Santana made a strained noise, halfway between a gasp and a shriek. “It’s Davin. She’s talking about Davin.” She looked to me with panicked eyes. “Remember Marie Laveau’s church? Finch stuck a knife in Davin, and Marie’s Voodoo hounds tore the living daylights out of him. He should’ve been dead, but that asswipe came right on back. And after Harley battered seven shades of crap out of him at that shady hotel? He popped up again in Elysium, as if nothing had happened.”
My stomach churned with dread. “You’re right… Holy crap, you’re right!” Of course that snake had found a way to cheat not only death, but Erebus. He served himself, doing whatever he had to in order to survive.
“Only in death is the servant free of Erebus,” Safiya continued, her scarlet skin rippling. The wind whipped up again, as if reacting to her anxiety. “And given that, as I said, Necromancers cannot resurrect themselves… well, this individual—the Necromancer—had to manipulate a few rules to achieve it.”
“Hang on, hang on, hang on.” I raised my hands, trying to keep hold of all these dangling threads. “You said Erebus can’t intervene with djinn magic? Does that mean—”
“Erebus cannot do anything about his errant former slave.” She nodded, finishing my sentence for me. “The amulet is bound with djinn magic, as I mentioned, which makes it indestructible. At least by Erebus’s hand. Another could destroy it, perhaps, but they would find it exceedingly difficult. Anyway, it serves to shroud him from Erebus’s gaze and provides him the necessary means to move unseen.”
Santana edged closer to me and leaned against my arm. “That’s probably why Davin keeps gunning for Finch. He’s clearly got major beef with his former boss, and he’ll want to do everything he can to screw with Erebus’s plans.”
I nodded, my stomach roiling. “And since Finch is involved in those plans, he’s moved to the top of Davin’s most-wanted list—to ruin Erebus’s endgame.”
“I am sorry I have nothing more comforting to offer you.” Safiya dipped her chin to her chest, white veins pulsating beneath her red flesh.
“At least you’ve given us a clue about Davin. That’s more than Erebus did,” I replied. But would knowing Davin’s motivations really help us, or Finch? I had no idea. I needed to mull it over, see if we could coax some loophole open to aid our friend.
Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time for that kind of mulling. The elders had stopped flailing wildly and were heading back to where we sat. I felt Santana’s tension, and she likely felt mine. What answer had they come to? It took all my willpower to stay still and wait for them to speak.
“Mahmoud? What conclusion have you reached?” Safiya jumped in, her tone discreetly hopeful.
The wizened djinn sketched a bow before replying. “We have conversed at length and agree that the best course of action is to forge a collective and assert ourselves against Erebus, by going to Tartarus to confront him and sever ourselves from his power. However, we must give everyone a voice in this, considering what the consequences may be. First, we must summon all the djinn in the world and discuss it further once everyone is gathered.”
If this all ends in a blaze of misery and viscera, you will be the one responsible. Kadar made his voice known. Fortunately, we may not live to be held accountable. If Erebus rejects this, I will be obliterated, and you will suffer the wrench of my departure.
Can you be positive, for once? I shot back silently.
I heard him chuckle coldly inside my skull. I just want to get in an “I told you so” while I have the chance.
“I entirely agree,” Safiya said. “Everyone must have the opportunity to choose. I will summon the djinn so we may hold a forum.”
She raised her arms. White light, tinged with a reddish hue, slithered from her eyes and down into her chest. Her heart ignited as the light burst from her, her every pulse visible. The sheer force of the explosion bent her backward at an impossible angle, and we beheld the spiraling vortex of raw energy as it tunneled through the night sky. It seemed to pierce the atmosphere, glowing ripples palpitating outward in a steady rhythm.
The desert responded. Black clouds rolled in, and thunder roared in the distance. Cold spits of rain splashed my upturned face. A wall of sand raced over the dunes, and forks of red lightning splintered through, briefly illuminating eerie flying shadows, all headed in our direction. The winds screamed a rallying cry as the gathered djinn lifted their hands, their own hearts igniting in kind, all linking together as one. Glancing down, I noticed my own heart glowing through my skin.
Have you literally had a change of heart? I asked Kadar.
