A zing of magic rippled through the air, its distinctive signature announcing a visitor. Kieran turned from his contemplation of Qaf's endless dunes.
Making his way downstairs, his footsteps echoed softly against the marble as he descended the winding staircase. The ethereal light filtering through the crystal windows cast ever-shifting patterns across the walls.
At the foot of the stairs, he found Jacinth standing in themajlis, the Arabian equivalent of the reception rooms of old. Her petite form seemed almost lost among the room's grandeur - theancient Persian carpets whose patterns held centuries of magical symbolism, the carved teak furniture inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and the silk cushions whose colors shifted like captured rainbows in the magical light.
Her arrival was unannounced, but he wasn't entirely surprised. Jacinth had never been one to stand on ceremony, despite his position. Her casual disregard for protocol had been both refreshing and aggravating since the day he'd met her, a precocious child, centuries ago.
With only a sigh, he moved to one of the ornate settees. The ancient teak creaked softly as he settled onto its silk cushions, gesturing for Jacinth to take a seat.
"You," he said with careful precision, "are a pain in my ass."
Jacinth's delighted laughter echoed off the marble walls. She dropped onto a pile of cushions across from him, her eyes dancing with amusement.
"I never thought to hear you using Modern lingo." She grinned. "I'm impressed. Has spending time with Mandy been rubbing off on you already?"
Kieran fixed her with a withering look, his silvery-blue eyes conveying centuries of accumulated exasperation, though a reluctant spark of amusement threatened to undermine his stern expression. He never could suppress the grudging affection that had grown over the centuries of dealing with her irreverent nature.
If he were being completely honest with himself, she was the closest thing to a daughter he'd ever had in his millennia of existence. Not that he'd ever tell her that. The very thought made him shudder internally. She was annoying enough already without adding that particular piece of information to her arsenal.
Still, he couldn't deny the pride he'd felt watching her grow from an impetuous young Djinn into the powerful Wish Bearershe'd become. Even her unconventional marriage to Douglas and her fierce protection of her shifter friends spoke to the depth of her character. She'd carved her own path, defying tradition while somehow managing to strengthen their people's connection to the modern world.
He'd stood beside her through centuries of growth and change, offering guidance when needed and stepping back when she needed to find her own way. He'd defended her choices to the Council more times than he cared to count, though he'd die before admitting how much satisfaction he'd taken in watching their stuffy expressions as he systematically dismantled their objections.
Jacinth's dark eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief that alternately warmed his heart and made him want to bang his head against the nearest wall. The dichotomy of his feelings toward her perfectly embodied what he imagined mortal fathers must feel - though naturally, he would never voice such thoughts aloud.
With a casual flick of his fingers, Kieran conjured a delicate tea service and a plate piled high with diamond-shaped pieces of basboussa. The sweet semolina cake glistened with honey syrup, its golden surface studded with blanched almonds. Jacinth's eyes lit up at the sight of her childhood favorite.
He watched, amused, as she immediately snatched up a piece and took an eager bite. Some things never changed - she'd had the same reaction to basboussa since she was a young girl. A touch of honey syrup glistened on her lip as she savored the treat.
"To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" He asked her.
The playful sparkle vanished from Jacinth's dark eyes, replaced by a gravity he rarely saw in her. She set down her half-eaten piece of basboussa, wiping the honey from her fingers with uncharacteristic precision.
"The Hudson Valley shifters are organizing," she said, her voice low and intense. "They've been meeting almost constantly since the news broke. Setting up contingency plans, and so forth."
"They're particularly concerned about the children," Jacinth continued. "And those whose businesses are known in the community. The veterinary clinic especially, and Kazakis Deli. They're all potential targets now."
He inclined his head, perfectly understanding the implications. The shifters had maintained their secrecy for generations, building lives and livelihoods within human communities. Now those carefully constructed existences balanced on a knife's edge.
"Their Councils are being proactive," Jacinth added. "It's not like they haven't been planning for this for ages. It was inevitable, as we all know. But the tension is high, Kieran. This isn't like anything they've faced before."
Despite the seriousness of the topic, mischief crept into Jacinth's expression, her dark eyes dancing with barely contained glee. Kieran braced himself - that look never boded well for his peace of mind.
"And..." she drew out the word with theatrical emphasis, "Lord Damien is sending some of his vampires down to provide security for the shifter businesses at night."
Kieran's eyebrows rose in considerable surprise. The Dark Lord was legendary for maintaining the strict separation between vampires and human affairs, his ancient authority setting the standard that all vampire clans followed. In all the centuries Kieran had known him, Damien had never voluntarily inserted himself into mortal matters unless his own interests were directly threatened.
"Damien?" Kieran couldn't quite keep the surprise from his voice. "The same Damien who once said he'd rather stake himself than get involved in 'mortal dramatics'?"
Jacinth nodded, clearly delighting in his reaction. "The very same. He's already arranged rotating patrols for the various businesses. His people will keep watch in the night, while the shifter patrols sleep."
This was... unexpected. Damien's vampires were formidable warriors, their presence alone would deter most trouble. But more significantly, this represented an unprecedented level of cooperation between supernatural races.
"I assume Alyssa had something to do with this decision?" Kieran asked, referring to Damien's Djinn wife.
Jacinth's grin widened. "Of course. Can you imagine otherwise?"
Kieran sat back, genuinely impressed. Perhaps the old vampire was finally emerging from his self-imposed isolation. The implications of this decision would ripple through supernatural communities across the globe. If Damien, one of the most powerful vampire leaders, and the most notorious isolationist among their kind, was choosing to protect shifters...
