Master of None (38 page)

Privacy was a moot point, but I still looked away from them. All the better to concentrate on my own impending demise. And Jazz—what I wouldn’t give to make the same deal with Trevor that Ian had with Lenka. Anything to let her live. Everything I had. Unfortunately, one hundred percent of nothing was still nothing.

At least Cyrus wasn’t here. I assumed he’d been left with Lark, since I knew Akila wouldn’t have deserted him in the djinn realm. Maybe Lark would make a better father than me.

“Donatti.”

Jazz pulled me back to reality. I met her eyes with a questioning expression. God, she was beautiful.

“Know what you’re thinking,” she said.

Smiling hurt, but I did it anyway. “No, you don’t.”

“He’s safe.”

“I know.” So that was it. She thought I blamed her for putting Cyrus in danger. But it was her I worried about. Much as I’d really rather not die, she had more to lose. More to regret. She wouldn’t get to see Cyrus grow up. He would spend his life in hiding with Lark or, more likely, in a string of orphanages and foster homes and stretches of hard-scrabble solitude. Like father, like son.

The thought wrenched my gut. Growing up alone never did me any favors. It wasn’t the life I wanted for him. But at least he would be around to live it.

Jazz hung her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” I waited until she looked at me. “Don’t be,” I insisted. “None of this is your fault, Jazz.
I’m
sorry . . .”
For leaving when you needed me. For dragging you into this. For getting you killed.
“. . . For everything.”

Her lips twitched. “I love you. Just so you know.”

“Love doesn’t cover it for me,” I said. “I . . . worship you. Always have.”

“Now you tell me.”

“Better late than never.”

Jazz glanced at the nearest gun-toting thug. “This is pretty fucking late.”

“Still have ten minutes.”

“Enough,” Trevor said from somewhere behind me. “You’ve had your moment. Now, stay quiet, unless you want to start screaming again.”

Jazz clamped her lips together. Her eyes glittered with restrained emotion, but I couldn’t tell whether she was about to cry or laugh.

I knew which one I’d choose.

Despite my intense desire to spend the rest of my shrinking life in my head, away from reality, my brain insisted on assessment. A good thief always had a backup plan. I didn’t at the moment, but years of necessary resourcefulness insisted there had to be a way out of this. An alternative escape route, a window I’d missed. An outcome that was less final than death.

Nothing came to mind. But I did feel different. The agony racing through my body had throttled back to mere excruciating pain. I could speak without sounding as if my mouth was full of marbles. My mutilated fingertips zinged with pins and needles.

I glanced at the hand tied to the arm of the chair. One of my nails had grown back.

Ian.
It had to be him—but how? He barely had enough power to stay conscious. I looked over his way. Akila still stood in front of him, and it seemed they’d lapsed into the part of good-bye that didn’t need words. But I thought I saw his fingers move. Just a little.

I had to conclude that he thought there was still a chance. Damned if I knew what that chance was, though.

T
ORY
DIDN’T WALK BACK THROUGH THE MIRROR
. H
E
FELL
through and landed facedown on the floor with one arm outstretched. His fingers curled loosely around Ian’s tether.

Lenka snatched it from him before the mirror’s surface had returned to normal.

We’d all been returned to our designated death stations. For some reason, Trevor had dismissed the thugs. Maybe he thought they were too stupid to witness death by magic, but
I didn’t think it would faze them. Murder was murder. And they’d already seen Lenka’s ugly mug.

I’d gained another nail. Compared with thirty minutes or so ago, I felt downright perky. For all the good it’d do me.

Lenka prodded Tory’s limp form with a toe and nodded in Trevor’s direction. “Make sure he does not interfere.”

“Gladly.” Trevor stepped up and emptied the rest of the gun into Tory’s back.

Both women screamed. Jazz’s cry was peppered with choice names for Trevor—half of them too dirty to scrawl on a bathroom wall. I wished I could join them, but I was too pissed off to open my mouth.

Silence settled like dust over the wake of the violent outburst. I made a mental sketch of our conditions, still trying to thwart the inevitable. Had to scratch Tory from the list of possibilities. Shamil—or what was left of him—hadn’t stirred since Trevor shot him. Ian remained somewhat alert, but he was bleeding like a wet newspaper. Grief had paralyzed Akila; fury did the same for Jazz.

