Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2 (23 page)

No.

Time had started again right before they came inside and Aziza had instantly focused on stopping it once more, weaving on her bare feet as her palm burned and a sharp pain pierced her temples. Maybe her batteries needed to be recharged—she’d never done two back-to-back time-outs before.

Let those Niyr albinos track
that
time loss. As if they weren’t paranoid enough already.

“You could.” West’s voice was muffled through the door. “But you’d hate it if one of these poor salesgirls gets blamed for starting a fire at work when time starts up again.”

“You’re right, damn it.” She took the pins from her hair and shook it out. “Are all keeper’s children as nice as you are? Collecting stray Jinn and pickpockets and protecting innocent shopgirls from unwarranted arson charges?”

“No.” He laughed at that. “Most of us are empathic shut-ins or psychic hotline workers in it for the money. I am unique in all the land.”

She tugged on the snug red cardigan she needed for the cooler weather, leaving it unbuttoned. It wasn’t exactly her, but it beat the hell out of the dress.

Leaving that particular bad memory in a crumpled heap under the bench, she opened the narrow door and grinned up at West. “So you’re all psychic? Did
you
ever work at a psychic hotline? Read a palm? Play the lottery? You can tell me.”

“Only my cousin Kenna works the hotlines.” His eyes twinkled. “That I know of. At Christmas we give her grief, but console ourselves with the knowledge that at least one phone line is giving accurate information about the future. And no one in my family has
ever
played the lottery. My mother frowns on gambling, though when they first got married my father did make a few investments that made sure we would never have to worry about a roof over our heads.”

“Money.” She looked around the shop at all the statue-like customers and frowned. “Where did I put my purse?”

He held it out to her. “It’s a good thing you didn’t leave it with your shoes.”

“They weren’t really my shoes,” she admitted. “And if you mention them again I’ll deny their existence. I should have burned them too.”

When she walked up to the cash register and left a pile of banknotes on the counter, West smirked at her. “Do you have any idea how much money you just paid for that outfit?”

“No, and don’t tell me,” she muttered, stuffing her wallet back into her purse. “If it’s not enough I’ll feel guilty, if it’s too much it was worth it.”

“You said you were meeting with the Alpha?”

“More emphasis on the
the
,
please,
or you’ll be beheaded.”

West followed her back outside and onto the sidewalk. “I’m guessing it didn’t go very well. Is it because you’re dating his son? Because you’re too close to an exiled Jinn? Or because your being the Vessel undermines his authority?”

She gave him a sharp look. “I think I’m handling this pretty well, considering you misrepresented yourself when we first met. But you know way too much and it is freaking me out. Do you think I could be the one that gets to ask questions?”

His smile was confident and serene…and so not unattractive it wasn’t fair. “Ask me anything, Fireborne.”

“Don’t start. Aziza Jane will do. You haven’t been up-front with Ram, have you?”

“No.” West shook his head. “He knows Chiye thinks I’m clairvoyant, and he indulges her like a younger sister, but he doesn’t believe. He’s been too wrapped up in his own worries to notice, and if I told him, he’d have one more. His people would use him to try to discover the Zhaman’s whereabouts. I can’t do that to him.”

Aziza thought about all the times she’d used Mayet’s Witness to pull pranks or to be with Brandon and felt a blush crawl up her neck and heat her cheeks. West had been watching her today. Had he before? “I still can’t believe you can move freely when no one else can.”

He sent her a sidelong look. “Dern can.”

“Lovely. So you and this Dern aren’t affected by my abilities. Should I be expecting more company, more people who could appear unexpectedly?” Like while she was having sex on a stranger’s car? “Or are you the only ones who can do it?”

“Not to make you anxious, but we are not the only ones.” West spoke carefully. “There are only a small number of keeper’s children like me who decided to honor the old ways and be guides and helpers. We alone were given special permission by the Zhaman to be marked with more sand than necessary—”

“What do you mean, ‘ more than necessary’?”

