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

by Grace McGinty

  “Nah, thanks though. I actually like my eyebrows.”

  “Do I need to bow?” Azar cocked an odd curtsy, and he just shook his head exhaustedly.

  “Not you, Az. Never you.”

  He looked tired and battered, and she had to resist the urge to pat him on the back or hug him or something. “So, what now?”

  He pulled himself up into a dignified position, completely serious now. “I’ll have to call a meeting of the elders, discuss our next move. I have an idea, but I wanted to run it by you first, to see where you and the Djinn might stand.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t speak for the Djinn, but shoot.”

  Aaron stood, and limped around the room. He hadn’t magically gotten Anton’s calm authority when he’d become Alpha, but he was young yet. Anton had been Alpha for decades.With time, Azar knew that Aaron would be one of the best Alphas the Weres had ever had. He was smart, fair and pragmatic. She had complete faith in him, now that the violent part was over.

  He stopped his pacing in front of her, and she had to look up into his face. Hmm, maybe he was taking to his position of power better than she thought.

  “I want to offer a place for you and your Fae here. If we are to survive this war, we need to band together. We’ve run and they found us, and nearly decimated all the packs in the Tri-State area in one hit. With you and the Fae here, we can be better defended, and they won’t find us such easy prey.”

  That raised an interesting question that had been playing on her mind ever since she arrived. “How did the Fae find you here? Oliver told me that no one outside the pack knew the location of the safe den, even him.”

  Aaron’s face hardened, making him look decades older and infinitely harder. “Becca.”

  She gaped. Becca. Of course, it had to be her.

  Becca had been Aaron’s ex-girlfriend, and the founder of the hate group Weres Against Djinn, who’d been responsible for the brutal deaths of several Djinn adolescents. She’d also wanted to stockpile the Great Weapons in an attempt to raise the wolves into a foolish war with the Djinn. But worst of all, in Azar’s opinion, she’d hurt Aaron at a time when he needed her the most, when he was low and mentally scarred from his ordeal with the rogue Ifrit. Becca was spiteful, but she didn’t think the girl was stupid.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Aaron sighed. “She thought that if we sided with the Fae, that we would be given exalted status and a ‘primo spot to watch the Djinn burn’. Her words, not mine. They humored her, promising her glory until they found out our position, and then set about systematically destroying us. Their leader said it was merely a display. They wanted to show the world how easy it was for them to eradicate us from the face of the planet.”

  She was shocked. Becca was misguided, but every misstep she took, she did with the future of the pack in mind. But this, this was sheer recklessness.

  “What to do about her betrayal is the first thing on the agenda for the meeting of the elders, but I’m going to push for her execution.”

  Azar jumped to her feet. “What?” She’d obviously misheard him.

  “Her selfish ambition cost twenty-five lives, Az, and there may be more if some of the more critically wounded don’t make it through the night. What am I supposed to do, give her a slap on the wrist? Just because she’s my ex-girlfriend? This is the nature of wolves. You don’t turn your back on a rabid wolf if you can put it down.”

  It was her turn to pace around now, trying to wrack her brain for an alternative. But deep down, the bloodthirsty part of Azar did think that Becca deserved it. So what if her intentions had been her own twisted version of noble? The road to hell was paved with good intentions.

  Jack squeezed her shoulder. “It is the way of the world, Azar. Balance needs to be restored.” He’d been silent up until now.

  “I thought you didn’t condone violence? Or do you get to make up the rules as you go? Would you have him start his time as Alpha with blood on his hands, as someone’s judge, jury and executioner?” Her voice had started to rise. She didn’t even like Becca, but Azar had been on the other side of the situation not so long ago, breaking rules for the sake of what she thought to be the greater good. So maybe she identified a little with Becca.

  But Aaron wouldn’t budge. “If you feel so passionately about it, you can come to the elders’ meeting and argue for her life. Because I can promise you, no one else will.”

