Death Rite Genie: An Urban Fantasy Folly

by AE McKenna

  My bottle sucked up my chance at a snack, pausing part of the way through it like she was having difficulty swallowing. Bit off more than you could chew, eh? Then it finally dawned on me. The faery trap siphoned power, too. Eventually, my bottle powered through like a champ and swallowed the rest of my cheese. There went lunch.

  I groaned and rubbed my eyes, belatedly realizing I might have mace on my fingers. When the burning didn’t return, I let out a long sigh. I really couldn’t blame the bottle for doing something that was her nature. It was instinctual for a djinni bottle to suck things up: my snacks, the toaster—me. Just like Mal’s powers sometimes triggered when he felt in danger. Mine were kind of like that. Powered by sarcasm, but I didn’t think I could mouth off at mushrooms holding my smoke hostage to get my powers back.

  I rubbed the mushrooms more, craving the familiar feeling of my magic and wishing I understood how the trap worked. The headache unfolded, clamping onto my brain. Maybe I should yell for Mal to wake up. But if those people in the rest of the house knew I was sufficiently better and had an extra djinni with me, they’d probably call in their fae friend, and that’d be it for us.

  I frowned at my bottle. “Did you at least put the cheese in the fridge?”

  I’d been slowly redecorating the inside. It took a lot of my energy and sometimes, my bottle helped—like with the sasquatch hoodie. She gave me a better shoe rack and a side-by-side fridge. Oh, that wasn’t as cool as it sounded. The freezer had a water and ice maker inside the door, so it took up even more precious space. But I had a magic fridge that stayed cold without being plugged in.

  I’d give anything to be inside my bottle right now instead of a faery trap. I’d be safe since I wasn’t wearing gold. But that would leave Mal unprotected, and he was counting on me to keep him safe while he healed.

  The more I rubbed the mushroom, the spongier it felt under my fingertips, and the worse my head hurt. I picked at it like a scab. The dark blue layer peeled off, leaving behind white flesh with pale blue specks. A bit of weight resting in my stomach shifted, and nausea settled in. Even my bottle seemed more… bottle-y. It ate the crackers in one gulp. My breath hitched and tingles spread beneath my skin. A vise tightened around my cranium and something warm trickled from my nostril. I ripped the mushroom cap off and blue smoke discharged from the ring like steam from a boiling kettle. I inhaled, the smoke filling me. The mushrooms at my feet shriveled and I kicked them away.

  “Huh. That was easier than expected.” I scooped up my bottle then slung the bag over my shoulders.

  A wave of dizziness overwhelmed me and I stumbled, bracing against the desk to keep me upright. I sniffed, thinking I smelled a gentle bouquet of flowers but snorted blood instead. I wiped it from my nose. Is this an after-effect from breaking the faery trap? I’d ask Mal about that later and opened my bag. A sweatshirt still swaddled Mal’s bottle. I tucked my bottle beside it. “Now let’s get out of here.”

  The door opened.

  “What the fuck?” Lanky asked.

  Hyena gawked. “How the smoking hell did you get out of the faery trap?”

  Frostburn settled in my chest—a sign my bad luck was primed to trigger—and I dragged it down to my core. My magic flexed. Now all I had to do was use it. “Easy.” I smirked. “Your creepy dolls helped.”

  The dense power circled my middle and built, heavier, colder, until it erupted from me. I couldn’t see magic, but I could smell it as the scent of a wildflower meadow wafted through the office. The room spun. My queasiness intensified. Bile splashed the back of my throat and I barely shoved my face into a corner before puking next to a filing cabinet.

  “Broken bottle!” Hyena cried.

  Peeking over my shoulder, I wiped my mouth. As one, the doll heads turned toward the door. Some broke off because porcelain wasn’t meant to rotate like that. The lazy-eyed freakshows sighed and lurched from the shelves, their pudgy plastic arms outstretched.

  “Mama,” they said. “Mama.”

  The hairs on my arms rose.

  I could see the whites around Lanky’s eyes. “Long slumbering ancients, please wake me from this nightmare, take me to the—”

  “Mama. Mama. Mama.”

