Darkening Dawn: The Lockman Chronicles, #5

The Dusk

One

Everything was going according to plan, until the unicorns started tossing grenades.

The first grenade rolled into the hallway, thumping along the plush red carpet with the gold trim.

Grenade, one of the six agents surrounding Jessie shouted. The black-fatigued group closed in around her. Two of the agents grabbed her by the arms and hauled her back down the hall and around the corner.

The explosion came a second later. Bits of plaster and burning shreds of carpet flew out of the hallway and littered the marble flooring of the mansion’s massive foyer. The boom echoed among the twin columns on either side of the front door. The railing on the curving staircase to the second floor buzzed like a subwoofer pushing too much bass.

One of the agents—Agent Ree, if Jessie remembered right—had his arm stretched across Jessie’s chest, pinning her back against the wall like her mom used to do whenever they came to an abrupt stop in the car, as if her arm could do more than the seat belt. Agent Ree’s arm had a lot more strength than her mom’s, though. In his other hand, Ree held his M-16, barrel pointing up. As the plaster chips and carpet flaps settled to the floor, he squinted his almond-shaped eyes and cocked his head as if listening.

The strap of the helmet they had insisted Jessie wear cut against either side of her jawline, and the plastic cup against her chin felt slick with her sweat. Her flak jacket weighed heavy on her shoulders, but hung loose around her waist, making her feel like a church bell—ding-dong. Apparently, they didn’t make flak jackets sized for fifteen-year-olds. But this was her first aggressive raid, as Wertz called it, since the werewolves killed her dad four months ago. Four months, they gave her, to get over his death while she Returned supernaturals who actually wanted to go home. And four months to get used to not having any of the power she once did. No rapid vampire healing, speed, or strength. No access to the magic. So nothing to protect her in an aggressive raid except for six heavily armed agents with no sense of personal space, an oversized flak jacket, and a helmet that made her look like a walking stick shift.

A voice crackled in Jessie’s ear from the earpiece plugged into it. Wertz, in the van parked outside across the street. What’s happening?

Jessie raised her hand with the mic clipped to her sleeve to answer when the second grenade tumbled out of the hall and onto the marble floor.

Agent Ree shoved Jessie backward along the wall. Her shoulder knocked askew a painting of a majestic-looking unicorn reared up on its back legs, a point of light shining starlike at its horn’s tip. The sky behind it was a swirl of red and blue, like a melted sunrise.

The grenade detonated, the sound thrumming in Jessie’s ears and making them ring. The ringing burrowed to the center of her brain, stunning her for a second. In Ree’s haste to push her away, Jessie’s feet tangled together and she started to fall. But Ree gripped her arm and tugged her back upright.

Chips of marble rained over them. One nicked Jessie’s cheek. A liquid warmth rose from the spot. She touched her hand to it and her fingers came away bloody.

Wertz came on the com again, shouting something Jessie couldn’t hear over the ringing in her ears. Ree responded. The only word Jessie picked out was grenade.

Then Jessie heard Wertz’s reply, probably because he repeated it about a dozen times.

Abort. Abort. Abort.

Two

Jessie keyed her mic. N o . We’ve cleared the east wing and Returned three of them. Intel said there’s only five. We can take two more.

Two more armed with grenades, Wertz said, voice cracking. And intel could be wrong. Could be more of them in there. It’s not worth the risk.

They have to run out of grenades eventually.

Jessie—

She gritted her teeth. A little over four months ago, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. Jessie would have gone in there and thrown their grenades back at them, if they were even fast enough to throw them before she reached them.

Yeah, because being a vampire was all sorts of fun.

For crying out loud. She already had Wertz smothering her, she didn’t need to argue with her own self.

Jessie keyed her mic again. Wertz, I know you’re worried about me, but if I can’t send back a houseful of unicorns, how the hell do you expect me to Return vamps or weres?

Agent Ree patted the shoulder of her flak jacket. He’s right. Unis aren’t like in the cartoons. They’re smart and dangerous. Especially if they’re in the horn trade like these guys.

All Jessie knew about unicorns came from one of her favorite books as a kid, The Last Unicorn. And like most little girls, she had always dreamed of seeing a real unicorn, until she grew up enough to learn there was no such thing…only to later learn there was such a thing.

So far, however, she hadn’t seen anything like a unicorn outside of the painting on the foyer wall. The three she had Returned in the mansion’s east wing were in human form. None of them had given the team any trouble, either. Six people all pointing M-16s at you had a way of encouraging cooperation.

