Harley Merlin 12: Finch Merlin and the Djinn’s Curse

by Forrest, Bella

  What did she want from me?

  “I’m guessing you didn’t bring me here to flaunt your human form. It’s a good ’un, I’ll give you that, but you wouldn’t be locking doors unless you wanted something from me or you were in the mood to break marriage vows. I’d like to flatter myself, but I don’t think the latter is what’s on your mind.”

  She chuckled. “Very astute, Finch. Dallying with mortals does nothing for me, I’m afraid.” Her laughter suddenly faded, replaced by a cold stare. “No, I brought you here to ask for Erebus’s plans.”

  “You don’t have him on Child-of-Chaos GPS?” My voice shook slightly, betraying my fear.

  “Unfortunately not. Now, I know you are worrying about what he may do to you, so I’ll make this easier,” she continued. “I know about the human body he has acquired, but I do not know why. It came as quite a surprise, and he will not speak to me about it. I have tried to apprehend him in Tartarus, but… he does not often return there.”

  I frowned. “Is he locked out?”

  “He is not ‘locked out,’ as you say, but it has changed. It is difficult to explain, and I have no means to show you, but our otherworlds adapt to our states. As his matter altered to a human state, his otherworld adapted in kind,” she explained. “That is not important. Since he will not tell me what he is doing, I have resorted to borrowing this body to speak with you, in hopes you may be more forthcoming.”

  You’re going to force me to be more forthcoming, you mean.

  “I’d love to spill the beans, but if Erebus finds out, he’ll—” I started to protest, but she rose sharply with her glass in hand, cutting me off.

  “He will not do anything. I will see to it myself. I simply desire to know what my husband is up to, as any worried wife might. I will not interfere in his business, so there is no need for him to know about this conversation. He has a nasty habit of keeping secrets from me, and it irks me in ways I cannot begin to describe.”

  I sighed. “And I’m not leaving here until I tell you?”

  “You have always been quick on the uptake, Finch. That is one of the things I admire about you.” She walked over to me, hips swaying.

  “You’re not giving me much choice here.”

  She adjusted her strap. “No, I suppose not. But I mean it: I will protect you from his wrath if he discovers you spoke with me. You will not be harmed.”

  I had to tell her, or I’d be late for my meeting with Erebus and he’d come looking for me. The chance of him finding out I’d talked to Lux would go up considerably if he appeared and caught me with her. I had a gift for weaseling my way out of sticky corners, but trying to get out of that scenario would require an expertise I lacked.

  Reluctantly, I filled in the gaps between Erebus getting his body and him depositing me at the Mapmakers’ Monastery. I hadn’t even gotten through the first trial when the champagne flute clutched in her hand exploded in a shower of shards. Blood trickled down her palm, dripping onto the plush carpet.

  “The bastard wants to go to Atlantis,” she said in a low voice.

  I eyed her bleeding hand. Well, her priestess’s bleeding hand. “You don’t want a refill, then?”

  “I could murder him.” She balled her hands into fists. “I could literally murder him.” The ground shook slightly, and steam rose from the fountain.

  That didn’t exactly put me at ease. From what I could gather, Erebus and Lux were eternally bound, but they bickered and argued like any couple who’d been together for millennia. Sometimes I got the feeling they hated each other more than they cared for one another. Maybe it hadn’t always been like that. Who knew? The trouble was, their lovers’ spats had a more cosmic effect than ordinary couples arguing. Erebus had told me once, in one of his chattier moments, that their anger had caused global catastrophes and star implosions, among other things. The last thing this world needed was Light and Darkness literally fighting.

  “You skipped a step, Lux,” I said with forced cheer. “Erebus needs me to find the key to Atlantis first. Do you know why he wants to go there?”

  But Lux wasn’t listening. The door behind me burst open, and I sailed through it at breakneck speed. The last thing I saw before I hit the ground was the glare of strange yellow eyes.

  “Tell anyone you met me, and I will flay you,” she warned.

  Anyone ever tell you that you sound like my sister? Seriously, what was everyone’s sudden obsession with flaying me? I liked my skin covering my muscle. No human bacon for anyone, thank you.

