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

by Grace McGinty

  Aaron had begun to pant in pain, and she grabbed him around the waist and deadlifted him to his feet. “I’m going to put you somewhere a little less exposed. Now that you aren’t a bargaining chip, I don’t think Fareet would hesitate to make your injuries a little more permanent.” She searched around the deck, desperate to find somewhere that wasn’t out in the open. The Staten Island Ferry had four decks, only three open to passengers. From her position on the top deck, she could already see that the Fareet had cleared out the third deck. On a normal day, it would be packed full of people taking pictures and kids hanging over the railings. She gently eased him down the ladder to the deck.

  Azar peeked through the windows of the top deck cabin, and it was dark and empty. She tried the door, but it was locked. She put her hand around the door handle and melted it open. She had to hurry, Fareet would be able to sense her using her power. She helped Aaron into the cabin and lowered him to the floor between the seats right at the back. It wasn’t ideal, but it was darkened and it might keep Aaron off of Fareet's radar.

  “Whatever happens, don’t move. Anton wouldn’t forgive me if you survived this long and then you died through misguided heroism.” Aaron nodded reluctantly. He didn’t look like he would be going anywhere fast.

  She left him there and ran down along the side of the ship towards the stern, where the stairs to the lower levels were located. The wind whipped her hair into her face and water splashed up from the side of the boat to leave droplets on her skin. Only she would have to save a city wearing nothing but her underwear, and not even the pretty Victoria’s Secret stuff she'd bought with Oliver.

  She still had her hands chained in front of her, and she would be useless until she could find a way to get them free of the chain. She slid around the corner of the deck and came face to face with Fareet.

  “I should have known you wouldn’t stay where you are supposed to. You’ve been ruining everything from the beginning, why would you stop now?” he shouted, his face reddening with anger. Azar back peddled away from him and the stairs. Fareet strode towards her, unsheathing Drakhul, so Azar did the only thing she could think of. She freed her inner Ifrit.

  She hadn’t turned completely Ifrit in almost a century. The need to keep hidden far outweighed the need to give into the other half of her nature. The remaining clothing she was wearing, her singlet and underwear, turned to ash in microseconds as flames engulfed her torso and spread to her limbs. Two huge fiery wings burst from her back, unfurling like flaming petals. Even the individual strands of her hair caught fire and stood up from head like a raging candle flame. Because she was only half Ifrit, she maintained her human anatomy, rather than morphing like a full blood.

  Fareet just sneered. “Impressive for a half blood, but we both know that there is no way you can defeat me.”

  But he didn’t change form. Azar realized that he couldn’t be full Ifrit and wield Drakhul without significantly raising the odds of killing himself in the process. Just a single errant flame lick against the blade would be a mortal blow, as equally deadly as a blade through the heart. The same rule applied to her, but it evened out the odds a little in her favor. Although her fire wouldn’t harm him, the Djinn were faster and more agile in their natural form. They could fight longer, harder and with more resilience than if they were in their far more clumsy human forms. It also gave her an aerial advantage. She had wings, and Fareet was earthbound.

  “It’s time for you to meet the Balraka in hell, Fareet!” Azar shouted, spreading her wings out around her and taking to the air. She'd apologize to Donovan for stealing his line after this was all over.

  Fareet charged at her, brandishing Drakhul with skill that was long forgotten in this modern age. He was quick on his feet, and Azar was unused to using her wings, so the first swing of the sword almost ran her through the chest before she could dodge backwards. It was then, in that split second, Azar took the greatest gamble of her life.

  She thrust her slave cuffed hands out in front of her. Drakhul hit the chain connecting her slave cuffs together, and slid through it like butter. She sent a small prayer of thanks to whatever deity looked out for half blood Djinn that got themselves into ridiculously dangerous situations.

