by Shéa MacLeod
“Oh.” Gods I felt dumb.
Inigo looked like he was holding back a laugh. I glared at him.
“Do you even know what a shaman is?” Tommy placed two bowls full of some kind of stew in front of us. It smelled divine and my stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl.
“Um, no. I know Witches and Hunters and, you know, stuff like that. I’ve never met a shaman.” I felt like a freaking idiot admitting my lack of knowledge, but there was no point denying it. I’d already made a major faux pas with the herbs.
Tommy joined us at the table with his own bowl of stew. “There is power all around us. In the sun. The moon. The trees.”
This I knew. Kabita had drilled it into my head enough times.
“Anyone can draw on this power for their own purpose. A small amount to aid in the hunt, or for good luck. But only a shaman can draw large amounts of this power for the good of his or her people. To heal. To defend.”
It made sense. I knew from my own experience that anyone could draw power from the Universe. Some called it Reiki. Others, Prayer. Whatever. Energy was energy.
And then there were those who could channel enough energy to do some seriously scary shit. People like me. Though I wasn’t sure I counted, since my ability came from channelling weirdness.
“So, you’re a healer.” I took a bite of stew. It was divine.
“One of my talents, yes. That was the reason your father came to me.”
I paused mid-bite. “He came to you?”
Tommy chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t recall when it was. Time isn’t important. But he came to me. He was dying.”
“What do you mean? Trevor said he was murdered.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to scream in frustration. “Then how was he dying?”
“We are all dying.”
Dear gods, the man should win a medal for cryptic. “Listen, I just need to know about my father. And Trevor. Do you know why someone is trying to kill my brother? Why someone killed his friend? Can you tell me … ”
The old man waved a hand. “So many questions. All in due time. Eat your stew.”
He shut up after that and refused to answer a single question. My stomach was in knots and my fuse about to blow.
Patience, love. If we want answers, we have to let him give them to us in his own way. I felt Inigo’s soothing voice in my mind, but I was in no mood to be soothed, so I sent him a death glare. It didn’t faze him a bit. Sometimes it was a wonder he put up with me.
The rest of the meal passed in silence. Even the washing up was done quietly, Tommy Waheneka refused to speak until every dish was washed, dried, and put away. By the time we were done and gathered around the woodstove in the world’s most uncomfortable chairs, I was about ready to blow a gasket.
Tommy sat for the longest time, starring into the flame dancing in the window of the stove door. I was just about to start demanding again when his voice broke the silence. “I met your father on the day he died.”
Chapter Fourteen
I wondered if I looked as shell-shocked as I felt. “What?”
“That is how I was able to see him, of course,” Tommy said, as if that explained everything.
How he thought that explained anything, I did not know. I was about to tell him so in no uncertain terms when Inigo gently pre-empted my tirade. “Shamans are like me, Morgan. They can often see the spirits of the dead, the dying. Sometimes they can even communicate with them.”
I glanced over at Tommy who nodded in confirmation. My mind was a whirl. “So, you saw my father’s spirit when he was dying?”
“Yes. He came to me,” the old man said. He stared off into the distance so long I was afraid he wasn’t going to continue. “He was worried about his son. His daughter was safe, but his son … not so much. I promised to keep watch over the boy.”
My brain ticked over. “You had yourself tattooed so Trevor would know our father had sent you.”
“Yes. Your father showed me the symbol.”
Well, shit. Could this get any weirder? Oh, don’t answer that.
“Trevor said our father was murdered.”
Tommy shook his head. “We spoke of many things, but never of that.”
Damn. I’d hoped he could shed some light on my father’s death. “But, why you? Are you sure you’re not a Sentinel?”
He cracked a laugh at that. “Not a drop of Atlantean blood.” More staring off into the distance. “We spoke many times about things not of this physical world after he died. Interesting man, your father. Keen mind. Troubled soul. Although we never met in person, at least with both of us on this side, we became friends. When he had nowhere else to go, he came to me.” The old man shrugged.
