To Jackson’s surprise, the door wasn’t locked. He hesitated and then took a cautious step inside. Dust swirled in the air, cut by beams of sunlight piercing through whatever crack or break they could find. Although it was morning, the small amount of light coupled with the many faded photographs and ribbons on the walls gave the interior a reverent feel, almost like they’d stepped inside an abandoned church.
“Briggs?” Jackson inquired into the silence. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice above normal levels and suddenly wondered if he’d made a mistake coming here. The holy feeling changed and he felt like a spider in a trap.
Something moved in the shadows, and Asena crouched low at the ready. Jackson tensed, but a moment later a large feline-esque Djinn emerged from the darkness in front of them. In any other situation, Jackson probably would have peed his pants. But he knew this particular Hurricanther.
“Hey, Midnight,” Jackson said with a small smile. He extended a hand to the Djinn and his watch flashed, the Djinncyclopedia function pulling an updated scan on the Djinn.
Djinn: Hurricanther
Level: 93
Element: Wind/Water
HP: 2,356/2,356
Same level as before. Jackson wasn’t sure what he was expecting. It wasn’t as though Midnight was being trained regularly, and even if he was, going from level 93 to 94 required a ridiculous amount of XP — more than Jackson could even fathom acquiring.
Midnight rubbed his powerful head against Jackson’s arm. When Jackson scratched back, a deep, rumbling purr sounded from the Hurricanther’s chest. Asena wagged her tail in excitement and bounded around the other Djinn, yipping in excitement.
“He’s such a beautiful creature,” Kay said. “It never gets old.” She knelt down and ran her hands along Midnight’s glossy fur. Although he was an older Djinn, muscles still rippled beneath the Hurricanther’s hide. Whenever they went to visit Briggs, Kay made sure to leave Sunshine at home. The small Fenkit loved to torment Midnight, though unlike Asena, the Hurricanther had no desire to play Sunshine’s games.
“Where’s Briggs at, huh?” Jackson asked Midnight.
“Briggs is up here wondering why the hell his guard Djinn is letting a couple of trespassers rub his belly like he’s a damned kitten.”
Jackson started at Cassius Briggs’s voice drifting down from his upstairs office set on a railing above the warehouse. The man’s short bunch of salt and pepper hair shone through a dirty window. A moment later, he stood and walked out onto the balcony, staring down at them with his trademark disapproving look that wasn’t quite a frown but definitely wasn’t welcoming.
“Good to see you again too,” Jackson called up, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. Briggs had a way of dismantling people with his stare.
Briggs gave a terse nod. “Jackson. Kay.”
A long silence stretched out between them. Jackson cleared his throat and reached for the letter in his pocket. “I’ve got some news,” he said, waving the paper over his head. “I got accepted to training camp for the Bronze League!”
“Good work,” Briggs said. “I knew you had it in you. Now get.”
“Wait!” Jackson shouted. “I need to talk to you — I need your help!”
“You knew the deal of our arrangement before,” Briggs said. “And you chose not to follow it. I’m not your trainer anymore, and I can’t help you.”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Jackson said.
“Oh, wow. I haven’t heard that from you yet,” Briggs said with a snort.
“It was a stupid move but you gotta see where I was coming from,” Jackson continued.
Through much begging, pleading, and an inordinate amount of borderline stalking, Jackson had convinced Briggs to help him train to compete in the Underground — unsanctioned Djinn battles where spectators and tamers alike could bet on the outcome of the matches. Briggs had agreed on one condition: Jackson wasn’t allowed to place bets.
For the first few weeks, Jackson adhered to the rule. Then things got desperate, and with his mother’s house on the line, Jackson caved and placed what he thought was a sure bet on a spur of the moment match. He’d lost and Briggs had found out, ending their professional relationship. In the months since, Jackson made several attempts to get in touch with Briggs to apologize, but all of his holo-messages and in-person visits were ignored.
“It wasn’t a decision I made lightly” Jackson said. “We were going to lose my mother’s house.”
