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

by Grace McGinty

  These people, these gallant, beautiful people, had done more for the Djinn than the Council had ever done. There was no way that she could ask them to defend a regime that killed babies because they didn’t have the birthmark they wanted. Her fists clenched, and her jaw flexed until it ached.

  “Fuck it. You owe the Djinn nothing. There’s a storm coming though, and you guys need to be prepared. If we lose, there will be a new world order, and it won’t be very forgiving.”

  Vincent laughed at her indignation. “We’d heard you were a bit of a straight talker. I’m glad the rumors were true. Let’s take a walk, I’ll show you our operations. It’ll help cool the blood.”

  She left behind her cold coffee and untouched cake, and followed Vincent out into the yard. Mavis and Malee stayed behind.

  Vincent showed her the stables, the barn and the silos. He led her through the stock yards that supplied the homestead with most of their produce needs, from Mavis’ kitchen garden to the flock of crazed chickens that ran at them like tiny little velociraptors.

  When she finally knew more than she’d ever need to know about the evils of mono crops on soil health and the corn industry, and the smell of cow poo was starting to cling to her clothes, Vincent turned to her.

  “It isn’t that we don’t want to help fight for our world. We do. We don’t want to be subjugated to the whims of the Fae any more than we want to be subject to the unbending ruthlessness of the Djinn. But we would need something in return, some kind of recognition, greater than a half-enforced assurance that we can’t be murdered in our sleep. There are thousands of less than half-bloods, Djinn with powers, albeit weak, who have to live life looking over their shoulder lest someone decide to end their life because of an old, outdated model of society. We do not need the servitude system anymore. The Djinn could make more than enough money in the human world to sustain us for hundreds of years. We do not need to pimp our young out to the highest bidder, forcing them to endure unforeseen horrors for a hundred years. It is barbaric. If we were to help, we would need recognition. A seat on the new Council. And the abolition of the servitude system.”

  Azar blinked, and blinked again. It wasn’t that their terms weren’t fair. Hell, the current regime was inhumane. What Vincent and Mavis were suggesting was right and just. Azar nodded.

  “I’ll put it to them. But I need to be able to sell it. What kind of force could you muster?”

  “If I asked, and with the right incentive, I could raise a militia of about a thousand or so. Most have powers, but aren’t very powerful. However, they have all been trained in hand to hand combat, though this isn’t the foe they thought they would be facing.”

  “I’ll try, Vincent. What you and Mavis are doing out here, well, you need recognition. I just, um, thank you,” she said, tripping over her words. He clapped her on the shoulder and smiled warmly.

  “You’re welcome here anytime.”

  Chapter 7

  Malee decided to stay at the farm with Vincent and Mavis. Azar had the feeling that the aging couple were more like parents than friends to Malee. Her sister was still grieving the loss of their father, so Azar could understand if she wanted to spend time out there in the tranquility of the farm, drinking tea and eating cake in Mavis’ kitchen under the warm, loving gaze of the woman herself.

  Azar headed back to the city to give the powers that be Vincent’s ultimatum and listen to their inevitable outrage over the proposal.

  She got to the turn off, one way taking her down the country roads back toward Oliver’s cabin in the woods, the other towards the city.

  She missed her little family. Spending time at a refuge for the unwanted had made her think of her own little troupe of misfits, and Oliver’s proposal. She could lie to everyone else, but she refused to lie to herself. She wanted what he offered. But there was no way she could approach the subject with Bast. Maybe when he had his body back, and he wouldn’t feel like she was replacing him. She sighed and turned off toward the city. She would go home tonight, maybe have another cookout and introduce Nevyn to S’mores.

  She rolled down the windows of the Mini and indulged in the fantasy that she was free. She tried to picture her life as it had been a year ago, when she wasn’t being hunted, or a slave to the Djinn. The latter was easier to imagine now that her Anadari bracelets had fallen off when Bast had come so close to death.

