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

by Grace McGinty

  As if he knew he was in her thoughts, Ethan turned and bowed his head respectfully. She smiled and bowed her head in return. If they all survived this, she would have to get lessons on Councilor etiquette. Hell, maybe it was time they reassessed the stuffy social etiquette that permeated Djinn society like a plague.

  Everyone else stopped what they were doing, and gave her a slow clap. She blushed to her toes, and waved it away.

  “Please, that’s unnecessary. If anyone should get the praise its Lorcan and his Fae, and Roxx. Roxx was amazing. I just bumbled around and tried not to die.”

  Aaron gave her a smile. “Well, you did that perfectly. But you deserve the accolades, Az. We stand a chance now. We have a mountable defense, even if it is a bit of a gambit.”

  She scoffed. A bit of a gambit was a wild understatement. “Let’s hope it goes well, and history paints me as a revolutionary rather than the silly idiot who suggested releasing monsters on humanity.”

  She sat down on one of the office chairs, still exhausted. Maybe she should have had a nap before she came to debrief them. Her body still hummed from Donovan’s attentions.

  Killian sat down opposite her. “Report.”

  She ran through the events of the night, and then recounted what Quigley had told her. She’d get him and Lorcan in to give their own report when they’d recovered. There was an audible intake of breath when she detailed Lorcan’s punishment at the hands of his mother.

  “So, now we have a complete set of Great Weapons and discovered I can see through Cian’s glamor. Maybe I can see through all Fae glamor. He’s the first Fae I’ve ever met who even tried. Maybe I’ll get Jack or one of the other Fae to test the theory with me.”

  As if on cue, Jack walked into the room. He smiled and grabbed her hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

  “Uh, Azar. The Black Prince’s Fae are always glamored. If it wasn’t for the fact that they dressed as if it were a renaissance faire, I’d have a hard time telling them from all the Unbound that walk around the place,” Mira said, indicating the Fae soldier who walked in behind Jack.

  “What?” The Fae soldier Mira indicated, the big one whose name she still didn’t know, looked humanoid for sure, but you only had to take one good look at his face to know that he wasn’t even remotely human. Those big Fae eyes, slightly elongated ears and delicate strength definitely set them apart as other. “What about Jack?”

  Mira looked Jack over with slow appraisal, or maybe it was appreciation. “You remember when we watched that superhero movie a couple of months ago, and it had that really hot bad guy? What was his name? Tom someone? Jack is the dead spit of that guy.”

  Azar whirled to face the man in question. “He isn’t like a pretty pearlescent green to you guys?”

  Everyone shook their heads.

  “Huh. That’s strange.” Strange was a crazy understatement, but she would take strange over life altering any day. “We should test that later.” When they were alone, without ten people all staring at them.

  Jack just shrugged and dropped his glamor for the room. Mira let out a tiny squeak, but Azar didn’t think it was from alarm. Jack was glorious in his natural form, his face was serene and otherworldly, his skin shimmering with a muted glow that came from within. He was tall, and his body, while lithe, was strong and unmovable. He was larger than his Fae counterparts, broader across the shoulders. His large eyes sparkled with mirth at the responses from the other people in the room. It was hard to narrow down just one thing that was so compelling about Jack, but if she was pressed, she’d say that he radiated life. It flowed from him like the ebbing of the sea. The fury and the beauty.

  “Well, if we are all done with the Fae party tricks, let’s get back to work, shall we?” Killian asked.

  She rolled her eyes in his direction and whispered to Mira, “What a slave driver, right?” Mira gave her an equally stern look. “What? Too soon?”

  Killian had all the Djinn historians looking into the best way to use the Great Weapons to release the original Djinn. They were dusting off ancient tomes that had been hidden away in vaults for centuries, reading and rereading any tall tales or folk stories about the original Djinn and their sudden disappearance from the Earth.

