Oliver shrugged. "New girl called in sick. I think Donovan scared the crap out of her the other day. So they stuck me behind the bar because I'm prettier than Jerry."
Azar couldn't help but nod in agreement. No one would call Jerry, the head of Donovan's security, pretty. “What do you actually do for Donovan?”
Oliver wiped down a spot where a drunken girl had spilled something pink and strongly alcoholic on the bar. "Normally I just float around and keep everyone happy and calm. I dance with the girls, mosh with the guys. If someone spills their drink on someone else, and it looks like it’s about to get ugly, I give them a free drink card then call Jerry to kick their drunken asses out. If two guys look like they are about to come to blows over some girl, I step in, escort the girl to the bar and get the other two kicked to the curb."
He grinned that devilish grin and Azar could see him waltzing into the middle of a fight, wrapping his arm around a woman then waltzing back out again. Oliver was more attractive than 99% of the population and the female gender were drawn to him like flies to honey. The other guys wouldn't even stand a chance.
The Onyx had both human and Were employees, and it bothered Azar that some of the human staff were skipping shifts because of Donovan's temper. Donovan was half Shaitan and by definition, the Shaitan were petrifying. But normally, Donovan had control over his Shaitan abilities, and was able to tone it down enough not to scare away employees and customers. If he was involuntarily terrifying the bar staff, then Azar's gut said something was wrong. She downed the rest of her drink.
"I'm going to see Donovan," she told the guys. Oliver gave her the thumbs up and moved down the bar to serve a waiting customer, and Bast nodded but made no move to follow her. He was good like that. He didn’t feel the need to hover over her like a shadow. He respected the fact that she could take care of herself, unlike Keenan.
Like usual, thoughts of Keenan made her stomach clench into knots. Keenan Reilly was an arson detective, human and her ex-lover. He'd been caught up in the whole Rogue Ifrit drama and as a result had almost been sentenced to death by the Djinn Council. Bast had managed to talk them out of a summary execution by expounding his worth as an informant, and now he was basically sentenced to a life of being balanced between two worlds, on a knife’s edge of usefulness and obsolescence. He would remain in that precarious position until the day he died.
She waded across the dance floor, through the gyrating bodies, towards the hallway that led to the back office. The little hallway contained the women's and men's bathrooms at one end and a red door at the other. Behind the red door was Donovan's cramped little office.
As soon as Azar stepped into the hallway she could hear raised voices coming from the office. She discerned Donovan's booming yell and the distinctive screech that could only mean a woman screaming. Azar picked up her pace but relaxed a little when she saw Jerry leaning up against the darkened wall. Jerry was gruff, rude and had the manners of a barnyard animal, but his sense of right and wrong was well honed. He wouldn't let Donovan terrorize an innocent woman.
Azar stopped dead in her tracks when a small head peeked around the side of Jerry's tree trunk sized thighs. However, it wasn't the fact there was a child in a nightclub that had her stopping mid step, but the little girl's uncanny resemblance to Donovan.
The girl had Donovan's jet black hair and bottomless dark eyes, as well as the pale alabaster skin that made them both so ethereally pale. Of course, her skin was free from the multitude of tattoos that graced almost every inch of Donovan’s pale flesh, apart from his face. She speculated about whether other places were tattooed, but she was too frightened to ask. Not because she was worried Donovan would take offense, but because he'd probably show her first hand.
She estimated the girl to be about seven or eight, and already she had Donovan's long, lean build. Azar moved so she stood across from Jerry and the girl, a friendly smile plastered over her shock.
“Hey Jerry. Long time no see.” She bent forward and gave Jerry a quick peck on the cheek.
“Not long enough,” he growled, but there was amusement in his eyes.
She and Jerry had gotten off to a rocky start; she'd actually threatened to barbecue him. But like the other Were, Jerry had forgiven her and accepted her as one of his own. She turned to the child. "Who's your friend?"
He gave her a stern look that basically told her to mind her own business, but Azar just continued to smile. Minding her own business didn't really come naturally to her. If it had, she probably wouldn't be doing fifty years of enforced servitude. The little girl saved Jerry from answering.
