As Killian guided the machine out of the garage, it slipped into the night and roared powerfully down the street. The thrum of the engine reverberated through her chest like a rock concert. She became vaguely aware of Killian talking to her over the noise of the engine.
"We are having dinner at Father's place on Central Park West. It's not his primary residence, of course. His palace is in his seat of power in Eastern Europe. But most of the Councilors have residences in most regions."
"Who is the Councilor for North America?" Azar asked out of interest. She'd meant to look it up, but never found the time.
"The Ghul."
Azar screwed up her nose. Great. She was going to have to move once her servitude was over. Last thing she wanted was to be under the rule of the Ghul.
Killian informed her that the Sila controlled Western Europe, the Shaitan controlled Africa, the Marid the Asia-Pacific countries and the Jann controlled South America. Azar appreciated that he gave her the information with cool professionalism and not as if she were stupid because she didn't know this already, when every five year old Djinn child knew this information and more.
It put her teeth on edge when people told her things really slowly, as if she were stupid rather than uninformed. She’d already known that the Council divided up the world into territories. In theory, the territories were just to make it easier for all Djinn to have access to one of the Council members, and the rulings were supposed to be enforced worldwide. In practice, however, the laws and rulings were enforced differently in every territory. It's why the Adel who chose to stay on after their servitude considered themselves members of every race, and of none. They enforced the letter of the law, no matter where they were.
The car continued to purr through traffic, like a puma on the scent of its prey, until they idled opposite Central Park. Killian slid the Lamborghini effortlessly to the curb in front of a beautiful nineteenth century townhouse.
As Killian moved around the car to open her door, Azar had the distinct feeling that she was Cinderella, and she'd just arrived at the ball. It was hard for the orphan who lived on the streets to reconcile herself with this level of outrageous luxury. Standing on the footpath in front of the doorway, her mouth hung open in pure awe.
"This place has to be at least four stories," she exclaimed breathlessly.
"Six actually, if you count the wine cellar and rooftop solar. Are you ready?" He dismissed its grandeur as if it were nothing.
No, she wasn't ready. She actually had the sudden urge to flee. These people weren't her people, with their flash foreign cars, Central Park adjacent monolith townhouses and countless fortunes. What could she possibly have in common with any of them, other than the blood in her veins? She didn't do designer, or Fabergé or lighting your cigarettes with hundred dollar bills. She was second-hand furniture, Walmart tank tops and pizza from the box.
A cold sweat broke out on her body. This had been a bad idea. No family was better than a family who justifiably thought you were trash.
She turned to Killian to tell him that she was going to catch a cab home, that she wasn't feeling well. But one look at the compassion on his face had her stiffening her spine. He put his hands on her shoulders, as if he knew she was about to bolt.
"Relax. All this is just a byproduct of how long we live. We aren't like that; well most of us anyway. I'm sure that they will find you as charming as I do. But you will never know if you leave now.” He gave her a mock stern look. “So suck it up, Princess, because it’s time for a long overdue introduction to your family." He put an arm around her shoulders and propelled her towards the ornate front door.
Azar sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She chanted to herself that it was going to be fine. She'd survived a crazed Ifrit wielding the sword of inevitable death, so this was going to be a cake walk. Killian banged the heavy brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head.
Saraf, her father, opened the front door. He looked at her and smiled broadly, stepping out onto the stoop to wrap her in a warm hug. A hug!
Azar stood stiffly, partly from shock and partly due to a lack of experience allowing people in to her personal space.
"Azar, I'm so glad you could come," Saraf boomed as he thumped Killian on the back lovingly. "I was so happy when Killian suggested a family dinner. I've been keeping my distance. I didn't want to overwhelm you. You'd been through so much." Sadness drifted across his face, but it was quickly chased away by warmth again. "But when Killian told me about the little incident of the other day, we knew it was time." He gave her a look of concern, and slight disapproval, as if she and Killian had been fighting over the last cookie and gotten into a scrape, rather than her turning homicidal on his ass and almost getting her hands amputated. She snorted internally, it was all a matter of perspective.
Saraf ushered them into an old cage elevator, and went up a single floor. It rattled and squeaked precariously, and she was glad when it shuddered to a stop.
She let both men exit the elevator first, giving herself a few seconds to take in the room beyond them. The doors had opened into an enormous open plan kitchen and dining room. The eight or nine people milling about the floor hardly reduced its sense of spaciousness.
She stepped out of the elevator hesitantly, and Killian returned to her side in a show of support.
Saraf cleared his throat "I'd like to introduce Azar," he said casually.
Then they were coming at her in waves of joyous noise and bodies. Manicured hands patted her arms, and voices struggled to be heard over the top of one another. She inadvertently sidled a bit closer to Killian.
Noticing her discomfort, he put a hand out to stop them. "Okay people, one at a time. She's here all night. No need to scare the life out of her.” There were a few embarrassed smiles, but everyone seemed to take a deep breath and move away at once. The whole thing made her heart pound loudly in her ears.
