by Liz Schulte
He looked at me with haunted eyes. “Downstairs.”
I trotted down the stairs, preparing myself for whatever I might find. There was nothing at the bottom of the stairs. I glanced over my shoulder at Phoenix.
“In the bar,” he said.
I studied the other jinni for a moment. Was this a trap? Had he tried lure Olivia and me here because he’d turned on us? Why hadn’t he found Sybil? “Show me,” I said.
He walked around me and headed toward the closed double doors to the left. I withdrew my gun and followed behind him—then stopped dead as I rounded the corner. I blinked several times, taking in what I was seeing. Bodies. Bodies everywhere. Bloody, broken, torn apart bodies. On the floor, the tables, the bar, the walls, and even the ceiling. Blood dripped from dismembered limbs staked to the ceiling, giving the appearance it was raining. A crimson pool grew as we stood there, stretching toward our feet. Directly across the room from the door, rows of metal spikes jutted up through other corpses, heads jammed onto each end. The sweet coppery stench was so thick in the air it was impossible to breathe.
This wasn’t just an attack. It was damn near biblical in the sheer and utter scope. There had to be a hundred jinn in here, which was at least a third of our numbers in Chicago. Whoever it was took out a fucking third of us silently and without any notice.
“Was there anything else?” I asked, clearing my throat.
He nodded. “At the front door. Do you think Mammon did this?”
I headed for the door. Stuck to the outside with a bone fragment was a note. “Servitude or death. Freedom was never an option.”
“You can’t protect us, can you?” Phoenix said.
“We just have to defeat Mammon,” I said. “They don’t have the means to bring up anyone else this large.”
Phoenix shook his head. “Fuck that. You don’t know that. You have no idea how Mammon came here. If we do manage to kill him, who’s to say they won’t keep coming? Once the others hear about this, we’re dead. They’ll go back. Working for Hell is better than being ripped apart or having a fucking spike driven into your head.”
I grabbed Phoenix’s neck and slammed him against the wall. Flames crawled down my arm toward his exposed throat. “And who is going to tell them?”
“They know each other. Do you think you can hide this?” he croaked.
“It’s decision time, Phoenix. You’re either with me until the end or you die now. Choose.”
He clawed at my arm, eyes trained on the nearing flame. “I’ve always been with you,” he said.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“With you,” he said. I dropped him to the floor.
“We need gasoline,” I said. There were too many bodies to deal with. There was no way this sort of massacre wouldn’t make noise if the authorities found out. It had to be cleaned up before anyone else stumbled in. “Send out word that Xavier’s was compromised and not to come here.”
Phoenix nodded. “Do you honestly believe they don’t know where you and the guardian are holed up?” He gave me a meaningful look. “I told you to bring her.”
“She’s okay.”
Phoenix shook his head. “If you won’t check on her, I will.”
His ever-growing crush on Olivia was irritating as fuck, but this wasn’t a new issue. The light in Olivia attracted darkness and it had from the moment I met her. There was something about her unyielding insistence to see the good in others that made anyone around her see the best version of himself reflected back. The more time Phoenix spent with her, the more his loyalty shifted and I could see it. He wasn’t with me, not really. He was with her. Had the angel been more aware, she would have seen that she never needed the Seal of Solomon. With the combination of her giving them freedom and just being Olivia, they would have rallied around her on their own. “She’s fine. I did check. Go. Get the gas. And what was your progress on finding Sybil?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t been able to track her down.”
“Why did you come here?”
He pulled out his phone and showed me a text message from me that said, “Meeting at the club in ten minutes. Don’t be late.”
I handed the phone back to him.
“I was too far away and was late,” he said. “Otherwise—” He looked back toward the bar.
“Get the gasoline.”
He left and I shut the door behind him and started making calls. Everyone needed to be warned that short of a miracle—and we were fresh out of those—we were pretty much fucked.
Is Quintus there? I asked Olivia.
Yeah. And Corbin.
There was an attack on the jinn, I said to Olivia. Do you trust the vampire?
I don’t think he cares about me one way or the other. Why? What happened? she asked.
Whatever you do, don’t let anyone else inside until we have a better handle on whether this is an isolated attack.
It’s bad, isn’t it? When I didn’t reply, I could almost feel her sigh. Be careful.
You too.
Next I called Femi and tried Sybil who still wasn’t answering. Finally, I reached out to each of my captains, but only one even answered. I went back into the bar and waded through the gore to get to the heads. I took a picture of each one, in case we ever needed to know who actually died here this day—among them were the two unaccounted for captains.
“It has started,” Death’s deep voice rumbled from the back.
I looked over at him. “Olivia isn’t here.”
His head bobbed as he watched me with an inscrutable expression. “Do you know why you have survived? Why your path is so different than your fellow jinn?”
I continued taking pictures of the dead. “If you want to tell someone a story, talk to my better half. I’m fresh out of fucks to give about any riddle you want to tell me. The only business we have together is in regard to Olivia.”
His irritated stare drilled into my back, but I didn’t care. He made it clear he wasn’t interested in helping me, so why the hell would I humor him?
“You inherited your father’s pride and insolence.”
