“I don’t think things are going to work out for us,” she said.
I froze halfway to my chair. “Come again?”
“You’re a morning person.” Her inflection suggested this offense was graver than murdering puppies or being a Jerry Springer fan. “I can’t believe you never told me.”
“Hey, nobody’s perfect.” I tried to keep my tone light so she wouldn’t hear how much she’d scared me. She was the one thing I couldn’t lose again. “I don’t bag on you for your flaws.”
“And what would those be?”
“For one thing, you don’t wet your toothbrush.
Freak.” She made a sound that could’ve been a laugh, and sipped her coffee. “Mmm. Okay, I forgive you.” She folded both hands around the mug. One finger caressed the rim, an unconscious and idly sensual gesture. “Seriously, what’s got you bright eyed at six in the morning? I figured you’d sleep until dinner, at least.”
“I’m worried about global warming.”
“Gimme a break.”
“The rain forest?”
“Strike two.” She flashed a concerned smile. “Spill. What’s on your mind?”
“Well …” I toyed with my coffee cup and tried to find words. How could I tell her that I had a life-threatening curse, and that there was a good chance our son would suffer for it? It’s like this, babe. Cyrus inherited your hair, my eyes, your skin, and my drastically reduced life expectancy. Somehow I didn’t think that would go over well. “A dream woke me up. Bad one,” I said. “Then I came down here, and Ian was drinking my beer.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah.” I slugged back some coffee, frowned. “So we had a chat.”
“About that Morai you ran into?”
“More or less.”
“What else?”
I stared at the table. It’d probably be better to just blurt it out, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I decided to ease into the subject. “How’s Cyrus doing?”
“He’s fine. And that’s not what I asked you.” She glanced back toward the doorway. “But speaking of Cy … we need to talk.”
I bit my lip. That was female code for I’m unhappy about something and it’s your fault. “Whatever it is, I’m completely innocent,” I said.
“Uh-huh.” If the sarcasm were any thicker, she could’ve painted with it.
I opened my mouth to protest again, and the sound of small feet bumping down the stairs drifted in. After a minute, Cyrus stopped in the doorway and blinked blearily at us. “Hi, Daddy. Mommy, can I watch cartoons?”
“Sure, baby. I’ll fix us some breakfast.” She stood, caught my gaze, and mouthed Talk later.
I turned my attention to Cy. “Hey, big guy. Did I miss anything exciting while I was gone?”
He nodded solemnly. “I catched a snake.”
“You did, huh?” I stifled a laugh. “Mommy must’ve enjoyed that.”
“Aunt ’Kila said good job, but Mommy wouldn’t come see.”
“I’ll bet.” I grinned and winked at Jazz. She rolled her eyes. Her and snakes got along like salt and slugs.
Cyrus yawned wide enough to showcase his tonsils, then his face lit up in a beaming smile. “Daddy, watch this!”
Before I could say I’m watching, he disappeared.
When Jazz didn’t scream, I assumed she’d seen this before. “So, this is what you wanted to talk about, right?”
She nodded. Her eyes didn’t leave the spot where Cyrus had been just seconds ago. “Can you see him?” she whispered.
“I’m right here, Mommy.” Cy’s voice, minus his visible presence, was a lot creepier than Ian’s when he was invisible. “I’m all shiny. See?”
“Oh, boy.” I moved closer to him and crouched down. “Cy, that’s pretty cool,” I said. “Does it hurt?”
“It feels funny.”
“Yeah, it usually does.” I held an arm out. “Can you grab my hand?”
“Sure, Daddy.”
A quick intake of breath from Jazz marked the moment he made contact. Now I could see him, and the shimmer-haze that enveloped both of us. “Wow, Cyrus,” I said. “When did you learn how to do this?”
“Dunno.”
“Okay. Will you do something for me? I want you to let go of my hand, and take Mommy’s. All right?”
“Donatti, I don’t know about that. I mean, I’m not … like you guys.”
I let go of Cy. Straightened, and smiled at her. “Trust me.”
“Sure. Trust you.” But she knelt down and extended her arm for the unseen Cyrus. “Okay, baby. Go ahead.”