Unless you had grenades.

Jessie shushed Ree. Listen.

To what?

The silence. The only thing Jessie could hear was the ringing in her ears. They stopped throwing grenades. Maybe they only had the two.

Somebody talk to me, Wertz demanded over the com.

Ree lifted his mic to his mouth, his eyes locked on Jessie. For a second, he hesitated. Then he said, Sir, permission to engage. Jessie’s right. We back off now, these unis will get away and set up shop somewhere else.

And if Jessie is killed, the Return is over before it barely began.

Jessie curled her lip. We’ll never Return anything if you keep treating me like a China doll.

Wertz started to say something, but Ree cut in. Sir, my team can move in and neutralize the unis first.

And leave Jessie behind? Unprotected?

For Christ’s sake. Jessie pulled her pistol from the holster strapped to her hip and flipped off the safety. I have a gun, you know.

Wertz sighed, the sound crackling like static through Jessie’s earpiece. Leave an agent with her. And watch your ass, Ree. We’re not exterminators, but if it comes down to you or them, you waste them. I don’t want to have to make any uncomfortable phone calls today.

The corners of Ree’s eyes crinkled. Roger that. Ree motioned to one of the two female agents on the team. Jessie couldn’t remember her name, but mentally referred to her as Spike because of her short cropped and gelled hair Jessie had seen before the agent had donned her helmet.

Spike was positioned against the wall on the opposite side of the hall entrance from Ree and Jessie. She peered around the corner before charging across to join them.

No grenades came tumbling out after her. Just more silence. And that dang ringing in Jessie’s ears.

Ree whispered, Stick with Jessie while we clear the hall.

Spike nodded and sidled up next to Jessie. She smelled like coconut, probably because of the gel in her hair. Either that or she moisturized. Weird thought, a machine-gun toting woman putting on lotion before going into a raid. But, hey, whatever helped her through. Jessie had watched the last half-hour of Commando with Arnold Schwarzenegger. Nothing like a good laugh at over-the-top movie action right before heading into the real deal.

Ree and Spike exchanged a final nod, then Ree made a twirling motion with his finger in the air and the other four agents crowded either side of the hall’s archway. Like Spike had, Ree peered around the corner. A quiet moment passed. Then he waved the team forward.

They filed into the hall and out of Jessie’s sight.

She strained to hear past the ringing in her ears. She picked out the crunch of their boots on the floor that the grenades had turned to marble gravel. Hall is clear, Ree’s voice came over the com. Looks like it leads to a dressing room. Doorway on the right, probably leading to a bedroom or master bath. Left side of the room stretches out of view. Targets could be in either direction or both.

Jessie’s gut tightened. She clenched her teeth, breathing through her nose and inhaling the burnt stink left behind by the grenades. She adjusted her grip on her pistol, more for comfort’s sake than any sense she would need to use it. There was no way those unicorns could get through the team.

Was there?

If they have more grenades, there is. One good toss and blam, total mission failure.

But wouldn’t they have thrown them by now? The closer the agents got to them, the more of a chance the unicorns would blow themselves up too.

Ree whispered through the com. Dressing room is clear. Additional doorway leads farther east. Clearing the first doorway now.

The sound of wood cracking echoed down the hallway as they kicked in the door.

Jessie braced for shouts demanding surrender or the chatter of gunfire to come next. Begged for it, in fact, so this silent tension would finally break.

Nothing. Just the ringing in her ears.

Then Ree’s voice, Master bath is clear. Moving to the next door.

Jessie’s gut did a flip. She leaned back against the wall, her helmet clunking against the frame of the unicorn painting. The haze left behind by the explosions made her feel like her vision had gone blurry. She kept trying to blink the feeling away, but only managed to dry out her eyeballs.

She didn’t like standing there like a bump on a log, as her mom used to say. Doing nothing but listening for the inevitable confrontation between the team and the two remaining unicorns with proficiency in grenade lobbing. If they had grenades, they had guns. Probably big guns. Jessie had seen enough of these raids to know the routine. If those unis were hiding behind door number two and Ree kicked it open, the situation could go from bad to super jacked in a millisecond.

But if she was there to Return the unicorns before they opened fire, this could end the way it was meant to.

She lifted her wrist mic to her mouth and keyed it on. Wait.

A silent moment passed, feeling like forever.

Jesus, Jess, Ree growled. We were about to breech. What is it?

You need me there.

Wertz cut through before Ree could respond. Clear the channel, Jessie, and let them do their job.

"What about my job?"

