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Not a comforting fact.
We slipped into the underground tunnels, the echo of our footsteps a stark reminder that we were venturing into the belly of the beast—or in this case, the lair of an ifrit king with a penchant for melodrama and pyrotechnics.
“Keep your eyes peeled, Tessa,” Riker murmured, scanning the shadows. “Djinn magic is tricky. It’s all smoke and mirrors until it’s not.”
“Got it. Watch for smoke, dodge the mirrors,” I said, my voice a hushed whisper against the stillness. I could almost taste the magic in the air—metallic and tinged with sulfur, like a match struck in the dark.
“Exactly.” He flashed me a grim smile, his profile ghostly in the sparse light filtering through cracks in the ceiling. “And try not to set anything on fire with your sass.”
“Hey, my sass only ignites hearts, not tunnels,” I said back, but the levity didn’t quite reach my chest, coiled tight with tension.
We rounded a bend, and there stood Zayn’s underling, as nonchalant as if he were waiting for a bus rather than lurking in a subterranean network like some kind of mythological creep.
I suspected he was a lesser djinn, for all his smoky skin and eyes like burning coals. His presence curled around us, heat radiating off him in waves.
“King Zayn awaits,” he intoned, and I rolled my eyes. Did they take pompous lessons as part of their djinn training?
“Lead the way then, Smokey,” I replied, unable to resist the jab. Riker shot me a warning glance, the ‘behave yourself’ kind. I shrugged in response, allowing myself to be led forward by the living ember.
As we followed him through the labyrinthine tunnels, I felt the subtle shift in the air—the temperature rising, the tang of magic growing stronger, the impending confrontation pressing down on us.
“Remember, just talk. We’re here to talk,” I muttered to myself, though whether it was a reminder or a mantra, I wasn’t sure. Riker remained silent beside me, ready to leap into action should the need arise.
The underling halted before a nondescript wall that pulsed with latent enchantment. With a casual wave of his hand, the stone shimmered and dissolved into a gateway, revealing the entrance to Zayn’s lair.
“Neat trick,” I commented, trying to keep my cool despite the fact that every fiber of my being screamed that walking into a djinn’s lair was about as smart as cuddling with a cactus.
Together, Riker and I stepped across the threshold, the air crackling with unseen energy, leaving the relative safety of the tunnels behind. Ahead, in the heart of the djinn king’s domain, waited a confrontation that would test the limits of our cunning, our resolve, and our ability to stay out of the fire. Literally.
The temporary throne room of the djinn king was, unsurprisingly, the stuff of fever dreams—a cavernous space that had once been an underground parking garage was now a place where shadows danced with light, casting eerie patterns on walls that defied geometry. Zayn, the inferno incarnate, lounged upon an ornate throne at the far end, all casual malevolence and smoldering eyes. He looked like he’d been waiting for centuries—which, to be fair, he probably had, though not here.
To the left, my gaze snagged on Cairo, suspended in what could only be described as a wizard’s snow globe from hell. Whorls of magic swirled around him, ethereal chains binding him within the confines of a crystal ball so massive it could have been a circus act. Poor guy looked like he was auditioning for the role of ‘Distressed Damsel,’ though the British-accented curses he was snarling suggested he wouldn’t take kindly to the casting.
Swiveling on the heel of my boot, I took in the rest of Zayn’s... what should I call it? Evil lair? Djinni den? Whatever it was, it screamed ‘I have issues with subtlety.’ On the other side of the room, another globe held captive a beautiful blonde woman. She was motionless, her face serene yet somber, as if she’d resigned herself to being part of Zayn’s twisted collection.
“Poppy,” I muttered under my breath, though no one had confirmed it. But who else could be important enough for this grand display of power? The poor girl was trapped like a fairy in a snow globe you’d find in a twisted Christmas market—only instead of snowflakes, streaks of magic swirled around her, coiling and uncoiling with the lazy grace of a cobra.
“Nice balls,” I said, trying to inject some humor into the situation. “Though I’m more of a crystal cube gal myself.”
Cairo rolled his eyes, clearly not in the mood for interior decorating tips. Can’t blame a girl for trying to lighten the mood.
“Ah, Tessa Fury,” Zayn’s voice cut through my thoughts, dripping with a condescension so thick it could be sliced and served on toast. “The hunter who so boldly aids a renegade djinni and his human whore.” His words struck like flint, intended to spark fury within me.
“Human whore is a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Cairo spat out.
Zayn merely raised an eyebrow, his fingers twitching. With a gesture as dismissive as flicking dust from his robe, he cast a silencing charm on Cairo. The growl cut off abruptly, the djinni’s lips still moving but without sound—a pantomime of rage trapped behind an invisible barrier. I watched, my gut clenching, as Cairo’s face contorted with impotent fury.
“Magic muzzle. Neat trick,” I said. “Do you do kids’ parties too, or just evil overlord shindigs?”
“Silence is a virtue you have yet to master,” Zayn said, his voice smooth as silk and twice as smothering.
Before I could retort, an invisible force yanked me forward. My feet shuffled across the floor, my body no longer mine to command. Despite the fear clawing at my insides, I kept my expression defiant, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter.
I glanced back at Riker, whose face showed strain, and guessed that he was as frozen in place as I was compelled to move.
As if I were a ragdoll, I was pulled right up to the throne, close enough to feel the heat radiating off Zayn. He reached out, his finger tracing the line of my jaw, and it felt as if he’d pressed a branding iron to my skin. I gritted my teeth against the searing pain, refusing to give him the scream he probably expected. He moved his hand to my forearm, and it was all I could do to stay silent.
“What? No ‘hello,’ no ‘how do you do’? Straight to third-degree burns?” I snapped as he finally pulled his hand away.
