Master and Apprentice (11 page)

He looked at me with sunken eyes, and his voice emerged hoarse and hollow. “The full measure of the curse will pass to you.”

I felt like I’d swallowed hot charcoal. If full measure meant I’d attract the kind of misfortune Ian had experienced, I wouldn’t last an hour if he died. Painful and debilitating to a djinn was deadly to humans—like my parents, whoever they’d been. This curse had probably killed them. And if it took me out after Ian, Cyrus would inherit the damned thing.

I downed another mouthful of flat beer, trying to convince myself it was the taste that burned my eyes.

I
an left for his apartment, pleading exhaustion. Not that I didn’t buy it. I did, however, envy his ability to get back to sleep. There was no way I’d see the other side of consciousness for a while—unless someone brained me with a blunt object in the near future. Which was unfortunately a good possibility considering my change of luck.

I gathered the empties and the last full can, and headed back inside. An ordinary silence waited for me. Nothing ominous in the hum of the refrigerator or the soft slap of my feet on the linoleum. I opened the pantry to toss the cans in the trash, and the upper shelf didn’t throw a bracket and dump canned goods on my head. No rabid raccoons hid in the shadows. I didn’t even get a splinter or stub my toe.

Glowering at nothing in particular, I shut the pantry. This was stupid. I couldn’t let a little bad luck—okay, a lot of bad luck, if the past was any indication—throw me off my game. I had bigger worries. Like a pack of murderous half-Morai who shouldn’t exist, and being an accessory-by-omission to the impending murder of a monk. Imagining what might happen was pointless. Especially since reality
was likely to outdo anything I could come up with in my head.

Though my appetite had fled some time around the revelation that I was cursed, I decided I should eat something anyway. I started a pot of coffee and contemplated breakfast in terms of available resources. Plenty of food, plenty of clean dishes, but a shortage of culinary skills limited my options to cereal or scrambled eggs. Since eggs would involve pans and spatulas and other hi-tech gadgets I didn’t feel prepared to deal with on the bare side of dawn, I poured myself some cornflakes and settled at the table to wait on becoming caffeinated.

A few mouthfuls into my feast, Jazz entered the kitchen looking like a bear dragged from hibernation in February. She’d thrown on sweats and a frayed T-shirt, and her cap of dark hair lay pillow matted against her head. Her mismatched eyes peered at me with the suspicion of a cop reading a phony license. “You’re not sleeping,” she said.

“Neither are you.” I smiled and flourished my spoon. “Want some breakfast? I make a mean bowl of cereal.”

“Ugh. Coffee done yet?”

“Should be close.” I pushed back from the table, went to the counters and fished two mugs from a cabinet. The pot was almost full. While the machine wheezed and hissed out the last dregs of water, I got the half-and-half out of the fridge. We were polar opposites when it came to coffee. She took a drizzle of lightener and just enough sugar to coat a wet spoon, or she’d drink it black in a pinch. I liked a little coffee with my sugar and cream. I fixed the cups and brought them back to the table. Jazz, who’d taken a seat, watched me with that same wary expression.

“I don’t think things are going to work out for us,” she said.

I froze halfway to my chair. “Come again?”

“You’re a morning person.” Her inflection suggested this offense was graver than murdering puppies or being a Jerry Springer fan. “I can’t believe you never told me.”

“Hey, nobody’s perfect.” I tried to keep my tone light so she wouldn’t hear how much she’d scared me. She was the one thing I couldn’t lose again. “I don’t bag on you for your flaws.”

“And what would those be?”

“For one thing, you don’t wet your toothbrush.

Freak.” She made a sound that could’ve been a laugh, and sipped her coffee. “Mmm. Okay, I forgive you.” She folded both hands around the mug. One finger caressed the rim, an unconscious and idly sensual gesture. “Seriously, what’s got you bright eyed at six in the morning? I figured you’d sleep until dinner, at least.”

“I’m worried about global warming.”

“Gimme a break.”

“The rain forest?”

“Strike two.” She flashed a concerned smile. “Spill. What’s on your mind?”

“Well …” I toyed with my coffee cup and tried to find words. How could I tell her that I had a life-threatening curse, and that there was a good chance our son would suffer for it?
It’s like this, babe. Cyrus inherited your hair, my eyes, your skin, and my drastically reduced life expectancy.
Somehow I didn’t think that would go over well. “A dream woke me up. Bad one,” I said. “Then I came down here, and Ian was drinking my beer.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.” I slugged back some coffee, frowned. “So we had a chat.”