What are you talking about? Jessie had heard this tone from Wertz before. She could picture the gnome’s tiny face turning as pink as Hello Kitty’s bow.

You said it yourself. We aren’t exterminators. If those unis are behind that door, I should be there to Return them before the shooting starts.

If there’s shooting, Wertz said, what’s keeping you from getting caught in the cross fire?

The Return.

This isn’t a quick draw contest. I’d rather see a couple of horn dust dealing unis get gunned down than risk your life so you can send them back to their happy homeland.

Jessie clenched a fist. An oily sensation rolled down the back of her throat. If that’s how we do things, what’s the point of the Return? Why don’t we nuke these supernaturals from orbit?

That’s ridiculous.

She rolled her eyes. She should have figured a reference to Aliens would get totally missed by Wertz. The only movie she could get him to admit seeing was The Wizard of Oz. It took a lot of willpower to avoid making the obvious cracks about a gnome’s interest in a movie with munchkins in it.

Just a figure of speech, Wertz. Get a grip. She softened her voice. Seriously, though. My calling is to Return supernaturals to where they belong, not execute them. That’s going to involve risk. But it’s the right choice. Otherwise, what’s the point of my existence? If I’m not the Return, then I’m nothing.

Wertz didn’t say anything for a moment, but Jessie could tell he had his mic keyed because she could hear his soft breaths. She kept her mouth shut and let him work it out.

After another couple of seconds, Wertz said, You’re more than just the Return.

Yeah, well, she didn’t feel like it most of the time. But she kept the thought to herself and waited for him to continue.

Fine. Get in there.

Jessie pumped her fist and whispered a celebratory, Hell, yeah, ignoring the look from Spike as if Jessie had pooped on the marble floor.

Agent Ree, Wertz said. You protect her like she’s family, understood?

Roger that, Ree answered.

Jessie holstered her pistol. It would only get in the way of Returning. Then she jogged down the hall to join the rest of the team, Spike close behind.

Three

T hree…two…one …

Ree kicked the door open, Jessie right behind him, the team circled around her in a horseshoe pattern, all eyes forward. Peering around Ree, Jessie glimpsed the master bedroom through the doorway. An obnoxiously huge room that could have held one of the apartments she and Mom had lived in at one time, with room to spare. A Titanic-sized four-post bed sat in the center of the room. Built-in bookcases full of both leather-bound for-show books and ratty grocery store paperbacks lined two of the four walls. An entertainment center that looked like NASA’s mission control room took up most of a third. The final wall was hung with artwork like a gallery, each piece depicting unicorns in some fashion or another, from realistic-looking paintings, to comic book-like illustrations, and a couple abstracts that only slightly resembled their single-horned subject matter.

Apparently, unicorns had serious ego issues.

Other than the fancy furniture, though, the room stood empty.

Jessie concentrated, trying to listen for any kind of movement beyond the ringing in her ears. If she’d still been a vampire, she might have picked up something. Instead, she heard her pulse and the soft puff of Ree’s boots on the room’s plush carpet as he crept deeper inside.

Only one door led off from this room, through the gallery wall. Probably a walk-in closet about the size of a spare bedroom. Maybe hung with furs and a hundred pairs of fancy shoes and designer suits, yet still enough room for a friendly racquetball match.

Dealing in horn dust must have paid damn well.

Ree signaled at the door with a hand and the team filed into the room, Jessie following along. He directed three of the agents to line up against the wall beside the door. A few of them jostled the artwork, but they moved silently, the brush of their feet on the carpet barely a whisper.

The rest of the team, including Jessie, formed up behind Ree in front of the door.

A trickle of sweat ran down between Jessie’s shoulder blades. She took a deep breath through her nose and noticed the room smelled sweet, like fresh cotton candy. From the pre-op briefing, she knew that horn dust smelled something like that. Were they processing the stuff in their bedroom? Or hiding the product in the walk-in?

Ree gave the team a single nod, then he lined up his rifle at the door. You’re cornered. There’s no way out. Set down any weapons you have and come out slowly.

No response. Judging from the look on the agents’ faces, this surprised no one.

Ree shuffled closer to the door. He held up three fingers, ticked them off—one, two, three—then reared back to kick the door open.

He never got the chance to follow through.

The door exploded outward, splitting in the middle, the sound like a crack of thunder. Through the two halves of the splintered door emerged a shimmering horn that looked coated in sparkles. The white horse head the horn was attached to burst forward in a blur of speed. Its red mane fluttered along the back of its neck as if blown by a strong wind. Its white-haired body also had a dusting of sparkles, though not as concentrated as on the horn. The sight of the mythical animal froze Jessie in awe. It looked even more magical than her little girl imagination could have ever conjured.

