Heart pounding, I pulled out my phone and dialed Lieutenant Bitchface—Gretchen. I had to start thinking of her as Gretchen. As annoying as she was, she was the best one to have on a job like this. It only took a minute to describe the scene and convince her to head over.
As I hung up, a shimmer near the ceiling caught my eye—a band of golden writing burned along the top of the walls.
Holy shit. What had I walked into?
The script ran continuously along the perimeter of the room, and I grabbed one of the toppled chairs and climbed up to inspect it. Superficially, it flowed like Arabic calligraphy, but the individual letters were different. I had never seen anything like it. The writing had to be some sort of spell, but what kind?
I closed my eyes and took a mental image of the writing, then snapped some pictures with my phone just to be sure. My photographic memory was good but not perfect. Still, I had a sinking feeling that I knew what the writing was. There had been too many coincidences tonight.
The lieutenant barged into the apartment with Detective Miller in tow. She scanned the room, then fixed me a flabbergasted stare. “What in the hell are you doing up there, Neve?”
“I’m reading the writing on the wall.”
“What are you talking about?” Gretchen snapped.
She couldn’t see it? Confused, I looked at my phone.
My photos showed bare walls. I glanced back up. The emblazoned writing was still there.
My stomach turned.
Something tugged at the back of my memory. Had I seen this before?
It felt like a sound at the tip of my tongue. A word I couldn’t pronounce. If my suspicions were right, there was no way I could explain why I was seeing the writing without letting them know what I was.
“Neve?” Gretchen prodded.
“Nothing. Thought I saw something, but I didn’t.” I got down from the chair and gave my statement to Gretchen and Miller. Despite Gretchen’s cantankerous exterior, she was kind. She was obviously concerned about Rhiannon, doing her best to muscle down the worry and focus on her job.
I would definitely stop putting salt in her coffee.
I left out the details about Damian in the bar. That could potentially tank my career—plus, I couldn’t risk letting them on to what I was. I didn’t mention the writing on the wall again, either. Gretchen seemed to have forgotten it, or perhaps she’d assumed I was out of my mind.
My duties done, I slipped out as more officers arrived.
I hailed a cab and headed home, replaying my conversation with Damian Malek. He was tracking down a loose djinn. Could it have kidnapped Rhiannon?
Things began to fall into place. I was the only one who could see the writing…was it because I was half djinn? Could it be a language of the djinn? Had the kidnapper left a message?
I tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Change of plans. I need to go to the Hall of Inquiry.”
He dropped me off about twenty minutes later, and I bounded up the stairs at the front of the building. Security was used to me visiting at odd hours, and the guards didn’t ask too many questions as they walked me through the East Wing and over the annex skybridge to the Archives.
The magical doors to the Archives were decorated with constantly shifting scenes of bizarre animals and monsters, scientists tinkering with equipment, astronomers studying the heavens, and a myriad of depictions representing the breadth of knowledge contained within.
I swiped my keycard and entered the vast domed space that was shrouded in shadow. Even at this hour, the librarians—fiendish imps—were flying in and out of the stacks, retrieving and shelving books. Every muscle in my body relaxed. This was my true home. Even in the dead of night, I was more comfortable here than anywhere else on Earth.
After an hour of hunting, I found a dusty tome written in the 1920s, The Language of the Djinn. While I flipped through the cracked and yellowed pages, something tickled the back of my mind. A long-lost memory. Something intertwined with my childhood.
I closed my eyes and recalled the words I had seen on the walls. As I located them in the book and scanned the translation, my skin went cold. The inscription was a binding spell of the djinn—a trap laid for Rhiannon that would have prevented her from slipping away through time.
A lump rose in my throat. My best friend had been kidnapped by a djinn.
The djinn had hunted down a time traveler.
Shivering, I swallowed hard.
I had to find Damian Malek.
5
I woke with my face smooshed against the pages of The Language of the Djinn, still haunted by a series of strange dreams. Somehow, I had fallen asleep reading, searching for more answers.