What can I say? Where Santana’s life is concerned, I can be persuaded to put aside my moral compass, he replied. Let’s just hope it doesn’t get us all killed, shall we?
I glanced at Santana. Her eyes were fixed on the sky, her head tilted upward, highlighting the smooth curve of her neck and the serene beauty that gleamed from her when she was deep in thought. Not that she wasn’t always beautiful. I’d seen her first thing in the morning, her hair sticking up and her eyes puffy, and thought she was the most stunning woman to ever exist. I followed her gaze to the shadows falling from the storm clouds. My heart lurched in fear, but I reminded myself that this was a good thing. The djinn were heeding Safiya’s call. Maybe, just maybe, she’d convince them to agree to this insane idea.
Wispy tendrils of smoke twisted downward, landing in solid djinn form in the oasis of Salameh, wedging in wherever they found room. Flying figures hurtled in from the sandstorms, carried in on the winds, while other djinn appeared out of nowhere. Before our eyes, thousands of red-eyed djinn stood, stretching so far that they filled the city and beyond, some perched on the dunes out of necessity.
Looks like Daddy decided to join us. Kadar pulled a few strings, making me turn my head toward the latest arrivals. Sure enough, Zalaam stood there, his heart aglow, his eyes burning.
Fight Erebus, I silently urged, to no djinn in particular. It won’t be easy, but nothing worth doing has ever been easy. Fight your master and be free!
If they didn’t, then all our hope would disappear, and so would they. Along with my chance at a normal life with Santana, slipping away like the sand of this desert running through my fingers.
Twenty-Four
Finch
Ah, the Great White North. The Great White Nothing was more like it. One good thing came out of Canada: maple syrup. Maybe ice hockey too, and I didn’t mind staring at a moose or a beaver from time to time. But definitely not the weather, which was freezing off my extremities at this very moment. And definitely not Ryann’s favorite serial killer—the boyfriend, Adam. He might’ve come from the French part. I’d never bothered to ask.
Snow charmed a lot of people, people who hadn’t trudged through it across harsh terrain for the last two hours, trying to find a crashed airplane. Icy flakes wafted endlessly from a dark gray sky, making this entire trek ten times as grim.
The town of Churchill squatted in the distance, and puffs of black smoke rose from the trains that rattled in and out, bringing cargo to the banks of Hudson Bay. Calling it a town might’ve been too generous. The uniform gray-and-white buildings with hints of rusty red reminded me of some Scandinavian, middle-of-nowhere glimmer of civilization.
A couple larger buildings cropped up ahead—factories or depots of some kind. One stood right on the edge of the water. A monolith of industry. No idea what it was for, though I’d seen oil tankers on the horizon, so maybe it had something to do with them. I cast one eye over my shoulder, in case a polar bear crept up on me.
Polar Bear Capital of the World… A quick phone search earlier, before I’d left Gatsby’s Speakeasy, had revealed that sweet nickname. Of course this Nash fella would be hiding out here with some of earth’s most vicious predators.
I wasn’t having much luck getting cell signal out here, which meant no contact with Raffe. Freezing my plums off in the wilderness, freaking out about polar bears, and not being able to find this friggin�
� plane carcass created the perfect melting pot for a foul mood. And my gremlins didn’t let me forget about Lux. Oh no, sir. That meeting had left me reeling, on top of Erebus’s quaint dinner. Weren’t there other poor suckers on this planet they could mess with instead? Six billion people, and they chose to toy with little old me.
What did Lux want from me? Did she expect to turn me into some kind of double agent? Clearly, she wanted me to tell her about Erebus’s movements and his progression toward Atlantis, which meant I hadn’t seen the last of her. Frankly, I should’ve been more worried about her popping up than ravenous bears.
I stopped on a slippery rock to catch my breath, the surface worn smooth from years of battering by the stormy waters beyond. Breathing here felt like dragging in shards of ice instead of air, and the shock on the back of my throat made me cough.
I hate you, Erebus. I really, really hate you.
