“What the hell does that have to do with—”
The sound of his voice was the last thing I needed to aim, and I cast a lockdown spell at him before he could finish the sentence. He flashed into visibility, standing there stiff as a board with his gun held out. And since it was a djinn spell, not earth magic, he couldn’t do a damned thing about it.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I finished his sentence as I strolled between the shelves toward him, not bothering to hide my fury. “I think maybe you can guess that now.”
He sputtered something incoherent and looked like he’d start ranting at me like some idiot supervillain who doesn’t know he’s beat. Unfortunately, lockdown spells didn’t keep people from talking — but I knew another spell that did. I gestured at him, a lip-sealing motion, and the sounds he was trying to make stopped.
“Come on, Guts,” I said as I grabbed the back of his jacket and dragged his stiff, unmoving body toward the center aisle. “You know, my girlfriend’s probably going to kill you for shooting me. I might not stop her, either.”
I kind of hated that word, girlfriend. Jazz was so much more to me than that, but I really didn’t know what else to call her.
One of these days, I’d work up the courage to ask her to marry me. And pray to whatever god felt like listening that she’d say yes.
Guts didn’t have anything to say, but I could see the fear dawning in his eyes. He didn’t know he’d hit me with that shot. And now that I’d told him, he was horrified that I was still walking and talking with a 9MM slug in me.
And speaking of that gun. I dropped him on the buckled floor of the main corridor, wrenched it from his frozen hand, and pointed it between his eyes. “You’re lucky it’s movie night, or I’d pull this trigger right now,” I said.
“Liar,” an unsteady voice behind me whispered.
I flinched a little, then turned to see Jazz and Ian standing there. “Okay, maybe I’m bluffing. But he doesn’t have to know that,” I said with a smirk.
“You’re bleeding.” The look in her eyes was part admiration, part fear, and part if-I-didn’t-love-you-I’d-kick-your-ass. “Like, all over the place.”
“It’s not that bad,” I said, even though it hurt like a mother. Unfortunately, I’d survived worse.
Ian walked past me, his gaze riveted to the hundred and thirty-ish pounds of Prime Frozen Asshole on the floor. “I believe I know where his power came from,” he said as he bent down, grabbed something that was around Guts’ wrist and yanked it off roughly. His eyes widened as he stared at whatever it was.
“Where did you get this?” he spat suddenly, kicking Guts’ inert form.
“Hey, whoa. The man can’t exactly defend himself,” I said, craning to look at the thing in Ian’s hand. “What is it, anyway?”
His lip curled as he spread his fingers, revealing a rough-carved stone figure about an inch tall, strung on a beaded bracelet. The beads looked like bone with strange, vaguely familiar symbols carved into them — and the stone figure was some kind of totem that looked like a wolf.
Right away, I understood why Ian was so furious. That was djinn writing. And the figure…
“Is that Dehbei?” I said hoarsely.
Ian shook his head once, still glaring at Guts. “No. I am not certain, but it may be from another clan. One that is … lost,” he said tightly. “Release him, thief. I will know how this human came to possess such an artifact.”
I shared a wary look with Jazz. At least the thing wasn’t Dehbei — the wolf clan, his clan, of which he was the sole surviving member. If it had been, he probably would’ve killed Guts on general principle. But any djinn artifact in the hands of a strange human was grounds for painful vengeance, as far as Ian was concerned.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” I said. “Maybe you’d better let me ask him—”
“Release him, or I will,” Ian snarled, and then relaxed his expression with effort. “I will take it easy on him,” he said reluctantly. “But I must know.”
“All right,” I said, and looked briefly at Guts. Even though he was still locked down, his eyes were huge and terrified. “I’d answer his question if I were you,” I told him. “Trust me, you don’t want to find out what his version of taking it easy feels like.”
With that, I gestured at him to undo the spells.
As soon as he was free, Guts half-collapsed and started dragging himself backwards along the destroyed floor, scuttling and flopping like a crab with three or four broken legs. “Museum!” he howled shrilly, trying to throw a hand up in front of his face while he backed away. It wasn’t really working too well. “Some kid had it, I guess he was gonna try and sell it to them, and I … I bought it off him,” he stammered.