"I'm Freya." Her voice was a squeak that threatened to get lost in the cacophony of metal music and domestic disturbance. Her big black eyes were solemn, her face too serious for a little girl who's most pressing thought should be what to dress her Barbie in now.
"Hi Freya, my name is Azar. It's nice to meet you." She gave the girl a warm smile. "Have they been at this long?" She directed the question to Jerry.
"About thirty minutes," came his gruff reply, as if he was parting with information under extreme torture. Chances were he was probably just sick of babysitting duty. Azar could hear snatches of the fight through the red office door.
"She's been kicked out of three schools in the last twelve months. The kids don't even want to sit near her in class. What am I supposed to do with her?" The voice was a thready screech, as if she'd been yelling for hours.
"I don't know Trina, how about take care of her like a mother is supposed to?" came the angry retort.
"I don't want her. She's nothing but trouble. She was cute as a baby, but now all she does is sit around staring at me with those creepy eyes. She doesn't do anything normal kids are supposed to do. Quite frankly, she weirds me out..." Azar shot a look at Freya, noticing the expression of hurt on the little girl's face before she quickly concealed it.
Anger bubbled up in her chest. How could a mother be so cruel? She felt the fire beneath her skin start to simmer. It was time to stop this.
She took the girl's hand and Freya's little fingers threaded tightly into her own, even though she was basically a stranger to the girl. Azar looked over Freya's head at Jerry.
"I think it’s time to interrupt this conversation, don’t you?”
Jerry nodded, and she could see the anger simmering in his eyes even though his face was a perfectly neutral mask. Azar pushed open the red door and two sets of eyes turned to stare at her, one set Djinn and the other human. The human woman was wearing a pair of denim cut-offs and a lace racerback tank in pink. She was pretty, in a Midwestern stripper kind of way. And as Azar expected, she didn't look at all like Freya.
"What do you want?" Donovan snapped, and Azar quelled the urge to run away. She had to give it to the human woman; she must have balls of steel to stay in the same room as Donovan in his current mood. In fact, Trina seemed to be impervious to the threatening anger that was pouring off Donovan in waves, too caught up in her own vindictiveness. Azar had heard that the Shaitan could inflict pain telepathically, but she was in no hurry to see that first hand.
"Well, I was just introducing myself to your daughter and I couldn't help but overhear," she emphasized the latter word and nodded towards Freya, "so I thought I would come in and check if everyone was okay." She shot Donovan another pointed look.
Trina glared at Azar, but when she turned back to Donovan, the look she gave him was downright scathing. Donovan gave her an equally savage look in return.
"I was just telling Trina that Freya would be in danger if she came to live with me."
She could tell Donovan was working hard to moderate his tone and the effects of his ability, but she was unsure if it was for her benefit or Freya's. Not that his current mood seemed to phase the child at all.
Trina leaned over and picked up her handbag. "I don't care, she is your problem now." With that she strode out of the room, careful to avoid Freya's eyes. Azar's hand lit up almost involuntarily. How could anyone aban
don their child so coldly? She was going to burn every hair on that woman’s head, just to teach her a lesson.
"Don't Dad." Freya's tiny voice resonated around the room and Azar looked over to see a deadly gleam in Donovan's eyes, power glowing behind the onyx orbs. The kid must have been able to sense her father’s intentions, because the power faded and he just looked at his daughter sadly.
Azar retracted her flame, but she heard Jerry growl as Trina strode past him. Abandoning your cub was one of the worst crimes within the pack. Donovan didn't take his eyes off Freya, but he ordered Jerry to ensure that Trina left the premises unharmed.
Donovan slumped down onto his desk and for the first time since Azar had met him, he looked utterly bewildered. She guessed parenthood could do that to a person. She wrapped her arm around Freya's shoulders and cuddled the girl close. Freya resisted for a moment, before eventually melting into Azar's side.
