Kelly Gay - The Darkest Edge of Dawn

Her head lifted and she looked over her shoulder, her eyes red and puffy, red dots on her cheeks, her lips swollen and wet. She turned back around and wept, her shoulders shaking. I didn’t want to step forward. Didn’t want to see who was lying there.

But I knew. I already knew.

My friend. My teacher. The nymph with the emerald eyes and beautiful green aura.

His hands were bloody and scratched, obvious signs of a struggle he didn’t win. His body was sunken like Daya’s, laid flat out on the terrace. My fingers flexed around my Hefty and I raised my hand, using the back of it to wipe at my tears.

Hank brushed passed me, his weapon dropping to his side as his expression paled. My head was shaking in denial. Aaron was not dead. It couldn’t be. Not like this. I sank to my knees, letting my weapon go limp on the stone, still holding it in my hand, and doubling over to let my forehead hit the cold terrace, trying to hold in the scream of rage, loss, and guilt.

“No … no … Goddammit!” I cried to no one, letting my anger out in maddening groans of protest. I had to do something. Had to work. Had to move. I rose, wanting justice for my friend, for a good person who hadn’t deserved to die like this.

I grabbed my gun, dragging it along the stone as I stood, my insides shriveling into a tight, searing, breathless knot.

“What happened, Bryn?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Her wide, aching, confused gaze met mine. “I don’t know …”

“You don’t know ? How the fuck can you not know?! How did you get here?! Did you see it happen?! Did you try to help at all or did you just stand there and say I don’t know?! ” I was shaking hard, crying, tasting the tears on my lips.

Bryn’s skin paled and a look of pure mortification passed over her.

“Charlie,” Hank said.

“What?!” I shouted, throwing up my hands and then turning to my sister. “How long have you been up here? Have you called the paramedics?”

“Charlie, that’s enough.”

Deep down, I knew it was more than enough, but hurt was flooding out of me so fast that I didn’t know how to stop it or make sense of it. I turned away, storming to the terrace ledge, grabbing onto the railing and finally letting it out, screaming until I had nothing left, until my voice went useless, my throat burned, my lungs nearly collapsing.

I had to save Aaron. He couldn’t be dead. He was supposed to live a long life, convince Bryn to love him as he loved her. Someone in my family was supposed to have a happily ever after, for Christ’s sake. I stretched back from the railing and leaned down, letting my head fall in between my arms as I held on tightly. “We have to fix this,” I whispered and then turned, saying it louder. “We have to fix this.”

Hank closed his cell phone, and Bryn looked up from her vigil at Aaron’s side. “The medics are on their way. Liz is coming, too, and the chief.”

“He doesn’t need a goddamn medic! He needs help! He needs us !”

Bryn sniffed. “What are you saying?”

“Black crafting. Earth magic. Whatever we need to do to save this body and keep it fresh …” The two of them looked at me like I’d finally lost it. “Llyran is collecting their life forces into that damn ring. If we find the sonofabitch, take the ring, and get Aaron’s life force back into his body, then maybe we can save him. Bring him back.” I stilled, realizing just how insane that sounded. “He’d do the same for any one of us.”

Bryn wiped her wet face with her arm and nodded. Her shoulder trembled. Her mouth went tight, trying to stop herself from bursting into tears once more. “I didn’t do this, Charlie.” Her bottom lip trembled, and I could see the horror she faced, not knowing how they came to be here, what part she played. “I couldn’t have. I love him.”

“I know.” I shook my head in regret and sorrow, hugging her. “I know.”

“Can’t we spell his body so it won’t deteriorate?” I asked.

“That’s death magic, black crafting,” Bryn answered. “You’re going against the laws of nature, not working with them.”

Okay, so my sister’s knowledge was out. I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter and watched the activity over Hank’s shoulder. The medics were putting Aaron’s body into a cold bag to slow the death process. The chief stood over them, issuing orders, and occasionally shaking his head.

“I can reanimate a corpse,” Liz said, “but I don’t have the knowledge to get the soul back inside, or spell a body to keep it in stasis. I think we need a Master black crafter for that.” She glanced around the room. “You guys must know someone, right?”

Since black crafting was technically illegal, most practitioners performed in secret. There was only one Master Crafter I knew, and from the uncomfortable way Hank and Bryn were looking at me, they knew just who I was thinking about.

The woman I commonly referred to as The Bitch.

The chief barreled through the sliding glass doors, pushing them wide so the paramedics could remove Aaron’s body. Silently we watched them roll him out. For a long moment, no one spoke as the chief sidled up to the counter on the other side of Liz, sighing heavily and sitting on one of the stools.

“She won’t help us,” I said. Not since I fractured her jaw with a fury-packed right hook.

“Who won’t help?” the chief asked.

Bryn gave him a knowing look. “The O.W.”

That was the thing about being beaten to death by a ghoul hired by the Master Crafter who had slept with my husband and ruined my marriage—everyone ended up knowing all of the sordid details.

A frown pulled the chief’s eyebrows together. “What the hell is an O.W.?”

“The other woman,” Bryn said quietly.

I ignored the slack jaw on the chief’s blustery face. “She’s not going to help. She tried to have me killed, remember? You think she’s going to suddenly forget that I punched her in the face for sleeping with Will and just let bygones be bygones?”

The last thing I wanted to do was revisit Will’s addiction to black crafting and the woman who had taught him, spent time with him, and ultimately rose to his challenge one night when he boasted he’d become too skilled to be coerced by anyone. She’d had him in bed and breaking his marriage oath with the snap of her fingers. And the night she ordered my execution was the night Mynogan and Titus saved my life and altered my DNA. All because of lies and deception. Years’ and years’ worth. It was a wound that I didn’t think would ever heal—that sting of betrayal from someone who claims to love you …

“What about Rex?” Hank suggested. I met his gaze before he glanced away, but I saw in that brief look that he’d seen my hurt and was redirecting me back to the task at hand. “Will was a crafter. He’d gotten pretty good if he went up against the Bitch herself. Maybe Rex can access his knowledge …”

I shook my head. “No. Revenants only have access to the short term memory, and when that fades, that’s it.”

“So we’re going to need a Master Crafter and a necromancer,” Bryn said. “One to keep Aaron’s physical body in stasis and one to reanimate him when the time comes. The soul, though, must go back by itself. We can’t force it. But once it’s back, Aaron’s natural healing process should kick in and repair any damage.”

“Can we bring someone over from Charbydon?” I asked the chief.

“Lots of red tape and travel time, Charlie.”

“Okay,” I muttered, releasing the counter. “I guess it’s her, then.” She’d surely make us pay for the favor. “And I’ll go. She needs to know up front I’m involved. I don’t want her finding out when she gets to the station and then backing out.”