Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2 (24 page)

Think, Aziza. Focus.
“So you’ve met the actual Zhaman? Are you related to the keepers, like West? Is that how you stay hidden?”

He shook his head as he shuffled through his papers and moved a few books around. “No, I wasn’t born to this like he was. I inherited my knowledge in journals and books. My great-grandfather was one of those wealthy wannabe archaeologists. You know the type—the ones who bought mummies to decorate their homes and were always on the lookout for ancient civilizations they could discover and pilfer through. He was documenting stories of the magical djinn and rumors of buried golden palaces in the Middle East when the Zhaman—I suppose it can’t still be the same one—invited him to stay in her home. She listened to his theories on ancient civilizations and his dreams of bringing enlightenment to his generation, cooked for him, and after they’d eaten, they sat beside the fire and she told him a story. A very detailed, very magical story.”

Aziza sat down in the chair closest to the table and leaned forward. “About what?”

He studied her over his glasses, his gray-blue eyes sparkling. “West is the writer of this operation. Maybe he should tell you.”

West walked up in time to hear her and pushed a few books carefully out of the way so he could set a cup of hot coffee on the table in front of her. “Sadly, there is no time for me to be appropriately teased about that. This is where I leave you.”

“What do you mean? You’re leaving me?” She didn’t like the sound of that.

West placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She felt that static electricity again. “You’ll be fine, Aziza. You’re safe here.”

Dern frowned. “Seen this in one of those visions of yours?”

“Yes.” West shrugged. “Well, I saw me bringing her in and then leaving without her. You know I never see you. But I think what I
did
see means whatever you need to talk about is between the two of you.”

Aziza bit her lip. She didn’t know this man like West did, but both of them knew about her. About the Whispers and their “sources”. .This whole situation felt strange. Sneaky.

Then again, when you were a human with knowledge you shouldn’t have and a keeper who was so determined to remain hidden that you covered your body with scars, sneaky probably came with the territory.

“I’ll see you later?” She wanted to ask West about Joseph. About what Shev had mentioned. Now that she knew other people could remain hidden, particularly the keepers, she was more and more sure that it was how Joseph was staying out of sight. Maybe a keeper’s child had saved his life, was even now watching over him.

“I’ll see you tonight at Underbridge. You’re going to want to be there.” With a somber smile he stood and disappeared the way they’d come.

When she heard the door creak shut behind West, Aziza shifted in her chair to face Dern again and self-consciously traced the mark on her forehead. There was no way for her to hide what she was from people who weren’t affected by her powers. Not a lot about her was subtle or sneaky.

“How did you two meet?” she asked.

“West?” Dern looked toward the door fondly. “I found him through one of his relatives. I was in Wales purchasing an old map from a collector friend and was told a keeper’s child was nearby. It’s good to have someone to talk to other than myself and my books, and that always means making nice with the keepers. Shame Gramps couldn’t have figured that golden nugget out. Anyway, though he’s young and far more interested in his visions of the future than my books on the past, when West told me that he was going to help the Fireborne I decided to keep him close so I wouldn’t miss the excitement. I’ve been waiting to meet you all my life, Aziza Jane Stewart.”

She shifted uncomfortably on the hard chair. “I hope you aren’t disappointed.”

Leaning over his books, he squinted at her mark. “The drawings don’t do them justice, you know. The Mayet’s powers are actually branded into your skin. Your DNA. All that chaotic, unimaginable energy living inside a little bit like you.” He shook his head and smiled. “Heady stuff. But we shouldn’t get distracted. I was going to tell you the story the Zhaman told my great-grandfather.”

“Please.”

“All right. She knew how to spin a yarn, the Zhaman did—hooked him right away when she said there were other worlds full of life. Not in outer space, but right beside us. Secret worlds that ran parallel to ours, one on either side.”

