“I don’t know you,” it seethed. “Are you one of his?”
“One of his . . . who?” I asked. “I don’t know you either, but what difference does that make? Who do you belong to?”
The creature laughed, and my spine seemed to lose some of its starch. I reminded myself I was the stronger opponent. It was night and he was the weak one. The Lyhtan crept closer.
A menacing hiss issued from its jagged-toothed mouth, and it crouched, looking ready to strike at any moment. It edged toward me. I stood, virtually defenseless, with only my stealth to aid me. I could have passed into shadow and left the Lyhtan behind me, but my curiosity burned. “I wish I had a sword right now,” I said under my breath.
Something moved behind me, and Tyler’s voice murmured close to my ear, “Your wish is my command.”
I didn’t have time to think about the hows and whys of what happened. The handle of the katana slid into my hand. I struck in a flash, passing into shadow and reappearing feet from my attacker. I spun and swung the samurai sword with all of my strength.
A screeching gasp burst from the Lyhtan’s mouth, like a great swarm of people crying out in agony. I sliced through its midsection as if it were made of butter. It doubled over, clutching at its gut, which oozed a thick, orange-tinted blood, and screamed words in a language I couldn’t understand. The wound began to heal as I watched, and the creature looked up, the drool running in a stream from its ugly mouth. Drawing a rasping breath, it turned and jumped, using the buildings of the alley for momentum as it bounced from wall to wall, ever upward, and fled into the dark with a speed that belied its clumsy form. Another grating scream pierced the night, echoing and then dissolving into eerie silence.
Tyler’s footsteps shuffled behind me, and I swung the sword around, its tip barely brushing his chest as he stopped dead in his tracks. He smiled at me.
“How did you get here?” I asked.
His lazy smile grew, and he tried to take a step closer. I pressed the sword’s tip closer to his heart. “No,” I said, staying his progress. “No more games. I want an answer. Now.”
“I told you: Everything is changing.”
Some explanation. The Lyhtan’s blood glistened like wet rust on my blade. I paused to look at it, disgusted, confused, and angry. I looked back at Tyler’s unchanging face. “What does Jinn mean?”
“It roughly translates to ‘genie,’ ” Tyler said.
Fuck me. Genie? “Like the kind that lives in a lamp?” I asked.
“Yes and no.” He shrugged. “I grant the occasional wish.”
I couldn’t take it. One more shock and I would have fallen down dead without anyone’s assistance. I became one with the darkness and left Tyler where he stood.
Chapter 13
Delilah waited by my building, looking like a potted plant wilting under the morning sun. Maybe she was getting as tired of our little arrangement as I was. We rode the lift in silence, but she cocked her head in my direction. Perhaps she sensed the questions forming on my tongue.
“Spill it,” I growled. “Everything you know.”
“If I tell you everything I know, we’ll be here for a year,” Delilah said, plopping down in front of the TV. It drove me crazy the way she talked and channel surfed at the same time.
“I’m not in the mood for your smart-ass answers,” I said. But she was right. Good Lord, between her and Levi it would cost a year of my time and a million dollars in fifties to properly educate me. “Tell me about Tyler. When you said you’ve known him for ages, you weren’t kidding, were you? Exactly how old are you?”
“Older than you by about ten centuries,” she said.
“And Tyler?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“Older than me.”
My cheeks flushed with anger and humiliation. Here I’d been, so superior in my otherness, boasting and tossing casual threats, demeaning Ty with human this and human that. And he literally had lifetimes on me. He’d let me make a fool of myself over and over again, never letting me in on his little secret.
“What about the wish granting. How does it work?”
“Well.” Delilah paused to listen to the verdict on her court show. “It’s not like the stories. You don’t come across a lamp or bottle and give it a good rub. He’s not a slave, per se. But he can tie himself to someone if he wants to. Once he’s chosen the bond, he becomes that person’s sworn protector, and he only grants that person’s wishes. No others until you break the bond. His loyalty is uncompromising.”
“How do you break it?” Delilah’s attention drifted back to the television, but she heard me.
“There are no magic words or rituals, Darian. You simply end it.”
Kind of like a breakup, I guessed. “So if I say, ‘Tyler, I don’t want you as my genie. Go away,’ he has to do as I ask?”
“Pretty much,” Delilah said. “But why would you want to? If it’s in his power, he’ll help you any way he can.”
“Are there restrictions?” I asked. “I mean, could I wish for world peace, a billion dollars, or a new car—and just get it?”
“There are restrictions,” Delilah said, “but you’ll have to ask Tyler about that. I’m no Jinn, and I don’t know the rules.”
“What are you?”
“I’m a Seer, plain and simple. More to the point, I’m an Oracle, but as few can afford that service, it goes unused for the most part.”
“So . . . you see the future?”
“Sometimes.”
“Can you tell me mine?”
Delilah laughed. “Sorry, it doesn’t work like that. You have to make a sacrifice. Like I said, few can afford the price.”
“You’ve been around the block a few times. You know all about us, don’t you?”
Delilah turned her attention from the TV and threw down the remote. “If you’re talking about Shaedes, sure, I know about them.”
I hated feeling vulnerable. And this moment proved no less unsettling. I had once been strong, confident, and self-assured. Now I was weak, self-conscious, and unsure. I had no sense of identity. A creature without race or allegiance. Even more of a nothing than I was by my very nature.
“Delilah,” I ventured, “how do you kill a Shaede? Is it with a magic blade?”
Her head jerked in the avian fashion that made her look so wild. Pity poured off her like rotten honey, and it made me sick. I didn’t want pity. I wanted answers.
“There are stranger and stronger bonds than the one you have with Tyler,” Delilah said. “A bond with one of your own is what gives you power over life and death.”
Fear congealed into a sour lump in the pit of my stomach. I could barely comprehend the words as she spoke them. Here I was, nearly one hundred years since my making, and tiny, strange Delilah was laying out who I was more plainly than Azriel or Xander ever had.
“A parent and child, husband and wife, maker and made: These are all the strongest of bonds, and the only thing that will lend you dominion over one of your own. It’s not that strange. These bonds are strong no matter your creed.”
“No matter the time of day?” I ventured.
“Anyplace, anytime, anywhere,” she said.
Xander. That son of a bitch. He’d known all about me; he hadn’t stumbled across me. My skills weren’t impressive or unique. I held power over someone he wanted dead, and I was the only one who could deliver the blow. No magic blade would do the job, no weapon designed specifically to carry out our executions. I was the weapon. Me and me alone.
“Azriel,” I whispered in disbelief. “He’s alive.”