"We'll figure something out. Between us all, we must be able to find one acceptable solution, right? Until then, I bet Freya is hungry." The little girl nodded solemnly and Azar gave her a warm smile. "How about we order pizza and chocolate ice cream then? There's no problem in this world that can't be at least momentarily solved with chocolate ice cream." Her tone was too upbeat, but if she didn't put on a happy facade, anyone who walked into the room at that moment would confuse it for a funeral.
Donovan caught on to Azar's happy act, and pasted a half-hearted smile onto his face when he looked at his progeny. Azar was dying to know how Freya came to be. Well, not the mechanics of the act, she'd had those techniques mastered for quite awhile now, but the situation that led to Donovan knocking up a human. It kind of begged a very important question.
"Does Trina know about us? The collective us, I mean."
If the human woman was privy to the secret of their existence, it would make everyone's position a little more tenuous. The Djinn council were very harsh in the punishments handed out to Djinn who disclosed the Forbidden Secret of what they were. Most of the time, that meant death for everyone involved. She'd been an exception to the rule, given the circumstances, but she still lived with the crawling fear that one day she'd wake up and they'd change their minds. Then it will be poof, off with her head.
"I'm not an idiot. Trina has no idea. I told Freya, of course. She had a right to know, but I stressed to her the grave danger of revealing that secret to anyone, even her mother."
Another solemn nod from the girl. It would be tough being so young and having to keep such a big secret from the one person with whom you are meant to be able to confide everything.
Donovan shook his head. "She's only one-fourth Djinn, I didn't think her abilities would present so strongly. Hell, I didn't think they'd present at all. She wasn't even born with a slave mark.” He held up a hand. “And before you ask, the Council doesn't know she exists. The Shaitan are purists, they believe in keeping the bloodlines strong. They barely accept me; there was no way they'd accept Freya. The Shaitan have rather final ways of disposing of things they don't accept. Completely deniable of course." Donovan's sardonic sneer returned to his face and for some reason it made Azar feel more comfortable. Touchy feely Donovan wasn't someone she'd ever had to deal with before. Normally, getting information out of him was like pulling teeth from the mouth of a piranha.
Azar looked around Donovan's cramped office. He wasn't exactly an interior decorator, so the room was cramped and depressing, the only furniture was a desk with a stack of distributor catalogs resting on the corner, a large filing cabinet and two chairs. There wasn't a plant, photo, painting or knick-knack in the place. The overall effect was claustrophobic. They needed to get out of here and Azar knew exactly where they should go.
A knock sounded at the door, and she knew who it was even before Bast stuck his head around the door jamb, his face relaxed but eyes alert.
"You didn't come back so I thought I'd come check…" His voice trailed off as his gaze fell upon Freya, then Donovan and then back to Freya. He looked at Azar and grimaced, and she thought he must have accurately surmised that they were about to become neck deep in someone else's problem.
"Bast! Just in time. I was about to propose a trip to Coney Island,” Azar said brightly.
Bast lifted his gaze heavenward and shook his head. Freya squealed in delight at the mere mention of Coney Island, and it softened Bast's features as he threw the girl a quick smile. For those who were strong enough to get past the instinctual fear permeating from the tiny little Shaitan, she was really cute.
Donovan bent down to lift Freya and the little girl wrapped her arms lovingly around his neck. He squeezed her tightly in return, and Azar blinked rapidly to try and mesh her perception of big bad Donovan with the doting Daddy before her. Life was truly strange.
Bast nudged her in the ribs. "If you don't stop thinking so hard you might accidentally set them on fire,” he joked and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning in to kiss her temple.
She wondered if Bast was really thinking that she was more trouble than she was worth. The sad thing is, he'd probably be right.
Chapter 3
Azar demolished another slice of pizza and washed it down with a gulp of beer. The pizza was now cold and the solidified cheese squeaked against her teeth when she chewed. It wasn't a pleasant sensation.
Sitting around amongst the broken amusements in Bast's warehouse, they'd talked and Freya played amid the wonderland of boxes, broken carousel horses and decommissioned bumper cars. Bast had created a pit out of boxes for her, and emptied a dozen huge bags of sideshow toys into the middle. It was like a stuffed toy ball pit, and even Azar had to hold herself back from diving in. The draughty old warehouse was heaven for a seven year old. The adults watched her childish glee with their own amused expressions, every tiny giggle making them grin involuntarily. Her joy was infectious. Donovan watched his child with parental diligence, ready to save her from any hurt.
