Harley Merlin 12

by Bella Forrest

  “I just want to help,” Finch fired back.

  “There’s more to it. Why won’t you tell us?” Santana urged angrily. “Would it kill you to be honest with us, for once?”

  He gave a bitter smile. “It might not kill me.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I felt Santana tense in my arms. She was ready to lunge at Finch. I tightened my arms around her.

  “Both of you, stop,” I said. “You’re arguing like little kids. I heard you from in here. It’s bad enough dealing with a suicidal djinn without wrangling the two of you.”

  “You heard us?” Finch’s entire demeanor altered, and his voice sounded strangled.

  “I heard Santana and figured you were arguing.” I looked back at my love. “If he’s here to help, then let him help. If he has any other reason on top of that, it’s his business. If it affected us, he’d tell us. Just leave it, okay? For the sake of my sanity.”

  Finch opened his mouth, but the doors of the infirmary burst wide open, silencing him. Two security magicals carried a limp figure between them. One with a face I recognized like my own.

  “Father?” I gasped.

  Krieger rushed over, gesturing for the security personnel to lay my father in the next bed.

  “Is he okay?” I craned my neck for a better look. He appeared to be out cold, and I saw dark purple circles beneath his eyes. His skin had taken on a waxy sheen, and he was visibly exhausted. “Father? Father, can you hear me?”

  He lay still, his eyes closed. I tried to get up, but Santana pushed me down.

  Krieger gathered a tray of vials. “I will do what I can. It may be the same condition you’ve been suffering.”

  “What?” I murmured, my heart pounding. If anything happened to my father, I didn’t know what I would do. We may not have the best example of a father-son bond, but our relationship had improved this past year. We’d started having dinner together—voluntarily. Albeit, not recently. My father had been keeping to himself of late, and now I understood why. He hadn’t wanted me to see him like this.

  “I’ll let you know what I find as soon as I’ve evaluated him,” Krieger promised, getting to work.

  Santana sat back and gazed into my eyes, panicked. “What the actual heck is going on?”

  “I don’t know, my ciela,” I replied.

  Santana rocked slightly. “Someone has to know something. If this happened to Levi, too, it’s not some random sickness—it’s a pattern.” Her face scrunched. “You and Kadar are calm now, sure, but how long until this thing breaks you? Kadar said it himself: he can’t bear it anymore. What if nobody saves you next time?”

  “He’s asleep now. I’ve got the reins.” I tried to comfort her, but she was way past that.

  Her gaze darted to Finch. “You said you wanted to help, so help us. Please.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Finch replied, entirely sincere. No name-brand sarcasm.

  “Talk to Erebus and find out what’s going on. Please, Finch. You know him better than anyone. He might speak to you,” she begged.

  Finch gripped the edge of the mattress until his knuckles whitened. “I’ll try.”

  Santana had been right. There was something off with Finch. His whole manner seemed odd. I might’ve attributed it to his disorder, but this didn’t feel delusional. I hadn’t seen him have any episodes, but I’d read up. This didn’t fit the bill. No, something else was afoot here. Finch wasn’t telling us everything, just as Santana suspected. However, I knew Finch. If he was staying quiet, he had a reason. Likely, one that involved sparing us from Erebus’s unpleasantness. Unfortunately, he didn’t get to stay silent if it affected me and my father.

  He had a good soul, deep down, and he had certainly shown he was no longer driven by selfish motivation. He’d done his mother’s bidding because she’d brainwashed him. Since meeting Harley, he’d been on a steady path to redemption. So his silence couldn’t be selfish. That wasn’t who he was anymore.

  “I’ll speak to Finch alone, later,” I said to Santana, attempting to calm her down. She opened her mouth to protest but changed her mind.

  When I did speak to Finch alone, I’d get to the bottom of this. With my father lying unconscious next to me, and the djinn inside me trying to kill us both, finding out what Finch knew had skyrocketed to my second-highest priority. A tiny step behind Santana, who would always have the top spot.

  Thirteen

  Finch

  Meet me at the infirmary as soon as you get this.