“About that Morai you ran into?”

“More or less.”

“What else?”

I stared at the table. It’d probably be better to just blurt it out, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I decided to ease into the subject. “How’s Cyrus doing?”

“He’s fine. And that’s not what I asked you.” She glanced back toward the doorway. “But speaking of Cy … we need to talk.”

I bit my lip. That was female code for
I’m unhappy about something and it’s your fault.
“Whatever it is, I’m completely innocent,” I said.

“Uh-huh.” If the sarcasm were any thicker, she could’ve painted with it.

I opened my mouth to protest again, and the sound of small feet bumping down the stairs drifted in. After a minute, Cyrus stopped in the doorway and blinked blearily at us. “Hi, Daddy. Mommy, can I watch cartoons?”

“Sure, baby. I’ll fix us some breakfast.” She stood, caught my gaze, and mouthed
Talk later.

I turned my attention to Cy. “Hey, big guy. Did I miss anything exciting while I was gone?”

He nodded solemnly. “I catched a snake.”

“You did, huh?” I stifled a laugh. “Mommy must’ve enjoyed that.”

“Aunt ’Kila said good job, but Mommy wouldn’t come see.”

“I’ll bet.” I grinned and winked at Jazz. She rolled her eyes. Her and snakes got along like salt and slugs.

Cyrus yawned wide enough to showcase his tonsils, then his face lit up in a beaming smile. “Daddy, watch this!”

Before I could say
I’m watching,
he disappeared.

When Jazz didn’t scream, I assumed she’d seen this before. “So, this is what you wanted to talk about, right?”

She nodded. Her eyes didn’t leave the spot where
Cyrus had been just seconds ago. “Can you see him?” she whispered.

“I’m right here, Mommy.” Cy’s voice, minus his visible presence, was a lot creepier than Ian’s when he was invisible. “I’m all shiny. See?”

“Oh, boy.” I moved closer to him and crouched down. “Cy, that’s pretty cool,” I said. “Does it hurt?”

“It feels funny.”

“Yeah, it usually does.” I held an arm out. “Can you grab my hand?”

“Sure, Daddy.”

A quick intake of breath from Jazz marked the moment he made contact. Now I could see him, and the shimmer-haze that enveloped both of us. “Wow, Cyrus,” I said. “When did you learn how to do this?”

“Dunno.”

“Okay. Will you do something for me? I want you to let go of my hand, and take Mommy’s. All right?”

“Donatti, I don’t know about that. I mean, I’m not … like you guys.”

I let go of Cy. Straightened, and smiled at her. “Trust me.”

“Sure. Trust you.” But she knelt down and extended her arm for the unseen Cyrus. “Okay, baby. Go ahead.”

An instant later, Jazz popped out of sight.

“Whoa.”

I had to laugh. “When he does that, you’ll be able to see him anytime you’re touching him. And no one else can see you.”

“So I’m invisible.”

“Yep.”

At once, they both flashed back. Cyrus frowned. “What’s ivin-zee-bo?”

“It means shiny.” Jazz shot me a look, and I kept my mouth
shut. “Cy, why don’t you go out and put some cartoons on? Breakfast’ll be ready in a minute.”

“ ’Kay.”

We watched him wander in the direction of the living room, and I turned a skeptical look on Jazz. “Shiny?” I said. “Why didn’t you just tell him what it means?”

“Because if he knows nobody can see him, he’ll disappear when he’s supposed to take a bath, or eat vegetables, or anything else he doesn’t feel like doing.” She exhaled and ran a hand down her face. “Other moms just worry about potty training and puberty. I get Invisible Boy.”

“Come on, babe. It’s not that bad.”

She glared at me. Without a word, she turned away and headed for the fridge.

I watched her yank out a box of frozen waffles and tear the top open. She probably wished it was my head. “Jazz, I’m sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t sure what to be sorry for. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing.”

The single word was a bullet—and it hurt just as much. My mouth opened, but no sound emerged, so I closed it. I tried again. Couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Jazz slammed the box down with a low curse and leaned on the counter, head hanging. “Look, Gavyn …” She drew in a sharp breath, and kept her gaze averted. “When I found out I was pregnant, and you were gone, I made a decision. I was going to raise my baby. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. But I also knew it could be done. There’s a lot of single parents out there—”

“Christ. Twist the knife a little harder, Jazz.”