That left me. So we were out of luck.

Lenka drew the dagger and lodged the sheath on the back end of the handle. “I almost desire to find this another trick,” he said. “It would extend my enjoyment. However, I suspect you have run out of surprises.” He approached Ian, wiped the flat of the blade across his bloodied chest, and repeated the gesture with the other side. Streaks of golden light shone through the crimson coating near the base of the blade. Ian’s symbol.

Akila gave a desperate sob. Lenka grinned.

“Do not trouble yourself,
rayani
.” He gazed almost fondly at the dagger and watched until the glowing symbol faded.
“Once we have taken the realm, I will allow you to remain in my court. You will become my favored
hag’gar
.”

Something in my head spit a loose translation—
sex toy
—an instant before Ian’s guttural curse confirmed the Morai’s intent.

“I would sooner take my own life,” Akila said. “You will not have me.”

Lenka’s twisted smile vanished. “The choice is not yours. If you do not give yourself of your will, I shall take it from you.”

“You will not have the opportunity, Lenka.” Ian trailed off to harsh, wracking coughs. When the spell abated, he rasped, “You cannot take the realm.”

“Two score strong we are, and a hundred times that in human fodder.” Lenka sneered. “Kemosiri and his bloated, simpering Council will fall within a fortnight. The moment your life ends, our rule begins. Over both realms.”

I shuddered. Given free rein, even a handful of djinn could take over the world—and we pathetic humans couldn’t do a damn thing to stop them.

“Well, then,” Ian said evenly. “Why do you still wait? You hold the key to your kingdom in your hand.”

Lenka glanced at the bloodied dagger. “I did swear to destroy you quickly, Gahiji-an,” he said, wiping the blade clean again on his own robe. “So be it.”

Ian straightened as much as possible within the ropes. “Thank you.”

“What?”

“It is about time.” A constant tremor threaded Ian’s voice, as if it took everything he had to push the words out. “I thought you would never destroy me. I welcome death at your hands.”

“What trickery is this?” Lenka roared. “You cannot be grateful, you pathetic wretch.”

Ian returned his glare without blinking. “You murdered my father. You have wiped out my entire clan. What better way for me to join them? And you have already sworn to destroy me, so you cannot stop now. Send me home, Lenka.”

“No.” Lenka sputtered. “I will not allow . . . wait.” He stared at the dagger and turned in a slow half-circle. His blood-red eyes settled on me. “
You
will finish him.”

Ian snarled the protest that refused to leave my clenched throat.

“Yes. It is beautiful. What is it you humans say? Ironic.” Lenka spoke in a soft, deadly cadence. “Ah, Gahiji-an. You have trained your pet to destroy me, and now it will be used against you.”

My voice returned. I started to refuse, but a look from Ian stopped me. He wanted me to do it. Was it the principle of the thing or something else?

Lenka advanced, holding the gleaming copper blade in front of him like a shield. The dagger captured my reflection in miniature, throwing my pitiful condition back in my face. My mind seized the image. And a single, absolutely insane idea stole my breath.

“I see this troubles you.” Lenka flashed his fangs. “I would suggest you consider this an honorable gesture, but thieves do not hold honor in regard.” He touched my ropes. They loosened and slithered away. “On your feet.”

With shaking legs and a heart that threatened to hammer my ribcage apart, I complied. I might have found a window, but even Houdini would have trouble squeezing through this one.

It wasn’t hard to feign complete weakness. I dropped to one knee and let the dagger fall from my hand. Groaned, picked it up. “Think I’ll stay here.” I gasped.

“Get on with it,” Lenka snapped. “And do not attempt to play the hero, or your woman will die slowly.”

I gritted my teeth. His implication was clear. Slowly, as opposed to quickly after I killed Ian. “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “Couldn’t stab a marshmallow now.”

I drew the blade across my palm, wincing at the fresh pain. Utter silence mocked my ridiculous attempt at a plan. I couldn’t let Lenka hear me. Ian’s distraction act would’ve been useful right about now. Hell, I’d even take a fan or a ticking clock. Or an argument. Maybe I could start one.

“Hey, Jazz,” I said softly. “Remember Philly?”

A puzzled expression flitted across her face. Anger chased it away.

“Actually, I do,” she snapped. “You owe me half a million dollars, Trevor.”