  When she looked around the room, there were a lot of red-rimmed eyes on faces she didn’t know. That didn’t bode well for Becca. Both Jack and Donovan had excused themselves from the meeting, but Oliver sat beside her for support. Although he didn’t agree with what she was doing, he promised to have her back and he did. She was beginning to realize that perhaps she’d lost a little piece of her heart to the Werejaguar without even noticing. She curled her fingers in his under the table, and squeezed. He squeezed back, giving her a goofy grin the made her heart happy.

  The meeting was brought to order. All the wolves bowed their heads in deference to Aaron, and he looked momentarily shocked. Luckily no one else could see it but her. He looked panicked, but steeled his spine and nodded respectfully in return.

  “Thanks. I won’t keep you too long from your mourning, but we have to decide what we should do in the face of this attack. Also, there needs to be a decision made about what to do with the traitor.”

  There were angry murmurs around the table. Tao walked in, as if he were waiting for his curtain call, frog marching a very pale looking Becca.

  “Rebecca White, you are charged with treason against your pack, causing the death of twenty-five of your fellow wolves. Do you deny that you gave the enemy Fae our location?”

  Brow-beaten and mourning, the girl just shook her head, her fringe falling over her tear stained face.

  “I thought I was doing it for us, for the pack. We could be strong with an alliance with the Fae. Stronger than the Djinn.” The words came out broken.

  Dotty gave the girl a piercing look, one that would make a grown man wither. “Your arrogance and hatred nearly killed us all. There needs to be retribution for the loss of our fallen warriors. I put forward that she is executed immediately.”

  Normally amiable old Dotty was hewn from stone. In that moment, Azar better understood that brutality was a way of life within the Were community.

  “I second this punishment,” Aaron intoned. “Does anyone stand in defense of Rebecca White, formerly of the Sterling Forest Pack?” He looked directly at Azar, daring her to stand. Not one to back down from a challenge, she rose.

  “I stand in defense of Becca.”

  The girl in question whipped around to face her, her shock nearly comical. Well, it was a bit of an unusual turnabout.

  “Becca thought, foolishly I admit, that she was saving the pack from us big, bad Djinn, and securing your future. So she was wrong, but she isn’t the first to be caught unaware of the duplicitous nature of the Fae. The New York Adel compound stands as monument to the fact that most of them are slimy, lying sacks of shit.” Oliver cleared his throat, and raised his eyebrows at her. “Sorry. All I am saying is that there has to be an alternative to death for the girl. She didn’t do it maliciously, but she was blinded in her righteousness.”

  The face of an old man she didn’t know was twisted in fury. “My son is dead because of her!” he shouted. “She deserves to be dead too.”

  Dotty hushed the man. “If you feel so strongly that her life is to be preserved, then you can have her, Azar of the Ifrit. Because she is no longer pack; she gave up that right as soon as she whispered our whereabouts into the ears of our enemies.”

  Becca looked stricken, though Azar wasn’t sure if it was about being put into the care of a Djinn, or if it was because she’d been abnegated from the pack. Whatever. Azar’s company wasn’t as bad as having your head ripped off by Tao.

  “Fine. She can watch the kids in my care.”

  Another elder Azar didn’t know, a woman this time, s
poke up. “You would trust this betrayer with your young?” Her tone made it sound as if Azar were being foolish, and she was probably right.

  This got a rise out of Becca though. “I would never hurt a child!”

  Aaron’s hand slammed down on the polished conference table. “You almost got every pup in this den killed!” He took a deep calming breath. “All those in favor of abnegating the traitor Rebecca White from the pack, and giving her to Azar of the Ifrit say ‘aye’.”

  Becca looked around wildly. “Please, Aaron. There has to be something else. I don’t want to go with her.”

  Gee, that’s what you get for giving a person a second chance at life, Azar grumbled to herself. “Well, if the girl would prefer to be executed, don’t let me stop you.”

  Becca hung her head again, defeated.

  “Bring me the brand,” Aaron directed to Tao, who left the room and returned with a short branding iron in a small fire bucket.