  The buzz of Raffe’s text interrupted the precious few hours of sleep I’d managed. My cheek lay squashed against the opening chapters of the pilfered book, and a streak of drool was drying on the page.

  You’ll have to wait, my pretty. I closed the book and slid it under my pillow for safekeeping. Rubbing the gunk from my eyes, my hair sticking up at all angles, I slipped out of my threadbare PJs and headed back to Krieger’s lair. Not nude, of course. I put clothes on first. Raffe had endured enough horrors.

  “Morning sunshine,” I crowed, entering the infirmary with a spring in my step. My gremlins seemed to be enjoying a well-earned lie-in. Either that or my pills were finally working again. Or it’s the calm before a big storm… I shrugged off the last possibility.

  Raffe was sitting up in bed, sipping coffee. “That was quick.”

  “You thought I’d just lay around?” I smiled, and it came easily for the first time in days.

  “No, you looked insanely tired last night. I thought you’d be out of it for longer,” he replied.

  “The early bird gets the worm and all that.” I plonked down on the seventies-esque vinyl chair beside his bed. It still felt warm, like someone had recently vacated it. Santana, probably. Raffe had likely waited until she’d reluctantly gone to bed before calling in the big bad wolf.

  “For what it’s worth, you look better today.” He poured a second cup of coffee from a pot on his side table, using a clean mug that’d probably been put there for Santana, and handed it to me.

  I smirked. “I can’t look that good if you’re offering me the strong stuff.”

  “That’s because we’ve got a lot to talk about.” He flicked some internal switch, turning serious on me. “I want to know what’s really going on. You didn’t want to say anything in front of Santana last night, and I figure you’ve got your reasons. But if this affects me and Kadar, I need the details.”

  “Can’t a guy just help out without everyone leaping to conclusions?” I focused on my mug, taken aback by his bluntness.

  “Not when you go all pale and awkward at the mention of talking to Erebus,” Raffe replied. Dammit, he definitely had my number.

  I raised an eyebrow. “I always get twitchy over talking to Erebus. It’s not good for my health.”

  “You’re withholding information. I can see it in your eyes.” Raffe wasn’t backing down.

  “I didn’t realize you were gazing into them. If I’d known, I’d have given you my most seductive stare.” I realized I’d entered a losing battle. Would it really be so bad if Raffe knew? He had a djinn inside him. Maybe that made him immune to any dastardly deeds Erebus might rustle up, if Raffe ended up on the ever-growing hit list…

  “If this was just about you, I wouldn’t pry. And I won’t spread it around. I need to know for Kadar’s sake. I don’t want him to throw us off the nearest roof again.” Raffe’s voice faltered, slamming me right in the feels.

  I took a deep gulp of coffee. “You asked for this.”

  “I did, and I’m ready to hear it,” Raffe replied firmly.

  I glanced at Krieger’s office. Through the glass, I saw him at his workbench, poring over blood samples. He wouldn’t interrupt us anytime soon. And Levi, who lay in the next bed, was out cold. Though him overhearing wasn’t really a problem, since this concerned him, too. Without further delay, the story slipped out easily, as I’d had quite a bit of practice telling it by now. Like a well-rehearsed monologue on opening night, I told him about
my missions for Erebus and painted the horrifying picture of Erebus emerging from the Fountain of Youth like a male supermodel, now able to walk in the real world. I stopped there, steering clear of Atlantis. I figured it was best not to mention it, in case it did get them an honorary spot on the hit list.

  “Anyway, his ‘emergence,’ as I like to call it, coincides with Kadar’s sickness.” I wrapped the facts up with a neat bow before moving on to my assumptions. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this is happening to djinn across the world. Erebus is a go-big-or-go-home guy.”

  Raffe’s gaze flitted to his father, still in deep sleep beside us. “You think having a human body might have blocked his link to the djinn?”

  “If it looks like a dog and barks like a dog… yeah, that’s my current hypothesis.” I took another long sip of coffee. “The timeline fits too perfectly for it to be a coincidence.”

  “No manches! I knew you were holding out on me, you scheming sack of pelotas!” Santana appeared out of thin air, jabbing her finger at me. I glared at Raffe, thinking he’d set this up. But he looked as shocked as me, if not more so.

