Aziza realized she was holding her breath. She’d never seen him like this. Her fantasy lover and Jinn protector had morphed into a bloodthirsty warrior. “Ram?”
She watched his jaw clench as he stood and forced his body to relax. “Forgive me. I have no patience for ignorance.”
Greg, too, looked shaken. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to push any buttons. And you’re right, I don’t know what I’m talking about. A few hours ago I was ranting and rocking in a corner.”
“Don’t mind my
tau’ma
.” Shev came to stand beside Ram, taking his hand in hers. “He is an idealist. He believes in everyone’s right to make impulsive decisions they are bound to regret. Believes your form of civilized chaos is the answer for us all. I think, at times, he even wishes he were human.”
Ram’s sound of scorn was more amused than angry. “Not for all the jewels of Qaf,” he denied. “Humans, for the most part, are as lifeless as the clay they’re made from. Though they are far preferable to the Niyr, their passions still cannot rival ours. Their emotions, while chaotic and interesting, are still tepid by comparison.”
Aziza counted to ten before responding. “Are there, perhaps, any other kinds of people you want to insult? You’ve covered poor little Te and us humans…what about the leprechauns? Do we hate them too? Are they
passionless
?”
“Only part of you is human,” he said by way of defense. But he couldn’t look her in the eye.
She squeezed Greg’s arm and smiled tightly. “Yes, but it’s my favorite part. Now go away and let me enjoy it for a while.”
Ram’s gaze narrowed on her at that. “If you keep telling me to leave I might think you actually mean it.”
She wanted to mean it. Whenever she looked at him she saw flashes of their time in the garden. His body. Felt him inside her. She shifted uncomfortably. It was distracting, especially since she didn’t trust him. Maybe there was something wrong with her. She’d just had the kinkiest make-out session of her life with Brandon yesterday, but a part of her still wanted Ram, attitude and all.
It would never happen. Could never happen again. He’d just been using her for his own ends. And his people that he loved so dearly were the reason her childhood had been nonexistent. It didn’t matter that he’d been worried about her. That he seemed thrown by how worried. He was no different than Brandon in one respect. They both seemed to want her—even while they hated at least part of what was inside her.
“Just so I’m sure I’m up to speed,” Aziza changed the subject. “Do I, as the mighty Fireborne of awesome, get to know why I’m here in the first place? I mean, why anyone needed a ‘break glass in case of emergency’ helper? Or how about why the Jinn and the Niyr hate each other so much? Or maybe you could just tell me what Brandon is. Another mongrel like me? Another Frankenstein created to ensure the peace?”
Shev moved closer and sat cross-legged on the table across from them. “Greg knows.”
Aziza looked over at her friend. “He does?”
Greg shifted, as if uncomfortable with all the attention. “We know you are connected to the treaty. That if the Fireborne line disappears war is inevitable.”
“So someone obviously wants to break this treaty by killing me, right?” Aziza looked around and noticed them all wearing nearly identical expressions of doubt. She bit her lip. “Do
we
not know that for sure? What
do
we know?”
“We know you shouldn’t be alive,” Shev murmured.
Ram swore at her, but his beautiful partner simply waved his concern away with her hand. “We all know it’s true.”
She held up her fingers one by one. “Her brothers? Dead. Their Qarin? All dead.
Her
old Qarin? Dead. Random humans everywhere she’s been since she left her home…” Shev paused, her tongue slipping out to lick her lips as she glanced back toward Aziza. “It is more than luck that protects our Aziza. That blesses her with life.”
“Greg already mentioned that.” She was worried she might throw up. It was no blessing. It was a curse. Her curse. Aziza had been putting herself in some kind of hair-raising danger at least once a week for the last eighteen months, with no Qarin in sight. Hell, she’d been practically begging for an “accident”. She’d forgotten about it during her time with Brandon. Forgotten what Greg had told her. And now Shev was saying the same thing. She shouldn’t be here.
Why
was
she still alive? “The pattern. The deadline. I thought it only happened every two years.”
Greg’s arms tightened around her. “Te and the others are concerned about that, for their own sakes as well as yours, but I can see Shev thinks there’s more of a mystery around this. She has a point. The guardians were killed before your deadline. It broke with the pattern. But not you. You were left alone.”