  From my heap on the floor, I struggled to sit up. The doorway stood open, but the woman in white had vanished. I sat alone in the empty hallway, the sound of jazz filtering from the main bar area. Refreshed panic hit me, and I fumbled for my phone. The time read five past two. I was late for my meeting with Erebus.

  Ah, for the love of Chaos…

  Sixteen

  Finch

  I sprinted to the main bar, thrown by what just happened. Two Children of Chaos in one afternoon—my lucky day. Why did they have this irritating habit of leaving me with more questions than I started with? It was plain rude.

  The host in the tux made a show of flicking through menus as I ground to a halt next to him, panting.

  “Done already?” The man grinned, evidently thrilled my “date” with the hot blonde hadn’t lasted long.

  “I’ve got another reservation with Mr. Erebus. Where is he?” I wheezed. Being hurled through a doorway tended to tire a person out.

  The man’s face clouded. “Upstairs, sir. First door on the right.”

  “Thanks.” Time to face my doom. Erebus would be sharpening his proverbial blade, ready to run me through for being late.

  I raced for the winding staircase, taking the steps two at a time until I reached the landing. I went to the described door and knocked, my hand shaking.

  “Enter!” my overlord’s grim voice thundered.

  Gird your loins, people. Gird your loins. I drew a tense breath and entered. For a second, I blinked rapidly, doing a hell of a double take. This room looked identical to his wife’s, down to the cascading fountain and the oh-so-romantic table set with dinner service. My brain déjà vu-ed all over the place, my heart lodged firmly in my throat.

  Erebus sat in one of the dining chairs. “You are late.”

  “‘A wizard is never late; he arrives exactly—’”

  Tolkien couldn’t save me. A bomb of pain detonated in my chest, and clawing vines of agony shot through my limbs. I crashed to the floor, the plush carpet doing little to break my fall. My hands grasped my throat, my windpipe replaced with raw fire. Clearly, Erebus didn’t like being stood up. And he definitely didn’t like his tardy date making jokes.

  Erebus loomed over me. “You know I abhor lateness. I have a cellular device now—if you thought you would be delayed, why did you not send a message?”

  Oh, yeah, ‘cause that would’ve gone over well.

  He leered down at me, enjoying my torment. Erebus and his sadistic kicks. I could probably write a book about those, too. Maybe I would, just to spite the prick. But right now, I needed to beg forgiveness or end up with flames for a tongue.

  “I’m… sorry!” I rasped. “Traffic… was terrible. I didn’t… want to chalk-door… here, since it’s… a human… joint. Please, forgive… me!”

  “Pardon? I can’t understand through all the straining.” Erebus laughed coldly. His human body might limit him, but he couldn’t resist showing off how much power he had left. This was nothing but a flex. A reminder to keep me in my place.

  “I’m sorry!” I bent double, sputtering. “Forgive… me.”

  He twisted his hand, and the pain disappeared. I coughed violently, my hands braced on the carpet, my body shaking from the aftermath. The agony had gone, sure, but my throat felt like I’d swallowed a prime slice of razorblade pie. My chest spasmed, my lungs unsure they were allowed to take full breaths again.

  “Get up. You look pathetic.” Erebus stalked to the tab
le. “Although, you remind me of my precious Purge beasts when they disobey me.”

  I compelled myself to get to my feet. I gripped the door handle and leaned there for a moment, waiting for the nausea to pass. “You treat your Purge beasts like that?”

  “Naturally.”

  “I guess to you, I’m no better than they are.” I knew I shouldn’t poke the bear, but had he really needed to do that, for the sake of a few minutes?

  He gestured to the opposite seat. “That’s correct. Though you have opposable thumbs, so you can hold a fork and knife.”

  I’ll give you a forking knife. Right to your heart, if you’re not careful. I staggered to the table and sat, sweat dripping down my face. “You’re done with dumpsters and shady alleyways, then?”

  “I have grown partial to human food,” Erebus replied. “And after all, we have cause for celebration.”

  I leaned back in surprise. “We do?”

