by AE McKenna
“You don’t have to worry that I’ll make some other wish or abscond with her bottle to trade.” I sniffed. “Just give me the bottle, and I’ll wish for freewill.”
A sad smile tilted half his mouth, and he shook his head. “So will I.” And he rubbed the bottle.
Green-black smoke unfurled from the waterskin, and a nimbus of magic lit up Hunter’s body and roiled in her long curls. “You have entered into a contract with this bottle. In no uncertain terms may you negotiate with this bottle and the power of the djinni within.”
A gold chain lashed out of the bottle and attached to Ray’s chest, and it shone with a bright luster.
“The conditions are simple,” Hunter continued. “One: Wishes require power, and you may only have the power of three—combined or separated. Two: A wish cannot kill or bring one back from the dead. Nor can a wish create life. Three: Wishes cannot impact the emotions of others.”
My breath caught and my legs shook wildly. I knew those words as if they were etched into my soul. Mal shifted closer and slid his fingers between mine.
Tears slipped down Ray’s cheeks as he gave her a sad smile. “I wish for this djinni to have freewill.”
The chains dissolved from them both, and the bottle disappeared from Ray’s hands. Hunter threw herself at him, and they met in a kiss that made me fan myself.
Mom chose that moment to depart her bottle. Her leg seemed fine, yet when she saw Hunter and Ray swapping spit, her expression turned ugly. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Ray and Hunter broke apart. Hunter stiffened at the sight of Mom, and she stepped back and behind her husband. I wondered if there was more to the story, but my heart didn’t hurt as much now that there was one less bottled djinni in the world.
“I owe you both a favor.” Ray shook Mal’s hand, then pumped my arm. “I never thought I could… Thank you.”
Hunter smiled at me. I glanced at her wrists. Her burns were minor, and I wondered if hers would stay or heal.
“I can’t believe you gave them the Blarney Stone.” Mom dragged her hands down her face. “Do you have any idea what that fae is after?”
“Yes, she wants to ask her ancestor, Hun-Hunahpu, to help with that iron bridge.” I glowered at her. “But I don’t have any idea what you’re after, though.”
Mom’s brows slammed together. “The ancient Sythradiafol wants to wake is Hun-Hunahpu.”
Okay, that sounded pretty bad.
Chapter 18
“What exactly is an ancient?” I asked.
Mom surveyed the room, frowned at the pair of guards flanking a door, then stared at the dog for a moment longer than I thought necessary. Ray and Hunter exchanged glances, but they weren’t saying anything, at least not yet. I supposed they wouldn’t be forthcoming to someone who’d help save their relationship.
“A really old fae,” Mal whispered.
“Like Cliodhna?” I hadn’t really thought on it until he said something, but now that I recall my time with her, she’d felt powerful. The kind only age gets you. Like wine.
Mom placed a hand on my arm. “Don’t say her name.”
“Why?” I lifted a brow. “Will it summon her or something like Beetlejuice?”
“Summon her?” Hunter wore a bemused expression.
Mom’s bottle materialized in her hands and she rummaged through it. “Lucy is quite naïve when it comes to the magic realms.”
“Whose fault is that?” I growled.
“I don’t want to fight with you right now.” Mom’s voice sounded tired, like this happened far more than it really had. It stung.
“An ancient is far older than her,” Mal said. “They’re some of the first fae known to… well, creation. In many folklores, they’re depicted as gods. But those who haven’t taken their final death are slumbering, as far as we know.”
“Their final death?” I tilted my head. “Slumbering? What’s the difference?”
“You wake up from one,” Mom muttered.
“I thought you didn’t want to fight,” I snapped.
“I don’t, honeybee.” Mom sighed and met my eyes. “We just don’t have time to go over these questions with you right this second. Sythradiafol’s plans for waking the ancient aren’t anything djinni or humans want.” She glared at Ray. “We had an arrangement of how we’d thwart her, but someone went back on their word.”
Ray rolled his eyes.
“So what are her plans, then?” I asked.
