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

by Grace McGinty

  Azar could only feel relief that she was getting out of the jungle; she was not much of an intrepid explorer, or even a camper. She'd take driving the Shelby down a wide open road over bug bites and sleeping in trees any day.

  It was also a relief to be away from Jack, and their metaphysical connection. It was like the drop of Faery blood in her system pulled towards him every time she was in his presence, and it required constant vigilance not to physically touch him every two seconds. It was like she was three different entities trapped in one body; the human who was a hard working American, the flighty Ifrit who still shied away from its own kind, and the newly found Fae, who'd been screaming out for the touch of its own kind for a century and now that it had found one, it wouldn’t be denied. Although she didn't want to admit it to herself, and she would never, ever say it out loud, if Bast hadn't been along on this expedition, she had no doubt she would have succumbed to that formerly unknown piece of herself, and crawled into Jack's tent on the very first night.

  The sight of the boatman’s little thatch hut made Azar want to weep with joy. The two day hike out of the jungle went quicker; they were able to keep a faster pace and rested less, so they were out of the jungle in record time. When they came to the clearing that housed the pontoon dock and boatman’s hut, the sun was just kissing the horizon on the second day. It wasn't the Tahj Mahal by any means; it was made of thick wrist sized branches lashed together then lathered with mud from the river and a simple thatch roof. As they peeked through the door, they noticed that the boatman wasn't there. They'd paid him to come back every two days to check if they were there, as they had no idea how long they would be in the jungle.

  She lay down thankfully on a hammock that had been strung between two support posts and breathed a sigh of relief to be off her feet. Bast plopped down onto a rough-hewn stool at the small table. There was a little gas stove, and some canned goods in a locked food safe. Not that there was any threat of thieves down here, except the furry kind. They would be eating like kings tonight!

  "If I never go hiking ever again, I'll die a very happy woman," Azar moaned. Her body ached from the fast pace, and the little fat that had coated her body was now gone. She was all definition and muscle. "And I stink,” she added. Her first shower back from this trip was going to be the best of her life. Sweat and grime coated her body, and she was a dirty shade of brown.

  Bast slowly raised himself from the stool, and moseyed over to the hammock. He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.

  He made a small "mmm" noise in the back of his throat. "You're right. You do stink." He laughed as she punched him in the shoulder. "Is there room in that hammock for two?" She scooted over and they began the precarious process of both getting into the hammock with neither of them ending up on the floor. She snuggled into his chest, enjoying the moment of closeness even though it was unbearably hot.

  She might stink, but he smelled exactly like he always had; the sweet smell of the desert air and something undeniably masculine. She hated him a little right then, but not enough to move her head from the steady thump-thump of his heartbeat.

  "If I’ve deduced the days correctly, the boatman should be back sometime tomorrow afternoon, that should put us in Lábrea by about three. I can think of a very good way to pass the time," Bast purred into her hair as his fingertips ran lightly over her ribcage.

  She rolled her eyes. "You just told me I stink! Your pick up lines need some serious work.”

  "I just won't breathe too deeply." She couldn't see his face, but she could feel his smile against her hair. "Besides, maybe I find that stale corn chip smell an aphrodisiac." Now he was openly laughing.

  She rocked her body all of a sudden, gave a large shove and pushed him out of the hammock. Bast's chuckle bounced off the walls of the hut, and soon Azar was laughing just as hard, her ribs hurting in her already aching body. Bast reached up and tugged on her arm, tipping Azar out on top of him. Her arms and legs flailed about and she gave a little "oof" as she hit the hard muscles of his torso. The dirt of the floor beneath her palms was packed hard from years of use, and swept clean. She leaned in and kissed him, her cheeks hurting from smiling.

  "You know I love you, right?" she said when she could draw air back into her lungs.

  "I know." His smile shone with happiness. "I love you too." He kissed her nose. "Now I should make dinner for my Jaanaman. How do you feel about tomato soup and biscuits, hot off the stove?" She rolled off him to let him up and he bounded to his feet, then reached down to help her off the floor.

  The forest seemed quiet for once. Azar cocked her head to the side, listening intently. Too quiet even. She shot a look to Bast, and noticed he was listening too, all mirth wiped from his face.