  “Yes. I have an approximate location for Calvert.” He sipped champagne, his behavior eerily similar to his wife’s. That probably caused most of their conflicts—they were more alike than they’d ever care to admit. Two stubborn asses with too much power.

  “Calvert? Is that a wine you’ve taken a liking to, or some place you want me to find?” I toyed with the stem of my glass but didn’t drink. My gremlins hadn’t been vocal recently, and I needed them to stay that way. No distractions.

  He smirked. “Nash Calvert. He is a person.”

  “Ah, so it’s a dude you’ve taken a liking to. Erebus, you surprise me. Playing away from home, are you?” Teasing helped me focus.

  Erebus elegantly swept his champagne up to his face again before bothering to reply. “Even if I were, that would be none of your business. So I thank you to keep your smart comments to yourself.”

  “Who is he, then?” I decided to behave, in case he triggered another pain bomb to underscore his point.

  “Nash Calvert is the key to the Gateway of Atlantis.”

  I faltered. “Huh? When you said we needed a key, I figured it would be more of a… metal object. What makes this guy special?”

  Erebus swirled his glass. “Nash is a relatively rare Sanguine.”

  “A blood magical?”

  He nodded. “Precisely.”

  “You say ‘relatively’ rare. That doesn’t sound special.” I watched the bubbles in my own glass rise to the surface.

  “It is the nature of his blood that makes him special,” Erebus went on. “He is a direct descendant of two Atlantean Primus Anglicus—a pureblooded child of those who took refuge in that mythical city.”

  My eyes widened. “He’s a child?”

  “It is a turn of phrase, you imbecile.” Erebus groaned. “He is a descendant, as I said, and the blood in his veins is unmarred by lesser lineages. Those who emerged from Atlantis many moons ago painstakingly kept their heritage intact.”

  “He’s inbred, you mean?”

  Erebus’s eyes glinted darkly. “He is pure.”

  “Potato, pot-ah-to.” I cast him a sly glance. “And what do you want to find in Atlantis, again? You know, after you get this key? Refresh my memory.” Or, you know, give me a straight answer.

  “Nash Calvert’s blood can replace the rare and extinct ingredients of the ancient spell required to open the Gateway.” Erebus didn’t bite. But at least he gave me something to go on regarding this Nash dude. That was a rarity in and of itself.

  “Okay… but why can’t you collect him yourself? If he’s important to you, surely you don’t want to put him in my slippery mitts?”

  Erebus sighed and gazed at the fountain. “A djinn-made curse was placed on Nash long ago, which makes his blood useless, and even poisonous, to other magicals. I have very few weaknesses, as you well know, but my inability to break djinn-made curses is one of them.”

  “Don’t you, like, own the djinn?” I thought of Kadar and Zalaam and the royal mess he’d made of them.

  “I created them, and they are bound to me, but that grants them certain advantages. They can’t intervene in my deals or curses, and I can’t intervene in their deals or curses,” he replied bitterly.

  I wiped the sweat off the back of my neck. “That’s why Zalaam couldn’t tell us Katherine was Imogene?”

  “Exactly. Because she had entered an exchange with me—giving me the soul of Shinsuke Nomura in place of hers—she was off limits to the djinn. They could not even mention her, as her exchange with me protected her.” His lips curled up. “Not from me, of course, in the end.”

  “Wait, so Children of Chaos can create Purge beasts?” I flitted back to his previous comment, the words only now tickling my curiosity. “I thought they just came from… well, Purges.”

  Erebus laughed. “There is much you do not know, Finch.”

  “Fair point.” I sucked air through my teeth. “I’d still like to know how that’s possible, though.”

  “In my early days, I enjoyed experimenting with raw Chaos. Beastly manifestations resulted. In fact, all beastly manifestations are the result of a Child of Chaos playing with Chaos.”

  “Have you got a ‘Chaos’ quota to fill there?” I joked. How many times did he want to say that word?

  He gave me a hard stare. “Do you want to know where the djinn come from or not?”

  “I do. Sorry. Go on.” I pretended to zip my lips.