Then I saw it. Below, partially hidden by the endless array of snow-covered rocks and sparse trees, the silvery shine of a downed plane caught the wintry sunlight. The last known location of Nash Calvert. Naturally, Erebus hadn’t bothered to teleport me anywhere near this plane. He’d wanted me to sweat for it. Sadistic asshole.
I clambered across the intersecting rocks and down to the crashed plane. It had some graffiti scrawled on it—the signature of bored teenagers with nothing better to do. With no Wi-Fi and no signal, it was only to be expected. Judging by the word “cargo” slapped on the side of the plane, this silver bird had carried freight before its untimely demise. And, though it was pretty sizeable, it looked truly abandoned.
Come on, Nash, where are you? I approached the plane and sent out some magical feelers. Fortunately, Erebus had instructed me on a spell I could use to break through any secret interdimensional walls.
I pressed my hands to the plane and spoke the words: “Removere velamen. Illud trahere seorsum. Ostende mihi verum. Videbo. Ne abscondas. Latitudo autem ante faciem meam ad quæ revelanda erat.”
Nothing happened. I tried again, which resulted in nothing again. A few faint sparks drifted to join the snow, but that was it. If Nash had ever hidden himself here, he was long gone.
An expletive tingled on the end of my tongue. My patience had worn so thin it was borderline transparent now. My gremlins weren’t helping. My Child of Chaos meetings had set them off again, wilder than before, and they had a grand old time in my head, making a mockery of logic and focused thought.
They were responsible for the paranoia about polar bears. They kept whispering that I would get munched, feel my skull pop like hard candy in a set of jagged jaws. And when I’d managed to talk myself out of that pit of fear, they lashed me with Lux’s expectations, images of Ryann being splattered across San Diego, and mutterings of Raffe failing his task in the UAE, resulting in Erebus splattering me once I’d done everything on his extensive list.
I couldn’t handle the barrage of images. My control slipped further with each tormenting hiss in my head. If I didn’t find Nash soon, I would wade into the bitter water of Hudson Bay and never come out again, just to shut them up for good.
Moving away from the plane in an even fouler mood, I spotted a fisherman up the bay. He sat perched on a huge rock, his rod dangling in the water. I dug a photo from the top pocket of my pathetically thin coat—about the only helpful thing Erebus had given me. The photo, not the coat. The coat was mine, the only cold-weather item I owned. However, it worked for San Diego cold, not Canadian frostbite cold.
“Excuse me!” I shouted to the guy. He looked middle-aged and was dressed in a puffy orange jacket complete with a furry hood that turned me green with envy.
He glanced down at me, then set his rod on a mount. “Hello there!”
I hurried toward him as fast as my legs, and this terrain, allowed. “Could I pick your brain for a minute?”
“By all means, my friend.” The man smiled with Canadian warmth. “I’m not doing much; the nibblers aren’t nibbling.”
Lucky for them…
“Here, you have yourself a sip of this. You’re about to catch your death. This weather often catches folks unawares.” The man unscrewed a thermos and poured some coffee, then handed the filled cup to me. I had no pride left to refuse, so I practically snatched it from him, letting the heat radiate into my frozen hands. After giving myself a moment to enjoy the warmth, I handed him the photo.
“Do you recognize this guy?” I asked. “He might be using the name Nash Calvert.”
The man scanned the photo. “Nope, I’m sorry to say I don’t recognize him. And I don’t know any fella out here by that name. It’s a small town, my friend, so I would have heard it. It might be that he’s going by a different name.”
“You could be right.” After all, he wouldn’t be much of a runaway if he went and used his real name. Yeah, dumbass. My gremlins gave me a kick, just to make me feel twice as stupid.
“Try asking along the bay—I don’t go into town much these days, so it might be that he’s a newcomer I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting yet,” the man said. “And take this with you. You need it more than me, from the looks of you.” He took a woolen blanket from his pack and handed it to me. I took it gratefully and threw it over my shoulders before reclaiming my photo. Someone in this godforsaken place must have seen Nash. He may have been the king of hide and seek, but he had human needs—food, water, etcetera. He had to have left his hole at some point.
“Thank you.” I wrapped the blanket tighter around me.
“Think nothing of it, my friend. I hope you find this fella.”