I was about to open my mouth and ask why , when it hit me. Shamans protected their people. From the moment my father asked Tommy Waheneka to watch over my brother, Trevor became one of Tommy’s people. To guard. To protect.
“So, you’ve been watching over Trevor all this time.”
“Since he was fifteen years old.”
“And you still watch over him now.”
The shaman gave me a shrewd look. “As promised.”
“So, you can tell me why he was attacked the other night. And why you didn’t stop those assholes.”
“Morgan.” There was warning in Inigo’s voice.
I wasn’t surprised. I was walking dangerously close to being disrespectful. But if you wanted to get cliché about it, sometimes you gotta break some eggs. Or walk where angels fear to tread. Or something.
Tommy waved Inigo’s warning aside. “She’s her father’s daughter. Can’t help herself.” Those shrewd brown eyes bored into mine. “I can’t tell what I don’t know, but I do know this: It wasn’t Trevor Daly they were after.”
That got me. “What do you mean?”
He leaned back in his chair and gave me the silent treatment. Naturally I wanted to get all up in his face, but I had the oddest feeling he was testing me. Fine. I leaned back in my own chair with my arms crossed over my chest, sending Tommy a death glare.
We sat like that for what seemed like ages as I let my mind click through everything that happened. I squirmed first. Damn, but those chairs made a person’s butt sore. I had no idea how a man old as dirt could stand it. I made a mental note to buy nothing but cushy chairs.
Then something else hit me. “They could have killed Trevor. Easily. But they didn’t. Instead they, whoever ‘they’ are, sent a couple of bumbling rednecks after him. Why? I mean, they killed Agent Vega with a djinni, made good and sure he was dead. Obviously the two attacks are connected somehow.”
Tommy Waheneka gave me a look of approval, but remained silent. Obviously I was on to something. Though why he didn’t just tell me, I had no idea.
“Okay, so if they weren’t actually worried about killing Trevor and there was no obvious reason for beating him up, like say interrogation or something, there has to be a less obvious reason.” I mulled that over for awhile.
“Who was the first person Trevor called when he got to the hospital?” Tommy’s voice was peaceful, nonchalant.
“Me. But that’s natural, I’m his sister … ” my voice trailed off. I was his sister. I also worked with him. He was my SRA contact. My “handler” if you will. And I was the only Hunter within hundreds of miles, the first person the SRA would send even if I hadn’t come on my own.
“Me? They want me?”
A slight smile quirked the shaman’s lips. “Yes, Morgan. You.”
“But who are they? And why me?”
Tommy heaved himself out of his chair and went to tinker at his stove. “As to the who and why, I have no idea. The spirits are silent on the matter.”
Oh, shit. Spirits again. First Cordy and her damn guides or whatever, and now Tommy and his spirits. What was with the Other Side mucking in my business all the time?
“I don’t suppose you could, you know, give them a little jog?”
He chuckled. “Doesn’t
work like that.”
Of course not. “So now what?”
“No idea.” He turned from the stove, a silver pot in his hand. “Cappuccino?”
***
“Tommy, have you ever heard of the djinn?” It was such a mad, crazy question, but I supposed if anyone would know about them, Tommy would.
Bright eyes twinkled at me out of an ancient face. “Now you are asking the right questions.”
As he calmly sipped at his coffee, Tommy told me how the djinn appeared on tribal lands decades before the white man came. “They just appeared. Out of thin air,” Tommy waved his cappuccino cup around, nearly sloshing his drink over the side. “Some people believed they were gods we should worship, but my ancestor was a shaman like me. He knew better.”
“He knew what the djinn were?” I was completely enraptured by Tommy’s tale.
“Oh, yes, he knew. He had seen them in his visions and he knew they were powerful, but not without weakness. So,” Tommy shrugged, “he did what any good shaman would do.”
“What was that?” Inigo asked.