  Azar felt ill. “Is this really necess-”

  Aaron silenced her with a glare. She bowed her head, a respect she would have afforded Anton if he’d given her that look. This was Aaron the Alpha, not Aaron, the kid she thought of like a younger brother. As Aaron pulled the brand out of the bucket, she noticed the metal warping slightly. It was silver, not iron. It would be incredibly painful, in both her forms. And it would be for life.

  Tao held Becca’s face in his hands, and she madly tried to scramble away, but it was useless against the brute strength of the big Sentinel.

  “Rebecca White, you have been abnegated from this pack, and every other pack in the continent of North America. For your traitorous acts, you will be forever marked with the letter A, informing any pack that may take pity on you that you betrayed your pack. From now on, you are dead to those who knew you.”

  With that, he pushed the brand into Becca’s cheek and her scream made Azar feel sick. The smell of burning flesh cloyed the back of Azar’s throat and she thought she was going to pass out. Oliver wrapped an arm around her waist, a silent show of support.

  The brand, a rough A, stood bright and swollen on Becca’s cheek, and Azar thought she could see the flash of tendons and muscle. Becca passed out from the pain and slumped to the floor.

  “She is your problem now. I will let you know the outcome of the other matter we discussed,” Aaron said and turned away from her. He was slightly grey, but he held himself erect. Azar could see the relief in his eyes, though. He would have executed her without hesitation, but deep down he was glad that it hadn’t come to that.

  His Alpha power mixed with the scent of burning flesh was getting under Azar’s skin. She needed to get out of here.

  Oliver bent over and picked up the prone form of Becca, and cradled her in his arms like an injured fawn.

  Azar bowed deeply to Aaron, as was appropriate to his station when they were surrounded by his wolves. Weakness shown toward Djinn insolence could be the end of what he was trying to achieve. “Yes, Alpha.”

  She gladly fled the room and the dens.

  Chapter 5

  Only you, Jaanaman, could end up with your archnemesis as a pet.

  “She’s hardly my archnemesis,” Azar grumbled, “more like an annoying pain in the ass. And she’s not my pet. I kind of wish she was, then I could just dump her at the Humane Society like you would a psychotic dog.”

  “Pets are for life, not just for Christmas,” Oliver teased, and she flipped him the bird.

  They’d brought Becca back to Oliver’s cabin, and tended to her cheek, the raw flesh in the grooves of the deep burn already trying to knit together. Oliver had told her to change to wolf, and Azar had shuddered when the bright red brand was still seared flesh even in her other form. It must have been so painful, but Becca held her jaw tight, never crying out. Azar could almost respect her for that.

  She’d sent the woman out to the Fae in the woods, because she had no idea what to do with her. The elder had been right; Becca probably couldn’t be trusted with Freya and Nevyn, despite her adamancy to the contrary. It wasn’t a risk she, or Donovan for that matter, was willing to take. So, she got to be camp cook for the Fae, and Lorcan had sworn to Azar that the girl would be respected.

  “After all, we may be loyal to our Goddess, but we are traitors to our kingdom too, are we not?”

  Azar would have argued the point, but Lorcan wasn’t entirely wrong either. It was all a matter of perception. Lorcan, the Black Prince of the Unseelie Fae adhered to the old beliefs. He believed that the Tuatha Dé Danann, like Jack, Nevyn and, to a far lesser degree, herself, were Gods that walked amongst the Fae. He believed that his Danu, the original Mother of the Earth, had created the Tuatha to maintain the balance of the world, and to control the feral urges for the Fae.

  However, the rulers of the Seelie and the Unseelie courts had banded together to destroy every person with Tuatha Dé Danann blood in them and any powerful sympathizers. This genocide had the desired result of untethering them from the bindings that kept them within Europe. They believed that with the Tuatha Dé Danann out of the way, they would be able to rise up and become new gods, and not the kind, benevolent variety either. It was all subjugation or obliteration with that lot. And so it was war, between the Djinn, Were and the Fae, and within their own ranks; the army of the Black Prince fighting for his gods, and the combined Courts fighting for power.

