Master and Apprentice (8 page)

“So you would destroy me simply because I was born a Morai.” Calvin stared at him. “I’d expected no less from you,
rayan.
What my clan has done to yours is unforgivable. But I hoped you’d at least entertain the idea that we’re not all defined by our birthright. After all, your wife is Bahari.”

Ian launched himself forward. He caught the monk by the throat and slammed him against the shelves. Books and scrolls shivered loose and tumbled down around them. “Never mention my wife, snake,” he said through his teeth. “You are not worthy to think of her.”

“Ian, let go!” I grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away. I might as well have been dead-lifting a bus out of a ditch. “We’re listening. Remember? Being reasonable people. And djinn. Knock this crap off.”

Calvin lifted a hand. “Understood,” he croaked.

Ian pushed harder for an instant before he released him. He shrugged me off and treated me to a black-dagger stare. “I will
listen, thief. But I assure you, I will not tolerate insults from the likes of him.”

I failed to see anything insulting about Calvin’s comment, but I wouldn’t mention that now. I’d leave Ian to his denial of the truth in it. For the moment. “Look, there has to be some way to settle this,” I said, and added quickly, “that doesn’t involve breaking things.”

Calvin rubbed his throat. The skin where Ian had throttled him was bright red and starting to bruise. “I’m afraid the prince is right.” He made his way to the chair in front of the table and just about collapsed in it. “If I’m guilty until proven innocent, there’s nothing to be done. I have only my word.”

“Then you have nothing,” Ian said.

“Wait.” I tried to banish the visions of impending explosions haunting my mind. None of them ended well for me. “How about some information? Can you tell us anything about those descendants who were just here?”

Calvin’s brow furrowed. “The scions? I thought they were after you.”

“They were. But we have no idea who they are, or where they came from.”

“Yes. Convenient, is it not, that they should have found us so close to your home?” Ian spoke calmly enough, but I recognized the threat in his tone. “Enlighten us, snake. I know they are Morai. Are they your descendants?”

“No. I’ve never seen them before today.” Calvin’s gaze flicked away for an instant. I was no lie-detection expert, but I thought he might be leaving something out of that statement. “And I was under the impression that you’re the only djinn capable of reproduction in this realm,
rayan.
Logically, I would assume they’re yours. How could you know they’re Morai?”

The cold smile that wrenched Ian’s lips didn’t reach his eyes. “There were three of them.”

“You …” Calvin went the approximate shade of soured milk. He wrapped a hand around the cross that hung from his neck and murmured a rapid string of Latin words. A catechism for the dead. When he finished, he cast a glare in Ian’s direction. “Is murder your answer for everything, or do you reserve it for special occasions—like Tuesdays?”

The timer on my explosive visions started up again. “Hold on,” I said. “That was self-defense. They attacked us.”

“Of course it was. And what about all the Morai you killed while they were still bound inside their tethers? I suppose that was self-defense too.”

Something inside me shivered and tried to crawl away. I suspected it was my conscience. I’d all but convinced myself we were right to kill them—but this guy was coming after my glass walls of denial with a hammer. Why did I ever think it was acceptable to destroy defenseless living beings? I would have screamed, or puked, if I’d thought it would accomplish anything outside of drawing the attention of two furious djinn to me.

Ian, on the other hand, wouldn’t know regret if it nailed him in the balls. “You are extraordinarily well-informed for a sequestered monk who does not use his power.” A sneer filtered through his frozen smile. “This does not bode well to convince me of your honesty.”

Some of the flustered rage drained from Calvin’s expression. “It’s a logical conclusion,” he said. “You’ve been hunting my clan for four hundred years. You’ve boasted dozens of kills. They couldn’t have all been released—some of them must have still been bound and helpless.” He made a weary gesture. “If I thought it would convince you, I’d subject myself to a truth spell.”

Ian snorted. “Now I am certain you are lying. There is no such spell.”

“Ah, yes. There’s the paradox.” Calvin shook his head. “I’ve been able to modify the
ham’tari
—”

“Enough, snake!” Ian blanched with fury, and I wished for something big and solid to hide behind. A mountain range would be great. “Even the Bahari have been unable to manipulate the
ham’tari,
and they created it
.
I will hear no more of your lies.”

