Tales of the Djinn_The City of Endless Night

by Emma Holly

  “We’re here,” he said at last. “I’ll call up a little glow so you can see the seal.”

  “Hm,” she said once he’d cupped a soft gold light. “The spellwork seems familiar. Luna made this, I think.”

  “That wouldn’t surprise me. It’s very powerful.”

  Georgie traced her fingers around the brass circles. As she did, surprisingly clear pictures rose in her mind. “It’s meant to swing open, like a hatch on a submarine.”

  “So we don’t have to crack the seal?”

  “I suspect it’s important not to. I hear Luna’s voice saying the mantra you described. ‘Nothing in, nothing out.’” She exhaled through pursed lips, trying to relax and not think too hard. She saw Luna’s hands, pale and beautiful, moving in a pattern on the symbols. Georgie copied what they did.

  Like a tumbler dropping in a safe, a chunk sounded in the wall. A separation appeared around the outermost brass circle.

  “It is a hatch,” Connor said.

  “We have to slip in quickly,” Georgie said. “And close it again behind us. I’m not sure why, but it’s important.”

  “Are we agreed we should continue?” Iksander asked.

  Georgie and Connor exchanged glances. Connor nodded. Decided, she heaved the door open. She let the men hurry in then followed and shut it.

  “Holy smokes,” Connor exclaimed for all of them.

  They’d stepped into a large brass pipe. Built in heavy sections perhaps ten feet in diameter, the floor was scattered with metal odds and ends. It wasn’t a sewer, because it wasn’t grimy or bad smelling. The tunnel’s most notable quality—and the one that made Connor swear—was the magic that seemed to pack every molecule. Georgie’s skin prickled so intensely it felt like an ant army crawled on her. She put her hands to her head. The spikes of her hair were vibrating.

  Still cupping his palm light, Iksander turned in a slow circle. “Never in my life have I felt power this unadulterated. There’s no dross in it whatsoever. It’s got to be six nines fine.”

  Georgie believed the term came from measuring purity in gold. She scrubbed at her arms. To her, this much power was uncomfortable.

  Suddenly, Iksander’s expression changed. “I think I know where we are, and it’s not the passage to a portal. This must be a conduit to Hodensk, the plant that replaced the one we were squatting in.”

  “You mean the regents have their own unlimited free spigot?”

  “Yes, they do.” He blew out an angry breath. “Leaders are supposed to manage resources for their people, not skim off what they please to benefit themselves.”

  “That doesn’t explain why the power’s so pure.”

  “That I can’t answer. I suppose their refining process is more sophisticated than my city’s. Luna was very gifted. She could have come up with improved techniques.”

  He seemed annoyed by this. Connor reached out to squeeze his arm.

  “It could be argued,” he said, “that the regents stole our take from the theater—plus whatever we’d have netted if they hadn’t arrested us. Wouldn’t we be justified in filching what we need from this supply?”

  Iksander laughed. “I’m not as finicky about respecting their laws as you. Thank you, though, for reminding me of our goal. Maybe we should walk farther. See if there’s a container we can use to carry magic out.”

  Georgie was all about finding useful junk, but they poked through two sections fruitlessly. As she swung over the bolted flange to the third, her foot bumped something.

  “Bring your light here,” she urged. “Something’s lying across the passageway.”

  Iksander came.

  When she saw what she’d almost stepped on, she let out a muffled shrieked.

  The corpse was the charcoal black of an old mummy. Empty sockets stared where its eyes had been, its leathery flesh sunken to its bones.

  “God,” she said, her hand to her pounding chest. “What is that doing here?”

  “Maybe the same as we are,” Iksander theorized. “Plenty of djinn would be tempted to steal extra amperage.”

  “Does that mean the tunnel is booby-trapped?”

  “No, no. Booby-traps wouldn’t be convenient. The regents need to siphon off power safely. And do occasional maintenance. Now that I think of it, this poor fellow might have been sent to handle either one.”

  “He can’t have died very long ago,” Connor said. “He’s wearing the same uniform as the guard outside. It hasn’t moldered or anything.”