“
Necessary
means that shortly after birth nearly every descendant of the original Zhaman has their own special brand of baptism. One that involves blood and sand. It is a type of scarification that inserts a portion of the sand beneath our skin. Our blood will reject it, because we aren’t of the Ammu line, but it remains beneath our skin to keep the promise. After our rebirth to the hidden world, most lead relatively normal lives—other than experiencing a heightened insight or the occasional vivid dream, particularly following the required rebaptism every seven years.”

“
Every
descendant?
Every
seven years? But wasn’t the first Zhaman alive around a few thousand years ago or something? How many of you are there now? There isn’t enough sand in the world.”

“There’s always enough for what is needed. It’s part of the magic. My parents took me to the Zhaman’s home when I was a boy and I saw the original jar with my own eyes. In our people’s memory it has never needed to be refilled.”

“So you’ve voluntarily done this more than you needed to? And the Zhaman gave you permission? Why?”

He took her elbow to turn her down a small side street before dropping his hand and slipping it into his jeans pocket. “Because I knew I would need it. That I would have to be strong enough to do what had to be done. After my seventh birthday I had a vision, Aziza Jane. Among other things, I saw you. Us. I saw my destiny. That’s why I was presented to the Zhaman to begin with. My parents wanted her to tell me my vision was just a dream. That it didn’t mean anything and I wouldn’t have to be among the chosen. But she’d known I was coming long before I was born.” He shrugged. “So here I am.”

Aziza was speechless. He’d had a vision of her? She’d had one of him too, but she wasn’t planning on sharing it with him.

“They don’t see me, Aziza Jane. Not the way you do. I had a vision too, you know. You and I, like this. I’ve been looking for you. Wanted you for longer than you could possibly know. And I knew I’d find you.”

Had part of her known what he was? Had the shower fantasy she’d had only hours after they met been the sand’s way of letting her know?

Trust the keeper’s child.

She did. It was insane, but she did. She trusted him as much as she trusted Penn and Greg.

“If you saw me—
this
—then you must have seen how dangerous it is. The murders. The Jiniyr.”

“Yes. Some of it. Flashes mostly. I’m only shown what I need to know to play my part.”

She thought about her worries about Chiye’s safety. The feeling that she needed to be protected. “Does that include bringing innocent people into the equation? Like Chiye? I’m no better—I have my aunt and Greg—but if you could see what was coming, why would you keep her with you?”

West sighed and reached down to take her hand. Their fingers crackled with static and sparks again. Because he was a keeper? “Everyone has a part in this, Aziza Jane. Some larger than others, some unknowingly, but there is no one around you now who isn’t meant to be…though not all will remain. I’m not a Zhaman and I can’t see every potential, but I know that much is true. Chiye Wyn is exactly where she needs to be. Gregory Prophet is necessary.”

Gregory is necessary.
Did he have any idea that Te had said that to her before? Had he seen it in one of his visions?

Had he seen her brother? “West, I wanted to ask you about Jos—”

“We’re here.”

Aziza blinked. “We are? Already?”

She eyed the ancient wooden door that was barely tall enough for her to walk through without ducking, her eyebrows raised in surprise. This was where the wizard hid his library from the Jinn and Niyr? She’d expected an actual library or a secret passage that led to a castle, not a bar.

She glanced at him and bit her lips. “I’m not done with you yet. Maybe we should meet him later.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk. Don’t look so nervous, Aziza Jane,” he added with a grin. “After strong-arming
the
Alpha of the Enforcers, this meeting will be a breeze. My second cousins in Israel have been friends with Dern for years, and I’ve known him for months. Trust me, he’s one of the good guys.”

“And we’re meeting him in a
pub
?”

“It’s closed for renovations so we won’t have to worry about whether or not time starts up again. Even if it weren’t, our man always has a few tricks up his sleeve. He’s got a talent for hiding not even I can match.”

