by A. Blythe
I grabbed a leather whip from the hand of the nearest mannequin and ran toward the gunman before he had time to recover. Farah was sufficiently pissed off. Judging from the angry look in her eyes, she might decide to ignore my plea for leniency.
The whip snapped at his wrist and he released the gun. Farah caught it before it hit the floor and aimed it at his head.
“Don’t shoot him,” I said.
Farah yanked him by the collar and pressed the metal barrel against his temple. “I won’t as long as he stays still.”
I turned around to see how Katrien was faring. Her gunman was slumped on the floor in front of the counter, blood dripping from his nose. I raced over to check on him.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I only punched him,” Katrien said. “I did not trust myself to use magic.” Tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes.
I checked his pulse to confirm what I already knew. “You punched his nose?”
She nodded and sniffed. “He crumpled. I do not understand.” She picked up his gun from the floor and handed it to me. “The police will need this.”
Farah marched over with the accomplice. “This guy is lost in his own head. He hasn’t said two words.” She poked him in the stomach. “Have you?”
No response. The man stared into space, seemingly unaware that his colleague had just died.
“I’ll call Thompson,” I said. Again. “She’s not going to be happy.”
An injured bank guard was bad enough. Now we had an actual corpse. We needed to find out who was behind these criminal acts before the body count grew any higher.
“Do you think it could be another mobster with a mage?” Thompson asked. She’d arrived within fifteen minutes in her usual PTF uniform. It made me wonder if she slept in it.
“But why?” I asked. “What are they trying to steal? It’s obviously not money.”
“Not in my store,” Farah said with a laugh. Neither of us mentioned the armory. No need to tip off law enforcement. Anyway, I doubted that was the goal of the criminals. For one thing, they weren’t chanting about the armory the way the other men chanted about the vault.
“Whatever they’re looking for, it’s small,” I said, watching the dead man leave on a stretcher. His friend was already in the back of Thompson’s car in handcuffs.
“What makes you say that?” Thompson asked.
“The places they’re searching,” I explained. “Small drawers in the vault. The clothing of the mannequins. The cash register. They’re not looking for a rocket launcher.”
Thompson scribbled a few notes. “I’ll call Melania and let you know what I find out, but I suspect it’s going to be more of the same.”
I knew what she meant. Memory wipes and no clue how they ended up in the adult entertainment store.
“Make sure a magically-trained coroner performs the autopsy,” I said. “I want to know if this guy had a ticking time bomb implanted. He shouldn’t have died from a punch to the nose. Katrien’s not even operating at full strength.” I’d given Thompson a brief summary of Katrien’s situation when the Marid was in the bathroom.
“I’d like to know that one, too.” Thompson closed her notepad. “I’ll let you ladies get back to your evening out. Alyse, I’ll be in touch.”
As soon as she left the store, I began to straighten up the mannequins.
“Leave it, Alyse,” Farah said. “We’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll just open late.”
“Are you sure?” I hated to leave the mannequin without her whip. It seemed undignified.
Farah nodded. “I’ll just get angry if I stay in here.”
“Okay. Let me grab my yantoks and I’ll meet you in the car,” I said.
“We are still going out?” Katrien asked, her wide eyes darting from me to Farah.
“Damn straight,” Farah said. “I won’t be able to sleep for hours now. I need to work off this aggression.”
“How’s your leg?” I asked.
She shook her injured leg at me. “I’ll be done limping by the time we get there.”
I wagged a finger at her. “Fine, you can drink but no dancing.”
9
Farah danced on the bar like no one was watching, much to the delight of The Night Owl patrons. Khalil didn’t usually allow college-style shenanigans in his establishment, but he made an exception for Farah because she was a faithful customer and my good friend.
“She seems like she knows how to enjoy herself,” Katrien said, taking a sip of her white wine. Farah tried to persuade her to try fireball shots, but Katrien politely declined.
“It’s one of my favorite things about her,” I said.
“And you have been friends for a long time?”
“Mix. Farah. Me. That was our motley crew.”
“A Hinn and a Jann. Better than human companions. Janns in particular are a worthy caste.”
Despite her fragile state, I couldn’t let the comment slide. “Detective Thompson is human,” I said. “My handler was human. I’ve known plenty of worthy human companions.”
“Forgive me. I meant no offense.”
Farah finally returned to the table for another drink. She didn’t look as cheerful as I expected.
“Your leg’s clearly feeling better,” I said. “Why aren’t you?”
Farah sighed. “You know what I was thinking about the whole time I was up there?”
“Last call?” I asked.
She stared at the blank screen on her phone. “Luciano.”
That was not the answer I expected. “Are you being serious?”
“He invited me over, but I said no.” She blew a few unruly strands of hair out of her line of sight.
“Why would you do that?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I felt like I needed to. I don’t want him to think I’ll bite every time he throws me a line.”
Ah, dating rituals. I didn’t miss them.
“And now you’re sitting here, thinking you could be with the only surfing member of the crime syndicate instead of here with two targets for trouble?”
“To be fair, Luciano brings his own brand of trouble to the table,” she said.
