“What the hell have you done, Bast!? You had no right to offer yourself up like some sacrificial lamb. I could have served the hundred years. Now I am forever indebted to your Jann ass!” She was poking him in the center of the chest as she spoke, and his face got stormier and stormier.
“You’re goddamn welcome, you ungrateful wench. I’m sorry if the thought of you toiling away under the Adel until you're old and grey horrified me. Or worse, the plaything of some rich old troll king. Trust me, there are plenty on the waiting list. Or even worse, with your head rolling across this very floor! This is done now, so live with it.” He raised his bleeding finger as he yelled back, and then leaned in to kiss her hard on the mouth. “Besides, now you owe me.” He smirked at her, and Azar didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or kiss him or slap him silly. Maybe all three.
The decision was taken out of her hands as the Were’s came over to hug her, unsure whether to congratulate or commiserate. Oliver almost broke her spine when he hugged her tight, and Azar knew that he was thankful that he hadn’t caused her death, in one way or another. She’d lecture him on his stupid guilt another time. She hugged Aaron, and he thanked her over and over again. Tears welled in her eyes, and by the time Aaron let go, there were tear stains on the top of his shirt.
Anton shook her hand and seconded Aaron’s thanks. She shrugged it off. It had been Aaron who ultimately saved the day, and she made sure everyone knew it. She only realized that someone was standing behind her when Bast bowed his head. She turned to see the Ifrit Councilor standing behind her. She bowed her head also.
“Your Graciousness.” Azar hoped that was the correct term. Luckily, it was too late to chop off her head now for bad manners.
“Please, call me Saraf. The Ifrit have searched for you for such a long time. I would like to welcome you into our world, Azar.” He bowed. Azar raised an eyebrow.
The man looked familiar, probably because he possessed such strongly Persian features. They were proud and regal, his nose narrow and straight, with a hook at the end, and his face was thin with a solid jawline. He had dark hair and olive skin. He towered over her, and his shoulders were so wide that she couldn’t see around him without leaning to the side. He wore a smile, but Azar could feel the barely contained power in the man and it scared the hell out of her. Up close, his eyes were even creepier. It wasn't like there was a little flame instead of a pupil; it was more like little orange strikes of lightning piercing their way through his iris and then disappearing, only to reappear on the opposite side of his pupil. Fareet definitely hadn't had that feature, so it made Azar wonder at just how powerful Saraf was.
“Do the Ifrit search for every bastard child they spawn?” Azar couldn't help that her tone was a little acerbic. A century of distrust wasn't washed away in a day.
“Actually we try to, yes. However, I had a special interest in you. I try to gather all my progeny into Djinn society as soon as possible. Due to their incredible strength, it is unwise to leave them to discover their own nature out in the world. Unfortunately, your mother disappeared with you before I could come and collect you both after your birth. I like to think I am not, uh, what’s that term the humans use? A deadbeat Dad?”
“Excuse me?” Azar croaked.
Perhaps she'd actually gone insane in her cell. She could swear that this stranger, this hulking beast of an Ifrit, was saying he was her father. At least now she knew why he looked familiar. Her nose was a smaller version of his, her mouth was his mouth with a feminine twist, the shape of his eyes was exactly like hers. The black dots swam in her vision again, and she collapsed down in the chair beside her. This was too much. She stuck her head between her knees and breathed deep.
She could vaguely hear Bast suggesting that Saraf leave the subject for another day, and Saraf saying goodbye. Her hands were wet, and she realized that it was from the tears pouring down her face. She cried out of relief that she wasn’t dead, out of frustration and out of regret.
She was still crying when Bast lifted her up, and walked her out of the room.
Chapter 16
Six hours later she was curled up on Bast’s couch in his apartment. She didn’t know why, but for some reason she thought he actually lived down on Coney Island Boardwalk. In reality, he had a one bedroom apartment on West Fifth street, overlooking a park and the beachfront. If she thought Bast's office was full of plants, it had nothing on his home. Plants literally sat on every surface, and dozens hung from the roof.
