See a penny, pick it up, all day long you’ll have good luck. Adam had made them recite the rhyme. He’d also suggested that so much money was dangerous to just leave laying around. They’d need to find a good place to hide it.
Look inside.
Aziza opened the jar and let the coins press against her fingers as she pushed her hands in, searching. “This is crazy,” she muttered. “Why would he send—”
She wrapped her fingers around what felt like a small container. The kind Adam had placed his rolls of film in for safekeeping. Not a vial? She pulled it out and studied it with her brows furrowed.
West leaned forward. “Open it, Aziza Jane.”
She took off the small gray lid and peered inside. Not film. Glittering black sand. “How?”
“Greg told me your aunt mentioned the pennies after Chiye told her about Adam’s pictures,” West answered. “Penn said Adam had mailed her the jar from Colorado, and told her they were her pennies and she needed to keep them safe. He made her promise. She’s kept them exactly like this since he died, never opening the jar or looking inside.”
It didn’t make sense. It was just like Tarik’s box. Tarik had sent it to Penn’s, planning on all of them coming to live there after he returned from Bahrain. And now Adam had done the same thing with something she couldn’t help but think was meant for her.
She looked up at West and he cupped her face with his warm hand, using his thumb to wipe a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen off her cheek. “Makes you want to argue with Dern for the side of destiny, doesn’t it? Makes you believe this was meant to be.”
It did. Adam and Tarik had both left something for her in England. With Penn. Aziza was always going to come here. This was always going to happen. But what she did next was her choice.
She noticed a small Swiss Army knife on the table and bit her lip. No glass vial to crush accidentally or on purpose. This was her own blood ritual. Her heart started to race with adrenaline. With it she would find answers. Find Razia. Stop all this death. She picked up the knife and opened the blade, hesitating for a moment before slicing it across her palm.
“Damn,” she said, wincing as the blood rose up to the surface and overflowed onto her skin. She reached for the canister of sand and cupped her hand, pouring the dark grains into her palm as West burned the incense.
She was dizzy. Woozy. She stood and walked closer to the fire as she watched the sand accept her sacrifice, accept her oath in blood and disappear under her skin. Her other palm was burning and she could smell the charring flesh of the brand. The third vial. Only Joseph’s left.
There’s more. There is always more.
But she wouldn’t need any more than that. Not for what she had to do.
Aziza looked into the fire and saw what she was looking for. A woman bathed in flames in the desert, a few steps away from her. The Mayet in human form. She’d changed, the way Te had changed. The Mayet had taken on a few of Aziza’s features.
They were closer. Merging.
A giant wave of water appeared behind the Mayet and Aziza pointed and called out a warning. “What is that?”
“The river of time the keeper navigates,” she answered softly. “A gift from me to protect both your lines. But the river is vast, and she cannot always see where it will lead.”
It washed over them and then it was no longer a wave of water, but light. She saw a boy who looked like West drawing a picture of her in his bedroom. The Mayet pointed in the other direction and she saw a man in an old-fashioned suit taking notes—a man who looked like he could be Dern’s twin. The same height, the same dark-red hair. His great-grandfather?
“You can see the past,” the Mayet assured her, pointing toward a wet alley where a younger Chiye huddled, her knees bent to her chest, crying as she let the rain wash the blood off of her hands.
What had happened to her? Aziza wanted to go to her. Protect her. This Chiye looked terrified. Crazed. How had that girl become the loving, upbeat woman in Greg’s bed?
“Choice and destiny. Both are true. You were always destined to be Fireborne, but your choices, your heart will shape us both.”
The Mayet pointed again and Aziza was in a small living room scattered with colorful silk pillows. The house where her mother and father had lived until she was almost two years old.
Zayid Ammu was swinging the young Aziza in the air, swaying with her to a song playing on an old-fashioned phonograph.
Come Josephine in my flying machine
Going up she goes
Up she goes
Balance yourself like a bird on a beam
In the air she goes
There she goes
“Do you promise, Papa?”
Zayid chuckled gently. “I promise, Aziza. Whether the new baby on the way is a boy or girl, they will be named after this song. Josephine if it’s a girl and Joseph if it’s a boy.”
Aziza watched her younger self in awe, unable to believe she’d forgotten this moment.
“I hope she’s a girl, Papa. Then she can play with me.”
Zayid shook his head. “That doesn’t matter, Aziza. Either way, when the baby is old enough, I will take you both to where I found this.” He dipped the child and she squealed, not seeing what Aziza did, the unusually shaped amulet he was pointing to on the table beside them. It looked like a piece of it was missing. Like it was supposed to fit into something.
“We will have an adventure, Aziza,” he promised. “And when we do, you will understand how precious you are.”
Aziza looked away from the memory, turning back to the Mayet. “Why are you showing me this? Will it tell me what I need to know about the blood ritual? About soul casting? I need to stop the murders.”
“You have.”
She shook her head in frustration. “I didn’t do anything. I haven’t stopped anything. Four girls died and Chiye could be in danger next.”
“Do not let them use your heart against you,” the Mayet repeated again. “Do not let them take the power away from you. Do not trade it to save a single life.”
