He looked at her again. “West mentioned you had a traveling companion, but I didn’t know he was touched by an angel.” He chuckled at his own reference. “Notebooks, you say? Do you think you could bring them to me so I can copy them?”
She caressed the journal and nodded. “It’s the least I can do. You have no idea how hard it’s been to get the information I need. They kept telling me the answers would come, that my blood would tell me, but my blood has been irritatingly vague. Sometimes I do get answers, but most of the time…? Most of the time they only lead to more questions and leave me thinking they picked the wrong member of my family to be Fireborne.”
Dern shushed her. “You’ll know they didn’t when you read the keeper’s visions of you. Not that I believe anything is entirely predestined. West told you I’m not a fan of Fate. We all make choices. Even the Fireborne chooses whether to accept the power with a blood sacrifice. Has to invite the Mayet inside. But you can choose, every day, what kind of Fireborne you want to be. How you react to what you learn, and whether you’ll embrace or fight what you are. So yes, she saw you as Fireborne, but not even the Zhaman was certain of the outcome. Like I told you, only your choices can determine that.”
She placed her hand over her heart, feeling it pound with anxiety. Was this too good to be true? Why was he spending his life collecting this information, traveling in shadows and hanging out at construction sites? Who was he, really?
His large hand covered hers, the gift from the Zhaman twinkling on his pinky finger. “Your Veil has faded, but your Mayet’s Witness remains. I can see that you have doubts. I don’t blame you. Dealing with the Jinn and Niyr—not to mention the Enforcers—on a regular basis would make anyone skittish. None of them are the straightest of shooters. Ask for the truth here. Look inside and call to it now.”
She closed her eyes and focused on finding her own truth. The Mayet’s truth. Her forehead burned. Did the Zhaman really give all this information to Dern’s family?
Yes, the voice whispered. The keepers of the sand are given visions of the future so they may anticipate the Fireborne’s needs and find ways to aid her in maintaining peace. The Fireborne needed knowledge, so a path was created for her to gain access if she could not release her fears enough to find it on her own.
Will the incantation allow me to look into the past of the Mayet? To see what happened when the treaty was formed?
The Fireborne can look to the past as well as the future. The keeper’s child can guide you.
West would guide her. The past or future? Did that mean she could use it to find Joseph? Find Razia before he killed again?
Joseph is alive, but hidden from all until his time comes. Hidden to protect the Fireborne. Razia understands the sand well. The Mayet. He has been careful, hidden, but his impatient ambition to break the treaty and retrieve what was lost will force him to make alliances that could undo his work.
She took in the information about Razia, but all she could think about was her brother. Joseph was hidden to protect her? How did that do anything but distract her? She needed him here, beside her.
In the end, he will be at the Fireborne’s side.
The whispered response brought tears to her eyes. She would see him again. But in the end of what? Aziza was amazed at how clear the responses were now. Maybe the release she’d achieved at Underbridge had helped. If the incantation increased that clarity, she would finally have access to all her answers…and even Dern seemed to imply that if she had Adam’s vial, her ability could only improve. Where was it?
The answer is developing. You will be shown what you need.
Developing…Adam’s roll of film. Had he taken a picture of where he’d put the sand? Greg was supposed to pick the pictures up today. She had to get a look at them. She needed to get to that vial before anyone else did. She needed this to be all over. She wanted her baby brother back.
The Fireborne’s family is man. All worlds. The Mayet’s vessel must be protected or it could be taken away.
The Mayet’s vessel. She’d been right. She thought about her excessive passions, the thoughts in her head that weren’t her own. If she took in too much sand, too much power, would she stop being herself? Would the Mayet take over? Possess her the way Ram had possessed Greg and Penn when he’d introduced himself?
The Mayet seeks justice, craves knowledge and desires experience. You are more with the Mayet. You will be more. But there are those who wish to replace you with another.
