Into Evernight: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Fearless Destiny Book 2) Page 2

  “Or you could just create a cool breeze for me like you did last time.”

  “Now, were would the fun be in that?”

  I stopped and glared at him, hands on hips.

  He paused at the mouth of the alley. “Fine, breeze it is. Spoilsport.” Gently gripping my shoulders, he blew into my face.

  His scent was on his breath, in my hair, up my nose, and totally intense. When I opened my eyes I was surrounded by a gentle breeze. My body was cool, as if I was out on a spring day in Lindrealm.

  “Better?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Come on, you’ll like it here.”

  He reached for my hand, and I allowed him to take it.

  We’d done this so many times now—visited different parts of the world I would soon call my own. There was no winter in the fifth dimension—just varying degrees of heat, dust, and sand—and yet it held a beauty all its own. I’d seen towering palaces and blooming gardens. I’d seen the red ocean, glittering under a forever setting sun, and I’d walked among my people—peasant djinn and nobles of all colours.

  Those first few weeks had been wondrous, but then Baal had taken me further out into the borderlands, where poverty and hunger fed on the djinn. Starved, angry, and lost, they huddled in run-down shacks, slept on the dusty ground, and sold their offspring into labour for coin.

  “This is what Kai’s rule has done,” Baal had said. “The rich get richer and the poor are left to rot. What Kai fails to appreciate is that every djinn has his place in the circle of life. By neglecting the trader, the farmer, and the labourer, he is slowly chipping away at the foundation of our society.”

  Kai … the false king—the djinn who held my kingdom captive with his formidable army. If I was going to overthrow him, I needed to be prepared. I needed to know my world and my people.

  I’d been distracted by a small djinn child attempting to light her makeshift stove. In that moment, I’d wanted nothing more than to step in and help. But we’d been ghosts, walking under a glamour that kept us invisible to those around us.

  “Your father knew this, Kenna. He took care of them all,” Baal had said.

  The Cinder Market was also a borderland place, but unlike the others, it was filled with colour and life. We walked between vibrant stalls, hung with beads and silken fabrics, busy with trade as djinn bartered for goods and services.

  “How come this place isn’t affected by Kai’s rule?”

  “The Cinder Market is run by the regency. It was set up by Ibris himself. A place for djinn to find treasures, to hide their treasures, and to share them if they so wished. It is in our nature to covet beautiful astonishing things: trinkets, spells, and vows. They can all be obtained here.”

  “Did Ibris … Did my father come here?”

  Baal squeezed my hand gently. “All the time,” he leaned in slightly. “But we always came in disguise.”

  I glanced sharply at him. “You came with him?”

  Baal chuckled. “Every time.”

  So, they’d been closer than I’d thought. I wanted to ask him more about the kind of djinn my father had been. He’d been the first of his kind—forged in flame, the template from which all djinn had been cut. He’d never been a child. He hadn’t had a mother. What had that felt like?

  The breeze Baal had created just for me stirred the hair at the nape of my neck. I caught him staring speculatively at a stall flying a purple flag.

  “Baal?”

  “I have some business to attend to. Stay here. I won’t be long.”

  His tone was all business, and when he released my hand, I curled my fingers into a fist to prevent myself reaching for him again.

  It was the first time he’d left my side in this dimension, but he wouldn’t have done it if he felt I’d be in any danger. He strode toward the purple flag stall and struck up a conversation with the owner—a short portly fellow with skin the colour of a summer sky. The man beckoned Baal through a curtain of beads and out of view.

  Long minutes ticked by, and watching the beaded curtain for movement soon got old. I wandered over to the stall to my left. It was a tiny hut with counters laden with gems and stones, imprinted with strange symbols.

  A woman draped in multi-coloured fabric, with a cluster of interesting broaches pinned to her shoulder, sat on a seat sipping a cool drink. I raised a hand in greeting, and her eyes flashed, lingering at my wrist, at the bangle that dangled there.

  She placed her drink on an empty portion of the counter and walked over to me. “You are a stranger to our lands.”

  Her probing gaze was disconcerting. Was it possible she could see through my glamour?

  She chuckled. “If you intend to live among us, you must learn to mask your thoughts a little better.”

  Panic squeezed my chest. She knew what I was … who I was. I needed to get out of here. I took a step back, but her hand whipped out and grabbed my wrist—the one sporting Baal’s silver bangle.

  Her probing gaze intensified and then her eyes widened a fraction. “Not a stranger after all.”

  The alters surged to life, and my anxiety was replaced by the hot flare of indignation. How dare she touch me!

  “Let go.” My tone was even and calm, echoing in my ears.

  Something indecipherable flashed in the depths of her eyes before she lowered her lids, hiding them from me. Her fingers slipped from my wrist and she reached for one of the broaches at her shoulder, unclasped it with trembling hands, and held it out to me.

  “Please accept this small token as an apology,” she said.

  It was a pretty little thing set with ruby red gems and a strange symbol, similar to the ones etched into the stones lying on the counter.

  “Please, it will bring you luck.” She pushed it toward me.

  Was this some kind of trick?

  “It will do you no harm. I give you my word.”