“If you ask me, I think that Enforcer is involved somehow,” Ram muttered, drawing Aziza’s attention after his long silence.
Brandon?
“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t even meet him until I came here. He didn’t even know what I was.”
Shev ignored her, nodding thoughtfully. “They
do
hate us. Before the wars, they loathed it when we crossed into what they deemed to be their territory. I imagine a Fireborne would be their worst nightmare. Unnatural, they call us, don’t they? What would they call someone with Aziza’s pedigree? Not to mention the fact that her very existence would kind of make their jobs redundant. Enforcers are nothing compared to a Fireborne.”
Aziza ignored the sensation of a knife twisting in her chest at those words. Did he really think she was unnatural? Was that why he’d followed her? Touched her? It didn’t feel right. He was conflicted, but he wanted her. She could tell.
But you aren’t sure.
“You never told me what he was. You said ‘before the wars’—so are Enforcers human? His eyes are—”
Before she could finish her sentence the doorbell rang, startling all of them. Aziza rolled her eyes in frustration and stood up when no one made a move for the door. “As soon as I get rid of whoever this is, I want an answer to that. I mean, I should know what he is, right? He did basically kidnap me against my will. And I’d appreciate it if you’d all stop looking at me with—what’s that word I’m looking for? Yeah.
Foreboding
.
I
should be the paranoid one in the group since I’m the girl everybody and their cousins are following. But let’s not forget we actually live in the real world too. My world. And in my world, demons don’t ring doorbells.”
She opened the door and looked up…
…and saw a dead body pinned to the wall.
“Oh God.” She fell to her knees in shock, feeling a strange twisting sensation in her stomach, a chilling of her blood.
Murder. Violence.
She could feel the animosity of it. The calculation.
“
Shit.
Holy shit, Aziza, we need to call the police.” Greg reached for his phone and swore with a creativity that she might have appreciated if she weren’t in so much pain. “What the hell is the number for the police?”
Shev put her arms around Aziza consolingly while Ram moved past them to study the corpse. “Whoever it is, they’re getting fearless. They want her to see them now. As if these are offerings. All the others were displayed with more subtlety.”
“Who?” Aziza shouted. “Who did this? And what the fuck do you mean ‘
all the others’
?”
“Calm down, Fireborne,” Shev murmured. “Calm down and study the body. Does it mean anything to you? Do you recognize it?”
Greg was still holding the phone. “What? Don’t listen to her, Aziza. Don’t look at it, honey. You don’t need to see any more of this bullshit they’re dragging us into.”
But she had to. She knew her. “The old woman in yellow. I bumped into her yesterday morning. She gave me a rose but I left it in the alley. It was crushed.”
Crushed like the roses—the same yellow roses—shoved into the old woman’s mouth, forcing her bloodless lips apart in an endless scream. She was still in the outfit she’d worn when Aziza met her. It wasn’t even rumpled or mussed. Her sensible, low-heeled buttercup-hued shoes were still on her feet. Posed. She looked posed. Those kind, bright eyes frozen forever in terror, dried blood staining her eyelids and cheeks from the marks that had been carved into her forehead. Deep cuts that spelled out a name.
Aziza.
“They’re getting careless.” Shev’s grip tightened on her when she started to shake. “The police will know this involves her, Ram. They will hold her. Watch her, thinking they can draw the killer out or keep her safe. We cannot allow that. We have to intervene.”
“We
are
intervening, Shev.” Ram’s voice was contemplative. Subdued. “Already walking the line of what is allowed by remaining here at her side. Visible. To step in, to change the course of these events would be unwise. There is a human death involved. If we sweep this under the rug, there will be repercussions. The Enforcers would never allow it, regardless.”
“Aziza is the last,” Shev insisted. “A new Fireborne. And this attack on her before she knows her full strength is a violation of the peace. Fuck the repercussions.”
Aziza hardly heard them, thinking instead about the man and woman from the Ferris wheel. “I did this. To that young couple. This sweet woman. Whoever is doing this…it’s because of me. Because they were near me. Am I wrong?”