  “Something's wrong," he whispered.

  She nodded in agreement, reaching into her boot holster for her knife. She crept over to her pack and pulled out the gun that was secured in one of the pockets. Bast did the same, before peeking out of the doorway, eyes scanning the surrounding forest. Crouching, he eased out the door, and Azar followed him on his flank, her eyes searching the forest to her left. She saw a flash of movement among the trunks.

  "We've got someone on the left,” she whispered. She kept her voice low. "And on the right. I think we’re surrounded."

  She lifted the gun, pointing it at the tree line, though the falling darkness obscured the shapes. She put her back against Bast’s, their movements defensive. "I think we should take our chances with the piranhas. Ease towards the water." His voice was so low, it barely caught on the breeze.

  As they stepped towards the water, the hidden assailants attacked. They came out of the trees with preternatural swiftness, and a tall blonde man in leather armor was in front of her before she could shout a warning. She moved the gun and pulled the trigger, and the man went down. Not a man, a Fae.

  "It’s the Fae!" she shouted at Bast, though she assumed he had already figured it out. The first guy was still writhing on the ground when a second assailant appeared, this one a woman. She aimed and shot, but the female warrior moved with such incredible agility that she was barely a blur. She was back in front of Azar before she could pull the trigger a second time.

  Azar jabbed out with the knife in her other hand, catching the warrior under the ribs. The cold steel reacted with the Fae and she screamed, falling to the ground next to her now dead compatriot. Azar had no time to even spare them a glance, as three more came upon her, long swords swinging out in front of them.

  "Give us the Great Weapon, and we'll make your death swift,” the middle one said in a heavily accented voice. Azar snarled at the man, and fired her gun. They all dodged the bullet, and advanced faster. Azar dropped the gun. It wasn't going to be helpful without the element of surprise. As soon as the gun landed at her feet, she threw a fire disc at the approaching soldiers. They weren’t expecting it, and it caught all three, the smell of burning flesh unnatural in the jungle. The fire wouldn’t stop burning until it consumed them, but Azar had no time to worry about that as another five came out of the undergrowth. They were screwed.

  Azar's gaze shot around to find an escape, but they were coming up the sides of them now, and she felt panic claw at her insides. They were trapped.

  "You have to step away. I’m going to change forms."

  She felt the solidness of Bast’s body move away from her, and she felt incredibly vulnerable for a second. The five Fae warriors were almost in hitting distance now. Azar heard Bast grunt in pain, and knew he had been hit, but couldn't turn from her attackers.

  Azar felt the fire consume her just as the first of the five attacked. His eyes widened with shock as he fell to his knees, an arrow in his back. The other four looked around, and four more arrows found their marks in eyeballs, necks and chests. Azar whirled around, and saw her attackers dropping like flies as more Fae poured from the woods and fought with the attacking Fae.

  Confusion permeated the clearing, and not just her own. Azar used that co
nfusion to spare a glance at Bast. He was on the ground with a dagger in his shoulder, but it didn't look life threatening, so she stood over Bast’s body, protecting it from the new Fae, who she had no idea if they were friend or foe. She completed the change to Ifrit, and she was a beautifully terrifying sight. The flame streaked wings spread out from her body like a fiery backdrop, every inch of her body alight.

  The skirmish was quickly over, the new Fae force easily outnumbering the group that attacked her and Bast. As the last of the originals fell, the new Fae laid their weapons at their feet, and bowed. If she was confused before, she felt like she was going crazy now. A tall blonde man, beautifully lean and muscled, his face too feminine for what she'd consider appealing, stepped forward and he had the undeniable presence of a leader.

  "My Goddess, we mean you no harm, but you must remove the dagger from your compatriot with great haste or I fear the effects of the dagger will be too advanced." Azar's face screwed up in confusion, but she looked down at Bast, finally noting the intricate design on the dagger poking out of his shoulder. It was old and it was a design she had studied over and over for the last few weeks. It was Posidagi, the Great Weapon that was lethal to the Jann. Panic hit Azar like a freight train, her flame going out instantly as she fell to her knees next to Bast.