“Bullshit. You stole it,” I said. “You’re a real piece of shit, stealing from kids. You know that, Robbie?” I said. “Guts, my ass. What the hell made you take that, anyway?”
Ian nudged me with a slight frown. “I believe you can answer that question yourself,” he said as he held the bracelet out. “Take it.”
I blinked at him, held a hand out, and he dropped it into my palm. The stone figure was surprisingly heavy, warm to the touch. And not just from Ian holding it. I could actually feel the warmth radiating from the stone in small waves.
I could sense it calling to me. To the earth magic.
“Holy shit,” I said softly, turning a raised eyebrow toward the slimeball still cowering on the floor. “This is how you were doing all those fun little tricks, isn’t it? Without this, you’re still a shitty scrap of nothing. Who steals from kids,” I added angrily.
Jazz stepped up beside me. She had her Luger in one hand and a gleaming pair of steel handcuffs in the other. “How about we leave this asshole here for the cops and bring this conversation home?” she said. “We’re missing movie night.”
“Good idea,” I said with a grin.
Miraculously, Ian concurred.
We cuffed Guts to a support beam, and I knocked him unconscious while Jazz put in a quick call to 911 to report someone breaking and entering, along with attempted theft and assault. She’d parked the car around the corner from the building, and I worked on healing my leg a little while I limped along next to her, with Ian trailing behind us.
When we got to the car, I held the bracelet out to Ian, but he shook his head. “Keep it,” he said with something that was almost a smile. “I may ask to have Akila examine it, but that particular artifact is attuned to your magic. Not mine.”
“Okay. That’s kind of weird,” I said as I slipped it on my wrist. It felt right there, somehow, which was even weirder. But I didn’t want to think about that for now. I’d done my good deed for the week, and I wanted to be home with my family.
This new mystery could wait until morning.
Chapter 2
Cyrus got to pick the movie for tonight, and he’d decided we were watching Aladdin — even though he knew exactly how much Ian hated the whole ‘genie’ thing. I wasn’t sure if he was being a smartass, or just a seven-year-old.
Probably both. He was my son, after all.
Cy was on the long couch between me and Jazz, clutching a bowl of popcorn that was bigger than him and giggling through the Prince Ali song. Ian and Akila occupied the love seat, and Lark had the recliner, with Tory sitting between his legs on the floor in front of him. The two of them almost always came over for movie nights. I’d offered to get Tory his own chair, but he’d said he wanted to cuddle.
Apparently what he meant was he wanted to use Lark’s lap for a pillow so he could fall asleep. He was halfway there already.
I grabbed a handful of popcorn and munched on a few pieces. “Hey, Lark. Thanks again for the tip-off about Guts,” I said. “You know, you could’ve come out with us if you wanted to. I don’t know how you feel about action these days, but—”
“He doesn’t do that stuff anymore,” Tory said without opening his eyes. “Right, adjo?”
Lark rol
led his eyes and flashed a fond, irritated smile. “That’s right. No more action for me,” he said, tossing a wink that Tory couldn’t see.
“From now on, he’s just the guy in the chair,” Tory said.
Lark grunted. “Yeah, let’s not put it like that, okay?”
“Oh, shit. I mean, shoot.” Tory lifted his head and grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s fine. I don’t blame you,” Lark said with a snort.
I smirked and shook my head. “Come on, man. That was a long time ago. Plus, it was an accident.”
“It was a curse,” Ian rumbled from the love seat.
“Oh, really,” Lark said. “I didn’t know somebody laid a dropping-people-off-buildings curse on Donatti.”
Ian’s brows drew together. “It was the ham’tari, and it was not—”
“Relax, my heart,” Akila said, laying a hand on his arm. “We are not at war with Lark.”
