Harley Merlin 12 Read online

  “You must do this… Kadar,” he rasped, those telltale eyes unfocused. “Go to… the homeland. Find… the Storyteller. She may be our only… hope to remedy… this. Finch’s problem… is of lesser… importance.”

  Pfft. To you, maybe.

  “Though… they may be… intertwined.” He coughed violently, his scarlet skin phasing in and out like a Rorschach test on steroids. “You must… stop this before… the djinn lose… control.”

  Santana strode up to Kadar and grasped his hand. “I’m coming with you.”

  “I don’t think Raffe will like that,” Kadar replied. I got the feeling Kadar wasn’t crazy about the idea, either.

  She shot him a cold glare. “Tough.”

  Zalaam wheezed a laugh. “Oh, I wouldn’t… mess with this… bruja if I were you, my son.”

  I had to smile. Nope, neither would I.

  Fourteen

  Raffe

  A couple hours later, Krieger discharged me from the infirmary and Kadar retreated. The doctor gave me a pouch of magical herbs to help me cope with the stress of my sleepless djinn. A pungent blend of Lullaby Weeds, to smell or ingest depending on the severity of Kadar’s potential outbursts—sniffing them would put us to sleep while taking them would knock us out for days. My father needed more attention, and I didn’t mind resorting to self-care if it meant Krieger could focus on him.

  “I’m sorry about last night.” I sat on the edge of my bed, glad to be back in my own room. Home had a way of easing pain in a way the infirmary never could. I could’ve sworn they designed medical facilities specifically to freak people out, with brutal strip-lighting and muted colors.

  Santana flicked through channels on the TV as Slinky twisted across the floor and up onto the bed beside me. “It wasn’t your fault, mi amor.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m not sorry.” I rubbed my hands down my thighs, attempting to release the tension in my muscles. Slinky rested his head on my leg, staring up expectantly until I ruffled his feathers. “You told Finch your heart broke. I can’t ignore something like that.”

  “You’re alive, that’s all that matters.” She kept her back to me, forgetting that I could see her profile in the wall mirror. Her face contorted in a mask of anguish as she bit her bottom lip to hide her pain. I’d seen her do the same thing countless times before when she had to deal with something she didn’t want to confront.

  “I won’t let it happen again.” I had no idea if I could keep that promise. I hoped that now that we had a chance of fixing this by finding the Storyteller, Kadar might be less inclined to do us permanent harm.

  Santana’s shoulders sagged. “You didn’t see him, Raffe. He looked so… done with the world. It wasn’t a bluff. He really did throw himself off that building intending to kill you both.”

  “Is that why you’re insisting on coming to the UAE?” I didn’t mean it unkindly.

  “Yeah, it is. From now on, you and Kadar don’t leave my sight. If I had to sit and twiddle my thumbs waiting for you to return, I think I’d end up with my own bag of herbs.” She tried to laugh, but it echoed false.

  I tucked my legs underneath me, absently petting the feathered serpent. “You don’t have to put us on suicide watch, Santana. We have hope now that we didn’t before, and that’s enough to keep Kadar going. He won’t toss that aside until he’s investigated our options fully.”

  “I’m not putting you on suicide watch. I’m here, and I’m coming with you, because I love you.” She finally turned to look at me. “I almost lost you. I never want to be in that position again.”

  And if we reach a crossroads, where you want something I can’t give? What if we have to let each other go? To my mind, that would be more painful. To know it was nothing either of us had done, yet we couldn’t overcome it. To come so far only to lose each other anyway. She deserved the world. She deserved that galaxy—the one Wade wanted to give Harley.

  “What’s going on with you lately?” She sat on the chair by my desk. “I say, ‘I love you,’ and you don’t say anything back. It’s happened more times than I can count, all this blowing hot and cold on me. And you know I hate the cold. I keep trying to convince myself it’s just Kadar’s sickness, but it started before that. Have I done something? Do you not want this anymore? If that’s the case, all you have to do is—”

  “I love you, Santana,” I cut in. I didn’t want to hear the rest of that sentence. “I love you so much. You haven’t done anything, and I’m sorry I made you think that. It has nothing to do with me not wanting this anymore.”