An instant later, Jazz popped out of sight.
“Whoa.”
I had to laugh. “When he does that, you’ll be able to see him anytime you’re touching him. And no one else can see you.”
“So I’m invisible.”
“Yep.”
At once, they both flashed back. Cyrus frowned. “What’s ivin-zee-bo?”
“It means shiny.” Jazz shot me a look, and I kept my mouth shut. “Cy, why don’t you go out and put some cartoons on? Breakfast’ll be ready in a minute.”
“ ’Kay.”
We watched him wander in the direction of the living room, and I turned a skeptical look on Jazz. “Shiny?” I said. “Why didn’t you just tell him what it means?”
“Because if he knows nobody can see him, he’ll disappear when he’s supposed to take a bath, or eat vegetables, or anything else he doesn’t feel like doing.” She exhaled and ran a hand down her face. “Other moms just worry about potty training and puberty. I get Invisible Boy.”
“Come on, babe. It’s not that bad.”
She glared at me. Without a word, she turned away and headed for the fridge.
I watched her yank out a box of frozen waffles and tear the top open. She probably wished it was my head. “Jazz, I’m sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t sure what to be sorry for. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.”
The single word was a bullet—and it hurt just as much. My mouth opened, but no sound emerged, so I closed it. I tried again. Couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Jazz slammed the box down with a low curse and leaned on the counter, head hanging. “Look, Gavyn …” She drew in a sharp breath, and kept her gaze averted. “When I found out I was pregnant, and you were gone, I made a decision. I was going to raise my baby. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. But I also knew it could be done. There’s a lot of single parents out there—”
“Christ. Twist the knife a little harder, Jazz.”
“Let me finish.” She straightened, looked at me, and her eyes were diamonds. Glittering and hard. “I was ready for it. I understood the rules. Then you came back and broke them all.”
“So you’re saying you don’t want me around?”
“No. Shut up and listen for a minute.”
I just about had to bite my tongue, but I obliged.
She folded her arms and stared at nothing. “It’s not you. It’s the other stuff. All this … magic.” Her mouth twisted around the word. “That part of him, of both of you, I’ll never understand. I can’t connect with it. There aren’t any rules to follow.” For an instant, her habitual iron confidence evaporated and she looked small and lost. “Things will never be normal for us. That’s hard for me to face.”
Something heavy lodged in my chest. I wanted to tell her she was wrong, assure her that everything would be all right—but a lie that big would hurt both of us. And I couldn’t part with the truth either. I’d left her in the first place because I didn’t want to let her down, the way I did everyone else I knew. But I’d screwed her over even more by coming back.
She must’ve read the devastation in my face, because she approached me and took my hand. “Don’t,” she whispered. “We’ll find a way. I just need a little space right now, okay? Time to think.”
“Yeah. Guess I do too.” I swallowed hard. The lump in my throat stayed put. “I’m gonna step outside and smoke.”
J
azz didn’t object. No matter how much I wished she would.
I slipped out the back door and circled around to the garage, where I kept my smokes on the ground floor. Once again, I was fucking everything up without even trying. Donatti’s Luck Strikes Back. With a vengeance.
Chapter 10
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting on the garage floor and staring out the open door, but it must’ve been awhile. Long enough to smoke four cigarettes that I didn’t even remember lighting. If I’d been pondering the meaning of life, I could’ve arrived at a conclusion by now—but I wasn’t thinking much. I couldn’t get past the idea that I was completely screwed.
Finally, I decided sitting around feeling sorry for myself was counterproductive. I could be failing to sleep instead. I stood, indulged in a brief stretch—and only incurred a minor heart attack when I realized I wasn’t alone. “Hey, Princess,” I said after my pulse throttled down to a mild sprint. “Want my last beer? Ian drank the rest.”
Akila wrinkled her nose. “I had wondered what that stench was.” She approached for a few steps and stopped. “I assume he has explained the ham’tari to you.”
“Yep.” I lit a fresh smoke. Lung cancer was pretty low on my list of deadly possibilities right now. “Can’t say it made me feel better, but at least I know.”