“Why, exploited that weakness, of course. He used the power of the earth and the sun and nature all around him to trap one of the most powerful of the djinn: A Marid. He forced it to admit that it had fled with its people to avoid being captured and enslaved by powerful magi.”
“What did your ancestor do then?”
“Let it go. With an oath to never again trouble our people.” Tommy drained the last of his cappuccino and began clearing up. “They vanished into the high desert, never to be heard from again.” He glanced over to me. “Until now.”
A djinni had killed Agent Vega. A djinni enslaved by powerful magic. Magic which had also bound together a nest of vampires and demons and had immolated a vamp from a distance. Talk about bad juju.
“Can you trap a djinni, Tommy?”
“A minor djinni, maybe,” he said, “but not a Marid. I am not nearly as powerful as my ancestor was. There is no human left who can trap a Marid. In fact, I know of only one creature alive today who can trap a Marid.”
“Which creature?”
“The Fairy Queen.”
I sighed. Who else? Eddie had been wrong, after all. “Of course it had to be the frigging Fairy Queen. I guess there’s only one thing to do.”
Tommy just smiled knowingly, but Inigo gave me a baffled look. “What is that?”
“We’re going into the desert to look for the djinn.”
“One thing I should tell you before you go,” Tommy spoke up.
I turned to look at the old man. “Yeah?”
“When you see your mother tonight, ask her about Alister Jones.”
Chapter Fifteen
I winced as the Mustang hit yet another pothole. Poor thing just wasn’t made for this kind of abuse.
“What the hell was that crack about my mother and Alister Jones?” It was a rhetorical question. Obviously, Inigo had no more of a clue than I did. But I couldn’t get my mind off Tommy’s last words. Why would my mother know Kabita’s father, the former leader of MI8 and a genocidal maniac?
I pulled the car off to the side of the poor excuse for a road and killed the engine. The potholes were getting too thick to dodge, and I didn’t want to break an axle.
“That’s it. We walk.”
Inigo raised an eyebrow. “It’s freezing cold out there. We have no idea where we’re going, and you want us to walk?”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
He shrugged and flashed a grin. “Let’s get going then.”
I was glad I’d brought my puffy winter coat. It was possibly the ugliest coat I’d ever seen, but it was warm. Two steps from the car and I wished I had a second one. The wind hit me, cutting through my jeans and chilling me to the bone.
Inigo moved closer and wrapped an arm around me. Suddenly it was as though the wind died down and the air around us warmed up. Except that the wind was definitely still blowing. The whipping branches of a stubby juniper tree proved that.
Have I mentioned how good it is to have a boyfriend with dragon magic?
The frozen ground crunched under our feet as we made our way toward … well, frankly, I had no idea. My plan didn’t go any further than hitting the desert and hoping for a miracle. According to Eddie, the djinn didn’t like humans intruding on their territory. I wasn’t sure pissing off a supernatural was a good idea, but it was the only one I had.
“You sure this is the right place?”
Inigo’s question grated on my nerves. “How would I know?” There was an edge of a snap to my voice. It wasn’t fair, but I was feeling frayed and I couldn’t help myself. “Sorry.” I glanced up at him. “I know I’m being a bitch. I’m just … ”
“Scared? Worried? Freaking out?”
I gave him a wry grin. “Something like that, yeah.” Trust Inigo to understand.
“Well,” he tugged me a little closer, “why don’t you try using your new superpower.”
“What?”
“Eddie said that the djinn were creatures of air. And you were able to see the one that killed Vega. Maybe you can sense them now.”
He had a point. I was sort of embarrassed I hadn’t thought of it. “Okay. I’ll give it a try.”
I stepped out from the circle of his arm, and was immediately overwhelmed with the icy cold of the wind. It whipped against me as though trying to throw me to the ground and bury me in cold. Suddenly I was sure it wasn’t a natural wind.
Instead of turning my back to it, which was probably the natural reaction, I faced it. Tears streamed down my face from the whip of the wind and my lips turned numb from the cold. Still, I faced it. And from within the depths of my soul, something uncoiled.
