The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0)

by Grace McGinty

  The group around the table was eclectic to say the least. They varied in age and gender, size and ethnicity. But Azar knew the Alpha straight away. It was like all the electricity in the room radiated from him. He was a middle aged man, maybe in his mid-forties, and he wasn’t big like Tao from the trail. He was tall and handsome in a lean, rough way. He had a large scar above his brow and big brown eyes that shined with a shrewd intelligence. This time Azar lowered her eyes and bowed her head immediately. Oliver seemed relieved. The Alpha stood to shake her hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you Azar of the Ifrit. My name is Anton, the Alpha of this pack. Jerry speaks highly of you.”

  She winced. She hoped Jerry hadn’t told him that she had threatened to make him extra crispy. Anton’s eyes gave a brief flash of humor, although the rest of his face remained neutral. Obviously Jerry had indeed related that story.

  “That’s very kind of Jerry. He caught me on a bad night,” Azar apologized sheepishly.

  Anton just nodded and motioned her to sit. Oliver sat next to her, Jerry was directly across the table. Anton sat at the end in a especially ornate chair and Dotty sat at the end opposite end in a similar chair. Obviously the Matriarch was a respected position and was probably the Alpha female of Anton’s predecessor.

  “Let’s get down to business. When Jerry brought us the news that the Rogue Djinn was using wolf scent to cover his attack on Onyx, we were very perturbed. We did a quick check of the pack, and have found that one of our young males has not been to any of his college classes in several days." He handed Azar a picture of a handsome boy, in his late teens or early twenties. The kid looked harmless; he was wearing a great big smile that ended with two little dimples in his cheeks. There was nothing remarkable about him, he just looked like the average teenage boy.

  "Many of our juveniles live out of the pack, for schooling and to taste a bit of the freedom they've longed for during their youth. Inevitably, they find that living out of the pack is uncomfortable for wolves. Not so much for the cats, of course.” He smiled at Oliver. “We questioned his friends and his roommate at his dorm, and no one has seen him or heard from him in almost five days. They said he didn’t seem anxious or worried, nor was he seeing anyone. It was as if he just vanished into thin air. They said that some of the other kids in the dorm went on a trip to Las Vegas, and they assumed he went also. We don’t believe that Aaron would do so without informing someone in the Pack first and definitely not so close to the full moon.”

  A woman sobbed down the end of the table, and one look at her distraught face told Azar that this was the boy’s mother. The Alpha sent the woman a consoling look as the man beside the woman held her close and rubbed her back, probably Aaron’s father. The Alpha continued.

  “We don’t believe that Aaron is the type of person who would voluntarily plot to hurt people, so we are going to operate under the assumption that he is being held against his will. However, if this assumption should prove false, he will be delivered swift justice in the way of the wolves.” Anton looked at Aaron’s father, and the man nodded his head in acquiescence.

  Azar didn’t know what kind of justice was meted out by the wolves, but she had a feeling that it was final in nature.

  “We intend to offer you and your compatriots’ assistance in tracking down your Rogue and recovering Aaron, one way or another,” Anton continued and she nodded her agreement. They could use the wolves’ assistance. They were more plentiful in numbers, and could help with the groundwork.

  “I can’t speak on behalf of my companions, or on behalf of the Djinn Council, but I would welcome any help the Pack could offer. What I do know is that he will make his move in two days’ time to coincide with an Ifrit holiday. I’m not sure if Jerry told you much about what he hopes to achieve?”

  Jerry nodded, along with the rest of the table, but Anton motioned for her to explain.

  “I’m not sure exactly what you know about Djinn history, but Balraka was the first Ifrit. He was so deadly and evil in nature that the other Djinn decided to imprison him in manacles of ice in the very bowels of hell. A particularly crazy Ifrit later discovered he could release Balraka for a short time by completing a ritual called a Fire Pledge. Then Balraka would rise up from the earth and reduce anything he could reach to ash. In a population as dense as New York City, that could mean millions of deaths. We believe that he will try and use my death as the final step of the ritual. I have the human police and also some other Djinn looking for the Rogue, but so far we’ve come up with nothing.”