Dern leaned his hip against the table, took off his glasses and stared somewhere over her head as though remembering. “She said humans couldn’t see into either one, but both sides could observe us. Visit us. And they did, more frequently than anyone would want to know about. Angels, faeries, devils, aliens? Most, if not every story about otherworldly things, come back to one of them. The real problems arose when they realized they couldn’t see
each other
unless one or both of them were here.”

“They couldn’t?”

“Apparently not. Our world is the brick wall between theirs. Now the Jinn—you know them—they didn’t care. For a long time they only knew about our world and were happy enough to hop back and forth, experiencing the delights we had to offer. When they found out about the others? Let’s just say they didn’t think they were missing anything entertaining. But the ones we call the Niyr? They saw as many worlds as we see stars. Always had, for as far back as any of them remembered. Rarely visiting, only watching. If they have a religion, it is observation. Because to them, if it isn’t seen, then it isn’t real.”

Aziza remembered what Te said. They didn’t experience things. They only watched. It seemed cold…and in Te’s case, sad, because it was obvious that some part of her wanted experience, was drawn to it. To Aziza and Greg. “I wonder why.”

Dern snorted derisively. “I don’t. Bunch of black-eyed voyeurs, those Niyr. What is it they say—those who can’t do, watch and judge you from afar?” He looked pleased with himself for a moment. “That sums them up too. Maybe if they did something other than observe, they’d learn a thing or two. Anyway, when the Niyr saw the Jinn interacting with our world and realized they couldn’t see into the Jinn’s, it made them paranoid. Aggressive. The Zhaman went on for a while about that, and how badly the Jinn responded to all early attempts at Niyr-like diplomacy. Then she talked about the wars—how they used our world over and over again like a chessboard, with humans as pawns and cannon fodder because they couldn’t invade each other. And when that wasn’t satisfying enough, they came together here in a clash so profound that something more powerful was born to restore the balance.”

He focused on Aziza again and she was riveted. Mesmerized. “Here’s the part of the story that’s about you. She told my great-grandfather that a line was created when the treaty was forged. A lineage that would contain the essence of human, Jinn and Niyr, and would be awoken in a time of need—when the forced peace was threatened and the unfinished battle would seek its end. She said they were the only ones capable of harnessing a power that could be used for salvation or total annihilation. She talked about the eventual rise of the Fireborne—you—in great detail. She said she could see your arrival as if it were happening in the present. The one smart thing my fancy-pants relative ever did was write it all down.”

There they were again. Words that made her feel like a Horseman of the Apocalypse. Salvation or total annihilation? Couldn’t she just keep the uneasy peace? What if she made the wrong choice? Was she supposed to destroy the Jiniyr, or was there more to it than that? Dern said the Zhaman knew about Aziza and it was all written down by his relative. Wasn’t this something she should know? Why tell a human stranger and not leave so much as a Post-it behind for the actual Fireborne?

“Why would a Zhaman tell
him
? They’re supposed to be hidden, aren’t they? Why would she risk the information getting out?”

Dern tugged his beard and sent her a sly grin. “Because she’s clever. There was no true risk. She gave him a very special ring engraved with a possible variation of what he believed was the Seal of Solomon. Beneath the engraving, inside the ring itself, was a pinch of glittering black sand. You know what I’m talking about. The good stuff, she’d sworn. Not from her family’s jug but straight from the source. Whoever wore it, she said, could walk through the world unnoticed by the others.” He lifted his long, thick fingers and wiggled them, showing her a large ring of brass, gold and iron snugly stuck on his pinky. “Guess who inherited that trinket?”

“I read about that,” Aziza whispered. The books Greg had given her on Jinn lore said that Solomon could control the Jinn with a magic ring. Command, not hide from. Maybe the truth in the myth was lost to time. “So is that the actual…?”

Dern shrugged. “Beats me, but it does make for a great story. Course, none of us could ever bring it in to be authenticated. That would require taking it off.” He lifted a chain around his neck and she caught a glimpse of an amulet. “That, along with a few more pieces of jewelry no real man would admit to wearing out loud, has kept me completely hidden. Free to work in peace.”