  The horde of dollies waddled to the door, crying, sighing, some complaining their diaper needed changing. The headless ones blocked the djinnis’ exit. The dolls clutched at the djinnis’ legs, grabbed, and climbed. In seconds, the djinnis fell to the ground while those little terrors demanded their mother in recorded gusto.

  That was my cue to get the hell out of here. I spun to the window, unlocked it, and flung it up. I shifted to smoke, poured out the window, and zipped down Realty Lane, watching out for mushrooms.

  Eventually, the signs became more commercial than djinni, and when I found the street filled with Century 21 signs, I pushed my smoke away, peeled one open, and stepped out into the dusk of the Iron Realm.

  I worked my jaw to ease the pressure in my ears while I got my bearings. I was in front of a townhouse in the middle of downtown somewhere. The road signs said Court and 2nd, and that street parking was free after seven PM. This definitely wasn’t Omaha. I whirled around. There were parking garages, pubs, and a grocery store. Then, past the German pub, I spotted the Science Center of Iowa. That had to be a way to get onto Archaeology Way. I ran toward the building, casting a mournful look at the Hessen Haus. I smelled schnitzel, and I was starving.

  No, Lucy. You have cheese and crackers in your bottle.

  I jogged across train tracks, up to the center, and stepped inside, allowing the Lantern door to beckon me. It was a ticket kiosk. I glanced around, hearing the vibrations of an IMAX movie playing, but the entrance was deserted.

  I focused on the kiosk and smiled sweetly. “Open, says me.”

  Wouldn’t you know it? It worked!

  I ducked inside, my ears becoming extra clogged from the transition between realms, and made sure the door closed behind me.

  “Wow.”

  A starry sky greeted me as a paved stone road felt worn and old beneath my feet. Turnstiles, kiosks, and velvet rope lined the street. On the other side, there was a dinosaur skeleton. And signs. Oh thank god, there were signs. I saw one for castles, and since we were on our way to merry old England, I figured that would at least get me across the Atlantic Ocean. Or so I hoped. I shifted to smoke and drifted along the road.

  I shouldn’t have dawdled, but I’d seen nothing like this before. Between the twists and swirls of my smoke, I saw aquariums, paintings, war sites, monuments, and the coral reef. I followed the signs for castles, skipping over bays and lakes.

  Hours passed. I’d seen a few columns, and some of them had wanted signs for the Curator, the djinni who had intended to sell me off. He was still wanted, and I hoped he wouldn’t be stupid enough to hang out in a Lantern street that used to be his old stomping grounds.

  My bag became as heavy as a grown man. My smoke flagged, and I stumbled to a stop. I checked my feet just to be safe, but there was no fungus around them. I slung off the bag, opened it, and Mal poured out in a plume of green and tan smoke.

  He was clean, hale, and healthy. I sagged with a relieved breath and threw myself in his arms.

  “Whoa, whoa, easy.” He held me tight. “Did something happen?”

  I breathed in his fresh soapy smell and sunshine scent. “Is the sky blue?”

  “Why didn’t you call for me?” He set me apart from him but kept his hands on my shoulders.

  “You were asleep.”

  He canted his head, then glanced around. “Well, you did good. You found Archaeology Way and we’re in Newfoundland.”

  I snorted. “Mal, you have no idea.”

  He smiled, dimples winking. “I’m starving. Let’s find a place to eat and you can tell me what happened.”

  My stomach thought that was a great idea.

  Chapter 7

  My phone buzzed as Luce and I stepped into a low-lit pub. I tugged it out, noticing I had two missed calls and
a voicemail. All from Dean, my supervisor in the AD—the antiquities department. The prospect of losing my job loomed before me. It wasn’t long ago that I’d gone AWOL to help Lucy, and here I was doing it again. I didn’t know how to go about this. I enjoyed working for the bureau, and the AD had renewed my sense of justice when the CADD had shown me how many djinnis I’d have to sacrifice to save one or two.

  I glanced at Luce, who spoke with the hostess. She was the only djinni I’d personally “saved.” The djinni auctions officiated by the Curator had stopped. Largely thanks to us. However, infiltrating that world had shown me I wasn’t cut out for undercover work like I’d hoped. Like my mother had wanted. But seeing Lucy free and happy made the seven months of blown cover worth it.

