The Night Witch: Wilde Justice, Book 6

by Stark, Jenn

  “No,” I said honestly.

  She smiled. The sight was unnerving, like seeing myself in the mirror doing things I wasn’t doing.

  “It’s illusion magic. It’s not even that hard. And I’m really, really good at it now. So I could kill you, Sara Wilde, kill you dead before you even realized your head had left your body, and then do the things you’re afraid to do.”

  Even as she spoke, I didn’t believe her. Or rather, I knew that wasn’t what she was after. But I didn’t miss the quick jerk of her body, so like my own that I knew exactly what was coming next. The knife slipped free of its sheath at her side, her arm going back with a sharpness that I never possessed. The limbs were mine, but the skill was all Gamon.

  A second later, the knife hurtled through the air, spinning toward me, not a knife at all, but a throwing star. I hated those things. I ducked out of the way just in time, and the weapon flew harmlessly by me. But Gamon was already moving, pulling something else out of her endless bag of tricks. And I didn’t have time for this.

  The throwing star sprang to life behind me and came hurtling back the other direction, this time toward Gamon. Only I didn’t waste time with one, I manifested a hundred. One hundred spinning blades flew across the space, straight for her. She shouted with pure delight and lifted her arms, the sleeves of her long hoodie apparently reinforced with some sort of body armor. As she deflected the first of the blades, a roar sounded over us, and once more, the space was filled with the flapping, squawking creatures.

  “You can’t fight me, Sara,” Gamon said as I twisted away from the first wave of the hellspawns’ attack. “I will always be better at direct combat than you are. You have to strike like a witch in the night and be gone again for you to have a chance.”

  I didn’t have time to argue with her as the hellspawn circled back around. I didn’t know what these things were precisely. I didn’t know if they were real, illusions, or conjured bits of magic. But when the first one raked a claw in front of my face, clipping my temple, I struck. This time not to scare them, this time not to create a buffer and block them away. I set them on fire. There was one second, maybe two of a long, terrifying chorus of screams, and then they winked out, gone. Across the room, Gamon once more appeared as her real self. She grinned at me with fierce, feral joy.

  “Congratulations,” she said, up on her toes. “That was lesson one. It’s only going to get harder from here.”

  “Great,” I muttered.

  She raced toward me.

  14

  The night was dark, and a surprisingly stiff breeze kicked up as I walked along the shadowed drive to the sprawling mansion at the edge of Las Vegas. Technically, this had been my headquarters when I had been head of the House of Swords. I’d given up that role when I became Justice of the Arcana Council, but for a few short months, I had been in charge of one of the world’s largest syndicates of Connecteds, a syndicate that had, prior to my arrival, been dedicated to a questionable mishmash of arcane black market drug trafficking and money laundering. I had handed over the reins to Danae, a take-no-prisoners witch whose coven, known as the Deathwalkers, had been based in Chicago. Given the location, and never one to let a good moniker go to waste, Danae had also been known as the Witch of the Iron Sea. After my crash course in djinn magic, where I learned that iron was one of the few things that could stop a djinn in its tracks, she seemed like a good person to talk to.

  I was here for another reason as well, and when Danae stepped into a shaft of moonlight, gesturing me to the side of the building, I knew she’d been expecting me. She was as stunning tonight as ever, her dark skin incandescent in the reflected solar lights that lined the walkway, her sleek dark hair swept off her face. She was dressed in a flowing white shift, simple and elegant at once, and she didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. I appreciated her combination of strength and serenity, and felt a surge of pride that this was whom I’d chosen to run the House of Swords. Danae was more than a capable leader. She was a highly skilled witch, a true Connected. The House of Swords deserved no less.

  We strolled around the back of the mansion, where two figures sat huddled together near a large open fire. They talked quietly until a sharp crack of a laugh burst out.

  “Ma-Singh, you have got to get out more. That is absolutely not how Snapchat works, and you should stay as far away from it as possible.”

