How I’ve longed to see you… Iris’s lips pressed tightly as she thought of him. That cranky young man who would sometimes look upon her softly when he thought she wasn’t watching. “How I’ve longed to—”
“Enough of this nonsense!” An unimpressed Madame Bellerose stood. The veiled woman hadn’t moved from her position next to the wall, though Iris could tell her shrewd eyes were fixed on her. Madame Bellerose raised her paddle. “Four thousand pounds! Four thousand pounds on the girl alone! That should be enough, should it not?”
Iris snapped her head up in shock. The audience was in an uproar.
“Four thousand pounds?”
“Ridiculous!”
“Then I shall bid two thousand on the Aztec.” Standing on his chair, Cortez really was quite short. “Give him to me now!”
“Aztec?” Max repeated. And then, after a short moment—“Hold on, why is my bid lower than hers?” He shot the man a withering look. “Come now, I’m worth more than that, old man.”
Adam was on his feet. “I bid my entire family’s fortune on the girl!”
“My, my,” said a man Iris couldn’t see. “What would the late Lord Temple say if he could see his son throwing his inheritance away for a Negro witch?”
Iris clenched her teeth. Adam’s knuckles were bloodless as they gripped the handle of his paddle in fury. “Isn’t that what you’re all here to do?” he spat back. “Or am I mistaken?”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Coolie has asked for all bids to be made in specific dollar amounts, good sir,” said the auctioneer.
But Adam wouldn’t give up. “That fortune is more than enough—”
“Then how about forty thousand pounds?” Madame Bellerose seemed to relish the gasps and murmuring that descended upon the auction hall. “Far more than her worth.”
Adam’s grip tightened around his paddle. “A hefty sum no doubt won through your family’s spoils in the slave trade,” he hissed. “You’re willing to give it up?”
“This girl’s powers would make her an unstoppable piece for me to play,” she answered. “Isn’t that why you want her so desperately?” Iris could see the challenge in the woman’s eyes as she added, “Outbid me. Then I’ll outbid you. Let’s see how far we can go, shall we?”
Silence. Adam was seething. The auctioneer cleared his throat. “As of now, I have forty thousand pounds on the girl. Do I have a higher bid?”
The realization that he now had at least that much in his pocket drove Coolie into a fit of giggles, stopping only once he caught Iris’s eyes. He dared not look at her when he said, in a hushed tone, “I’m sure they’ll take care of you, dear girl,” before straightening his shoulders.
“A job well done, Coolie,” she shot back bitterly. “A job bloody well done.”
“Forty thousand pounds!” said the auctioneer. “Going once?”
Murmurs from the crowd. Adam stared at his paddle, perhaps wondering if it was worth it. If she was worth it. But then, curiously, he looked up at the ceiling.
“Fifty thousand,” Adam called.
“Sixty thousand,” Bellerose replied instantly. They glanced at each other, their fierce battle raging. All the while Coolie had to stop himself from dancing where he stood.
“Sixty thousand. Going once?”
Adam shifted between anxiously looking up at the ceiling and hesitating to lift his paddle.
“Going twice?”
And then, suddenly, Adam unknitted his brows, his scowl easing into a wicked grin.
He lowered his paddle at last.
“Sold to Madame Violet Bellerose!”
Just as the auctioneer lifted his gavel, the thunderous sound of glass shattering above them sent the whole room into chaos. Max and Iris jumped off the stage and dove for cover, as the shards rained down upon the pulpit.
Iris couldn’t see the figure crashing through the ceiling—only the stream of fire exploding from his mouth, aimed at the bidders, sending them screaming in terror through the front door. It wasn’t until he’d leaped from the stage and landed catlike in front of her that Iris’s chest swelled with emotion. She couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true.
“J-Jinn? Jinn!” she cried, stunned at what she was witnessing.
Jinn did not look behind him at her. But she’d recognize those old worn-out trousers and dull brown vest anywhere. In his hands were the curved blades he’d used in their bolero, just as sharp and deadly as she remembered them. He gripped them tight with determination.