  I followed Luce and the hostess to a dark wood table, and we both sat down, taking the menus.

  Lucy opened the menu and her pale blue eyes lit up. “Poutine. Have you had it before?” She didn’t wait for my response. “They have personal pizzas!”

  I chuckled. “You really can’t get enough pizza, can you?”

  “Why would I try?” She shivered, pulling her arms closer to her body. “Man, I wish I hadn’t lost that sasquatch hoodie. It was super comfy.”

  “And hideous. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and put on a sweatshirt?”

  A slow smile lit up her face. She reached across the tiny table and fist-bumped me. “You’re so smart. Order me a beer, will you?”

  I nodded and watched her go. When the server came, I ordered us both local beers and some poutine. Then I called my supervisor.

  “Tanaka, did you get the reports about the Blarney Stone?” Dean asked by way of answering the phone.

  “I saw them, but I’m at the pub right now.” He’d know humans surrounded me and wouldn’t expect much detail from me. “Do you have a lead you need me to run through the database?”

  “Oh, yes. One of the pixies that monitors that road saw a woman and man. The description fits Penny Avalon, and the man—”

  “What? How?” My stomach dropped.

  “Money-green smoke.” His voice sounded strained from the interruption. “We think the other might be Ray, the agent who went MIA while he was monitoring Realty Lane. You worked with Ray in CADD.”

  “I did, sir.” And we’d shared a cubicle, too. Ray used to push his work onto my plate, but I’d never imagined he’d switch teams like Penny had.

  Lucy returned to the table wearing a red sweatshirt that had a pizza slice on it that read, “What kind of person doesn’t like pizza? A weirdough.” She smiled at me and opened her menu.

  “How fast can you get to Ireland?” Dean asked. “I’d like your skills in setting up an information forum and tracking in the Web Smoke. We need the Blarney Stone back, but this is the first chance in a long time that we have a solid lead on Avalon.”

  I closed my eyes. “I, uh, actually needed to call you for personal time.”

  “Do you believe now is the right time for personal leave?” Dean sighed. “Let’s remove Avalon from the picture so I may impress upon you how dire this situation is. If the Blarney Stone isn’t recovered, the economy for County Cork is destroyed. But that isn’t the worst scenario. The stone turned the castle grounds into a wild place. Do you know what a wild place is, Tanaka?”

  Lesser fae and djinnis were drawn to wild places because the barrier was thinner and magic flavored the area. It created attractions and safe harbors for magic. “Yes, I do.”

  “Then you know that if the stone isn’t returned, the barrier will thicken. The castle will crumble. The local pixie colony will die out if they don’t relocate before it’s too late. A mass human exodus. What is more important than this?”

  “My friend’s family was”—I lowered my voice—“kidnapped, and she asked me for help.”

  There was a loud exhalation. “Your friend won’t ask the bureau to help?”

  “No, sir. Not yet.” The bureau never became involved with cases involving missing djinnis unless officially requested. Too often, djinnis agreed or were tricked to give up their freewill as favors to fae. Once a djinni wore gold, there was nothing anyone could do short of taking mastery over the bottle and using all three wishes to grant freewill—and no one could resist using one wish. I rubbed the gold burn on my sternum through my shirt. Usually, no one could resist.

  “Is this similar to why you abandoned your undercover assignment with the CADD?”

  I swallowed. When I had transferred from the CADD to the AD, Dean and I had a long discussion about what had led to my actions. The words “intuition” and “initiative” were tossed around a lot. “It might be.”

  Anyway, I had a better lead on Penny in Wales than Ireland. Silence flooded the connection. I stared at Lucy, who was doing her best to give me privacy. However, I wouldn’t go to Wales as a lightlighter, I’d be going as her friend.

  “Can you help with the forum at all?” Dean asked.

  “I’ll build it for you tonight so long as you don’t want it to look pretty.”

  “Good. And Tanaka? If you need help, call. Check in as often as you can.”

  “I will, sir. Thank you.”

  “Shine light on corruption.”

  “Light fill me with justice.” I ended the call and tucked my phone away. “Sorry about that.”