True. Rocco would be less than thrilled if he found out.
“We absolve you of your duty here,” I said, with a flick of my fingers. “Tell him Thompson and I are back on a case. He’ll enjoy that.”
Farah tapped her fingers on the edge of the table. “I don’t know…”
“What are you worried about?” It wasn’t like Farah not to jump up and do exactly what she intended. She neither dillied nor dallied.
“What if he’s with someone?” she asked. “I said no, so maybe he called the next girl on his list.”
“So call him before you get there,” I said.
“And ruin the element of surprise?” she asked, aghast. “Not a chance.” She downed the rest of her beer. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. I’m heading over. Should I leave the Prius?”
“No, we’re fine. You got shot in the leg. You should drive.”
Farah jutted out her hip. “You did see me dancing, right?”
“Could only have missed it if my eyes were closed.” She tried to hand me the key, but I pressed it back into her palm. “Take the car and go see Luciano. Katrien and I will make our own way home.”
She was already halfway to the door before I finished my answer. “See you in the morning,” she called over her shoulder.
I snuck a peek at Katrien, who looked bored out of her mind. “So we can go now, right?”
Her chair leg scraped against the floor. “I was ready an hour ago.”
I made sure to pass by the bar on the way out. “Have a good night, Khalil. Thanks again.”
He shook my hand. “Anytime, my friend. Good luck to you, Katrien.”
She lowered her head. “Thank you. You have an excellent establishment. I hope to come again.”
I nearly choked on my laughter. That was one thing I could say about Katrien—she was a ter
rible liar.
The streets were darker than usual as Katrien and I walked toward South Street. The moon was hidden by thick clouds and half the streetlights were out.
“It is so quiet here for a city,” she murmured.
“It’s the middle of the night,” I reminded her. “Most intelligent people are in bed.”
“What was it like to grow up here?” she asked.
“Perfectly fine, but I never thought I’d be living here again.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “It’s the price I pay for arrogance.”
Her eyebrow quirked. “You think arrogance cost you your freedom?”
“It’s on the short list. What do you think cost you yours?”
“Blindness,” she said quickly. “I thought he loved me. That he would take care of me.”
“You seem like someone capable of taking care of herself. Why would you want that?”
“Just because I can doesn’t mean I should. Haven’t you ever fantasized about someone solving your problems for you? Handling all the difficulties?”
I considered it, but not for long. “No. Handing over authority means losing my autonomy. That’s one of the reason I didn’t stay with PAN after the Academy.”
Katrien tripped over a crooked bit of sidewalk and I caught her arm before she could fall. “You refused PAN because you did not want them to control your life? But is that not what you allowed the Shadow Elite to do?”
I shrugged. “Less paperwork.”
“They owned you, Alyse. Like Aladdin owns his djinn.”
She was right. Just like Jamie had been right. “You sound like Jamie.”
“Who is he?”
“My handler. He’s dead now.”
“A thousand condolences. He died of natural causes?”
“He died of murder. That’s all I know.”
She squeezed my arm. “I suppose you no longer have contacts to keep you informed of developments.”
“No, I am officially a ghost.” I didn’t tell her about the mysterious caller who informed me of Jamie’s death. She didn’t need the details and I didn’t feel comfortable sharing them.
Somewhere, a cat hissed in the darkness and my heart began to race.
“Someone’s behind us,” I whispered. “Put your game face on and keep walking.”
“It could be people like us, no?” she asked. “Coming home after a night out?”
“It could be, but I always trust my gut, Katrien. And my gut says we’re about to be attacked.”
I unsheathed my yantoks and spun around to face our assailants. The two Ifrits materialized just as my yantoks extended. They weren’t the most thuggish Ifrits I’d ever seen. In their jeans and collared shirts, they struck me as suburban dwellers.
“Are you guys lost?” I asked. “Because Main Street USA is miles from here.”
“We were looking for a sheep that escaped the flock,” the taller Ifrit said. “It seems we’ve found her.”
“Please tell Little Bo Peep that her sheep has been liberated and if she doesn’t watch her step, she’s going to lose the whole damn flock.”
The Ifrits didn’t like that answer. Their eyes blazed red and I felt the shift coming before it even happened.
“Laser,” I whispered, and the yantoks glowed a brilliant white. Although I promised myself I would only use the laser aspect of the weapon out of absolute necessity, I had to be ready. Plus, it looked badass.
Katrien’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you couldn’t do magic.”
“This isn’t djinn magic. It’s one of Pinky’s spells.” I lunged toward the Ifrit on my right and swept the yantok beneath his feet, destabilizing him. He shifted to mist before he hit the ground. The other Ifrit grinned at me, showing off his pearly yellows. Seriously, he had no excuse for those teeth. Even without magic, there were plenty of over-the-counter products to whiten those chompers.
He summoned a knobkierie and I tightened the grip on my yantoks, ready to start swinging. The other Ifrit reappeared behind me, clutching an enormous club.
“I see you guys are partial to blunt force instruments,” I said.
“Aladdin wants his property back,” the club-wielding Ifrit said. His voice matched his description—large and in-charge.