  Azar had once thought Djinn politics was complicated, but it was merely child’s play by comparison.

  Regardless, Becca was better out there where the Fae could keep an eye on her, and out of Azar’s hair. She didn’t think the girl was suddenly going to become her best friend because Azar saved her from execution. Any dreams Azar might have of braiding each other’s hair and chick flick movie marathons were just pipe dreams.

  She snorted at the thought; she had more important things on her plate than one self-obsessed werewolf. She reached out mentally to Bast.

  How are things with Killian? Bast had remained in the city, one because he wanted to personally keep an eye on the city, and secondly because, despite his non-corporeal form, he was still a senior member of the New York Adel, the most senior member after Killian, considering Joia had died in the attack and Mira was still in a coma.

  Her heart hurt when she thought about Joia. They hadn’t been friends by any stretch of the imagination, but Azar had respected the acerbic Sila, and she hadn’t deserved to die that way.

  Mira, however, had been the chief Adel in the North American region, respected and beloved, the quintessential iron hand in a velvet glove. Azar would definitely call Mira a friend. She hoped every day that Bast would contact her, and tell her that Mira had awoken from her long, unnatural sleep.

  Though Azar hated to be apart from him, she knew Bast had to remain in New York City and attend meetings and conferences with Killian, trying to devise a strong defensive strategy.

  Killian is at his wits end, and quite frankly, I don’t blame the man. There was definite annoyance in Bast’s voice. Even now, the powerful members of each race bicker and fight over who should be in control, rather than focusing on the guillotine that’s hanging over our heads. There’s even been some talk of surrendering to the Fae and negotiating terms before the war gets any more serious.

  Azar scoffed. The time for negotiations was over. It had exploded in fiery rubble the moment the Fae had broken their word and attacked early. Who could trust the word of a race who went back on their deals? Though they are rumored to be unable to lie, they were very creative with the truth.

  Out loud she said, “Aaron tells me that he is going to try and persuade the elders of the importance of the Were and Djinn joining forces.”

  Oliver growled a little, an odd feral sound coming out of her quintessential surfer boy. “He is Alpha now; he does not need to cajole the elders into getting what he wants. If he says jump, then the pack jumps.”

  That is true, but there is always a place for diplomacy in leadership. Being autocratic is a quick way to
get yourself overthrown.

  Oliver shrugged. “This is why jaguars are solitary. All the pack politics is enough to make a Were lose their fur prematurely. There’s only one rule for Jaguars. If you can catch it, you can kill it.”

  The Djinn are worse than the Were when it comes to politics. If they catch something, they’ll debate it to death before they can decide whether or not to kill it. But I believe that Killian would be open to an alliance. He had a lot of respect for Anton. Besides, we are not in any position to turn down allies.

  It was left unsaid that if they didn’t come up with a way to boost their numbers, or a cleverly constructed gambit, they were soon going to become Fae lapdogs.

  Oliver was making scrambled eggs in the kitchen, shirtless of course. Trying to keep clothes on that man was like trying to put a cat in carpetbag. It could be done, but it was difficult. In truth, Azar didn’t try too hard either. The guy was a joy to look at, all long, lean muscle and California sun tan.

  It was fortunate he was hot, because his cooking repertoire was limited to eggs and anything that came out of a can. But he’d successfully occupied the kids by teaching them to play some game called ‘Asshole’, though when Donovan had given him a sour look, he’d quickly amended the name to ‘Fibber’. The kids had been immersed in it for hours, dragging one or two of the household into a game every round, but most of the time it was Oliver. He was a lifesaver. Paranormal or not, kids were easily bored and whiney.

  There was a knock at the door, and she was surprised to see Lorcan walk in, with Becca in tow. Azar sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. What the hell had she done now?

  “Hey, what can I do for you?” She hoped they didn’t need her to collect more strays, because she was pretty much at her limit now.

  “It is bad to have someone at your back that you do not trust. I believe the werewolf has something that she needs to do. Something that she won’t feel whole again without doing.”