My phone display flashed 8:30 a.m.
Crap!
I had to get a move on.
I could smell the stink of the gallu on my shirt, an unfortunate reminder of last night. I paused in horror. Had I actually gone to the bar smelling like this?
Before anything else, I needed a shower, coffee, and a fresh set of clothes.
I took one last mental image of the djinn binding spell before returning the tome to its slot, then I booked it home.
I spent the cab ride fretting about Rhiannon. Like djinn, time travelers were also hunted by nefarious types who would exploit their powers to change the past. Normally, I never worried about Rhia—she was tough and resourceful, and she could use her magic to jump away if things got dicey. She might not be able to control where she went in time, but she could always get home. I couldn’t even do that if I planes-walked.
I leaned back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling as my eyes pricked with tears.
I couldn’t lose her. She was all I had.
Finally, the cab pulled up outside my place, an old red brick building with a wild, inlaid art deco entrance. It must have been built a century ago, and I loved it. Bleary eyed, I got out. I had to clear my mind and wake up.
Hurrying, I swung by the Magic Bean, a coffee shop located across the street from my apartment. It was a chain, but the brew was half decent. Their scones, though…those were a crime against pastry.
Equipped with coffee, I entered my building and found the elevator empty. It crawled upward to the ninth floor at an agonizingly slow pace. I sipped my coffee and savored its nutty aroma, trying not to freak out about Rhia.
I had a lot of decisions ahead of me. Most of them were strewn around my apartment.
The interior of my abode resembled an unkempt clothing bazaar, with outfits scattered over every available surface. I needed something professional to get me inside Malek Tower, but something that also said, I’m prepared to kick ass and take names. If it also made me look irresistibly gorgeous, that would be good, too.
Hmm.
I raced through my shower, and with no time to spare, I threw on a reliable look: a pair of gray moto jeans, my favorite white silk blouse, and a tan leather jacket. I went over last night’s events in my head as I adjusted the necklace Rhiannon had given me a couple years ago, an opal pendant dangling at the end of a long gold chain.
Last night, Damian Malek tried to blackmail me to help him hunt down an evil djinn, and I’d turned him down. Now I desperately needed whatever information he had to track my friend.
I had to look confident. Convincing. Like I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I glanced at my beauty table, then topped my look off with some red lipstick. Because when in doubt, wear red.
I ditched my purse for a small backpack and stuffed it with a few essentials, including my khanjar.
Boots—check. Outfit—check. Face—check. Dagger—check. Coffee—check.
Let’s do this.
I burst out of my apartment, only to then be forced to wait ten minutes for an Uber that got lost twice on the way. I mentally castigated the driver as I tapped my toe. Magic Side, like the rest of Chicago, was on a grid system, and my apartment shouldn’t be difficult to find. Twitchy in my impatience, I fiddled with the opal around my neck. My best friend
was missing, and I had to get her back.
I checked the time. 10:30 a.m.
Damn.
I should probably call work, I thought, but as I reached for my phone, I paused. What would I say? Hi, Gretchen, I can’t come in today. I’m meeting Damian Malek, nefarious Underworld boss and bounty hunter.
I wouldn’t call. She had an instinct for lies, and I couldn’t tell the truth. Instead, I tapped out a text: Feeling sick. Worried about Rhiannon. Can’t come in today.
The Uber dropped me off out front of Malek Tower, a jarring juxtaposition of modern glass architecture and gothic elements. The top of the tower came to a sharp point, like a black glass harpoon thrust toward the heart of heaven. I stormed through the lobby doors but was stopped by a burly security guard.
“I have an urgent meeting with Mr. Malek,” I lied, crossing my fingers that Damian was actually there.
Twelve minutes later, and after a series of phone calls, I was finally allowed on the elevator. It rocketed up to the 107th floor.
The elevator doors opened to reveal a dark reception area with walls of carved ebony. Shadows made it hard to discern the details of the decoration, but it reeked of power.