  Danae’s number one general, the Mongolian Ma-Singh, rumbled a heavy, accepting laugh, then both he and Nikki turned as Danae and I walked up. There were no other members of the House of Swords at the house tonight, save for a skeleton security crew. And those warriors were all inside. What I needed to talk to Danae about required no audience. I wasn’t even sure of how to inform her.

  She didn’t give me much of a chance to struggle through it. She picked up a glass of wine and handed it to me, then secured her own. I squinted down at it.

  “I’m kind of more of a scotch girl,” I said.

  “Tonight, you will drink wine,” she replied, her tone brooking no argument.

  “Okay, so tonight I’m going to drink wine.”

  I raised the glass to her, but she turned to Nikki and handed the glass to her, the two of them jostling a bit in the process. Nikki eyed the wine dubiously as Danae gave a third glass to Ma-Singh, then took a fourth for herself.

  “Never was one to turn down an opportunity for a fine, ah, whatever this is,” Nikki said gamely. Ma-Singh lifted his glass as well, widening his stance on his size-sixteen feet. The Mongolian warrior had been one of my staunchest supporters when I served as the head of this house, and he remained Danae’s most stalwart general.

  Danae finally turned to me and lifted her glass. “The House of Swords pledges itself and all its resources to you, Sara. We are here to serve as your sword and your shield.”

  By the time she finished her short speech, I was gaping at her. I shot Nikki a look, but she shook her head. Talk about beating me to the punch.

  Danae lifted her glass higher, and for once, I had no quippy reply or sarcastic retort. Not with both her and Ma-Singh watching me with such unexpected earnestness. I lifted my glass in return.

  “I accept your help, Danae. I hope I don’t need it, but I suspect I will. I thank you for it.”

  Ma-Singh and Nikki lifted their glasses as well, and all four of us tipped the goblets toward each other. The move seemed almost ceremonial, not merely a collegial toast over an open firepit, and when the four glasses touched, I could feel the spark of magic erupt at the center. I glanced downward and realized we were standing in a sacred circle, then lifted my gaze again to Danae. She looked at me with more satisfaction than I’d ever seen on her face.

  “I thought that was going to be more difficult. You’ve changed, Sara.”

  I grimaced, not even trying to understand the pinky-swear ceremony we’d apparently just completed. “It’s been kind of a heavy week.”

  As Danae lifted her glass to her lips to take a sip, I followed suit. The wine was rich, heavy, and aromatic, a mixture of spices adding a distinct edge to it. I swallowed and gave her a rueful smile. “But I’m not sure if my changing is a good or bad thing.”

  “It’s a good thing,” Ma-Singh interjected. “A needful thing. We cannot stand on the edge of war forever. The Shadow Court must pay.”

  “Ma-Singh,” Danae said quietly, but he shook his head, his grip tightening on his glass.

  “They went after Sariah believing she was Sara. They have no right to disrespect us so deeply. They’ve been living like slugs under a rock for so long, they’ve forgotten proper manners. It’s time that we taught them.”

  There was an undercurrent of rage to his words that startled me. Ma-Singh was an excellent general and not given to theatrics. He was also a true protector. He took the attack on Sariah personally, even though he was no longer in charge of my personal protection. I appreciated that. More than that, I needed him.

  “Until I require you personally, Ma-Singh, if it comes to that, I
have a favor to ask,” I said.

  Ma-Singh nodded brusquely, once again anticipating my words. “I will keep watch over Sariah. She will not rest if she thinks she can spur the Court to further action. Her blood runs too hot.”

  I sighed. “That’s certainly true.” Now more than ever. I didn’t know how long it would take Sariah to recover from her trauma, but knowing that Ma-Singh would be there when she woke up, and would keep her from haring off without him, made what I had to do next more manageable. I met Danae’s gaze. “I’m going to Dubai,” I said bluntly. “I don’t understand what’s waiting for me. I was hoping you could explain it to me. In detail. Using small words.”

