by Amir Lane
The neighbourhood was a much nicer one than I’d been expecting. It wasn't exactly Sunnybrook rich, but it was obviously a touch more expensive than my neighbourhood. Why would she have a safe house here?
“Nobody looks for escaped criminals somewhere like this,” she said.
Was she reading my mind, or was my face really that open? I was going to have to work on that. She did have a point, though. I had to admit to my own bias and acknowledge that she was right. This certainly wasn't the first place I would go looking for someone like her. That said, it did seem like a waste to pay for an apartment in such a nice building when nobody lived in it.
Unless somebody does live here and you’re breaking into someone else's place again.
Audra had the combination to the front door, but that didn't mean anything. She could have been a good guesser or gotten it from someone else.
I realized as I followed her inside, reeking of sweat, that I was too tired to keep doubting her. That worried me. It meant I was off my game and vulnerable. I tested myself by pushing a short pulse of energy into my fingers. At least my powers weren't blocked anymore. I wasn't too tired to protect myself if I had to, at least not physically.
Which reminded me…
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Go for it.” Audra opened the door to a stairwell and entered.
“When did they start making inmates ingest silver?”
Audra stopped, and I nearly walked into her. I caught myself on the step above me.
“What are you talking about?”
Nerves twisted my stomach. That wasn't a good sign.
“When I was processed, they made me drink something that had iron and silver in it.”
“Why would they make you drink silver?”
“So it’s not something the average prison does,” I said, ignoring her question.
My biggest fears were coming true. Somebody that I'd told my weakness to had used it against me. And the only somebody that made sense was Finín Quinn. There was no denying it anymore, not even to myself. I lifted my head to look at her.
“It’s not something any prison I’ve heard of does. What does it mean?”
“I think it means Finín Quinn wanted me dead.”
We took the stairs two at a time after that. As we went, I told her my theories about Finín. By the time I was done explaining what little I’d put together, we were inside a barely-furnished apartment that didn't seem to be used much. The key was hidden under a cut piece of the carpet. Audra’s story about it being a safe house seemed to have some merit. Large symbols were painted on the walls in black. I had no idea what they were for, but they hummed with magic energy. They looked a little like the symbols that had been in Wesley Cohn’s apartment and the ones Angelo had used to kill Bromley.
I couldn’t think about Angelo. I couldn’t think of the way I’d watched him die twice now. About the way the back of his skull blew out over the wall, about the empty look in his eyes. My muscles tightened to suppress a shudder. I had seen death every day for three years. I had grown up seeing it on TV. This was nothing. Angelo would be fine. I had more than enough to worry about right now.
“They got to him,” Audra said. “I don't know how but they did. Fuck, if they've intercepted Interpol—”
“Is there a phone here?” I asked.
Audra nodded to the kitchen as she walked down the hall, pulling her shirt off. I forgot myself for a moment and stared at her shoulder blades before shaking myself out of it. I had a girlfriend, dammit, one who would hopefully be my fiancée soon.
I picked up the handset from the wall and dialed Kieron’s work number. Oh— I should have been calling Sabine’s number, shouldn't I? I hung up, letting out a frustrated sound at myself, and jabbed my thumb into the keypad again. The phone rang twice before Kieron's familiar but tired voice answered.
“Toronto Police, Special Crimes, 12th Precinct, Staff Sergeant Kieron Harper speaking.”
My voice stuck in my throat. It hadn’t even been a full week since I’d heard his voice, but it felt like so much longer. I swallowed down the lump in my throat.
“Hello? Anybody there?”
I clutched the handset with both hands. My voice cracked when I spoke.
“Kieron? I— Oh my God, it’s good to hear your voice!”
I covered my mouth with one hand so he didn’t hear my choked sob. There was shuffling on the other end of the line.
“Fairuz? Fairuz, is that you? Jesus fuck, you're alive! We've got half the cops in the city out looking for you. Where are you? Are you all right? Where— Indira! It's Fairuz! She's— Ow!”
There was a loud bump, presumably him hitting himself on his desk. Tears welled in my eyes.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m a little banged up, but I’ll live.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Is Finín there?” I asked, ignoring his question.
“Aye, he's at my old desk. Do you need medical attention? The crash— Are you hurt?”
I probably definitely needed medical attention. My head hurt, my chest hurt, most of me hurt. I was probably also very dehydrated. I didn't matter right now.
“I need you and Finín to meet me. I have Audra Jansons, but I don't think I can bring her in myself.”
“You have— What do you mean you have her?”
“Kieron.”
“Right, yeah. Where are you? Finín! Let's go! We've got Jansons.”
“You what?” Finín’ startled voice said.
Was his surprise suspicious? Everything he did at this point was suspicious. I gave Kieron the address and hung up reluctantly. It made me feel far more alone than it should have considering Audra was only feet away from me. I leaned against a wall with my hand on my chest. Breathing deeply made my lungs pinch together.
“Well?” Audra said.
When I opened my eyes, I saw she was wearing a clean t-shirt and holding a gun in her hand. I couldn’t quite make out what kind it was from where I stood, but it looked like a Glock. It was aimed loosely at the floor. I didn't want to know where she got it. She tossed a shirt at me and turned tastefully so I could change into it. I still smelled like sweat and it would be easier to shave my head than to get all the knots out, but it was a little better.