The woman in front of Azar just rolled her eyes at Killian, as if he wasn't the head of the Adel, just a pain in her butt. She knew immediately that she had to be Killian's sister, Keeley. If the sibling attitude hadn't given it away, her appearance would have. Although Azar could see similarities between herself and Killian, Keeley was nearly identical to him, from the shape of their facial features, to the color of their eyes. She was essentially a softer, more rounded version of Killian.
"Hi, I'm Keeley,” she confirmed. “It's wonderful to finally meet you. We've been waiting over a century for this moment." She reached out and grabbed both of Azar's hands, holding them tightly, her face painfully sincere. A little bit of tension left Azar's shoulders, and she murmured a similar platitude.
Now that the initial impact was over, Killian excused himself to say hello to his mother. Not letting go of her hand, Keeley led her into the kitchen. Everyone seemed to be leaning around the kitchen island, each holding a drink, studiously trying to act casual. A tumbler of Scotch was passed to her by a guy who looked nothing like Azar at all. He had fair skin, and dirty blonde hair. He did have her eyes though. Actually, they all had similar shaped eyes and brows. It was the only real family trait shared by all, otherwise they seemed to vary in shape, size and color. She thanked the guy, er her brother, and he smiled. Actually, they all had the same smile too.
"You're welcome. I'm Caspar, and the saucy brunette over there is my wife." He pointed to a woman in a beautiful white lace dress who was talking to Killian and an older woman, who Azar assumed was Killian and Keeley's mother. Caspar elbowed the guy next to him. "This is my brother, well yours too of course, but my full brother, Cy."
The man next to Caspar didn't look much like his brother at all. He had caramel colored hair and a solemn look, but his eyes were warm. He murmured a hello, and gave her a half smile. She had a feeling that the gesture constituted quite an animated expression for the man. Azar took a thankful sip of whiskey.
Keeley excused herself to check on dinner. She gave the men a stern look as she left and they both grinned back at her.<
br />
“You guys must have been trouble when you were younger.” They had mischief written all over them.
"You have no idea. We have another brother, Darius. Our mother says, that between the three of us, we aged her three hundred years. That's her in the kitchen with Keeley." He pointed to a little round woman with the same blonde hair as Caspar, who looked in her late forties. "She loves to cook. Keeley has barely been able to get into the kitchen all afternoon." There was such familial love in his tone that it made Azar's heart ache with longing for the mother she barely knew.
The evening passed in that way, people drifted over to her to introduce themselves and spend a little time getting to know Azar. What Azar didn't plan on was the huge download of information. For instance, she now knew that both Caspar and Killian's mothers lived in the townhouse together, and had co-parented their children, although neither of them had been in any sort of romantic relationship with Saraf for at least three hundred years. She knew that Cy and his brother Darius were both members of the Adel in South America and Cy was currently on leave. She knew that Caspar and his wife Renelle had put off having children for a hundred years, and that it was a talking point amongst the Djinn society, who believe that procreation is the primary duty of Djinn couples.
She learned that she was Saraf's youngest child. Killian's mother, Siobhan, told her that Azar's disappearance had really affected Saraf. Apparently, he'd searched for decades to find her, until the trail went truly cold. Azar hadn't known what to say to that, or what to think about the sympathetic look on Siobhan's face.
When they sat down to eat, Azar sat between Malee and Cy. Azar could tell immediately that Malee was the most like herself. She was also half-blood, and her mother had died over two centuries ago. Malee looked perfectly elegant in a flowing white blouse, and a tight pair of jeans. She laughed freely and took no crap from the guys; she'd punched Caspar when he'd joked about her having a raunchy tryst with someone from his company.
Caspar hadn't joined his brothers in the Adel, instead sitting on the Ifrit Business Cooperative, a corporation that handled the business affairs for the Ifrit race. Malee, she had gathered from the others, was a crusader for the rights of mix-breed Djinn, and was fighting to have the laws regarding intermarrying with humans or other supes, and even within the races, changed. Breeding between the races was still forbidden, due to the somewhat gruesome results of such unions. Azar had been shocked that it was illegal, but she guessed it explained some of the looks she got from the other Adel in the compound. She'd thought it had been all directed at her, but apparently some of it was because she and Bast were doing the nasty.
The fact that it would essentially be forbidden for her and Bast to have children was something she'd have to mull over later.
At another time or place, Azar would have grilled Malee over the rights of less than half-blood offspring, Freya specifically. But as it was, she was sitting around the table with the who's who of Djinn society and it just didn't seem like a wise topic to start.
When Keeley placed a platter of sliced roast beef on the table, the guys fell on it like wolves. Azar laughed as they pushed and snatched. There was a dainty clearing of a throat at the other end of the table.
Caspar and Cy's mother, Fiona, was giving the boys a very stern look. "I did not raise you like savages. Pass the platter to Azar, as she is the guest of honor." She gave Azar a motherly smile. "I can only guarantee that this will work once, dear. Next dinner party I'm afraid it's every person for themselves at meal time." She gave a frustrated sigh, and Azar could tell she'd tried to instil manners into these loveable barbarians for decades before giving up.
She accepted the plate from Cy, three pairs of hungry eyes watching her. She served herself a slab of beef, and Malee grabbed a piece while it was close, before handing it back to Cy. Bowls and dishes hustled around the table, until everyone’s plates were piled high. Conversation was a pleasant hum around the room.