  So far, they’d discovered relatively little considering the original Djinn, and even the Great Weapons, had played such a huge part in their history. Azar had her theories of course, and most of them centered on the Fae. Even now, the Djinn ignored a valuable resource that was sleeping in the woods right outside the den door. The Great Weapons were Fae made, it was the Fae that conquered the Djinn and enslaved them the first-time round, and it would stand to reason that they would be able to fill in the gaps. Still, the Djinn historians pretended that they didn’t even exist.

  Well, she would remedy that, if she had to drag one of those prissy little historians out of the library, tie them up and make them listen to Jack. She'd definitely do that, after she slept for like an hour. Or maybe a month. Maybe she’d sleep through the whole war, if she were lucky.

  Chapter 18

  Killian entrusted her with the location of the room holding the Great Weapons, because it was also the temporary location of the Djinn library. On the off chance, and it was a very outside chance, that the Fae hadn’t been only trying to steal the Great Weapons from the vault when they attacked the Adel compound, everything had been moved to the dens.

  She smiled at the guard outside the door, who bowed low and murmured “Councilor”, before holding the door open for her. She strode in and a huge pair of brown eyes looked up from a desk that had been placed in the center of the room, right below a large hanging light. The historian was wearing reading glasses, which was innocuous considering that Djinn had preternaturally good eyesight.

  “Can I help you?” Her voice was unexpectedly sultry, although nearly everything else about her was stereotypically bookish. She had wavy brown hair, cut to her shoulders. A heart shaped face held eyes that were way too big for her face, almost Fae big.

  “What’s with the glasses?” Azar couldn’t help but ask.

  “Excuse me?” The woman looked confused, and she stood, the office chair rolling back until it hit the wall.

  “Sorry, I’m Azar. I’ve come to take you on a research trip.”

  “Azar, like the Unbound Councilor?" Her face lit up like she’d just been given a shiny new toy. “Do you think you have time to sit down and tell me how it happened?”

  Now it was Azar’s turn to look confused. “How what happened?”

  “Everything. From your birth until right now. It needs to be recorded. You’ve affected some of the greatest changes in Djinn recorded history. It has to be recorded,” she repeated fervently.

  Azar shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. “Uh, sure. Not right now, though.”

  “Okay, fine. Later. But you have to tell it to me okay? Not to that old bastard, Euston. He thinks just because he is the most experienced historian that he gets to do all the big histories. But I think that’s bullshit. I mean, have you ever read one of his histories? It’s like reading the back of a cereal box. Boring. They just get filed away to gather dust. I like to inject some of the passion of the moment into my recounts. I mean, who said that they had to be as dry as old fruitcake? Right?”

  She was looking at Azar intently, her face alight with the passion she just spoke of, and it completely transformed her. No one would think she was a mousey little historian if they just talked to her for five minutes.

  “Uh, sure. My story is all yours.” The historian skipped on the spot, and Azar couldn’t help but smile. “But on two conditions.”

  She stopped her skipping and looked at Azar shrewdly.

  “Number one, you have to come with me and talk to The Green Man. I promise he doesn’t bite.”

  The woman frowned, but nodded. “What’s number two?”

  “You tell me your name, so I can tell Euston who gets my history if he ever asks for it.”

  The woman let out a l
augh, an endearing sound that was short and sharp honks.

  “I’m Stacia. Suck it Euston, you stodgy old fool.” With that, she picked up her notepad and pen, and indicated the doorway. “Alright, let’s go meet the Green Man.”

  Azar was surprised how easy it was to get Stacia to agree. She seemed ravenous for knowledge though. It was a wonder she hadn’t sought Jack out herself.

  They walked in companionable silence down the unused section of halls, and then out into the main thoroughfare, where men and women rushed around, everyone trying to keep active even though they were basically just sitting on their hands waiting for the fighting to commence.

  Nevyn and Freya ran out of a tunnel and directly in front of her. Azar’s hand shot out and collared the back of Freya’s shirt.

  “Hey, you two. What are you up to? Staying out of mischief I hope?” They looked at each other quickly, which was never a good sign.

  “Of course, Az,” Freya said. She noted Nevyn’s carefully neutral expression. Fae couldn’t lie, after all, but Freya had no such qualms. She wanted to laugh.