I struggled to keep my pride from showing. We’d done the bullshit-argument bit to slip away from the heat on a gig in
Philadelphia, and she’d taken the bluff crown without breaking a sweat. Whatever she was leading up to, she’d pulled it out of her ass.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Trevor said.

“You know damned well what I mean. The Benz deal.”

“
What?
”

“I delivered a carrier full of Benz to your back-ass chop shop, and he wrote me a rubber check. You owe me.”

She’d picked the right fakeout. Trevor rarely bothered running checks on his chops.

“Idiot! What does that matter now?” Trevor shouted. He moved toward me, probably intending to kick me or zap me with the Taser again.

Lenka scowled at him. “Do not interfere. The thief has a task to perform.”

“He’s right, you slimy son of a bitch.” Jazz bared her teeth. “Maybe it doesn’t matter, but if you’re going to kill everybody and their grandmother, you could at least pay up first.”

The shouting continued. I tried to tune it out. Keeping the dagger as close to me as possible, I used a torn finger to smear Ian’s symbol near the bottom of the blade. I concentrated on the memory of the shining coin Trevor had swallowed and whispered, “
Insha no imil, kubri ana bi-sur’u wasta.
” When no one shot me or set me on fire, I figured they hadn’t noticed.

The surface of the dagger facing me rippled. Copper darkened and showed vague suggestions of shadowed, glistening flesh. Hello, Trevor’s intestines.

“Silence!” Lenka’s roar threatened to shatter my concentration. I clung to my intentions hard enough to manifest them physically. Sweat drenched my forehead and rolled into my eyes. “It should not take you this long, thief,” Lenka said.
“You have sixty seconds before she loses the first finger.”

No time for a smart-ass remark. Nodding as if I’d just lost my last nerve, I wrapped my sliced hand around the tapered end of the blade and slipped my cut and still bleeding index finger through the base end. So cold. I glanced at Trevor. A slight frown surfaced on his face, and he rubbed once at his stomach. But he didn’t seem overly concerned.

I curled my finger around carefully until I felt the edge of the coin. Focused everything I had on it. And forced myself to meet Ian’s eyes.

“
Ana lo ‘ahmar nar, fik lo imshi, aakhir kalaam.
”

A band of pain clamped around my finger where it still stuck through the surface of the knife. I wasn’t sure if I’d done the spell right. Either the bridge was closing, or I’d destroyed Ian’s tether instead of Lenka’s. I tried to pull my hand back, and the copper blade solidified—taking my finger off clean at the first knuckle, newly grown nail and all.

I wasn’t the only one in pain, though.

Trevor’s eyes opened so wide I didn’t think they’d stay in his skull much longer. He crossed both hands over his stomach and opened his mouth. Blood poured out and drenched his chest, his arms. He fell hard on his knees. A few wisps of smoke drifted from between his fingers. He toppled to one side like a warped domino.

Horror replaced the triumphant smirk on Lenka’s face. He managed a single step, a single word, before his hands and feet burst into flames. Real ones, not illusions. The fire raced along his limbs, transforming his flesh into showers of ash as it went. Although his legs burned and crumbled, the rest of him stayed in place. Finally, nothing but a core remained. A floating fireball. It grew bigger, surged bright and hot. And exploded.

Sparks filled the room, covering everything. It was like standing inside the grand finale at a fireworks display, without the ear-shattering booms and third-degree burns. The bright flecks faded into shimmering air and then calm.

This time, I welcomed the silence. It let me hear my ragged breathing and galloping heart. Good indicators that I wasn’t dead.

“Like to see you magic
that
away, you twisted fuck,” I muttered.

The floor beckoned to me. I accepted the invitation.

“GAVYN.”

What?
I tried to say. Wasn’t sure if I actually managed to speak. I tried again. My lips didn’t seem to move.

“
Gavyn.
”

“Jazz,” I whispered—or thought I did. My throat vibrated. Had any sound come out? I needed a drink. And a transfusion. Maybe some nice drugs . . .

Someone made a choked sound. Probably not me. An arm slid under me and guided me up. Two went around me. Something warm and wet dripped on my shoulder.

I pried my eyes open. “Ow.”

“Oh, God.” Jazz pulled back. Tears bathed her face. Why was she crying? My muzzy brain seemed to think we’d won. Or something. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to hurt you. I just thought . . . well, you looked dead.”