Tory snorted a laugh. “Seriously, Ian, you need to take Interpreting Sarcasm 101 or something,” he said. “They aren’t challenging each other to a duel. They’re just being assholes — er, jerks. Sorry. Tender ears and all.”
“It’s okay, Tory,” Cy said without looking away from the television. “Dad calls people assholes all the time.”
“Cyrus James!” Jazz blurted, struggling to hold back a laugh as the rest of the room practically erupted in them. “Your father may have a filthy mouth, but you don’t have to.”
He gave her a quick, bright smile. “Sorry, Mom.” He somehow managed to look like an angel and sound not sorry at all. “I meant jerks.”
More laughter made the rounds, and even Ian cracked a smile.
The truth was that, curse or not, I still felt bad about what happened to Lark. At least half of it was my fault. Around the time I’d met Ian, I hadn’t seen Lark for a few years. Not since we’d been on a job together and I’d accidently made him fall three stories. He’d been in a wheelchair when I went crawling back to him for help — and he’d also met a djinn of his own, though his and Tory’s relationship was a lot closer than mine and Ian’s.
At least we weren’t burdened with the ham’tari anymore. But honestly, sometimes I still felt like the world’s unluckiest thief.
“So how’d it go with Guts, anyway?” Lark’s tone suggested that he hadn’t meant to offend me. Because I might have put him in the wheelchair, but I’d been the one to get him out of it, too — with a hell of a lot of djinn magic I’d barely known how to use at the time. “I heard he was pulling some crazy jobs solo, but I didn’t believe it,” he said. “That man has about as much smarts as a bag of fleas.”
“Yeah, well, he’s had a little help lately,” I said. “From this.” I held the arm with the bracelet out toward them. Akila had checked it out as soon as we got back and said that it might’ve come from where Ian thought it did, but we still weren’t sure. “It’s some kind of power booster for earth magic.”
Tory leaned closer and sucked in a quick breath. “That’s djinn-made, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “We think so,” I said, noticing the way Jazz’s jaw line clenched as she pretended to be interested in the movie. She wasn’t exactly thrilled when we talked about magic in front of Cyrus, even though we’d already agreed that we wouldn’t leave him in the dark when it came to this stuff. Magic was in his blood, and ignoring it was a lot more likely to get him hurt or in trouble. So we kept it an open topic for discussion.
That didn’t mean she had to like it, as she kept reminding me frequently. We were still working on the balance between Cy’s abilities and making sure he had a normal, happy childhood.
“You think so?” Tory echoed with a smirk. “I mean, it’s obviously …” He gasped. “Is that a wolf totem?”
“It is not what you think,” Ian said, with only a little discomfort. “I believe that artifact may be of the Annukhai clan. But as the Annukhai have been lost for centuries, if they ever existed, there is no way to be certain.”
Lark suddenly got interested. “There’s a lost djinn clan? I thought there were only twelve.”
“There are legends of a thirteenth clan, from the north,” Ian said. “The clan of the white wolf. They were said to have been cousins of a sort to the Dehbei. But the lands where the Annukhai are rumored to have lived are inaccessible.”
Tory frowned. “You mean that so-called eternal storm along the shore of the Muhjaad Ocean?”
“The very same,” Akila said. “I am not certain about the Annukhai, but the storm does exist. I have been there to see it, with … the Council elders,” she finished, swallowing with a soft click.
I knew she’d been about to say my father, and didn’t out of respect for and mutual hatred with Ian. Her father, Kemosiri, wasn’t just the leader of the Bahari clan, which she and Tory belonged to. He was also the head of the Council, the djinn realm’s government — and the bastard who’d cursed Ian with the ham’tari.
The curse that kept piling painful, debilitating bad luck on the bearer, and would’ve led to agonizing death if Ian stopped following his orders.
We’d ended that a few years ago, but all of us still despised Kemosiri.
On the TV screen, Aladdin was showing Jasmine the world from a magic carpet ride, and Cy was a bit distracted. At his age, girls still had cooties and the mushy stuff bored him. “Hey, Mom, are you a princess like that Jasmine?” he said as he plowed a small hand into the popcorn bowl, digging around for the buttery ones. “You have the same name.”