  A man down the end of the table leaned forward to address Azar. “What of the Djinn Council? Why aren't they searching for this Rogue also?” Azar cleared her throat uncomfortably; there was no way to answer this question without sounding completely selfish.

  “Members of the Djinn have been informed of the threat and have promised to report it to their Council Sitter. However, due to certain circumstances personally, I can't go to the Council for assistance unless it’s absolutely necessary. To approach the Council would result in my head being cut off, so trust me when I say that while it’s a possibility, it is definitely a last resort.” There was an awkward silence around the table as people weighed up her predicament; one life to potentially save millions. Unfortunately, it was an easy decision when it was someone else’s sacrifice. Empathy was fast becoming a dead emotion in a world where social media made it easy to point fingers at other people’s failings, while hiding behind a thin veneer of anonymity.

  Anton nodded, a small crease between his brows. “We respect that this is your decision to make. None here will inform the Council. However, as a precaution, we may call back any Pack members currently residing in New York City. I shall give you five pack enforcers, and also any others who may wish to help with your search and disablement of this Rogue. I would give you more but I cannot compromise the packs protection, especially in such uncertain times.”

  Azar nodded her agreeance. She would never expect the wolves to help the Djinn at the expense of the pack. Even the idea was a complete contradiction to their way of life. Jerry indicated that he, Oliver and the other four Were employed by Donovan wished to assist the group and Anton gave his consent.

  “We thank you for any help you can offer. If I can find him, I promise I will do everything in my power to bring Aaron back safely.” She looked down at the distraught mother and her heart broke for her.

  Anton sighed. “That is all we can ask of anyone.”

  They went through some specifics with the rest of the table’s members, discussing which enforcers should go and which were needed within the pack. They also discussed the most efficient way to get every pack member out of New York in two days, and it was agreed that the enforcers sent with Azar would track down any members not reachable by phone, when they were not needed by her.

  Azar was struck about how nurturing the pack environment was. Anton cared about every single one of his pack members, and she could see the worry in his eyes over Aaron’s disappearance. It was nice to be in a room full of people from whom she didn’t have to hide any secrets. The wolves didn’t care that she hadn’t served her slavery, nor did they care that she had told Keenan such a big secret. They didn’t even seem overly bothered that she was an Ifrit, a being so powerful that she could kill maybe a hundred of this pack before they could bring her down. They welcomed and accepted her with a trust that was given freely; but she had no doubt that even the slightest betrayal of that trust would have very deadly results.

  “Okay, that’s all we can do today. Let’s go and grab something to eat and be within the Pack at this hard time.” Anton stood first, and then Dotty and then the rest of the table rose to their feet. Anton motioned for Azar and Oliver to join him. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” When Azar shook her head regretfully, he just smiled. “That’s okay. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Anton took them back out through the maze of tunnels and she was glad for the guide. It was a complicated route
to say the least. When they finally reached the open air, Azar took a deep breath in. It wasn’t that underground home was particularly claustrophobic, but being out in the sun and the air was just more comfortable for an Ifrit.

  She saw a small knot of children outside, all crowded around Kayla as she showed off her truck. One little boy stood off in the periphery, kicking the dirt and Azar guessed it was the infamous Caleb. Kayla said something to the group and waved, and then fifteen tiny pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. Azar waved back heartily. Anton gave her a questioning look.

  “I fixed her truck and Oliver restored her faith in boys.” Anton shook his head, his lips curled in a bemused smile.

  They all said their goodbyes, and as they drove away, Azar felt a little sad that she was leaving all that warmth behind.

  Chapter 11

  An hour and a half later, Azar and Oliver were back at her apartment. The enforcers had followed her home and then dispersed out to find pack members who lived in the city but couldn’t be reached by phone. They gave her five different cell numbers to reach them on if she needed them and left.