  "No, no, no," she chanted as she pulled out the dagger and threw it away from Bast. "Baby, can you hear me?" Tears were blurring her vision, her hands going over the wound in his shoulder, where the skin around the wound was blackening quickly with necrosis. "You are going to be okay.” The tears streamed down her cheeks now, and Bast's moans of pain were getting louder as the necrosis ate its way through his body. Bast raised a hand and cupped her face, his thumb wiping away her tears.

  The pretty Fae man was at her side, looking down at Bast. "You must switch forms. If you are but air and smoke, the necrosis cannot spread. It is your only chance. Change!" he said urgently, and Bast’s body began to fade from view.

  She had never seen his transition from physical to air and smoke before, Bast had always assumed his human form when he was with her. Jann were known as the whirlwinds of the desert, air and smoke in their other form. Bast’s body become semitransparent when his eyes closed and his breath shuddered.

  Her slave cuffs fell from her wrists. It was too late.

  The only way the anadari cuffs could be removed is if her master died. As Bast's body disappeared from view, she fell back onto the ground and sobbed, trying to put the slave cuffs back on her wrists. She was too late.

  Bast was dead.

  Chapter 20

  Strong arms reached down and lifted her off the hard packed mud of the river bank and carried her towards the hut. Fae soldiers were dispersing back into the jungle and six more surrounded the makeshift building. Azar saw all this through red rimmed eyes.

  The wind had picked up, and leaf litter blew along the ground like tumbleweeds. The hair of the blonde captain tickled her face but she couldn't summon the will to brush it away. She couldn't summon the will to be anything but thoroughly devastated, even though she knew she should at least be wary of the newcomers. But she couldn't rouse enough emotion to even protest being carried like a child. All she could do was think of Bast, and the black death that ate through his body.

  As she thought his name, the wind picked up again, and she thought she could smell his unique scent upon the breeze. She knew her heart was breaking. She memorized that scent, locked it away in her mind as something to be cherished for the next hundred years. The Fae man who carried her deposited her gently on the stool, and two more guards came through to stand on the inside of the doors. She was either in a well-guarded safe-haven or a well-guarded prison.

  The thought snapped her out of her grief slightly. Bast would be appalled with her if she just fell to pieces. She sat up straighter and eyed the leader, who squatted opposite her.

  He looked like someone who had been leading an army for years; his face was ageless, perfectly free from creases and wrinkles, but he had several small scars littered around his face. He was definitely formidable, every nuance of his posture ready for battle at a moment’s notice, like a tiger that only appeared to be lazing. He was definitely Fae however, his ears were slightly pointed, his body loose limbed muscle. But it was the eyes that moved him from an ornately beautiful human to something supernatural; they were large in his thin face, and the irises filled them up, no whites could be seen at all, much like Jack’s.

  A particularly strong gust of wind knocked over a wooden cup on the table, and Azar unconsciously righted it. Slowly, the obvious filtered down into her grief stricken haze. There shouldn't be a breeze inside the hut. There shouldn’t be a wind that strong inside the jungle at all. Her heart raced at the possibility.

  "Bast?" she barely whispered it, her heart too fragile to hope for too much.

  As if I'd ever leave you, Jaanaman. Bast's voice ricocheted around her head, the feeling new and not particularly comfortable, but the most welcome sound she had ever heard.

  "You son of a bitch! I thought you were dead forever!" Her voice cracked at the end, and her rage was tinged with relief.

  You don't have to speak out loud to talk to me. If you do that back in civilization, the human police will take you to a nice place with padded walls and very thick doors. He was gently joking with her, trying to bring her out of her unnecessary grief. She didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry more. I think we should find out who these people are first. They certainly came to our aid, but what they are doing in the wilds of the Amazon is suspicious to say the least. This isn't exactly a huge tourist hot spot for the supernatural communities.

  Azar took a moment to breathe, to regain her equilibrium. Her adrenaline was pumping through her body still, making her edgy and tense. The blonde man remained perfectly still in his crouch, his gaze taking in the nuances of her face as she spoke to Bast with her mind. She cleared her throat as the tightness in her chest eased.

