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

by Grace McGinty

  “In conclusion, Azar Nazemi does not deserve punishment for her transgressions. To punish her for her failure to complete her servitude would be like punishing a child for being scared of the dark. She was unaware of our traditions; unschooled in our way of life. She deserves our empathy, not our wrath. Indeed, I believe that Azar Nazemi deserves praise for her courage, even at the detriment of her own wellbeing. I implore the Council not be the monsters that Azar was brought up to believe you were; I beg you to show her the mercifulness that I, and every other Djinn in our community, know you are capable of. Thank you.” Bast made his way back to his seat in the Jann section and sat down, his face pinched and worried.

  Azar was beyond worried now; a cold sweat had broken out over her skin and her heart felt as if it was beating a mile a minute in her chest. She looked at her toes and tried to calm down, but it wasn’t working. She looked into the faces of her friends, and felt her heart rate slow. Oliver gave her a reassuring smile, even though he had little lines between his eyes that weren’t normally there.

  The Marid Councilor spoke up. “Thank you Bast for your input. We recognize Azar Nazemi’s admission of guilt on both charges. As many of you are aware, the punishment for an unsanctioned disclosure to a human is death. However, we wish to hear from witnesses regarding the events of the last week to get a better understanding of Miss Nazemi’s intent. We have obviously heard from you Bast. However, you were not operating within the letter of the law this week either. This Ifrit’s transgressions should have been immediately reported to the Council to be dealt with. The Council has a lot of respect for you Bast, and your many years of loyal service within the Adel was taken into account when we chose not to put you on that podium to face charges also. However, it makes your statements in regard to charges biased, to say the least.”

  Holy crap, Bast had been in the Adel. That was how he knew Mira, how he knew the processes and the Councilors so well. She was stunned, but it explained so much about Bast; his disgruntlement towards the Council, the scars that littered his body and his easy assurance that he wouldn’t rat her out. However, the image of her gentle Bast as a cold blooded killer didn’t gel well with her. She now understood the shadows behind his eyes when he talked about his past. Azar snapped out of her stunned stupor when she realized the Marid Councilor was speaking again.

  “We would like to call Donovan Rixton of the Shaitan forward.” Donovan slowly stood and made his way down to the space between her podium and the race sections. The Adel guards all stood a little straighter, and Azar felt sympathy for the persecution that Donovan must suffer merely because he was of a certain Djinn race. “Donovan, please tell us when you became aware that Azar Nazemi had disclosed her true nature to the human.”

  Donovan looked at the Adel around her podium and then sadly at her. Azar didn’t think he was used to showing so much emotion. “I found out after the traitor had burned down my club and I went to Azar’s apartment with the Weres in my employ. The human arrived later, as I believe he and Azar had some kind of romantic relationship. When the human was told of threats made to Azar’s life, he accidently let it slip that he was aware of our existence.”

  “And what was Azar Nazemi’s response?" The Ifrit Councilor asked.

  “She punched him in the face and broke his nose.” A small smile quirked at the corners of Donovan’s mouth, as he recalled the night. Even the Ifrit Councilor smirked.

  The Jann Councilor spoke for the first time. He looked the same age as Bast, but who knew how old that was. “Do you trust the human not to tell others our secrets?”

  Donovan was silent, his face pensive as he seriously considered the question. “I believe that he can be trusted not to spread word of our existence to other humans. He accepted the information calmly and seems to acknowledge that telling another soul would mean instant death. He hid the fact that Onyx was part of a serial arson spree. I believe that at the Blue Smoke club he hid the fact that the death of a human girl was the work of supernatural forces. He did these things to the detriment of his own career, and under the threat of death. He strikes me as a man of integrity, and I believe he will keep our secret. I second Bast’s request that he be given official authorization from the Council.”

  “And do you believe that Azar Nazemi of the Ifrit should be punished for breaking such a sacred law?” The Jann Councilor asked. This time there was no hesitation from Donovan.

