Master and Apprentice (17 page)

“Ian.” I moved to stand and fell back on my ass. On the second try I managed to gain my footing, but my legs wavered and carried me backward—not the direction I’d intended. “Ian,” I repeated. “Can you get up?”

The wolf’s eyes opened. His head lifted, and a steady growl rumbled deep in his throat. Black lips peeled back from curving ivory fangs. He rose on his haunches, the growl spiraling into a prolonged snarl.

With a vicious bark, Ian sprang straight at me.

I
went down under Ian’s weight. Powerful jaws snapped shut inches from my face. I threw an arm up—and Ian sank his teeth into it.

A buzzing white noise filled my head. Dimly, I heard Jazz scream at Tory. Something about getting Ian off me or she’d shoot him some more. But I understood what he was doing. I tried to wave my free hand, to let her know I was all right. I wasn’t sure if I succeeded in moving.

Blood magic. A disgusting but effective way to amplify power outside of having a handy descendant. Good for any clan vile or desperate enough to use it. Drink the blood of a djinn—or part djinn—and get a temporary mojo boost. Ian didn’t have enough power to transform back from his wolf state, so he’d gone for my blood.

One of these days, I was going to bite him back. Just for the hell of it.

Ian wrenched his fangs free. A rough tongue lapped the wounds he’d made, and I swallowed bile at the awful sensation. “You son of a bitch. Warn me next time,” I said. “Had enough, or should I go find a razor and open up a vein?”

The wolf backed off me, growling. Light rippled along his spine and spread to swallow him. It faded and left Ian on hands and knees, head bowed, gasping like an asthmatic after a mile run. “Akila,” he said between pants. “She is injured.”

“Ian …” I sat up, wishing there was something big and impenetrable between us. Like the heart of an African jungle. Tory’s reaction had been a Fourth of July sparkler compared to the erupting volcano Ian was about to become. “Those guys didn’t come here for you.”

His head came up slowly. A jagged red scar blazed a path down his cheek where the bullet had opened his face. Barely controlled fury burned from his eyes. “Explain.”

Chills raced through me at the sight of him. I knew there were some things djinn magic couldn’t heal in this realm, but I didn’t think that included gunshot wounds. “Lynus said they wanted you left alive. Whoever they are. But—”

“Akila.” The word was at once demand and broken plea.

I closed my eyes. “They took her.”

He said nothing. I dared to look at him, and wondered if he’d somehow slid back to near death without falling over. He’d stopped moving. Stopped breathing. His eyes were on me, but they weren’t seeing anything.

“Ian, listen. I overheard a few things that I think will help. If we take a little time to regroup—”

“You.” He pushed up to his knees, and his hands clenched in tight fists. “You let them take her.”

“Whoa. Hold on a minute. I didn’t—”

“Why did you not stop them?” His voice rose, coarse and heavy. He struggled to stand. “We must bring her back. She is not … gods curse you, thief ! How could you let them?”

“You bastard.” If Ian’s tether had been at my fingertips, I might’ve destroyed him right then. “There were five of them,
and one of me. They had guns. What the fuck was I supposed to do? And you didn’t exactly stand in their way either.”

“You were not immediately injured. You could have protected her. Even if you were shot, you could have been healed.”

“Goddamn it, Ian, I’m human!” It took all the willpower I had left not to break his jaw. “If I get shot in the wrong place, I don’t get a do-over. I just die.”

“You still should have stopped them!”

“That’s enough, Gahiji-an.” Tory stepped up beside me and fixed Ian with a warning stare. “He did everything he could. He was just about dead when I got here.”

Ian blinked. “Taregan? How … we must find her. She is in danger.”

“We’re all in danger.” Pissed as I was, I decided to let it go for now. Ian dropping the blame game was the only apology I’d get. “There’s a hell of a lot more than five of those bastards. Besides the guards we saw first, at least a dozen crowded in there toward the end.”

“Damn,” Tory said. “Are they all scions?”

“I’m not sure. But we should probably assume they are.” I glanced back to see how Jazz was taking this. Cyrus lay slack in her arms, and she paced in slow half circles with him, ostensibly ignoring us. The set line of her jaw said she was listening anyway, and not liking what she heard. “We know there’s at least one full-blood Morai.”

Ian spat a curse. “Khalyn.”