Bad move, Calvin.
I remembered hearing about that particular spell. It had been used against Ian’s father before the Morai clan leader killed him, and not in a good way. Most curses weren’t intended to benefit the recipient.

“Believe what you will,
rayan,
” Calvin said. “And do what you must. I don’t fear you as much as you’d like to think, since I know you won’t find my tether.”

The cold smile revisited Ian’s face, and I resigned myself to running painful interference any second. “I do not require your tether to neutralize you,” he said. “I will simply remove your deceitful tongue from your mouth.”

The exaggerated sound of a creaking door came from the laptop on the desk, followed by a pop. An instant-message chat window appeared on the screen. I couldn’t quite read what it said from across the room, but I made out the avatar the sender was using. It was a photo of a raccoon. With a pink collar.

“Mercy,” I blurted. “Holy … cow. You’re Cal.”

Calvin moved between me and the laptop, wearing the same I’ll-castrate-you expression Ian used whenever anyone mentioned Akila. “How do you know her?” he demanded. “If anything’s happened to her …”

“Gifter of wards,” Ian said with a sneer. “Tell me, Khalyn.

If you know nothing of these scions, what do you believe your Mercy needs protection from?”

Crud. He did have a point.

A bright and tingling ribbon of sensation wormed through my gut, raising gooseflesh and the hairs on the back of my neck. It took me a few seconds to realize it wasn’t my nerves. It was magic. “Ian,” I stage-whispered. “Does something feel different to you?”

Calvin reacted first. His eyes widened, and he snatched for his glasses and shot to his feet. “My wards,” he said. “Someone’s taken apart the spells. Only—” His entire body shuddered. “You have to leave this place. Now. Use the mirror, but don’t travel to any place you want to stay undiscovered. Once you’ve arrived wherever you’re going, leave immediately.”

“What’s going on?” I looked to Ian for an explanation.

“There is another djinn approaching. And not alone.” A strange look shadowed his features—part rage, part resignation, and something else I couldn’t identify. “Khalyn is correct. We must leave. We are too weak to face them.”

Calvin made his way to the door. “Go quickly. I can’t hold them off for long.” With that, he slipped from the room and closed us in.

“Jesus Christ.” I let out the breath I’d been holding. “I hope you know where we’re supposed to be going, because I didn’t follow any of that.”

“Yes.” Ian shook himself and approached the mirror, already drawing blood from a finger with his teeth. “We will return to the staging point, and travel on foot from there. We cannot go directly home. They may be able to trace the spell.”

I decided to save my questions for later. The tingling ribbon had spread and invaded my limbs. Somehow I understood that
whatever was out there, it was powerful. And extremely angry. “Hurry up,” I said.

Ian had already opened the bridge. The mirror no longer reflected the study. Now it showed a shadow-drenched standard hotel bathroom, as viewed from above the sink. “Go,” he told me. “I will follow you directly.”

“You’d better.” The brief idea that he might stay behind and try to take on the new arrivals left as soon as it came. Even Ian wasn’t that stupid.

Or was he?

Before I could reconsider, my feet carried me through the mirror, and I emerged shivering in the hotel room.

I clambered down from the sink and felt for the light switch. By the time I flipped it on, the mirror had lost its reflection and Ian climbed through. I allowed myself a moment of relief before I realized he looked worse than I felt. The bridges shouldn’t have taken quite so much out of him. That probably meant he’d cast an extra spell.

“What did you do?”

He perched on the edge of the sink, slumped in place. “A temporary ward,” he said. “It should keep them from detecting us for a short while. I have not harmed the—Khalyn.”

His grudging use of the name said more than his words. “Does that mean you’re not going to destroy this guy?”

“We must keep moving.” He didn’t look at me while he slid to the floor and took a few unsteady steps. “The spell will not last long.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“No.”

When he didn’t elaborate, I said, “No you didn’t answer, or no you’re not going to kill him?”

“Blast it, thief ! We have no time for this discussion.” He pushed past me and into the main room, weaving like he’d just mainlined a bottle of liquor, and fell on his knees beside one of the beds. “Collect whatever you need, and give me a moment to recover.”

I didn’t like the dodgeball game he was playing. “Come on, man. Don’t tell me you still don’t trust him. He saved our lives twice.”