  The consummate swordsman, Fareet didn't even hesitate over her freed hands, and attacked again while Azar was on the back foot. He continued to attack high, so Azar couldn’t take to the air again. She pulled her flames in tight, so that she looked as if she had rippling orange skin. She dodged Fareet’s swings until she was almost backed up against the cabin of the ferry. This was not going very well. Her eyes darted around the deck for a weapon as she barely missed a swipe to her neck.

  Azar saw an emergency ax six feet behind Fareet’s back, and she knew that it was her only chance of gaining the upper hand. As Fareet leaned into his next swing, Azar waited until gravity pulled the long blade down to its lowest point and then flew backwards and up, flying high over his head with one big push of her wings. Then dived down towards the deck. She hit the boards at a run, and smashed through the safety glass with her fist. The glass gouged cuts into her hand as she pulled the ax free. She heard Fareet's footsteps closing the distance fast and she cast out her preternatural senses, waiting for the perfect moment.

  When Fareet was in swinging distance, Azar spun, turning to the left with the ax extended in her hands, and she narrowly missed a blow that the Rogue had aimed at her rib cage. She let the momentum of the turn continue to spin her until the ax met its target, sliding into Fareet's body, severing his arm. A disassociated part of her mind watched the arm drop to the deck with morbid curiosity.

  Fareet howled in pain and he dropped Drakhul to grab at the bleeding stump of his arm. It wasn’t a mortal blow, not by a long shot. If he went full Ifrit, he could pick up his arm and reattach it no problem. Azar desperately hoped he wouldn’t do that, but even if he did, at least he would no longer be wielding a sword that promised certain death. Azar was sure that she wouldn’t have been able to dodge its kiss forever.

  She swung the ax again while Fareet was unarmed. Like a true soldier of old, he sensed the attack and dodged the swing as he jumped to his feet, his severed arm still held in his left hand, and turned full Ifrit in the blink of an eye. Azar didn’t realize that a full blooded Ifrit could change forms that fast. Fareet's visage as he stood before her was so awful that it chilled the blood in her veins.

  In his Ifrit form, Fareet grew a full two feet, and sprouted wings twice the size of hers. His wings easily spanned ten feet either side of his body. His torso broadened and changed and his human feet turned to goat hooves. His face elongated, and although his features could almost be recognizable as human, they were twisted and cruel. He looked truly demonic.

  Fareet placed his severed arm against the stump of his bicep and fire engulfed the limb, fusing them back together in a spray of white hot flame. And that was that. Her tactical advantage was gone. She was now out matched and out Ifrited. She was a dead Djinn walking.

  “I am going to crush you!” Fareet bellowed in an unearthly tone. His voice sent shivers down her spine and she was glad she had wings, because his bellow made her knees turn to water. He reached down to grab Drakhul, but it was gone.

  She whipped her head around, desperately searching for the sword, but her eyes fell on Aaron. He had the sword clutched weakly in one of his hands, the other arm pressed to the wound in his chest. He must have snuck around behind them during the fighting. Azar gave a little internal cheer, but as Fareet’s dead eyes fell on the boy holding the sword, her cheer turned to horror.

  Azar rushed towards Aaron, but she was too slow and Fareet reached the boy first. His swung a huge flaming hand and backhanded Aaron across the face. The force of the blow flung Aaron’s body backwards into the guardrail at the stern of the ferry and she heard his bones crack as they met the unforgiving metal. His feet left the ground and his body teetered on top of the railing, the sword still in his hand, before he toppled backwards into th
e water below.

  “No!” Azar and Fareet yelled in unison. They both stood there in shock, staring at the empty stern. And then Fareet went batshit crazy.

  “You have destroyed everything!” he screamed hysterically, his flames so hot and high that he was melting all the metal around them, including the deck.

  He charged at her and Azar stumbled backwards in the face of such molten anger. She turned and ran, hoping she was more agile in her smaller form than Fareet. She could hear the flapping of his huge wings behind her, and realized he’d taken to the air. She could never out manoeuvre him this way and she was damned if she was going to die running away. She stopped and turned, facing Fareet with her chin raised and belligerence in her eye. She would die with honor and fight until her last breath

  “How does it feel to be beaten by a half blood?” she taunted.

