West laughed. “No way, and I’m probably the hundredth family member in line for that honor so I don’t see it happening anytime soon. Our current Zhaman is a very nice woman—when she’s not rocking in a corner talking to herself. I’m what they call a keeper’s child.”
She couldn’t believe it. “Bullshit. Ram practically lives with you, but he wouldn’t even be able to see you if you were from that line. Keepers are hidden from all of them.”
West grinned. “He can see me because he could always see me. Because I wanted him to.” He moved closer to her. “But even if I were having this close a conversation with him when he had all his Jinn mojo intact, he wouldn’t be able to sense what I am. The sand hides the places we choose to remain hidden and the people we choose to protect. It also conceals us from any attempt at detection, so we are free to walk through the world without fear. We’re just ordinary humans to them. And we are everywhere, Aziza Jane. Be Fruitful and Multiply is our family motto. We Hide, We Watch, We Wait is our other motto. At least, that’s the loose English translation.”
“We? Who is we? Is Chiye a keeper’s child as well?”
West bit the inside of his cheek. “No, we’re not related.”
Aziza was still a little skeptical—she’d assumed that the keepers were a single family line like hers, and that they lived somewhere in the deserts of the Middle East, not Atlanta or London. But she couldn’t not trust him. There was just something about him.
He’s different.
Yes, he definitely was. “Okay, that explains who you are, but not what you’re doing here. Why were you watching me? Why did you run? Come to think of it, why did you stop?”
He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Well, I planned to accidentally run into you, but I couldn’t resist watching your little walk on the wild side for a while longer. You’re…unexpected in real life, Fireborne. And I’m not one who is easily surprised.”
“You planned to ‘accidentally run into’ me,” she said in a disbelieving tone.
Nodding, he said, “I ran because I hadn’t planned on you catching sight of me before I wanted you to—keeping secrets sort of runs in my family. It’s instinct now. I stopped because you’d been hurt, and because you thought I might be your missing brother. I couldn’t let you go on believing that.”
“And you were watching me because…?”
“Because it’s hard not to, Aziza Jane. You are fascinating.” He lifted one shoulder. “And because I have a feeling it’s time for you to meet Dern—I believe your Qarin told you about him? The man with the books?”
Aziza blinked at him. “This is crazy. How do you know what Te told me?”
He laughed at her again. “Because we were the ones who told their source. Dern’s been waiting to meet you, Aziza Jane. Has been ever since he found me in Cardiff. And wait until you see his traveling library. I know how much you like to read.”
“This is insane.”
He shook his head, studying her again. “Not any more than you’re used to by now. We should stop on the way and get you some shoes. It’s not too far, but you shouldn’t be walking around London barefoot.”
Ally. Keeper. Trust him.
Aziza sighed. She was definitely going crazy. Or she was already there.
“By all means, West, let’s steal me a pair of shoes before I step on something worse than a rock.” She looked down at her dress. “And maybe an outfit to go with them. I’m not meeting anyone new in this. I want it burned.”
He grinned as he took her hand and tugged it through the crook of his arm in a very courtly gesture. “Rough day?”
“I’ve had worse since I became the Fireborne,” Aziza said, feeling very much like Dorothy headed down the yellow-brick road as he steered her down the street.
Hopefully this wizard and his traveling library wouldn’t turn out to be another dead end.
Chapter Nine
“I really want to burn that dress,” Aziza reiterated as she slipped on hip-hugging jeans, black biker boots and a black baby doll T-shirt emblazoned with a pair of red lips, all stuff she’d picked out from the limited selection in the first clothing store they stumbled across. She turned to check out the fit of the pants and studied her boots. Maybe she should borrow a pair of running shoes instead.
No.
Time had started again right before they came inside and Aziza had instantly focused on stopping it once more, weaving on her bare feet as her palm burned and a sharp pain pierced her temples. Maybe her batteries needed to be recharged—she’d never done two back-to-back time-outs before.
Let those Niyr albinos track that time loss. As if they weren’t paranoid enough already.