Cy stuffed a whole potato in his mouth and then turned to her. "So, I heard you tried to murder Killian yesterday," he said conversationally.
Azar's fork stopped halfway to her mouth, and the rest of the conversation around the table shuddered to a halt. Azar felt Cy jump as Keeley kicked him under the table. "What? I did!" Caspar shook his head and Killian pinched the top of his nose. Azar looked down at her place.
"Would you believe it was a bad case of PMS?" she asked sheepishly.
Cy laughed and nodded sagely. "I would definitely believe that. Women are crazy, and Ifrit women are the worst." He got daggers from every woman around the table then. Completely unfazed, he stuffed another chunk of beef into his mouth.
Malee patted her arm. "Don't worry about him. He spends too much time surrounded by brawn, and no brains. Their idea of conversation is limited to boobs and farts." There was a murmur of agreement amongst the women and the conversation returned to normal.
Azar was onto the last bites of her dinner when her phone rang. Oliver's name glowed on the screen. She excused herself to answer.
"Hey Oliver, what’s up?"
"I need you at Bast's apartment ASAP!" His tone was frantic, almost pained, and he let out an inhuman noise.
"Shit, Oliver are you alright? What’s happening?"
"It's Donovan. The Shaitan came for Freya.” Another anguished sound came through the line. "They are going crazy in there. The pain is radiating out of the apartment. I can't get hold of Bast. Hurry!” The line went dead.
Azar stared at her phone in shock. Then she looked at the dinner party, and everyone was watching her. Fuck, what was she going to say? Sorry guys, I have to leave because two Shaitan are fighting and torturing everyone in a fifty yard radius over a kid I've been keeping hidden from the Djinn Council? Yeah, probably not.
She stuffed her phone back in her clutch. "I have to go." She'd have to try Bast on the way over.
Killian stood. "Is everything okay?" Cy stood too. Crap.
"Everything is fine.” Killian raised a single brow. Stupid lie. They all heard. "Alright, it’s not okay, but it's nothing you want to know about. I just have to go." She headed toward the elevator. "Thank you for dinner, Keeley. It was nice to meet you all. Sorry to leave so abruptly." There were some worried farewells, and Killian beat her to the elevator.
"I shall drive you where you need to go." His voice was firm.
"You can't. It’s not an issue for the leader of the Adel," she argued as the elevator descended floors.
"I'm coming with you. In an unofficial capacity if I must. But I am coming, so there is no use arguing. Now get in the car." Her Anadari bracelets had her opening the door before she even processed the words and she shot him an evil look. There definitely should be a rule about siblings having control over these things.
She slid in the car and it roared away from the curb. She directed him to Bast's place near Coney Island.
"Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to compel you to do that too?" It didn't help that he had his Director’s voice on.
"Fine, but you aren't going to like it. It's borderline illegal." He just gave her a bemused look, as if he expected nothing less.
So she told him about Donovan, and Freya's abilities, about keeping her a secret due to the Shaitan's "purification" regime. She left out the part about sending the girl to live with the Sterling Forest Pack. That was unnecessary information. She told him about the Shaitan assassin, and the fact that they were having a fight in Bast's apartment building.
Killian shook his head, but there was a small upward tilt to his lips. "I knew the moment you walked into that conference room, all full of swagger, that you were going to be trouble. Malee is going to love you," he laughed as he pulled the car into a spot down an alley. He threw his jacket over the back of the car seat. A savage grin curved his face. “I haven't been in the field in such a long time.”
Azar had a feeling she might see Killian's famed skills before the night was out. She was man enough to acknowledge t
hat the possibility scared her more than it should.
Chapter 13
The wave of nauseating fear hit Azar as soon as she stepped into the foyer of Bast’s apartment building. Wave after wave of terror inducing anger poured down through the solid concrete floors. She heard a whimper from the corner of the foyer and found Oliver huddled in on himself. It took every ounce of her self-control and training not to huddle right there next to him. She sprinted over, visually checking him for any injury.
"Oliver, are you okay?" She knelt on the floor in front of him, and caught his shaking shoulders. He gave a barely imperceptible nod.
"This is as close as I can get. The humans all left in droves. Even with my natural resistance, the fear is crawling beneath my skin like bugs." He scratched at the skin on his arm, and Azar noticed it was getting a little furry. Oliver needed to leave, right now, before he shifted in public. Although all the humans had left, it wasn't a risk she wanted to take. She helped him to his feet and led him towards the doors.
"Go back to The Onyx, get Jerry over here. Donovan might need a quick getaway." She cast a furtive glance in Killian's direction. Oliver nodded hazily and staggered out the front door.
Killian was standing in an empty elevator, one arm holding the sliding doors open. She straightened her shoulders and stepped in. She punched the number for Bast's floor, and the level of soul crushing tension rose with the floor number on the LCD panel. The elevator music was a stark contrast to the suffocating terror. It felt like a really bad horror movie; the music would stop, and she'd step out into the hallway and an ax-wielding madman would chop off her head, much to the gruesome horror of the teenage cinema audience.
The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0) Page 35