“Hasn’t he ever heard of finder’s keepers?” I shot back.
“You have no idea who you’re up against,” the Ifrit said.
“Why do you guys always say things like that?” I asked. “You should be more concerned with who you’re up against.” I tapped my chin. “Or is it whom? I tend to mix those two up.”
“You should be less concerned with grammar and more concerned with not dying,” the Ifrit said, and lifted the club above his head, about to play whack-a-mole with my skull.
“A little help from the property would be nice,” I called over my shoulder. I couldn’t see Katrien. I hoped she was okay.
I blocked the club on the downswing with my yantok and pushed upward, loosening the Ifrit’s grip. A front thrust kick to the other Ifrit’s solar plexus failed to buy me any time. His body was layered with sinewy muscle. He raised the morning star above his head, ready to strike me the spiky end.
Looks like you have a handsome pair of admirers. A familiar voice cut through my thoughts.
A fireball streaked through the gloom and slammed into the Ifrit’s stomach with the force of a cannonball. He sailed through the air, unable to shift in time. His body smacked against one of the few working streetlights. The pole reverberated and the light bulb hissed and died.
Thanks, Reed.
My pleasure.
I stepped forward and pointed my yantoks at the ground on either side of the kneeling Ifrit, gearing up for a laser Taser finale.
“Tell Aladdin to watch his step,” I said. “He has no property here. This city and everything in it is ruled by Prince Simdan of the Marida court.” Okay, that wasn’t strictly true, but the message was clear. Katrien stays here.
“Prince Simdan has been challenged,” the Ifrit said, from his place on the concrete in front of the streetlight. His muscles were twitching and I knew he was trying to shift. “His power is no longer at its peak.”
So he was aware of the attempted coup at the Colony Games. I wasn’t surprised. Word traveled fast when a potential power vacuum was in play.
“And yet he retained his seat,” I said. “I wouldn’t advise betting against Prince Simdan. He’s a wily one and he’s been around for a very long time.”
“What do you want to do with them?” Reed asked. “Shall I apprehend them?”
I studied the Ifrits. “No, I’d like them to take the message back to Aladdin. Katrien remains free and he is not to send anyone else after her.”
“You are letting them go?”
I turned to see Katrien huddled on the bottom step of a nearby store.
“Katrien, are you all right?” I asked. She looked pale.
“I will be fine,” she said and shivered. She was probably experiencing some kind of PTSD. “They took me by surprise.”
“Me too.” I gave her a regretful look. “I’m not going to kill them.” The Ifrits appeared as shocked as she did.
“Why not?” she asked.
“I want Aladdin to see what mercy looks like. Maybe he’ll learn something.” Although it was doubtful, I wanted to try.
Reed grabbed the Ifrit under the shoulder and hoisted him to his feet. “You heard the lady. Take the message of mercy back to your master and don’t return or you’ll suffer the consequences.”
The Ifrit bowed slightly toward me. “Agreed.”
They shifted to mist and disappeared.
“I cannot believe you released them,” Katrien murmured.
“Katrien, this is Captain Grayson Reed.”
“You are a Naphil,” she said, releasing her grip on her knees.
“Not just a Naphil,” I said. “A Protector.”
Katrien looked at me askance. “You fraternize with the Nephilim?”
“Not vol
untarily.”
Reed shot me an injured look.
My shoulders sagged. “Okay, sometimes voluntarily. He comes in handy in a pinch.”
“Yes, that is apparent.” She paused and inclined her head. “You coordinated your defense without speaking. How did you do that?”
“Oh, that’s his telepathy,” I explained. “We do this thing, don’t we?” I looked to him for confirmation. “Well, it isn’t our thing. He can read anyone’s mind. He just likes to take up residence in my head because he knows it annoys me.”
Katrien smiled vaguely. “I have never seen a Naphil fight before. The fireball was impressive.”
“You didn’t come across any European Protectors?” Reed asked. “We are a worldwide organization.”
“Oh, I know. I’ve heard many tales of your prowess.” Her tongue slid over her top lip. “But I have never had the pleasure of seeing one of you up close.”
“Stick around Philadelphia and you can’t help but see him up close,” I said. “Reed is like Starbucks. He’s everywhere.”
“Everywhere you are, apparently,” Katrien said.
“Yes, he has a habit of showing up unannounced.”
“Good thing, too,” Reed said. “You would’ve been a Happy Meal for those guys.”
“I held my own,” I said. Katrien—not so much. I’d thought she was regaining her strength. I guess it wasn’t enough to engage in hand-to-hand combat.
“So Katrien was the target?” Reed asked. “Are you sure it wasn’t you?”
“They asked for her,” I replied. He tracked her here, though, and that was a problem. For both of us.
“We should go,” Katrien said, grabbing me by the hand. “It makes me uncomfortable to be out here now.”
“Are we still on for dinner?” Reed asked.
“Is that why you were out here? To remind me about dinner?” That seemed implausible.
“No, Thompson told me about the break-in at Farah’s store. I wanted to check on you.”
Oh. That made more sense.
