Out of Tune Page 14

  “I'm sorry that we destroyed such a bond,” Torin said diplomatically. “But we also had a duty to stop Petra.”

  “I do not condemn you for your actions, Your Majesty,” King Baha quickly replied. “Only warn you of what you are up against. Now, how can we help?”

  “My consort”—I used the term that would be more appropriate at a royal court—“has become the tool of the Jinni's wrath. Slate is possessed by the Jinni, and we seek a way to free him.”

  “Possessed by the Jinni?” King Baha repeated.

  “Yes.”

  All three royals drew back in shock.

  “That cannot be true,” King Baha protested. “It's not possible for a Jinn to possess a Beneather; I assure you. Unless your consort is human?”

  “No, he's a Gargoyle, but I assure you, Your Majesty, he is possessed. There is no doubt in my mind. The Jinni confirmed it himself, speaking to me through Slate.”

  Queen Sabah gasped, her hand going to her full lips. “No, it can't be.”

  King Baha cooed and hushed his wife gently but it was apparent that he was disturbed as well. Even Saif, seated to his parents' right, had gone grim and silent, his eyes wide with horror. I didn't ask what precisely about my words had upset them, only waited for them to recover and offer the answer. Again; royal politics can be a bitch.

  The King, with one arm still around his wife, finally spoke, “There is an old prophecy; one about the end of our race. Most religions have such scenarios and, similar to some of those, our legends tell of a man who will usher in the cataclysm. He will be a Jinn with great abilities; powers that none of our kind possess.”

  “Such as the power to possess a Beneather?” Declan lifted a deep auburn eyebrow.

  “Just so,” King Baha confirmed. “I've always assumed the prophecy was simply a way of encouraging our people to treasure their lives; you can't appreciate immortality if it's never endangered. I never once considered that it could be true.”

  “What else does your prophecy say about the Jinni?” I asked.

  “The Jinx,” King Baha corrected somberly. “He will be called the Jinx, Bringer of Curses.”

  “Lovely,” Gage muttered.

  “He will be an evil man,” Prince Saif took over for his father. “Full of hatred for all that's good. His tongue utters only curses and his hands can only destroy. He is said to be born unremarkable—a normal Jinn—but a tragedy changes him and awakens his power.”

  “A tragedy.” Darcraxis grimaced at me.

  “Once transformed, the Jinx will amass an army of people not of our race and bring that army to Zuja to destroy the Jinn people and claim the planet for his own,” King Baha concluded.

  “An army of Beneathers.” The blood shivered in my veins. “He already has that through Slate; an army of Gargoyles.”

  “Don't forget the zone Slate rules,” Torin said to me. “He has the power to conscript every Beneather who lives in his zone into his army.”

  Queen Sabah made an exclamation in another language but the fear in her words needed no translation.

  “If we can get the Jinni—the Jinx—out of Slate, maybe we can stop this,” I said urgently.

  The King ran a hand over his face, upsetting his gold and ruby crown. “The prophecy says he is unstoppable. Once the Jinx rises, the end is assured.”

  “Excuse my language, Your Majesty, but fuck the prophecy,” I growled. “This is about genocide and the man I love. I'm not giving up. Will you?”

  Prince Saif squared his shoulders. “I'm with you, Elaria. I will fight to my last breath to save my people.”

  King Baha looked at his son, unblinking, then nodded slowly. “There is only one way to stop the Jinx.” He looked back at me.

  I nearly groaned. Please, don't say I need his name. Please, don't.

  “You need to discover the Jinx's true name. With that, you control him and, therefore, the prophecy.”

  I cursed under my breath.

  “That may not be quite as difficult as it sounds,” Saif said with a small smile.

  “Why not?” I asked hopefully.

  “You said that he gave his lover his name,” Saif reminded me.

  “Yes, but we killed her,” Darc answered. “Dead Satyrs tell no tales.”

  “Forgive me, but that is not true, King Darcraxis,” King Baha declared, sending his son an approving look. “The dead can speak, they just need a little help.”

  “A little help?” I asked as another shiver rolled over me.

  “You need a medium, Your Majesty,” Saif announced. “And although we only have prophets among my people, mediums abound in the Beneath.”

  “Yes, I've had experience with one recently,” I murmured.

  “Wonderful!” Prince Saif exclaimed. “Where can we find him?”

  “Unfortunately, he won't be able to help us,” I said glumly. “He's dead. Murdered. And I've just now realized who must have killed him.”

  The claw marks on the window ledge had been made to deliberately mislead us. It had been Slate who concluded that the scratches indicated that someone had scaled the wall, thus ruling out Beneathers who could fly. Slate who had focused on those scratches and demanded that they be analyzed, knowing full well that nothing would come of it. Slate who hadn't been in bed with me when I woke on the morning Daha was found dead. I had no idea when he'd gotten up; I'd been so exhausted from our patrol. Slate—correction; the Jinx—could have easily shifted into his Gargoyle form as soon as I was asleep and flown across the Zone to murder Daha.