Mal canted his head toward me and shrugged. “Probably to rule the world or something like that. Old fae like her get hung up on that every now and again.”
I smiled. “Oh, that old song and dance?”
Hunter rubbed her wrists. “She has her wish from me. It won’t be hard for her to get to the ring of fire.”
“What?” I asked flatly.
“In South America, there’s a ring of volcanoes—”
“I know what the ring of fire is. Why does she want to go there?”
“Because that’s where the ancient is.” Hunter’s brows furrowed. “She said she was an heir of his. But without his lost codices, the piece of the Blarney is the best chance she has to get her favor.”
“How do you know this?” Mom asked.
Hunter shot Mom a sharp look. “Because she kept my bottle close by and sometimes talked about her plans.”
I swallowed. “So what favor was she going to ask for in exchange for what?”
“Her favor will involve the Iron Realm, but someone must be sacrificed in a death rite to please him. That’s all I know.”
I inched close to Mal, and whispered, “Does this sort of thing happen often?”
“Somewhat,” he murmured. “This rarely goes any further because no one knows where the ancients are slumbering, but I have a bad feeling about this one.”
“You should.” Mom’s shuttered expression flickered with concern before closing again. “I’ll stop her. You need to find Maggie and take her home.”
I glanced at the glimmering tablet still sitting on the table. I did not like Sythradiafol’s expression when she set that down. “Why don’t we do this together? We get Mags safe and then we go after the fae. I don’t want to split up. Not when I just found you.”
Mom smiled. It was one of those “You’re sweet, but it’s not happening” smiles. “I’ll be fine, and this will go faster if we split up. Then we meet back home and have some pizza. How does that sound?”
It sounded like she was pulling a fast one, but I didn’t have any proof. Maybe it was just Mom being Mom, and that should be all the proof I needed. “Mama,” I whispered, stepping closer, “what’s going on?”
“Oh, honeybee.” Mom wrapped me in a tight hug. “Maggie needs your help, and I’ll stop the fae. You can trust me to take care of this. You’ll see.” She gave me an oddly bright smile, tears shimmering in her brown eyes. “Everything will be perfect.”
“Mama, I don’t—”
Mom lifted her hand, revealing a rusted doorknob. She twisted it and a gate strangled by ivy and smelling like grass and rust appeared right in front of us. She opened it and stepped onto a Lantern road I couldn’t make out.
I gaped. Mal tried to catch the door, but it disappeared, leaving behind that smell of magic.
I pointed at the fading magic vibration in the room. “What the hell was that?”
“A door knocker. Broken bottle!” Mal raked his hands through his hair. “Luce, don’t be angry, but I can’t let this go. I don’t trust her.”
The weight on my shoulders continued to grow, and it took everything not to let it push me down. I rubbed my face, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, not after that.”
“Look, I’m faster—”
I frowned at him, not liking where this was going.
“It’s true. I’m faster. I’ll catch up to her and…” He sighed, his brows easing apart. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t get hurt.”
“But you don’t know where she’s going.”
“The ring of fire.”
“But I don’t want to split up,” I said, hating the tremble in my voice.
“I know. I’ll call you as soon as I can. Trust me?” He bit his lip, his dimples weakly winking.
I nodded, hating every second. “Okay.”
He fist-bumped me, shifted into a collage of green and tan smoke, and rushed away. I really hoped he wouldn’t have to arrest her—despite her stealing the Blarney Stone, despite her being a fugitive, I really didn’t want my mom to end up in djinni jail.
Hunter and Ray had whispered heatedly the entire time Mom was convincing us she was right to go on her own. Hunter met my eyes and winced, averting her face, and Ray shook his head.
“You’ll get through this.” A card appeared in Hunter’s hand and she held it out to me. “It’s my contact info.”
I took the chocolate-brown card. It had an iridescent number etched in the heavy cardstock. “Uh, thanks?”
“I owe you.” She smiled a little, staring at my eyebrows. “I can tell you some things you need to know about your family.”