In the middle of the room, a receptionist sat behind a large desk, half of her face illuminated by a single green lamp. She fixed me with a vacant, reptilian stare. “You must be Ms. Cross. Mr. Malek will be with you shortly. Please have a seat.”
I fumed. Are you kidding me? Between the cab, the doorman, and the elevator ride, I had wasted enough time already.
“No more waiting!” I snapped, and barged through the set of double doors.
Well, I tried to. They were locked.
Irritated, I pounded on the door, and Damian’s voice sounded over the secretary’s speaker phone: “You can let her in.”
I shot her a triumphant look, then turned to push on the door…which was still locked. My glare turned wrathful, and the secretary gave me an unnaturally slow blink in return.
“Sorry.” She smiled and reached under her desk to push a concealed button. The doors clicked, and I finally went through.
Damian stood at the far end of the room, gazing through a wall of windows overlooking the expanse of Lake Michigan and Magic Side below. He cut a striking silhouette against the sky, a black shape against white clouds. His tailored navy suit fit perfectly, accentuating his tall, athletic form.
“Ms. Cross.” Damian turned. “I’ve been waiting.”
His signature rolled over me like an ocean wave. He had repressed his power last night in public. Now, barely restrained, his magic crushed against me like the pressure of the deep.
I could barely breath, but I steeled my resolve. I would not let him intimidate me.
I strode halfway across the room. “Last night, you asked me to help you find a djinn. Thirty minutes later, I discovered my best friend was taken by one. What do you know, and what haven’t you told me?”
Damian frowned. “Do you mean the woman you were with last night?”
I nodded. “Rhiannon Holloway. She’s a detective at the Order.”
“How do you know she was taken by a djinn?” He crossed the room, and I was taken aback by his broad shoulders and tall frame. His magic rippled off him, searing my skin with a radiant heat and igniting a flutter in my stomach.
My pulse quickened, and my senses heightened.
I stepped back, trying to focus. “I found her apartment in shambles, and there were remnants of a djinn binding spell emblazoned into the walls.”
“If that’s true, do you know why the djinn would have taken her?”
I didn’t dare reveal Rhia’s powers to him, so I gave a half-truth. “Rhiannon’s been investigating a string of disappearances. They’re probably related to your djinn.”
“I am sorry. If the djinn is responsible for your missing friend and others around the city, then we have to act now. You need to help me.”
“Not until we set some ground rules. Otherwise, I go straight to the Order.” I walked over to the glass windows and gazed out across the vibrant city and the churning waters of the lake. “Priority one is we need to find Rhiannon.”
Damian joined me at the window. “And the djinn?”
He was right. We had to stop it, or the disappearances wouldn’t end.
“Fine. After we get Rhiannon, I’ll help you with the djinn. Then you can do whatever it is you want with it.” I turned to him, meeting his intense gaze. “And one more thing, you’ll have to sign a binding magical document to never tell anyone what I am.”
“Of course.” Damian crossed to his desk and pressed the intercom. “Erica. Bring me a binding contract, please.”
A minute later, a brown-haired girl with icy eyes, black horns, and a grey skirt swept in with the contract and a pen. The paper shimmered with deadly magic. As Damian scrawled his promises across the page, thin trails of smoke rose from the letters, filling the air with the pungent scent of brimstone.
Clearly, this was one hell of an enchantment.
He handed me the paper, and I read it three times. The language was tight. Maybe there was a way for him to weasel out, but I couldn’t find it in the pressure of the moment.
In exchange, all I had to do was transport him to and from the Realm of Air. My stomach knotted. Not because I was agreeing to work with one of Chicago’s biggest crime lords, or that I was making a pact with a fallen angel to track down a djinn, but because I was agreeing to return to the Realm of Air.
All in all, I wasn’t on the hook for much. But the contract still scared me. These things were dangerous.
I looked up and met his intense green eyes. “I wasn’t lying. I don’t know how to control my power or navigate between the elemental planes.”
