Master and Apprentice (13 page)

J
azz took one look at me and insisted I get some sleep. Not that I was going to stage a protest on that point. By the time I woke up, it was Cy’s turn to go to bed. And somehow I got roped into bedtime story duty.

It wasn’t going well.

Cyrus, seated Indian style on his bed, frowned at me. “No, Daddy,” he said. “Do the monster voice. Like Mommy does.”

“Uh, right.” I cleared my throat, backtracked a few sentences, and growled, “We’ll eat you up, we love you so.” My growl sounded like an angry Muppet imitation, but Cy seemed okay with it. I finished the last few pages without interruption from the peanut gallery and closed the book. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s get you covered up.”

He flopped back on his pillows with a sigh that clearly said
Daddy, you’re doing it wrong.
“You forgot my drink.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.” He pointed to a bright yellow cup with a sip lid on the table next to his bed. “See? It’s empty.”

I reached over and picked it up. A few drops of liquid sloshed around inside. “I guess it is,” I said. “We’ll have to fix
that. What’re you drinking—mud? Worm juice? Maybe tequila.”

He giggled. “Water!”

“Got it. One water, coming up.”

I slipped out of his room into the hallway. Jazz was just coming up the stairs, carrying a pile of folded towels. I met her at the linen closet and opened it for her. “You didn’t tell me about the monster voice,” I said.

“Huh? Oh, right. The book.” She smiled and stowed the towels on a shelf. “I’m sure Cy filled you in.”

“Yeah, he did. ‘You suck, Daddy. Do it like Mommy.’ Thanks for the heads-up.” I grinned at her. “So when do I get to hear your monster voice?”

“Growl,” she deadpanned.

“Whoa, baby. That’s sexy.”

“You should hear my big bad wolf.” She reached across, pulled the closet shut. “He all set in there?”

“Not quite.” I shook the cup. “The boy’s thirsty.”

“Right. You got that? I’m going to say good night.”

“Sure. I’ll be—”

She’d already started for Cy’s room.

“Right there,” I mumbled. I held back a sigh and went into the bathroom. It wasn’t hard to tell she was distracted at best, and probably still pissed off. Couldn’t really blame her there. And I hadn’t even given her the good news yet.

I filled the cup and made my way back to find Jazz drawing a blanket over Cyrus. She leaned down and kissed him, then stepped back to let me through.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Cyrus accepted the cup and took a quick drink. “Wait! We hafta make a wish.” He sat up, pushed the blankets back, and swung his legs over the side. “Mommy, can Daddy wish with us?”

“Sure, baby.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What are we wishing for?”

“Whatever you want. It’s a secret when you wish on a star. Right, Cy?” Jazz scooped him up and carried him to the big window. She pulled the curtains back. Outside, only a faint line of light remained on the horizon, and a handful of bright stars dotted the sky. “You ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

They spoke in the same breath. “Star light, star bright …”

I listened to the familiar poem, but couldn’t bring myself to join in. This ritual belonged to them. The simple harmony and comfort in it, the unconscious intimacy, the small gestures—a point and a laugh from Cyrus, Jazz’s answering smile—almost made me feel like a voyeur. When they finished, Cyrus scrunched his eyes shut tight.

I concentrated on the brightest star I could see.
I wish this curse will never touch my son.

“Okay, little man.” Jazz carried him back to the bed. “Time for sleep.”

After she settled him in, I went over and ruffled his silken curls. “Sleep tight.”

He rolled onto his side and looked at me. “What’d you wish for, Daddy?”

“I thought it was a secret.” I smiled, and whispered, “A pony.”

“Really? I’m gonna wish for a pony tomorrow.” He yawned. “G’night.”

“Good night, Cy.”

I slipped out and left the door ajar, like I’d seen Jazz do. She waited at the top of the stairs. “Akila and Ian are on their way over,” she said. “I guess Ian wants you guys to head out again tomorrow.”

“Terrific. Can’t wait.” I sighed and plodded over to her. Might as well make her completely pissed at me. “Jazz, I need to tell you something you’re not going to like.”

“You mean about the curse?”

“Uh … yeah.” I didn’t have to add
How’d you know
—my expression said it for me.

She smirked. “Akila told me. While you were sleeping.”