The Mayet held out her palm, glittering with black sand, and blew the grains toward Aziza. As she blinked the woman disappeared. Joseph was standing in her place.
“Joseph…” she reached for him, “…I’ve been looking for you. Where are you? Tell me what I need to do to find you.”
Joseph smiled sadly and shook his head. “You need to listen. To see the truth.”
Suddenly Aziza was standing in the corner of a dimly lit room, watching the Alpha gesturing emphatically to a group of men in faded robes. “I ordered his death,” he insisted. “What does one exile matter when that bitch humiliated me in front of my family? My people. You told me she could be manipulated.”
The Jiniyr. The Alpha was talking to the Jiniyr about her. This wasn’t the past. This was happening now.
“The fault lies with you, young Billy.” Razia’s voice stung her ears. The aging punk rocker was now dressed more like a monk, the tattoo on his bald head and his demon-black eyes the only clues that he was not what he appeared. “We played our roles to perfection. A little blood and a few bodies and she danced well enough to our tune. Shame you couldn’t have been more convincing, that your son couldn’t have been more obedient, but it isn’t our problem. Perhaps we made a mistake all those years ago, allowing you to be the Alpha instead of your brother.”
She watched her family’s killer, unable to move as he walked across the large room. Its walls were made of a strange sort of marble unlike any she’d ever seen, the floors etched with symbols that curved around a circle stained with blood. She could sense the pain. Hear the echoes of agonized cries. This was where the other women had been taken, tortured and killed.
A woman stood in the middle, her back to them as Razia smiled at the swearing Alpha.
“Hah,” William Nash laughed, but it was obvious he was nervous. “Your posed, blood-drained dolls didn’t close the deal. My people made that happen with the slit of
a single throat. Forced her to take the Jinn’s side and allowed me to order his death. What did you do?”
“Everything else.” Razia shook his head condescendingly. “Leave now. See if you can use that CEO line on your own people, now that the Vessel of Fire has set you adrift. Be grateful we didn’t punish you for your failure in a more creative way.”
The Alpha turned without a word and disappeared, one of the robed Jiniyr following behind him. Razia turned toward the others. “He is a loose end we may need to tie up sooner than we thought.”
A male she didn’t recognize stepped forward. “Allow me.”
Razia waved him off. “No, I’m curious to see how he will wriggle out of the trap he set for himself by proclaiming her the last Alpha.” He smirked. “That wolf might love theatrics more than I do. Forget about him, let me see the book.”
Another figure handed him a thick, ancient-looking tome that made Aziza want to scream in denial. They couldn’t have it. It was safe from them. Safe from all of them. Razia started to laugh in true delight. “A stroke of genius, this,” he said to no one in particular. “He always did like games. Perhaps that is why he appreciated your idea. The Jinn are out for blood, searching for the contents of the now-empty vault, the Niyr are in a panic over the Fireborne’s increased disruption of time, and the Enforcers are at each other’s throats. Chaos reins and soon everything will be perfect. The Fireborne will be ready and we will have the knowledge we need to set her free.”
Free her. The Jinn mother. They were planning to use the soul casting ritual to free the soul of the Jinn’s mother, the warrior, from wherever it was held. Aziza knew it was true. But she was still missing something.
The woman who’d been standing still and silent as a statue in the circle of blood lifted her head and spoke. “The exile lives.”
Her voice was painfully familiar.
Razia patted her shoulder. “You could go back to your original plan if you’d like. The Jinn will kill him when they find the book they think is the one we were looking for in his possession, even if the Enforcers don’t. Soon enough you will be free of your pain. You deserve no less after all you have done to further our cause.”
“He promised me Ram would die.” The woman turned and Aziza felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest. “I cannot serve him completely, cannot do what must be done for him—for her—if I’m not whole.”
Shev.
When she moved Aziza could see the small woman who’d been hidden by her body. The crying woman wrapped in iron and kneeling in the circle of dried blood. “But then, if he still lives I can use our connection to stay close to the Fireborne, and then only if all eyes are not fixed on us. Which means I will need to kill the Jinn traitor who attempted to frame Ram and worked with the Jiniyr. Bring back her head on a platter.”
Ram’s youngest sister Hania? Shev had betrayed Ram, Aziza, her people…and now this?
“Don’t worry, dearest Shev. And don’t kill her yet. He may find a use for her. We have played our parts just as he wanted. I was a focus of her hate and you her love. Both of us succeeded admirably. But he is close now. Close to releasing her from her eternal prison and finding the Fireborne’s youngest brother before she does, to ensure there is no potential for the line to continue. Soon our work will be at an end.”
West was shaking her and Ram was beside her, calling her name. “Aziza? Aziza, you need to stop screaming.”
“How?” she cried. “How can I?” How could she? Shev was Ram’s tau’ma. Closer than family. She’d helped Aziza. Helped her understand her powers. She’d cared about them. Only she hadn’t cared. She was Jiniyr. That was why she’d stood by and watched Harash nearly kill Penn. Why she’d left. How could she have fooled them all this time?