“I hope you will not hold it against him. He is not at fault.”
I shook my head. “You really do love the grumpy bastard, don’t you?”
“I do.” She smiled and touched her thumb to the base of her left index finger. A glowing gold band shone there briefly. Ian had the same enchanted ring. I’d gotten a crash course in djinn marriage from him—they bonded for life, and only death could shatter the rings that symbolized the bond. “For the sake of the gods I am sometimes not certain why, but I do.”
“Yeah. I hear that.” I’d given Jazz plenty of reasons not to love me. And I still had at least one more to lay out. It’d be a miracle if she didn’t gut me after I finally managed to explain the damned curse.
Since envisioning Jazz pounding my face in didn’t exactly lift my spirits, I tried for a change of subject. “How’d you and Ian hook up, anyway? I thought your clans didn’t mix.”
Akila’s smile faltered, and her gaze flicked up to where Ian presumably slept above us. “Perhaps you should ask my husband,” she said.
“I’m asking you.” I gave her my best trust-me grin. “Come on, Princess. What happened to the lady who told her husband exactly where he could stick the idea of sending her back to the djinn realm without him?”
She laughed. “Very well. But it is a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
Akila nodded and made her way to one of the lawn chairs near the garage door. She sat, and I leaned back on the hood of Jazz’s Hummer. It took her a minute to get started. At last she said, “We were quite young. Not yet a century, either of us. Then, my father was considering a marriage proposal made for me by the cousin of a Bahari High Council member.”
I frowned. “So the djinn practice arranged marriages?”
“Only among the nobility.” She cast her gaze down for an instant. “His name was Nurien. He and his father had been living at the palace for several weeks. Though he was merely a century older, at the time he was twice my age—and I did not like him.”
“Can’t blame you there. It had to seem like marrying your grandfather.”
“Yes. But it was not merely the difference in years. He was … wrong, somehow. I did not trust him. And he did prove himself to be most untrustworthy.” She folded her hands in her lap, like she couldn’t decide what to do with them. “A few days before my father was to announce his decision, a small band of strangers arrived at the palace seeking audience with the Council. They were Dehbei. Among them were their clan leader, Omari-el, and his son. The prince Gahiji-an.”
I grinned. “Love at first sight?”
“Fascination, at the least.” A slight blush rose in her cheeks. “My father had not yet permitted me to attend Council meetings, and I was not encouraged to leave the palace grounds. I had never seen any of the Doma before.”
“You guys have too many names. I thought it was Dehbei.”
Her flush deepened. “Doma means lower caste. Those who seat the Council are Pashi, and the rest … forgive me. It is not a pleasant term.”
I shrugged. “No big deal. Humans have some pretty unpleasant terms too.”
“They do indeed.” Some of the color faded from her features. “My father was displeased, of course. Barbarians, he called them, and warned me not to speak with them. He could not refuse them audience, but he would not allow them inside the palace before the Council convened the following day. He forced them to make berth in the courtyard. Like animals.”
“Your father’s an asshole,” I said. “Sorry, Princess.”
She nodded agreement. “Despite the warning, I could not ignore their presence. I wanted to observe them. So I installed myself in a small outbuilding near the outlying border of the courtyard, and …” Her brow furrowed, and then a half smile pulled at her mouth. “Perhaps it would be better to show you. I am no storyteller.”
“Uh. This won’t involve time travel or anything, will it? I have a paradigm-shift phobia.”
“Not at all.” She raised her arms and whispered a few djinn words. Her hands slowly described a rough circle in the air. As they moved, her fingers left contrails of blazing light behind. She brought her hands together to close the circle, and the patch of trapped air shimmered and warped. An image resolved itself—a castle, gleaming white against a blue-violet sky. The building looked like it had been crafted from clouds. A small, dark shape that might have been a bird streaked across the backdrop.
I blinked, but the image stayed put. “Whoa. Djinn TV.”
A delighted laugh escaped Akila. “It is a thought-form. An illusion of memory. Watch.”