I sighed. “Yeah, me too.” He didn’t bother to ask why I was searching for the guy, and he hadn’t thought twice about giving up a blanket for me—a total stranger. Either the cold had dulled his brain to dimwitted proportions, or this was the fabled Canadian trust and friendliness in action. This would never have happened in San Diego, for sure. Maybe I just wasn’t used to folks doing favors for others, no questions asked.
I pressed on up the rocky bay, passing beachcombers and fishermen and folks taking their soggy dogs for a walk. I showed each one the photo and received similar replies. Nash had covered his tracks. With every disappointing response, my gremlins got rowdier. My clothes were drenched in sweat, and I couldn’t tell if I was roasting or frozen to the bone. My mouth dried, my hands shook, and my brain bombarded me with worst-case scenarios. Worse, it showed no sign of letting up.
Finally, after another hour of walking and shoving Nash’s photo in people’s faces, I sat on a nearby rock and held my head in my hands. Closing my eyes didn’t help fend off the gremlins. Neither did deep breathing. And I refused to bother with any new-age meditation—that amounted to a pile of horse crap for me. My temples throbbed, as if readying themselves to explode.
Tears stung as I lifted my head, staring out at the bleak ocean. Gray water churned beneath a gray sky—everything gray, everything hopeless. Being alone didn’t help. If I’d had someone here, they’d have talked me out of my wallowing, or given me something else to focus on.
“Hey!” A voice pierced the air. A young woman wandered across the rocks with a big, slavering Newfoundland plodding alongside. Her pale face poked out of a furred hood, her nose pink from the cold. With all that padding, I couldn’t help but think of a caterpillar.
I pointed at my chest. “Me?”
“Yep, you. I just passed my neighbor with Beethoven here, and he said you were looking for someone?”
“Beethoven?” I smiled despite myself. “I love that movie.”
She chuckled, the fur of her hood fluttering in the icy wind. “Me, too. Otherwise this lump would’ve ended up with some other name, wouldn’t you?” She scratched the dog between its ears. “So, who’s this person you’re looking for? I work at the police station, so there aren’t too many people I don’t know.”
I pulled out the photo without much hope. “This guy.”
“Oh, that’s Ed Gillespie.”
My jaw damn near disconnected
. “What?”
“That’s Ed Gillespie. He drifts in and out of town, but he’s got a cabin and some land up yonder.” She pointed away from the bay. “Is he a friend of yours? I’ve got to say, he’s never been overly sociable. Keeps to himself.” Her voice took on an officerly note. No doubt a force of habit, in her line of work. Though I couldn’t imagine she dealt with much crime up here: a few disorderly seals, maybe, or a gang of dumpster-diving bears.
“Uh… more like family business. I’m his cousin, and our grandma just died.” The lies rolled off my tongue. “We’ve been trying to get in touch with him for days, but there’s not much signal up here, and I figured face-to-face is best, anyway.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” She ruffled Beethoven’s fur absently. “Well, if you follow the railway lines from town, to where the woodland gets real dense, you’ll spot a forest track a few miles down. It’s got a white signpost with a wolf carving. That’ll lead you right to Ed’s cabin. Last I heard, he was home.”
Last Erebus heard, Nash had an interdimensional bubble in that crashed plane, and look how that turned out… I banished the snark, choosing gratitude instead. This caterpillar woman may have saved my skin. At the very least, she’d given me enough to stop me from making good on my impulse to wade into that gray water.
“Thank you, Miss—?”
“Call me Reeann—that’s with an ‘ee’ not a ‘y,’ though I suppose it doesn’t matter since it sounds the same.” She extended a gloved hand and laughed, her blue eyes twinkling.
Of course that’s her name. “I’m Steve,” I lied, shaking her hand. A wolf-whistle pierced my brain—one of my Puffball-looking jerks having a joke at my expense. I winced as the delusion splintered through bone and flesh, making my ear canals quiver.
“You okay there, Steve?”
I nodded. “I’m fine, just a bit chilly. Can’t feel my fingers anymore. But who needs all ten, right?”
Harley Merlin 12: Finch Merlin and the Djinn’s Curse Page 20