Now, Freya was asleep in the stuffed toy pit, curled up as if she were a baby bird in a fluffy nest, her tiny face angelic as she sucked her thumb. Bast had his hands interlaced in front of his face, his index fingers steepled against the tip of his nose, giving Donovan a perplexed expression. Azar didn't know if he really was perplexed, or just using his hands to hide the grin on his face. She was going to go with the latter.
"So let me get this straight. You knocked up a stripper in Reno, she ended up on your doorstep nine months later with a baby, so you put her up in an apartment, sent the kid to a private school, visited every Sunday but somehow forgot to inform the Council you had reproduced?"
Donovan gave Bast his signature expression of homicidal irritation.
"We've been over this. I thought she'd be mostly human. I couldn't have predicted her powers would develop to this extent. She doesn't even have a slave mark. The Shaitan would definitely have had her killed."
Azar speculated that it wasn't just the Shaitan who would have disposed of Freya as a problem. Her level of power, while small in comparison to a full or half-blood Shaitan, was still considerable enough to be wielded against humans. Her lack of a slave mark would present all sorts of problems for the Djinn. Someone like that, who couldn't be immediately pigeon-holed, would have no place in the Djinn's archaic system. The system, and its Council, were like most outdated systems of governance; they scorned anything new that could threaten their ancient laws and understandings. Speaking of ancient understandings, there was another thing that niggled at the corner of Azar's mind.
"Why didn't Trina wet herself when you went all big bad Shaitan in there? Even I wanted to run away, and I am far more immune to your abilities than a human."
"Maybe I'm losing my touch? Or maybe I'm just misunderstood and deep down I'm actually a nice guy." She knew he was being sarcastic, but after tonight she wasn't so sure it wasn't the truth. Donovan was never going to be citizen of the year, but seeing him with Freya was proof enough that he wasn't all bad either. He just shrugged. "She hasn't been susceptible to
my abilities since she became pregnant with Freya. It’s like the baby gave her some kind of immunity. Frankly, I don't know and I don't care. The bitch is lucky she isn't dead."
Azar was pretty sure that if his abilities had failed, he would have jumped across the room and strangled Trina the good old fashioned way.
In all honesty, she knew that she shouldn't be getting involved with Donovan's problems. She was already on the Council's shit list. She had barely got out of her last reprimand with her head. But she felt sorry for the little girl. Freya didn't fit in anywhere and it was a familiar feeling for Azar. So against her better judgment, she wanted to help if she could.
They all sat in silence for a while, thinking and planning, hoping and scheming for a solution.
Azar chewed her lip. "The way I see it, you have two choices; you can tell the Council about her and hope she gets integrated into Djinn society, if she isn't killed on the spot." She grimaced. Not her favorite idea. "Or you can stash her somewhere that the Djinn will never look and hope that she grows into her powers enough that she can hide them and enjoy a reasonably normal human life."
Bast took a thoughtful bite of cold pizza, screwing up his nose at the squeaky cheese too. "She can use my apartment if you need it. It's going to be sitting there empty for the next fifty years anyway."
Azar patted Bast's leg affectionately. He mightn't like getting mixed up in other people’s business, but once he was in the mess, he was right in the thick of it. Bast always had her back, and it made her heart swell. But Donovan shook his head.
"Thanks for the offer, but I don't think hiding her in the apartment of a Djinn known to flaunt the law is going to work. It'd be too risky for the both of you."
Donovan ran his fingers through his already tousled hair. All the tattoos that littered his body danced in the overhead lights. There were two skull tattoos on his arms that were messily shaded red and blue, where Donovan had let Freya color them in with markers earlier in the night. To Freya, he wasn't a scary demon of Hell, a near immortal who could kill people with his mind and strike fear into the bravest of warriors. To her, he was a giant coloring-in book and her Dad. It made him appear far less menacing. Donovan was quickly losing his Shaitan cred.
The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0) Page 24