  Her word was her bond. I plucked it from her fingers and inclined my head in acceptance.

  She met my eyes with hooded ones of her own. “I hope it serves you well.”

  Raised voices behind me had me glancing over my shoulder. I turned back to the stall to find a brick wall in its place.

  What the heck had just happened?

  Baal’s scent alerted me to his presence. “I know I said to stay put, but you could have found something more stimulating to look at than a wall.”

  I blinked slowly at the deep red brick. “There was a stall here. A woman with amber eyes … She gave me this.” I held up my hand and unfurled it to show him the broach.

  Baal froze. “Where did you get that?”

  “I just told you. From the woman who was running the stall that just vanished.”

  Baal swallowed and reached for the broach, carefully lifting it from my palm and holding it up to the light.

  “What? Is it dangerous?”

  His lips curved in a half smile. “No, Kenna, it’s not dangerous. It will serve you well.”

  “Yeah, that’s what the woman said.”

  He pinned the broach to my polo shirt, just above my breast, sending a bolt of awareness through me.

  I cleared my throat. “What does it do?”

  “It shields your thoughts from those that may try to read you.”

  I reached up to caress the broach. “In that case I’ll make sure I keep it on me.”

  He stared into my eyes, probing, searching. My lips parted as I breathed him in, trying desperately not to taste the liquorice on the air.

  “What are you doing?”

  He blinked and stepped back. “Seeing if it works.”

  “And does it?”

  “Beautifully.”

  “Hang on … Have you been reading my thoughts all this time?”

  “Not intentionally. You have a tendency to think quite loud when your emotions are heightened.”

  “When my emotions are …” I blew out a breath. I wasn’t going to go there. What was done was done. “Why would she give this to me?”

  “I don’t know, Kenna. But I have a feeling we’ll find out soon enough.”

  4

  “We need to entertain the possibility that Lauren and his crew have been compromised,” Brett said.

  Baal tapped his fingers against the dining table. “I may have disagreed with you a few hours ago, but before leaving to come here I received a phone call. It seems that the Twilight monarch has requested a meeting to renegotiate the terms of the treaty between Twilight and Lindrealm.”

  I leaned forward in my seat. “What kind of renegotiation?”

  We were seated in my kitchen, a pot of freshly brewed tea and plate of biscuits at the ready. Yeah, I was getting good at prepping for our weekly meetings.

  Baal stirred his beverage. “It seems that it’s come to their attention that the luma shortage is having a detrimental effect on Lindrealm’s battle against the denizens, and that our dwindling Fearless numbers may be insufficient to hold the darkness at bay.”

  My pulse skipped. “Lauren mentioned the possibility that the luma shortage may be a subtle attack on Lindrealm. We suspected that the luma farm owner’s son had been kidnapped and held to ransom, the ransom being having the farmer cut off our luma supply. It has to be someone in a position of power. Do you think that the monarch could be involved? Think about it. He takes out our luma supply then attacks our Fearless reserves, putting us in a position where we’d jump at his offer of aid.”

  Baal pressed his lips together “This offer of aid is too coincidental for us to disregard your theory. I’m interested to know what he’ll ask for during the renegotiation. Maybe that will give us a true insight into whether his motives are noble or merely selfish.”

  Brett picked up his cup and slurped. “If this is a royal plot, then Lauren and his mates could be in deep shit.”

  I had to do something. “We need to go find them.”

  Baal speared me with a look. “You need to focus on preparing for the Black Moon.”

  The Black Moon—a night that only came once every thirty-two years. A night when all the most important djinn in the fifth dimension would be gathered in one room—the night I would make my play for the throne.

  “I have time.”

  “A week is hardly enough time to prepare.”

  I wanted to argue with him but he was right, and so I pressed my lips together and exhaled through my nostrils.

  Baal’s gaze softened and he leaned back in his seat. A lock of his hair slipped across his forehead and my hand itched to push it back.

  I reached for my cup instead. “So will they be sending someone here to renegotiate?”

  Baal poured more tea into his cup. “No, the monarch and his royal advisers won’t leave the palace. We’ll be sending an emissary like we did the first time.”

  “Send me,” Brett blurted.

  Baal paused, his cup an inch from his mouth, and turned to look at Brett.

  Brett met his gaze steadily. “Look, if I go maybe I’ll be able to find out what happened to Lauren. I can do some digging and find out what the hell is going on.”

  “If they find out you’re a spy they’ll kill you,” Baal warned.

  Brett’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  But I wasn’t. “Brett, it’s too dangerous.”

  Brett snorted. “Yeah, and diving into the eye of the hoard was a piece of cake.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s different, I have—”

  “Powers? Abilities? What? You think a human can’t get things done?” His eyes flashed dangerously.

  I held up my hands. “Hey, I didn’t mean it that way. I just … I can’t lose you too.”

  “She’s right to be concerned. The Twilight court is the most powerful of them all, the high monarch the most cunning. Twilight is a beautiful place, but over the centuries its heart has slowly rotted, beating sluggishly beneath a saccharine veneer of opulence. If it were Dawn or Dusk you were headed to then I’d be less concerned. But Twilight is the court of deception. In Twilight there are fates worse than death.”