One of the halves of the door hit Ree square in the chest and knocked him to the floor.

The agents behind him—and the only thing between Jessie and the charging unicorn—had time enough to twitch in surprise before the unicorn reached them. Spike was one of those agents, standing right in the unicorn’s path.

The unicorn’s horn shot straight through Spike’s chest, poking out through the center of her back, the sparkling tip smeared with red.

Jessie’s more sensible instincts kicked in, breaking the spell of her awe. She staggered sideways, out of the unicorn’s path.

The unicorn kept charging as it lifted Spike off her feet, a human shish kabob. Spike dropped her rifle and clung to the unicorn’s mane, her legs dangling and kicking helplessly. Blood sputtered out of her mouth as she screamed.

The smell of iron mixed with the sweetness already in the air as if some bright entrepreneur had decided to open up a bakery and butcher in the same store.

Then the chatter of automatic rifle fire filled the room, muffling the other scents with the overwhelming stink of gun smoke.

Jessie reached out toward the unicorn as it passed her. No, wait.

Too late. The unicorn’s pure white flank ripped open, bullets chewing into its flesh. The blood that gushed out looked like a more vibrant shade of red than a human’s, but that could have been Jessie’s senses sharpened by the adrenaline coursing through her.

Jessie screamed.

The unicorn reared its head, throwing Spike off its horn. Her limp body bounced off one of the bookcases, leaving behind a red splash across a row of leather-bound books. The unicorn reared around to face the gunfire as if ready to dive against the current of bullets. But a burst of rounds obliterated its skull, leaving its horn hanging from a strip of flesh across one black eye.

The unicorn collapsed, its weight enough to shake the floor. Jessie felt the vibration buzz up her legs. The rest of her felt numb and clammy, kind of like the first time she made out with a boy. With Ryan. A memory from a million years ago. Only then she had a thrill run through her, an excitement at discovering the unknown. Right now, she felt sick, her stomach twisted in knots.

Tears welled in her eyes.

The gunfire stopped. The silence was suffocating. Jessie wanted to scream just to fill it. Her gaze went from the bloody unicorn to Spike’s limp body a couple yards away. She lay on her side, one arm twisted under her at an unnatural angle.

The taste of bile rolled into Jessie’s mouth.

Slowly, she turned to the agents who had opened fire on the unicorn. The first time she tried to speak, her voice cracked. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried again. You didn’t have to kill it. I could have Returned it.

The agents stared at her as if she had asked them what the square root of pizza was. Maybe she hadn’t cleared her throat enough.

Agent Ree got to his feet. He twisted his neck to one side as if working out a cramp, his eyes pinched. Then he looked at Jessie. The unicorn attacked, Jessie. They did their job.

He was right. Jessie never got the chance to work up her power before one of the team was already dead. She had thought she could work faster than that. But she wasn’t a gun. She didn’t have a trigger. And Returning did not lend itself to a quick draw contest.

She ducked her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. I know.

Ree lifted his rifle and jerked his chin at Spike. Boomer, check on Agent Cezarez. The rest of you, hackles up. Intel says there’s at least one more uni.

Boomer was the shortest of the group, with thin lips and small, twitchy eyes. He looked like a minion to some evil overlord, but Jessie knew from talking to him that he was a sweet, soft-spoken guy who had a passion for demolitions as deep as Jessie’s love of movies. He rushed to Spike, who now had a real name that Jessie couldn’t bring herself to use, making her death too real, and triggering a wave of guilt she couldn’t deal with now. After all, if Jessie hadn’t insisted on going in with the team, Spike would have stayed with her and never ended up in the path of that unicorn.

The rest of the squad gathered at the entrance to the closet, every one of them with their rifles trained on the inside. But even from where Jessie stood, the closet’s entire contents were visible. Plenty of suits, dresses, two racks of shoes—one his; one hers—a full-length mirror on the far wall…and nothing else.

Cover me, Ree said and crept into the closet. He moved with a stiff quickness, swiveling at the waist as he looked up and from side-to-side, always with his rifle aimed in the direction he faced. He shoved aside the clothes hanging on the racks and knocked on the walls behind them. He stomped at foot-spaced intervals on the floor. He squinted at the frame around the mirror and pushed against the wall on either side of it.

Then he lowered his rifle and turned to the team.