  “No. Azar has unwittingly followed our laws for a century. I do not believe she maliciously told this secret to the human, it was just unfortunate luck. When it was revealed to me that the human knew the forbidden secret, she did not try to convince me to keep her transgression from the Council. All she asked for was time to ensure that the traitor Fareet was stopped. She was prepared to accept her punishment, but not until she had risked her life to save us all.”

  That was technically not true. She'd had every intention of making a run for it after she'd brought down Fareet. But you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and Djinn.

  The Jann Councilor nodded to the Marid Councilor, indicating he was finished questioning Donovan, and the Marid Councilor allowed Donovan to go back to his seat. His back was ramrod straight as he walked back to his section and she could feel the waves of frustration pouring off him from her podium. Azar wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he did the best he could in a bad situation. She turned her head to look at all the Councilors, but they all had neutral masks for faces.

  The Sila Councilor addressed the other Councilors, “Does anyone wish to hear from any other witnesses? We have all read the statement from the Were boy, does anyone wish to question him?” Azar tensed. She hoped they wouldn’t be so cruel. She breathed a sigh of relief when the Jann Councilor agreed with her.

  “I don’t think that would be necessary. He’s been through enough at the hands of our people. We do not need to make him live this atrocity again.” He looked over at Aaron. “Is there anything that you wish to add to your statement?” Aaron shook his head vigorously, and the Jann Councilor nodded. “Very well. I think we should get on to the deliberation.” The Councilors all nodded and turned to the members of their section, everyone talking in hushed whispers.

  Mira had told her that they would seek the opinions of their races, and put forth a suggested punishment. Then they had to get a majority of Councilors to agree on the punishment. If it was a deadlocked, everyone in the room would get a vote on the punishment, including the Adel and any guests. Apparently such a scenario hadn’t happened in over three thousand years, and Azar doubted it was going to start with her.

  The room was buzzing with the low murmurs of the Djinn, and the sound was like white noise. Mira left her post to walk over to the Marid Councilor, and was saying something furiously to the group. Both Bast and Donovan were talking animatedly to their Councilors and the other people in the section. The minutes dragged on for what seemed like hours. Azar felt like she was made of stone as she stood still on her podium, afraid that if she moved she would shatter into a million pieces. Eventually the noise died down and the Ghul Councilor cleared his throat.

  “Have we all come to our decisions?” There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the Councilors. “Good, the Ghul shall go first. The Ghul recommend death by beheading for both the Ifrit and the human to whom she told the forbidden secret. Our laws are in place for a reason, to protect our race from the hordes of humans that infest our world. Although we are far more powerful, we are not so vast in numbers that we could win a war. Therefore, any breach of our laws should be met with swift and final punishment.”

  Azar let out a little gasp, which was studiously ignored by everyone as if she no longer existed. She should have known what kind of sentence would come from the race that spawned Lila the Hateful!

  The Jann Councilor scoffed, “So your answer to a dwindling population is to cut off heads? Even a Ghul should see the flawed logic in that statement.” He shook his head with bemusement. “The Jann
seek the sentence of a reduced twenty-five years of servitude, which takes into account the services already rendered to the Djinn people. Furthermore, Bast Shafigh of the Jann would like to petition for control of that servitude. We also believe that the human could be of service to the Djinn, and that he be officially sanctioned by the Council and set under the control of Adel Intelligence officers.”

  Bast wanted to be her Master? Although the thought of being at his beck and call every day for the next twenty-five years was a little irksome, she could see that servitude under Bast would be the best thing she could hope for. She crossed her fingers that more of the Councilors agreed with the Jann.

