Authors: Sonya Bateman
“Lark’s idea,” Tory said. “Absolute, irrefutable proof. I had it going the whole time we were in there. That asshole won’t be able to find a loophole now.”
I had to laugh. “Lark, you would be the one to introduce technology where it has no place. Next thing you know, all the djinn will start carrying cell phones.”
“Do not count on it. We are slow to adapt.” Smiling, Ian moved to the mirror and did his thing. Shamil came up beside him. Ian stood aside and clasped his shoulder. “I will contact you soon to hear the Council’s decision. Luck be with you, brother.”
“And with you,
rayan.
” Shamil bent at the waist and stepped through the mirror.
Ian stared after him for a long moment. At last, he turned and held a hand out. “Akila,” he said in strangled tones, “if you return now, you can accompany Shamil to the Council. Your word will be taken.”
She walked up to him. Stopped. And sent him a look that could’ve frozen Mount Vesuvius. “Return? Perhaps it is
your
head that is in need of healing.”
“But you must—”
“What? Persuade my father to step out from his ignorance and make a stand for the realm? If Taregan’s recording cannot do this, nothing will.” When he opened his mouth to protest again, she laid a finger on his lips. “No, Gahiji-an. I will not go back and pander to the Council. And I will no longer be bound by my father’s ridiculous notions of loyalty to clan. I have made my decision. My place is with you, my husband. My home is wherever you are. If you stay, I stay.”
“Akila—”
“I am staying. Do not bother telling me that I must return for my protection. I will not leave you again, and you cannot—”
He stopped her mouth with his. Apparently, he wanted a private forest, too.
“
Adjo anan
,” he murmured when he pulled back. “I am not the Council. You’ve no need to convince me. Stay, love, if that is your wish.”
She smiled. “It is.”
“Well,” I said a little too loudly. “I hate to interrupt, but don’t you think we should get going? I don’t know about you guys, but if I don’t get food and sleep soon, I think I might get a little cranky.”
An unsteady toddler zipped past me. Jazz reached my side and stopped to catch a breath. “I just realized something,” she said. “I’m the only one with a house.”
“She’s got a point,” I said. “Think I might have a little cash left. We can get a room for the night.”
Jazz pounded my arm. “No way, Donatti. You’re coming home with me.”
I grinned. “I knew you’d see it my way.”
“Oh, for . . .” She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you ever serious?”
“No.” I caught Ian’s gaze and saw amusement. “Is that a problem?”
She coughed, but I detected a laugh in there. “Let’s go home.”
Those three words sounded better than a winning lottery ticket to me.
After sleeping for twelve hours straight, I felt almost normal again. Except for the part about waking up in a bed that wasn’t in a cheap hotel or the backseat of a car. I could count the number of times that had happened in my life and still have a few fingers left over.
The only thing missing was Jazz. I’d been pretty sure I left her right next to me when I passed out.
I rolled off the mattress and tried to remember how to get to the bathroom. It didn’t take long. After all, I’d been here a few times before—though we hadn’t stayed in the bedroom much. We usually hadn’t made it that far and ended up settling for the downstairs couch. Or the floor.
Why did I ever think leaving her was a good idea?
The minute I stepped into the upstairs hall, the smell of breakfast attacked me. Bacon, eggs, coffee. Maybe even toast. The idea of Jazz cooking for me induced a kind of happy delirium. Only nameless line cooks and grudging nuns had ever made me breakfast.
I took care of business and headed for the stairs. On the way, I passed the room I’d watched Jazz tuck Cyrus into last
night. The door stood open a crack, and I couldn’t resist peeking in. Morning light behind curtains decorated with cartoon dogs bathed the room in a soft glow. Cyrus sprawled on a pint-sized bed with sturdy plastic rails, a sheet tangled around his legs and a thumb resting loosely in his mouth. He somehow managed to occupy the entire mattress, even though it was twice as big as him.
My son. The phrase still seemed distant and muffled, like a dream. But it was getting easier to accept the title of father. I only hoped I’d prove worthy to carry the role.
I backed out and moved down the hall. A baby gate blocked off the top of the stairs. I took one look at the latch and stepped over it. No way I’d be able to get that thing open without at least a cup of coffee in me. Of course, if it had been a locked bank vault, I could’ve cracked it in my sleep. The irony did not escape me.