  She lifted her head. “Then what is it? If you still love me, why have you pushed me away? At first, I thought I was imagining things. You know, not holding my hand, or telling me you were busy only for me to find out you’d gone to the pool. I’m not crazy, I know people need their own space, and I’ve got no issue with that. But then there were other things, like you leaving the Banquet Hall when I arrived, not replying to messages for hours even though I could see you’d read them, not answering the door when I knocked, and not saying ‘I love you’ back.”

  Slinky looked up at me with the same sad eyes as his Purger. I looked away. “I’m sorry, Santana. I know I’ve been acting like a jerk.”

  “I just want to know why, because it feels like you don’t care anymore.” Her voice hitched. I hated seeing her so vulnerable and hurt. I hated it more, knowing I’d caused her to feel this.

  “I do care. I really do.” I paused, trying to put my words in order. “I don’t want to see you in pain. That isn’t my intention at all.”

  An exasperated sigh escaped her lips. “I’m confused, Raffe. Nothing you’re saying makes sense. If you love me and you still care, why are you trying to put a wedge between us? Is it Kadar? Does he not want you to be with me anymore?”

  “That couldn’t be further from the truth,” I assured her. “I know I’ve been an ass. It’s just… we have to figure some things out, Kadar and me. And those things hinge on the possibility that the Storyteller can cure us.”

  It was a huge if, but maybe the Storyteller could solve more than just our present djinn problem. Maybe she’d know a way to reduce the risk of harm to Santana if we decided to build a life together. If that were possible, I wouldn’t have to keep pushing Santana away. Trying to be blunt with her now and telling her I couldn’t be with her because I couldn’t give her what she wanted would only result in her telling me not to be an idiot.

  We’d been through the rigmarole before. We’d started discussing the future, I’d told her my fears of her dying in childbirth from a djinn Purge, and she’d shrugged it off. It was as predictable as clockwork. That was the trouble with falling for a fearless Santeria. Nothing frightened her. Not even the Levi curse.

  “My symbiotic friend has a point.” Kadar rose to the surface for a moment, though still mostly zonked out from the Lullaby Weeds. “We need to focus on the UAE and the Storyteller now. No time for mortal paranoia. He loves you. You love him. Give it a rest.”

  I shoved him down. The Lullaby Weeds affected him more than me. I’d already metabolized them while he remained drowsy, which made him easier to push to the bottom of my consciousness.

  “Sorry about that,” I said. “He’s eager to head out on this mission, and, honestly, so am I. This could solve all our problems.”

  “All of them?” She raised an eyebrow.

  I offered her a loving smile. “I hope so.”

  “Then why are we waiting?” She went to my closet and pulled down a bag. “We can use one of the mirrors to get to the Dubai Coven, find some leads on this Storyteller, and work our way forward from there. It’s the biggest coven in the UAE, so it’s a decent place to start.”

  “Dubai it is,” I replied, praying this trip would help salvage my relationships with the two people I held dearest: the one I’d been “cursed” to spend my life with, and the one I hoped I’d get the chance to spend my life with. If I lost either, it’d kill me.

  Fifteen


  Finch

  While Raffe and Kadar prepped for their Arabian Nights adventure, I had other fish to fry. A big, ugly trout by the name of Erebus. Or was I the trout, dangling on his hook? Either way, he’d texted and given me another unexpected reason to get suited and booted. I hated to say it, but it almost sounded like a date. A pushy one, at that:

  Dear Flinch,

  Your presence is required at Gatsby’s Speakeasy at two o’clock. I assume you can locate the a dress with your cellular device’s mop function? Dress well, or as well as you are capable. I would prefer it if you did not look out of place. Do not be late. I will be waiting under the name Mr. Erebus.

  Best regards,

  Erebus.

  I didn’t want him to think I was too obedient, so I’d gone for the same silky monstrosity I’d worn at Ignatius’s and my trusty pair of black jeans. Gatsby’s Speakeasy was a snazzy joint on the pricey side of San Diego, famed for its fishbowl-sized gin cocktails and wealthy clientele. They’d no doubt sniff out my measly bank account from a mile away. But at least this shirt screamed money, and plenty of it.

