Master of None (31 page)

“Well, then. That is where we are going.”

At least it was close. I squeezed my eyes shut and kept them that way until we stopped moving. When I opened them again, we hovered above a cluster of pines across the road from the boneyard gates. A dark shape approached through the air. Tory and his two passengers resembled a deformed camel tossed from a catapult. The djinn looked exhilarated, the humans as if they’d just swallowed bugs.

I smirked. I wasn’t the only one who knew people were strictly ground animals.

We descended through close-set branches. I let go the instant Ian’s feet hit dirt and staggered away to lean against the nearest trunk. My legs shook like flagpoles in a hurricane. I was a cocktail fresh from the blender. Pulverized, not stirred.

Tory touched down a few feet away. Jazz disentangled herself fast and sat hard, barely avoiding breaking the mirror. “That sucked,” she said. “But thanks for not dropping me.”

Lark slid off with a prolonged moan to land in a heap. Tory turned and leaned down to him, and Lark muttered, “Don’t touch me. I like it here.”

Tory sighed and sat next to him with an exasperated expression.

I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t busy fighting the urge to puke. “Crud,” I said weakly. “Why does flying screw us up like this?”

Ian dropped to his haunches and hung his head, apparently in no great shape himself. “It is not your element.”

“Really. I hadn’t noticed.” At once, sitting seemed like the best idea since TV dinners. I obeyed the impulse and introduced my ass to the ground. “It’s not yours, either, is it?”

“More so than you but not by much. Tory’s clan is far more
skilled with air abilities.” He gave a soft laugh. “The wolf does not often fly.”

“So, what’s your clan skilled at? Biting?”

Ian shook his head. “It is not that simple. We are elemental beings, you and I. All of us. Fire and air, earth and water. Djinn and human. Like two halves of a whole that is more than the sum of its parts.”

“Okay. You lost me.”

“That is not difficult to accomplish.”

Jazz struggled to her feet and approached slowly. “All right, color me confused. What are we doing here—did somebody die?”

“We’re holing up,” I said.

“This is practically Trevor’s backyard.”

“Yeah. So if you were Trevor, would you look for us here?”

Jazz arched an eyebrow. “No,” she said. “Good thinking, Houdini.”

I grinned. “Watch it. If you keep complimenting me, I might think you care.”

“Couldn’t have that.” She gave me a smile that melted my bones.

“If you two are finished, let’s move,” Tory called. “We’re too exposed here.”

Ian nodded agreement. “Lead the way, thief.”

I really wished he hadn’t said that. Leading wasn’t my style. But at the moment, I didn’t have a choice.

A
T
LEAST IT WASN’T A SEWAGE PIPE
.

The Black Oaks Cemetery held the remains of enough people to populate Allegheny County twice. Situated on acres of flat land, it was divided into two sections. The front part was
laid out in a fairly open grid pattern, with paved drives dividing groups of graves. A wrought-iron fence spanned the length of the property near the road, and empty fields stretched back thirty feet to the first of the headstones. Plenty of room for more dead people.

About half a football field back from the road stood a ruler-straight line of tall, thick trees. Black oaks, I presumed. A break in the line marked a wide, worn stone path leading straight back. More trees grew at uniform attention along both sides of the path, and wooden benches had been placed every twenty feet or so, accompanied by old-fashioned gaslight-style lamp posts. For anyone who felt like hanging out in a graveyard after dark. The lamps hadn’t come on yet. We’d set a good pace, and it was still daylight when we limped collectively down the path. Almost dinnertime, my stomach reminded me. Sadly, the cemetery didn’t have a wide selection of restaurants. At least we had the prepackaged crap to tide us over.

The path led to the old section, with plenty of enclosed mausoleums and no mourners—unless the surrounding area was occupied by melancholy vampires. The tomb of the Trumbull family provided chambers hidden from casual view and a lovely selection of crypts to sleep on. Not exactly a Motel Six, but we’d be better off on graves than in them.

I entered first. I perched on a stone box that held the remains of
Joseph Trumbull, Who Departed This Lyfe on 2 Jan. 1909, He Sleeps in Jesus
and shrugged the hiking pack off, to the delight of my shoulders
.
I hoped Jesus made a comfortable resting place, because Joseph sure as hell didn’t.