Replace her? By killing her and making Joseph the Fireborne, or ending the line completely? It didn’t matter. The Jiniyr wouldn’t succeed as long as she found out where they would strike next.
Tonight they seek one you are meant to protect.
Tonight. West had been right. She had to go back to Underbridge.
Aziza opened her eyes, feeling reborn. “Thank you, Dern,” she said from the bottom of her heart. “I could kiss you.”
He stared unblinking in her direction.
“Dern?”
“Wha— Oh, I apologize.” He slapped his cheeks. “Think I fell asleep there for a minute. Did you get some answers? Trust me now?”
“Yes, and, better than that, I found a way to get answers, thanks to you and your collection. I’ve used Mayet’s Truth before, I just never…well, I don’t think I ever looked at it that way.”
“What way?”
“Like I have my own personal Magic 8 Ball in my head.”
He snorted. “See? Funny. When you fully contact her with the incantation, I hope you’ll remember to make notes.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He nodded “And now that you know I’m around, you can come and look through these books anytime you want. West will know how to find me. In fact, I insist, since I’ll be looking forward to your friend’s notebooks. I’ve got some ancient tablets full of ramblings from similar experiences, but there hasn’t been a Niyr-human exchange in centuries.”
She came around the table and gave him a spontaneous hug. “Dern, you’re my hero.”
Was he blushing? “Hush. You’re the Fireborne. The hero of this fairy tale. I’m just an old book collector. And your new biographer.”
Aziza smiled. “Welcome to my crazy life. And thank you again.”
“I’m up for some crazy.” He slipped on his bent glasses, eyes twinkling. “Take notes.”
She would. And she would thank her lucky stars that the Zhaman had sent West and Dern her way. Finally, she thought as she walked toward the pub door. Finally she would have answers, and all the ammunition she needed to fight Razia.
Chapter Ten
“I’m sorry, Chiye, what did you say?” Aziza asked. Between the loud music, her preoccupation with what she’d learned from Dern and Ram’s continued absence, she was having a hard time focusing this evening.
Chiye leaned over their table and repeated patiently, “Let’s have it.”
Aziza wrinkled her brow. “Have what?”
Her head tilted almost playfully, the long, ropy locks of her hair sliding over her shoulders. “The interrogation. You’re Greg’s best mate, yeah? While he and West are standing in line at the bar, you’ll want to know my intentions. Get more references. The works.” She paused, her eyes darkening. “You’ll want to know that I’m already over the moon for your Mr. Prophet.”
Oh. That. When she’d called Greg on her way home to tell him they had to go to Underbridge tonight, he hadn’t been chained to his computer at Penn’s flat. He’d been at West and Chiye’s. In fact, she and Greg hadn’t been out of each other’s company for more than a couple of hours in the last few days. Chiye had even come over to meet Penn and Hillary. Aziza had so much on her plate she’d hardly had the chance to tease Greg about his whirlwind romance. To get all the juicy details. To find out if Chiye was in fact a dominatrix.
She had a few details to share with him too. And Ram. Why wasn’t he here yet?
“I will?” Aziza’s lips quirked, pretending she wasn’t conc
erned. “Won’t I trust him to make good choices? Or leave him alone because he’s a grown man who knows what he’s doing more often than I do?”
Chiye snorted and shook her head. “No way. If anything, you’ll be more suspicious because you know how solid he is. And you’ll tell yourself he always knows what he’s doing, except when it comes to this. Because didn’t he hold a torch for you forever, one that isn’t quite out yet?”
Aziza’s eyes widened. “Did he tell you that?”
“It’s obvious to anyone with eyes.” She reached out and covered Aziza’s hand with her own, sending a jolt through her system. “Seeing you, getting to know you? I’d think he was an idiot, or mad, if he wasn’t a little bit in love with his best girl.”
“I think I like you.” Aziza grinned.
