Demon Hunt

by A. Blythe

  I sensed movement on the other side of the curtain. “Farah?"

  No response. The hair prickled on the back of my neck. Someone was on the other side of that curtain.

  I launched my fist without removing the curtain, taking the flimsy fabric with me, and prayed that there wasn't an old lady on the other side of it.

  "Half naked and punching me. Seems like old times."

  I yanked the curtain aside. I should’ve known.

  “It’s called a phone, Flynn,” I snapped. “You should try it sometime.”

  “Couldn’t risk it.” He grinned. “Nice bra, by the way. When did you start wearing lace?"

  I tore the purple top from the hanger and slipped it over my head. "What do you want?"

  “To see the rest of your undergarments, of course, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  I glared at him, which only served to widen his grin.

  "Purple looks good on you,” he said. “Brings out the color of your eyes.”

  I faced him, hands on hips. "Does Tessa know you’re tagging along on my shopping trip?" Tessa Montgomery was Flynn's human girlfriend. She was a sweet yoga instructor with flawless skin and the patience of a saint. A small part of me really, really hated her.

  Okay, maybe not that small.

  "I am not tagging along with you," he insisted. “I need you at my house.”

  “You should really try a new line, Flynn. That one hasn’t worked on me in years.” I pulled the purple top over my head and replaced it with my black tank top.

  “That’s not what I mean.” He dropped his voice. “There’s someone at my house to see you.”

  I froze. “Someone is looking for me?” Alarm bells rang in my head. No one was supposed to know my location. Not until the cuffs were off and I was able to defend myself again.

  “I can’t say any more,” he replied. “Just come.”

  I studied his earnest expression. Was I walking into an ambush? No, not possible. Flynn was a cheating jackass, but he’d never help my enemies find me. It wasn’t his style.

  “I need to find Farah first,” I said. “She’ll want to come, too.”

  “I figured. She’s over in lingerie.”

  Of course she was. It didn’t matter that she sold lingerie in Tops and Bottoms. She was always on the hunt for a new favorite piece.

  “Then let’s go,” I said.

  Flynn hesitated.

  “What’s wrong?” I demanded. “I thought this was a matter of urgency.”

  “You’re getting that, right?” Flynn asked, with a nod toward the purple top. “It looks good on you and I think it’s twenty-five percent off. They’re practically giving it away.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. We’ll swing by the cashier on the way out.”

  2

  The three of us drove in Farah’s sea glass pearl Prius over to Flynn’s house. Farah and Flynn were barely civil to each other during the best of times. Being crammed in a tiny car with the two of them was not the way I’d hoped to cap off a difficult day.

  “I heard you and Rocco broke up,” Flynn said from the backseat. His long legs were jammed against the back of the driver’s seat.

  My eyes darted to Farah. “Wait. What? You and Rocco broke up?”

  Farah ground her teeth. “Who told you that?”

  “You know the crime syndicate,” Flynn said, with a casual shrug. “They’re like your friendly neighborhood sewing circle. Except with guns.”

  Farah glared at him in the rearview mirror. “What exactly did you hear?”

  Flynn evaded her steely brown eyes, choosing to focus on the passing scenery. “That he’s devastated. Drowning himself in Chianti and his mother’s homemade linguini.”

  Farah drew a steadying breath.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you broke up?” I asked. I didn’t want to make this about me, but damn. We’d just spent a couple of hours together and she hadn’t breathed a word.

  “I was planning to,” Farah said softly. “I thought we’d discuss it over dinner after we bought a bunch of pretty things and I felt happier.” She raised her voice. “But somehow those plans went awry.”

  “Don’t blame me,” Flynn said. “I can’t help when a refugee shows up on my doorstep.”

  A refugee? Now my interest was well and truly piqued.

  “Is it true you’re dating someone else?” Flynn asked.

  “I’m always dating someone else,” Farah said. “That was the problem. Rocco wanted exclusivity. That’s not who I am.”

  “But you like him,” I said.