Jazz plodded in and propped the mirror next to the entrance. She settled beside me, closed her eyes, and leaned back
without a word. Dark, deep hollows under her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. I wondered if she’d slept at all since she’d crossed over to the djinn realm.

Tory slumped against a wall and slid down to the floor. Lark all but collapsed next to him.

Ian entered last. He didn’t even try to sit down. “You must learn a few things before you rest, thief. Come here.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tory said. “What if he can’t do this? No offense, Delini, but you’re no djinn. And you’re ten or eleven generations removed from his line.”

I didn’t bother correcting him this time. “I’ll be fine.”
I hope.

“Maybe you will. All the same, Ian, I think we should get some help.”

Ian went still. “And who do you suggest we call on? Shamil? Perhaps you can locate other Bahari here in the next six hours. In case you have forgotten, Taregan, I am the only surviving Dehbei.”

Tory blanched. “I haven’t forgotten,” he whispered. “But we can still contact the Council. They’ll send reinforcements.”

“No, they will not. Your clan leader has persuaded the Council not to interfere. No one will come to assist me, whether or not you are involved.”

“What about Akila?”

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “I will not risk her life. And you should know better than to ask such a thing, for your
rayani
to betray her father’s directives. No, we do this alone.”

“Then we die!”

“It is possible. However, the most likely outcome is that I will die. The rest of you will survive, and my death should be incentive enough for your leader, in his infinite wisdom, to act against the Morai. At the least, it will please him.” Ian made
a rough grab for the mirror. “Donatti, if you do not mind, I would prefer that we practice outside.”

He stalked out without waiting for an answer.

Although the last thing I wanted right now was to torture myself trying to use magic, I decided it’d be less painful than what would happen if Ian didn’t get some distance between himself and Tory. “Jazz,” I said gently.

She opened her eyes. “They still catting?”

“No.” I glanced at Tory, but he’d turned his attention to making Lark comfortable. “I’d better go with Ian. Do you want to come out with me?” I had the feeling things might get a little tense in here.

Jazz seemed to understand my unvoiced concern. “I’ll be fine. Wanted to check on Lark anyway, make sure he’s had enough fluid.” She eased forward, stood, and stretched. “Go. Do what you have to.”

“Right.” I let out a breath. “Sorry about all this. Soon as we’re clear of Trevor, I’ll try to explain everything to you. It’s a long story.”

“I know.” She smiled. “Akila gave me a crash course in djinn politics.”

“Oh.” I should’ve guessed that. Jazz didn’t enjoy not being as informed as possible. She probably had better stories than I did. I hoped I’d get the opportunity to hear them someday.

“You should get out there. Ian’s waiting for you.”

“Yeah, I guess I should.”

She brushed my arm and moved toward Lark and Tory. I grabbed a bottle of water and an energy bar from the pack, hoping to ply my protesting body with food and drink, and headed out after Ian. Outside, I found him leaning against the outer wall of the mausoleum. “Hey. You all right?”

“Yes. Fine,” he said, sounding anything but. “My apologies, thief. I did not realize Taregan was so opposed to your assistance.”

“Yeah, me, neither.” Unfortunately, I could see Tory’s point. It would be safer if we had another djinn or two. Or a hundred. Taking on Trevor was risky, even as just a regular brutal, underhanded bastard. Now he was a bastard with power. Damn near untouchable.

But there was no one else. Just a couple of djinn, two humans, and a whatever I was.

Ian straightened and propped the mirror upright. “There are three components to forming a bridge. Symbol, words, intention. The intention is the most difficult to master, because it is imprecise.”

“Well, let’s just jump right in,” I muttered. “It’s not like I just robbed a store and burned up my reserves or anything.”

“We have no time to waste. Power takes time to rebuild, and you must be as close to full strength as possible when we attempt this for real.”

I sighed and shuffled over to him. “Okay. Let’s do the easy part first.”

“You’ll use my symbol. You are my descendant, so it should work.”

“Should?”

“It will work.” Ian frowned, pointed to the mirror. “Pay attention.”

“Sorry.”

“Do you know how to form the symbol?”

“Yeah. In blood. There’s a wavy line and a dot . . .”

“Show me.”

