The Hunt: Complete Edition

by Anne Marsh

  The necklace doesn’t budge. Doesn’t come off. “Get it off,” she pleads.

  Screw the portal. Screw getting the Amun Ra the information he demands. I can’t stand here and watch my mate burn. Frantically, I pull at the clasp. My Cat roars inside, demanding I let the beast loose. I fight down the change, my fingers moving frantically over the metal. Miu’s skin flushes and darkens, pale blisters forming beneath the edge of the necklace.

  “Damn the Ifrits and damn Qaf.” My own fingers blistering, I shove the material of her cloak beneath the metal, buying us seconds. Vibrant light plays over, around us and I can hear voices hissing in the light stream. Ifrit voices. Miu screams once more, her entire body exploding with the channeled light, light pouring from her fingertips and eyes.

  A violent blast of light tears away the clearing—and then the door is here.

  With Miu’s legs still wrapped firmly around my waist, I step through.

  MIU

  “Where the hell did we just go?” I wouldn’t have believed it possible if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. One eensy step through the shimmering Doorway and I’m in another world.

  My first impression is of heat. Air shimmers and dances before my eyes. It’s dark here, too, but with a blood red moon high in the sky. The unfamiliar sphere is a violent spot of color in the inky darkness that gives the landscape a harsh, otherworldly glow. As if this place needs that. Bad enough that coming here is like stepping into a furnace.

  Carefully, Jafar sets me on my feet. The sand is so hot that I feel its heat through my shoes. I almost fall, but he thrusts out a hand to cup my elbow.

  “What is this place?” I’ve never seen such a hard world. Huge cliffs tower above us, holding the darker shadows of entranceways. The sands, littered with the fossilized remnants of another time, fall away at our feet.

  Jafar draws a pair of blades. “This is Qaf.”

  That doesn’t bode well. Qaf is where Ifrits come from.

  “How’d we end up here?” Something howls on the other side of the hill and it is definitely not happy.

  Jafar swears. “The necklace. I was right—it does open up a portal. And you activated it.”

  I look around again. This is the most threatening place I’ve ever been. It makes the temple look like a pleasure garden. “I didn’t sign up for this, Jafar. Why did you have to go through that Doorway?”

  “I had to find out if I was right. If the necklace would really do what I thought.”

  “And what about me? Don’t I get a vote? Maybe I didn’t feel like making a social call on these Ifrits of yours.”

  “If I’d given you a choice, would you have come with me?”

  My silence speaks volumes.

  “I thought not. You don’t get high marks for obedience, little femi.”

  “You could have at least given me some warning, Jafar,” I say. “You can’t expect me to jump without knowing the reason why.”

  He withdraws another blade, hands it to me. “There may not always be time for discussion, femi.”

  “Fine. If we’re in mortal peril, I vow to obey you first and ask questions later.”

  He nods. “Good. We’re in agreement then. And, for your information, I consider this entire trek to fall under the rubric of ‘mortal peril.’ ”

  “So this is Qaf. I thought it was a city.” I squint into the darkness. No walls. No buildings. No recognizable signs of life. Except—something moves on the face of the cliff. Black shadows slipping in and out. “Where do the Ifrits live?”

  “Caves, femi, carved out by ancient lava flows.”

  “Why do all the bad guys live inside rock?”

  He ignores the implication that the Guardians are bad guys, too. “Almost impregnable, that particular fortress is. No one sneaks in there.”

  “What are the shadows?”

  “Ifrits.” I don’t like the sound of that.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he says and I mentally agree. I certainly don’t see anything worth sticking around for. My feet burn through the thin leather of my boots.

  “Now that we know what the necklace does, I’m curious to find out why Lierr wants it so badly. What is he planning to do with a mazhykal artifact that opens Doorways between realms?”

  “Why do we care?” I grumble.

  “Because if he wants to travel to Qaf”—Jafar’s face tightens—“then I would be very interested in knowing why.”

  “Perhaps he’s an Ifrit.” I watch Jafar for a reaction.

  “I hope not.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the Guardians thought we would know if there were Ifrits roaming about our world.”