“And how did that work out?” Briggs asked. “You still living in the house? I saw the tournament results — you could’ve beaten that Sato girl if you’d stuck with me.”
Jackson eyebrow twitched.
Briggs knew that was a sore spot and was provoking him on purpose, though Jackson was determined to show his old mentor he wasn’t quite the hot-headed kid he’d been before.
“I learned my lesson,” Jackson said, taking a deep breath. “Will you at least hear me out?”
Cassius Briggs jerked his hand and Jackson took it for an invitation to come up to the office. Kay remained below, still rubbing Midnight’s belly and cooing to the giant Djinn while Asena and Jackson scrambled up the warehouse stairs before Briggs changed his mind. When he reached the top, Jackson held out the invitation letter to his old mentor.
“Have a seat,” Briggs grunted. He reached over to his desk and grabbed a pair of reading glasses. When Briggs had been Jackson’s teacher, it was the kind of thing Jackson would have joked about — the old man who couldn’t see without his glasses. But, given the circumstances, he knew he had to be on his best behavior.
Jackson examined the room while Briggs read. Aside from a lumpy bed in the corner covered in ruffled sheets, there was a small desk, a table, and copious amounts of empty cans and bottles, all of the alcoholic variety. The room itself felt like it had been victim to an intense helping of hand sanitizer. Jackson noticed a tarnished trophy on the shelf and his jaw dropped.
He’d never been to Briggs’s office during their time training together and had never seen the retired tamer’s Gold League Championship trophy. Although it was covered in a fine layer of dust and more than a couple cobwebs, Jackson could still see the name Cassius Briggs, Midnight, and the rest of the Djinn from the championship team etched on the surface. Almost without thinking, Jackson’s hand reached up to touch it.
“Ha!”
A hard laugh burst from Briggs and Jackson dropped his hand, spinning around like a kid whose hand had been caught in a candy dish. Briggs held the letter out from him with one hand and smacked it with the back of his other.
“I figured as much,” he said. “You ever heard the term ‘practice bait,’ kid? That’s what this invitation is. Bronze League regulations state that anyone in Training Camp can only skirmish against other tamers on the Bronze League roster, so they always reserve a few spots each year for tamers they don’t think will make it for the first string to beat up on.”
“What?” Jackson said, the knot in his stomach tightening. “Why would the town waste their selection on someone just padding the roster?”
Briggs pursed his lips. “Not every city or town in the region has a tamer to send to training camp,” he paused, looking over the letter again. “But you got a point there…what happened to that Sato girl, the one that beat you in the tournament? I would have bet a bottle of my favorite bourbon that she would’ve been the rep from around here.”
“She got in with a private sponsor,” Jackson said. “Now, do you really —”
“Hold up,” Briggs said, eyes narrowing.
He set the letter on top of a half-empty to-go box — Jackson guessed it had once been a noodle dish however many days ago it had been purchased — and reached for his holo-watch. A couple of quick taps brought up the Bronze League site. Briggs navigated to Tyle’s region and a list of tamers appeared. Jackson scanned it — a little hard to do since he was standing behind Briggs — and found himself and Fiona on the list.
; “I didn’t know you could look this up!” Jackson said.
“Not just anybody can,” Briggs replied. “Only someone with an official DBL login can get in, but someone always leaks it to the media sooner or later. Wouldn’t be surprised if this was all common knowledge tomorrow.” He tapped on Fiona’s name. A picture of the youngest Sato, her Djinn Rebel, a bio, and a few stats appeared. Jackson navigated around to stand next to Briggs so he could read it.
Briggs swore. “I should have guessed.”
“What is it?” Jackson asked, completely lost.
Briggs waved his hand and a section of Fiona’s page zoomed in. One line specifically stood out:
SPONSOR — VANCE MCALLISTER
“Ha! I was right!” Jackson said. “I knew it had to be McCalliser.”
What Jackson didn’t expect was Briggs’s reaction. The old tamer clenched his teeth and stared at the screen with a fervor Jackson rarely saw in the man, one that only came out when Briggs let it slip in a moment of heated competition — a brief glimpse of the champion he used to be.