  Fighting her dread, Georgie leaned closer. The men seemed calm. Maybe she’d find a slash or burn mark on the clothes, some sign the djinni was killed by a plain old person and not Tutankhamen’s curse. She reached for a fold that might be obscuring evidence.

  The second she touched the body it dissolved into a pool of tar.

  “Shit,” she gasped, stumbling back into the curving wall. If this had been a movie, there’d have been another corpse behind her. There wasn’t, thank God, but a realization popped into her head that was nearly as horrible. “The demon cloud got him! This is what Neisha described happening to Paulette. When the cloud caught her, she collapsed in on herself like a rotting banana. This must be the demon’s lair. We have to get out of here right now!”

  “Shh.” Iksander caught her arm and rubbed it. “We’re not in danger. Not this second anyway. Let’s see if we can get what we came for and not panic.”

  “That courtier the regents killed said the cloud was chasing people. He said it called a man by name.”

  “We’ll be quick then. Don’t forget, Lord Moore said some people claimed the cloud spoke, not that it did for sure.”

  “That distinction isn’t comforting me right now.”

  The sultan smiled and cupped her cheek, one fingertip skimming her eyebrow. “I know you have enough nerve for this. I’ve seen you under fire.”

  She didn’t want credit for that right now. She wanted to turn and run.

  “I found something,” Connor said. He showed them a length of pipe as tall as he was, with a five-inch diameter. “One of the ends is already capped. All we need is a second stopper and for Georgie to draw a protective seal. It’s heavy, but I can carry it by myself. Magic doesn’t weigh anything.”

  Iksander rubbed his chin. “I suppose that would work. It is a bit conspicuous. We’ll have to be extra careful we don’t get caught.”

  “Start filling it up,” Georgie urged. “I’ll look around for another cap.”

  Despite Iksander’s faith in her, her anxiety wasn’t settling. Her throat grew tighter as she nudged her slipper through the rubbish on the floor. Mixed in with the metal odds and ends were paper wrapping and splintery wood. Nothing looked the right size and shape.

  Think, she ordered. You know how to get creative.

  A springy coil of brass caught her eye. She snatched it up with a trembling hand.

  “The guard’s boot!” she blurted. “Drop it over the end, and I’ll draw the seal on the sole. We can cinch it tight with this.”

  “Good idea,” Connor said an instant before ice water sluiced down her spine.

  Luna’s child, a voice whispered in the distance. Luna’s child, come feed me.

  “Shit,” she gasped, spinning toward the sound. Did the blackness of the tunnel look more like smoke? Was it perhaps moving?

  Iksander cocked his head as if he were listening. She wasn’t imagining things. He’d also heard something.

  “Go,” she squeaked, all the sound she got out. “The cloud is coming. It spoke to me.”

  Thankfully, Iksander didn’t argue. He seized one boot from the mummy’s tar, tossed it to Connor, and dashed back to grab her arm. Realizing she’d been frozen stupidly in place made her heart thunder.

  “Go fast,” Iksander hissed, shoving Connor forward as they bumped into him. “Just hold the boot on as best you can. Your intent keeps the magic in.”

  Georgie wanted to say screw stealing Luna’s power. Getting out alive was more important. Because that seemed
cowardly, she gritted her teeth and ran. An essence stormier than spellcraft was thickening the air. It dimmed Iksander’s palm light, which caused Connor to stumble. When Iksander grabbed his arm, the light winked out completely. Georgie moaned, her fear escalating beyond her power to control. She and Connor were blind. Nothing could save them now.

  “No,” Iksander snapped sternly. “By the power of the All-Seeing Eye, I share my sight with you.”

  The wrist he’d clamped his fingers around went hot. Georgie could see then, as if she’d been given night vision gear. Connor could too. He scrambled up, still carrying the stupid pipe. Whatever, though. As long as they kept running. They had two more tunnel sections left before the exit.

  Georgie made the mistake of glancing back.

  The rubble on the floor wasn’t all she could see. The demon cloud was yards behind them, mocking her with the leering face she’d seen in Prospekt Market. Georgie, its smoky lips teased her.