  “This is Stacia, a historian. This is Nevyn, Rightful Heir to the Golden Throne of the Seelie Fae. And this is Freya.”

  Stacia looked ecstatic. “Oh my goodness. The first Unbound and the rescued Fae Prince. Right here. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” She shook their hands enthusiastically.

  Nevyn smiled politely. “Hello, Historian Stacia. Your heart and soul are very pure for an adult.”

  Stacia blinked. “Uh, thank you?”

  “That’s a real compliment, trust me,” Azar told her, before turning to the children. “I’m going to see Jack and Lorcan, if you two would like to come?”

  They skipped around with excitement, and raced ahead of them. As soon as Lorcan had awoken, he’d insisted on being moved back to the woods with his men. No one had argued.

  “Do you think they’d let me scribe their stories too?”

  Azar thought about it, then shrugged. “Nevyn is his own boss, you should ask him. But remember, he’s older and wiser than he looks. You’d have to ask Donovan about Freya though, and he’ll likely say no. Donovan isn’t someone to trifle with, and he is very, very protective of his daughter.”

  Stacia paled a little at the mention of Donovan, but then, most Djinn paled at the mention of the Shaitan. But she knew that deep inside that scary exterior was a man who loved his daughter and might, one day, love Azar too. She needed to see him. She needed to see them all. Maybe she could persuade them all to come over and watch a movie. Everything was always so urgent, they’d lost those special moments they needed to just be happy.

  They left the dens and walked across the clearing, smiling and waving occasionally to people who were sparring in the practice ring, or jogging, or one of the multitudes of other tasks that kept an army busy enough so it didn’t implode.

  They strode past the tree line and up to the large campfire, ringed by large, smooth rocks that looked like polished quartz. Stacia looked around the empty campsite, her intelligent brown eyes taking in everything. However, when Lorcan dropped down from a tree, his men falling down around them like autumn leaves, the poor woman’s mouth swung open and stayed there. It was a pretty impressive sight.

  Azar tutted at Lorcan. “Should you be jumping out of trees like that, considering you nearly bled out on my favorite slave outfit less than forty-eight hours ago?”

  He gave her one of those gleaming grins and lifted his shirt, showing row after row of perfectly healed scars. Visible silver streaks littered his beautiful pale skin, over each well-formed ab, and down the lean V of his oblique. Stacia gave an audible swallow.

  Azar gave the woman a knowing grin. “Lorcan, this is Stacia, a Djinn historian. We are looking for Jack. Actually, Lorcan may know something also. Perhaps he could fill in some of our blanks regarding the weapons?”

  Lorcan shrugged. “It is doubtful that I have any information that isn’t already in your written histories. The Great Weapons had been lost for centuries by the time I was born. All I know are the same urban legends as you; that each weapon is targeted to kill one race of Djinn, that they were created by Brandr, that they acted like Anadari bracelets for the original Djinn…”

  “Wait, what?” Stacia interrupted. “You’re saying that it’s the weapons that keep them locked away?”

  Now it was Lorcan’s turn to look confused. “Of course, what did the Djinn think was keeping them trapped in the Inbetween?”

  “We call it Hell,” Azar corrected.

  “Having read your version of Hell, I have to say it’s a pretty true account of the Inbetween. The space between worlds is an inhospitable environment for even the strongest of creatures.”

  Stacia began pacing around the fire, chewing on the end of her pencil, Lorcan’s men instinctively moving out of her path.

  “So, if the Great Weapons were destroyed, permanently, then what? The Originals just start running around again?”

  “Woah, we need to be able to put them back again,” Azar argued. “The genies definitely need to go back into the bottle when we're done.”

  Lorcan shrugged. “That was always the general assumption. The original Djinn were put away because they were animals, like all Djinn. We were wrong, of course. We are the animals.” His eyes clouded with sights long ago seen but never forgotten. She patted him on the shoulder, the tan fabric of his tunic soft as doe skin under her hands.

  “We are all predators, trampling through this world without care. Neither you, nor I, is an exempt to the circle of life. In order to survive, we must be animals.”