There will be more deaths unless you accept…
Was this what her dream meant? But what else did she need to accept? She thought the fact that she wasn’t drooling in a straightjacket was forward movement. How much more could she take?
A woman died because she smiled at her and told her the world was a beautiful place. She couldn’t swallow the sob that escaped her. She’d been wrong. It was unfair and violent. Painful and heartbreaking. The world sucked. “Why?”
Ram reached down to touch the curled hand of the body, prying open the fingers and pulling out a crumpled ball of what looked like paper. He unfolded it and stared at it in silence. His eyes, when they turned in her direction, were filled with concern. “I think it’s because they’re tired of playing alone,” he answered darkly. “They seem to want you to join the game.”
She held out her hand until Ram handed her the wrinkled piece of photo paper. She looked down at it for long, drawn-out moments, trying to come to grips with the image. Trying not to let fear overshadow everything else. “No.”
“Aziza?” Greg was trying to see over her shoulder. “What is it?”
“Penn and Hillary. If this date is right, it was taken yesterday.” All the emotion drained out of her, replaced with shock. “I think it means they’re next.”
“That settles it.” Shev released her and stood abruptly, moving toward Ram. “Don’t let the cowboy call the police. I’ll make this problem disappear and inform our authorities about this breach.”
“What?” Aziza stood slowly, still gripping the picture in her hands. “‘
This problem’?
Is
that
what you said? Do your people have hearts where you come from? Compassion at all? What kind of creature are you?”
The beautiful Jinn crossed her arms and tilted her hip carelessly. “I’m your Qarin, ever ensuring your safety and well-being.” Her impatient huff destroyed the pose she’d been going for. “Do you want to be arrested for murder, Aziza? To be trapped and helpless while the killer looks for new and interesting ways to torment you? What if he decides to target Greg next? We will never find him without your help. Don’t you want to be free to fight another day?”
Aziza didn’t flinch. This wasn’t about her. “This
problem
was kind and full of joy. She loved life. That can only mean she
was
loved. There are people out there who—” she took a ragged breath, thinking suddenly of Joseph and the body they’d never found, “—who loved her. Who’ll miss her. She deserves to be mourned. They deserve to know.”
Ram took her arm gently, as if she would break. “You are right, Aziza. And so is Shev. We will intervene—she will remove all traces of your name on the body and place it somewhere where it will be found before night falls. She will be mourned. I promise you.”
Aziza dipped her chin in acknowledgment, then turned and headed for her bedroom. “Bring your notebooks, Greg. We’ll need to study on the drive. It’s time I had a crash course in Fireborne.”
She knew she would do whatever it took to make sure Penn was safe. That Greg was safe. Even if it meant sacrificing herself. No one else would be lost because of her.
With the exception of the bastard responsible for all this death.
She wasn’t sure what to make of it. The information Greg had written down was random, confusing and in no discernible order. Pages devoted to this Mayet he kept mentioning and the dying desert. What was the Mayet? The way it read, it could have been a person, the name of a place, or a battle that took place. She couldn’t be sure.
Other pages made references to dog-men standing guard at the feet of the Fireborne on the “Day of Justice”, but even that was interspersed with equations that looked like a Greek version of string theory. He’d even drawn symbols along the edges of each page that drew her eye and seemed similar to the mark that had first appeared on her hand, but not even he knew what they meant.
None of it—other than the word
Fireborne
and the powers she’d already experienced—looked familiar or made any sense.
Dog-men?
Even with a photographic memory and a moderate amount of intelligence, how would she ever understand—truly understand—what it was she could do in time to protect Penn? To stop this thing from killing more innocent people?
She had to take a breath. She could do this. She could see all the pieces—most of them—she just had to unscramble them in her mind. Hadn’t Te said the knowledge was in her blood? She needed more time.
The car swerved and someone honked a horn angrily. She glanced over at Greg who sat beside her in the backseat. “It might have been a bad idea to let Ram drive your rental.”
He kissed her forehead. “It shouldn’t bother an adrenaline junkie like you. And he assured us he knows a shortcut. Besides, you know me. I’m fully insured.”