Jazz laughed. “No, sweetheart. Not even close,” she said. “But Aunt Akila is a princess.”
“I know.” He smiled and leaned forward to stare at Akila almost critically, and then looked back at his mother. “Well, you’re both way prettier than Disney princesses,” he announced confidently, drawing a blushing smile from Akila and a grin from Jazz.
“Are you flirting with my wife, child?” Ian mock-growled.
“Ew, no. I don’t want a wife,” Cy said, wrinkling his nose. “What’s flirting?”
Jazz and I both chuckled. “Basically, it’s saying nice things to people you like,” I told him. “Don’t worry, though. Flirting with someone doesn’t mean you have to marry them.”
“Good.” He flopped back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Aren’t they done kissing yet?”
His plaintive, sighing observation set us all off again. For me, this was one of the best things about movie night. Cy was usually a lot more entertaining than whatever we were watching.
Soon after the movie got back to the good, non-kissing parts, I realized all that popcorn had made me thirsty. “I’m gonna grab a beer,” I said as I got up and circled the back of the couch. “Anybody want something to drink?”
“Yeah, I’ll take one of those,” Lark said. “Tory’s driving.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Since when does he have a license?”
“He doesn’t. He has a Jedi mind trick.”
“Oh, right,” I said with a smirk. I’d actually seen him do it once — with cops, no less. He’d do something with his voice, and whatever he said became their reality. Always meant to ask if he’d teach me that one, but I hadn’t got around to it yet. “Anyone else want something?”
Cy’s hand shot up. “Can I have a soda?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Can he, Mom?”
Jazz nodded. “Sure, as long as it’s one without caffeine. We’ve already had a late start tonight.”
“Got it.”
There were no other takers for drinks, so I headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. We had twelve-packs of Coke and Sprite to choose from. I grabbed a Sprite for Cy, and then hunted around a minute for the beer. Finally, I found the six-pack of Bud, or what was left of it. Only a single can was still attached to the plastic rings.
Crud. I’d forgotten about having a few last night while we were roasting marshmallows in the back yard. Now I had to be a good host and give this one to Lark. I wasn’t about to run out to the gas
station for more, either.
But that didn’t mean I had to go beer-less.
I set the soda and the Bud on the island counter, and grabbed myself a can of Coke. I’d gotten a lot better at using transformation magic in the five years since I’d met Ian and found out I was his descendent. Earth magic came easier for me, but I’d still been diligently practicing my djinn, even though it hurt to use. Mostly because Ian had insisted. This particular technique worked better on an object that already resembled the thing you wanted to change it into. It altered the perception of something, but not what it actually was — so I could turn a soda into something that would look, smell, and taste like a beer, but would never get me drunk.
Technically, djinn magic was supposed to work on need. I guessed I didn’t really need a beer, but I had no trouble convincing myself otherwise. The need thing was more like a guideline, anyway.
I pictured a can of beer as I held the Coke in one hand and passed my other hand over it. When I finished, I had a plain silver can with stark red letters spelling out BEER on it.
Maybe I wasn’t really concentrating all that hard. Oh, well. Close enough.
As the pain that always came with using djinn magic faded, I thought I heard someone whispering just behind me. I whirled around, but no one was there. “Cy?” I said, listening for footsteps. He always got a kick out of sneaking up invisible on me, especially since he couldn’t do it to his mother.
I didn’t hear any feet, or giggling, but the whisper repeated. This time I made it out.
“Focus through the stone.”
“Um. What?”
I turned in a slow circle, looking all around the kitchen, behind the island, under the table. I was definitely alone in here. And I also didn’t hear any more whispering — which I’d probably never heard in the first place, because those words didn’t make any sense. It’d been a long night, and I was just stressed.
Still, I waited another minute or so. When there were no more creepy voices whispering nonsense, I shrugged and went back to the living room so Ian could yell at me for using my magic for ‘parlor tricks.’
Master of Elements Page 2