“Great. Guess I should be glad you two are getting along so well.” I followed her down the stairs, toward the living room. “So what’s next? Are you gonna start painting each other’s toenails and going out to strip clubs together?”

“Been there, done that.”

I stopped. “You’re not serious.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She turned, and a teasing smile flitted across her mouth. “You’re still cute when you’re jealous, Houdini.”

Some of the crushing weight on my shoulders eased. She hadn’t used that nickname in months. I wasn’t sure why she’d suddenly lightened up, but I didn’t want to risk dampening the mood again. “And you’re beautiful when you’re screwing with my head,” I said.

“Which one?”

I gave a desperate moan. “Not fair. We’re having company.”

The front door opened right on cue, as if my life were a crappy television sitcom. I half-expected to hear a canned laugh track. Instead, I got a low chuckle from Jazz and a whispered promise of
Later.
It’d have to be enough.

Akila entered first. When Ian came in behind her, for an instant I thought I was seeing a ghost. Wearing only a vest, pants, and boots, he looked just like his father in Akila’s vision—but scrubbed clean of dirt and any trace of good cheer.
Exhaustion lurked in his stance and his eyes. A good wind could’ve carried him off to the next county.

I would’ve felt sorry for him if he had better timing.

Watching Akila make a thought-form the second time was just as fascinating as the first.

She sat on the couch, her back to the big folding mirror we used for bridges, with Ian beside her watching intently. Jazz and I hung back. Inside the circle she’d formed hovered a bird’s-eye view of rolling, forested mountains under a full and blazing moon. I had the vague impression I’d seen this before—but I couldn’t be sure, since at the time I’d been falling a zillion miles an hour toward certain death.

“So, Princess,” I said. “You going to teach me how to make these?”

She laughed. “You are not Bahari.”

“I’m not Dehbei either. Not really. So maybe it’ll work for me.” Some kind of bird soared across the image—a big one. It might’ve been an owl. “At least tell me how you’re doing it,” I said.

Akila shrugged. “I am scrying, and projecting an illusion of what I see.” The image wobbled, flickered, and solidified again.

“Donatti.” Jazz elbowed me. “Let her concentrate.”

“Sorry, Princess.” I shut my mouth and watched. This was the first time I’d been involved in the actual search for a tether. Usually Ian just told me where we were going and what we were looking for. He hadn’t offered an explanation for this, but I suspected it was the closest he could come to an apology. That, or he just wanted an extra pair of eyes in case he missed something.

“There.” Ian pointed to a deep canyon that scored the face of a mountain. “We crossed this. It should be close.”

Akila nodded, and the view zoomed across the canyon to skim the tops of the trees beyond. “I do not sense anything here,” she said quietly. “He may have replaced his wards.”

“Keep searching.”

I resisted the urge to smack Ian in the back of the head. The trees grew closer, until it almost seemed we could reach out and touch them. A few patches of wobbly bare ground appeared between the branches rushing past. The overall effect was like someone had strapped a webcam around the neck of a geriatric bat and kicked him out of his cave before he’d woken up for the night. Apparently, Akila didn’t have as much control over live thought-forms as remembered ones.

“Is anyone else getting dizzy?” Jazz murmured.

I nodded agreement while the woozy bat-o-vision sluiced by a small stream, a massive deadfall, and a big furry something that probably had sharp teeth. Nothing looked familiar to me, but if this was the right place, I’d covered most of this ground trying not to fall off the back of a running wolf. I didn’t expect any landmarks to jump out.

The image canted drunkenly to the right and skimmed across a spacious clearing with flashes of gray stone. It slowed, zoomed out, and backtracked. “Here,” Akila said. The vision centered on the clearing, and the familiar building it contained. “This is your monastery, yes?”

“Yes.” Ian leaned forward. “Is his tether there?”

Akila rolled her eyes. “I am not that fast, my heart. Give me a moment.”

He opened his mouth, and with a sharp look Akila made him shut it.

Jazz grinned. “Now there’s a trick I wouldn’t mind learning. Nice death stare, Akila.”

“Thank you, Jazz. I will teach it to you.”

I let out a groan. “Do I get a vote in this death-stare thing?”

“No,” both women responded at once, and then laughed together.

After a minute, Akila frowned. “I feel nothing here. No magic at all.”

Ian released a frustrated snarl. “Then we will go there, and force him to reveal his tether.”