“You could.” West’s voice was muffled through the door. “But you’d hate it if one of these poor salesgirls gets blamed for starting a fire at work when time starts up again.”
“You’re right, damn it.” She took the pins from her hair and shook it out. “Are all keeper’s children as nice as you are? Collecting stray Jinn and pickpockets and protecting innocent shopgirls from unwarranted arson charges?”
“No.” He laughed at that. “Most of us are empathic shut-ins or psychic hotline workers in it for the money. I am unique in all the land.”
She tugged on the snug red cardigan she needed for the cooler weather, leaving it unbuttoned. It wasn’t exactly her, but it beat the hell out of the dress.
Leaving that particular bad memory in a crumpled heap under the bench, she opened the narrow door and grinned up at West. “So you’re all psychic? Did you ever work at a psychic hotline? Read a palm? Play the lottery? You can tell me.”
“Only my cousin Kenna works the hotlines.” His eyes twinkled. “That I know of. At Christmas we give her grief, but console ourselves with the knowledge that at least one phone line is giving accurate information about the future. And no one in my family has ever played the lottery. My mother frowns on gambling, though when they first got married my father did make a few investments that made sure we would never have to worry about a roof over our heads.”
“Money.” She looked around the shop at all the statue-like customers and frowned. “Where did I put my purse?”
He held it out to her. “It’s a good thing you didn’t leave it with your shoes.”
“They weren’t really my shoes,” she admitted. “And if you mention them again I’ll deny their existence. I should have burned them too.”
When she walked up to the cash register and left a pile of banknotes on the counter, West smirked at her. “Do you have any idea how much money you just paid for that outfit?”
“No, and don’t tell me,” she muttered, stuffing her wallet back into her purse. “If it’s not enough I’ll feel guilty, if it’s too much it was worth it.”
“You said you were meeting with the Alpha?”
“More emphasis on the the, please, or you’ll be beheaded.”
West followed her back outside and onto the sidewalk. “I’m guessing it didn’t go very well. Is it because you’re dating his son? Because you’re too close to an exiled Jinn? Or because your being the Vessel undermines his authority?”
She gave him a sharp look. “I think I’m handling this pretty well, considering you misrepresented yourself when we first met. But you know way too much and it is freaking me out. Do you think I could be the one that gets to ask questions?”
His smile was confident and serene…and so not unattractive it wasn’t fair. “Ask me anything, Fireborne.”
“Don’t start. Aziza Jane will do. You haven’t been up-front with Ram, have you?”
“No.” West shook his head. “He knows Chiye thinks I’m clairvoyant, and he indulges her like a younger sister, but he doesn’t believe. He’s been too wrapped up in his own worries to notice, and if I told him, he’d have one more. His people would use him to try to discover the Zhaman’s whereabouts. I can’t do that to him.”
Aziza thought about all the times she’d used Mayet’s Witness to pull pranks or to
be with Brandon and felt a blush crawl up her neck and heat her cheeks. West had been watching her today. Had he before? “I still can’t believe you can move freely when no one else can.”
He sent her a sidelong look. “Dern can.”
“Lovely. So you and this Dern aren’t affected by my abilities. Should I be expecting more company, more people who could appear unexpectedly?” Like while she was having sex on a stranger’s car? “Or are you the only ones who can do it?”
“Not to make you anxious, but we are not the only ones.” West spoke carefully. “There are only a small number of keeper’s children like me who decided to honor the old ways and be guides and helpers. We alone were given special permission by the Zhaman to be marked with more sand than necessary—”
“What do you mean, ‘ more than necessary’?”
“Necessary means that shortly after birth nearly every descendant of the original Zhaman has their own special brand of baptism. One that involves blood and sand. It is a type of scarification that inserts a portion of the sand beneath our skin. Our blood will reject it, because we aren’t of the Ammu line, but it remains beneath our skin to keep the promise. After our rebirth to the hidden world, most lead relatively normal lives—other than experiencing a heightened insight or the occasional vivid dream, particularly following the required rebaptism every seven years.”