He smiled. “I did promise to help you, didn’t I? I never break a promise. I know you can do this.”
I eyed him suspiciously, though something about the way he said it calmed my nerves. Perhaps it was the low tone in his voice, or the confidence.
Or maybe I was just going mad. Working with Damian Malek? I shook my head to clear it. There was a good chance I’d end up either fired or dead at the end of this mess.
But I didn’t have a choice.
Holding my breath, I pushed the terror from my mind, and signed my name.
“How did you get involved in this?” I asked.
Damian looked down at me with a disarming smile. “The genie was released unintentionally, and it’s my job to bring it back.”
“Who released it?”
He paused. “I don’t know. But it’s a powerful djinn, and I suspect it’s creating a stronghold in the Realm of Air.”
Djinn were one of the four types of genies, and they ruled the Elemental Plane of Air. Efreeti ruled the Realm of Fire, dao the Realm of Earth, and marids the Realm of Water. Because I was part djinn, I could innately travel to the Realm of Air, but not the other three.
Damian rapped pointedly on the window with his knuckle. “As you know, djinn are unbelievably powerful beings, and there’s no way to defeat one outright. I consulted with a mage, and our best option is to try to trap it in an object, like the lamp to which it had been bound. But to do so, we’ll need to go to his palace and collect something precious to him to help with the binding spell.”
“Wait a second…you said he was trapped in a lamp. How could you know that?”
Was Damian concealing something about this job?
He pulled a shiny brass object from his pocket. Part of a lamp. “Because I was charged with finding the djinn. To do that, I needed something that belonged to him. It helps focus my seeker magic.”
He moved closer, sending shivers across my skin. “I understand you may find the idea of binding and trapping a djinn distasteful, but it’s a destructive entity that needs to be stopped.”
The proposition was terrible and brought a lump to my throat.
Could I trap and bind one of my own kind?
Hell, I hadn’t even met my own kind. The though
t excited me. I might learn more about myself. My powers. My family—
No. I’d give it all up for Rhia, if I had to.
“Rhiannon is my family. I’ll do anything to get her back.” I had lost my family once. It was not happening again.
“I understand.” Damian nodded. “I respect that.”
He turned and crossed to the far end of the room. I relaxed a little now that his magic wasn’t making my skin tingle.
Damian traced his hand in an arc along the wall beside his desk. A flare of light revealed a ring of emblazoned runes. “I have something for you.”
He stepped forward and vanished through the wall.
I approached cautiously—I knew very little about this man or his magic.
He returned a moment later, carrying a wide, leather-bound book with gold lettering embossed into the cover. “I’m led to believe that you’re fond of books?”
Curiosity consumed me, and I moved closer. “What is it?”
The book hummed with magic. Rather than smelling like a dusty old volume, it exuded scents of incense and distant lands. It was deliciously ancient.
Damian placed the tome on his desk and stepped back, gesturing for me to approach. “It’s the Atlas of the Planes. There are only three copies known to exist. It was extremely difficult to come by. I had hoped to use it to hunt down the djinn myself, but I don’t have the gift.”
“The gift?” I ran my hand across the leather cover. It was warm, as if it had been sitting in the sun.
“The ability to see what is within.” Damian stepped closer, looking down over my shoulder. “To me, it’s just empty pages.”
My breath caught.
I opened the cover.
“What do you see?” he whispered, sending shivers dancing up my spine.
There were only a dozen or so pages within the large atlas. Dense calligraphy covered the initial leaves. I turned them over to reveal a map of the Realm of Air, sketched in detail with white ink.
I stared down at the shapes and figures on the page, and they began to move and dance before my eyes. I was drawn in by the vast realm of sky that appeared on the paper, pierced by floating cities wrapped in clouds. They were just specks in an open expanse, but as I looked at them, I felt myself tumbling closer. Spires rose from the mist, and birds wheeled through the air.
Wicked Wish (Dragon's Gift: The Storm Book 1) Page 3