  “Who said I was beaten?” Fareet sneered at her. He raised his arm and she saw a blade glint in his hand. It was the sister knife of the one that had pinned Aaron to the deck.

  As it always happened in life-altering moments, time slowed as she watched the knife leave Fareet’s hand and fly through the air. Her body was lodged in the quicksand of time, too helpless to move, and then she felt a burning pain as the knife's blade lodged itself in her chest. Direct hit. She clutched her chest as she fell to her knees, a painful gasp wracked her body as her lifeblood poured into her lungs.

  Fareet was in front of her in an instant, his eyes taunting her. “You thought one such as you could beat me? You were mistaken. Now your death will release hell on earth, and you’ll know in your final moments that the deaths of all those you hold dear happened because you were too weak to stop it.” He reached down to grab the hilt of his knife, ready to twist and remove it, taking along her heart and her lungs and finishing the job. “Now I have a date with a God that I must keep."

  But Azar had stopped looking at his deranged face. Behind him, a water vortex rose up from the sea and a woman in light blue leather was standing atop its foaming crest, like it was an elevator or something as equally mundane. The water swirled and bent, depositing the woman on the deck. Azar’s jaw dropped in shock. In her hand was Drakhul.

  Fareet noticed too late that Azar’s attention was no longer on him, and he turned just in time to see the blade swing that would remove his head from his body.

  She let her body collapse to the side, landing face to face with Fareet’s decapitated head.

  “No, you were mistaken,” she whispered, and then let death take her.

  Chapter 14

  Apparently there was no rest for her, even in death. She didn’t know if she believed in heaven or hell, or even an afterlife, but she imagined it wouldn’t be this loud. She could hear voices shouting, and hands pawing at her body.

  No, she sighed to herself, there was only one conclusion. She wasn’t dead at all.

  She couldn’t open her eyes but she could feel warm hands on her face. She needed to know if the boy was okay.

  “Aaron,” she managed to whisper, but she wasn’t sure that anyone could hear her over the noise.

  “The boy is fine. He’s with Tao now. Don’t try and talk, I’m here. Everything will be okay.” She knew Bast’s voice. She knew the feeling of its silken notes as they slid over her mind. He was close to her face because his breath whispered across her skin. His thumbs stroked her cheeks, brushing away tears she hadn't realized she'd cried. Bast didn’t have to worry about her talking, because even breathing was becoming impossible as the blood filled her lungs.

  “Mira, do something! She’s going to bleed out here on the deck. There has to be another way.” Bast’s voice was rough and angry, and she could hear his raw desperation.

  “I can only slow her heart rate right down until we can get her to the Council doctors. But she’s Ifrit, Bast. Cooling her body until her heart barely beats is going to be excruciatingly painful for her. She cannot die; this I agree. If Fareet’s blow kills her, the Balraka may still rise.”

  “He didn’t kill her with Ifrit fire,” someone else argued.

  “That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

  Azar shuddered internally at the thought. If her death meant that Fareet still won, then she would fight death with everything she had.

  “Do it,” she whispered again, sure that only Bast could hear. She could feel the warm blood gurgling up her throat and spilling over her lips. Bast’s hands tighten around her face. He leaned forward and kissed her lips gently.

  “If it is the only way. Donovan, hold her feet. Oliver, make sure she can’t arch her torso. Mira, she better live, or so help me, I will find a way to make the Council’s life hell. The Balraka will be the least of their problems.” He continued to stroke her face with the pad of his thumb.

  Azar felt two hands on her chest, either side of the knife protruding from the middle. “I understand Bast. I will make this as gentle as I can, but it will still feel like torture.” And with that, Azar felt waves of cold seep into her chest.