  Weirdly, Gatsby’s was as human and magicless as Astrid, not exactly the vibe I’d expect Erebus to go for. Maybe he had developed a taste for the finer things in human life, though I imagined he’d had to use a blanket spell on the staff and clientele to draw any unwanted attention away from his distinctly unnatural appearance. Even in ‘human’ form, he didn’t exactly look human. But at least this wasn’t a shady alleyway in some eerie industrial park. Small mercies.

  I pulled up in a cab and stepped out, letting the cabbie go, since it’d be easy to get another from here. If Erebus kept calling me like this, he’d end up with a hefty invoice for all my travel expenses.

  The exterior didn’t look like much—a drab brick building with a tiny sign above the door spelling out the name. If you didn’t know it was here, you’d walk right past it. Very in-keeping with the speakeasy aesthetic. Well, if you ignored the burly bouncers on standby. I broadened my shoulders, puffed out my chest, and strode right up to the door. I’d prepared a speech and everything, but the bouncers nodded and let me through.

  Your loss. It would’ve been Oscar-winning.

  My jaw dropped as I entered the bar. The interior was a world away from the unassuming outside. Red velvet curtains, dark wood paneling, crystal chandeliers, and circular tables with hooded lampshades casting a saucy glow on everything. I pictured old-timey chaps wooing their chapettes over sidecars or whispering furtively about their next heist. Even in my fancy shirt, I felt woefully underdressed. The bartenders were in tuxedos while the hostesses sauntered about in sparkling flapper dresses. A little sexist, sure, but I didn’t run the place.

  “Good afternoon, sir.” One of the penguin-suited hosts greeted me. “Do you have a reservation?”

  I started to answer when a figure at the main bar caught my attention. She sat directly in the center, her legs crossed elegantly over a twisting barstool, her body turning slightly to the side as though offering a better look. Long blonde hair cascaded past her shoulders in loose curls while a white, sequined dress pooled downward. “Mesmerizing” didn’t cut the mustard. And she clearly knew I was watching.

  She glanced over her shoulder in a majestic display of choreography, and a pair of twinkling, pale yellow eyes stared into mine. This bar might not have been magical, but those eyes were unlike anything I’d ever seen before. And that shrieked magical.

  No… it can’t be. I physically flinched at the sight of her. Probably not the effect she wanted. But her movements, fluid and dancer-like, and the glitzy white dress, reminded me so much of Katherine in Imogene’s guise. Panic struck me like a thunderbolt of bad memories, and it brought a storm of paranoia with it. What if Katherine was still alive? I’d used her image to trick Davin in the Jubilee mine, but what if that had been a sick irony? What if she’d tricked us into believing she was gone, while she’d bided her time? What if Erebus had double-crossed me in Elysium and somehow spared Katherine? What if this woman was her? And what if I’d walked right into her trap?

  “Sir?” the host prompted, but I barely heard him.

  Snap out of it, idiot! She’s dead. You killed her. You watched her die. Common sense kicked in. Erebus had hated my mother as much as anyone. He’d been chomping at the bit to end her when he took over my body to make it happen. I’d felt his excitement. There was no way he’d given her a hall pass out of her demise.

  “Sir? Do you have a reservation?” The host sounded impatient.

  The mesmerizing stranger smiled and raised a champagne glass to me before stepping from her barstool and heading for a doorway in the back wall. She paused for a moment and sipped from her glass, beckoning for me to follow.

  “I’m… with her.” I gestured to the beautiful woman. It was as though someone had taken over my voice-box. I felt compelled to say it. A magnetism drew me to her. I knew it was magic of some kind, but I was helpless to do anything but obey her call.

  The host’s mouth fell open. “You?”

  “Yes, me,” I replied coolly. Way to give a guy a complex.