“They're on their way.”
It wouldn't be long now. Soon, I would have my answers.
Chapter Sixteen
I paced the small apartment anxiously as we waited for Kieron and Quinn to show up. Audra sat on the sofa with the gun in her hands. Every now and then, our eyes met and I saw she was just as anxious as I was. She was just better at hiding it. I supposed she would have to be.
The fridge was empty, but there was non-perishable food in the cupboards and frozen food in the freezer. It went further to support Audra’s safe house story. My hunger overrode my manners. If I didn't eat, I wouldn't be able to power the barrier I was no doubt going to need soon. I microwaved some instant noodles and sat on the counter to eat. The position gave me a decent view of most of the apartment. If I craned my neck, I could see the street from the window. We were only three stories up. It was survivable if somebody had to jump.
“How did you end up working for Interpol?” I asked. Realizing she wasn't eating, I added, “You aren't hungry?”
Audra shook her head and motioned to the window. The way the curtains fell let the last bit of the days sun shine on her bark skin. I raised the metal fork to my mouth and paused.
“Wait, you don't actually run on sunlight,” I said, my voice lifting a little at the end.
“I can if I have to. Didn't you say you worked with Rowan Oak for almost a year?”
I shrugged self-consciously. I should have known that.
“He doesn't know everything about how my powers work, either.”
Audra stood to look out the window. I eyed the digital clock sitting on an end table. It had only been eighteen minutes since I'd gotten off the phone with Kieron. Sweat ro
lled down my spine. I tried to play out what would happen when he and Quinn arrived, but my brain was static. I needed sleep. The food and the adrenaline spiking in my veins weren't enough.
That's not adrenaline, that's sodium. You're done.
The still-rational part of my brain was right. My fingers were trembling, and I was losing feeling in my skull. My eyes were cold. When was the last time I'd slept properly?
“Still with me, princess?” Audra said.
I grimaced. “Don't call me that.”
She leaned against the wall with an unapologetic grin. Her eyes quickly turned back to the street below us.
“My parents both worked for Interpol. My last name is actually Rogers. I pretty much grew up training for it. I guess it never really occurred to me to do anything else.” She nodded to me. “What about you? Why'd you become a cop?”
I was used to the question. The answer came quickly, almost rehearsed.
“I was going to be a lawyer. I did my undergraduate in criminology and Middle Eastern magic systems.”
“Let me guess. You blew the entrance exam?”
“I did very well, actually. Two universities offered me acceptances.” I hesitated. This wasn't the part most people knew. It wasn't a secret, it just wasn’t common knowledge. Nobody ever asked about the specific moment I decided to abandon my dreams of being a big-shot human rights lawyer. “When I was deciding which school I wanted to go to, there was a story in the news that stuck with me. A man — a werewolf — was convicted of murdering a teenage girl on evidence the officer had made up. While the werewolf was in prison for somebody else's crime, the real murderer went and killed two more girls. Because somebody was already arrested for the first murder, they never put them all together. Three more girls were killed because one officer was sure he had the right person, and thought it was easier to fake it than to actually be sure.”
Even after all this time, the story made me tighten my grip on the fork. Audra nodded in understanding.
“I knew you were one of those people.”
“What people?”
“You know, one of those people who wants to save the world. You probably could have done more good on a lawyer salary.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But who keeps cops accountable if not other cops? I want them, when they think of doing something wrong, to think twice.”
“And how’s that working out for you?”
I gave a slight shrug of my shoulders, as if it wasn’t obvious how it was working out for me. She was too busy looking back out the window to see it. I gathered the last bit of noodles onto my fork and shoved them into my mouth. Even if they tasted like midterms and all-nighters, I found myself craving more. My stomach would have to be re-trained to appreciate proper food. I was reaching back to the cupboard to find more noodles when Audra straightened abruptly.
“Hey. They're here. Get ready.”
Get ready?
When I'd said I had a plan, it wasn't exactly the sort of four-step process with multiple contingencies Rowan would have come up with. My plan was to talk to them, then arrest Quinn if it turned out he really was working for the Black Birches. When I told Audra as much, she hardened her expression and grabbed her gun. I opened my mouth to protest the need for it, but she cut me off.
“Look, either he's going to put up a fight or I am. So get ready.”
My version of ‘getting ready’ was sliding off the counter, wishing desperately that I'd had a chance to put some deodorant on at some point, and testing out an experimental barrier. I really hoped I wouldn't need one but if I did, they seemed to be working fine. It was good practice to plan for the worst and hope for the best. Usually, the worst was what happened.
“Would you put that away?” I hissed at Audra, nodding to the gun she had pointed at the base of the door.
“No.”
“What would you do if you walked in and saw someone pointing a gun at you?”
The bark over Audra’s forehead creased, and she reluctantly tucked it into the waistband of her jeans.
“If they try shit, I'm shooting them.”
“You are not a very good cop,” I said.
“And you're not a very good criminal. I’ve been undercover almost 20 years, sue me.”