Ian closed his eyes. “I am aware of this. Now move, unless you wish his efforts to have been in vain.”

“Fine.” I’d take it up with him later. I grabbed the bag I’d brought and considered changing, since I was filthy with dirt, twigs, dried blood, and God knew what else from our romp through the woods. But apparently we were in a hurry. I went back to the bathroom, washed as much of the crud from my face as I could, and finger-combed water through my hair.

“Donatti! We cannot wait any longer,” Ian called. “We must leave.”

“Coming.” I sighed, shouldered my bag, and headed out to join him. My head pounded, my ribs ached, and my leg twanged every time I put pressure on it—but I was still alive. And I wanted to stay that way.

We left the key in the room and exited the building through a side door. Outside, a fine spring day in Ridge Neck, Virginia, refused to reflect the trouble we were in. Bright blue skies hung above tidy, whitewashed buildings tucked between flourishes of vegetation. The place would have made a great colonial postcard. Beautiful. And absolutely useless. No airport, no car-rental place, and if they had a bus station, I doubted they ran regular shuttles to the nearest cradle of modern civilization.

Not to mention that we stuck out like bikers at a tea party. I looked like something dragged up from a river, and Ian—besides
being almost seven feet tall with inhuman eyes—wore only pants and a tattered, bloody vest. We weren’t going to get too far unnoticed.

“Damn,” I said under my breath. “Now what?”

“Walk.” Ian started toward the back of the motel. Away from the town. Headed straight for acres of wilderness.

I grabbed his arm. “Hold on. I thought we needed to make some miles here.”

“Yes. And since you cannot fly and I have no power left, we will walk.”

“Did you get hit on the head harder than me?” I let go and stepped back. “You’re barely standing. I’m not much better. Who knows how far the next shitpoke town is through there? We won’t last until sundown.”

“We must—”

“Yeah, I know.” I frowned and glanced back toward the mostly quiet village, this time with a thief’s eye. It was doable. “We’ll have to steal some transportation.”

For once, Ian didn’t disagree.

A
s a personal rule, I never stole late-model vehicles in poor condition. People who drove cars like that couldn’t afford to lose them. Robin Hood I wasn’t, but I still had standards. However, since my only feasible options were a brand-new Mercedes sedan with more alarms than Fort Knox or a Chevy pickup that looked like it had survived the Depression, and we were in a hurry, I took the truck. My conscience and I could have it out later.

There was a grand total of one road leading out of town. I didn’t breathe until the place was out of sight and we’d failed to pick up an entourage of whirling lights and sirens, or citizens with torches and pitchforks. Then I could concentrate on navigating the claptrap on wheels down the winding mountain road, with only a guardrail separating us from a thousand-foot roll down a rocky slope.

Beside me, Ian maintained a death grip on the oh-shit handle above his window while we bounced and rattled along. “Are you certain this vehicle is safe?” he half-shouted over the roar of a failing muffler.

“Sure,” I said with more conviction than I felt. “Why?”

He pointed down between his feet. “I can see the road.”

“Oh.” I glanced over and looked through the rust-edged hole in the passenger-side floor at the dust gray asphalt rushing by. “Er … we should be fine. The floor’s not important.”

“Indeed.” Ian slid back in the seat and tried to tuck his legs under him. It didn’t work, so he settled for propping them on the dash. “I believe I would have preferred walking.”

I decided not to let him bait me. The road dipped ahead, so I slowed to twenty and puttered down a steep incline that looked like it’d never end. “So, what’s the plan now—hit the next town and find a mirror?”

Ian offered a weary nod. His eyes fluttered closed. “Wake me when we arrive.”

Great. I thought about protesting. If I had to stay awake, he should too. But it made sense to let him rest. I still had some juice left, and if whoever was chasing us managed to catch up, we’d need everything we could get.

Toward the bottom of the incline, the blasted rock on the mountain side of the road gradually gave way to more trees. Twilight’s shadow distorted them, made them a fairy tale woods that no self-respecting girl with a basket would be caught dead in. I flipped the headlights on against the gathering gloom, and wasn’t surprised that only one lit up. The road leveled out a little, so I walked the protesting truck up to forty and held it there. Much faster and it’d probably shake itself apart. I pitied whoever owned this wreck, and not just because I’d stolen it.