  “How would you know? Maybe you missed one.”

  “Femi, we’ve tracked and destroyed every Ifrit that made it through the Doorways. But what if we missed one? What if some of them have found a way to open new portals? Ones that aren’t guarded. What if this Lierr is an Ifrit?”

  “Then we’d have a very large problem on our hands.”

  “Exactly.” Jafar scans the sky. “But there’s an even larger one headed our way.”

  Dark shadows fill the air above us, diving with a low roar from the sky.

  “Ifrits,” he says grimly. “Thank Heqet I’ve got a bow.”

  Cursing, he begins pulling arrows from the quiver and notching his weapon.

  Is it my imagination or is the moon lower than it was? I mark its passage during the space of time it takes for two Ifrits to sail across the lower end of the range and empty their own bows on our position. Shit. Not only is the moon setting, but it sets faster than I ever believed possible.

  Arrows fly steadily over my head, picking off our attackers one at a time. Slow going but, I have to hand it to my Cat, we are, surprisingly, still alive.

  “Got to go,” I hiss.

  “Not yet.” Jafar reaches for another of those flaming arrows. Bully for him that he has mazhyk at his fingertips and can set those things on fire, but I’m not joking.

  “No,” I emphasize. “We really, really need to go now.” How to tell him that I can feel the mazhyk draining from me with each inch the red moon sinks below Qaf ’s horizon? It would serve him right if I just opened the Doorway and left his ass here.

  Beside me, Jafar takes aim. Again. His arrow sinks deep into a wing, sending feathers scattering over the smoking-hot sands. One of the larger Ifrits, forced to break off from the attack formation, circles back toward the cliff dwellings.

  “Got him.” Coolly, he selects his next target, lining up his shot.

  Lovely. I’ll congratulate him on his superb marksmanship while I explain that we’re going to be stuck here soon. For good. Unfortunately, I don’t get the impression that Qaf is particularly open to immigrants. There’s definitely a closed-border policy operating here.

  An Ifrit lands a short distance away in a whirl of air. Coughing on sand kicked up by the guy, I eye the newcomer uneasily. Jafar takes aim.

  The Ifrit carelessly fends off the arrow, raising a longsword with casual precision to block the mazhyk enhanced point. “No warm welcome?”

  I’m not going to like him.

  “Get away from him,” Jafar snaps. He doesn’t take his eyes from the newcomer. “Get behind me.”

  “I don’t think she cares for your brand of protection, Cat.” The Ifrit strolls casually forward. I can see the dark swirls of mazhyk moving with him; the Ifrit is warded heavily. “Perhaps she would like a swap?”

  I seriously consider kicking the Ifrit in the balls. Or trying to. I doubt those wards will just part and let me in. Think. I need options.

  I’ve never seen such a beautiful male before—or one who left me so bone-cold. There’s something chilling about the Ifrit’s eyes and his methodical assessment of my body, as if he’s weighing my capacity as a breeding machine for baby Ifrits. His eyes examine my hips, breasts, and ass, but never rise above my throat. His interest is clearly limited to certain parts.

  “Procreate with
me, female.” What a positive waste of gorgeous masculine skin. Stalking toward me, the creature is all smoldering sensuality—except for the eyes. The eyes are cold and hard, and it’s a good thing that I’m looking at those and not his ass.

  I ignore the Ifrit and turn to Jafar. “We’ve got to go.” Jafar looks as if he’s ready to pull his blades and take on the Ifrit hand to hand—and that won’t be a quick piece of business. What it would be like to really, truly be partners with Jafar? To stand by his side and have him stand by mine? Forever.

  Looking up, I realize there’s no time to indulge in fantasies. The moon is almost down. Taking a step closer to Jafar, I reach out and grab his arm. We touched when we went through the portal the first time. I suspect I need to keep physical contact with him this time, too. No way am I leaving my Cat behind in this awful place.

  Dragging Jafar’s blade down my palm, I force open the Doorway. We’ve discovered why so many covet the necklace: it can open powerful portals across realms—now we need to find out why Lierr demanded I steal a fast-track pass to Qaf in the first place. Why does he want to come here?