  She nodded, taking another sip of her wine. “The djinn are waiting for you. Summoned by I know not who. We’ve been trying to figure that out since Eshe was taken in Pompeii. We cannot. Which should not be the case.”

  She turned toward the open desert beyond the house and stared out into the starlit sky. “Since our earliest records, the coven of the Iron Sea has kept a detailed history of interactions within the community, both contemporaneous and those as far back as we can get our hands on. Whenever it occurred, the summoning of the djinn took on a very different experience than the typical calling of demons.”

  “You mean they had to use different spells?”

  “No, the summoning process itself was not so dissimilar. There was inevitably a secret circle, specific glyphs or designs etched inside the circle, and a series of spells. But the nature of the creature summoned is where things varied. The old story of Aladdin and his magic lamp is not completely untrue. Djinn would typically not perform one act of service, like most demons, but three. It would be bound to its summoner until the completion of the third task. At that point, the summoner was obligated to return the djinn to its original vessel, or, if the summoner was feeling sufficiently generous, to release it altogether. Naturally, the djinn worked very hard to complete any requests to the summoner’s satisfaction, with the hope that they would then be released from their bound vessel. Generally speaking, this arrangement rarely ended up favoring the djinn. If the djinn had been caught in the first place and confined to a vessel, it implied that they were dangerous or very powerful, and most summoners rightfully assumed that they would be the target of revenge for having availed themselves of the djinn’s services under duress.”

  “Gotcha.” I joined her in pondering the starry horizon. “And no djinn can be summoned unless they are already trapped inside one of these vessels? That’s the game?”

  Danae smiled. “A very good question and a very important answer. You’re correct. You cannot summon a djinn who hasn’t already been conquered in some way. This particular type of demon coexists in many situations with ordinary humans, who may have no idea of the djinn’s true nature. Stories abound of people running afoul of angry djinn, people who have mistakenly harmed a member of the djinn’s family or trampled over their lands, never realizing these lands had been claimed by a supernatural being. Sometimes the djinn are invisible, which makes it yet more difficult. Other times, they have families, jobs, positions in the community. There’s no telling, unless you’re a witch, who is who.”

  An errant thought occurred to me. “What about Eshe? She’s a priestess, not a witch, and I know there’s a difference. But would she be able to tell who is djinn and who isn’t?”

  Danae considered the question. “I don’t know. Ordinarily, the answer would be no if she hadn’t been trained as a witch, but her training predates my own by two thousand years, so I can’t rightfully say. And further, she’s a member of the Arcana Council. That also compounds her abilities.”

  “Could I identify a djinn?” I asked. I could pick up on demons, but generally only if they were kind enough to show me their little beady red eyes.

  She smiled. “I suspect the answer to that would be no. You might well suspect the being in front of you was Connected, but whether you could make the jump to the next level is questionable.” She nodded slightly. “So, yes. Of course, I’m going with you to Dubai.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, my hands coming up. “That’s not part of the plan. I can’t show up to meet Sheikh Ahmad with both you and Nikki tagging along. We’re not Charlie’s Angels here.”

  “Sweet Mary, we would be awesome as Charlie’s Angels.” Nikki cackled. “Talk about an instant global hit. Who would be Charlie? I mean, it’s got to be Armadelicious, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Not the Magician,” Ma-Singh grunted, his heavy voice oddly serious. “It would need to be the Devil. The Magician would act himself, not send in proxies. The Devil is subtler.”

  “Why are we having this conversation?” I protested, then pointed my glass at Danae. “You shouldn’t come with us. It’s too dangerous. I need to go in, get Eshe, then figure out what it is the Shadow Court is trying to pull and stop them. But if Ahmad is truly hooked up with the Court, things could go bad in a hurry.”

  Danae lifted her brows, the height of haughty cool. “All the more reason I should be by your side. We have not been idle these past months that you’ve given me the leadership of the House of Swords. We knew a conflict was coming. We just didn’t know when. I’ve been in contact with the other houses. They, much like the Council, have adopted a wait-and-see attitude.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, remembering Gamon’s concerns—and the complaints in Justice Hall. “Anything else I should know? Unofficially, of course?”