  “Have you been eavesdropping this whole time?” Raffe gaped.

  “You bet I have. I knew he was lying! You let me pour my heart out, and you didn’t say a damn thing, even though you had all that tucked up in your head!” She raised her hands to unleash a hailstorm of Orisha at me. I put my arms up in defense, hoping a wall of Chaos would protect me from the buzzing, spiritual onslaught.

  “Hear me out before you set your sparky balls of peeved spirit at me!” I yelled. “I had no choice. I did it to protect you! Erebus is dangerous. You know that, Santana. I’ll ask Erebus about the djinn, but I’m at that bastard’s beck and call, in case it escaped your notice?”

  She shook her head angrily. “You don’t get to play victim. I don’t buy this protection thing. We’ve dealt with danger before. How’s this different?” The Orishas spiraled around her head in a mesmerizing belt of blue-and-white light.

  “I am a victim. Maybe not the only one, but that doesn’t mean I’m not one. I’m a servant of Erebus, same as the djinn—we’re linked, in a sense, because of that.” I let Air spill out of my palms, creating a wall between me and Santana. “And this is a new level of weird and dangerous.”

  The Orishas spun faster, in time with her swelling anger. “Then you should tell us all. If it affects us, then—”

  “It doesn’t affect you all!” I shot back. “That’s just it. I’m trying to keep as many of you away as possible, because this isn’t a Katherine situation. It’s a… pet project, I don’t know. He hasn’t been chatty, but it’s not like last time.”

  The Orishas turned into a blur, and I knew they’d lash out soon. “How can you know that?”

  “I just do!” I sounded desperate and I didn’t care.

  “Even if that’s true, this does affect Raffe. You kept that from me. You knew my heart was breaking, and you still didn’t tell me. I gave you every opportunity.” Her fingers folded inward.

  Frustration bristled through my body. “I don’t want Erebus gunning for every friggin’ person close to me!”

  An almighty roar split the air.

  “Would you stop your flaccid human mouths from flapping!” Kadar bellowed, silencing everyone. The Orishas abruptly halted, arcing over Santana’s head and hiding behind her shoulders. Their edges quivered in fear.

  “Good morning to you, too.” I sighed. Kadar’s ruby eyes burned into me.

  Santana chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m not planning on driving one of Krieger’s hypodermic needles into Raffe’s heart, if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied.

  “Better, then?” She sounded worried.

  “I’m fine for now, so you can put those insipid fireflies away. I have much to discuss with Finch, so I prefer him breathing.” Kadar heaved an exhale that seemed to ripple across his skin, turning it a deeper shade of red. “And Raffe says I’m the one with anger-management issues.”

  Santana twisted her hands, and the Orishas retreated. “I don’t like being lied to,” she said defensively.

  “Maybe not, but you don’t have to assail everyone who keeps a secret, and, between us, we are quite capable of fighting our own battles.” Kadar smiled dryly. “After all, Raffe kept me secret for a long time, yet you don’t hold him to the same level of condemnation.”

  “What do you want to talk to me about?” I brought the subject back around, to spare Santana. Love made folks crazy. And she’d dealt with enough to warrant an outburst or two.

  Kadar relaxed slightly. “You mentioned servants of Erebus and djinn being linked. I realize it must be a topic of great interest to you, given your situation. You likely hope to gain some breakthrough from me, which is why you came with Raffe last night.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but I couldn’t exactly deny it.

  Kadar chuckled. “Don’t worry, I have no qualms with a sliver of selfish motivation. I rather admire personal determination, at any cost. If you aid Raffe, you will aid yourself. A bargain, in anyone’s book.”

  I nodded awkwardly. “That’s right.”

  “Unfortunately for you, I do not know much about the relationship between djinn and the servants of Erebus, as I am not connected to the collective consciousness. But I listened to your assumptions about my predicament, and I’m inclined to agree.” Kadar’s smoke thickened. “Have you spoken to Erebus lately?”

  “No. I’m still… waiting for a sign,” I replied stiffly. “A text” would’ve sounded anticlimactic.