Azar could see his Adel sword leaning against a bookcase in a forgotten corner. A picture of Bast and an old man, she assumed it was Moselle, on the Coney Island boardwalk sat on the entertainment unit next to his television. She'd pulled back the curtains so she could watch the water through the double glass doors that led out onto the balcony. Bast had gone out to get her Chinese takeout, and the quiet solitude was almost too much for her. She’d had enough quiet solitude to last for quite a while.
What she really needed to do was go see Keenan, to tell him she was okay. To tell him that he was now forever beholden to a race of people that will kill him if he didn't agree to their terms. That she was tied to another man for the next fifty years, a man she had real feelings for. What she really had to tell him was there would be no future for them. She had to cut contact before she dragged him deeper into a dangerous world that he knew nothing about. Hell, she barely knew anything about it.
All of a sudden, her feet itched. She needed to get this over and done with. She stood up and looked down at herself. She was still in her slave whites from the trial. She tore them off as fast as she could. She went into Bast’s room and rummaged through his drawers until she found a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. The jeans were too long and a little too big, but she belted them up tight and they didn’t look too bad. There was some change on Bast’s dresser which she borrowed for the cab ride. Who kept fifty dollar bills in their change bowl anyway?
Azar wrote Bast a note, telling him she had gone to see Keenan, that she’d be back and to keep her Chinese food in the fridge for her. She also told him that she owed him some change. She hesitated to write ‘Love, Azar’ but it felt so right that she wrote it anyway.
Azar put back on the slippers the Council had provided, and walked down the twelve flights of stairs to the street. By a stroke of luck, she got a cab straight away and directed them to her apartment. Azar knew that’s where Keenan would be. She didn’t know how she knew that, but her gut told her to go straight to her apartment. Besides, she wasn’t even sure where Keenan lived.
The cab ride to her apartment seemed to take forever. Azar’s notion of time had changed drastically lately. Time could be a balm or a torture. She paid the cabbie as he pulled up in front of her apartment.
She stood there looking at the building that was her former sanctuary. She didn’t know if being in the Adel would mean she would have to be housed in the Council compound or if she could keep her apartment. She hadn’t stuck around to find out. Tomorrow she would bite the bullet and go back to see Mira. She would begin her fifty years of slavery. Today she had to tie up loose ends, starting with the one sitting in her apartment.
When Azar reached her front door, she realized she didn’t have her keys on her. She’d left them at the station with her other stuff on the night she was abducted. She raised her hand and knocked. It felt weird knocking on her own door, as if she was now a stranger in her own life. She was someone different now. She was no longer Azar, in hiding and on the run. She was Azar, known slave of the Council, Adel member, no longer an orphan.
The door flew open before she could dwell on the latter point, and Keenan filled her vision. He looked like shit. He’d lost weight and hadn’t shaved. His shirt was dirty and his hair was scruffy. He had bags under his eyes, and new worry lines between his brows.
“You look like hell.” It was the best she could come up with that wouldn't result in her breaking down into a hysterical mess. Keenan didn’t answer, just dragged her into his body an
d squeezed her close until she thought she might run out of breath.
“I thought you were dead. Bast said you’d been stabbed in the heart, that you were being taken care of, but he wouldn’t let me go and see you. He said you had to go to trial, that they could give you a death sentence for telling me what you were. This has been the longest day of my life. Oliver sent me a text to tell me you were okay, but he couldn’t elaborate.” He dragged her into the apartment, his body still pressed close to hers as if he was scared that she would disappear if he let her go.
Azar swallowed the lump in her throat, and moved them both to the couch. He had better be sitting for this. She took a deep breath and explained; about her sentence, about how Bast was going to serve her other fifty years. She even explained about her father being the Ifrit Councilor.
“The problem is Keenan, that they made a judgment about you as well. About whether you were a liability or not.” Keenan sat back on the couch, his face going suddenly grey. “They ruled that you were to become an authorized disclosure, but only if you became intelligence for the Adel. If you refuse, they will have you killed.” Azar let the news sink in, waiting for the anger and denial that would surely follow.