And how could she tell Ram about both Shev and Hania without it destroying him?
“No.” She fell to her knees and both men came down with her, holding her and offering comfort.
West’s voice was soothing. “Visions are not always what we expect, but they show us what we need to know. You’re closer to the Mayet now than the Zhaman herself. It may have been more realistic than you’re used to. Just breathe.”
More realistic. More shattering.
Joseph will be at your side at the end.
Joseph needed to be at her side now. And Shev needed to burn. “West, we’re going to need a keeper’s safe house in Bahrain and you’re probably going to want to call my biographer and traveling librarian to see if he can help. I refuse to sit on my thumbs and wait for destiny while my brother is in danger.”
West stood. “You saw that? Joseph in danger?”
She nodded grimly. “And more. Razia isn’t the one in charge, but I’ll know who is soon enough.”
She had to save her brother from the mysterious “him” Shev and Razia had referred to, and if she could get to her in time, she had to save Ram’s sister from Shev. For some reason she knew their search would start where it all began. Home.
She needed to find that amulet her father had shown her in her vision. It meant something. She had to focus on that. Not on the betrayal. Not on the loss.
You are more.
She was. She could feel it.
If they weren’t scared of her before, they would be soon.
About the Author
Best-selling, award-winning romance author R.G. Alexander has been called “a true storyteller” who creates “complex, humorous and heartbreaking characters” and vast and expansive worlds. She has written over twenty books in the paranormal, sci-fi, fantasy and contemporary erotic romance genres. She is also a founding member of The Smutketeers, an author-formed group blog dedicated to promoting fantastic writers and a positive view of female sexuality.
She has lived all over the United States, studied archaeology and mythology, been a nurse and a vocalist, and now? A writer who dreams of vampires, witches and airship battles, and feels lucky every day that she gets to share her stories with her readers. She is happily married to a man known affectionately as the Cookie—her best friend, research assistant and the love of her life. Together they hope to someday tame the wild Roux-Ga-Roux that has taken over their home.
To find out more, visit her website www.rgalexander.com or follow her on twitter @RG_Alexander
Look for these titles by R.G. Alexander
Now Available:
Not in Kansas
Surrender Dorothy
Three for Me?
Wasteland: The Priestess
Truly Scrumptious
Children of the Goddess
Regina in the Sun
Lux in Shadow
Twilight Guardian
Midnight Falls
Wicked3
Wicked Sexy
Wicked Bad
Shifting Reality
My Shifter Showmance
My Demon Saint
Fireborne
Burn With Me
Coming Soon:
Burn Me Down
She walks a tightrope between light and dark. Danger and passion. Obsession and love…
Burn With Me
© 2013 R.G. Alexander
Fireborne, Book 1
Aziza Jane Stewart is living on borrowed time, and making a few mistakes in London seems like a good way to go out with a bang. But when two compelling strangers draw her into an ancient conflict, she realizes her curse isn’t about death at all…it’s about the power within her.
The sexy giant following her says he can smell trouble on her skin, the smokeless fire and magic of the demons he was born and bred to hunt. Brandon may be an enforcer, but his reaction to her is anything but adversarial. Ram, her new Jinn shadow, will do whatever it takes to come between them, and he’s just as hard for Aziza to resist.
When her dark family legacy burns to the surface, whom can Aziza trust? The alpha male who pushes all her hot buttons, the Jinn who seduces her in dreams, or the emerging Fireborne within? As danger circles closer, she must learn to embrace h
er newfound powers—and trust someone with her heart—before she becomes the final casualty.
Warning: Explicit content, magic, danger, voyeurism, chains, a secret ménage and carnal deeds of devilish debauchery at every other turn. Basically…fasten your seatbelts and get ready to burn.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Burn With Me:
Aziza turned down a smaller road and saw it in the distance, the building that held what she’d been looking for. It wasn’t her usual adrenaline-pumping attraction, but the instant Penn told her about it, she’d known she wanted to come here at some point today. St. Dunstan-in-the-East. A bombed-out ruin of a church that, instead of being demolished, built over and forgotten the way it would have been in the States, had been turned into an enchanted Eden.
Surprisingly, there weren’t many tourists nearby. Good. Maybe that meant she could find a free bench for her and Greg to enjoy their lunch.
No one stopped her when she walked up the steps and through the door to enter…heaven.
She gasped and picked up her pace, whirling around as she tried to take in everything at once. Penn had told her, but it was so much better than she’d imagined. It was a moment out of time. A magical place in a world ruled by fairies and daydreams instead of ordinary humans. She could still see modern glass buildings through the old, beautifully arched windows, but inside? It was a wonderland. The garden was alive and vibrant, exotic trees and flowering plants and vines growing up the walls to create a fairytale scene just for her.
She walked up a few steps and looked around. No one was here. Her aunt said people came here for lunch all the time, but today it seemed abandoned. She wasn’t disappointed, just thankful for her good fortune.
For a moment she let herself imagine this was her spot. Hers alone. The floral scent mixed with—she inhaled—surprising traces of pineapple belonged to her. And the circle of benches perfect for reading or just being? All for her.
Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2 Page 27