“Come on, Ian. He already said we’d never find it. It’s probably nowhere near the place.” A shudder snaked down my spine. “And I’m really not into torturing monks.”

“Blast it, thief ! I have explained this. He must be destroyed, or we will—”

“Wait.” Akila gestured at the thought-form, and the image started moving again. “I sense … something. Not far from here.”

At least her statement shut Ian up for a few minutes. The view rushed across the mountain, direct and purposeful. It passed over thick patches of evergreens, deep and tangled thickets of underbrush. Finally, the rapid motion slowed and focused on a gated chain-link fence—complete with a couple of armed guards. Beyond the fence lay a collection of wooden buildings arranged in three straight lines. Something about them didn’t look right, but I couldn’t quite decide what it was. If the guards had been in uniform, I would’ve thought military base. But there were no flags, no insignia of any kind. And last I checked, the military didn’t issue sawed-off spearguns.

“Holy hell,” Jazz said. “Whatever this place is, these guys’re some serious fuckers.”

“Yeah.” My voice wasn’t exactly steady. This must be the militia Mercy had mentioned. Fenced on three sides, the area butted against a sheer rock face carved from the mountain. Distinctive snarled lines of barbed wire ran along the top of the
chain-link fence, and a watchtower rose above the center of the fence opposite the cliff. The only path into the compound led directly to the guarded gate. Rock-strewn ground dropped sharply away from the rest of the fence line. Whoever they were, they didn’t want company.

Akila shivered. “This place feels wrong.”

“Is the tether here, then?” Ian regarded the image with predatory expectation. “He is a fool if he believes gun-wielding humans will stand in my way.”

“Hate to point this out, Ian, but gun-wielding humans have stood in your way before. Remember Skids?” I said. “I remember Skids. And Conner, and Pope—”

“Enough.” Ian glared at me. “I do recall what transpired, thief. And I will not make the same mistakes.”

Akila said something in djinn. I hoped she was calling Ian a nasty name, but whatever she’d done added sound to the image. At first there was little outside a vague hum—a small breeze, distant traffic, the electric murmur of the perimeter lights. A branch or a twig snapped somewhere, and one of the guards sent a glance toward the sound. “Ain’t nothin’,” he said after a minute.

The other one didn’t move. “I know.”

“Shit.” The first guard’s drawl warped the word into
sheeyit.
“Don’t know why I gotta stick out here. Everybody knows you can handle this, Billy. I got a girl waitin’ on me.”

“Paul.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

“Fine.” The one called Paul leaned against the fence and lit a cigarette. But he shut up.

A chill stole through me. The cadence of their speech matched the half-breeds we’d run into—and this place was practically within spitting distance of the monastery.

Another gesture from Akila, and we were moving down one of the corridors between buildings. The closer look helped me figure out why the structures looked wrong. None of them had windows. Not even in the doors—everything was solid wood.

Toward the end of the row, light spilled from an open door. The view moved inside. Six figures were seated at a round table. Everyone was armed with a weapon designed to blow large holes in flesh. The nearest, a blond dressed in white, sat with his back to the thought-form. Flanking him were faces that completed the freezing process in my blood. Kit and Lynus.

“Jesus, Ian. They’ve got a goddamn army.”

“They?” Jazz frowned. “You know these people?”

“They’re not exactly people. At least two of them are part djinn. Like me—only they’re Morai.” I kept my voice low. “Can they see us?”

Akila shook her head. “The Morai are not skilled with air magic.”

In the vision, Lynus shifted and scowled. “How long’s this gonna take?”

“Patience.” The voice came from the blond. And it sounded damned familiar. “We’ll find them eventually. You know they’re not our priority now.”

“But they killed Davie!”

“Yes. And they’ll pay for it. Now hush, child.”

Jazz muttered a curse. “Let me guess. ‘They’ is you two,” she said.

“Uh.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah.”

“And you were going to tell me this when?”

“I was getting to it.”

The image wavered. “Gahiji-an,” Akila said. “Something is not right. I cannot scry further in this room.”

“Perhaps they have set a ward. But if they have, it is weak. We should attempt to learn what they are planning.”

“I do not think—”

A male voice from the vision interrupted her. “We have company.” The voice hadn’t come from anyone at the table, but the blond turned in the chair. It was Calvin.