Based off the brief exchange between Ray and Mom in Wales, Hunter had been assigned to the team meant to apprehend my parents when Dad died. Who did she think she was, offering to tell me things I needed to know about my family? I knew who they were, and despite everything, they loved me, dammit. I had a good, albeit lonely, childhood, but I still came out okay more or less. I was just fine.
I rubbed my nail against the card’s thick edge before I tucked it into my back pocket. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Hunter shifted into green-black smoke and hovered. The wind from her twister ruffled the wisps of my hair not tied back in a braid.
Ray glanced at the tablet then at me. “Keep your wits about you. There are two sides to everything.”
“Wait, you were going to take me to Mags.”
He grimaced. “I’m not in this fae’s service anymore, and the house is trying to eject me. If it ejected me with you nearby, it might kick you out, too. One of the guards will take you. Step lightly, Lucy.”
Then he shifted into yellow-tinted white smoke and they left, leaving me alone in a large hall with a snoring dog and a couple guards who watched me. I felt a little weird. They knew I had permission to take Mags out of here. Why couldn’t they just bring her to me? Seemed rude, if you asked me. I approached the table and picked up the metal tablet.
“Ow! Son of a bitch.” It burned my hand, and I dropped it. I shook my hand out and examined my fingers. Burns. Sucking on one, I glared at the tablet. “That’s white gold, isn’t it?”
The guards didn’t reply but they didn’t have to; the burning when I touched it answered my question. The dog jumped to his feet, peeing a little. I sniffed. For how often this dog urinated indoors, it amazed me it didn’t smell.
Grumbling, I shifted the messenger bag across my stomach and touched my bottle. “I need some gloves.”
Diane slowly pushed my no-cut gloves through her opening, finger by finger. I got one glove and tried to tug the other free, but she wouldn’t let me have it. “Drop it. Drop it.”
The dog dropped to its belly, but Diane wouldn’t let go of the other glove. Whatever. I only needed one to hold the tablet, and my no-cut gloves were special. Not only were they made of no piercing fabric, they were layered with fine steel mesh to prevent slicing. They were finger savers, trust me.
I tugged on the glove and scooped up the tablet. It was heavy, about two pounds, and it was a little larger than the palm of my hand. On one side, intricate grooves were etched into the metal, and each corner had a symbol: a snowflake, a flower, a tree, and a leaf. It didn’t take a genius to figure out those represented the four courts of the Faelands. Flipping it over in my hand, there was a mishmash pattern of those symbols, some with blank spaces between them. It reminded me of a quilt.
I waved the tablet as I approached the guards. “Where can I find Mags?” At their confused expression, I explained, “The green-thumb djinni.”
The guard smirked; I hated that expression. He said something to his buddy in the same lyrical language I’d heard in the Summer Court, then motioned to me. “This way, djinni.”
I followed the guard. His armor shone almost as fine as a mirror and I was beginning to think it wasn’t silver, but white gold. First Sythradiafol had made a wish on Hunter’s bottle before turning it over, like she was obligated one. Then she gave me a tablet without telling me it was gold, and now I was surrounded by dudes in gold clothes. The Faelands weren’t friendly to djinni—or anything considered beneath the fae. I loved the world, but I didn’t like the folks ruling it.
I followed the guard down a set of curving stairs.
“How long have you worked for Sythradiafol?” I asked.
“You should not say her name so freely.” Scorn filled his low timbre voice.
“It’s the Beetlejuice thing, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t see his face, but I’m pretty sure he scowled at me. “You would do well to learn your place, djinni. Here, in this house, you are only allowed to leave with your kin because you completed your favor with my liege.”
I got the feeling he didn’t want to talk to me. He led me down a short stone corridor with barren branches acting as structural support, and a large, ornate door at the end. He opened it for me. Why did I even need a key? As soon as I stepped into the room, candelabras ignited, revealing gold decorative tiled floor and walls.
The breath whooshed out of my lungs as if I’d been socked in the stomach. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
In the center of the djinni death trap room hung a golden gibbet and Mags sat inside it.