  Kadar scraped his nails against the coffee mug, and the sound cut through me. He was clearly nervous but holding it together, djinn-style. “At least there is comfort in understanding my separation from Erebus. And I believe you’re correct in thinking it affects all djinn. I may not be connected to the network, which is perhaps why I am not suffering as much as Zalaam, but my connection to Erebus has always existed. Ergo, him gaining a human body has severed the tie with me, too.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me?” I urged.

  “If I had reached the required age to connect to the network, I might be able to locate information for you regarding servants of Erebus and the djinn’s relationship to them. But I have not. And even if Zalaam were awake, the network has likely gone dark.”

  “Not giving me much silver lining, Kadar.”

  “I am getting to that, ingrate. Patience is a virtue—learn it.”

  I cleared my throat. “Sorry. Go on.”

  “I might not have your answers, but I may know someone who does,” he continued, surprisingly solution-oriented despite his obvious anxiety and pain. His face looked strained, his smoke billowing wildly. A dead giveaway that he was struggling.

  I gulped. “Who?” Please be someone easy to find, please be someone easy to find, please be someone easy to find… I crossed every extremity.

  “The oldest djinn in the known world. The Storyteller. She may be able to help.”

  Santana took a step forward. “And where’s she?”

  “In the country now called the United Arab Emirates, the last I heard,” Kadar replied. “She’ll have far more information than, say, a stolen book.”

  My jaw hit the deck. “How did you know about the book?”

  Kadar leered. “I’m a djinn, you idiotic spawn of a clurichaun. Even inside Raffe’s dense skull, I can do things, see things… and I can sense that book you’ve got tucked away a mile off. It holds a djinn ruby, if I’m not mistaken; the kind used to signify ancient djinn literature.”

  “My bad. I didn’t know you could ‘sense’ this stuff.” What else can you sense? I fought the paranoia, those thoughts rising again like scum in a stew pan. The gremlins had been so quiet. I didn’t want to wake them now. My bickering with Santana had woken one beast today, and that was enough for me.

  “Hmm… very well, I’ll resist stripping off the skin of your forearm and frying it fo
r breakfast. Tempting, but you may need your flesh intact.” Kadar flashed sharp teeth. “And I wouldn’t want to be a hypocrite.”

  Santana grimaced. “I wasn’t going to do that.”

  “More’s the pity. We could have shared breakfast in bed.” Kadar’s eyes glinted.

  An idea came to me, through the horror of becoming human bacon. “I’d like my flesh intact, if it’s all the same to you, but you and Raffe might have to be the ones who find this Storyteller.”

  “And why’s that?” Kadar purred. “Feeling lazy, are we?”

  “I just don’t want to wind up in a conflict of interests,” I explained. “I’m expecting Erebus to contact me. If I vanish, he’ll track me down, and that’ll open a can of worms. But you and Raffe can do this, and you’ll have a better shot at finding the Storyteller, since you know who you’re looking for.”

  Kadar tapped his nails against his lip. “It would cut out the middleman.”

  “As long as you’re not cutting the middleman.” I smirked.

  “Very amusing.” He chuckled darkly. “It does seem like the better path to success. And, as there are many djinn in the UAE, I can see firsthand if our assumptions are true.”

  I took a breath. “So, that’s settled, then?”

  “It appears so,” Kadar replied.

  “Then I only have one more favor to ask.” I chanced a look at Santana. “Please—and this includes Raffe, too—don’t tell anyone what I’ve said regarding Erebus. It honestly is the only way to keep people safe. Everyone who doesn’t already know, anyway.”

  Kadar inclined his head. “I will not say anything, knowing Erebus as I do. You shouldn’t either, Santana. Your silence may be the difference between life and death.”

  She hesitated, rubbing the back of her neck. “Fine. If it freaks Kadar out, then… maybe you’re right about the silence stuff, Finch.”

  I didn’t get the chance to make a dig about her being wrong, though it teetered on the tip of my tongue. At that moment, Levi woke up. Well, Zalaam did. The ruby-red eyes gave it away.