Instead of rage, Keenan seemed calm. Still very pale, but calm. “What would that entail exactly? Would I be putting people at risk?” Azar couldn’t believe how calmly he was contemplating his sentence.
“I don’t think so. I’m not really sure, but I think it’s basically just fudging some reports when the crime appears to have been done by a Djinn. Maybe reporting anything that looks like a Djinn crime to the Adel. I can’t imagine that they would want too much from you. The Djinn don’t exactly have a high opinion of the usefulness of the human race.”
Keenan was nodding blankly. She felt ashamed. She had been the cause of that expression a lot over the last week or so. Reaching out, she ran her palm over his cheek. The bristly growth on his jaw scraped against her palm, so unlike the clean cut Keenan Reilly of two weeks ago. She rubbed the pad of her thumb over the deep grooves that had suddenly appeared around his eyes, trying to erase them. Keenan pressed his face against her hand, closed his eyes and sighed.
He turned his face and pressed a kiss against her palm. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you.” His voice was rough and Azar’s heart constricted. The next part was going to be painful.
“That’s the other thing, Keenan. Like I said, I’ve been sentenced to fifty years of servitude under the Adel. Bast volunteered to complete the other fifty years of my servitude. I will have to live, sleep and eat at the Council Compound.” Keenan moved his face away from her hand and sat back.
“What are you saying?”
Azar swallowed hard. “What I am saying is that there can be no more you and me. I am a slave. You will be in your eighties when I'm released. I am no longer my own person but compelled to meet the every need of my master. It’s a physical imperative. I can't disobey a command, because these prevent it." She raised her wrists so he could see her Anadari Bracelets. “If they ordered me to kill you, I would have to do it! So I think it’s best if we maintain our distance. It will be safer for us both. They are letting me keep my job for now, until they find something else for me to do, so we will run into each other there. But I’d like to go back to the way things were a month ago." She flinched back as Keenan jumped up off the couch.
“A month ago? A month ago, we could barely say a civil word to one another. A month ago, you weren’t a slave, and I didn’t have a noose around my neck that could be tightened if I somehow displease a race of people I had no idea existed. So, I’m sorry Azar, but there is no going back to the way things were a month ago!” She knew he was really angry, his Irish lilt had gotten so thick towards the end that she had to strain to understand. He went over to the kitchen counter and poured himself a scotch. It appeared he'd replenished what had been demolished during the celebrations with the Weres.
She decided to go pack some of the things she’d need and let him calm down. She couldn’t imagine being back here anytime soon. She walked into her bedroom and pulled out a duffel bag from the back of the closet. She put in the normal stuff, clothes and toiletries, her phone charger and her laptop. She reached under her bed and pulled out a wooden box that was stuffed full of the mementos of her life; a locket with her mother’s picture, a vial of sand from Persia, pictures of her and her workmates from every fire station she had worked at. Little things that say, hey, I've lived and loved. She placed it gently on top of her duffel bag.
She changed out of Bast’s stuff, folding it and putting it inside her duffel too, before zipping the bag shut. Everything from her one hundred and twenty five years of life fit in that bag. The rest was just stuff. But she still felt sad at leaving it all behind. They were remnants of a happy life.
Azar picked up her duffel and carried it into the entry hall. She walked over to the kitchen counter and pulled a tumbler from the cupboard. She poured another scotch for Keenan, who was still leaning against the counter, and one for herself. He looked as if someone had just run over his brand new puppy, and it tugged at her gut.
She raised her glass in the air. “To us. It may have been brief, but it meant more to me than you will ever know.” She clinked her glass to Keenan’s. He looked down at her face and a stubborn look that meant trouble came into his eyes.