  She whipped around as the Shaitan Councilor spoke. “Whilst the Shaitan agrees that the death sentence is too harsh given the nature of the transgressions, we believe that twenty-five years of servitude is far too lenient. We suggest the full one hundred years of servitude. We don’t want more people believing that they can skip their compulsory servitude, a tradition that has benefited the Djinn for millennia, and the Council will be lenient. We rely on the servitude system to ensure our standing in the wider supernatural community and allow the Djinn as a whole to live prosperously. Therefore, we also suggest death for the human. He is a liability that we don’t really need.” Azar’s eyes flew to Donovan, whose face was set in a hard mask of fury. Obviously, the opinion of a half blood didn’t matter to the Shaitan Councilor.

  There was a murmur of approval amongst the seated Djinn. One hundred years of servitude. Death for Keenan. Little black spots danced in front of her eyes. The Ifrit Councilor stood on his podium.

  “One hundred years would essentially be a death sentence for Azar. She is a half blood, thus has a shorter life span than most and she will be in service until the day she dies. To behead her would be more humane.” She sucked in air like she’d been punched. They were going to suggest beheading? He own people?

  “However, that is not the Ifrit suggestion. We suggest essentially the same as the Jann. Twenty five years of servitude seems sufficient considering she has practically lived a life of servitude to the humans already. We also suggest she is allowed to continue to work where she is now. A Djinn in the FDNY has already proven useful. Although I hope we never have such a problem again, it is useful to have an authorized person who can maintain our secrecy when things get a little out of control. I think the same applies for the human. The Ifrit would be very grateful if this sentence was agreed upon.” The Ifrit Councilor gave a hard look to all of the other Councilors and Azar eyed him. Shocked indignation rippled through the crowd, though no one voiced any real complaint.

  Azar could understand their shock, she too realized that if his sentence was accepted, she’d be getting off pretty much punishment free. Was it just race loyalty that made the Ifrit Councilor give her such an indulgent sentence, or was there more going on there? Azar’s head started to pound and she didn’t think on it any more. The Council was in her life for good now, whether her life was years or only hours long, and there would be plenty of time to figure out the Council intrigues when her life wasn’t on the line. Maybe she’d ask Bast, seeing how he was the dark horse in this race.

  The Marid Councilor was shaking her head. “To show such favoritism would make a mockery of this Council, and the Councilor for the Ifrit should know better. We are unbiased towards every Djinn who stands on the accused podium, regardless of their heritage or their relation to anyone in power. This is not a corrupt court of the human world. Azar will have a fitting sentence for her crimes. The Marid suggest one hundred years of servitude, under the Adel in their intelligence network. Whilst we agree with the Ifrit Councilor that she should remain in her position as a member of the FDNY for now, she should be at the disposal of the Adel should the need arise. One hundred years of servitude is what is requested of all Djinn and the Marid don’t believe that anyone should be exempt from that. The human should also be put to use by the Adel. We don’t have enough resources in the human world, and I believe that having someone under our control within the NYPD is an opportunity too good to pass up.”

  There was so much inference in the Marid Councilors sentence that Azar didn’t understand. Was she referring to Bast? And by her heritage was she referring to being an Ifrit? So many questions crowded her mind, and the answers seemed just out of reach. Her nerves were now so shot that she was barely hanging on to her emotions. She wanted to scream or weep. This process seemed unnecessarily cruel. Each sentence that was given out could be the one that was chosen. It was like being presented with six different versions of your life, and the choice was in the hands of six complete strangers.

  Azar turned to face the Sila Councilor, the last to give her sentence. The Sila Councilor had the most sway within the group. She was old, and the Sila were known for their wisdom and negotiation skills. To Azar, that made her more fearful than the Shaitan Councilor. She knew in her gut that the sentence she would give would be the one that was agreed upon by the Council. However, the Sila Councilor was not looking at her, but rather at the Jann section and at Bast in particular. She pursed her lips and then turned back to Azar.