“Let me finish.” She straightened, looked at me, and her eyes were diamonds. Glittering and hard. “I was ready for it. I understood the rules. Then you came back and broke them all.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want me around?”

“No. Shut up and listen for a minute.”

I just about had to bite my tongue, but I obliged.

She folded her arms and stared at nothing. “It’s not you. It’s the other stuff. All this … magic.” Her mouth twisted around the word. “That part of him, of both of you, I’ll never understand. I can’t connect with it. There aren’t any rules to follow.” For an instant, her habitual iron confidence evaporated and she looked small and lost. “Things will never be normal for us. That’s hard for me to face.”

Something heavy lodged in my chest. I wanted to tell her she was wrong, assure her that everything would be all right—but a lie that big would hurt both of us. And I couldn’t part with the truth either. I’d left her in the first place because I didn’t want to let her down, the way I did everyone else I knew. But I’d screwed her over even more by coming back.

She must’ve read the devastation in my face, because she approached me and took my hand. “Don’t,” she whispered. “We’ll find a way. I just need a little space right now, okay? Time to think.”

“Yeah. Guess I do too.” I swallowed hard. The lump in my throat stayed put. “I’m gonna step outside and smoke.”

Jazz didn’t object. No matter how much I wished she would.

I slipped out the back door and circled around to the garage, where I kept my smokes on the ground floor. Once again, I was fucking everything up without even trying. Donatti’s Luck Strikes Back. With a vengeance.

I
wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting on the garage floor and staring out the open door, but it must’ve been awhile. Long enough to smoke four cigarettes that I didn’t even remember lighting. If I’d been pondering the meaning of life, I could’ve arrived at a conclusion by now—but I wasn’t thinking much. I couldn’t get past the idea that I was completely screwed.

Finally, I decided sitting around feeling sorry for myself was counterproductive. I could be failing to sleep instead. I stood, indulged in a brief stretch—and only incurred a minor heart attack when I realized I wasn’t alone. “Hey, Princess,” I said after my pulse throttled down to a mild sprint. “Want my last beer? Ian drank the rest.”

Akila wrinkled her nose. “I had wondered what that stench was.” She approached for a few steps and stopped. “I assume he has explained the
ham’tari
to you.”

“Yep.” I lit a fresh smoke. Lung cancer was pretty low on my list of deadly possibilities right now. “Can’t say it made me feel better, but at least I know.”

“I hope you will not hold it against him. He is not at fault.”

I shook my head. “You really do love the grumpy bastard, don’t you?”

“I do.” She smiled and touched her thumb to the base of her left index finger. A glowing gold band shone there briefly. Ian had the same enchanted ring. I’d gotten a crash course in djinn marriage from him—they bonded for life, and only death could shatter the rings that symbolized the bond. “For the sake of the gods I am sometimes not certain why, but I do.”

“Yeah. I hear that.” I’d given Jazz plenty of reasons not to love me. And I still had at least one more to lay out. It’d be a miracle if she didn’t gut me after I finally managed to explain the damned curse.

Since envisioning Jazz pounding my face in didn’t exactly lift my spirits, I tried for a change of subject. “How’d you and Ian hook up, anyway? I thought your clans didn’t mix.”

Akila’s smile faltered, and her gaze flicked up to where Ian presumably slept above us. “Perhaps you should ask my husband,” she said.

“I’m asking you.” I gave her my best trust-me grin. “Come on, Princess. What happened to the lady who told her husband exactly where he could stick the idea of sending her back to the djinn realm without him?”

She laughed. “Very well. But it is a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

Akila nodded and made her way to one of the lawn chairs near the garage door. She sat, and I leaned back on the hood of Jazz’s Hummer. It took her a minute to get started. At last she said, “We were quite young. Not yet a century, either of us. Then, my father was considering a marriage proposal made for me by the cousin of a Bahari High Council member.”

I frowned. “So the djinn practice arranged marriages?”

“Only among the nobility.” She cast her gaze down for an instant. “His name was Nurien. He and his father had been living at the palace for several weeks. Though he was merely a century
older, at the time he was twice my age—and I did not like him.”