  The poutine and beer arrived, and we placed our orders.

  Luce dug her fork into the fries and cheese curds and stuffed it in her mouth. She made an approving noise, then took a large swallow of beer and sat back in her chair, sighing. “Man, today sucked. You look good. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  I nodded. “Sorry it took me so long to heal. My arm and collarbone were jacked pretty bad.” Not to mention my feet, but I wouldn’t talk about them while we were eating. I took a forkful of fries and gravy as I searched her face, noting the tightness around her mouth and the bags under her eyes. “What happened while I was out? You seem stressed.”

  She rubbed her scarred wrists through the cuffs of her sweatshirt, scanning the boisterous fans watching a football game on TV. Patrons steadily filled booths and tables, adding to the dinner rush already in full swing. As long as we didn’t shout, their conversations should hold their attention.

  Lucy bit her lip with her slightly crooked front teeth and leaned forward. “I ran into trouble on Realty Lane.”

  “What kind of trouble? Couldn’t have been too much.”

  She quirked a brow, dredging a cheese curd through gravy. “Don’t underestimate me.”

  “I’m not.” I stole her cheese curd. “It’s just that we’re both here together, albeit a little later than I expected, but we’re fine.”

  “How much trouble would you rate a faery trap?” she softly asked.

  I almost choked on my beer, then laughed. “A lot. But you would’ve called me if that happened.”

  She lowered her eyes and concentrated on making the perfect bite of fry, cheese, and gravy. “So, I ran into a faery trap.”

  “Shut up. You did not.” I gaped at her. “You would’ve called me.”

  “Apparently the mushrooms take on the color of your smoke?” She tilted her head at me. “I didn’t even know what to look for. I guess I can’t be too surprised. What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  My head swam. She’d only know that if a faery trap had ensnared her, but only fae can break faery traps. I took a bracing drink of beer. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  Our food arrived and I requested another round of drinks; we’d need them. I’d ordered fish and chips, and she had a specialty pizza with figs and prosciutto. It smelled a lot better than it sounded. Luce lifted a slice and gushed about the crumb, even pointing out air pockets in the crust.

  “Lucy.” I did my best to keep my voice even and soft so we wouldn’t attract human attention. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “You were hurt and sleeping. Worst, you’d be in the same boat as me. At best, I’d be able to call you to help me if things got wor
se. But I didn’t need to.”

  Then she launched into a story about threatening a pair of djinnis with a pizza wheel, macing herself, breaking a faery trap, and siccing a bunch of dolls on the djinnis to make her escape. I couldn’t believe it—I mean, I had to. She sat across from me. But that she’d broken a faery trap was nuts.

  “How could you know to do that?” I asked.

  “It was my smoke.” She frowned. “It was kind of an accident, really. I just noticed the more I touched the mushrooms, the more they lost color. Then they just kinda… crumbled.” She shrugged and took a huge bite, humming as she chewed. “I think it was my bad luck, really.”

  The server dropped off our drinks and took the empties. I stared at my half-eaten dinner, dumbfounded. Sure, her bad luck could do a lot of crazy things that shouldn’t be possible, like creating a djinni silk bond as a djinni fresh in her powers. I’d simply expected the more she accepted her bottle, the less her powers would be out of control.

  “I had a nosebleed and puked after I broke the trap,” she murmured. “Is that normal?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Breaking traps isn’t normal.”

  “Well, it was more…” She squinted at the ceiling. “I was really dizzy afterwards, got a bloody nose before Lanky and Hyena checked on me, so I cursed the dolls, then I puked.”

  “It sounds like you’re using a muscle that isn’t getting worked much.”

  “Like my smoke?” She sighed. “It probably was just my bad luck.”

  “Maybe.” Magic was different for everyone. But the fact remained, only fae could break faery traps. Was it truly hard to believe her “bad” luck could do impossible things, especially when her emotions ran high? I didn’t know what any of this meant for her. “You’re…”

  “Unlucky? I know that.”

  “I was going to say amazing.”

  She blinked at me, then dipped her head. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “You’re badass. I still stand by that statement.”

  “Thanks, Mal.” She smiled at me. “It means a lot to hear that.”