The Hour of Dust and Ashes (31 page)

I plopped down, pulling my feet in and snuggling into the cushy vee where the arm and the back of the couch met.

Rex turned down the volume and then angled his body to face me. “What the hell happened back there, Charlie?”

I didn’t even know if the tale would come. It took a long time for me to answer, to find the right words, the right state of mind. I found neither. “He wanted to leave,” I finally said.

Saying those quiet words out loud gave the whole thing a sense of finality. It felt like a fist squeezed my heart. “The sylphs’ gifts … they allowed me to see him. I held his hand. Pulled him out. He wanted to go, said he wouldn’t come back normal.” I rubbed a hand down my face and let out a loud sigh. “I don’t know if I did the right thing.”

I glanced to the ceiling. Above. Where my kid slept happy and content. My throat thickened. I shook my head. “How am I going to tell her?”

I couldn’t do it. How did I look her in the eye and tell her Dad was gone? A tear slipped out. Rex moved over the cushions and slipped an arm around me, pulling me into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

My head fell against his shoulder. I turned into him, trying to hold out, but it was a losing battle. The floodgates opened. And I grieved for the loss of my ex-husband. He was gone. He was never coming back.

Rex held me, rubbing my back, kissing the top of my head, and giving me a supportive squeeze every now and again.

By the time I finally sat up, my face was swollen and hot. I couldn’t breathe, my nasal passages were blocked, and my head pounded.

Rex reached over the couch and grabbed a tissue from the box on the sofa table. He handed it over, watching me for a while, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

“What?” I finally asked.

“I know you and Em wanted me to stay because Will was still here.” He paused, gazing at the television without focus. “But now … Do you want me to leave?”

A half laugh, half sob escaped. I shook my head. “No. You definitely cannot leave us.”

Frustration tightened his jaw. “Why? Because I look like him? It’s just me now. He’s gone. You have to understand. Em has to understand. I can never
be
him.”

I glanced down at the ball of tissue in my hands, unwinding it to fold it over and over again until it was a tiny square. I drew in a deep inhale. “I know, Rex. Even when you tried to be him, you couldn’t. Emma will understand. She loves you, you know. Not just because you look like him. She’ll understand …”

His lips thinned. The muscles in his jaw flexed, and he ran a hand down his rugged face. Tension and emotions swirled around him. He scanned the room before settling his attention back on me. “And you?”

My sad grin widened a little. “I’m getting there. But,” I pointed out, “
only
in a platonic way.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t have to kick me when I’m down.” But I knew he wasn’t serious. Rex was well aware I’d never have a thing for him, and I was pretty sure he was all bluster and would never have a thing for me either. “Speaking of … what the hell happened to Hank back at the station? I saw the sirens …”

I unwound the square and started working on folding it like the flag. “They came to take him home. Apparently they think he’s a traitor. But he’s not. They got it so wrong.”

“You really like him.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement, but I answered anyway. I was answering Rex when I should’ve answered Hank when he’d asked me in Charbydon. “Yes. I really like him.” Him. Not what he was, but who he was. And now I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get the chance to tell him.

A gleam appeared in Rex’s eyes. “So when are we going into Elysia? We’ll probably be banned for life from Charbydon, might as well make it two for two.”

“
We
are not going anywhere.”

“But you are going after him.”

“Of course. I’ll have to talk to the chief, make plans.” And I desperately needed a few hours of sleep if I was going to be any help at all. “When I do go, I’ll need you to stay here with Emma. I won’t know how long it’ll take. And I don’t want to worry about her …” Rex’s blinding grin made me pause. “What are you smiling for?”

“Nothing.” He looked pleased as punch. “Just … you trust me.”

I blinked. “Well, I thought we’d established that a long time ago. Where have you been the last few months? Look, nothing has changed, Rex, except that Will won’t be coming back. I know what you’re made of. You’ve been with us all this time, from the beginning of all this … craziness. I trust you. I know you love my kid.”

Red rose through the scruffy jaw and up over his cheeks. “Blindsided me, that kid,” he joked. “When did that happen?”

I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant even though I wanted to start crying again. “She’s an easy kid to love.” I released a heavy exhale, chuckling as I did. Making light. Trying to hold it together.

“That’s one thing I haven’t done, you know?” Rex parked his elbow on the back of the couch and
rested his head on his hand. “In all my years. In all the bodies I’ve been in …” He stared off into nothing, his mood reflective, his voice quiet. “Didn’t get the chance when I was a jinn either …”

“The chance for what?”

“To be a father.”

Time seemed to stand still in that moment. We didn’t speak. Just stared off into space, unable to look at each other.

I cleared my throat and drew in a stabilizing breath. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m not looking to replace Will, not in that way. But I can still be a father figure. A male presence in her life. I’ve done just about everything I’ve ever wanted to and way more than I could’ve imagined. I’m tired. I want to settle down, be part of something, part of a family.” His eyes narrowed. “And you tell anyone I said all this, I’ll go Chuck Norris on your ass so fast, your head will spin.”

I laughed. “Well, you
were
pretty quick with those chair legs …”

A deep smile brightened his face. Dimples. White teeth. Charming as hell. Just like Will. But never Will again. I sighed.

Get used to it, Charlie.

Rex leaned over and grabbed the afghan from the basket by the side of the couch. “Come on.” He patted his chest and leaned back. “Come to Daddy.”

Oh my God. I shook my head, laughing, crying, and beyond exhausted.

“Rest, Charlie. It’s okay to lean on someone else, you know.” He held out his arm. “Come, come.”