Fire. Breathing fire. He was breathing fire… The words repeated in her mind again and again until they jumbled into a stream of nonsense.
“Who’s he?” Max wondered, in awe of the mayhem that Jinn had just created.
Even in the midst of her pure shock, an overwhelming feeling of hope brought an open smile to Iris’s lips and tears to her eyes. “My Turkish Prince.”
13
JINN. IT WASN’T A DREAM. Jinn was standing in front of her. Real. Flesh and bone.
Her partner had returned to her.
But this couldn’t be Jinn, breathing fire from his mouth. She could see the smoke rising from the burning chairs and drapes. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. How? Jinn wasn’t—he couldn’t… could he?
“Run!” someone screamed. “Run, man, run!”
She heard cries as gentlemen and women ran for their lives, Coolie and the auctioneer along with them. Jinn had aimed for the empty seats in the leftmost row. It was clear he didn’t want to kill anyone. Indeed, for one fleeting moment, he stepped back, and Iris could see the quiet terror in his eyes, as if he were seeing something more than just a flaming auction house. But he gathered himself quickly, his resolution clear in his expression.
“Enough!” Adam cried as Jinn’s mouth smoked again. His front row had been spared, but Iris wasn’t sure for how long. “Jinn! Enough!”
What? Since when do they know each other? Iris glanced between the two.
At least Adam had the good sense to run out of the way. Madame Bellerose couldn’t move with Benini holding on to her, screaming and cursing his fate. Her servant Pierre had tried to stand, but instead tumbled backward, taking his seat with him.
It was the girl in the yellow veil who leaped to action. With her black hat flying back behind her, she took off her jacket with one sweep to reveal a yellow skirt down to her chestnut-colored shins and a brassiere made entirely of pearl beads, woven tightly together—even the wide straps that held her brown chest up. The girl was fast, but nimble enough that the yellow veil pinned to her hair did not move even as she charged forward. She wore it like a fencing mask, shielding her mysterious identity.
Even with all that Iris had already seen, she still couldn’t believe her eyes. As the girl ran toward Jinn, her chest smoked with fine, white dust, revealing the wooden hilt of a blade.
It was a hilt. And it was a blade—a very long blade, emerging from her chest where her heart should have been. She pulled it out. It was bloodless in her hand. Its surface gleamed immaculate and bright in the moonlight, white like the cuff links that demon Pratt had worn on his sleeve. Jinn was too stunned to move.
Iris didn’t have time to think. Pushing Jinn out of the way, she held up her arms. The girl’s blade sliced through the chain binding her wrists. Now free, Iris grabbed the chain, doubled it up for extra fortification, and blocked the girl’s next swings. The mysterious girl hesitated at Iris’s prowess, her instincts. Iris was stunned herself, but she didn’t complain. She bent back, watching the white sword swiping the air just above her nose. Then, tearing her dress for easier movement, she slid behind the girl, whipping her shins hard with her chains as she passed. The girl cried out in pain and flipped onto the row of chairs. Iris finally grabbed the revolver strapped to her leg and shot at her, but the girl deflected each bullet with her massive sword. Once Iris’s onslaught had ended, the girl jumped out of the way just in time to avoid the stream of fire billowing from Jinn’s mouth. Adam, Benini, and Bellerose ducked for c
over as the painting of Immanuel Kant on the wall beside them burned.
“Iris!” Adam called, and out of the corner of her eye she could see him trying to reach her before she quickly shifted her focus back to her opponent.
Iris had always been good with blades, had always been agile, but up to this moment, she’d used those skills for entertaining. There was no audience to please this time. Only the boiling of her own blood that somehow remembered the euphoria of battle. Something about this girl had dragged that curious feeling out of her. But Iris was not as quick as this girl. She leaped at Iris. When Jinn met the girl in midair, he slashed at her chest with his left blade, then tackled her to the ground, only for her to strike his forehead with her own—
And launch her sword straight into Iris’s stomach from afar.