  On the open road, she wasn’t at war with an advanced race of warriors who wanted to rule them as malevolent overlords. Out here, right now, she could just be Azar the firefighter, pretending to be human. She missed the old days. Maybe if she turned west and kept driving, away from her responsibilities, she could outrun the war with the Fae, and keep running. She’d done it her whole life, so why not now? Did she feel any more loyalty to the Djinn than Mavis and Vincent? After all, she’d saved half of New York, and they’d given her fifty years of servitude.

  The answer was no. She didn’t owe them anything. But fifty years of servitude was better than a lifetime. And a lifetime of servitude was better than watching all her friends and family be killed or enslaved in the upcoming war.

  She decided to swing past her father’s house in Central Park. As Killian and Mira had been the only survivors of the attack, they’d decided that it was just as convenient to use it as a temporary hospital.

  Much to Azar’s surprise, she learned that Keeley, Killian’s twin, was one of the Djinn society’s most respected doctors. Actually, she wasn’t all that surprised. She seemed to come from a family of overachievers.

  She rang the doorbell and it was opened by a man she knew was one of her brothers, but was a stranger all the same. It was a testament to how far she had come emotionally that she wasn’t freaking out right now.

  When she’d learned that she had siblings, she’d been wary. When she’d discovered that she had ten of them, she’d freaked out. This one, she thought, was Roxx, the jewel thief. Internationally renowned jewel thief. Overachievers, no matter which side of the law they resided on.

  “I’m Azar. I just wanted to see Mira.”

  “I know who you are,” a laconic smile. “I’m Roxx.”

  “I know who you are,” she mimicked, and he laughed.

  “Guess you better come in. Keeley is upstairs doing Obs on the patient now.”

  Azar followed Roxx into the cage elevator. She catalogued his features. All her siblings were different, with one exception. They all had the long, straight nose of Saraf, their father; although some were straighter than others. Cy’s had been broken by Casper when they were boys, and had a small bump in the centre and then turned a little to the left. They’d been a wild bunch, apparently.

  Azar noticed that Roxx’s nose was also crooked. Actually, it zig-zagged down his face.

  “How’d you break your nose?”

  He cast her a sidelong look. “Got it smashed in by a Werebear who owns a teardrop ruby the size of a goose egg. Or I should say, he owned a teardrop ruby the size of a goose egg.” He grinned, making his nose screw up even more. He was gaunter than most of her other siblings, not as physically attractive. Small boned and pale, he brought to mind one of those wiry Amazonian monkeys that used to screech at her. He moved with a fluid agility though, more than any other Djinn she had seen. It was like he floated through a room, silent and sure. A ghost.

  “How long are you in town?”

  Roxx and his sister, Yasmin, lived in Europe. Ironically, she was a well-respected jeweler. Luckily no one had ever made the connection between the two of them in the human world. The Djinn didn’t mind; as long as Roxx didn’t steal their family jewels or get caught, who cared that he was stealing from the humans?

  “We’re here until we are no longer needed. There’s a strange vibe about New York at the moment, like it’s the epicenter of something big. I just feel like we’re needed here.”

  He was right. The fact that the Great Weapons had turned up in North America, that they had chosen to attack here first, made New York feel like
it was the eye of the storm. Maybe it was a misdirection, but then, maybe not. It hurt her brain to think about.

  They stepped out of the rickety elevator on the second level of the house where the guest wing was situated. Roxx gave her a little salute and wandered off down the hall.

  She paused out the front of the temporary hospital ward, peeking around the doorjamb. Keeley was shining a penlight into Mira’s eyes, and then writing notes.

  “Knock-knock?”

  Keeley looked up and smiled genuinely. Azar had worried about whether her family would resent her when she’d suddenly appeared in their lives after being absent for so long. She worried that their happy faces were really belying a distaste for her half-blood, and they just put on a polite front for their father.

  But with Keeley, she’d never had that worry. She was such a genuine person. Her concern was real, her laughter wasn’t forced, and there wasn’t an ounce of avarice in her. It actually made sense that she was a doctor. She had that kind of truthful earnestness.

