Kavon pressed his lips together, and every line of his body was tight with displeasure. “I have a responsibility to the Shamanic Council, and what about the ifrit war?”
Now Kavon was reaching. “You ignore the council so often that I’m not sure they’ll notice we’re gone. And the ifrit war could be thirty years away. Put on your supervisory hat. If you had an agent who refused to take time off and was in danger of burning out, what would you do?”
“If you're suggesting that I can’t handle the stress, we have a problem.”
Darren grabbed the remote and turned the volume down. He didn’t need to hear about the statistics on rising Talent-based crime and hate crimes against those with Talent. “If you plan on going years without a break because the war could start tomorrow... well, you can’t. It’s not healthy.”
“I know what I can handle.” Clearly expecting that gruff comment to end the debate, Kavon retreated to the kitchen. However, he had underestimated Darren’s powers of annoyance.
“You are exactly like your guide, a big stubborn bull who won't back down even when you should.”
Kavon crossed his arms. “Do you think we have decades?”
Darren had to admit that Kavon had a point. Darren had seen the numbers. In the past, a few young people would end up with guides like Kavon’s bull—big, dangerous, and full of old magic. However, most new shamans partnered with small, innocuous guides: birds, fish, or squirrels. But in the last six months, the DC Council had registered several large predators including two whales and a shark, and other powerful guides like a bison latifrons and a Steller's sea cow. For a guide to prefer the form of an animal that had gone extinct hundreds of years ago, it had to be old. Something was shifting, and all the guides knew it. Unfortunately, the guides lacked the ability to explain what.
“That’s even more reason for us to get away while we can. We can't work ourselves to the bone, and then expect to be on the top of our game if something happens.”
Kavon slapped his hand against the counter. “And we can't afford to be off on vacation when it starts. You and I both know it’s coming.”
DC, Mexico City, West Texas, and the Vatican were all showing vast increases in the number of magical “hot spots,” so Kavon was probably right. Darren knew for a fact there were ancient ifrit in Washington DC and El Paso, so that suggested that ifrit guides might have also returned to Mexico and the Vatican. Considering Mexico was aligned with the Catholic Church, it would be normal for them to hide information from the Egyptian authorities. Some days, Darren regretted that the Talent community was so stereotypically human with political divisions and prejudices.
“There are these wondrous devices called aeroplanes,” Darren said. Sarcasm was never the best approach with Kavon, but he was tired and cranky and he just wanted to win one God damn fight. “If something happens while we’re away, we can come back. In fact, Salma would happily authorize the use of the private jet.”
“Salma will approve anything you ask for.” Kavon’s tone made it clear he didn’t approve.
“We can go visit your family. You know you miss them.” This was Darren’s biggest carrot. While Kavon kept a distance between himself and his family, when he talked to them, he radiated a soul-deep joy and longing.
Kavon looked away. “I do,” he admitted in a much softer voice. “However, I don't want to be visiting my family when some evil ifrit decides to turn us into a smoking crater. Bennu might have astounding powers, but so will every other ifrit that comes back to this world.”
Kavon was annoyingly logical sometimes. “Okay, so we can visit someplace that you don't like. How about that town in Alabama where the local police captain called you the n-word? We can visit there and hope evil ifrit blow up the whole town. That would be a plus, yes?”
Kavon glared, but emotions leaked into the bond again, and amusement dominated the landscape.
“Look, I don't even care where we go. DC has beautiful resorts, so we can do a staycation. We can take a week to get away from the apartment and turn the phones off. And at the end of the week, we will be more prepared to handle any problems. As a bonus, Coretta will have time to gel with her new team without you glaring at them.”
“Her team is untested. I don’t want them to leave her or Les or Ahtisham hanging if there’s an emergency.” That felt like a more honest answer, and Darren shared a tiny bit of that trepidation. After Traci Frane’s betrayal, Darren had struggled to trust anyone, and the lingering effects of that still made him search Milton’s nervous gestures for evidence he was faking, or watch Anne type and wonder what she would say about the rest of them in her reports. But he tried to shut down that part of his brain. Joe had done extensive undercover work and Jen had top scores at Quantico. Anne was an experienced field agent and Milton... well if anyone tried using him as a spy, they were idiots. Everything he thought came out his mouth. All of the new people on Coretta’s team and theirs were ambitious agents seeking a fast track to promotion, and nothing in their behavior was objectively suspicious.
“Not only are the number of Talent crimes increasing, but we have additional scrutiny on us as well.” Kavon’s bull showed up, a chunk of grass hanging from one side of his mouth as he searched for a threat. Darren braced himself for more of Kavon at his cantankerous best, but after a minute, Kavon sagged against the kitchen island.
“We’re not leaving town,” Kavon said in a stubborn voice that someone else might have assumed meant he was digging in on his position, but Darren recognized a retreat when he saw it.
“Pick a resort.”
“My magical shields are strongest here.” Kavon crossed his arms over his chest, a touch of that stubbornness returning to his expression.
Darren sighed. Sometimes compromising with Kavon felt like putting his shoulder up to a Cape buffalo bull and pushing hard. But he’d take what he could get because Kavon needed the time off as badly as he did. “We turn all phones off, don’t check email and veg out on a week of bad movies.” Darren laid out his terms.
After a second, Kavon gave one jerky nod. “Deal. I’ll fill out the forms. But if the office blows up and Kaslov shoots Coretta in the back, I’m going to remind you of this.” Kavon abandoned his beer and headed for the spiral staircase that led up to the small office where he liked to meditate.
Darren sighed. Apparently Kavon had demoted Joe to surname-references only. Baby steps. Darren glared at Kavon’s bull. “This is your fault. Your protective instincts are all turned on high and it’s sending him into overdrive.”
As usual, the guide ignored the complaint and kept chewing his imaginary grass. Guides. Darren frowned. When Kavon’s bull was around, Bennu rode along. Not now. He shook his head. Kavon’s paranoia was contagious.