“Yeah. Him.” I couldn’t decide who I was more furious with—Calvin for being a damned good liar, or Ian for being right. Part of me realized that I should’ve been angry at myself. After all, I’d been dumb enough to fall for the monk routine.

I ignored the internal debate and gave Tory the short
version of our encounter on the mountain. “Calvin said he was going back to the monastery,” I said after the explanation. “Said he had business to attend to, or something.”

“I do not care what that lying snake does. I am going to get my wife.” Ian took two steps and went down on a knee. He gasped, and started to crawl across the floor. “The mirror. What happened?”

“Ian, stop!” I moved in front of him. “I had to break it. They were keeping the bridge open somehow.”

He slung an arm over the edge of the couch and pushed to his feet again. “We will use mine, then,” he panted. “I assume you have not broken that as well.”

“We’re not going anywhere right now.”

“We must! Akila—”

“—is going to have to wait. I’m sorry, Ian.” My own words felt like they were coming from someone else. Someone a lot smarter than me. I’d never been the voice of reason. “You can’t even stand up. I’m not much better. And there’s no way we can take on a two-thousand-year-old djinn in this shape, much less who knows how many descendants. She’ll make it, as long as they don’t have her tether. Right?”

A visible shudder wracked Ian’s body. He didn’t reply.

“Right, Ian?” I repeated, knowing damned well he’d heard me.

He closed his eyes. “They do have her tether.”

“What?”

“When she crossed to this realm, she had no time to prepare.” He shivered again, and leaned hard on the couch. “She was forced to bind herself to something close at hand.” A harsh bark of laughter escaped him. “Very close.”

“No.” Tory blanched, at once looking just as bad as Ian. “Please tell me she didn’t …”

Ian touched his index finger. The band of gold light pulsed
in response. “Akila’s tether is with her always,” he said. “She is bound to her ring.”

Under strenuous protest, Tory half-carried Ian off to the guest bedroom for a short rest, and to try healing him a little more.

And I prepared to make Jazz hate me.

When we had the wrecked living room to ourselves, she laid Cyrus down on the couch and let out a sigh. “He’s getting heavy,” she said.

“Yeah. He’s a solid little guy.” I moved toward her, wanting to hold her, afraid she’d slap me if I tried. I’d already fucked up her life beyond repair, and I was about to make things worse. I had no idea how to start telling her she had to leave her own place. Leave me. Maybe for good.

“Gavyn.” Her voice was flat, her expression wooden. “There’s a dead body in my house.”

I had to look away from her. “Actually, there’re two,” I said. “The other one’s upstairs by the bedroom.”

“You killed two of them?”

“No. That one popped a poison cap to keep Tory from torturing him for information.” I gestured at the feet protruding from behind the television. “But I shot the one upstairs.”

“You actually killed someone.”

“Jesus Christ! Yes, I did. It’s official. I’m a murderer.” I didn’t feel any better admitting it the second time. “I had to. He would’ve killed me … and then you and Cy.”

Jazz crossed her arms as if she were cold. “What do we do now?” she whispered.

“Now, you take Cyrus and get the hell out of here.”

The words left my mouth before I realized my intention of saying them. She stared at me. Her eyes glittered, and her
lips thinned. “And do what, exactly?” she said. “Live in the goddamn truck?”

I refused to register the sarcasm in her voice. “Stay with Lark. Tory’s got a shitload of protection on that place, and these assholes don’t know he’s involved.”

“Stay with Lark,” she echoed in a tone that suggested I was dumber than a dirt sandwich. “Just show up at his door and say hey, Lark, me and my kid are gonna live with you while the other guys go get themselves killed. That about right?”

“I’ll call and tell him you’re coming.” She was being logical again. I couldn’t let myself pay attention to the facts, because djinn affairs tended to overrule the real world. Jazz always had trouble factoring that into the equation. “You need to go. I don’t know how long it’ll take them to find this place again.”

“This is my house. I’m not letting a bunch of thugs drive me out.”

“Damn it, Jazz, they’re not garden-variety goons!” I knew she could be just as stubborn as Ian when she wanted to, but this time I couldn’t let her win. No way in hell I was going to end up saying
I told you so
to her tombstone. “Being a badass doesn’t make you bulletproof. Or magic proof.”