  “She is right. To maintain life, there must be balance. The spider must consume the fly for the world to turn.” Jack melted from the trees.

  Azar rolled her eyes. “I’m nearly certain that you stand out in the shadows waiting for the perfect moment to make a dramatic, yet poignant, entrance,” she griped as her eyes ran over him like a woman who was starving.

  Jack laughed heartily, and turned toward Stacia.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met?” He put out a hand for her to shake, but she just stood there a little dumbfounded. Azar nudged her with her elbow.

  “Er, hi. Stacia, uh, I mean my name is Stacia.” She placed her palm in his, and then looked on like a dumbfounded spectator as he turned it over, kissing the delicate skin on the back of her hand.

  Azar raised her eyebrows and looked around at the bemused expressions of the group. She leaned toward Stacia.

  “Does he look green to you?”

  Stacia nodded slowly, her lips still parted and the tops of her cheekbones flushed pink.

  “No glamor?”

  Jack shook his head. “I heard you tell the Prince that she is a historian. I thought she would like a true account of my appearance.”

  Stacia was still nodding slowly, but Azar wasn’t sure if she’d heard anything that Jack had said. “You might want to tone it down a little, otherwise the account of this moment is going to read like a weird erotic novel.”

  Acquiescing, Jack closed his eyes and Azar felt the tingle of magic brush against her skin, but nothing visibly changed for her. However, Stacia’s eyes bugged out.

  “Is your human glamor George Clooney or something?” She would have given her last dollar to see what had put that expression on Stacia’s previously slack face.

  Stacia seemed to shake herself out of whatever estrogen-induced trance she’d been in. “No, he looks like the love child of Steve McQueen and James Dean.”

  Azar waggled her eyebrows at them both. Stacia flushed bright red. “I like classic human cinema. Don’t judge me. Let’s get back to the purpose of the visit. Besides, there’s children present.”

  Azar had forgotten about Nevyn and Freya, who were busy trying to scale the trees under the watchful eyes of Hemlock. Nevyn was a natural, but Freya had trouble getting more than a few feet up the tall oak trees.

  Nevyn turned at his name, and scowled adorably. “I’m fifty-six.”

>   Stacia grimaced and muttered an apology and something that sounded like a complaint about the immortal faces of the Fae.

  “We need any information you can give us on the internment of the original Djinn. Lorcan says that the Great Weapons act like Anadari bracelets, keeping the Original Fae trapped in Hell,” Stacia was back to being all business.

  “The Inbetween,” Lorcan corrected. “Hell is a human construct.”

  Stacia nodded in acquiescence.

  Jack stroked his chin thoughtfully, in a very human gesture. Azar briefly wondered if spending so much time with such a seething mass of humanity was starting to rub off on him.

  “This is true, to a degree. But not. The Anadari bracelets are a mild replica of the Great Weapons. I met Brandr once. He was a Fae with a closed-minded sense of right and wrong; everything was very black and white. When the Djinn started to amass to defend themselves against the conquering horde of the Fae, they did so without care for man, woman or child. They came in and slaughtered whole settlements of Fae, in defense of their own land and liberty, but Brandr didn’t see it like that. He saw dead Fae, and set his mind to the task of protecting his people. So he created the Great Weapons, studying the strengths and weaknesses of each of the races and targeting them specifically. He tested it on prisoners of war, and when every single one of them died, he gave the weapons to the Royals, who carved a bloody swath through the opposing army. When they reached one of the Original Djinn, who were bigger, more powerful elementals, the Royal Prince, I can’t remember which one, stabbed Balraka with it, expecting him to die. Unfortunately, Balraka was momentarily stunned by the weapon. Within two minutes, he was on his feet, bathing the field with the Prince’s blood.” He paused, probably for dramatic effect. Azar was beginning to notice that Jack was a bit of a showman when he wanted to be. She shifted a little closer to him, until their arms touched. The overwhelming sense of rightness soon followed, and she held back a sigh. Jack looked down at her, his large eyes soft. He lifted a hand, as if to touch her, but dropped it.