“Not a fan, I take it?” Jackson said. “You know, if you take me on as a mentee, we can take him and Fiona down together.”
The fierce competitor faded, leaving the bitter man in its place once more as Briggs shook his head. “I told you before. You had your shot and you made your choice.”
“Look, I’m not even asking for your help!” Jackson insisted. “I just came here to ask you where I could find another solid Djinn. I’m required to have two to compete, and —.”
“I’m not sure if you know this, but what you just described could be considered help.”
“I have enough money to buy another ring,” Jackson said, ignoring Briggs’s comment, “but I can’t afford a registered Djinn from Sato’s.”
Briggs gestured through his cracked dirty office window to the hills north of the warehouse and fields. “Start walking. You won’t get far before you trip up on a Magglecaw or something.”
Jackson responded with a hard, frustrated stare. “You know I can’t win in the Bronze League with a Magglecaw.”
Briggs raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Not with that attitude you sure can’t.”
Arguing with Briggs was like arguing with a drunk, cynical version of his grandma, except he didn’t even have the advantage of being blood kin to the man. He knew Briggs was testing him, and so far he’d mostly failed. Then Jackson recalled the look from Briggs when he’d seen Vance McAllister’s name and an idea came to him.
“Whatever,” he said. “If you want me to get beat by Fiona again, then don’t help. I’m sure Vance will love to know he got another one over you.”
Briggs scoffed and swatted at Asena, who’d started chewing on one of his table legs out of boredom. “Nice play, but it won’t work.”
“Oh, come on!” Jackson said. Briggs had called his bluff right away and he didn’t have any cards left to play. “Fiona knows I used to train with you. Don’t you think she’ll mention it to Vance? You know he’s going to want to see how good I am after spending time working with you.”
“Nope.”
Briggs made a show of cleaning a dirty plate off the table before Asena could reach it. She’d put her front paws up on the table, searching for the half-rotten food, and Jackson swatted her down.
“Don’t you want to even the score?” Jackson pressed, picking up another dirty plate of the table. He followed Briggs to the sink and tossed the half-eaten plate of food into it — only he’d released his hand just a bit too high up, and the plate shattered on top of the plate Briggs had just placed in it. “Sorry.”
Briggs bit his lip in what was probably irritation at his only plate being broken.
“I’ll get you a new one,” Jackson said, ignoring the man’s frown. “This could be your chance. I want to beat Fiona more than anything, and you want to prove to Vance you’re not finished. It’s the perfect team!”
“Jackson.” Briggs seemed to be giving Jackson his full attention for the first time since he’d entered the office. And Briggs never called him by his first name — except for when he was trying to teach Jackson something.
“I’m. Out. Of. The. Game.”
Jackson stared right back. “I saw that look in your eyes. You can lie to yourself all you want, but I’m not buying it. Come on, Briggs — one last shot, you and me together!”
Briggs rolled his eyes. “Stop serving up those damn cheeseballs, kid.”
“Yeah, they’re cheesy, but they worked a little bit, didn’t they?” Jackson said. He grinned, completely undeterred by Briggs’s pessimism.
The corner of Cassius Briggs’s mouth lifted the tiniest fraction.
“You’re a slimy little bastard, you know that? You’re selfish, transparent, and stupid — don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise,” Briggs said with an annoyed sigh. “But you’re also lucky.”
“Lucky?” Jackson said. He didn’t ever feel particularly lucky about always having to claw his way anywhere he went.
“That’s right, you’re lucky. You’re lucky that I want to beat Vance McAllister bad enough to put up with you again.”
Chapter Seven
“Wild Djinn taming ain’t no walk in the park.” A bedraggled cigar that looked as though it had been chewed on for as long as Jackson had been alive hung from Cassius Briggs’s mouth. He spread out an old-fashioned paper map on the table and pinned down the corners with a couple of mugs of stale coffee. Next to Jackson, Kay shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying not to look at the messy parts of the office. Unfortunately for her anxiety, there really wasn’t an un-messy part to focus her attention on except for the map.