  “The Marid are correct in stating that one hundred years of servitude is what’s requested of all Djinn people, and therefore it must be served. However, the Ifrit are also correct in that giving you one hundred years of servitude would be inhumane, as you would work until the day of your death. So here we have a quandary, do we not? We have one hundred years of service that needs to be fulfilled, but only one of you. So the Sila suggest giving you one hundred years of servitude, unless someone else will complete half of the servitude for you. Then you would get fifty years of servitude each. The Sila suggest the Bast Shafigh of the Jann, who seems to have such a compelling interest in your welfare, completes the other half of your servitude.” The Sila Councilor turned to Bast. “We have yet to fill your role in the Adel after all these years Bast. Indeed, your loss to the Adel has been sorely felt by all. It has created a black hole amongst the ranks that refuses to be filled. Fifty years of your service would ensure that the Ifrit Azar does not work until she dies.”

  Blood roared in her ears as the rage and flames boiled beneath her skin. They were trying to blackmail him, using her. That wasn’t right.

  “No!” she yelled out from the podium. “I refuse to allow Bast to be forced back into the Adel. I will take the one hundred years of servitude.” She looked at Bast, and could see the resignation on his face. He was going to agree.

  She thought of the tortured look on his face when he spoke of the Council and Mira’s comment about the senseless killing on Council orders not being for everyone. Azar just knew she was talking about Bast. It all made sense now that she knew he was a former Adel. She would not inflict fifty more years of killing onto him.

  The Sila Councilor frowned at Azar. “You, as the accused, do not get a say in your sentencing. Bast, would you accept the terms of this agreement, if it is voted through?” Bast looked at Azar for a long minute. She shook her head, mouthed the word no and did everything short of jumping off the podium and slapping some sense into him. But he just gazed back at her, like he was mentally cataloging every kiss, every word, and every interaction between them. He slowly nodded his head, and all the air left her lungs for a second time. He was going to do it.

  “I would accept.” He gave a hard look to the Sila Councilor. She had backed him into a corner, and everyone in the room knew it. The Sila Councilor had just made her way onto Azar's shit list.

  The Sila Councilor gave a nod of satisfaction, obviously knowing the answer from the outset. “Then let’s get the voting underway, shall we? In order of presentation and by a show of hands, all those in favor of the Ghul sentence?” Only the Ghul Councilor raised his hand and Azar breathed a sigh of relief. She knew it was a long shot, but she was glad death was off the table. “The Ghul sentence fails. All those in favor of the Jann sentence?” Both the Jann and the Ifrit Councilors raised their hands. “The Jann sentence
fails. All those in favor of the Shaitan sentence.” This time only the Ghul and Shaitan Councilors raised their hands. “The Shaitan sentence fails. All those in favor of the Ifrit sentence?” The Ifrit and Jann Councilors again raised their hands and Azar had a dull feeling in the pit of her stomach that she knew where this was heading. “The Ifrit sentence fails. All those in favor of the Marid sentence?” Not even the Marid Councilor raised her hand for this option. Apparently, if they could get two Djinn into servitude for the price of one, they were going to take it. “The Marid sentence fails. All those in favor of the Sila sentence raise your hands?” The Shaitan, Marid, Ifrit and Sila Councilors all raised their hands. Four out of six, that was it. It was done.

  “The Sila sentence has passed. Azar Nazemi of the Ifrit, you are sentenced to fifty years of servitude under the Adel. Bast Shafigh of the Jann shall also serve fifty years of service in the Adel for you. The human has the official validation of the Council. He will be contacted by the Adel and told of his new status. If he refuses, he will be terminated immediately. You are free to go and attend your new duties. Bast, as we cannot bind you with Anadari Bracelets,” Anadari Bracelets was the politically correct term for slave cuffs. "We shall have the Scribe write up a contract.”

  One of the Adel led a pale hunched man over to Bast, and in his hands was a brittle piece of vellum. Both the man and the vellum looked ancient, older than both the Sila and Marid Councilors combined. The man waved his hands over the blank piece of vellum and letters appeared across the sheet in the old tongue. Bast just stared at it for a time, his face unreadable, before he took the quill pen from the Scribe, jabbed his finger and signed in blood. Azar vaulted over the rail of the podium and up to the Jann section of the room.