“Iris!” A frantic Max tried to reach her, but the auctioneers’ thugs had just snapped out of their stupor and begun lumbering toward her, hesitantly of course, because not even they could believe the battle transpiring between Iris, Jinn, and Bellerose’s guard. As Max readied himself to take them on, Iris collapsed, her body crumpled in Adam’s arms.
“I’m fine,” she said, though her sight was dimming. “The sword…”
Such a strange sensation, the sword embedded deep inside her flesh. Perhaps it was the pain numbing her senses, but the blade felt familiar to her. The warm pool of her blood dripping down its length felt welcome there. A blade of solid white…
Slowly, she lifted her arm, her fingers hoping to touch it just once…
Dropping his blades to the floor, Jinn carefully yanked the weapon out of her stomach with trembling hands. Blood splattered out of her mouth, the torment unbearable. The mysterious girl flipped to the second row and balanced perfectly on top of the wooden rail of a chair. From there she watched Iris die.
“I’ll be fine.” Iris managed a smile for both shaken men before she died in Adam’s arms.
She awoke again to the grunts of battle. Iris wasn’t sure how long she’d been gone. She didn’t bother to ask Adam, whose expression was one of reverence.
“Iris…,” he started, taking in the sight of her in a way that shook that memory in South Kensington from her. An awestruck boy with blue eyes. “Your power. You really are…”
“Adam.” His expression made her uncomfortable.
“You’re ready.” Adam cupped her face with a hand. “From here, you know where to go.”
Iris had no patience for his cryptic words. She pushed herself away from him the moment she was strong enough. Jinn was dodging the woman’s sword, which she must have taken back while Iris was dead, meeting her swings with his blades. Iris’s stomach ached, but it didn’t matter. She needed to help him. The girl was too fast. And the more Jinn sprayed the room like a dragon, the more the walls around them cracked and the air dragged with smoke. They couldn’t afford to stay inside the building for much longer.
Breathing heavily, Iris grabbed her chains, the only weapon she had left, and charged at the two of them, blocking the girl’s sword once again. The girl quivered at the sight of Iris, reborn. But then, slowly, she lowered her head.
“Isoke,” the girl said in a voice so youthful it surprised Iris. “It is you, isn’t it? Just as Bellerose said. The one called Child of the Moon Goddess. She Who Does Not Fall…”
Iris could just see the outline of her dark lips trembling in fear behind her yellow veil.
“I… I…” The girl caught herself, gritting her teeth. “Isoke, you’re coming back with me to Dahomey. Back to King Glele. I will make you fall today.” She bore down harder on Iris with her sword.
Iris grunted as she struggled against the force of the girl’s strike, her mind scattered in confusion, not only because of the indecipherable words the girl spoke, but because Iris could understand her at all—the girl hadn’t spoken English. Not Yoruba, either. And yet Iris could understand her perfectly. She’d learned this language before. But when? It was another mystery from her past that she couldn’t afford to ignore.
With a yell, Max crashed into the girl, sending her flying back into the front row of chairs. The sword sailed out of her hands, shattering into white crystal the moment it crashed into the ground and disappearing into pearl smoke. The girl had knocked her head on one of the chairs and was struggling to move. It wasn’t a sight Iris enjoyed. The girl seemed so young, despite her tall frame, and so afraid when she saw Iris’s revival. Iris still couldn’t see her face, only her tiny braids fanned out about her, a blanket of obsidian spread upon her veil and the marble floor.
“Jinn!” Iris helped him up. “Jinn, are you all right?”
Jinn gazed up at her, wild emotions writing too many stories across his dark eyes.
“Iris…,” he started, reaching up to touch her face.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on,” said Max, “but I always know when it’s time to go.” Max looked down the clear path in between the chairs. “Come on.”
“Who’s he?” Jinn asked, getting to his feet.
Max shot him his cocky grin. “Her Salvadoran Prince, friend. Nice to meet you.”
Iris was entirely uninterested in the tension between them. Instead, she peered around the room. In the midst of the chaos, Bellerose and Benini had already escaped.