  “Very good, sir.” The host stepped aside, giving me free rein to go after the curious minx. I mean, where was the harm in following a mysterious, insanely hot woman through unknown territory? Thinking of it that way didn’t make it sound wise, but wise could take a long walk off a short pier. Common sense had vacated the building. My mind demanded I forget my apprehension. Not my gremlins… something else. It wasn’t all that often a pretty woman wanted my attention, and it wasn’t like I had reason not to give it. Ryann had a boyfriend. I could do what I liked. And maybe a drink with a siren would get my mind off Ryann Smith.

  Curiouser and curiouser… A white rabbit, or, rather, a white-dressed beauty, leading me astray. It certainly piqued my interest. And I still had fifteen minutes before my meeting with Erebus.

  Aware of the host watching enviously, I strode through the tables and up to the doorway where the stranger had disappeared. A strange unease grew at the thought of losing her. The door led to a hallway with multiple doors branching off. The woman paused beside the very last one and went inside. I followed her footsteps, edging into the room beyond—a private suite, with velveteen sofas and a table set with dinner service resting beside a small pool of water, with a flowing fountain in the center. She stood looking into it, her dress sparkling in the ambient light.

  “Did you want me to follow you?” I found my voice. I felt pretty sure this was what she’d intended.

  She turned, a satisfied smile on her perfectly red lips. “Oh yes, very much so.”

  “Why did—” I didn’t get to finish. She lifted her hand and snapped, and the door slammed shut behind me. If it looks too good to be true… I darted back toward the door and tried it, but it held fast.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble.” I pressed against the doorway, the magnetic allure evaporating. Fear replaced it. Yeah, this woman had definitely done something to me to get me in here.

  “Neither do I.” She laughed softly. “Come closer, Finch. I promise I won’t bite.”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine here.” My eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”

  “You don’t recognize me?” She sipped her drink delicately. “Disappointing. But then, I don’t look the way I normally do, and you deal mostly with my husband.”

  Lux.

  I relaxed slightly. “But… how can it be you? Last I checked, you weren’t wandering around Earth, free as you pleased.” Although, I can’t say the same for your hubby.

  “I borrowed this form from one of my priestesses. She was only too grateful to be permitted this gift,” Lux replied. “Apologies for the subterfuge that led you here. A simple spell, which will have no lasting effects. I did not know how you might respond if I demanded you come with me.”

  Yeah, I’d have run like a bat out of hell. Meatloaf-style. I skimmed over that and focused on the weird part. Children of Chaos bending me to the
ir will was nothing new, after all.

  “You have priestesses?” Man, I could fill a book with things I didn’t know about the Children of Chaos and their idiosyncrasies.

  She sat on the fountain wall. “A select handful of beautiful young women worship me. They are devoted to the name of Lux, or the Light, as they sometimes prefer to call me.”

  “So you can just hop into a meatsuit whenever you feel like a jaunt through the real world?” I gaped at her.

  “You find that difficult to believe?” Lux set down her champagne flute and leaned back, a little too seductively for my liking. “Unlike other Children, Light has always found a way in the world. I suppose that is because Light is sought by so many, to see them through Darkness. Unfortunately, I can only maintain this presence for a very short time.”

  I gave a low whistle. “You held that card close.”

  “Out of necessity,” she replied. “Children are envious creatures, by nature, and they would seek the same for themselves if they knew it could be done.”

  Except your darling husband, who resorted to draining the Fountain of Youth for a more permanent fix. I didn’t say it. After all, I didn’t know how much she knew. She had to be keeping an eye on her pesky beloved, but I had no clue how much spying a Child of Chaos could do on another Child of Chaos.

  My insides turned to jelly. Lux exuded calm, but her voice held a cold note that made the hairs on the back of my neck stick up. Being the so-called Light didn’t make her Miss Goody Two-Shoes. She’d been on my side whenever she caught Erebus hounding me about my missions, but there’d always been something… off about her. Once again, if something looked too good to be true, it probably was. And it wasn’t as if I could leave. She’d locked the door.

  What did she want from me?

  “I’m guessing you didn’t bring me here to flaunt your human form. It’s a good ’un, I’ll give you that, but you wouldn’t be locking doors unless you wanted something from me or you were in the mood to break marriage vows. I’d like to flatter myself, but I don’t think the latter is what’s on your mind.”