She gestured at me, and sounds filled my ears. A soft wind, rustling movement, murmured voices. The castle pulled back, and the image panned like a camera over a courtyard of lush grass and patterned flagstones. In the center was a floating tree, sculpted of flowing water with leaves of flame, turning slow revolutions in midair. I remembered hearing about it—the elemental fountain, representing earth, air, water, and fire. It was supposed to glow red at sunset.
On the far side of the fountain, a group of djinn sat on the grass or stood in twos and threes. Maybe fifteen altogether. All of them had the same shaggy, streaked hair and dusky weathered skin. And eyes like wolves. They wore vests and form-fitting pants; heavy boots; and long, hooded cloaks, all in shades of brown. Most of them had taken their cloaks off and spread them on the ground to sit or lie on, revealing hard muscle and the distinctive raised armband tattoos Ian sported.
They’d obviously traveled rough to get there. To the last one, they were dirt smudged, dust covered, and weary in expression and motion. More than one looked furious enough to eat raw iron and spit out nails.
One of them standing in a group bore a strong resemblance to Ian, though he looked older than Ian did now. I assumed he was Omari-el, his father. The clan leader seemed almost happy, and the faint lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth suggested perpetual cheer. Ian definitely hadn’t inherited that from him. He gestured to a djinn sprawled on the ground a few feet away, who struggled to his feet and approached slowly.
Omari-el detached a cloth bag that hung from his waist and held it out. “Drink, Jai,” he said. “I know you are empty.”
The one called Jai accepted with a grateful nod. He held the narrow end of the bag to his lips and tipped the bottom up. Clear water dripped from the corners of his mouth as he drank. When he finished, he handed it back and jerked his head in the direction of the fountain. “A shame these pompous birds prefer form over function. Such a waste of perfectly fine water.”
“Aye.” Omari-el laughed and extended a hand. “Give me your skin.”
Jai unhooked a similar bag. “Most of
us are dry. And we’ve little food left.” A brittle smile stretched his mouth. “Perhaps we should feast on falcon tonight.”
“Easy, brother. It would be most impolite to eat our hosts.”
“Hosts!” Jai snorted. “Omi, you are far too generous. These are jailers, and we are herding ourselves straight into their cells.”
A shadow passed over Omari-el’s features, but it cleared quickly. “We have come on our terms,” he said. “If the Council will not listen, we will depart on them as well.” The undercurrent of steel running through his words seemed to calm Jai. The clan leader turned and clasped the shoulder of the djinn nearest him. “Roan-el. Gather the skins, take Meiri with you, and go to the lodge we passed. Get water and food. And if you encounter a problem, tell them we will simply help ourselves to those fine, fat animals conveniently tethered in their stables, unable to escape our blades.”
Laughter wound its way through the gathering. As the others moved to comply, Omari-el scanned the group and the grounds. A stern frown pressed his lips together. “Where is my son?”
“Off sulking, no doubt.” Jai flashed a genuine grin. “The boy was most unimpressed with these windbags. I believe he expected golden stone and emerald grass, and a bit of a richer reception than the spit in the eye we received.”
“Ah, well.” Omari-el shook his head. “He will return when hunger bites his belly.”
The view shifted abruptly, racing across grass to a small stone building on the opposite side of the fountain. The image flickered twice and resolved itself to show the inside of the structure, and a young Akila standing to the side of a window, watching the Dehbei with focused intensity. She was as breathtaking then as she was now. The gossamer dress she wore looked spun from silver spiderwebs, and strands of a similar material had been plaited into the long, silken sweep of her dark hair. Even her skin seemed to sparkle in the light streaming through the window.
The single spacious room contained a few strange long-handled tools along one wall, and a pile of pale dried grass that was almost hay, but not quite, in a corner. There was no door or flap over the arched opening on the back end of the building that served as an entrance. After a minute, a male djinn dressed in garish gold satin walked through and stopped in the center of the room. Sleek raven hair and impossibly round black-ringed eyes proclaimed him Bahari—and the sneer on his face said he wasn’t nearly as impressed with the courtyard view as Akila.
Master and Apprentice Page 9
