by Cat Adams
Squaring my shoulders, I crossed the concrete to the door, feeling my exposed skin heat as the sun baked it painfully even across that short distance. Through the glass doors I could see Bubba, Kevin, and the client waiting in the lobby, a grim, quiet group. Though the men were nicely dressed, they looked imposing enough that most people avoided the area around them, as if they were surrounded by an invisible moat.
Discreet it wasn’t, but it was probably useful. My guys had plenty of visibility to see any enemy coming. Not that there were any, at least none that I could see. That was a little surprising, really. They were out in the open and lined up like ducks on the range in one of those video games.
Of course, Hasan and I had thinned the ranks of the enemy considerably here in Tampa. Maybe they were out recruiting? Whatever the reason, I’d take the quiet for the gift it was. Without my guns I felt naked. My knives are good for close-in work, and dear to my heart besides. Magic disks and spells are great. I was even glad to have the little recorder and my other tech toys. But for distance work, nothing really compares to a gun.
“Hi, guys,” I said, striding up to the trio.
“Hey, boss.” Bubba smiled at me. “Guess they decided not to keep you.”
Kevin gave a long sniff, his expression darkening. “Why do you smell like brimstone?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you on the plane.”
“No,” Rahim said firmly, “you won’t. Your men have impressed me with their skills, but they are not coming with us.”
I gave him a withering look. He could not seriously be pulling this shit again.
“Mr. Patel, you’ve faced multiple attackers—twice now. We were lucky on the beach. If the bad guys had been just a bit quicker and if Hasan had not intervened, you’d be dead.”
An ugly flush crept up from his neck, his eyes darkening until they were almost black.
“I do not owe Hasan my life.” His voice was a deep, ugly growl—ugly enough that Kevin instinctively moved to position himself between us.
“No, you owe me your life. And I’m telling you that you need more than one guard.”
“I saved your life as well,” Rahim noted dourly.
“Yes, you did, and I’m grateful. But that doesn’t change the facts of the larger situation. My death left you unprotected.”
He gave me a haughty look down the length of his nose. “The terms of our agreement have not changed.” We stared at each other in a long, charged, silence.
I counted to ten, then a hundred. The client was being an idiot. The question was whether I was going to go along with his idiocy. I’d died once already on this case. I wasn’t eager to do it again. Next time, Rahim might decide Gramps was right and not revive me.
Kevin broke the tension. “Bubba, can you go with Mr. Patel to do the preflight check? I want to brief the boss on what happened while she was in the hospital.”
“Right.” Bubba turned to Rahim with his most winning smile. “After you,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the doors to the tarmac. I could tell from the look on Rahim’s face that he was considering arguing some more before he stomped off with ill grace. Bubba had to hustle a little to stay within easy protection range.
“Okay, Kev, what’s up?”
“First, Dawna called, asked me to give you my phone.” He pulled it from a pocket and handed it over. “Both Dom and the Church came through. The file’s saved here.” He pointed to an icon on the phone’s screen. “Also, I think the client’s up to something.”
“How so?”
“He’s got that look,” Kevin said. “Plus, I overheard him fighting with Pradeep earlier this morning. Couldn’t understand a word, but it was easy to tell the old man was raising hell with him. That’s probably part of why Rahim is in such a foul mood.”
“Bubba said he’s been having family issues.” I sighed. “I wish I could just tell him to go to hell, but Dottie says ‘the only way out of the maze is through it.’”
“How poetic.” He gave an annoyed snort. “Seers.” He’d know; his sister was one.
I tapped my upper lip with the tip of my index finger as I thought about how to handle everything. “All right, Rahim’s being an ass, but according to Dottie and your sister, I need to go along with him.” I paused for effect. “The minute we’re in the air, get a copy of our flight plan. Follow as quickly as you can. Be discreet, but I want you guys to have my back.”
“Got it,” he said, then gave me a meaningful look. “You do realize the full moon is coming soon?”