Chiye laughed. “Oh, you do. You definitely do. We’re too much alike for you not to. Everyone underestimates us, thinks we’re too young and helpless to know what we want or how to protect ourselves, don’t they? And they’re all wrong. We’re both orphan misfits who managed to find people to care for. People who care about us. We were supposed to meet, don’t you think?”
Yes. That’s exactly how it felt. The thread connecting her heart to Chiye Wyn’s had only gotten stronger when Aziza realized that she was one of the women she had to protect. When she realized how Chiye felt about Greg. “Over the moon,” she’d said. It was exactly the right thing to say. “Sisters, then?”
Chiye stood up on her stool and leaned over the table, kissing her on the cheek. She smelled like wild flowers. “Sisters,” she whispered in her ear.
Aziza was still reeling from the gesture when West and Greg arrived back at the table, their hands full of drinks. “Aziza Jane?”
“Yes, West?”
He looked over his shoulder. “You didn’t tell us you invited your detective boyfriend to our party tonight, and I’m guessing you didn’t tell him you were coming either, did you?”
Her… Brandon?
Greg swore.
Aziza put her hand on West’s back, trying to peer around him. “Why would you say that? Are you having a psychic vision?” One could only hope.
“Not unless by vision you mean twenty-twenty, because I’m seeing a mutant-sized man that fits the description of your current love interest parting the crowd like Moses did the sea…and he hasn’t taken his eyes off this table. He must see Greg.”
Or he’d caught her scent.
Great. The Jiniyr were coming for someone tonight. And now an Enforcer was coming for her.
“Motherfuckingshit,” she swore softly. When West snorted, letting her know he’d heard, she added, “Excuse me. And if he asks, I didn’t see him.”
“Think he’ll believe that?” West called after her, grinning as she ran around the table and headed back for the bathrooms like the coward she was. Maybe Shev would show up and pull her through the mirror so she wouldn’t have to face the music.
Days. She hadn’t seen him in days. She’d never responded to his messages, but she knew he was keeping tabs on her. There were Enforcers outside of Penn’s place day and night, and she was sure Hillary had told him she’d gone to meet his father without him.
Did he know something was going to happen tonight, or had someone told him about Ram having played with the deceased Stacy?
How would she stop herself from jumping into his arms, and did she even want to? How would she tell him about her night with Ram?
Her head was about to explode with questions when Brandon came into the bathroom. He swiftly held up the badge she knew all Enforcers had to use in case of inconvenient humans.
“Out,” he told the two women touching up their makeup in the mirror.
They reacted predictably, racing away in a flutter of nerves and panic, leaving Aziza alone with him. She leaned forward against the sink for a moment and then glanced at him over her shoulder. “Hey.”
“Hey?” He sounded calm and mildly curious.
Hell. Brandon was pissed.
“I’ve heard some men say that when women run from you, they might be trying to hide something,” he continued. “Hiding something, baby? Did the Alpha upset you? Did you not want me to see the bruises you must still be enjoying after your performance with Ram, or are you still avoiding me on principle because I lied?”
Shit. She turned to face him, knowing with a sudden clarity that after all these days and nights of worry there was only one thing she could do—tell him the truth. “I’m not hiding anything, Brandon. Your father did upset me, in more ways than I can possibly express, but I’ve agreed to go to his party tomorrow night in spite of it. I don’t have any bruises and I’ve been avoiding you because…” she shook her head and took a ragged breath, “…because I didn’t know what to say. I’ve been a little on edge and crazy. But you knew that when we met—who else but a crazy woman would proposition a man after he kidnapped her and locked her in an interrogation room? You can’t say you weren’t given clues.”
His silence went on for too long, making her nervous.
She swallowed. “Look, I know you’re here about the investigation, so you probably don’t want to talk about this now. It can wait.”
Brandon’s golden eyes narrowed dangerously. “No, I don’t think it can. Yes, I am here about the investigation. We got a tip from a possible witness and we’re following it up. But all I’ve wanted to do from the moment I left you the other night is talk about us. To be us.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “First you need to tell me why you’re here. And if you’re hiding the exile.”