  The sooner I get back to Shympolsk, the better.

  I walk through the Doorway to find the lights of Shympolsk winking out as the night wanes and a bleary-eyed sun creeps over the horizon.

  “What the—” Jafar looks around at the city’s crowded buildings as if he has no idea where he’s landed. He probably doesn’t. One minute he was about to launch himself at a rabid Ifrit; the next he’s standing in a garbage-strewn alley.

  “I opened a Doorway,” I explain. “I was thinking of Shympolsk—guess that’s how it works.”

  “I thought you agreed I was calling the shots while we were in mortal peril.” Jafar gives me a fierce look, ignoring the curious glances of some nearby beggars.

  “Fine, you wanted to stay on Qaf permanently?” I ask sweetly. “You did notice that the moon was going down? It was open the Doorway right then, or kiss our asses good-bye. I don’t think that Ifrit was part of any welcoming committee.” I set off toward a seedy little inn where I’ve stayed from time to time. “Let’s get off the street,” I call back over my shoulder, leaving Jafar no choice but to follow me.

  Still, he’s clearly unshockable. He walks into the questionable little hostelry as if he owns the place. He orders the best room in the house and slaps down a pouch of stones I hadn’t even known he possessed.

  “We need to talk,” he says, taking the steps two at a time. The hallway is particularly unclean. It appears that someone gutted the last guest—and didn’t bother to clean up. Dark, rust-colored stains disfigure the walls and make climbing the stairs an unsavory endeavor.

  “Really? You mean we’re actually going to discuss our plan this time? Agree on it beforehand?”

  He shoots me an unrepentant look as we enter our room. It boasts a bed barely large enough for the two of us. Nothing more. “I suppose you think you’re just going to waltz up to Lierr and hand over the necklace?”

  “Something like that.” I sink down on the bed, exhausted. How long has it been since I slept or had anything to eat?

  “I told you, I’ll get your sister out, but we can’t let Lierr keep the necklace. Surely you can see how dangerous that would be.”

  “But we don’t even know where he’s holding Lore,” I argue. “He’ll have a dozen safeguards in place. You don’t think you’re the first person to think of stealing from him, do you? If I could just waltz in there and carry her off, he wouldn’t have much leverage over me.”

  “Other than your word to serve him.”

  “Right.” My word. I discarded honor years ago. That commodity is just too expensive for me to afford.

  “I’m a hunter,” he says, when I fail to elaborate. “I’ll find Lore.”

  “You’re familiar with the city? Spent loads of time there?” He shakes his head. I figured that would be the answer, so I continue, “Hard place to find someone, particularly if someone else doesn’t want her found.”

  “Trust me, okay?” I don’t, we both know it, and we both know that’s a problem.

  “Find my sister first,” I say.

  “Just trust me, damn it!” he bellows. “Have I ever given you any reason to distrust me?”

  “Didn’t tell me you were a Guardian when we met, did you?”

  “You didn’t ask,” he grits out.

  I shrug. “I’m sure that must make it all better. Oh, wait.” I pretend to consider. “No, not really. Kinda the opposite, kitty. Makes me wonder what else I didn’t ask that you neglected to tell me.”

  He shoves his hands through his hair. “Trust me now,” he growls. “Marching straight up to Lierr and handing over the necklace is a piece of monumental stupidity.”

  “Really.” I tap one nail against my lips while I pretend to think over his words. “No, really, I’m still not convinced. You see, I came up with my plan and I trust me. We’re back to the not-trusting-you business.”

  “How can I convince you to trust me?”

  “You want a homework assignment? We don’t have time for that.”

  “You don’t have time for that. You have a deadline for getting back to Lierr with your stolen goods. I have all the time in the world. More.” He smiles wolfishly. “There are advantages to being darn near immortal.”

  Yeah. I can see that.

  Would it really hurt to trust my Cat this one last time?

  Stupid. I shake my head. That’s as stupid as he claims taking the necklace to Lierr is.