I crawled forward and laid flat on top of him. He let out a suffocated
oomph
and I hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” I whispered, kissed his cheek, and then rolled off of him and onto my feet. “Good night, Rex.”

“Night, Charlie.”

The next morning, Rex and I sat down at the kitchen table.

And we told Emma everything.

To say it was horrible was a severe understatement.

She just stared at us. Blank. Stunned. Unable to process what we told her. It was the longest moment of my life. I heard every bird chirp, every car pass, every tick of the clock in the living room.

It was as though time was suspended for this one cruel moment.

Emma had such an expressive face. Her big brown eyes were so wide, so round, so glassy. They latched onto me, desperate. So desperate. And I held them with my own, reaching across the table to grab her hand.

She didn’t move. Her eyes said everything. Her face was a progression of disbelief, denial, panic, acceptance, and slow, agonizing grief. I watched each phase, feeling it all with her.

Never having done this before, I experienced a moment
of uncertainty—more like panic—but I was trying to be calm and figure out how to comfort her and what to say. But when that first fat tear fell and her face turned red, I went down on my knees in front of her and gathered her into my arms as though she was a toddler, lifted her up, and carried her into the living room. I sat down with her in my lap and held her tightly.

Inside, my heart raced. I fought hard to suppress my emotions, to be there for her, to be strong, and not crack right along with her.

I smoothed her hair, kissed her forehead. My shoulder was already wet with her tears and her cries were loud and keening, like a young child with no inhibitions. The pain that came out of her was raw. I cried so hard that I only saw Rex as a blurry form that sat down beside us. His head rested on the back cushion. He put his hand on her back.

And we stayed like that for what seemed like forever.

I stood on the closed-in front porch, staring out at the soccer field across the street and biting the inside of my cheek. Supper was almost ready and the smells from the kitchen were warm and spicy.

Hank was gone. The chief had confirmed that the sirens passed through the terminal last night before the call went through to stop them. It appeared that Hank had gone willingly. With his badge and law enforcement
credentials, he didn’t need a visa or a permit. He could go wherever he wanted. And he did. He was gone. An entire world away, and no doubt in Fiallan.

I kept trying to convince myself that the Circe wouldn’t put him back into the grid, but who was I kidding? To him, it was a punishment worse than death. To the people of Fiallan it was the best way to achieve their lame idea of justice. Tears pricked my eyes.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Sorry because I couldn’t leave. Not when my kid was grieving, not when she needed me.

We’d stayed on the couch for hours. Then Emma had slept for several more. Now she was awake and in the shower. During her nap, I’d called to check in with Aaron, the chief, Sian, and then with Marti to see how Amanda was doing. The best bit of news, though, was the fact that Sian had been able to fly in an exorcist from Canada, and he’d already started interviewing the
ash
victims. No cure as of yet, but living with an addiction was far easier when you did it without a parasite pulling the strings.

The nobles had yet to show up. And during my conversation with the chief earlier, he said he’d notify me as soon as they came through the gate.

If we could convince the nobles that Bryn had gone into Telmath possessed by Solomon—and we had plenty of witnesses here to attest to that—and stuck to the story about Solomon jumping into the
noble Carreg had killed, then my sister might actually come out of this okay.

I bit down harder on my cheek, crossing my arms over my chest as I watched a couple of teens tossing a football.

My thoughts turned to the shadow creature. After using Nwyvre in the ballroom, it was very clear the creature only showed up when I used my
own
power. Nwyvre was never mine. The last time I used my power had been at the portal in Charbydon. Wherever that thing was now, I knew it’d be back. Going into Fiallan to save Hank was going to require everything I had, and I’d be damned if that creature was going to stand in my way.

I bit the inside of my cheek, wondering if there was a way to thwart the creature’s radar. Maybe I’d pay another visit to the Grove to see if Pendaran had learned anything new. I could pick his brain about his time in Gorsedd with Hank and maybe gain some insight into the sirens of Fiallan.

It wouldn’t hurt to remind him to stay alert, too.

Grigori Tennin was not going to give up the search for the First One.

And with Solomon out of the way, Tennin would step up his plans. He’d continue to wage his battle for control over Charbydon. Or Atlanta. God only knew what his true goal was …

A week later, I walked into Bryn’s shop in Underground. I needed a break after being on Solomon Street all morning, overseeing the search warrant for Darkling Properties and Rentals—it had
finally
come through. The search of property records and files was just one more link we were building in our case against Grigori Tennin.

It was slow and tedious work—countless files to go through, statement after statement from eyewitnesses putting Tennin at Helios Tower on the winter solstice, reports linking him with Mynogan and the drug
ash,
anything to pin down hard evidence of his involvement with the Sons of Dawn. It was like trying to build a case against a mob boss, one with serious connections, wealth, and power—we had one shot to get this right, to accumulate so much evidence
that no judge, no lawyer, and no political envoy could dispute the charges.

The door jingled overhead as I entered and weaved my way around merchandise and stacked bookshelves, heading toward the back counter.

Bryn’s back was to me, auburn hair pulled up in the usual sloppy-romantic twist. Soft murmurs came from her as she gently pruned dead leaves from a strange green plant.

“They’re never going to talk back. You know that, right?”

She turned, suppressing her smile. “Shows how little you know about earth crafting. They
always
talk back.”

God, she looked better. Standing before me was a vibrant, beautiful, feisty, softhearted person with a contagious smile and intelligent copper eyes. An earth mage with a gorgeous green aura layered with Caribbean blues. There was still the cloud of gray due to the
ash
addiction, but she was so much better now that the positives far outweighed the negatives. And she and Aaron had begun talking again. Talking was good. Those two were going to make it, I was sure.