Aziza frowned. “I had a sense that something was going to happen tonight and I wanted to protect the only potential human girlfriend I’ve had since I was twelve, who also happens to be the woman Greg has a thing for.” She crossed her arms defensively. “And Ram is here, somewhere. I was sitting with the people who brought him. Do you honestly believe I would do that? Hide a killer from you? Even if it was Ram, which I know it isn’t.”
Brandon leaned his back against the bathroom door, his gaze steady on hers. “I believe you are, on occasion, bloody stubborn-minded and crazy. I believe I’ve missed you so much these last few days it was hard to breathe. I believe every time I called and you didn’t answer, I wanted to put you back into that interrogation room until you forgave me for seeing you as my woman, instead of the Vessel. And I believe—I know—that you would do anything for the people you care about. Whether they were guilty or not.”
She opened her mouth to speak then shut it again, the tortured look in his eyes tearing her apart. What could she say to that?
He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her into his embrace. The heat of him instantly surrounded her and her body came alive. “The question is, can you care about someone and not trust them? Because I trust you.” He slid his arms around her, his large hands cupping the curve of her ass through her backless, vinyl minidress. “I trust you, even when I find you here, dressed in a way that demands to be noticed. Look at this dress, Aziza.”
He turned her around to face the mirror, studying the plunging, draped neckline and the hem that ended midthigh. He ran his fingers over her back. “I don’t see any marks at all.”
“They healed that night,” she murmured. “And for the record, I asked Ram to do it. My plan was to get to know the other girls who played here and find out what they knew.”
“Did it work?” She nodded and his rough fingers scraped across her arms, moving toward the skin the plunging neckline revealed. “And after your ruse was over, did you let him fuck you again?”
He’d always known how her powers had been initiated. He’d followed her into the garden and been there right after it happened, smelling Ram and sex on her skin. She knew it bothered him. “No.”
His fingers skimmed the hard tips of her nipples. “I trust you, Aziza. I believe you.”
It hurt to hear him say it. “You don’t. You’ve been smart not to up until now and you shouldn’t start. There are things you don’t know…�
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Brandon wasn’t looking into her eyes now. He was watching his fingers as they pulled the fabric of her dress apart until her breasts were bared to his gaze. “We have Enforcers placed here and at Mr. West’s townhouse in Soho. I know you and Greg spent the night with Ram and his friends after you let him whip you until you came onstage.”
Aziza gasped and her eyelids fluttered. He knew where West lived? “How thorough of you.”
In reply, he pinched her nipples between his fingers and squeezed hard. “I know you feel something for him. Something more than gratitude for saving your aunt’s life. I know you care about him.”
Aziza shivered, moaning at his masterful touch. “Brandon, wait. I have to tell you about that night. Oh God.” He would stop if she told him. She didn’t want him to stop, but she couldn’t be selfish.
His fingers tightened even more on her flesh, and the piercing sensation sent heat through her body. She had to resist her need for him. Had to be as honest with him as she was with Ram. Brandon cared about her. More than cared. He deserved to know everything she’d done. “We didn’t have sex that night but we both…oh…I’m so sorry.”
“How?” His voice was a growl as his hands left her breasts and went to the hem of her dress. He wrenched it up over her hips to her waist, revealing the black thong beneath. “Did you take him in your mouth, the way you did that night in the stables?”
She gasped. “You knew?”
Meeting her shocked gaze in the mirror, he snarled as he smacked one bare cheek then hooked a finger under the flimsy fabric of the thong and twisted. It ripped easily and he balled the now-useless material in his fist. “Don’t you know what I am yet, baby? What I can do? Answer me. How creative did you get this time? Did you suck the Jinn’s cock again? Or stroke him with your talented fingers? Did you let him push your breasts together and slide between them until he came?”
Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2 Page 19