“Every descendant? Every seven years? But wasn’t the first Zhaman alive around a few thousand years ago or something? How many of you are there now? There isn’t enough sand in the world.”
“There’s always enough for what is needed. It’s part of the magic. My parents took me to the Zhaman’s home when I was a boy and I saw the original jar with my own eyes. In our people’s memory it has never needed to be refilled.”
“So you’ve voluntarily done this more than you needed to? And the Zhaman gave you permission? Why?”
He took her elbow to turn her down a small side street before dropping his hand and slipping it into his jeans pocket. “Because I knew I would need it. That I would have to be strong enough to do what had to be done. After my seventh birthday I had a vision, Aziza Jane. Among other things, I saw you. Us. I saw my destiny. That’s why I was presented to the Zhaman to begin with. My parents wanted her to tell me my vision was just a dream. That it didn’t mean anything and I wouldn’t have to be among the chosen. But she’d known I was coming long before I was born.” He shrugged. “So here I am.”
Aziza was speechless. He’d had a vision of her? She’d had one of him too, but she wasn’t planning on sharing it with him.
“They don’t see me, Aziza Jane. Not the way you do. I had a vision too, you know. You and I, like this. I’ve been looking for you. Wanted you for longer than you could possibly know. And I knew I’d find you.”
Had part of her known what he was? Had the shower fantasy she’d had only hours after they met been the sand’s way of letting her know?
Trust the keeper’s child.
She did. It was insane, but she did. She trusted him as much as she trusted Penn and Greg.
“If you saw me—this—then you must have seen how dangerous it is. The murders. The Jiniyr.”
“Yes. Some of it. Flashes mostly. I’m only shown what I need to know to play my part.”
She thought about her worries about Chiye’s safety. The feeling that she needed to be protected. “Does that include bringing innocent people into the equation? Like Chiye? I’m no better—I have my aunt and Greg—but if you could see what was coming, why would you keep her with you?”
West sighed and reached down to take her hand. Their fingers crackled with static and sparks again. Because he was a keeper? “Everyone has a part in this, Aziza Jane. Some larger than others, some unknowingly, but there is no one around you now who isn’t meant to be…though not all will remain. I’m not a Zhaman and I can’t see every potential, but I know that much is true. Chiye Wyn is exactly where she needs to be. Gregory Prophet is necessary.”
Gregory is necessary. Did he have any idea that Te had said that to her before? Had he seen it in one of his visions?
Had he seen her brother? “West, I wanted to ask you about Jos—”
“We’re here.”
Aziza blinked. “We are? Already?”
She eyed the ancient wooden door that was barely tall enough for her to walk through without ducking, her eyebrows raised in surprise. This was where the wizard hid his library from the Jinn and Niyr? She’d expected an actual library or a secret passage that led to a castle, not a bar.
She glanced at him and bit her lips. “I’m not done with you yet. Maybe we should meet him later.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to talk. Don’t look so nervous, Aziza Jane,” he added with a grin. “After strong-arming the Alpha of the Enforcers, this meeting will be a breeze. My second cousins in Israel have been friends with Dern for years, and I’ve known him for months. Trust me, he’s one of the good guys.”
“And we’re meeting him in a pub?”
“It’s closed for renovations so we won’t have to worry about whether or not time starts up again. Even if it weren’t, our man always has a few tricks up his sleeve. He’s got a talent for hiding not even I can match.”
When he opened the door, it gave out a heartfelt groan as it scraped across the rough wood floor. “Dern loves renovation and construction sites. Says he likes the feeling of places in flux. That, like life, nothing should be set in stone. He and I have had long, drawn-out disagreements about destiny. He’s not a fan of the word.”
“He sounds deep.”
A booming male laugh followed her words. “Deep. Well, I am. Deeper than you can fathom. Get it? Well? Fathom? It’s a measurement… Bah, never mind. Bring her in, boy, bring her in. I thought you were going to change your mind about revealing yourself again and getting her over here. Glad I was wrong.”