Her jaw twitched. “They aren’t bulletproof either. I shoot them, they die.”

“How are you going to shoot something you can’t see? Something you don’t even know is there? What about when they cast a lockdown on you?” Desperation flattened my voice. If I thought it’d help, I would’ve gone on my knees and begged. But I knew her pride, her need for independence. She wouldn’t go just because I asked.

I had to make her want to leave.
Need
to leave. If it was her decision, she’d stick to it.

“All right, genius.” Anger sizzled through her, practically sparking along the rigid lines of her body. “Say we go to Lark’s place. Then what? We wait for you to die, and come back here, and maybe these freaks come after Cyrus? Or maybe you think you’ve actually got a shot at wiping out the whole circus, and then everything goes back to the fucked-up mess we keep pretending is normal.”

“Hey, keeping me around was your idea, remember? I told you it wouldn’t work. This is what I do now, so deal with it.” Christ, I couldn’t believe this shit was actually coming out of my mouth. “And we’ve got a better shot without you and the kid hanging around.”

For just an instant, her shield lowered and I caught the devastation in her eyes. I’d been expecting that—but it hurt more than I could have imagined. It would’ve been easier to withstand a week of constant torture and starvation than to take that look, the pain and the betrayal in it, knowing I’d intentionally caused it.

And I couldn’t stop.

“You’re just in the way.” Somehow I managed to keep my voice from shaking. “You can’t compete at this level. You’ll never be able to. All you can do is slow me down.” Every word I spoke was a knife that turned back on me and slashed a new wound. But I couldn’t let her see me bleed. I had to convince her I meant this bullshit. “You’re useless here. Get out.”

She didn’t respond for so long, I thought I’d taken it too far. Finally, the controlled vacancy broke into fury. “Big, bad Donatti,” she said with a sneer. “You know, I expected a line about having to protect Cy. But this is shitty even for you.”

“Since when is being honest shitty?”
Damn it, just go.
“You said it yourself. You don’t understand this magic stuff.”

“No, I don’t.” She glared at me—no tears, no trace of hurt.

No forgiveness. “You know what else I don’t understand? Why I ever …”

My breath caught. I had to force the sharp intake into a longer draw, push my expression from anticipated pain into disgust. If she finished that sentence, I was done. Game over. I couldn’t bear to hear her say the words she always left out now, to have her take them back without even giving them to me first.

“Forget it.” She stalked over to the couch, picked up Cy, and carried him to the door. “You and your goddamned conscience have fun. If you don’t get killed, maybe we’ll be at Lark’s when you’re done. And maybe we won’t. I’m through promising anything to you.”

She didn’t slam the door shut.

The soft snick of the latch felt more final than a bang. An explosive end, an exclamation point to her declaration, and there would’ve been a chance for the heat to die down. For emotions to clear and hint at the truth I hadn’t been able to give her. But this was a period. A quiet confirmation that while I’d bullshitted her, she hadn’t erected a similar front. Her good-bye was real.

I managed to wait until the Hummer’s engine started before I dropped to the floor and wept.

B
ereft. People tossed that word around at funerals and fires and other disasters. A sense of loss, an empty ache. It didn’t begin to cover what I felt. If Jazz and Cy had died, this would’ve been easier to take. Knowing I’d improved their chances of survival was about as comforting as a drop of water on a third-degree burn.

“You were right to drive her away.”

The sound of Ian’s voice produced instant irritation, despite the genuine concern it contained. I kept from lashing out at him by reminding myself that his woman was gone too—and nowhere near safe. But I still didn’t feel like having a heart-to-heart with him. “Drop it,” I said without moving. “We’ve got other concerns.”

“Very well.”

I got up, thankful that at least I’d stopped blubbering, and turned around silently, daring either of them to make a smart-ass comment. Not a word. Ian stood more or less steady, not leaning on anything but ready to drop anyway, and Tory slouched a few paces behind him. They both looked like I felt. Worn down harder than a neighborhood football.

And we were still going after these bastards. Brilliant strategy. It was like David and Goliath—if David had a broken leg, wore a blindfold, and hadn’t slept for a week before he went to the valley. Hell, we didn’t even have a lousy slingshot.

“We’ve got to ditch the bodies before we take off,” I said. “The rest of this mess’ll have to wait. So I guess we bury them. Tory, can you—”