  “Look. You need to make Lierr come to you. Draw him out of his city stronghold to neutral ground. Go straight in there to him, waving the necklace around, and he’s just going to pluck it right out of your fingers. No questions. No answers. You need leverage.”

  Cat has a point. “Safer bringing him out,” I muse, “than going in to him.”

  “Right,” he agrees cautiously. “Spin him a tale. Convince him you’ve got me on your tail and that he needs to come out and fetch the piece so you don’t lead the Guardians straight to his doorstep. You can use that scrying bowl to contact him.”

  So that’s what we do. The master thief looks as cool and implacable as ever when he appears in the bespelled water of the scrying bowl.

  “Have you brought the necklace?” are the first words out of his mouth. Not hello, how are you, or did you run into any trouble?

  “I’ve got it,” I answer, noting the greedy look that appears in his eyes. “What, no thank-you? It was damn hard to steal.”

  “Where are you?” he demands, ignoring my attempt at levity.

  “In Shympolsk.”

  “What are you waiting for, then? Bring it to me, or you know what will happen to your sister.”

  I know, all right. Lierr doesn’t bluff. He won’t hesitate to hurt Lore. “You’ll get your necklace.”

  A hot presence presses against my back and I just manage to force myself not to lean against Jafar’s hard body. Into the reassuring warmth. “The merck,” Lierr says. “He’s still with you?”

  “Yeah, Lierr, he is.” No choice but to brazen it out, convince Lierr that Jafar is in my employ and my control. “That first banshee you sent after me was a tad on the murderous side. And then there were all those Ifrits. Ate my men, Lierr. Chewed them up and left me a few thank-you bits. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Ifrits.” If I didn’t already know that nothing shocks Lierr, I’d have thought he looks vaguely surprised. And somewhat green, to boot.

  “Yeah, don’t tell me they’re news to you.” Or maybe they are. Was Lierr truly not aware of the bloodbath into which he’d dropped me? No, I decide. He knew. He just didn’t have the balls to admit it to me.

  “Ifrits, Lierr. You didn’t tell me the Ifrits would be after your pretty piece.” I raise my eyes to his. “They fight dirty.”

  He shrugs, his image rippling and distorting in the hazy mist above the bowl. “You’ve survived.”

  Barely. “At a cost, Lierr. Here I am, paying
for what you want.”

  “No,” he contradicts me gently. “You’re paying for what you want.” He shifts, and Lore’s face appears in the scry circle, Lierr’s hands cupping the soft curve of her cheeks.

  “Sunk to a new low?” I ask him, fighting back panic. We have a plan. It will work.

  My sister grunts and I swing my attention to the familiar, pale face. “Has he hurt you?” The answer is an obvious of course, but there are degrees of hurt. Entire worlds of hurt. Some things can be glossed over with time. Others? Not so much.

  “Lore.” I fight the urge to close my eyes and bang my head against the wall.

  “The baby sister.” He smiles, and it’s an expression of pure evil. Lore opens her mouth and he presses a finger against it. “No, darling. I think your contribution at this point is rather superfluous. You’ve sent a charming message to your sister.”

  “Lierr—”

  Lore stares at me from the scry circle, a tear streaking down her cheek, looking for all the world like the naive baby she is. But she’s my naïve baby sister and I want her back. Now.

  “Let her go, Lierr.”

  “Bring me the necklace, Miu.” Lierr presses a small, hard kiss against the corner of Lore’s beautiful mouth. “Don’t make me mad.”

  “Right, there’s just one problem. I’ve got Guardians tracking me. You ready to have them trail me right to your hidey-hole?”

  “Cats?” He looks doubtful for the first time. “I don’t think much of the friends you’ve picked up, Miu. Meet me in the tea garden where you used to work. Midnight.”

  The connection breaks and the surface of the bowl slowly flows back to perfectly ordinary water.

  JAFAR

  I take the bowl from Miu’s hands and gently set it back in its pouch.

  The small crinkle of skin between her eyebrows makes something in the region of my belly ache. No one told me that this mating business means hurt.

  “No worries, love,” I say, looking for the right words, the right promises. “He touches her, I’ll kill him.”