  I stared at him. “Wow. That was pretty chilling.”

  He shrugged and bit into a biscuit.

  “I want to do this,” Brett said.

  If that speech hadn’t fazed him then nothing I said would. As much as I hated the idea of Brett walking into danger, we did it every day when facing the denizens. We’d sworn to protect humanity, and after everything I’d done and was willing to do, it would be hypocritical to try and stop him, and arrogant to think he could do less of a job.

  “I don’t like it, but I know he can do this.”

  Brett blinked across at me in surprise.

  “What? You know I’ve got your back. But I swear if you get yourself killed I’ll find you, resurrect you, and kill you all over again.”

  He grinned.

  “Baal, you think you can swing it so he’s appointed?”

  Brett reached over and took my hand.

  I squeezed his fingers.

  Baal’s emerald eyes narrowed a fraction. “Yes, I can do it. But answer me this—will you be able to focus with your friend walking into the mouth of danger?”

  I cocked my head and offered him a grin. “I have you to keep me grounded.”

  “Very well. I’ll set the wheels in motion.” He focused on Brett. “I’ll send a car for you tomorrow so we can finalise the arrangements and communication plans.”

  Brett drained his cup and pushed back his chair. “Great. I best get going. I have … stuff to do. Say hi to your mum for me, Kenna.”

  He headed for the door.

  “Say hi to Karl for me!”

  He didn’t look back, but raised a hand and flipped me the bird.

  The door closed with a soft click, and I was alone with Baal.

  “So where is your mother?” Baal asked.

  “Asleep.”

  “She sleeps a lot.”

  “I think she finds more comfort in her dreams than in reality. At least there she gets to see Bella.”

  “It must have been difficult raising a child, knowing that she was merely a sacrifice.”

  “Bella was much more than that.”

  His expression softened. “Of course. Which is why it must have been hard. For both of you.”

  I swallowed and looked away. I hated talking about her … remembering what I’d done to her.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Baal said softly.

  “Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel any better. I just wish … I wish I could see her one last time. I never got to say goodbye.” Even as the words left my mouth I felt a disconnection with them—there was no real yearning behind them. Almost as if the words were rehearsed.

  “Any news from Sabriel?”

  “No. I’m getting really worried. I know you told me to relax and give it a little more time, but I think it’s been long enough. There has to be a way of communicating with him.”

  His eyes bored into me, greener than psychedelic grass. “No, Kenna, there isn’t. If he isn’t making contact then he either doesn’t want to or is being prevented from doing so.”

  “There is no way Sabriel would abandon me, which means …”

  “God has forbidden him contact.”

  “But why?”

  Baal shrugged. “I couldn’t say for sure. But from what I know of guardian angels, they usually only work with human souls. Maybe now that you know what you are, you’re no longer entitled to one.”

  “That makes no sense. Surely the powers-that-be knew what I was before assigning Sabriel to me.”

  He frowned. “You have a point. It seems you’re more important to the powers-that-be than I first anticipated. A hybrid soul with a guardian angel.”

  “Yeah, lucky me. So why take him away?”

  “Maybe he did something wrong, some kind of infraction that he is being punished for.”

  “Punished? He’s done nothing wrong.”

  Baal quirked a brow. “Not that you know of. Look, Kenna, if he is being forced to stay away then it’s beyond our control. We can’t argue with divine intervention.”

  Couldn’t we? “I think I’ve lost enough, don’t you? And I’m not losing anyone else, especially not for what’s probably a silly mistake of some kind.”

  The alters whispered, some in agreement with Baal, some with me. I didn’t care, I’d made up my mind.

  “I need to get him back. I need to have a word with god.”

  5

  BRETT

  Damn the tight collar and scratchy cuffs. The only pleasant thing about the outfit Baal had forced him into were the yoga pant-style trousers.

  “It’s a sign of respect to wear the Twilight colours,” Baal had explained.

  At least the colours were black and silver and not anything too bright. He’d met Lauren once, but he had an eye for faces and once he’d seen one, he didn’t forget. He just hoped Lauren remembered him.

  This whole thing was like being a spy from one of the action novels he’d read as a child, back when he’d dreamed of going undercover and solving crimes, being a hero.

  He raised a hand at the guards standing by the gate chin-wagging. and they raised theirs back before falling into position as he approached. Baal had explained how time ran differently in the Twilight—a few days spent there would equate to a handful of hours on this end. Plan was to be back in less than a day Lindrealm time.

  “You got the papers?” The nearest guard asked as he drew level.

  Brett held out the official document, signed and stamped by Baal in his capacity as the head honcho. The guard plucked it from his fingers, scanned it and handed it back.

  “Okay, have fun.”

  Brett tucked the document into the inner pocket of the fancy tunic he was wearing, tightened his grip on his hand luggage, and stepped through the gate. The world melted, his stomach lurched, and then he was chucking up his guts on fresh green grass.

  “Better?” A handkerchief was shoved under his nose. He took it gratefully and wiped at his mouth.

  “Water?” A flask took the place of the handkerchief.

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