I took the last picture and popped my neck before climbing out of the carnage. “You keep bringing up this man that you call my father. I don’t have a father. I had a mother, I had a brother, I had a stepfather, but I sure as hell never had anyone else who cared if I lived or died.”
“Situations aren’t always what they seem.”
“And sometimes they are exactly what they seem.”
“The council offered you a place among them. Do you not find the timing curious? Have you not wondered why they chose you of all people and now?”
“Why do you care? Olivia’s going to join you,” I told him. “You’ve gotten what you wanted. We”—I gestured between us—“have no business.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth.” But even as he said the words he disappeared from the room.
The sound of the front door opening and footsteps coming down the hallway made me draw my gun. It was too soon for Phoenix to be back. I kept the weapon trained on the door and waited. A tall, lean man in a three-piece suit and dark glasses stepped through. More salt than pepper stubble covered the lower half of his face.
He stopped just short of the blood and looked at me impatiently. “Holden.” He nodded once.
Fucking meddling Death. “I take it you’re the sperm donor.”
He glanced around the room. “You’ve made quite the mess this time.”
I put the gun back in its holster and crossed my arms over my chest. “Hate to disappoint, but it’s not my mess.” He raised an eyebrow. “I really don’t have time for forced family reunions. What do you want?”
“Is Olivia here? I had hoped to finally meet her.”
Flames started at my feet and raced up my body until I could hardly see through them. “Stay away from her and stay out of my life. This is your only warning. I don’t care about how you’re still alive and I certainly don’t give a
shit that we share blood. If you go near Olivia, I will find a way to end you.”
“Still wearing your heart on your sleeve I see.” He waved his arm through the flames, without flinching, and gestured around me. “This practically begs people to push your buttons.”
I smashed my fist into his chest, as I struggled to force the flames back inside. “It’s hard to push a button when you’re dead.”
The sooty scorch marks outlining my fist marked his shirt. He still didn’t look the least bit concerned, though something twinkled in his eyes as he looked back at me.
“I can help her. She doesn’t have to be a reaper.” His voice was unchanged.
Curiosity waged a war inside of me. What was he and why was he here now, after all of this time? Even more importantly, how did he know anything about Olivia, let alone that she was going to become a reaper? I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to invite him any further into my life—call it loyalty to my mother, if nothing else. “So you’re friends with Death?”
He gave me a patronizing look. “Death doesn’t have friends.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever you want to call it. He told you about Olivia.”
He sighed. “Try not to be tedious. I do not converse with the Angel of Death. No one does. And if I did, would I really offer you another solution for her when the melancholy angel so has his heart set on recruiting her?”
The question was poised and waiting on the tip of my tongue, but I wouldn’t give voice to it. No matter how much I wanted to know what his offer was and how he could possibly help us, I had to trust my instincts and they said one thing. He was trouble. “Thanks, but we’re good. You know where the door is.”
“You may not believe it yet, but there have been two constants in your life, Holden. The first is, everything that has happened and everything you have learned has led you to her. Olivia, and what you are doing now, has always been your destiny. If you don’t believe me, ask the Fates. The two of you were always going to find each other. You just determined the path you took to get to her—with the occasional nudge in the right direction.”
“Yes, I am aware that Hell wanted me to turn her. I know.”
He shook his head, smiling slightly. “Lucifer has always loved to take credit where none was due. Your souls were made to be together. They would have pulled to each other like magnets.”
I scoffed. So we were soul mates. That wasn’t news—but what he was saying didn’t make sense. “Sure. Little things like being born in different centuries mean nothing. Had I not become a jinni, Olivia would have what? Fallen in love with a tombstone?”
“You were never going to die, Holden. Unless you chose to…which you did.”
“What?”
Holden, Olivia’s voice sounded frantic in my mind. Help.
“I’m not taking cases right now, Sy,” I announced as I walked in to the Office, Maggie at my side. The dim room was packed with a decent sized crowd, which made making a little trouble entirely too easy. “Let one of these other bozos have it.”
Sy gave me a side eyed glance, though his face remained impassive. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Femi. When have I ever assigned cases? I’m just the bartender.”
“You know, you’ve been selling that same crappy line since I came here, I don’t think anyone’s buying it.” I plopped down on the stool across from him. Nearly the entire room had gone quiet listening to us. Everyone suspected there was more to Sy than he admitted and more than a few feathers would be ruffled if people believed he was giving me the prime bounties. I smiled, waiting for him to put out this fire. “Now, why did you text me to come over?” I didn’t lower my voice at all, making sure everyone heard. Resting my elbows on the bar, I dropped my chin to rest on my hands, eager for the backpedaling and juggling act he was about to perform.
His tongue ran over his teeth as he stared at me. Then, with a little nod of acknowledgement that made my smile even wider, the bastard kissed me. He bent right down and pressed his soft lips against mine as one of his warm hands cupped the back of my head, holding me in place. At first nothing happened. The shock of the bold move was too much, but a moment later my lips were kissing him back. His fingers at the nape of my neck relaxed and made small, gentle kneading movements that made my head want to lull back. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer, wanting more. His tongue touched the seam of my lips and I nearly crawled over the bar, but Sy pulled back. His silver eyes darkened and gleamed at me with triumph.