My own wind rushed out of me, its silver strands sparkling in the winter sunlight like so much glitter. Instead of the usual wispiness, it was like a giant wall, pushing against the other wind. Like two waves crashing together.
I had zero control over my Air. It just poured out of me, raging against that cold wall of “other” air. Blue and white sparks flew where the winds met. I staggered under the pressure. I could feel it like it was my own body beating against the icy wall.
Morgan! Morgan!
Inigo’s voice was faint. Distant. I wasn’t even sure if he was speaking aloud or in my head. He was a fuzzy shape outside the wall of wind.
Within the wall of wind, other voices called to me. Faces, haunted faces, begging me to join them. It was like that painting, The Scream, come to life.
I fell to my knees, the Air still pouring out of me. The edges of my vision were darkening. Like an old photo when it first catches fire. I knew without a doubt if I didn’t rein in the Air, it would kill me. Unfortunately, I no longer had the strength.
So I did the only thing I had left to do. I dove down into that place where my powers lived, and I opened the cage and let out the Fire.
Like opening the door to a blast furnace, the Fire flashed out of me. It wrapped around my own Air and then smashed into the icy-cold wall in front of me. For a second the other wall shivered, then it flashed into so much mist, spattering the ground with water droplets.
I hadn’t the strength the pull the Fire and Air back, but oddly enough they came anyway, winding their leisurely way into my body. Almost as though satisfied with a job well done.
It took a moment to realize Inigo was kneeling beside me, cradling me against his chest. I must have been worse off than I realized, because he sounded truly panicked.
“Here, allow me.” I didn’t recognize the new voice. It was female and a little breathy. It reminded me a bit of Marilyn Monroe.
I opened one eye. Dammit. She looked like Marilyn Monroe. I must have hit my head on something. Maybe I was hallucinating.
“Inigo, is Marilyn Monroe here?”
A laugh rumbled through his chest. “No, sweetie. I’m pretty sure she’s a djinni.”
“Yes,” the breathy voice said. “I am one of the djinn.”
“Then why
do you look like Marilyn Monroe?”
Her pretty face screwed up in a pout. “Is she not the epitome of human female beauty?”
“I wish.” I managed to get myself into a sitting position, but I still felt ridiculously weak. “But I’m afraid curves went out of fashion about forty years ago.”
She gave me a baffled look. “You humans are so strange.”
“Tell me about it.” With the help of Inigo and pseudo Marilyn, I managed to stagger to my feet. “Now who are you and why did you try and blast me with that wind?”
“Oh, it wasn’t me,” fake Marilyn assured me. “That’s just one of the barriers we put up ages ago to keep humans from wandering into our territory.”
I just stared at the djinni. Not only did she look like Marilyn right down to the glamorous curves and glossy blond hair, she was dressed like Marilyn in a skimpy white frock and strappy heels. She appeared completely unaffected by the cold. Holy hell.
“Um, sorry, who are you?”
“Oh, right,” she giggled and fluttered her hands around. “My name is Zipporah. But you can call me Zip. Everyone does.” She beamed at me like a young child who’d won first prize in a spelling bee.
A djinni named Zip. Right.
“Okay, Zip.” I stepped away from Inigo. I didn’t want to appear weak in front of the djinni. “So, what are you? Why are you here?”
“I told you. I’m a djinni.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Uh huh.”
“And I’m here to help you.” More beaming.
I didn’t trust that sunny smile for a split second.
I glanced over at Inigo. He shrugged so I turned back to Zip. “So, you know why we’re here?”
“Of course.”
Her voice was so ridiculously perky it was starting to get on my nerves. I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know?”
She pointed at my chest. Right to where the amulet lay under layers of clothing. “I can feel it. It calls to me.”
“Feel what?”
She gave me a coy look. “Don’t play that game with me, Morgan Bailey. I know you wear the lost amulet of Atlantis around your neck.”