“Your great-grandfather could still tell people,” she mused. “The ring wouldn’t keep him from doing that.” Aziza’s eyes wandered over the tempting table of old books. How did she ask for the Fireborne journal without sounding desperate?

She wanted to dive in and not leave until he dragged her out. She had a feeling this table held all of her answers. About who she was, at least—she was pretty sure the answers to her questions about Ram and Brandon couldn’t be found in a book.

Unless the Zhaman had seen that too.

“He did tell his story.” Dern sighed regretfully. “To anyone who would listen, the dumb bastard. That got him a ticket to the nuthouse and made him the laughingstock of all his peers. But when he died he left the ring and his journals to my father and then me. We kept the legacy alive, waiting for the Fireborne and what the Zhaman said would arise with her.”

“What would arise?” The way he said it made it sound ominous.

“Treasures without price and knowledge of great powers that were hidden here after the treaty to ensure its continuation. My father went to his grave still thinking it was about mountains of gold. But I discovered the truth.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

Sucking in his lower lip, Dern studied her. “The threat of the Fireborne wasn’t the only thing holding the treaty together. If your Ammu line and one family with a bucket of never-ending sand were all that stood in the way of two powerful enemies wiping each other out, how much energy do you think they’d put into protecting you? The Jinn and Niyr each had to add something to the mix that would hold them in check. Something to guarantee that the treaty would last for all time and neither side would make a move that went against it. No alliances and no wars. Just the treaty. It would have to be something big.”

“Skin in the game.” She’d said it to Ram that night on the roof when she was asking him about the treaty. “Do you know what it is?”

“No, no, Fireborne.” Dern shook his finger at her. “Not what. I think it’s who. That it was always about
who
. You, for example, want to know who you are,
what
you really are. The only way you can truly understand that is to go back to the beginning. To know what truly transpired to initiate the treaty that created your line, and the signing itself.”

Aziza leaned back in her chair.
It was about who?
As in a person other than her? “That sounds great, but time travel doesn’t seem to be one of my abilities.”

Dern lifted one scraggly eyebrow. “You’ve broken more than one vial, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then by now you must have heard her. Had her show you things in dreams.”

She leaned forward again. “Who?”

“The Mayet.”

The dreams had come right away. And she had heard things even when she hadn’t called on her powers. Felt things. She knew she was changing. Especially since seeing into the Niyr and Jinn worlds…and her experience with Ram onstage.

“
What
is the Mayet?” she asked. “Seriously, it’s been driving me crazy. What does that word mean? Is it another term for Fireborne? Is it a person? Is that the ‘who’? Be warned that if you tell me ‘what the sand conceals it will reveal’ I’m going to be…” Angry didn’t begin to cover it. Flaming banshee, maybe. “…disappointed.”

He snorted. “I’ll try not to disappoint you. The journals say the Mayet was born soaked in fire and blood, born out of true injustice and unspeakable abuses of power. She was the result of the war—her existence ensured the treaty, and when it was actualized she returned to her previous form and hid herself away. Watching.”

“She. So the Mayet was a woman?”

“At one point, yes, in a way. She took on female form for a time, after she became aware, in order to communicate. But the Mayet
is
the sand, and she can reveal things to you, which is my point.”

Aware. Since the moment she’d cut her hand on the vial and the sand had moved toward the wound, Aziza had sensed it was aware. Alive inside her. Shev had tried to tell her as much, and Aziza had felt it herself when she was with Ram, but she got the feeling that she’d had no idea how alive until this moment. The Mayet was the sand, which meant she had the Mayet inside her. Her powers weren’t really her own. She was only…a vessel.

The
Vessel.

Aziza shook her head, rattled by the direction her thoughts were taking. “What do you mean by your ‘point’?”