tap, tap, tap of claws on wood sounded beyond the door as I reached for the knob, preparing myself for yet another odd night at the Madigan home.

Brimstone greeted me from a distance, in the center of the hallway. His hairless gray body was still as his red eyes assessed me. His ears were up this time, instead of pinned back against his thick skull like usual, but his throat rumbled with uncertainty as he held his ground.

He shouldn’t be in the house. But then again, if Rex hadn’t routinely gone against my rules and let him inside to begin with, his scent wouldn’t have been on me earlier when the pregnant hellhound attacked, and I’d be just another body in the debris pile.

I sighed, ignoring the beast and removing my jacket, which desperately needed a trip to the cleaners after today, placing it, along with my weapons harness, on the rack inside the closet door. Brim sniffed the air behind me, no doubt scenting the female despite my dragon bath at the Grove and changing my shirt at Bryn’s. The smell was in my hair, on my jeans, probably on my boots.

“Brim! Come!” Will’s voice called from the kitchen, followed by a quick whistle.

The beast’s massive head turned for a quick second, and I could see his indecision. I pointed down the hall and took a step forward. “Go. Go on.”

He didn’t move. Another slow growl issued from his throat and he leaned back, bracing himself, his giant front paws spreading as they slid forward on the hardwood floor. The dark gray skin blended into the dimness of the hall, making his red eyes stand out.

“Move it,” I ordered, deeper, snapping my fingers and continuing forward. He turned tail and loped his tiger-sized body toward the light of the kitchen. “I’m going to turn him into a doggie popsicle if he doesn’t cut it out,” I said loudly, approaching the kitchen.

Rex stood at the sink, wiping his hand on a dish towel. He wore my ex-husband’s old State T-shirt. Loose jeans hung low on his hips, and his feet were bare. A defeated sense of loneliness and sorrow spread across my chest and squeezed.

It was hell sometimes—those first glances after a long day or after getting up in the morning. Seeing the body of my ex-husband walking around, his expressions, his smiles, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the deep southern drawl in his voice when he spoke …

There were moments, brief flashes, where I’d forget that a Revenant, a spirit entity, was in control, and I’d just see Will Garrity there—tall, athletic, and always with the smile that could melt snow.

Those moments hurt the most, and I tried not to let it show—how much I missed the real Will, and how much his decision to barter his body and soul to Rex, whatever the reason, had hurt. No matter what, no matter if we found a way to bring Will back, I knew now that it would never work, me and him. This final betrayal had broken the thin link between us.

“Hey, Charlie.” Rex turned around, bracing both hands on the sink ledge behind him.

“Brim is supposed to be in the kennel.” I snagged a water from the fridge and cracked it open, giving myself a moment to regroup before I turned back around. “That was the deal. I pay six hundred dollars for a reinforced mini version of Alcatraz, and you keep him in the kennel. Do you remember that at all?”

Brim had parked himself at Rex’s side, his jaw resting easily on the granite countertop as Rex patted his bald head. Was I the only one who got grossed out by the slobber trail on the countertops?

“Well, that was just in the beginning, Charlie. It’s cruel and unusual punishment to keep him back there all by himself when we’re in here. He wants to be with us. We’re his pack.”

I leaned against the edge of the kitchen table, the rim of the water bottle paused at my lips. “His pack? That damn thing growls at me again, and he’s on the next transport back to Charbydon.”

Rex shot me a nasty look and let Brimstone out the back door. “He’s not a thing. He’s a hellhound. He has a name.”

I rolled my eyes as he popped the lid to a canister of antibacterial wipes, snagged a sheet, and wiped up the slobber. He chucked it in the trash and then placed one hand on the countertop and one on his hip, frowning expectantly like Will used to do when I’d done something wrong.

“What?” I asked. He huffed in response, waiting for me to magically understand his problem. So I took a wild guess. “Um … sorry I’m late?”

An impressive snort came out of his mouth and his eyes rolled. “You’re always late—that’s why I always start dinner an hour after you say you’re going to be home.” Rex’s eyes grew round and exasperated as I still had no clue. “The garlic? The tomatoes? I asked you to get a few things …” He marched to the oven to check on dinner. The smell that erupted was wonderful. Lasagna or baked ziti, I guessed. “You know, I work all day long in this house and the least you can do is remember when I call.”

I heard the footsteps on the stairs and bit back my reply, waiting for Emma to come around the corner and into the kitchen. The mini bowling ball in her hands was a surprise. “Oh, hey, Mom.”

I stopped her as she passed, pushing her long, wavy bangs back to kiss her forehead. “What’s with the bowling ball?”

“It’s Brim’s. He’s torn up the other dog balls we got and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I stepped back. “You’ve been playing ball with the hellhound?”

I turned a murderous gaze on Rex as he pulled on oven mitts. “Well, they get along great,” he muttered in defense, knowing I was about to go nuclear.

“Mom …” Emma started in a tone that said she knew it, too, but I didn’t let her finish.

“No, Emma. I don’t care how great you get along. He’s a hellhound. They are trained to kill. They’re born with the instinct. I was attacked by one today—”

“You were? Did you hurt it?”

“What? No, I had her sent back to Charbydon.”

“Mom! That place is dying and—”

“How do you know their moon is dying?”

“Don’t you ever watch TV? And it’s not really a moon. Everyone just calls it that; it’s more like a white dwarf star. Or that’s the theory anyway. And now we have to do some stupid science report at school … Everyone has to come up with a hypothesis on how to …” She shook her head, realizing she was getting off track. “Sooner or later, someone’s going to have to go in there and rescue all those poor animals anyway. You should’ve brought her home. We could’ve set up another kennel next to Brim.”

I blinked, wondering if my daughter had lost her mind. Or maybe whatever the hell made Rex such a kook was catching. “This isn’t a hellhound sanctuary, Em. You can’t trust them. You turn your back on Brim for one second or look at him the wrong way, and he’ll remember he’s not Fluffy the Dog, but a killer, and I don’t want you to be in his path when he does.” I fired a hard look at Rex. “It stays in the kennel.”