  “The djinn, among other Purge monsters, came from my Chaos matrix.”

  Yes, Mr. Anderson… I fought the urge to say it. He wouldn’t get the reference, and he’d seal my mouth shut if he thought I was being clever.

  “The magicals call it a Purge Plague,” he continued. “In reality, I had fiddled with Chaos and pushed it through many magicals at once; hundreds expelled djinn at the same time, though this was a very long time ago. And, as most experiments do, it backfired somewhat. They are bound to me, as they take their magical abilities from me, but I can’t break their magic. A punishment from Chaos, for treating it lightly.”

  It served him right, but it was about to be a gigantic pain in my ass. His inability to break the curse meant the monkey had to do it, instead of the organ grinder. And here I was, with my opposable thumbs and my tail between my legs.

  “You want me to break this curse? I’m not sure I have the expertise for that,” I said, a token protest.

  “I can always splatter Ryann across the city if you don’t feel like it.” His tone sizzled with menace. “Blood sprays far if you strike carefully.”

  I sank into my chair. Yet again, Erebus had me wedged between a rock and a hard place. I had to do this. He wouldn’t have brought me here if I could defy him. Frankly, it had already gotten tedious having to go through the same thoughts over and over.

  “No need to get feisty. You know I’ll do it,” I replied sourly.

  “It never hurts to add a bit of encouragement.” Erebus sipped his champagne, satisfied. I wished him a healthy dose of botulism to go with it.

  I held back my awaking gremlins. “Where am I going to find this Calvert guy? Let me guess, you won’t tell me?”

  “Of course I’m going to tell you. How else would you find him?” Erebus smirked. “His last known location is an off-grid interdimensional pocket, much like that one Kenzie’s uncle made for himself—in the carcass of a crashed airplane in Churchill, Manitoba. I do not know if he is still there, as he moves often, but it gives your search a starting place.”

  “Manitoba? I’m going to Canada?” I rolled my eyes so hard my eyeballs almost popped out.

  “Problem, Finch?”

  I flashed a fake smile. “Not at all, just let me grab my thermals and a bottle of polar bear deterrent.”

  “I suggest you do. I hear they’re hungry, thanks to the mess you humans made of this planet.”

  “Hey, you’re human now, remember? Our mess is your mess.” I could already picture the icy tundra, and my extremities panicking that they might not all make it.

  He smiled. “I am not human, Finch. You wo
uld do well to remember that.”

  How could I forget?

  “Before I head out, there’s one thing I need to ask.” I recalled my promise to Santana. And now that I knew a touch more about djinn, this meeting had transformed into the perfect opportunity.

  “You want to know where to acquire polar bear repellent?” Erebus chuckled.

  I shook my head. “I want to know about the djinn.”

  “I told you about them.”

  “Not that. I want to know if you’re responsible for what’s happening to them. They’re going crazy, and nobody knows why. Not even them.”

  Erebus’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Oh… that. It is simple, really. Their access to Darkness is restricted because my form is compressed inside this body, meaning my power must be channeled differently. I suppose it’s like cutting off their air supply, very slowly.”

  Annoyance splintered through me. “You made them, Erebus. Don’t you feel responsible? They’re suffering!”

  “And they will continue to, until I resume my Child form.”

  “So, you are planning to return to your original form?” That didn’t surprise me. In his body, he had limits. Erebus didn’t like limits.

  He swirled his drink again. “Naturally, at some point. I cannot say when that will be. I am hoping to find a happy medium of flitting between forms, but I am in no rush to figure out the details of that just yet.”

  “And you’ll just let the djinn suffer until then?” The gall of him made me sick.

  “In simple terms that you will understand… yes. I imagine my other creations in Tartarus are struggling, too.” He shrugged. “Oh, well.”

  “‘Oh, well’? That’s all you have to say?”

  He tilted his head. “What would you like me to say? They are expendable. I do not trouble myself over insignificant beings that would not exist had I not experimented with Chaos in the first place. They ought to be grateful for the time they’ve had.”

  “Unbelievable,” I said, not attempting to hide my disgust.