Morbid curiosity got the better of me. “Why then?” I glanced at the car to find the djinni watching us from backseat, my last Twinkie dwarfed in his fist. Selfish bastard.
“Xaphan and Dever go way back. Back to the Black Plague, in fact. They used to work the same sections of Europe, blazing trails of pain and chaos like teenagers today mark their turf with graffiti and burned rubber.”
“Howdo you know so little about teenagers, when your sisterisone?” Shouldn’tIhave been the out-of-touch old lady in this scenario?
He scowled. “My point is that they have history.”
I nodded slowly. “A demon and a djinni tearing through medieval Europe like sailors on shore leave? I can totally see it.”
“Yeah. But here’s the problem: Xaphan started the fire that basically ended the Black Plague.” Cale’s gaze searched mine, obviously seeking some sort of comprehension. “Do you see what I’m getting at?”
“Xaphan rained all over Dever’s parade? I take it they’re not the best of friends anymore.”
Cale nodded. “Dever got so pissed about the end of his plague party that he turned Xaphan in.”
“In?”
“To my mother and the elementals. Hegavethe djinni to them. Practically bound and gagged. He’s the reason Xaphan spent four hundred years cuddled up with a corpse.”
“Oh, shit. So, Xaphan’s not going to be very happy to see his old buddy.”
Cale shook his head slowly, sunlight shining on his golden hair. “No, he won’t. Dever knows this, of course. Once he’s free, Xaphan will be out for a pound of demon flesh—and whatever else comes off with it. I think that’s why Dever was hunting me in the first place: he needs me to put jack back in the box.”
Ohhhh. That particular question had been bugging me ever since Lori mentioned the reward for bringing Cale in alive. I knew whatIwanted him for, but something had told me Devich’s plans for the sea sprite included neither a bed post, a bottle of baby oil, or a series of body shots, though he might have found use for the length of rope in my backpack.
Impressed, I felt my eyes widen. “Can you do that? Can you put Xaphan back in djinni jail?” If so, why hadn’t he already?
“On my own? I doubt it. But Dever doesn’t seem to know that. He probably only knows that I inherited my mother’s abilities, and while he can’t get anywhere nearher, he stands a decent shot at getting his hands on me. Or my sister. But where Cari’s concerned, the joke’s on him. She inherited more from her father than from our mother. She could never handle Xaphan.”
In the car, the djinni shoved the last bite of my last Twinkie into his mouth, staring right at me. I turned away from him in disgust. “It’s a moot point now, though, isn’t it?”
Cale nodded solemnly. “But I donotwant to be caught between the two of them when Xaphan sets his eyes on Dever.”
“Maybe we can convince him to stay behind.”
“You can try, but I’m not holding my breath.” His shoulders slumped in defeat. Or maybe acceptance. “We’ve only got an hour. Let’s go.” Cale opened the driver’s side door and slid behind the wheel as I sank into the passenger seat, intentionally ignoring the djinni’s demands to know what we were talking about and why I’d spoken into the tiny silver box.
I breathed a silent sigh of relief over his technological ignorance. So far, he had no idea we’d been in contact with either Dever or Cale’s mother, but if he grew to understand electronics as fast as he’d come by his love of snack food and grasp of modern vernacular, we’d be in serious trouble.
As Cale started the engine, I twisted in my seat to make eye contact with Orthus. I was hoping to pacify him with some quick talking, to make up for leaving him alone with the djinni. But the hellhound was gone. In his place I found only a patch of deep gloom.
“Where’s Orthus?” I demanded, glaring at Xaphan. “What did you do to him?”
The djinni shrugged. “I only wanted to inspect his teeth. They’re so fantastically sharp and curved.”
Wonderful. The djinni I couldn’t get rid of had chased off the only partner I’d ever truly trusted. My scowl deepened, and I bit my tongue to keep from saying something I’d regret. We needed Xaphan now more than ever, if the infant idea forming in my mind was to ever reach maturity.
We had little time to plan, which was just as well, because we also had very few options. According to Cale—and thousands of years of elemental lore—we couldn’t kill Devich, and I didn’t hold out much hope of disabling him, after having shot him twice with no success. So we decided to save offensive tactics as our Plan B.
After a short discussion in a makeshift keep-djinni-in-the-dark code, we decided that our main strategy would involve a mixture of bait-and-switch and good old-fashioned lying, both of which I had plenty of experience with. In the home décor aisle of a local hobby store, Cale found an antique-looking clay pot with a lid, which we planned to paste on with some superglue from the craft section. Once we removed the sticker reading “made in China,” it was difficult to tell at a glance that the pot wasn’t several hundred—or a thousand—years old. Even Xaphan was impressed, and since Dever had never actually seen the real one, we were hopeful that he’d fall for our fake at least long enough for us to get Lacey to safety.
For the final touch, we needed the djinni’s help, a prospect which did not sit well with me in the least. Or with him, in part because we couldn’t tell him why we needed his help or what we were up to. In the end, I had to bargain for his cooperation, and it took every bit of dramatic skill I possessed to convince him that if he helped us, once we had what we wanted, I would use my wish and set him free.
He wasn’t buying it, until I told him—while Cale was inside buying the fake pot—that I intended to use my wish to get back at the half-breed incubus bastard for not telling me what he really was before I slept with him. When I said that, Xaphan’s eyes gleamed in anticipation, and he looked at me with so much respect that my stomach churned. I didn’t want the respect of such a monster. But my lie worked, either because he hated Cale or was curious about how I would exact my revenge. Or both.
Fortunately, what we needed from the djinni was simple and easy. We wanted him to stay out of sight, but near enough for his presence to be felt by all of those involved. If Dever didn’t feel the djinni when we gave him the pot, he wouldn’t buy our ruse, and Lacey would die. And we probably would too.
Xaphan outright refused to get into the new pot, even though glue alone wasn’t enough to seal him in, and I couldn’t really blame him. But after a few more minutes of cajoling, and several hints at what I wanted him to do to Daphne’s son, he admitted that he could manipulate his physical form anyway he saw fit—changing his size, stature, and even his…opacity. Evidently that was how he fit into the original pot in the first place.