Crap. It was. “Do you need to go back to California?”
He thought about it for a long moment, then shook his head. “Nah. Like I told Dawna, I should be okay if I take steps. But it’s going to be hard to protect you from a distance.”
I shifted my duffel to a more comfortable position and started across the lobby, toward security and the tarmac. “Do the best you can. I trust you. But Kev, if you need to go, go. Bubba can watch my back.”
“Not like I can.”
I wasn’t going to argue the point. I trust him and Bubba implicitly. But Kevin’s monster side and his experience in black ops give him what Liam Neeson would refer to as a “particular set of skills.” Which reminded me: “Do you have a backup gun? The cops kept mine.”
Reaching under his jacket, he retrieved a Glock 9mm from a holster, checked the safety, and passed it to me. I’m not a huge fan of Glocks—just a personal preference. But it was a gun, and I knew it would have been perfectly maintained. I put it in my empty shoulder rig. It wasn’t a perfect fit, since the holster had been designed for my Colt. My draw would be a little slower than normal and I’d have to compensate for that. But I had a gun again. Which made me feel both more secure and more able to do my job. Kevin handed me a spare clip, which I dropped into a jacket pocket.
“This is your main weapon?” That he trusted me with it said a lot about our relationship.
“Yeah, but you’re on duty. And I’ve got more in the car.”
“Thanks, Kevin.”
“Just don’t get yourself killed.”
* * *
Kevin was right about one thing: Rahim was in a foul mood. He sat behind the controls of the plane, sullen and silent, waiting for permission to take off. I was in the passenger compartment, but though the door was open and we could’ve chatted, I really didn’t want to talk to him. Anything I was liable to say at this point would just make things worse.
The case was a disaster.
Not only had we not captured the ifrit, we’d given Hasan a live vosta to chow down on—which he’d probably already consumed. That meant he’d be much stronger next time we went up against him. Rahim had a traitor in his organization—I was sure of that. I couldn’t trust my client, either, given Dottie and Emma’s warnings. And while I was trying hard to ignore what had happened, the fact was, I was completely and totally freaked out about the ifrit being able to take over my body.
I shuddered at the memory. One of my main goals (maybe not number one, but definitely way up there) was to make sure that I never went through that again. Rahim might be a bit of a demanding ass, but he was the single best bet I had to put the djinn back in the bottle.
Next were the humans—a group in which the ghost of the late, unlamented Connor Finn had fit right in. Finn had been a psychopathic, mass-murdering SOB with both brains and power, quite possibly the single scariest human being I’d ever encountered—and he was one of the freaking crew. They had a boss.
A boss who shed heat and smelled of brimstone.
There are people who claim they aren’t afraid of the demonic. There are even some people who worship demons.
I’m pretty sure they’re idiots.
My hand went instinctively to a set of scars burned into the skin not far from my heart.
“What are you thinking?” Rahim asked from the pilot’s seat.
“That I don’t have enough information about what’s going on,” I admitted. “Anything you want to
tell me? Like maybe, where we’re going? What the plan is?”
“South Bend, Indiana,” Rahim answered. “I still need to locate Hasan.”
“The ceremony didn’t work?”
“No, we were interrupted too soon.”
“And you haven’t been able to get a bead on him since? Even with your family’s help?”
“No.” His answer was curt, the flat tone meant to discourage me from probing further.
There was more to that story. There had to be. I’d been down for two days. He wouldn’t have spent the entire time arguing with his family.
So I waited.
Silence can be a very effective tool in negotiations. It takes on a weight and power of its own. When you talk, people can argue, make points, talk over you, or talk you down. When you wait in perfect, calm, silence, most people feel compelled to break it. The tactic doesn’t always work, but it’s effective enough to make it always worth trying.
I sat there, perfectly pleasant, but implacable.
He pretended to busy himself with the controls.
I waited.