  Perhaps he'd heard us talking about returning to Daha. Who knows what a Jinn can hear while he's unconscious? Especially one as powerful as this guy. Or maybe he was just covering his tracks. Whatever the case, it had to have been the Jinx. That was why Daha wouldn't name Slate as his murderer; he knew that I would have confronted him. A memory of the seer rose suddenly in my mind; Daha's expression when he shook Slate's hand. He'd known. Even then, Daha had known that the Jinx would kill him. How hard it must have been to keep that knowledge to himself. He could have fled—the lockdown had been lifted at that time—but he didn't. Daha stayed to face his fate. To make sure he got one last message to me. Maybe he knew that his help would save more than the Zone; that it might save an entire race.

  Which meant that it was possible to save the Jinn.

  “There are other seers,” Saif said with confused concern. “We will find one.”

  “Yes.” I cleared my throat. I'd tell them about Daha later, if we managed to save the Jinn. Talking about him now would only make me weep, and the last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of royalty. “We will. Is there anything else that could help us? Anything about this prophecy?”

  “I haven't read it for years,” King Baha murmured. “I will have my advisers look it over. If there's any weakness we might be able to exploit, I will contact you.”

  “Here.” Darc pulled a contact charm from his pocket. “Take this, Your Majesty. It's a Shining One contact charm. Are you familiar with them?”

  “I've heard of such stones but have never seen one,” Baha said with wonder as he took the gift from Darc. “Is it true that I simply call out the name of the person I wish to speak to and it will carry my voice to them across any distance?”

  “Yes, it's true, but only if that person also has a contact charm,” Darc confirmed. “We all possess charms; you may contact any of us.”

  “Thank you,” Baha said sincerely.

  “And I will attend you,” Prince Saif added.

  “That's not necess—”

  “The fate of my entire race hangs in the balance, Your Majesty,” Saif cut me off. “I must insist.”

  “Of course,” I gave in. “Honestly, we can use all the help we can get.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Instead of using our traveling stones, Saif took us to a traveling portal. I had a destination in mind that made the portal the better choice; it could take us directly to the Public Portals of the Grand Beneather Bazaar
in Istanbul. The Bazaar was the only place where I was certain I could find a seer.

  The Felinae Stretch, an area of the Bazaar where feline shapeshifters lived, was conveniently located near the Public Portals. We strode through the crowded streets, receiving warm greetings from the Bazaar residents as we went, and Saif lifted a surprised brow at me.

  “We helped the Bazaar once,” I said to his look. “We united them against the Demos Family.”

  “The crime syndicate you mentioned?”

  “One and the same.”

  He chuckled. “I had heard you were a mercenary, Spellsinger. But it seems instead that you are a philanthropist.”

  “I don't go around looking for lost causes.” I shrugged. “But when my friends ask me to help, I try my best, and I happen to have an amazing support team.”

  “Speaking of your amazing friends,” a familiar voice drawled. “What are you doing in my stretch of the Bazaar, Spellsinger?”

  “I don't believe I said my friends were the amazing ones.” I couldn't stop the grin from taking over my face as I turned and opened my arms to Kasteo Terrencal. “Hey, you. I was hoping to run into you,” I murmured as I hugged him. “How's your brother?”

  “Kos is good,” Kas said as he eased back and nodded a greeting to my men. “We're all good. I'm hoping you're not a harbinger for the end of that goodness.”

  Saif cleared his throat uneasily.

  “Funny that you should use those words,” I grumbled.

  “Oh, fuck me, El, what have you brought to us now?” Kasteo flicked his tabby-cat hair out of his handsome face and crossed his slim arms across his chest.

  “Nothing. I just need to see a psychic to try and prevent an apocalypse.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. No big deal.” Kasteo grimaced. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

  Passerby paused to glance at us warily, and I smiled brightly and waved. They frowned in confusion but waved back and moved on. As long as I didn't start singing, they wouldn't panic.

  “It's an apocalypse that will affect the Jinn alone,” I explained. “This is their prince; Prince Saif. Your Highness, this is one of my oldest and most aggravating friends, Kasteo Terrencal.”

  “A prince, eh?” Kasteo looked Saif up and down.

  “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Terrencal.”

  Kas chuckled and held out his hand. “We're a bit more informal here, Your Highness. Call me Kas.”

  “Thank you, Kas. You must call me Saif.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Kasteo shook his head and looked back at me. “So, you want to see Shani?”

  “Yep.”

  “I'll go with you. I wanna buy my girl something pretty anyway.”

  “Your girl?” I asked in surprise.

  Kasteo grinned. “Yeah, I've got myself a new kitty. She's beautiful and has some of the sharpest nails in the Bazaar.”

  Sharp nails on a female Cat-Shifter is akin to multiple tails on a Kitsune, which is to say; it's desirable.