  “I like Doritos, too,” she said. “It doesn’t stop me from binging on Pringles. Or pretzels.”

  Point taken.

  Farah parallel parked the car like a champ and we spilled out onto the sidewalk.

  “Nice neighborhood,” Farah remarked, admiring the row of tasteful brownstones. “I never imagined you living in a place like this. I always pictured you somewhere more—” She groped for words. “Guttery.”

  Flynn climbed the steps and unlocked the front door. “Tessa and I are very happy here. There’s a block party next week for the chili cook-off. Everyone pitches in and hires a band to play. It’s nice.”

  Farah shook her head in disbelief. I knew exactly how she felt. This was not the Flynn we knew. Not even close. Tessa had worked some kind of miracle on him. I’d already mistaken the yogi for a mage once. I knew for a painful fact she was one hundred percent human.

  “And I suppose you’re entering the chili contest?” I said.

  “Of course. I took the silver medal last year, but I held back on the spices.”

  His tone told me he wouldn’t make that same mistake again this year.

  “I’m back,” he called, stepping into the hallway.

  “Is Tessa here?” I asked. She wouldn’t be happy to see me, not after I ruined her life by revealing her boyfriend was a djinni. A conversation he hadn’t been entirely ready to have.

  “No, thank the gods. She’s at the yoga studio. She would’ve freaked to see Katrien on our doorstep.”

  Katrien?

  We stepped inside the living room to see a young woman huddled under a lush Pottery Barn throw blanket. Her cheek sported a fading bruise and her shoes were practically falling apart on her feet. Had she walked here from California?

  “She needs a healer,” I said, rushing forward.

  “No healers,” Katrien said. “No one can know I am here.”

  “Then your first mistake was coming to Flynn,” Farah said, folding her arms across her chest. “He’s the worst gossip I know. Like a one-man sewing circle.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Except with guns.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Katrien said, her dark eyes round and serious. I recognized the look. Those eyes had witnessed horrible things.

  “How did you find me?” I asked.

  "I crossed paths with someone who said he knew you.” She sounded tired.

  "Name?" I prompted.

  "Rodrigo."

  Flynn and I exchanged surprised glances.

  “You were in Miami?" I asked.

  "No, in Dubai. It was the first place I went after I escaped."

  After she escaped. From where?

  Flynn grinned to himself. "M–Rod. I never thought I'd hear that name again." He squeezed my arm affectionately. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

  I elbowed him in the ribs. "Bad ones."

  "So Rodrigo gave you my location?" Flynn asked, rubbing his ribcage.

  Katrien nodded. “He said you returned to Philadelphia after you left the Academy. He said if anyone kept tabs on Alyse Winters, it would be you."

  “So M-Rod has you pegged as a stalker?” I queried. “Maybe he wasn't as dumb as I thought."

  “No,” Flynn said. “He just knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from me forever.”

  “Why are you looking for me?” I asked. “Did someone send you?” She certainly didn’t look like an assassin, but I knew as well as anyon
e that looks could be deceiving.

  Katrien clamped her mouth closed.

  “She won’t tell me anything,” Flynn said. “When she showed up, she asked for you and refused to say more until you got here.”

  “Well, I’m here now,” I said. “Would you two mind giving us privacy?”

  “Come on, Flynn,” Farah said, ushering him out of the room. “It’ll give me plenty of time to make fun of your house.”

  She’d have her work cut out for her. The house was pretty perfect, thanks to Tessa’s decorating skills.

  I stared at Katrien, waiting for her to talk. I wasn’t sure how to make her feel at ease. Sit next to her? Pace awkwardly in front of her? No, probably not that one.

  I opted to sit in the armchair adjacent to the couch. Not too close for comfort.

  “Okay, Katrien. It’s just you and me. What’s this about?”

  She shrugged off the blanket and let it fall behind her on the couch. The first thing I noticed was her wrist. The skin was red and raw and there were lashes on her arms. Some were older than others.