  Her knees buckled, maybe from terror or the cloud’s evil influence. Whatever the cause, her legs were as useful as jelly.

  “Lift her,” Iksander ordered Connor.

  Both men grabbed her beneath the arms. They didn’t simply pick her off her feet, they flew. Iksander took his smoke form, and Connor levitated like he had for the wrestling play. The remaining length of the tunnel blurred. Barely decelerating, they bounced off the hatch to stop.

  Iksander gripped her shoulder. “Work the lock, Georgie.”

  Her mind went blank for a bad second. She shook herself and wrapped both hands around the inside lever. Like before, memories that weren’t hers bubbled up. The code was a phrase this time.

  “We mean no harm. Let us out.”

  The door swung open. Iksander hauled them all out together, landing them in a tangled pile. The demon cloud hissed as he reached back to slam the hatch shut again. A tendril had gotten out. It lashed like the tail of an angry cat then puffed into nothing.

  “Jesus,” Georgie swore shakily.

  “Is it locked?” Connor asked.

  Georgie felt the wall cautiously. The door seam had disappeared. Even better, the brass symbols were cool and quiet. “It’s locked. Are we all in one piece?”

  “I think so.” Iksander patted his chest as if to make sure he was solid.

  “I’ve got the pipe,” Connor announced. “And the boot. And I hardly spilled any. If Georgie wants, she can draw the seal.”

  Georgie used a shred of her ragged breath to laugh. “Happy to. As soon as my hands stop shaking.”

  Actually, they didn’t dare stay where they were long enough for that. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Georgie sketched the protection as legibly as she could, and they continued without delay. Finding the guard leaning on the wall where they’d left him was surreal. He was fast asleep, completely unaware of their—and his—close escape from the demon cloud. Iksander didn’t direct her to end his nap until they were in the stairwell and two flights up. After that, they had a few near misses with weary servants but reached their suite safely.

  Stepping back among the fussy French furnishings was anticlimactic.

  “Home sweet home,” Connor said, seeming to understand the irony of his words. He lifted his prize slightly. “I need to find somewhere to hide this in case our rooms are searched. It is a pipe. Maybe the bath would be a good place.”

  He went to stow it, leaving Georgie and Iksander alone in the sitting room.

  A single crystal pendant lamp cast a glow on one of the small tables. Though the light was muted, Iksander didn’t turn others on. Instead, he took a chair by the window to stare into more darkness. Georgie debated whether to go to him then decided what the hell. At the least, they’d become a team. If he wanted to be alone, he could say so.

  He didn’t object when she stood behind him to rub his shoulders. Touching him felt new but not unnatural. Maybe he felt the same. He squeezed her hand without shifting his attention from the snow-laden trees outside.

  Georgie combed her fingers through his soft hair. “We’d probably freeze if we were out there, but that forest is beautiful.”

  “Yes. It’s primeval. Peaceful.” He fell silent again, brooding perhaps, then turned his head to her. “You said the cloud spoke to you. What did it say?”

  “It called me Luna’s child.”

  “Because you were her ward.”

  “I guess. I don’t know how it knew. Then it said ‘come feed me.’”

  He frowned. “That sounds like a conscious entity.”

  “Could Luna have made the demon cloud? Could it have served her somehow?”

  “I wouldn’t rule that out, though from what we know, it sounds as if it’s evolving, as if the victims it takes bring it more alive. Perhaps the first kill was accidental. Now it seems it’s hunting deliberately.”

  Georgie suppressed a shiver. “It’s a monster making itself.”

  “I believe so.” He twisted on his seat toward her. “My theory is Luna didn’t intend to create it. I think it’s a side effect of how she set up the power plant. Whether magic comes raw from the earth or radiated by a djinni, it contains impurities. Other systems don’t remove them to that degree.”

  “You think the demon cloud is made of what the plant filters out.”

  “I do.”