  Azar sat on the couch with Oliver. “Does this mean I should call you Cable from now on?”

  He screwed his nose up. “Yeah, but only if you want me to spank you silly.”

  Azar laughed and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. He was joking again. But joke or not, the idea of him spanking her sent little waves of happy down to nether-nether land. She needed to think about Keenan. Or Bast. She had enough on her plate. She didn’t need to add a sexy ass werejaguar to the list. Right?

  Maybe she was just hungry. That was the sensation that was making her stomach flip-flop. Not sexual attraction. She was just hungry-horny. Horngry. The sun was beginning to set and she was starved. She ordered Chinese takeout for the both of them, and they settled down to watch the baseball.

  At the bottom of the third, there was a knock at the door and when Azar opened it, Bast, Keenan and the Chinese takeout kid all stood in her entrance way.

  “So, who do I tip?” Azar grinned as she took the food from a very uncomfortable looking delivery boy and gave him a ten dollar tip.

  Bast slipped another twenty in the kids pocket too, muttering something about ‘emotional pain and suffering.’ Azar thought that meant that perhaps the poor kid almost choked on the tension that was flying around the hallway between the other two.

  Azar moved to the side to let the guys in. Keenan kissed her forehead tenderly and Bast kissed both her cheeks, just a little too close to her lips. Azar shook her head. Lucky she got a lot of Chinese food. She headed to the kitchen to get some plates and forks.

  When she finally got into the living room, Oliver was standing up, his jeans unzipped and pulled down to show off the red hand mark on his ass to Keenan and Bast.

  “Now I know why you two are having such a fight over her. She’s just wild when she gets her hands on you. When she really gets going, she just gets so smoking hot!” His grin was smug and his eyes glittered with mirth. She should have guessed this was how he would get his revenge. Keenan’s eyes said he’d like to get his police issued gun out and shoot both Oliver and Bast, and Bast’s eyes were just the same mysterious golden orbs she couldn’t read.

  “Put it away before I give you a matching one on the other side,” Azar said as she put out paper plates and cups. She was never a fan of washing up after a party, so she kept some supplies just in case. She went back into the kitchen and got the Chinese food. She sat cross-legged on the floor while Bast sat next to Oliver and Keenan sat on the single armchair. The four of them ate and watched baseball in silence until everyone was stuffed.

  “Okay, so what have we got?” Azar finally asked, resisting the urge to pop the button on her jeans. Oliver didn’t resist the urge at all, popping the button and unzipping his jeans until a tiny patch of curls glinted above the zip.

  Bast switched off the TV. “I got nothing. None of the other Djinn are unaccounted for. Closest known rogue Ifrit, other than you of course, is in California.”

  Keenan didn’t even seem fazed by the existence of multiple fire toting mythical creatures anymore. It was amazing what humanity could handle with an open mind. He rubbed his temples gently.

  “I went and visited the Brownsville apartment tenant today. The only connection I could find was the guy who owned the building; Ellis Fareet. He’s a local philanthropist/slumlord who works out of Brownsville and all the other poor areas in Brooklyn. He’s known for building not for profit community centers on the cheap and then burning them down to get inflated insurance claims. Insurance companies, and even the Arson Unit have tried to pin something on this guy, but nothing ever sticks. They blame gangs, activist groups or homeless people and Fareet gets his inflated insurance money every time. It’s not an unusual practice for the more crooked citizens of New York. We didn’t click because he usually makes more money out of his slums by keeping them up rather than burning them down, so we ruled him out when we did our preliminary investigation. But now that I know what I do about your kind,” he shot Azar an unreadable look, “I think he could be a real possibility.”

  Azar pulled her tablet out from between the couch cushions and googled Ellis Fareet. A news article came up from a month ago about the ground breaking at the site of a future Refugee Center that Fareet had funded near the Brownsville Recreation Center. She clicked on the photo of Fareet holding a shovel shaking the hand of another man. They were both in beautifully tailored suits and looked out of place amongst the crowds of refugees who had obviously been invited along to the celebration.