  “Good for you, Kas,” I congratulated him, and I meant it. After the hell he'd been through recently, mostly due to a woman, he deserved some sharp nails in his back.

  “What does jewelry have to do with a seer?” Gage asked us.

  “Shani sells jewelry,” I explained. “She only does the psychic stuff by special request. I've never employed her myself but I've bought some nice necklaces from her.”

  “Then how do you know she's any good as a medium?” Torin asked.

  “Reputation, man,” Kasteo drawled. “Shani's the best in the Bazaar but you have to convince her you're worth her time before she makes the effort.”

  “Great.” Declan rolled his eyes. “A psychic diva.”

  “A psychic with standards,” I amended. “She doesn't deal with people asking about their loves lives or wanting to contact a dead pet.”

  “Fair enough,” Gage said.

  “People want to speak with their dead pets?” Darc asked.

  “You'd be surprised.” I widened my eyes at him.

  “But you're in luck. Shani happens to like me,” Kas boasted.

  “She does not,” I scoffed. “Shani thinks you're an annoying flirt and a thief.”

  “They all say that.” Kasteo rolled his eyes. “It's a way of reconciling themselves to the fact that I'm a one-woman man.”

  I chortled.

  “I am!” Kas declared. “I don't tom around.”

  “Maybe not anymore.” I made a face that declared what I thought the odds of that were.

  “Whatever,” Kas huffed and started to lead us through the press of shoppers and vendors; Beneathers going about their daily business.

  Felinae were prevalent in that stretch for obvious reasons but the Bazaar, although it had its racial communities, was not segregated per se. Beneathers of all kinds were welcome everywhere. Well, except the Troll Stretch. You'd be welcomed there but the Troll idea of hospitality tended toward the violent and their wares weren't anything to risk life and limb over. Which was why the Troll Stretch was at the far end of the Bazaar and usually inhabited by Trolls alone. But even the Trolls knew better than to make trouble outside their area of the Bazaar and although strident haggling could be heard, there were no sounds of fighting in the Felinae Stretch. That pastime was reserved for after dark when the naughty kitties came out to play.

  I breathed in deeply, aromas of exotic spices, baking bread, and syrupy sweets competing with the odor of the Felinae Fish Market; a collection of stalls selling fresh seafood. It was the only store of its kind in the Bazaar; a market within a market. The Felinae requested a dispensation to knock out the walls between the ground floors of three buildings just to make space for it. They received that dispensation because the rest of the Bazaar knew that the smell of one giant seafood market was easier to escape than that of several small seafood shops invading every stretch. Despite the offensive odor, everyone went to the Felinae Fish Market for their seafood; the Cats always had the best and freshest selection.

  The men wrinkled their noses as we passed the market's open arches, but Kas and I just grinned. It was just another scent of the Bazaar—a place I had called home for many years—and I loved it as much as the aroma of ferh—a drink the Dwarves made. Speaking of which...

  “Hold up, Kas,” I called as I veered right toward a Dwarf who was rolling his Fehr cart—a little metal thing with a steel carafe that stood taller than the Dwarf himself—through the street, searching for customers.

  The Dwarf stopped when he spotted me heading his way. He didn't smile—Dwarves don't generally grin without good reason—but he did nod politely.

  “Anyone else want a cup?” I looked back at the group over my shoulder.

  “I would like to try some,” Saif said eagerly. “It smells intriguing.”

  “One for me too,” Gage added as he joined us.

  “Three, please,” I said to the Dwarf.

  The short, bearded man nodded again and filled three paper cups from the spigot of his carafe. Steaming, thick, sweet, golden liquid filled them. He handed the cups to me, and I passed them to the men before taking my own and handing some money to the Dwarf.

  “No charge, Your Majesty,” the Dwarf said gruffly. “You saved my brother during the Satyr attack.”

  I paused. I didn't know this particular Dwarf but I did remember several of his kind fighting in the group I'd led through the Bazaar that day.

  “Thank you, but if I saved your brother it was only because he stood by me in battle and helped to give me the chance to save a lot of people.” I put the money in the man's hand and closed his fingers around it. “We saved this place together, which means that there's no debt. But I'll gladly accept your friendship, Mr... ?”

  “Call me Terol, if you please.” The Dwarf smiled, and I took that as the gift it was. “I'm honored to call you friend, Your Majesty.”

  “Elaria,” I insisted. “It's nice to meet you, Terol. Tell your brother I wish him well.”

  I lifted my cup in salute, a
nd he nodded to me before moving on.

  “You are a born leader, Queen Elaria,” Saif noted.

  “Saif, we're away from your court, could we dispense with titles?” I lifted a brow at him.

  “Happily,” he agreed then took a sip of his drink. He made a pleased sound. “This is fantastic!”

  “Stick with us, Saif,” Kas declared as he threw an arm around Saif's shoulders. “We'll show you the best the Bazaar has to offer.”