The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0)

by Grace McGinty

  Bast handed her a box of kung pow chicken and some chopsticks. A guy on the beach threw a frisbee to his dog, which barked excitedly as it leapt high into the air. The dog reminded her of poor Snookums and her date with Keenan in Central Park. Well, it wasn't actually a date but it wasn't quite work either. It was that stupid grey area that seemed to be where Keenan was most comfortable. Azar sighed, shook off her melancholy and enjoyed the atmosphere.

  “You saved these people. Every one of them,” Bast murmured.

  It was true, she had saved them, with the help of Aaron. No matter how difficult her punishment by the Djinn Council would be, they were worth it. She fed a piece of chicken to a seagull and ten more flew over to stare at her intently.

  “I guess I did. What happened with Lila and the Ghul?” Azar was dying to know. Obviously nothing too drastic considering both Lila and the Councilor for the Ghul were perched up at her trial today. Bast shook his head in disgust.

  “Nothing. Lila vowed black and blue that she tried to get in touch with Franco -he's the Ghul Councilor- and Franco swears equally as fervently that he never received her calls. They just put it down to miscommunication. It's obviously bullshit, we both know that. However, without evidence of misconduct, there’s nothing the Adel can do.”

  The idea made her blood boil. She had almost died, and thousands of New Yorkers as well, and the blood sucking bimbo got away with sitting back and letting it happen. But she was now on the Adel's radar, and they could make her life very uncomfortable. Azar doubted that any of them had fallen for the he said/she said ploy that the Ghul had produced, especially Mira. Azar really wanted to see Lila burn.

  “Is Saraf really my father?” She already knew the answer, felt it in her bones, but she needed to hear confirmation from someone else.

  Bast sighed heavily. “Yeah, he is. He came to see you when you were out of it, after we brought you back to the compound. He knew all about you, even before you'd even given your statement to Mira. Apparently, he tracked you to Spain, but lost you when you hopped the ocean to the free world. I didn't want to tell you until it was all over; you had enough problems without throwing a long lost father into the mix. But then Saraf beat me to it.” He grimaced. “Sorry you couldn’t have found out in a less dramatic setting. Saraf isn't exactly known for his tact. His stubbornness is legendary though. You must get that from him,” he teased.

  So her father really had looked for her. Azar didn't know if she was happy or upset that he'd failed to find her in Spain. She'd had a lot of hard times, gone to sleep hungry in a lot of cardboard boxes, but she also loved the life she'd eventually created. She loved working as a firefighter and she loved her friends. All that would not exist if Saraf had scooped her up from the orphanage when she was five. Azar struggled to comprehend what her life would have been like if that had happened.

  Something finally dawned on her. “He said progeny. At the trial, he said he gathered his progeny together. Does that mean I have siblings?”

  Bast laughed. “Yeah, you do. Quite a few actually. Saraf takes procreating for the Ifrit race very seriously.” Bast was counting on his fingers. “There’s ten that I can think of, but there could be more. He has been around for a very long time.” Azar shook her head dazedly. She gone from being alone in the world, to having a father and at least ten half siblings. Her life had finally hit the twilight zone.

  Bast wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. The golden five o'clock shadow that covered his jaw tickled her face.

  “So, how did it go with Reilly?” He tried to sound nonchalant but there was a tiny thread of compassion, and maybe hope in his voice.

  “He's confused and angry. He is too stubborn to give up without a fight, so I doubt that today will be the last time I see him, regardless of the risk to his safety. I'm not going to lie Bast, it hurt to say goodbye to him.” It was Azar's turn to heavy sigh. “He took the news about almost being assassinated rather well actually. Danian arrived just as I left, and I had a few words with him, set him straight about a few things, you know?” Bast raised his eyebrows and laughed.

  “Danian is very powerful; he is Jann also. We grew up together in service to the Adel. Behind that strong silent type persona he seems to love so much, he really is a nice guy. He will be good to Keenan.” A little bit of the guilt that had constricted around her heart eased at Bast's assurances.