  Danae hesitated, but Ma-Singh didn’t. “There’s been a return to the ways of darkness,” he said gruffly. “Cups. Pents. Wands too, but not in trafficking technoceuticals. The House of Wands has begun to serve as enforcers for the other houses. There’s been a stockpiling of resources and an upgrade of weapons. The houses are girding for a very ugly war.”

  I pursed my lips, but I didn’t need to ask what actions Danae had taken.

  “Swords are ever and always first about action,” she answered anyway. “Due to your involvement in our House, we have gained standing and resources. Now we stand with you, Justice Wilde, as your house will always stand with you, regardless of your elevated station. And not just us. There are Connecteds all over the world who have stayed in contact with us since the battle of magic. They wait, some eagerly, and some dangerously so, for the call to action.”

  She gestured to herself with her glass. “I represent them and serve also as their proxy. If they see me with you, which you can believe they will, it will give them hope, as well as a warning that they too should sharpen their swords.”

  This was Sariah all over again. The worry in my gut tightened with every new stanza of Danae’s battle song, until by the end, I wanted to throw my glass at her.

  “Danae, with respect, think about what you’re saying here. The Shadow Court isn’t screwing around. They quartered and deep-fried Sariah, and I don’t know how long it’s going to take her to come back from that. I need to take them out.”

  “We need to take them out.” I didn’t miss the excitement in Ma-Singh’s voice. I wasn’t the only one who wanted to fight these asshats. They had caused a great many people trouble, not just me. I needed to remember that.

  “But in a highly specific way,” I countered. “This isn’t the time to have a cast of thousands running across the open field, screaming their fool heads off. This is an operation, not a war.”

  “Even better.” Danae shrugged. “I will still be at your side as a witch who can identify both the djinn and the horde, and as a witch who knows what to do with both of them. Freeing you to lead our party to the fullest extent of your abilities, for which you will be well prepared.”

  There was something in her voice that pulled me up short, a sort of smug superiority that implied she’d just pulled a fast one on me. I wasn’t sure how that was possible, but I narrowed my eyes.

  “Prepared how?” I said. “We don’t have a lot of time. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Council didn’t try to clip my wings in some way if they thought I was acting out of turn.
”

  Nikki snorted. “They wouldn’t dare,” she said, but she sauntered over to the fire and sat down beside it. Ma-Singh took a seat as well, and Nikki reached for the bottle of wine. “This didn’t suck to start, and sucks less the more I drink it,” she observed.

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “You seem like you’re ready to kick up your feet and stay awhile.”

  “Oh yeah,” she said. “I figured I’d enjoy the show.”

  She looked at me meaningfully, and my mind flashed to the image of her taking her glass from Danae. The two women had brushed hands briefly, and with Nikki’s particular skills…

  “What?” I asked, suddenly on edge. “What do you know?”

  “She knows that you’re long overdue for a refresher course.”

  I barely avoided yelping as I jerked out of the way of the newest arrival to our little party. The woman who stepped out of the shadows was small, of indeterminate age, and possessed a voice like iron. She also caused a deeply violent, visceral reaction in me. Sweat beaded down my spine, and I set my jaw. Carefully. “Sensei Chichiro,” I allowed.

  “Justice Wilde.” She nodded back, the soul of deference.

  My one-time Connected martial arts instructor wore traditional Japanese robes tied with an obi, and her hands were folded demurely in front of her, her dark eyes fixed on me in the flickering light. I hadn’t seen her since before the great war of magic, where she’d attempted to inspire me to up my abilities. She’d been successful, too. Because of her, I was able not only to transfer an image from my mind to reality, but also to multiply that same image a hundred times over. The magical cuffs of Justice or the throwing stars with Gamon had been the most recent examples of that skill, but it had come in handy many times.