Crud. I was hoping this would be more of a theory lesson.
I used the knife to slice my left index finger and smeared what looked like a reasonable facsimile of Ian’s squiggles onto the top corner of the mirror. “Right?”

“Good enough.” Ian stepped back and motioned for me to stand before the glass. “With the words, you must have the intention. Concentrate on your destination, and call on the desire to bring it to you.”

“Hold on. I’m supposed to bring some other place to me?”

Ian made an exasperated sound. “You simply have to desire being there.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“The words,” he said sharply. “
Insha no imil, kubri ana bi-sur’u wasta.
”

I blinked. “That’s a lot of words.”

“Say them.”

I tried. And failed spectacularly.

Frustration flooded Ian’s face. He drew a quick breath, held it, and exhaled slowly. “All right. Move away for a moment.” A half-smile tugged his mouth. “I have never found occasion to teach this to anyone, you know.”

“Yeah. I guess it’s pretty natural for a djinn.” I stepped aside and tried to recall the words in my head, but all I could come up with was
eenie meenie miney moe.
That probably wouldn’t cut it. “Can you say the middle part again?”

Instead of replying, he moved behind me and gripped my shoulders. “Try to relax. Close your eyes.”

I did, hoping he wasn’t going to give me a massage. “I don’t know how relaxed I’m going to get here.”

“Silence, thief. Listen.” He paused, then repeated the incantation. It still sounded like gibberish to me. “Do not attempt to memorize the sounds and spit them back out. Feel
the words, understand their shape. You have this knowledge already—find it.” He said them again.

This time, a glimmer of understanding penetrated. My mind automatically translated part of the chant:
Go quickly and connect.
I stood trying to tune out everything but the words and plant them in my brain.

At last, I opened my eyes. “I think I got it.”

“Try again.” Ian released me. “Remember to focus on your intention, your destination.”

“Wait. What’s my destination?”

“Oh.” Ian cleared his throat. “Yes. You should not attempt to arrive in Trevor’s basement yet.” He scanned the area, and his gaze fell on the water bottle I’d left by the entrance. He grabbed it, twisted the top off, and poured the water carefully into a small stone basin next to the doorway. “This will do for the moment.”

“Uh . . . Ian, I don’t think I’m going to fit in there.” The basin was about two feet in diameter, and the puddle he’d created was considerably smaller.

“You do not have to pass completely through to test the bridge. Just put your hand inside.”

“Right. No problem,” I lied. I stared at the basin, trying to establish it as where I wanted to be. It wasn’t easy—I wanted to be in some tropical foreign country, with Jazz and Cyrus, where no goon or evil djinn would ever find us. But that wouldn’t happen until I figured out how to work this bridge trick.

Finally, I faced the mirror and projected my intentions.

“
Insha no imil, kubri ana bi-sur’u wasta.
” The sound of my own voice surprised me. My lips moved almost automatically, and the words came out low and rhythmic, the same under-breath chant Ian used. I felt my chest tighten, my limbs thread
with painful tingling. The surface of the mirror rippled and shivered. My reflection vanished. Distorted, cloud-spotted blue sky took its place. I glanced at Ian. He nodded.

I held out a hand, hesitated, and eased fingertips against the mirror. Through the mirror. A freezing sensation penetrated my flesh and bit clear to bone. It was like reaching into a snow bank. When it disappeared to the wrist, I risked a look at the basin.

My hand jutted from the water, solid and undamaged.

I wiggled my fingers and watched them wave at me from way over there. I yanked my arm back with a strangled yelp. “Christ. That’s just . . . ugh. Glad I don’t have to see that again.” I shook my hand viciously to make sure it was still attached. It didn’t fall off, but imaginary pins and needles crawled around my wrist and up my palm.

“Well done, thief.” Ian sat cross-legged on the ground and motioned me to join him. “Just one further task before you rest.”

“Is that all?” I sank down on the grass, already feeling the drain. “What now, flying? Honestly, if that’s it, don’t trouble yourself. I’d rather swim in a cesspool.”

Ian withdrew his false tether from a pocket. “You must learn to destroy these.”

“Come on, Ian. We won’t have to—”

“Nevertheless,” he said firmly, “you will learn. Perhaps you will have the opportunity to destroy Lenka’s tether first.”

I grimaced. “You didn’t sound very convincing. Wanna try and tell me that again?”