  Oh, that reminded her of something. Azar turned and punched Bast in the arm. “That's for not telling me you were in The Adel. I think that is a pretty important thing to tell your friends.”

  Bast pouted and rubbed his arm. The sun had started to set, and the golden colors of the sky painted the ocean in front of them. Azar was just glad she lived to see another sunset.

  “It hadn't been a part of my life for a very long time. I was pretty messed up when I left the Adel, and I wanted to hide in my cave, surrounded by humanity but never having to interact with it, and lick my wounds in peace. And then someone burnt down my warehouse, and a sassy little Ifrit wandered in and turned my peaceful world upside down. But you're right, I should have told you.” He kissed her neck and his teeth nipped her earlobe. “Why don't we go back to my office so I can try and make it up to you?” His voice was husky and full of promise.

  “Wouldn't that upset your plants?” The last time she was in his office, his pot plants had all curled in on themselves, like she was a hillbilly at the ballet. She had to keep reminding herself that they weren't conscious beings. They didn't have opinions! “Besides, isn't there a memo on inter-slave relations?” Azar joked as he slowly kissed his way along her jaw. The crowd on the boardwalk had thinned out as the day visitors went home and the night visitors were yet to arrive.

  “Probably, but I won't tell if you don't. How about we go back to my apartment and I really make it up to you. Maybe we can pick up where we left off in the oasis?” Her skin flushed as she remembered him lying her down in the sand. But her heart wasn't in it. She'd been through the emotional ringer today, and the last thing she wanted to do was to start something new. She wanted to take stock of her life, look at the cards in her hands and the chips on the table, and decide where she went from here.

  She ran a hand through Bast's hair and then gently pushed him away. “I don't want to do this right now, Bast. I'm not saying never, because we both know that would be a lie, but I need to figure out who I am and where I stand in this new and frightening world before I involve myself with someone else. Does that make sense?”

  Bast leaned back against the backrest of the bench theatrically, but he kept his arm around her shoulders. She felt sorry for him, and maybe a little guilty. He’d committed himself to fifty years of servitude and he still couldn’t get into her pants. But she didn't want meaningless sex with Bast.

  He had been right when they had first met; there was a pull between them, and she desperately wanted to explore it too. However, she wanted to start her exploration under the right circumstances.

  The sun had set on the worst day of her life, but it had brought with it some positive things to counteract the negative and because of that, she couldn't find it in herself to wish that the Rogue had never started his fire pledge. She had lost a lot, her freedom and nearly her life, but she had gained a lot in the process.

  Azar took a deep breath, and let her new life begin.

  Burn And Blaze

  Book Two

  Chapter 1

  Azar shifted back to avoid the fist hurtling towards her face. She felt the wind brush across her cheek as the swing missed her by a hairsbreadth. Her body shifted to the side, muscle memory kicking in as she spun and aimed a vicious blow to her opponent’s kidney. Her assailant turned barely in time and her fist only grazed his hip. He twisted and was suddenly behind her, his arms like chains around her torso, locking her arms to her side.

  She swung her fist backward, aiming for his groin, but he loosened his hold and danced his lower half away. She twisted in his grasp, raising her own a
rms to push against his chest, but her opponent entwined one leg behind her own and dropped her unceremoniously to the ground. She whipped a foot out to kick the front of his knee as she tumbled, and the connecting blow sent his body hurtling down after her. He landed on top of her, his weight crushing the air from her lungs. She locked her leg around one of his and tried to position her hands under his chest to tip his body off hers, but he was too heavy.

  Her assailant leaned forward and nuzzled her neck.

  Azar sighed. "We always go so well until we get to the floor work," she grumbled halfheartedly. The only response she got was a mumbled agreement as his lips nibbled her earlobe. She ran her hand through silky, golden hair as a tingle ran up her spine, making her let out a little moan.

  There was an uncomfortable cough from the other side of the gym.

  "I'm unsure how Huzin trained you in combat, Bast, but I'm fairly sure it wasn't using those techniques,” came Mira's amused voice.