Twenty years? That meant she had to be a good 40 years old. All this time, I'd been working under the assumption that she was closer to my age. It was what her file said. Obviously, more of that was faked than I’d realized. I hoped I looked that good at forty-ish.
Priorities.
Right. I should have been thinking about Kieron and Quinn, and what I was going to say to them. It was stupid of me not to have something prepared. A heavy knock at the door told me I was out of time. Oh well. I was going to have to play it by ear. With one final glance back at Audra to make sure the gun was still put away, I made my way to the door. With a deep breath, I opened it and came face-to-face with Kieron’s chin.
I couldn't help myself, I threw my arms around him. It wasn't exactly professional but in that moment, I didn’t feel like a professional. I felt like a child seeing their father for the first time in months.
He hugged me close enough against his bullet-proof vest that my ribs ached. It looked like Audra wasn't the only one expecting a shootout. I didn’t care. For the first time since he’d left me at the prison, I felt safe.
“You’re all right, girl. I’ve got you. You’re going to be just fine,” Kieron promised.
I sniffed and nodded.
“I hate to break this up, but where's Audra Jansons?” Quinn said.
As I pulled away from Kieron and turned my head to face him, I could have sworn his eyes glowed red. When I looked at him head-on, though, they were their usual brown. I nodded my head into the apartment and moved aside to let them in. Kieron slipped a phone into my hand.
“That girl of yours is missing you,” he said. “Call her back on the way home.”
Before I could thank him, Quinn swore loudly. I turned to find Audra pointing her gun at him.
“Get inside and get away from the door, big guy. You too, princess.”
“Audra!” I hissed, doing as she said. “I told you not to.”
“I can't imagine why she wouldn't listen,” Quinn muttered.
“Shut up, you.” Audra dropped her shoulders, but she didn't lower the gun. She laughed in a humourless sort of way. “You’re not Finín Quinn.”
I looked between her, Finín, and Kieron. Kieron seemed just as surprised as me, but Finín only looked angry. Then, he laughed.
“Oh, that's a good one. You're funny, Miss Jansons. Now, you can either come quietly or—”
I believed her.
It was crazy, but I believed her. I must have had a case of Stockholm Syndrome. There was no other reason for me to believe something so outlandish. My thumb slid under the fold of my cell phone case to open it and unlocked my phone. Fingerprint ID was my favourite feature right now. I could have been much more obvious about it. Everybody was too busy looking at Audra to notice me. I was looking at her, too, even as I navigated to my contacts by muscle memory alone.
Audra nodded her head at Kieron. “Hey, big guy. What colour’s your buddy's eyes?”
Had she seen the red too? Did she see the red now? I only saw brown.
“They're blue.”
If I hadn't been staring right at Finín, I might have missed the way his eyes shifted from brown to blue as he turned his head to Kieron. My chest tightened. The sudden spike in blood pressure made my head spin. They'd been brown a second ago, I'd seen it. I wasn't sure if they'd been blue or brown when I'd first seen him in the precinct, but they had definitely been brown a few seconds ago.
“Forgetting what he really looked like? Who are you?” Audra demanded, raising her gun to eye level.
“Woah, woah!” Kieron shouted, holding up his hands. “Listen, why don't you put the gun down and we’ll talk about this down at the precinct. All right? We can get this all sorted out. Fairuz, one of t
hem barriers’d be real handy right about now.”
I ignored him and scrolled through my phone’s contact list until I found Karim, Raisa. The phone rang as I held it to my ear. Finín’s head snapped to me.
“Who are you calling? Hey! Listen to me, who are you calling?” he demanded.
I didn't listen to him. Instead, I listened to the click of the phone being answered and Raisa’s overly chipper, “A-salaam u-alaikum!”
Djinn were some of the most powerful beings on the planet. The power they had to influence the universe was somewhat exaggerated, but there was still truth to it. There were limits, things they couldn't do. They could only work with what already existed. They couldn't make someone more or less than what they were. I couldn't, for example, wish for Finín Quinn to be turned into a rabbit. The wishes had to be physically possible, specific, and always backfired spectacularly. That power was why the old Sultans would bind them with silver. It was still unfortunately common in some places, though no more common than cutting out siren vocal cords.
Asking a djinni for a wish was number one on the list of Things Smart People Don’t Do. Right now, I was going to either admit I wasn't smart or call it an exception.
“Wa-alaikum il-salaam.” My eyes locked on Finín’ blue ones, I continued in Arabic. “I wish we could see what the person posing as Finín Quinn really looks like.”
The high shriek made me drop my phone, but it wasn't what made me scream. It wasn't what made Kieron jump back. It wasn't what made Audra fire her gun.
No, it was something so much worse.
Quinn’ skin split open as something pushed against it from the inside. His muscles bulged, expanded, morphed. Chunks of steaming skin landed on the floor, a black shape emerging from it. Red eyes stared at me, then turned to Audra, then back to me. I could barely hear Raisa calling my name through my phone at my feet over the steam hissing from the thing’s body. I had to blink several times to realize it was a large, black horse. It reared up on hind legs and would have brought them down on Kieron if he didn't bolt out of the way.