  “Azar, it is so lovely to see you. Are you here to check on Mira?” Her tone was concerned, and she looked at Azar intently, probably judging her emotional wellbeing. Azar smiled, and gave the woman a kiss on the cheek.

  “I haven’t been yet. Mira is my friend; I should have come sooner.”

  Keeley squeezed her hand, and then her face was professional again. “I can’t find the cause of her unconscious state. I have ruled out head trauma, brain damage, internal damage, virus, bacterial infections and every poison I can think of.” She chewed on the tip of her pen, its purple cap already containing countless teeth marks.

  Azar sighed. She wasn’t a doctor, or even an EMT. She could do CPR, but unless someone was bleeding, she was beyond useless.

  Keeley picked up her notes and headed to the door. “I’ll leave you guys alone. Talk to her. I’m not sure if she can hear you, but the studies say that it has a positive impact on recovery.” She walked out and closed the door with a soft click behind her.

  Mira looked like Sleeping Beauty nestled in the clean, white, silk sheets of the bed. She didn’t look ill or injured, she just looked peaceful.

  Azar sat down on the antique chair beside the bed.

  “You know, you should probably wake up now, you’ve been lying around for long enough. The rest of us are working our butts off out here,” Azar laughed, but it sounded strange echoing around the room, only the beeping of the monitors breaking the silence.

  She sighed and rested her head against the backrest of the chair. “We could really use your help. The world has gone to shit and everyone is running around with no idea what to do. Well, Killian knows, but everyone refuses to listen to him. The Were have joined us, and a few Fae as well. I know you probably aren’t really feeling all that magnanimous toward the Fae at the moment, but my Fae aren't bad. Lorcan is actually quite a nice guy, for the Black Prince of the Unseelie Fae. I kind of adopted a kid too, Nevyn. He’s Fae as well. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it when you wake up.” Azar reached out and took Mira’s hand.

  A jolt like electricity ran up her arm, and she tore her hand away. What the fuck was that? Hesitantly, she reached out again with one finger, and again she got zapped.

  “Her sleep is unnatural.”

  The voice from across the room scared the crap out of her. She flew up out of the chair, but her foot tangled in the spindly legs of the probably priceless antique. She fell ungracefully onto her butt. She stared up at the person on the other side of the bed, and gaped.

  Danu. The Goddess of the Fae, Mother Earth, was standing over Mira’s bed. In New York City, without a Faery Circle, two floors above ground.

  “What-t are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy you’re here, because I totally am. Just surprised that’s all.”

  Take a deep breath, Azar. You sound like an idiot, she chastised herself.

  “You need this one. Her sleep is a virulent type of magic. The longer she is asleep, the less likely she’ll wake up. I did not give my children this magic for it to be used for such evil,” she spat out. A cross Danu was a scary Danu.

  “Uh, yeah. Keeley implied that there was no physical cause. Can you help her?” She didn’t want to hope, but if anyone could wake Mira, it would be Danu.

  “Yes. That’s why I’m here,” she said slowly, like she was speaking to a dumbass. Well, Azar wasn’t privy to the whims of Goddesses.

  Giving her a smile so warm and full of love that Azar forgot her irritation at once, she motioned to Mira. “I’m not really here, on this physical plane, so I need you to ground me. Put one hand on her forehead.”

  Azar placed her palm on Mira’s head, the silky strands tickling her palm. She had the irrational urge to yell, “Leave this child, Devil Man!” like in those old school exorcist movies, but resisted. Barely.

  “Please tell me that the next step doesn’t involve kissing the enchanted princess, because I’m pretty sure I’ll turn into a frog.” She was getting giddy in Danu’s presence, like she was drunk on cheap wine. Luckily, the Goddess just ignored her.

  Danu placed her own palm on Azar’s forehead, and started to hum. A low hum that whispered at the edges of her hearing, a beautiful tune that she forgot almost instantly.