  “No wonder Henri and Eleanor killed Lord Moore for speaking to the press. They don’t want the public catching wind of the true problem.” The ramifications of the regents’ silence gave her another chill. “What they’re doing is really dangerous. They must realize the cloud is becoming more powerful.”

  “They may be somewhat in denial but, yes, on some level they have to be aware. They’re probably reluctant to kill the golden goose. In truth, they might not be able to fix Hodensk. They’re canny, but Luna was a genius.”

  “She must have realized it was happening.”

  Iksander’s shoulders lifted and dropped, his eyes serious on hers. “She may have planned to fix the problem later. In the short term, she had uses for all that power.”

  “You mean petrifying your city.”

  “That feat also required death magic but, yes, having Hodensk’s reserves at her disposal helped.”

  Georgie’s eyes suddenly went hot. She gripped his chair back for control, but Iksander saw her emotion.

  “We’ll save my people,” he assured her. “We’re closer than we were before.”

  Georgie nodded. “One step at a time.”

  Smiling faintly, he pressed soft lips to her knuckles.

  “Done,” Connor announced, reentering the room. “We’ve got an extra pipe under our soaker tub.”

  “Good thinking,” Iksander said.

  “Bed?” Connor asked. “I need to rest after all that running for our lives. Also, I wouldn’t mind snuggling the pair of you.”

  He seemed to be testing Iksander’s reaction to this idea. If it were a test, the sultan passed. His green eyes crinkled with fondness. “You, my friend, have your priorities in order.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  THOUGH OUTFITS AT THE palace dressed wearers magically, they had to be fashioned by living hands. Connor spent the morning at the imperial tailor, being measured for a new pair of wings. He’d been summoned there without Georgie and Iksander. Despite missing their company, the tailor’s studio was interesting. Double height, bright and airy, its windows overlooked the great central courtyard with its enchanted sun. The tailor’s job must have prestigious. He had many assistants, each working busily in partitions—snipping, pinning, sketching out new patterns. Everywhere Connor turned, fabulous shades and textures astounded him. His surroundings were so intriguing he barely noticed the measuring tape moving here and there on him.

  The sound of the tailor opening a large book of sketches finally drew Connor’s gaze to the worktable. “Since you’re curious,” the tailor said, “here’s what Her Graciousness thought you’d wear for your performance at the investiture.”

  Connor leaned in to look. “Hm. Those
wings are beautiful, but they look awfully long. I’m afraid my partner and I will get tangled while we’re fighting.”

  “Really?” the tailor said, his face pulling with dismay. “Our Beauteous Leader specifically requested the length be luxurious.”

  “What’s this sparkly stuff on the feathers?”

  “Gold dust.”

  The gold in the picture was thick enough to come off on Connor’s fingers. He rubbed them together and hummed again.

  “What?” the tailor asked anxiously.

  “Won’t this burst off in a cloud every time I flap? What if I choke or blind someone?”

  “Her Majesty wishes to do you honor.”

  She wished to win him over with gaudy expensive gifts. Because this was best unsaid, Connor tried to answer like Iksander. “To be asked to perform at such an august occasion is more honor than I deserve.”

  His flattery must have missed the mark. The tailor appeared about to cry. “I promised Her Highness your costume would be grand.”

  “You must blame any changes on me,” Connor said. “Explain I didn’t wish to dishonor her by causing an accident.”

  “I don’t know if she will accept that. Couldn’t you—”

  Connor’s palm began to pulse. The city’s other regent was summoning him. “Change the gold to enchanted dust,” he said. “It will sparkle as prettily. And shorten the wings. No longer than my ankles. If anything goes wrong during the performance, you could be blamed regardless. I wouldn’t want that to happen.”

  “But if you—”

  “I have to go,” Connor said. “A previous engagement.”

  The tailor wrung his hands, but Connor made himself turn away. He didn’t want to displease the city’s rulers any more than the djinni did.

  As instructed, he hastened to the dining hall and the small chamber behind it. To his surprise, the hall was empty—no guards or courtiers about. The door to the smaller room was ajar, so perhaps he was meant to go straight in. He approached but stopped when he heard Henri speaking to someone.