  Mira was the acting commander of the Adel, the combat and investigative force of the Djinn, or genies as Westerners referred to them. The Adel were like the human Delta Force, but with bonus features. They investigated rule breakers and traitors and then, if they felt it was necessary, summarily executed them.

  Azar gave Mira an innocent smile. "I'm trying to learn, but he keeps finding a reason to get me into these compromising positions and then take advantage of me."

  Mira laughed and shook her head. Azar and Mira had become close friends during the months of her compulsory servitude. Mira was a powerful Marid, a long lived race of Djinn with an affinity for water, and the sea in particular. Mira could draw the moisture from a person’s body, or freeze it in their veins. It was said that a Marid controlled the ocean and the tides. Azar wasn't sure about that. She had lived as a human firefighter for a very long time, and the science behind the lunar cycles and the tide seemed pretty solid to her.

  Sometimes she thought more like a human than a Djinn, but that was to be expected; she had lived in solitude from her own people for over a century to avoid having to do the compulsory servitude.

  However, like all good things, that had come to an end. She'd been caught, and given fifty years of slavery, but only because she'd voluntarily tracked down a rogue Djinn that had planned to destroy New York City. The way she saw it, fifty years was a small price to pay to save the lives of her friends.

  Bast poked her in the ribs. "You can try that innocent act in my room later," Bast whispered saucily in her ear and Azar held back a laugh.

  Mira just threw her hands in the air at the exchange. She wouldn't have been able to hear what Bast had said, but it wouldn't take a genius to guess. "When you two are quite finished canoodling, can you please come to the Comms room?" Her voice held mock disgust but she was chuckling as she turned and left the gym.

  Bast's lips continued to make their way across the sensitive skin of her neck, and then down her collarbone. "Do you find my training methods unsatisfactory?"

  He nipped at her chin and Azar fought back another moan. "I don't think you do anything unsatisfactorily. I doubt it's even in your vocabulary," she purred back and then let out a frustrated sigh. "But we need to get up. We can continue this later." She winked at him and gave him a gentle shove. He rolled onto his back with a groan.

  She pushed her aching muscles into an upright position and walked over to towel off the sweat that coated her body. Bast had been training her in the basics of hand to hand combat almost every day for the last three months, since the first day of her compulsory servitude. To this day, Azar thanked her lucky stars that she had met Bast, otherwise she would have died a slave. The Council had spared her life in deference to her father, even though she had broken several of their strictest rules. But they had still insisted that she complete her one hundred year servitude. Bast had volunteered to complete fifty years for her, on the proviso that they both served under the Adel. Apparently, two slaves had been better than one.

  She still shook her head when she thought about him voluntarily getting back into a life he'd deplored, unable to believe what he was willing to do for her.

  One hundred years of compulsory servitude was one of the founding principles of Djinn society. Every Djinn of full or half-blood was born with a slave mark on their bodies; a brand imbued with magic that, when coupled with Anadari bracelets or slave cuffs as she liked to call them, allowed the Djinn to be controlled by a third party.

  When the Djinn Council assigned a Djinn to their Master, an ancient magical contract was entered and a Djinn was under his or her Master’s command for the term. Once the servitude was over, the slave cuffs fell off, the mark disappeared overnight and the Master's control was voided. It helped keep all the parties honest. People, and by people she meant other Supes or even very powerful humans, paid huge sums of money to have a Djinn slave. They used them as mercenaries, emissaries, luminaries and a multitude of other roles, sometimes even sex slaves. Servitude could be unpleasant for the Djinn serving it.

  Azar pulled a shirt over her sports bra and stepped into her sweatpants. She'd baulked at the tiny training outfit Bast had presented her with on the first day, which was basically a sports bra and little boy shorts that cupped the bottom of her ass cheeks. But she found it gave her complete ease of movement, so it could have been worse. She could have been running around naked for some oozy Troll King.