Finally, with a grimace, Rahim twisted in his seat to face me.
“We are going to South Bend so that I can retrieve texts and equipment from my office at Notre Dame. My grandfather has withdrawn his support, as have most of my relatives. One or two cousins have agreed to work with me. Otherwise, I am on my own.”
Shit. That was bad.
“This does not change my responsibility, but it requires a change in my approach.” He turned back toward the controls, but not before I caught a glimpse of the pain, sorrow, and rage in his eyes.
“Are you going to be able to do what’s necessary?”
He was saved from answering by the call from the control tower. We were cleared for takeoff.
I settled back into the cushiony leather seat and closed my eyes. Takeoff is not my happy time. I’m better about flying than I used to be, but I doubt I’ll ever enjoy the experience.
We made it into the air without incident, climbing until we were skimming through fluffy, cotton-candy clouds. When the jet flattened out at cruising altitude, I pulled Kevin’s phone from my jacket pocket and tapped the icon for the research Dawna had sent.
“What are you doing?” Rahim didn’t turn, so I met his eyes in the mirror.
“Catching up on my e-mail,” I lied, smiling sweetly. “I’ve got it running in spell-protected mode, so it won’t interfere with the jet. I won’t be able to make calls or text, but at least I can cruise the Internet.”
“Good.” He didn’t sound like he thought it was good. In fact, I got the distinct impression he’d intended to tell me to turn off the phone, something I had zero intention of doing. To distract him, I tried a change of subject. “I meant to ask you earlier, is my bag on board?”
“Yes. It’s in the storage compartment.”
“Oh, good. My passport’s in it, and my phone charger. The phone battery goes fast in protected mode.” Luckily Kevin and I had the same make and model at the moment, so I could use my charger with his phone.
Rahim gave a grunt of acknowledgment and shifted his attention back to flying.
I started reading.
It took quite a while. I took a break about an hour in to use the restroom and drink one of the nutrition shakes Rahim had been kind enough to stock in the jet’s mini-fridge. While I was up, I took my duffel out from beneath the seat and shifted it to the little storage compartment across from the bathroom. Opening the door, I was glad to see my suitcase in there, along with the medical bag Rahim used for his magical gear. Beside them was a navy duffel that I assumed held Rahim’s clothes and personal effects. I stowed my duffel and removed my case. Setting in on the little counter above the fridge, I unzipped it and began sifting through its contents, looking for the charger.
There was no sign of it. And, more suspiciously, I could tell from the moment I opened the bag that my belongings had been repacked. I didn’t sense hostile magic. More to the point, I didn’t sense any magic at all. And I should have. Like a lot of people who travel a lot, I keep a stock of spell disks that have been designed to let you overfill your suitcase while preventing anything inside from getting wrinkled. They dissipate as soon as you unpack a bag.
Since my suitcase had been stuck in the Caddy, those spells should’ve still been working. They weren’t. That pissed me off mightily. Zipping the case closed, I stowed it away again and stomped back to the sitting area. I debated confronting Rahim and decided against it for now. But a knot of painful tension tightened between my shoulder blades.
I went back to my reading. Dom had done the best he could, but a lot of information had been redacted from the reports he’d given Dawna. Surprisingly, the wheels of God had also gotten rolling at a good clip. The Catholic Church had provided the name of the specific demon that had been in the center of the battle at the Needle. It was long and unpronounceable—to me anyway. Even if I could have said it aloud, I wouldn’t have. I didn’t want to risk getting his attention. His position in the nefarious hierarchy was literally way the hell up there and he had more strengths than weaknesses.
I read and reread the information, trying to figure out how it all fit together. Again and again I came up blank. Frustrated and feeling stupid, I decided to take a break.
I closed my eyes, intending to concentrate on Bruno’s face. Even if he was at his mom’s bedside, I should be able to reach him telepathically. I needed him so badly, his calm, his confidence. Years of working with dangerous magic had toughened him. He never panicked, no matter the situation. He’d trained himself not to. I needed that from him now. There was also a chance that he’d see the connection I was missing.