Downstairs, the door to the spare room Jazz had given to Ian and Akila remained closed. I smiled and moved on to the kitchen. Didn’t expect to see them for a while yet. They had four hundred years of catching up to do.
Jazz looked up from a newspaper spread on the table in front of her when I walked in. “Morning, Houdini. Want some breakfast? It’s on the stove.”
“In a minute.” I hung back and took in the sight of her. Oversized white cotton shirt, form-fitting tan pants, bare feet. No jewelry or makeup—she didn’t need it. She’d stopped wearing sunglasses in the house, probably for Cyrus, and her mismatched eyes were beautifully unapologetic. And despite the horrors of the past few days, she seemed relaxed and content.
I knew she wasn’t recovered, but she’d never let on about it. Typical Jazz.
She gave an exasperated snort, as if she’d just read my mind. “You going to eat before it gets cold or just stand there all day?”
“Sorry. Just enjoying the scenery.” I grinned and moved to the stove to help myself.
A page rustled behind me. “Did you just call me scenery?”
“Me? Never.” Plate full, I carried it over and settled in a chair next to her. I nodded at the paper. “Anything interesting in there?”
“Some rich guy’s house on the lake collapsed, night before last. Killed him and at least two other unidentified individuals. Tragic, really.” The ghost of a smile traced her lips, and she flipped back a few pages to show me an article accompanied by a flat color shot of Trevor’s half-toppled house. “Local Art Collector Dies in Unexplained Accident”, the headline stated.
“Mm-hm. A shame.” I forked a pile of scrambled eggs and tasted bliss. “Thank you for this,” I said.
She seemed to know I meant more than just breakfast. “You’re welcome.”
Conversation entered an easy lapse. I ate, she read. When I finished, I cleared my dishes, procured some coffee, and sat back down. Some of my contentment evaporated. I had to discuss a few things with her, and they weren’t going to be easy.
Jazz sensed my disquiet and put the paper aside. “What’s up?”
“I love you.”
That hadn’t been where I meant to start. It did get her attention, though. She smiled and covered my hand with hers. “I feel a ‘but’ coming on here.”
“Yeah. A big ‘but.’ ” I swallowed hot coffee. Despite the
sugar I’d loaded it with, a bitter taste lingered in my mouth. “Being here with you, like this . . . it’s amazing. I’ve never been happier. I mean that,” I said before she could voice dissent.
She arched an eyebrow. “Get to the ‘but’ already.”
“However,” I said with the hint of a smile. It faded fast. “I can’t do this full-time. You know. Settle down and stay here forever.”
“Really. Have a lot of people to rob, do you?”
I probably deserved that, but it still hurt. “Actually, no. I’ve decided to retire.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Ian.” I sighed and looked away. “There’s still almost a hundred of those bastards out there. The Morai, I mean. And Ian has to hunt them all down by himself.” I shook my head, backtracked. “Well, he’s got Tory, but I don’t know how much help he’ll be.”
Jazz smirked agreement. A few hours in Tory’s presence was more than enough to realize that, five hundred years old or not, he still had some growing up to do. He and Lark had opted for a high-end hotel stay while the team Lark had already hired rebuilt his house. It wouldn’t take long. Lark’s money worked faster than djinn magic.
“Anyway, Ian would never admit to it, but I think he needs me.” I couldn’t begrudge him that. Didn’t think I’d ever admit that I needed him, too. “I’m going to help him. The thing is, as long as these guys are trying to get back to the djinn realm, they’ll be after me. And Cyrus. I just can’t—”
“Gavyn.”
“Wait, let me finish.” If I didn’t spit it out now, I’d give myself time to change my mind. “I’ve got to help him. It won’t be easy, and I won’t be around as much as I want. I’ll be ditching
you both. Again. I promised no more disappearing acts, and I’m already breaking that promise.” My voice cracked at the end.
She looked at me. “Are you done?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Now I can tell you what an idiot you are.”
“Christ, Jazz. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You obviously don’t know this.”
“I’m aware of my own stupidity, thanks.”
“Shut up, Donatti.”
I did. And she kissed me. I wanted to be angry—didn’t she know this was rubbing it in?—but my primal senses drowned everything except her lips on mine.
Jazz drew back. “I love you. But if you weren’t doing this, I don’t think I’d like you very much.”
