by T. G. Ayer
He’d drunk the Kool-Aid.
Rizwan sucked the end of his pipe again, the popping sound scraping on my last nerve. Then he blew the thin line of smoke straight at Saleem, as though daring him to respond.
Still an immature child at heart it seemed.
Saleem merely responded with another sad smile. “I wish you could see what they’ve turned you into.”
“And what is that?” Rizwan arched an eyebrow, his eyes glittering.
“A puppet, a figurehead made to believe he is in charge when the truth is everything he spouts is purely the rhetoric shoved down his throat, everything he does is directed in such a subtle manner that he truly believes he is the master of his own destiny. He functions on a daily basis, ignorant to the fact that even his thoughts are not truly his own, to begin with. I hope that one day, when we take back Mithras, you will be able to look at yourself and see what you’ve become.”
Rizwan laughed coldly, the sound of fear mixed with power. The sound of danger. “You’re talking nonsense, Saleem. They warned me you’d try to confuse me with your rebel subtext. But I won’t fall for it. Just like I didn’t fall for that emotional upheaval in the wake of father’s passing. Were we—as a people—truly mourning a man who willingly and knowingly sliced through the holy thread of life? A man who committed the most heinous of crimes, the most terrible of insults to the gods who created him from the very embers of the universe?”
I blinked at Rizwan’s words, frowning at the sentiment, my emotions swirling at the pure pain in his voice. Even his aura bore the evidence of grief and loss. And I had to consider that I was looking at a son still grieving, still unable to reconcile the reality of his father having taken his own life.
Just then, Saleem snorted, bringing me back to the brothers’ conversation. “If you really believe that Father killed himself, then I have to say again that for all your apparent intelligence, you’re inherently stupid.”
Rizwan stiffened, his glamor slipping to reveal bronzed skin swirling with smoky tendrils. He surged to his feet, glowering at his brother. “Don’t you dare make excuses for him.” Rizwan stabbed a finger at Saleem, pipe forgotten as it dangled from now-limp fingers, dark green liquid dripping to the carpet.
“It isn’t an excuse,” Saleem replied with infinite calm. “If your head weren’t so far up your benefactors’ asses you’d be able to see the signs. You’d be capable of identifying how easily all the pieces have fit together. But you’re blinded to it because they’ve given you a glory that all your life you were told you’d never have.”
Rizwan laughed, the shrill sound slicing through the tension in the air. “Now who is the one sounding like they’ve eaten a bunch of sour grapes. Of course, you’d say that since I’m sitting on your throne.” He smirked, and my fingers curled into fists, making me aware that I’d gained back a fraction of my strength. A tiny bit, but it was a good sign.
“You’re welcome to the throne,” replied Saleem, tipping his head in a shallow bow. “I refuse to sit on it when I have to be a puppet. I prefer to pull my own strings, thank you very much.”
Rizwan scoffed. “Don’t you mean you prefer that Mother pull your strings? You were always the favorite son, weren’t you?”
I was so startled by that statement that I almost responded. I’d heard Aisha talk about her younger son with such a deep affection, with such admiration for his keen mind, that I found it hard to understand how he hadn’t seen it, how he’d seen something so totally other than the truth.
Saleem let out a dry, dark laugh. “No sane person would exchange the strings of a mother’s love with the chains of an oppressor.” He stared Rizwan down as the words swirled around them, in much the same way as the markings on the skins of the brothers. Even Saleem’s glamor had fallen, with him locked within the passion of his monologue.
Whatever Saleem had hoped to achieve, it appeared he’d failed; Rizwan merely waved a dismissive hand across the small table. “This conversation has grown tiresome. You may leave now. We can talk again tomorrow.” Though his voice resonated with confidence, imperious and dismissive now, I caught a hint of hesitation. A fraction of doubt that implied that he did know that he was a pretender after all.
Saleem smiled and waved his own hand, equally imperious as he glanced over at the door. “This is my room, brother,” he said, a gleam of satisfaction in his obsidian eyes.
Rizwan stared at his brother for a long moment, and I had to restrain the urge to laugh as the muscles in his cheeks twitched as though he really wanted to blow his top but was also embarrassed that his brother was effectively now dismissing him from the room.
Then he let out an angry huff, turned on his heel and marched to the double doors. Rizwan flung the doors open so hard that they opened all the way, the carved metal handles slamming into the walls. His violent exit startled the helmeted guard who’d been standing in the hall, his back to the room. For his jumpiness, the poor man was rewarded with a sharp slap on the back of his head, Rizwan apparently uncaring that his blow had connected with metal rather than the guard’s head.
Then the pretender king stormed down the hallway, leaving the guard standing frozen to the spot. Then his gaze flickered from the hallway to Saleem, who was still sitting at the edge of his chair, staring at the open door, expression indecipherable.
The guard cleared his throat, reached for the doors and closed them with a soft snick. I frowned, though, certain I’d caught the man giving Saleem an almost-imperceptible bow before he shut the door.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, brow furrowed.
“Mel?”
I flinched at the sound of Saleem’s voice, then spun around to meet the amusement on his face. A face that bore evidence of having recently come to blows with someone’s fists.