Chapter 19
The door knocker’s rust-and-ivy magic scent led me to Archaeology Way. I raced for the first Lantern door, and once inside, I paused, stretching my jaw to pop my ears from the transition from the Faelands to the Lantern. Which way had she gone? Like a stone dropping into a calm lake, a ripple led me in the opposite direction, and the ivy-choked gate slammed closed.
I darted along Archaeology Way, my tan and green smoke churning as I frantically searched for Penny. What the hell did she get her smoke so twisted up over? There was more to what she was letting on to Luce, but right now, I needed to stop her. And do what? Talk her off the cliff, I guessed. I really didn’t want to be that guy who arrested his girlfriend’s mother, but I also had a duty to the bureau. There had to be a way I could keep both Lucy and my job at the end of this.
I skipped over Cardiff Bay, darted across the southern tip of Wales, then glided along the English Channel toward France. Penny was taking the long way to South America. The Lantern road subtly changed from fortified castles and pop culture museums to art, chateau vineyards, and monuments. I pressed on, increasing my pace the farther south I ventured. I’d yet to see Penny’s smoke, and a part of me worried that I’d chosen the wrong direction.
Archaeology Way converged with Creed Street—a religious expressway—and they overlapped one another like a double-exposed photograph from an ’80s relic. This happened because churches had historic sites attached to them. I wouldn’t be able to access Creed Street from Archaeology Way. Instead, I’d have to enter the Iron Realm or the Faelands to access the other street.
A magic wrinkle smelling like rust buzzed along the road, and Penny darted through the gate to Realty Lane. It closed before I could follow. Skidding to a stop and blowing the smoke out from me, I took the first door to the Iron Realm and into a Mudéjar complex of Teruel, Spain. My ears plugged as I glanced around, looking for the same signs or smell indicating Penny was nearby. The sun dipped beneath the horizon and darkness spread over the complex like spilled ink.
I called upon my blending powers and ran through the complex, dodging around lagging tourist humans who either didn’t notice me until I was past them, or not at all. The churches’ architecture kept their necks craned or a camera plastered to their faces. My feet pounded the pavement as I darted between bell towers, steepled churches, and
through intricate archways until I stumbled into a clearing. Sucking in heaps of air and working my jaw, I examined the area. An ancient setting of multiple religions coinciding within the same complex rose behind me, and a modern plaza hugged by centuries of growth lay before me. Buses rumbled down the wider streets while skinny cars zipped back and forth. Thick foot traffic congested the side thoroughfares.
Where is the door?
I summoned my phone and pulled up Web Smoke and searched for the closest door to Realty Lane. Property for sale, big or small, was always nearby, and I jogged down the footpath to a boarded-up bakery. Ensuring no one paid attention to me, I peeled the sign open and stepped onto hard asphalt lined by picket fences.
It was busy with multi-colored wind dervishes of djinni traversing the road. I took a moment to unplug my ears while searching for signs of Penny. Ahead, I watched some djinni tumble out of smoke and heard angry shouts. I bet that’s Penny. I shifted, racing toward her and keeping to the center of the road. Stumbling over a faery trap was the last thing I needed.
Whirlwinds tangled, and more cries resounded along the road. I caught sight of money-green smoke. I pressed on, putting an extra burst of speed to my twister, getting closer. Penny pushed djinnis out of the way if they weren’t quick enough. Some lurched out of smoke, tumbling toward the picket fences. Djinnis leading humans and other djinnis—some in gold chains—watched us curiously. My stomach curdled. If they knew I was a lightlighter, they’d probably work together to stop me.
Penny veered through the smoke as badly and aggressively as she drove. She slammed into a couple, sending one of the djinnis careening toward the picket fence of an unkempt house and djinni for sale sign. It sucked away their smoke and a ring of pink mushrooms cropped up around their feet.
My stomach and chest hardened and I couldn’t tear my gaze away. The djinni frantically beat against the invisible trap. What could I do? There was nothing short of waiting with them and negotiating with whoever set the trap, and even that might not be for hours. I couldn’t break faery traps, and no fae owed me any favors that I could use to break it either. The only power I had right now was stopping Penny from whatever crazy scheme she’d set in motion.