Aziza looked around as she went a few steps deeper into the pub, but she didn’t see him anywhere. The place appeared to be empty. There were no tables or chairs. No glasses behind the bar. No people. Was he hidden from the Niyr and Jinn because he was actually invisible?
“Come in, girl,” the voice behind her said.
She whirled to see a tall, heavyset male form in the shadows. Not invisible then.
He shook his head. “Thought you’d be taller, Fireborne. And older too—what are you, fifteen?”
West snorted. “She’s old enough, old man. Be nice to her while I get her some coffee from the kitchen.”
Aziza moved closer, her eyes adjusting enough to the dimmer light of the pub to catalogue the stranger’s features. He looked more like a lumberjack or an outdoorsy version of Santa Claus than a bookworm, with a full, bright-red beard and mussed hair that was a shade darker. His flannel shirt, which was partially tucked into one side of his pants, strained across his barrel chest and rounded stomach. He also had on eyeglasses that looked too small for him and were held together with white tape. His accent was harder to place. Perhaps Canada or somewhere along the Northeastern Seaboard.
“Dern, I presume?” Aziza inquired. “West said you wanted to see me. I have to ask—how did you know who I was?”
Where I was. And what—or who—are you?
He motioned for her to follow him and walked into a smaller room off the main bar without waiting to see if she’d follow.
This room was brightly lit and looked as though it might be a game room. The big table in the center was covered in old, worn books of all sizes, as well as notebooks and journals and rolls of parchment. It was an impressive collection. Along the wall, a row of brand-new dartboards were hung like modern art, some of them currently covered with threadbare and ancient-looking maps. Seriously, how had he gotten all this in here without being noticed?
“I know who you are and I know why you’re here, Aziza.” He turned to face her, the table between them, and chuckled. “Why your little Niyr Whisperer was poking around every nook and cranny for any information she was al
lowed to give you. That is one interesting Qarin, by the way. Spends more time walking the line than any Jinn I’ve ever heard of. I have a feeling that’s your influence.”
“Are you sure we’re talking about my Niyr?” He made Te sound like a rebel.
“You do have a lot to learn, don’t you?” He clapped his hands together. “You’ve come to the right place then, because I know things. Things are what I know. For example, what you are. The Fireborne, Vessel of Fire, embodiment of the Mayet, et cetera, et cetera. The glue that binds the treaty that stopped the horrible war that almost obliterated this world and two others. Unfortunately, you are also the only generation of your line not raised on the lore, so you’ve had to figure this all out as you went along. Luckily, you have spunk and you’re a quick study. Are you impressed? Am I warm?”
Aziza stared at him. He did know who she was. And he knew Te was a Whisper. How? “Yes. You’re on fire. My actual name is just Aziza, by the way. I know that much about myself.”
He chuckled again. “On fire. Funny. I get it. The Zhaman said you’d be a woman but didn’t mention you’d be funny. As you’ve already been informed, they call me Dern.”
Aziza was too curious to bother being wary. Since Te had mentioned him she’d been thinking about all the things she still wanted to know. Needed to know. She had so many questions that required answers rather than enigmatic riddles or half truths, and here was a man who obviously had answers to spare—a human who wasn’t bound to any consensus, Jinn rule or Alpha’s whim.
Think, Aziza. Focus. “So you’ve met the actual Zhaman? Are you related to the keepers, like West? Is that how you stay hidden?”
He shook his head as he shuffled through his papers and moved a few books around. “No, I wasn’t born to this like he was. I inherited my knowledge in journals and books. My great-grandfather was one of those wealthy wannabe archaeologists. You know the type—the ones who bought mummies to decorate their homes and were always on the lookout for ancient civilizations they could discover and pilfer through. He was documenting stories of the magical djinn and rumors of buried golden palaces in the Middle East when the Zhaman—I suppose it can’t still be the same one—invited him to stay in her home. She listened to his theories on ancient civilizations and his dreams of bringing enlightenment to his generation, cooked for him, and after they’d eaten, they sat beside the fire and she told him a story. A very detailed, very magical story.”
Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2 Page 17