“Just haven’t seen you in a while,” he said with a low, rusty voice that did nothing to cool the heat pouring through my extremities. Even though he didn’t speak loudly, the bar was completely silent. Everyone waited to see what I would do.
My chest rose and fell rapidly, my lips still tingling from his kiss. “In that case, how about one more for the road?” I beckoned him forward with a pointed fingernail.
He smiled and leaned in toward me, eyes half closing. “If you really brought me here to kiss me, your life expectancy just went way down,” I said to him, pressing my fingernails into his neck.
He planted a soft kiss to my lips again, then repeated the gesture along my jaw all the way to my ear. “Like I said, I have a job for you.” He pulled back ever so slightly taking my earlobe between his lips. “This is just me beating you at your own game. Come to the back.” He kissed me one more time, then straightened and offered me a hand.
I looked at it for a moment. “I’ll be right back,” I said to Maggie.
As I stood to follow him, the room erupted with scoffs and laughter. Between the catcalls, people shouted things like, “Be gentle with her, Sy,” “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” and “Make that pussy purr.” I was livid by the time we stood in his apartment. As the door clicked shut behind us, I whirled to face him.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to be respected as a female bounty hunter? How dare you—”
“This,” he interrupted. “Was not my fault. You chose to make a scene and I had to cover.
“Since when do you assign me cases?”
“Since right now. I need you to do this. It’s time sensitive.” He handed me a slip of paper that I didn’t bother looking at.
“Why me?”
“You have the hand.”
“Yeah, I have two of them, as do ninety percent of the people out there.”
He shook his head. “You have the hand of glory. This job, it’s dangerous and you can’t tell anyone what you’re doing. But we need to catch this wolf before he infects anyone else.”
I finally read at the paper: The Nanteos Cup. The council. Start with Rhys.
“What does the cup do and who is Rhys?” I asked. “Also what council?”
Sy’s chin lifted, and I could see his wheels turning. Whatever this was, he wasn’t supposed to explain it, but like any good fae, he’d find a way around it. “There was an article in the human news not too long ago about a cup. It was just an old artifact—ancient to them—made out of wood, nothing special really. Well, it was loaned to a woman who was sick in the hospital because of the legend that surrounded it. While she was in possession of the object, it went missing. It’s a shame what people will steal, taking someone’s last hope of getting better.”
I nodded. “Yeah, people are dicks, but magic can’t solve every problem.”
He raised his eyebrows. “True. However, where there is a lot of magic, someone has to be responsible for it and govern it or there’d be chaos—even if the populous is unaware of their influence. The human world’s way of ignoring magic does more harm than good.”
“I don’t know about that. I think having the freedom to take care of yourself however you see fit is worth a little chaos.”
“My friend Rhys wouldn’t agree with you. He’s all about control.”
I looked at the paper again and nodded. I had thousands more questions, but this was the most Sy had ever revealed to me. Something was pushing his hand and I’d figu
re it out. That was my job.
I folded the paper and slid it into my pocket, then headed back out to the front. “What a waste of time,” I said loudly then held up one finger and let it fall to a hook. The room roared with laughter.
“Thanks, Femi,” Sy said dryly behind me.
I shrugged, then tapped Maggie’s shoulder on my way to the door. We had a mission.
“So what’s the job?” Maggie asked when we were in my car.
“We have to get a magical cup that can heal people away from a secret council that no one knows about.”
She scrunched her nose. “Sounds easy enough.”
I flashed a grin. “My thoughts exactly.”
“So how does one track down a super-secret organization?”
“By compiling what we know with who we know.”
“Aaaannnd once we find them we just ask for the cup?”
I laughed. “Well, we could try that, but I wasn’t planning on giving them a choice.” I leaned over and pulled the hand out of the glove box and dropped it on her lap, expecting her to scream.
Her lip curled back. “No way. Holden already tried to make me eat a dead person and it was disgusting. I am not taking a bite out of a grisly old hand.”
I blinked a couple times. When did I miss that? “That’s the hand of glory. Basically when you light the fingers it freezes everyone around and can unlock any door. That’s how we’ll get the cup. The first step is finding where they are hiding it, though. Which means, we need to find Rhys.”
“Great. How do we do that? I assume it won’t be as easy as googling him.”
“We need to talk to the person who was closest to Baker. Holden.”
The entire building shook around us.
A pacifist guardian, a dying guardian, a child, and a reluctant to help vampire were clearly no match for whatever was out there.
Corbin looked up from his magazine and glowered at me for a moment. “Might want to call for backup, love,” he said as he flipped to the next page.
“Right.” I focused my thoughts. Holden. Help us. They’re surrounding the building.
Whatever he was doing at Xavier’s, he had blocked his thoughts and feelings from me. But at the word help, I felt the rush of him, anger and confusion quickly overshadowed by concern for my safety. I hated this, having to rely on someone else. The niggling voice of my subconscious suggested I call Death. There was no time like the present to compromise my most basic values and make a deal that could save us all.