And Adam. Adam was gone too. When had he slipped out? Was it really his plan to leave her there in the burning building?
You’re ready. From here, you know where to go. Adam’s words.
And he was right. She suddenly did know where she had to go next.
The museum.
Max held out his hands to Jinn and waited, tapping his foot.
Jinn raised an eyebrow. “What do you want?”
“Burn these off.”
“Excuse me?”
“Come on, you know. With your—” Max blew into the air as a demonstration. Jinn gave Iris the uncomfortable look of a boy who’d just realized his secrets had been revealed.
“Go on,” Iris said. “We can discuss the details later. Right now we have to move.”
After placing his blades behind his back, tied to him by a brown belt, Jinn obliged Max’s request. This time a controlled stream escaped from his lips until Max, shouting from the heat, managed to break the chains himself.
“Thanks, mate,” said Max, blowing on his wrists.
Jinn scowled. “I’m not anywhere near close to being your mate.”
One of the beams in the corner of the building cracked, threatening to collapse. Grabbing Iris’s hand, Jinn pushed Max out of the way and began running, leaving behind the mysterious girl still trying to move.
“Jinn—” Iris started, surprised at her own worry for the girl’s life. But he wouldn’t stop until he’d pulled her outside and far from the burning auction house, Max following close behind.
“Jinn, stop!” When they were far enough away from the flames, Iris finally pulled herself out of Jinn’s grip.
“What are you doing?” Jinn balked. “We need to go.”
“Where?”
“Out of this city. This country.” Sweat dribbled from his forehead. “Anywhere.”
Iris shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll take Granny with us,” added Jinn softly.
Iris felt ashamed in that moment that Granny wasn’t at all what she was referring to. And yet at the same time, that Jinn had thought of Granny made Iris’s insides feel warm.
“Who’s Granny?” Max asked rather brashly, leaning over to catch his breath.
Jinn gritted his teeth. “Why are you still here?”
“Because she needs me,” Max said teasingly, and patted his shirtless chest almost as if he wanted to see Jinn’s eyes burn with quiet anger. He seemed to relish it.
“I do,” Iris replied, surprising her circus partner. “I need both of you. Because I’m going to the British Museum even though I don’t know what I’ll find there.”
As Jinn stared at her, confused, I
ris pulled him into an empty alley and began, as fast as she could, to explain what had happened since she’d run from the circus. Max listened carefully.
“A key to your past?” Jinn stroked his chin, deep in thought. “The Department of Africa, Oceania and the Americas… And you trust that man?”
“You obviously did,” retorted Iris. “Otherwise, how else would you have found me?”
She had a point, and he knew it. Jinn shifted on his feet. “He came to me after you were kidnapped, and we came up with the plan. I’m not sure he knew I had these… abilities.” He swallowed. “But he knew I was your partner. When he asked me if I would do anything to get you back, I—” He stopped, turning his face from her.
“Your abilities.” Her conversation with Max filled her thoughts. “You were at the South Kensington fair in 1874, weren’t you? June second, the day of the explosion.”
When Iris locked eyes with her stunned dancing partner, it seemed for a moment as if time had slowed… as if perhaps Max were playing his tricks, though she knew he wasn’t.
Finally, Jinn confirmed it.
“So was Max.” She pointed at him. “And me. I have every reason to believe that all the people at the fair that day… changed. Transformed. You too.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you before you ran from the amphitheater,” he said quietly, and just then Iris remembered his pleading as she drove away in the carriage she’d stolen, his words disappearing with him into the fog. “That we’re the same!”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Iris accused. “You can breathe fire?”
Jinn looked away. “I don’t like having to…”
His expression darkened, and he looked suddenly so vulnerable. But Iris couldn’t let this go. “You can breathe fire, Jinn. Ever since we met. There was plenty of time to tell me, not just then! Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I could ask the same question to you,” Jinn said. “Instead of being honest with me, instead of confiding in me, you ran from me.”
The Bones of Ruin Page 14