  A rush of warmth ran through her body, down into her blood, and pumped through her veins like honey. Her palm on Mira’s forehead grew hot, and then it started to burn. That was a weird sensation for Azar, considering she’d never had a burn in her life. Except carpet burn.

  Soon, the warm, liquid feeling grew uncomfortable, as the pressure built in her veins. Sweat started to pour from her forehead, and Mira’s face grew a mottled shade of red.

  She wanted to pull away, but some instinct told her that if she did, Mira would never wake up. So, she held on tight, and soon Danu’s voice was thumping in her head, her hearing murky as if her ears were filled with blood.

  Finally, Danu took her hand away from her head. Azar collapsed to her knees.

  “Use it wisely,” she said. Danu glowed so brightly that Azar’s eyes began to water. She ran her wrist across her face, but when her tears cleared, Danu was gone. She stared at the corner where the Goddess had just been, confused, elated and exhausted.

  A scratchy cough came from behind her, and she whirled around.

  “Who was that?” Mira’s unused voice was croaky.

  “I’ll explain later. Let me get Keeley in here to check you over.” She stuck her head out the door and yelled. “KEELEY!”

  She must have sounded a little freaked out, because Keeley came sprinting down the hall, Roxx close behind her.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Keeley pushed into the room and stopped so abruptly that Roxx ploughed into her back.

  Mira was sitting up in bed, looking as if she’d just woken up from a nap rather than a ten-day coma.

  Keeley didn’t let her surprise keep her motionless for long. Taking in the woman before her, she was quickly checking Mira over, asking questions, and doing other checks.

  “A miracle, eh?” Roxx murmured beside her.

  She thought about the pain and the pleasure that Danu had pushed through her body. “Yeah, something like that.”

  Mira’s return to the land of the living spread quickly around the paranormal world. By the end of the day, every Djinn in both North and South America had breathed a long sigh of relief.

  Unlike Killian, who had been based in Europe for many decades, Mira was a fixture in the North American headquarters for over a century. She was like a balm for the worried masses.

  Keeley insisted that Mira remain in hospice for at least another week before she immersed herself in the world’s problems.

  Personally, Azar was just thankful she was okay. She didn’t think she could cope with going to another funeral this week.

  Bast had arrived quickly, and filled Mira in on his situation. Bast and Mira had been partners once, in their early days at the Adel. They were still close friends, though it had alwa
ys been platonic. Well, that’s what they told her anyway. She couldn’t see how that was possible; she might be biased, but Bast was so hot it hurt to look at him. Mira was also beautiful; her round face was angelic, her long blond hair perfect and she had lips that were a delicate cupid’s bow. They would have been one of those couples that were so perfect you just wanted to spew on their shoes.

  But Bast, for some reason that she really couldn’t comprehend, loved her. When he left Mira’s room, he found her up in the kitchen.

  I want to know how this happened.

  “That makes two of us. All I can tell you is that Danu came and somehow healed Mira. She just poofed out of the room with a cryptic message. I’m as confused as you.”

  He whirled around the room, the breeze from his path fluttering the flowers in their vases.

  What was the message, Jaanaman?

  Her toast popped and she slathered it with butter and strawberry jelly. “She said ‘use it wisely’. Whatever ‘it’ is.” She stuffed half a slice in her mouth and chewed. It felt like it had been forever since she’d eaten anything.

  Perhaps she meant Mira?

  Azar shrugged. She knew better than to guess the inner workings of a Goddess' mind. She was just a passenger in the wild ride that was her life. She was too hungry to be angry about that fact right now, but she knew the anger would come.

  She sat down at the large, slightly scarred kitchen table. It was the only piece of furniture in the whole house that didn’t look like it had come out of a magazine. It just looked loved. There were scratches, gouges, red wine stains, and something that looked like permanent marker across one corner. Several of her siblings had grown up in this house. The twins, Killian and Keeley, and also Darius, Cy and Casper. Malee had been raised here too.