“To us. And to the Irish. When we know what we want, we fight tooth and nail to get it.” He downed his drink in one gulp, his eyes never leaving hers. Azar should have known he wouldn’t just go quietly into the night. She rinsed her glass out and placed it in the drainer, purely out of habit. She shook her head, muttering under her breath about the bloody Irish.
She went to the hall and picked up her bags. She turned back to Keenan and gave him a sad smile. He raised his glass again and nodded. He saw this as a challenge, not a break up, if the look of determination on his face was anything to go by. Nothing with Keenan Reilly ever went smoothly.
Azar opened the door to her apartment, hopefully not for the last time, but quickly realized that the doorway wasn’t empty. The big Adel who had caught her when she had collapsed on the way to her trial was blocking the way. He nodded curtly again, and Azar wondered if he was mute. So far he’d done a lot of nodding and not much speaking. In the next second, he proved her wrong.
“Azar, I am Danian. I am the human’s handler.” Azar could hear Keenan striding over to the door. She pushed Danian back into the hall and shut the door quickly behind her. She glanced up and down the hall to make sure it was empty.
“Look, I know you don’t have to, and you probably think it’s contemptible, but his name is Keenan. He won’t respond well to being called ‘the human’ or being told you are his handler. He’s a smart guy, not a piece of office equipment, so treat him as such and the Adel will have a trustworthy ally for life. He deserves better than the hand he has been dealt, so I beg of you to please treat him with respect, and I promise you he will return it.” Her voice dropped to a whisper so Keenan, who was just on the other side of the door, couldn’t hear. “He is going to be a bit prickly for a little while, because he doesn’t really understand. He’s been thrown in the deep end, so just give him time.”
Danian stared down at her, and Azar hoped he wouldn’t have her punished for being an unruly slave already, not even eight hours into her servitude. But the large man just nodded once. Keenan opened the door and just stared, but Danian ignored him for a second.
“Mira expects you at the compound at 0600 sharp. It wouldn’t bode well to be late.” He turned to Keenan. “Keenan, my name is Danian. I am to be your contact at the Adel. May I come in?” When Keenan nodded, a little bit dazedly, Danian turned back to her. “You are dismissed.” He walked through the door, shutting it firmly behind Keenan and himself.
Azar didn’t really remember getting in the elevator and travelling down to the ground floor, but when she stepped out of that large metal box, she felt like she was leaving so
mething behind. It was sad and fearfully wonderful at the same time. She could live out in the open now. She could explore a whole new world filled with people just like her. She was free to love and free to test her own abilities. Apparently there was a silver lining to the dark cloud that was fifty years of slavery.
She pushed through the buildings front door, her arm already raised to hail a cab. She lowered it slowly as her eyes fell on Bast leaning against his car.
“I thought you might need a ride,” he said casually as he walked over to take her duffel bag and stow it on the back seat.
She just looked at him, the sun shining down on his golden hair, and her heart leapt in her chest, even as it was breaking for the man she’d left in her apartment. She still felt as if she was down a rabbit’s hole like Alice, but she was no longer drowning. Instead she was going to be stuck at the Mad Hatter’s tea party for the next fifty years. Except it wasn't her that was crazy, but the rest of the world.
He held the door open for her as she slid into the passenger seat, before walking around to slide behind the wheel. She rested her head on the plush leather and let her mind go blank. The weight of the world, or at least New York City, had been lifted off her shoulders and now she could take this small moment of peace.
When Bast continued past his apartment building, Azar realized he was taking her to Coney Island. Somehow, he just knew that she needed the sand and the surf, and the whirling lights of the amusement rides. She needed to immerse herself in humanity.
He parked in his spot next to the warehouse, and came around to open the door for her. He held her hand as she slid out, and instead of letting go, he maintained a good grasp on it. He reached over to the tiny backseat and pulled out a plastic shopping bag filled with Chinese food.
Still holding her hand, he walked her down to the boardwalk, and led her to an empty bench overlooking the ocean. People bustled around behind them, drifting back and forth from the railing to the food vendors. It was all blissfully normal. These people had no idea how close to death they had come.
The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0) Page 21