  The whole ordeal with the rogue Ifrit had resulted in her having night terrors for months, each night showing her the outcome of her life if a single factor had been different. If she hadn't responded to the fire and seen the Djinn symbol seared into the floor. If she hadn't confided in Keenan Reilly, the arson detective, about what she really was. If she hadn't met Bast. If she hadn’t been successful in defeating the Rogue Ifrit. If her father hadn't been a Councilor. The what-ifs crawled around her mind like a virus.

  Darkness clouded her vision as her lungs constricted and she mentally berated herself for her weakness. Panic attacks were another leftover symptom of the experience. She took a deep breath in and pushed everything that happened three months ago to the back of her mind.

  She felt Bast's large hand come down on her shoulder and pull her close to his side.

  Azar smiled up at the tall Jann beside her. They really couldn't be more different. Of the six Djinn races, the Jann and the Ifrit had the least in common. They were like two ships moored in the same harbor, but at opposite ends. They had no ancient rivalry, or benevolent camaraderie.

  The Jann were Djinn of growth, creation and beauty. They made dreams come true and provided oases of good to those in need. The Ifrit, on the other hand, were a race of pure destruction. All Ifrit had the ability to control fire, but such an ability had few uses that didn't result in wholesale destruction.

  The only passive use of her powers, the ability to read and control fire in emergency situations, had been taken away from her when she had been forced into fifty years of servitude. Up until last month, she had been a firefighter, and a damn good one at that. But the Adel had slowly been easing her out of the fire house, until no one even noticed her reduced hours.

  She'd told her partner, Joe that she was getting burnout, but she knew Joe didn't believe her. He just thought she was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after the whole thing with the Rogue. He didn’t know the details, and he never would. The truth could be dangerous, especially to humans, and she'd already caused enough problems on that front.

  Bast leaned down and kissed the top of her head, a sure-fire way to get her out of her own twisted thoughts, before walking over to his duffel bag and grabbing his shirt. Azar appreciated his physical beauty. She often thought of him as nature’s greatest symphony in gold. He was tall, easily six and a half feet, with a permanent sun kissed tan and golden hair that shone so brightly, haircare models would be jealous. His honey colored eyes could draw you in so deeply that you never wanted to escape, and all the physical perfection was balanced by the littering of scars on his body
from his previous days as an Adel foot soldier.

  Her feelings for Bast scared her to death. She definitely cared for him, but she was all messed up inside, her thoughts tangled like Christmas lights in November. Sometimes she thought she might never get it all straightened out.

  Bast had given her the space she'd asked for, always giving but never pushing her further than she wanted to go. But Bast was under her skin, his searing hot presence wearing her down and she knew that one day soon she was going to give into her attraction for him, regardless of whether her head was ready or not. Her body and her heart had voted, and her head could just play catch up.

  "Are you ready?" Azar startled as Bast's words mirrored her thoughts. She thought he might have a touch of telepathy, but if he did, he'd never let on.

  She saw him standing near the door and breathed a sigh of relief. He meant was she ready to go to the Comms room. She hefted her gym bag and strode over to the door. Bast took it out of her hands and carried it easily with his own.

  They headed along the narrow stone hallways of the Adel compound. The compound was actually underneath the Djinn Council headquarters, which occupied the top three floors of an old stone building in Lower Manhattan. There were three subterranean levels that had been added after the Djinn had taken possession of the building, and those levels housed the Adel headquarters. Some of the Adel lived off-site, but anyone who was still in their servitude lived in the dorms on one of the upper levels. The public front of the building masqueraded as a private brokerage firm, complete with security and a well appointed secretary in case any humans ever wandered in.

  They came to the huge double doors of the Comms room. The Communications Hub was the epicenter of the Adel Intelligence Branch. They could find anyone or anything from within these walls. They could even hack the most sophisticated servers in the world; they'd actually hacked into the Homeland Security's personnel database and created a false terrorist attack, complete with special agents, to assuage her Chief when she'd been abducted. It was a terrifying amount of power to be possessed by a race that cared nothing for humans.