When he opened the door, it gave out a heartfelt groan as it scraped across the rough wood floor. “Dern loves renovation and construction sites. Says he likes the feeling of places in flux. That, like life, nothing should be set in stone. He and I have had long, drawn-out disagreements about destiny. He’s not a fan of the word.”

“He sounds deep.”

A booming male laugh followed her words. “Deep.
Well
, I am. Deeper than you can
fathom
. Get it? Well? Fathom? It’s a measurement…
Bah
, never mind. Bring her in, boy, bring her in. I thought you were going to change your mind about revealing yourself again and getting her over here. Glad I was wrong.”

Aziza looked around as she went a few steps deeper into the pub, but she didn’t see him anywhere. The place appeared to be empty. There were no tables or chairs. No glasses behind the bar. No people. Was he hidden from the Niyr and Jinn because he was actually invisible?

“Come in, girl,” the voice behind her said.

She whirled to see a tall, heavyset male form in the shadows. Not invisible then.

He shook his head. “Thought you’d be taller, Fireborne. And older too—what are you,
fifteen
?”

West snorted. “She’s old enough, old man. Be nice to her while I get her some coffee from the kitchen.”

Aziza moved closer, her eyes adjusting enough to the dimmer light of the pub to catalogue the stranger’s features. He looked more like a lumberjack or an outdoorsy version of Santa Claus than a bookworm, with a full, bright-red beard and mussed hair that was a shade darker. His flannel shirt, which was partially tucked into one side of his pants, strained across his barrel chest and rounded stomach. He also had on eyeglasses that looked too small for him and were held together with white tape. His accent was harder to place. Perhaps Canada or somewhere along the Northeastern Seaboard.

“Dern, I presume?” Aziza inquired. “West said you wanted to see me. I have to ask—how did you know who I was?”

Where I was. And what—or who—are you?

He motioned for her to follow him and walked into a smaller room off the main bar without waiting to see if she’d follow.

This room was brightly lit and looked as though it might be a game room. The big table in the center was covered in old, worn books of all sizes, as well as notebooks and journals and rolls of parchment. It was an impressive collection. Along the wall, a row of brand-new dartboards were hung like modern art, some of them currently covered with threadbare and ancient-looking maps. Seriously, how had he gotten all this in here without being noticed?

“I know who you are and I know why you’re here, Aziza.” He turned to face her, the table between them, and chuckled. “Why your little Niyr Whisperer was poking around every nook and cranny for any information she was allowed to give you. That is one interesting Qarin, by the way. Spends more time walking the line than any
Jinn
I’ve ever heard of. I have a feeling that’s your influence.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about my Niyr?” He made Te sound like a rebel.

“You do have a lot to learn, don’t you?” He clapped his hands together. “You’ve come to the right place then, because I know things. Things are what I know. For example, what you are. The Fireborne, Vessel of Fire, embodiment of the Mayet, et cetera, et cetera. The glue that binds the treaty that stopped the horrible war that almost obliterated this world and two others. Unfortunately, you are also the
only
generation of your line not raised on the lore, so you’ve had to figure this all out as you went along. Luckily, you have spunk and you’re a quick study. Are you impressed? Am I warm?”

Aziza stared at him. He
did
know who she was. And he knew Te was a Whisper. How? “Yes. You’re on fire. My actual name is just Aziza, by the way. I know that much about myself.”

He chuckled again. “On fire. Funny. I get it. The Zhaman said you’d be a woman but didn’t mention you’d be funny. As you’ve already been informed, they call me Dern.”

Aziza was too curious to bother being wary. Since Te had mentioned him she’d been thinking about all the things she still wanted to know. Needed to know. She had so many questions that required answers rather than enigmatic riddles or half truths, and here was a man who obviously had answers to spare—a human who wasn’t bound to any consensus, Jinn rule or Alpha’s whim.