  “What happened to you?” My voice dropped to a whisper.

  “I was a captive of someone you are familiar with.” Her dark eyes glittered with hatred. “He calls himself Aladdin.”

  Aladdin was the target of my last operation in Monaco—the one that ended abruptly when I woke up in Philadelphia wearing life-changing copper cuffs. Although I’d come close, I’d never actually gotten the chance to meet Aladdin. “What makes you think I’m familiar with him?”

  Katrien lowered her gaze. “I heard your name. He spoke of you…” She shook her head. “Forgive me. I may have misunderstood. I thought you could help.” She moved to stand and winced from the effort.

  “No, no,” I told her. “Sit down. I do want to help you. I know about his harem. Are you telling me you were one of the girls?” Aladdin’s harem was really a collection of female djinn, trapped in their human forms and permanently attached to objects like pendants and stones they couldn’t escape. As a bound djinni, Katrien was likely forced to perform acts for the ‘master’ of the object—namely, Aladdin.

  She wiped away a stray tear and nodded.

  “I’d heard your name,” she continued. “That you had been investigating him. You were last seen in his suite at the hotel before you disappeared. When I escaped, I knew I had to find you.” She met my gaze. “That you would help me take Aladdin down once and for all.”

  I tipped back my head and sighed deeply. “I would love to help you, Katrien. With every fiber of my being.” I held up my cuffs. “But I can’t.”

  Katrien stared at the copper cuffs, recognition sinking in. “I do not understand. You have no magic?”

  “Afraid not. I disappeared for a reason. I was sent packing with a parting gift.”

  Katrien blinked in disbelief. “But…”

  “Trust me, I’m not a fan of them myself,” I told her. “They clash with everything I wear.” My voice softened. “Of all the people to help you take down Aladdin, why did you come looking for me?”

  “Because you have gotten the closest,” she replied. “And now you have a secret weapon you didn’t have before. Me. I was a strong Marid once and I will be again, once I have had proper time to recover.”

  I studied the cuffs on my wrists, wishing them away, but I knew it was no use. And I was no use to Katrien.

  “I’m sorry you came all this way,” I said. “Without my magic, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  Katrien’s expression hardened. “So your plan is to sit here and feel sorry for yourself?”

  “No, not exactly. It’s more complicated than that.” It didn’t seem necessary to give her the full details of my situation.

  She stood and glared at me. “You must work on reclaiming your magic because if I can track you here, then so can Aladdin or any of your enemies. Sooner or later, one of them will find you.”

  A wave of nausea rolled over me. “Do you think Aladdin will track you here?”

  “I suspect he will try. It is a matter of pride. He has never lost a prized possession before now.”

  And his prized possession led him straight to my doorstep. Fantastic.

  “We need to find a safe place for you to stay,” I said. And it wasn’t Flynn and Tessa’s house.

  “I will go wherever you deem necessary.” She bowed her head.

  “You don’t answer to me, Katrien. I’m not your master. No one is.” Anymore.

  As much as I hated to contact him voluntarily, I knew the best place for Katrien while she was here. I took out my phone and tapped the screen.

  “Who are you contacting?” she asked.

  “You’re a Marid like me.” The blue glow of her aura still shone brightly, despite her weakened state. The cuffs may have snuffed out my magic, but they couldn’t take away my Sight. “The best place for a Marid in the Mid-Atlantic Colony is the royal court.”

  “Then why are you not there?” Katrien asked suspiciously.

  “Prince Simdan and I have an understanding,” I said. We both understood that we loathed each other.

  “And I will be safe there?”

  “In the Fortress of Attitude? You bet.”

  Ever since the attempted coup at the Colony Games, Prince Simdan had beefed up security at court. There was no way we’d get in without an official escort, so I didn’t bother to try. I dialed the number I had for the royal court and requested assistance. When I told Farah my plan, she announced she was going to Viper Pit, to salvage her evening and soothe her injured heart.

  “See you in the morning then,” I said. Then I brought Katrien to the southwest corner of Flynn’s street to wait.