And from the looks of it, a number of fists, a number of times.
His left eyebrow was split and swollen, the cut still red with congealed blood. The skin around his eye sported a generous array of colors, from sickly yellow to purple to a dull blue.
“Nice look you got going there,” I said after composing myself. “Before you know it, you’ll be setting a new trend in Mithras.”
Saleem snorted, the edges of his form blurring as he transitioned to the astral plane. “Between my brother and his benefactor, they have that pretty much under control.”
I frowned some more and drew closer to him. “What do you mean? Are there others in captivity?”
His face went dark. “A few. Those who were not eliminated.”
The words sent a shiver along my spine. “Can we help them?” I asked, my voice urgent now. “I can go look…see if I can take them away to safety.”
Saleem shook his head. “You won’t be able to jump anyone out of Mithras. Not without being discovered.” He reached for me and pulled me into an ethereal embrace, an embrace that made me feel like staying right where I was, where I felt safe.
But I wasn’t.
If I didn’t do anything about it, my safe place was in danger of being very dead, very soon.
Problem was, I was failing spectacularly at the whole saving-of-people thing. So I was more than a little concerned about pulling it off.
I leaned into Saleem, his warmth evident though, in spite of his astral form. And it made me smile.
Chapter 8
“What’s funny,” Saleem asked, peering down at me as I rested my head against his chest.
“You’re hot,” I said, feeling a rush of sadness wash over me.
Saleem’s chest vibrated with laughter. “That’s what all the ladies say.”
I punched his chest lightly. “Not what I meant.” I spread my fingers across his muscles, pressing my palm against his warmth. “There’s heat in your astral form. Is that part of your djinn powers?”
“Yeah. It’s elemental magic, from what I know. I didn’t really pay all that much attention in Science of Djinn Power and its Interaction with the Physical and Ethereal Planes 101.”
I snickered. “That’s a mouthful.”
“It’s actually only the shortened title. I left out the other half that’s about energy manifestation and manipulation.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile.
Then I inhaled sharply, the ticking of time echoing inside my head as I again tested my life-thread—again a fraction stronger, though still nothing from Kai’s link. I moved away, patting Saleem’s chest with both my hands. I looked up at him, wanting desperately to take him away from his captivity.
His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “Don’t you even dare think about it,” he said sternly.
“What?” I asked, my voice rising to a suspicious squeak. “Please do not tell me this power to read my thoughts runs in your family. I have enough of that from your mother already. Don’t need it from you, too.”
Saleem chuckled, then winced, whatever pain that existed in his physical form being transmitted into his ethereal one. “Ugh, I’d better refrain from laughing. I think my last session may have ended with a broken rib.”
“Can djinn’s bones break?” I asked softly, trying not to envision that session with the unknown fists.
“Why? Thinking of breaking a few?”
“Most assuredly.”
“Not mine, I hope,” Saleem said lightly.
I shook my head. “You’ll be okay as long as djinn do not feel the pain when their siblings are pummeled to an unidentifiable mass of blood and bone.”
Saleem’s eyebrows rose as he fought a smile. “Woah there, Tracker. That’s a whole lot of violence that I haven’t seen before. Developing your mean streak, I see?”
I snorted. “Anyone tries to hurt what’s mine, and they’ll see what mean really looks like.”
Saleem cupped my cheek gently and smiled as he stared at my face, as though memorizing every detail. “I really love seeing this vicious bad-girl version of you, but what exactly are you doing here?”
I sighed. “No clue. I got blasted here. Didn’t have much of a choice.”
“Why here?” Saleem asked then paused, a stunned look on his face as my words sank in. “Blasted?”
“Yeah.” I lifted a shoulder then dropped it, the effort taking too much out of me for some reason. Probably the weight of failure. “Mission to save Kai went sideways. I got zapped every which way to Sunday. And in the end, the package was taken.”
Saleem lifted a finger and made a slow reverse-rolling motion. Though I was well aware that every second was ticking by with maddening speed, I was relishing this little reprieve, away from the madness that was life these days.
I took a deep breath and said, “Where shall I start? A bunch of assholes are after our favorite walker: the Walker Council dickheads framed her for murder, mysterious ShadowWraiths are either trying to taze her to death or abduct her, nosy reporters are popping up following up on leaked FBI reports, and operatives of supposedly defunct governmental agencies are suddenly turning up alive, also very interested in said panther.” I paused to take a breath, then squinted as I put a finger to my lip and pretended to think some more. “I’m pretty sure I missed something.”
Saleem swallowed then cleared his throat. “That’s enough to absorb right there. Wanna give me a minute or two before you hit me with another shitload?”
I snorted. “You don’t know the half of it,” I said then cringed and peered up at him, twisting my lips. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it that way.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. If I were there, I’d have been helping, but surely Kai has a bunch of people helping.”
“So much for all that help. The entire plan went to poop—”
“Poop?” he asked smirking.
“Too much shit going around. Need a change,” I replied, giving him a dark look before continuing, “The entire plan went to poop, and now they have her. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, they shocked the…hell…out of me, and that’s how I ended up here.”
“Never heard of that happening before.”