Taking deep breaths, the way I’d been trained, I began deliberately relaxing my muscles, starting with my toes and working my way up until I was in a light trance. When I was absolutely in control of myself and my power, I pictured Bruno’s handsome features, a face I knew as well as I knew my own. I felt a connection start to form; then something big and powerful smashed into me, grabbing my magic and dragging it somewhere else entirely. I tried to break free, but whoever or whatever it was was simply too strong for me. I had no choice in the matter and all of my panic and fighting were to no avail.
* * *
I was in darkness so complete that there was no sense of depth, no contrast between lighter and darker shadow, only utter blackness and oppressive heat, heavy with the stench of brimstone.
“Is the djinn cooperating?”
I didn’t recognize that pleasant, melodic voice, but I knew it wasn’t human. I’d heard a voice much like it coming from the mouth of a greater demon as he’d taunted me while attacking. A wave of pure panic swept over me. I tried to wake myself, to convince myself this was just a dream. But it didn’t feel like a dream and I didn’t wake.
“Yes, master. And that concerns me. He’s being too cooperative. He’s up to something.” I knew that voice. It belonged to Bob Davis.
My mouth went dry, my pulse raced. I’d suspected Davis was part of this—after all, he’d been working with Finn at the Needle. But suspecting and knowing are two very different things.
“Djinn are always up to something. It is their nature.”
The voice was smooth, cultured, sweet as honey in your mouth. No human possessed a voice with that richness of timbre, that pure, seductive warmth that promised … anything, everything you could possibly desire. Again, a greater demon had used that exact tone on me when he’d been trying to seduce me.
“You know the tale of the scorpion and the horse.”
“I do.”
“Good. Learn from it. Use Hasan. Do not trust him. And leave no opening for him to exploit. I will not tolerate failure.”
“Yes, master.”
“What of the traitor among the Guardians?”
“He has had a change of heart.”
“Not surprising, I suppose, but disappointing nonetheless. Kill him when you get the chance.”
“Of course.”
“The damaged siren?”
“She was dead, but they revived her.”
“So Connor Finn has advised me. Next time, make it permanent.”
“I may only have to wait. Her own allies are planning to kill her. Pradeep Patel has hired assassins.”
“Just so long as it gets done, and soon. She has been a thorn in our side for too long.” There was a slight pause before he continued, “Besides, my brother has plans for her.”
* * *
Total panic gripped me, and the rush of adrenaline gave me the strength to break free of the dream, vision, whatever it was. I opened my eyes, my breath coming in shallow pants, my hands white-knuckled where they held the armrests in a death grip.
16
“Celia, are you awake? I’m getting ready to start our descent.”
“I’m awake.” My voice sounded rough and raw. I swallowed convulsively. Though I had started the vision relaxed, now I was rigid with terror. I was actually a little surprised I hadn’t wet myself. It’s one thing to know intellectually that greater demons are interested in you. It’s another thing entirely to hear one of them talk about it. His brother had plans for me? Oh, no. So no.
I tried to force myself to relax, one muscle at a time. Deep breaths, slow, in and out. It helped, but not as much as I would’ve liked. I felt … odd. Spacey, like something important was missing inside me. It was somewhat similar to times when I was really sure I’d forgotten something really important, but couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
Then it hit me.
We were in Indiana, heart of the Midwest, miles and miles from any ocean. That wasn’t good for a siren, even someone like me who is only part siren. I’d been to a landlocked country before—Rusland in central Europe. I hadn’t felt like this then, but Rusland is a tiny country and Europe is relatively small compared to the United States. Being so far from salt water was going to be a problem; the questions were, how big a problem, and what could I do about it?
“Are you okay?” Rahim gave me a worried glance over his right shoulder.