  There he was; the Rogue. It made her angry that he was posing like he was a savior when he intended to cause the death of everyone within reach. When he wasn't threatening her in darkened clubs, he looked kind of normal. Probably about as tall as her, thick eyebrows, dark brown hair and a round face. There was nothing unusual about the man at all, until you looked into his eyes. Then there was only darkness and hatred staring back at you. A cold shiver ran down her spine. She nodded confirmation and passed the tablet over to Keenan.

  “See the Middle Eastern looking man in the background? That is Zaid Ali, the tenant from the slum building. The man with the shovel is Fareet.” He passed the tablet to Bast, who shook his head.

  “I’ve never seen this Ellis Fareet before. I’ve been in New York a long time, and if he is as high profile as you say, I would have recognized him as Djinn.” He passed it over to Oliver, who looked at it, shrugged and passed it back to Azar.

  “Maybe we should get one of the wolves to go over and have a sniff, see if they can smell Aaron,” Oliver suggested.

  Keenan made a call to the station and got an address for Ellis Fareet. He relayed the address to Oliver who text it to the werewolves, along with a very stern message not to engage if they should happen to come face to face with the man himself.

  Azar brought Bast and Keenan up to speed about the meeting with the Sterling Pack elders and the missing boy. It was nice to finally have a name for the Rogue. Ellis Fareet; slumlord and all around bad guy. It was satisfying that they had finally made some progress.

  Fifteen minutes later, Azar stood up and paced around, waiting for the wolves to call. She wasn’t exactly sure what she would do if they found Fareet at his home. Probably call Donovan and let him tear out Fareet's heart. She hadn’t really thought about handing him over to the Council; it would present too many problems for her personally. They would just cut off his head anyway; better to let Donovan do it and get some sort of closure. She cringed at the thought of harming anyone, even the Rogue who wanted to kill millions of people.

  The guys were attempting bond over their mutual love of Azar’s car. She hated to interrupt but she needed to know if they had a plan.

  “What do we do if he is there? Are there any independent Marid still in NYC?”

  The Marid were the natural opposites of the Ifrit, and the only ones with the ability to defeat them in a one on one battle. They control
led water in all its forms; from being able to freeze it, to turning it to vapor and sending it back into the atmosphere. The Ifrit were also the natural opposite of the Marid. Nature had a twisted sense of humor at times. When pitted against an Ifrit, their strengths canceled each other out so that it was a test of wills. In Ifrit versus Marid fights, either the Ifrit got turned into an ice cube or the Marid got boiled alive. But every contest could go either way.

  Bast shook his head. “Not since Moselle left in 1980. The Marid are few and far between these days.”

  That would pose all sorts of problems for the Djinn Council. If the Marid were to die out to just a few, there would be no forces to oppose the Ifrit on the Council or to end the Rogues such as Fareet. The Ifrit would be able to rise up and overrun the Djinn Council, and there would be nothing left of the world but smoky rubble. Maybe the Shaitan could possibly step into the breach, in large numbers, but they were also few and far between after years of culling them down one by one. The balance and checks that had been part of the Djinn way of life for so long were failing, and Azar hoped the Council was trying to find a way to bolster it back to the natural order. She and Bast both knew that if not for her unfortunate problem, they could have just called the Council up and they would send out The Adel to deal with him.

  The Adel loosely translated to Justice in English, and they were the enforcers of punishments and deliverers of justice within the Djinn world. If a Djinn was seen to be particularly powerful, he or she could be ordered by the Council to spend his or her servitude in service of The Adel. Azar had heard a rumor that some chose to stay on after the slavery period was up, spending the rest of their preternaturally long lives hunting people down like rabid dogs. She could imagine the Shaitan and Ghul doing so, but probably not the benevolent races.

  Azar could see that Bast looked troubled. Everyone hoped that one full Djinn, two half Djinns, a pack of Werewolves and one mortal would be enough to beat Fareet, but the odds weren’t in their favor.