Jackson leaned in and recognized several features of the Granite region, finding Tyle at the bottom of the map. Briggs traced his finger over the map and tapped his fingers on several forests and mountain ranges.
“There’s a reason Djinn breeders make so much money,” he continued, shifting his cigar. “Aside from the fact you can breed in the traits you want, there’s not many ranch-bred Djinn that’ll try to tear your guts out or stomp your body into a pulp. Wild ones are different.”
Kay looked at Jackson with wide eyes. “You sure you can’t take out a loan or something?”
Before Jackson could tell her he’d already checked with the banks and couldn’t get a line of credit, Briggs cut in.
“Jackson doesn’t want a ranch-bred Djinn. Sure, they might look better on a piece of paper, but there’s something that happens to a Djinn when it’s been taken out of the wild for five, ten, twenty generations. Part of ’em becomes domesticated. No, what you want is something with piss and vinegar still running in its bloodlines.”
“But…isn’t the goal to domesticate the Djinn anyway?” Jackson said. He thought back to his first few weeks with Asena. She’d been almost feral from her extended stasis inside the Djinn ring. While Jackson had never felt in danger, there’d definitely been a rough patch before the two saw eye to eye.
Briggs laughed. “Domesticate? Taming ain’t domesticating, kid.”
He unbuttoned his dirty shirt and pulled it back to show a series of long, pale scars across his dark chest. “See those? Wanna know where they came from?”
“Let me guess,” Kay said. “Some Djinn that tried to kill you while you were capturing it?”
“Not just any Djinn.”
He nodded over to Midnight who was lying on a collapsed couch in one corner of the office. The Hurricanther’s head perked up when he saw Briggs show Jackson and Kay his scars.
“Midnight did that to you?” Jackson whispered. He stared in horror at the gnarly scars and back at the supple, powerful creature whose belly he’d been rubbing a half hour before. Midnight gave a couple of sleepy blinks and laid back down, tail twitching as he worked on his nap.
Briggs nodded. “Things didn’t exactly go as planned. I tracked Midnight across the jungles of Gularoon for three days before I finally got close enough to attempt to Bond him to the Djinn ring. He was i
n his Basic form back then, but I’m still lucky he didn’t tear me to shreds.”
Jackson suddenly felt a number of reservations about going off into the wilderness to wrestle with some untamed Djinn in the hopes he could get it into the Djinn ring before it mauled him to death. He also realized he had only the vaguest ideas of how the actual process of taming a Djinn happened. Briggs, it seemed, noticed his sudden hesitancy.
“What’s the matter? If you’re not up for it, you can always go persuade a cute little Bobbity to be your friend.”
Jackson scowled. “Ha. Ha. I’m not scared. Just…thinking about things.”
“Where exactly do you have in mind if none of the Djinn around here are good enough?” Kay asked. “It’s not like Jackson can just walk onto one of the preserves and find himself a rare Djinn.”
“You let me take care of that,” Briggs replied with a smirk. “I’ve still got a few connections around the business — I can get us into a pretty sweet location.”
Jackson felt a burst of excitement — most Djinn parks and preserves cost thousands upon thousands of dollars to get into, those that weren’t limited to tags drawn in a lottery, anyway. Kay, he noticed, seemed less sure.
“Is this legal?” she asked. “And by us, I’m assuming you mean you and Jackson? The last thing I want is to wander around the forest waiting for one of you to get killed.”
“Hey!” Jackson said. “Asena won’t let anything happen to us! Have a little faith, why don’t you?”
Asena barked, as if backing up her tamer.
“That’s exactly why you’ve got to come, young lady,” Briggs said. “You’re one of the best damn Djinn medics I’ve seen.”
“Really?” Kay said, a dry, unbelieving tone in her voice. “One of the best?”
“I was trying to flatter you, but if you want to be that way, fine. You’re the only one I know who can make the trip with us tomorrow,” Briggs clarified. “If things get hairy out there, we’re going to need your help. And there’s a good chance things will get a little hairy.”
Djinn Tamer - The Complete Bronze League Trilogy Page 29