“Huh?”
“I’m saying I agree with your decision. More than agree. And I’m going to help any way I can.” She touched my face and smiled. “You’ll stay when you can. Go when you need to. Think of it as a home base.”
“What about Cyrus?”
Her expression took on a touch of exasperation. “What about him? If you think he’s going to grow up hating you for not being around all the time, you don’t know little boys. He’ll think you’re a hero.”
I grunted. “Not likely.”
“You will be in his eyes. And mine.”
For a moment, I forgot how to speak. What I felt was too big for words. Finally, my mouth lapsed into habitual behavior.
“What kind of fringe benefits do heroes have around here? At the least, I expect to get the babe in bed.”
She kicked my shin. I yelped.
Low laughter from the doorway alerted me that my performance had been witnessed.
“You cannot help yourself, can you?” Ian said.
“With what?”
“Trouble. It clings to you like a shroud.”
“Yeah, and sometimes it follows me around like a djinn.” I grinned and added, “Good morning, trouble.”
Ian nodded in amused acknowledgment. “Tell me. What is this delightful smell?”
“Breakfast.” Jazz stood and gestured to the table. “Have a seat, Ian. I’ll get you some.”
“Oh, sure. Wait on him.”
“He complimented my cooking.” She rubbed my shoulder on her way to the stove, and I felt better. A little.
While she piled food on a plate, I refrained from glowering at Ian. “How long were you standing there this time?”
“I have only just arrived.”
“No invisible eavesdropping?”
“Not this time, thief.”
“Good.”
Jazz set the plate down in front of Ian with an authoritative
thunk
. “Settle down, boys. It’s too early for this.”
“Thank you, lady.” Ian sent me a smug look.
I drank my coffee and congratulated myself on my restraint.
A short electronic squawk behind me drew my attention. I turned and saw a squat plastic speaker box with a row of red lights and a short antenna sitting on the counter beside the stove. “That’s a pretty low-tech scanner you got there, Jazz. Does it transmit in Morse code?”
“It’s a baby monitor, you dope.” She reached over and twisted a knob. A steady hiss of air drifted from the speaker. Seconds later, there was a soft thump, then another. Like two pajama-clad feet landing in succession on the floor.
Cyrus’s voice came through as clearly as if he was in the kitchen with us. “Where Teddy?” Something rustled. “Ga. Teddy?”
Crash!
“Uh-oh. Boke it.”
Jazz grimaced and switched off the monitor. “Oh, boy. I’ll be back.”
I watched her rush from the room, then held my empty mug aloft. “Want some coffee?” I asked Ian. “I’ll pour, and you won’t even have to compliment me.”
He laughed. “Thank you, yes. That would be pleasant.”
“So.” I fished out another mug. “Where’s your wife?”
“She is resting.” Concern knitted his features. “Dealing with Lenka has exhausted her. I do not think she will recover quickly.”
“You might be surprised. Women are tougher than we think.”
“I do hope you are correct.” He accepted the cup I handed him and wrapped both hands around it. “I must remember to thank your Jazz for allowing us to rest here. Once Akila has regained her strength, we will move on.”
“Why? I’m sure Jazz won’t mind if Akila stays.”
He blinked. “She would rather I did not?”
“That’s not what I meant. She wants everyone to stay. I’m just talking about while we’re gone. I figured we could take this in stages—you know, maybe bag two or three and take a break. It’ll take a while to find all those evil snake dudes.”
Ian gave me a strange expression. “Did you say ‘we’?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“It is my place to destroy the Morai. My responsibility. Not yours.”
“Well, now it’s mine, too.”
“You cannot—”
I glared at him. “Are you saying I can’t do it? Because I seem to remember exploding that slimeball pretty good.”
Ian sighed. “I did not mean it that way.”
“So you don’t want my help, then?”
“No. I . . .” He paused. “You have already done more than enough. You have seen Lenka. The rest of the Morai are no better, and they will not hesitate to kill you, given the opportunity.” Ian shook his head. “You have a family now, thief. I cannot ask you to continue risking your life for the realm. For me.”
“That’s retired thief to you,” I said. “And you don’t have to ask me. I’ve already decided, all by myself.”
“I do not understand. Why would you do this?”
“Because Jazz and Cyrus aren’t the only family I have.”
He looked at me as if I’d started speaking Martian.