  "I'm sorry about that, I thought the worst." She didn't have to explain her tears to the man, but now she knew that Bast was alive, sort of, she felt awkward under the blonde man’s stare. "But thank you. For the rescue, I mean. I'm Azar."

  The man bowed his head, "I am Lorcan, the Black Prince of the Fae." Azar didn't know anything about the Fae social structure, and she kicked herself for not grilling Jack about it more.

  She bowed her head in what she assumed was a reasonably respectful manner, but the Prince held up a hand and shook his head.

  "Please, you need not bow to me. And if you will it, please call me Lorcan." Azar shrugged. She'd get the nuances of Fae etiquette another day. Lorcan's speech was heavily accented and far more archaic than Jack's.

  Ask him what he's doing in the jungle, Bast prodded impatiently.

  I'm getting there, don't rush me, she grumbled back.

  "As I said, Lorcan, thank you for your well timed rescue. But what I would really like to know is what you are doing in the jungles of the Amazon. I thought you guys were tethered to the soils of Europe, so you can understand my confusion when I see you standing before me, in the Amazon. With your feet firmly on the ground."

  "We were tracking your party, of course. This jungle is about as far from the Emerald Isle as a Fae can get. Many of us find it... distinctly uncomfortable. We are looking for the Green Man, the Heart of the World." Azar eyed him suspiciously. "I believe you'd like these returned as well." Lorcan indicated with his head, and one of the guards stepped forward and placed the dagger Posidagi and her slave cuffs on the table in front of her, before resuming his post. "I have urgent news for Jack, and we have tracked him from the woods of Canada to here. It has taken more time and resources than I would have liked." The last he said almost to himself.

  "When we found the Faery circle, we knew we were right behind you, but then your party split in two. My second in command and half my squadron followed one trail, and I followed yours." She couldn't tell if he was annoyed that he'd picked the w
rong path or not.

  Ask him what he needed to tell Jack.

  If you think I'm going to be your mouthpiece for the next fifty years, you are sadly mistaken. But she asked anyway.

  Lorcan regarded her shrewdly. "You are my goddess, so I guess the news purports just as much to yourself as to Jack."

  Azar almost choked on her own saliva. "Excuse me?"

  "You are of the Tuatha Dé Danann, are you not? When we found the Faery circle, we knew that two of the Tuatha had been within the circle. We have one who can scent the signatures in the remaining essence." Lorcan seemed to hesitate. "When we got close enough, he assured me that you were the one with the Tuatha Dé Danann blood."

  See, she gloated to Bast, I even smell special. To think, all you could smell was corn chips. The sound of his chuckle inside her mind warmed her to her very soul. The idea of a life without Bast had created a fissure in her heart, and she wasn’t sure it was completely mended yet.

  On the outside of her mind-meld with Bast, she was motioning Lorcan to continue. She wasn't really prepared for the man’s smile though. It lit up the darkened room like a supernova and Azar forgot how to breathe. He let out a small matching chuckle.

  "Your face when you are talking with your lover, it is quite comical. Your eyebrows are like small dancing worms." He chuckled again, wiggling his eyebrows so they danced on his forehead. "Sorry, there hasn’t been much comedy in my life of late.” He cleared his throat and attempted to regain his stoicism. "As I was saying, the news applies equally to you as to the Green Man. Do you know much of our society?"

  Azar politely shook her head.

  "Well, for several millennia we have been separated into two major courts, the Seelie Court and Unseelie Court. All manner of creatures come under the banner of the Seelie and Unseelie, but at the top of both food chains were the Fae. And the Fae worshiped Danu and her children, as was appropriate, believing them to be Gods amongst us. They fought off the previous inhabitants of the land, bound us to the soil of Europe and split us into two courts, of light and dark. I believe that they did so out of the best interest of the Earth, for when we first arrived, we were ravenous on the blood lust of victory.” His face grew pensive, the look in his eyes that faraway look of an academic. This guy was a double threat. If he could use his brain as well as he used his sword, the Djinn were in trouble. “We killed or took as slaves every indigenous race we encountered, including the Djinn. We would have conquered everything in our path as we did Europe and the Middle East if the Tuatha Dé Danann had not physically restrained us. But that is for a philosopher and theologian to debate.”