  “Why are we standing here?” Katrien asked.

  “It will only be a minute. The prince hates my guts, but his staff is punctual to a fault.”

  Sure enough, two of his minions arrived on foot. A second ago, the sidewalk was devoid of people and then—bam—two muscled gentlemen popped into existence.

  “Nice to see you both,” I said. “I have a friend with me this time. She’s a Marid seeking sanctuary in our colony.”

  “Are you able to travel without assistance?” one of the minions asked Katrien.

  “She’s too weak,” I said. I didn’t explain why. That information was on a need-to-know basis.

  “Very well then,” he said, and I prepared myself for the uncomfortable sensation of bending the light. As a djinni, it rocked. As a human, it was like being stuffed in a blender with the setting on high.

  When I dared to open my eyes, we were seated on a plush sofa in the grand lobby of the royal compound.

  “Alyse, are you well?” Katrien was beside me, a concerned expression on her bruised face.

  “I’m fine,” I said, fighting the urge to hurl. Although part of me would have enjoyed ruining one of Prince Simdan’s treasured rugs, I opted not to humiliate myself in front of the entire court.

  A young boy appeared in front of us. He wore a ridiculously ornate outfit with orange tassels. He couldn’t possibly spend any time in the human world. If he ventured into the city in that outfit, he’d be a target for bullies or worse.

  “Prince Simdan will see you now,” the boy said.

  We followed him into the prince’s office that looked like it was straight out of Ostentatious Homeowners’ Digest. As usual, Prince Simdan sat behind a large desk made entirely of marble.

  “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Fearless Leader.”

  His upper lip curled. He hated that I refused to pay him the respect his position demanded. Naturally, his hatred only served to fuel my enjoyment.

  “Surely my eyes and ears deceive me. It cannot possibly be Miss Alyse Winters. Have you finally reconsidered joining us at court?”

  “Afraid not. I have a friend in town that needs accommodation. This is Katrien.”

  His gaze drifted to Katrien. “A fellow Marid. It’s about time you kept appropriate company.” He seemed to notice th
e state of her for the first time. “Accommodation or protection?”

  “Both,” I said.

  He remained fixated on my companion. “Where have you come from, child?” It didn’t matter how old she was, Katrien was still a child in Prince Simdan’s eyes. We all were.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. Katrien was in no condition to play his game right now. Prince Simdan was an expert interrogator and Katrien was weak. He’d extract all the information he wanted from her inside of ten minutes.

  “I do not believe I was speaking to you, was I?” he asked, slowly and deliberately. His temper wasn’t volatile. It was vicious and exacting. He didn’t need to raise his voice to show his anger, a fact I knew intimately.

  “With all due respect,” I said, in an effort to soothe the civilized beast. “She’s tired and hungry and she needs a healer.”

  “She’s a Marid,” he sniffed. “She has no need for a healer.”

  He wasn’t wrong. My caste was chock full of quick healers. Still, I only knew of the injuries I could see. I noticed the way she favored her left side. I suspected there were other, less obvious injuries that she’d rather not mention.

  “I do not wish to see a healer,” Katrien said, raising her chin a fraction.

  Prince Simdan seemed to appreciate her Marida grit. He steepled his fingers, a familiar gesture that I despised. “She may have her choice of rooms and I shall have a tray sent down to her immediately.”

  “Don’t choose the green room,” I advised. “It has a nightmare-inducing painting over the bed.” I remembered it like it was yesterday. A horned beast ravaging an innocent maiden as she attempts to wash clothes in the river. The stuff a little girl’s nightmares are made of.

  “Miss Winters spent much of her childhood here, before she decided her caste was beneath her.”

  I exhaled loudly. “Let’s not retread old ground, my liege.” Because it’s muddy and we’ll both get stuck. “Admit it. You’re as happy not to have me underfoot as I am not to be underfoot.”

  Katrien eyed us both carefully, trying to dissect the dynamics between us. Good luck with that.