  She screamed as the ice cold froze the fire in her body, the pain spreading through her veins until every inch of her flesh burned with it. Her body convulsed as the ice crawled its way over her skin, until the very air she breathed felt like ice shards stabbing at her lungs. And suddenly the pain was gone.

  Azar was no longer bleeding out on the deck of the ferry. She was standing in the warm wind of her homeland. The winds shifted the sand in undulating waves and the hot summer sun beat down on her face. In front of her was a crystal blue pool, so clear that she could see the small fish swimming around on the bottom. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, the rustle of the wind through its fronds the only sound in the place.

  “Fuck! I'm dead,” she yelled into the nothingness and flopped down onto the sand. Fareet had won, and by now Balraka was probably razing her city to the ground.

  “You're not dead Azar,” a familiar voice murmured behind her. She knew that voice. She whipped around to see Bast's smiling face. She threw herself into his arms.

  “Are you sure? This seems like heaven to me.” She wasn't lying, the place had a beautiful tranquility that filled her body with peace.

  “No, Little Fire, this is an Oasis of the mind. I didn't want you to suffer. But you are still very much alive. I will have it no other way.” His brow creased with determination, and his arms tightened around her body. Azar reached up and stroked away the frown. It looked so wrong on his face.

  “You know, if this was my Oasis, neither of us would be wearing clothes.” She raised her eyebrows at him, and he finally smiled. In the next instant she could feel that warm wind over every inch of her body. She looked down and saw she was naked. There was no wound in her chest, or bump on her head. In fact, her entire body was flawless. The little scar she had from where she fell through the floor of a burning house during a call out two years ago was gone. Her boobs seemed perkier, her hair shinier and her legs longer. She was definitely dreaming this one up.

  She looked over to Bast and realized he was naked too. He was even more beautiful naked. A large scar ran down his chest, framed by golden curls of chest hair. There were many more. She'd never thought to ask where he'd gotten all the scars. But it was his imperfections that made him irresistible.

  “Is this more to your liking?” He asked, his voice like a caress.

  “Is this all a figment of my imagination?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “With a little help, but essentially this is all you. This is your oasis, and my consciousness is here with you, because you wish it to be so. But whatever happens here is just a dream.” He ran the back of his fingers down her arm and goosebumps popping up in their wake.

  “Then I want you to make love to me.” In this tranquil place, her worries about doing the right thing were gone. It was like someone had set her free. Life. Death. Duty. It all blew away on the warm desert wind. She didn’t have to worry about Keenan, or the Council, about Fareet or Balraka. All she needed to do was be happy
. She was pretty sure it wasn't slutty if it happened on another plane of existence anyway.

  Bast gave her a whisper of a kiss as a response, not closing the distance between them. His hand ran across her stomach and up between her breasts to cup her face. Only then did he pull her closer, so she could feel the solid warmth of his body against the soft curves of her own. She could feel his hard shaft pressed against her stomach.

  “I think you've bewitched me, Azar of the Ifrit. I don't know how you did it, but you've buried yourself inside my soul.” He kissed her deeply, his tongue slowly stroking hers. His hands never stopped exploring her body, like he was mapping out every inch and committing it to memory. He broke off the kiss to scoop her up and lay her down delicately in the sand. The little voice inside her mind that seemed to only exist to think absurd things at inopportune times, delighted in the fact that this was her imagination, and therefore she wouldn’t get sand in places that sand should not go. But even that annoying little voice died away when Bast took one of her nipples in his mouth and his roaming hands came to rest on the soft curls at the tops of her thighs. She gasped as his fingertip found the sensitive nub of her clit and massaged it ever so gently.

  But she didn't want to wait, didn't want to waste precious minutes on foreplay.

  “I want you now Bast.” She tugged at his golden hair, so soft between her fingers. Bast gave her nipple one last little nip and moved so he was poised on his elbows above her. She looked up into his golden eyes that promised everything and smiled.