“Wasn’t in the Science of Djinn Power and its Interaction with the Physical and Ethereal Planes 101 syllabus I take it,” I asked, an eyebrow raised.
Saleem let out a low chuckle. “Ten points for remembering the name.” Then he sobered. “So I take it everyone’s a little occupied over there, huh?” he asked slowly, the corners of his eyes thinning. I knew disappointment when I saw it.
“For now, yes. But not for long. I aim to get Kai out of the…” I cleared my throat and cast about for another word, then threw my hands in the air, “aargh, I give up, whatever, shit…out of the shit…and I’ll be back here asap.”
Saleem shook his head, and I knew what he was about to say.
“Don’t you even think about it,” I snapped waving a threatening finger at him. “We’re coming. We’ll round things up today, and the team will come straight here.”
“That’s not what I was about to say,” he replied serenely.
I blinked. Apparently, I didn’t know that I was a tad clueless as to the working of the djinn’s mind. I huffed and mimicked his rolling motion, only reversing the direction of my finger to tell him to go on.
His lips twitched, but he had the grace to refrain from smiling. “What I was about to say is, yes I told you a week, but there is a specific window in which you need to arrive. Not before. And not after.”
“Window?” I scowled. “You didn’t say there was a window. Why is there now a window?”
Saleem’s expression remained enigmatic. “Things are falling into place, ducks are getting themselves in a row, parts are being lined up—”
“I get the picture,” I snapped, widening my eyes at him, impatience spiking my temper.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, there’s a window.”
“Thanks for telling me about this window. What if I came now to break your idiotic ass out of here?” I asked, shaking my head, frustrated, and annoyed with him, for reasons I did not comprehend.
Probably that lightning bolt to the brain, because it’s definitely not PMS.
I swallowed a grunt of annoyance and ignored my thoughts.
Yeeyup, definitely PMS.
Chapter 9
When I looked up at Saleem, I found him smirking and I narrowed my eyes, wondering if he’d heard my stupid inner self’s commentary.
But he merely said, “I would have just sent you straight back. The timing is…crucial.”
“Fine,” I said, folding my arms. “What’s this timeframe then?”
“Two days from today, on the night of the half moon, between midnight and midday.”
“That sounds like it’s a trick,” I muttered.
“No, I mean it. That’s the day that corresponds directly with the seventeenth of the month of Nadir, which in Kamsin is the night of the full moon. It’s a significant day, a few banquets and a celebration or two. A perfect time to get away what with all the…distractions.”
I nodded slowly, still not convinced. “I see. Would it have hurt to have told me that the last time I checked in on you?” I knew I was harping on a moot point but I was looking at something to prod.
Mhhh. Are you sure it’s not PMS? Maybe you’re due for a visit—
I shut off my stupid thoughts as Saleem shook his head. “I had a vague idea of when the best time would be, so I said a week. Figured we’d be speaking again anyway.”
“And what made you so sure of that?”
He shrugged. “I know you. You don’t dive headlong into something without first checking out the lay of the land. Besides, if you had a team supporting you, I’d assume Logan would be along for the ride. Dude kinda knows the drill.”
I sighed. The mention of Logan’s name had successfully doused my ire. “Yeah, about that.”
“Something wrong with Logan?” Saleem asked, concern now flickering in his obsidian eyes.
I shook my head. “Just that he’s still recovering. I know he’s out of his coma, and slowly getting back on his feet, but I highly doubt he’s r
eady to head straight into a mission.”
At this point, I wasn’t entirely sure if Saleem was aware that his fire-mage buddy was actually dragon royalty.
Saleem nodded, disappointment filling his eyes and then he rolled his shoulders and nodded again. “That’s okay. We can do this without him. He’d have been a valuable asset, but we need him well recovered more than needing him on this mission.”
I paused and studied his face. “What are you not telling me?”
He met my eyes, the innocence in his face enough to conjure up a bright sparkling halo above his head. “Not telling you what?”
“Don’t give me that. You sound like you have a plan, like you’re…organizing things.”
“Sadly, as much as I’d love to say yes, that’s not the case. I’m on my own. Omega’s managed to eliminate enough of the strong opposition that even the regular guy who would want to fight them off won’t take up arms because of the danger to their family and their homes.”
I understood, and I was all too aware that I need to get back. I cleared my throat and took another step away from him, already feeling bereft. “Okay. Two days from today on the night of the half-moon between midnight and midday. Got it.” Then I raised a finger and waggled it near his nose. “Now, while I’m gone, behave, don’t destroy the place, and don’t touch that brother of yours. He’s mine.”
With that, I began to shimmer away, opening my mind to sense my thread, sending up a prayer of gratitude to whichever deity would listen that I’d thought to use a Link Tether.
I followed my thread and sighed with relief as I felt it strengthen beneath my touch. My energy had returned and I was skimming through the astral plane straight to my body.
I was tense already, wondering how badly my physical form had been hurt. If my astral form had struggled for so long to recuperate, there was no telling what injuries I’d sustained.
But, just as I reached the partition in the Veil that would take me to the bedroom, I drew to a slow stop, my senses flaring.