Nothing.

The second woman on the team shrugged. Intel’s always a guess.

Ree shook his head. Feels wrong. His gaze looked past his team to Jessie, an intensity in his eyes that made her shiver. You getting a vibe?

Jessie wrinkled her forehead and snorted. That’s not really my shtick. I don’t get vibes.

Ree sighed, clearly agitated. He looked like someone who had misplaced his keys and had looked everywhere for them without success. Can you come in here and check anyway?

She didn’t blame him for completely misunderstanding her abilities. She didn’t fully understand the Return herself. Though it had never given her paranormal radar. Still, she humored him and stepped into the closet.

Ree shuffled around her and out the door, leaving her in the space alone. The clothing surrounding her acted like sound-proofing, muting sounds in the closet, letting the ringing in her ears well back up. She glanced around. The mix of fabrics filled the space with an animal-like musk. She doubted anything synthetic hung in this closet. Just behind the smell of the clothes, though, she smelled that cotton candy sweetness.

The skin on the back of her neck rippled. Her scalp tingled.

Don’t get excited. A unicorn just burst out of here. The smell probably came from it.

But as Ree had put it, Jessie was getting a vibe. It worked at her like a persistent humming in her head. Her cheeks turned cold.

What is it?

Jessie turned to the voice. Ree had one eyebrow quirked while he stared at her like she was a total freak.

You just went pale.

Jessie slowly pivoted away from him and looked into the mirror. She bit back a shriek at the sight of her reflection. She almost looked like a vampire again. For an instant, she thought she heard a voice, a distant whisper.

It’s going to happen again.

Then the sensation cut out like a lost signal. The color and warmth returned to her face. She watched it happen in the mirror.

Like that, the vibe was gone.

Overactive imagination. Wishful thinking. The hope that she really did have more to offer than the Return. Nothing more.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Ree and the team, all staring in at her like she was a zoo animal. Nothing, she said. Just a little too much adrenaline. The closet’s clear as far as I can tell.

Okay. Next step.

We go home?

Ree shook his head. Clean up. He pointed to the dead unicorn on the bedroom floor, its blood still soaking into the carpet. You need to Return that uni.

Jessie scrunched up her face. Her stomach did a triple lindy. What the fuck you talking about? It’s dead.

We can’t leave it here for civilians to find. Easiest way to dispose of it is you.

That’s what I’ve become? A garbage disposal?

Ree’s shoulders sagged. Come on. Don’t look at it that way.

This is sick. It’s wrong.

Hey! Boomer stood up from his place by Spike’s side. "What the fuck you care about a dead uni? That thing killed Lynn. That’s what’s wrong."

That horrible sugar scent gagged Jessie. She pinched her lips shut and focused on the bookshelf across the room so she wouldn’t have to see either Spike or the unicorn bleeding on the floor, or have to meet eyes with any of the team, all of them judging her now because Returning a dead supernatural somehow offended her ethics.

Boomer made a good point. Why did she care? Was she too tied to her childhood ideal of unicorns? It felt deeper than that. It felt like a misuse of her power. Where that idea came from, she didn’t know. But it had embedded itself into her deeply.

I… Her gaze found the smear of Spike’s blood on the book spines. She squeezed her eyes shut. I can’t.

You can’t? Boomer asked. Or won’t?

A hand touched Jessie’s arm. Jessie, look at me.

She opened her eyes on Ree standing close by.

He spoke low. I don’t know what’s going on, but you have to do this.

When did Returning the dead become policy?

When did Returning any supernatural become a problem?

Just now, she thought, and please don’t ask me why. Her eyes dipped. She couldn’t stand the disappointed look from Ree. Disappointed and worried, like maybe he thought she’d gone a little crazy.

Listen, Ree said, voice soft but firm. This isn’t up for debate. This is a direct order. Return the uni. Now.

She wanted to argue, to tell him how disrespectful using the Return on the dead was, a blasphemy of the worst kind. But it wasn’t entirely her argument. More something she felt. Definitely nothing she could explain. Besides, she doubted Ree would change his mind. These Agency types didn’t have a reputation for flexibility.

Fine, she said. Her voice shook. But I’m telling you right now, this is wrong. It’s not what the Return is for. And I have a feeling karma’s going to kick my ass for doing it.

I’m sure it’ll be fine, he said and stepped aside, giving her a clear view of the unicorn corpse.

Forgive me.

Jessie drew her power to wield the Return.

The Dark

Four

More than three years later , Jessie Lockman still sometimes dreamed