I stood up and shoved my way into the aisle. My large, oddly shaped body made it hard to navigate. Someone kicked my leg as I passed by and shouted at me. “Sit down, you ugly butt crumb!”
Carver and Ryker were right behind me, and Ryker smacked the shouter in the head. He took one look at her grotesque form and decided he didn’t want to insult me anymore.
“Where are we going?” Carver asked as we exited the main chamber into the hallway. “And what the hell was Zev doing up there on stage with that woman? That didn’t look like he was caught, at least not unwillingly.”
My palm had started to warm again the moment we’d exited into the hallway. I flexed my fingers, confused as to what it all meant. “I don’t know what’s going on, but that wasn’t Zev. Or at least it’s not the Zev I know. He wouldn’t prance around half-naked on a stage and give a fire show to a bunch of depraved assholes.”
Carver grabbed my arm and yanked me to a halt. His gaze met mine. “That’s exactly what it looks like he did.”
“You look like a walking booger, Carver. Looks are deceiving.,” I told him, taking my arm back. Zev had been in pain. I’d felt it.
“What’s the plan, Stan?” Ryker asked. “I’d say we go in guns blazing, but I don’t have one.”
“We follow my hand in an elaborate game of hot and cold,” I said. “If Zev doesn’t need help, I’ll have to hear it from his lips.” My brows knitted as I thought about his lips on that woman’s. I hated the way she’d touched him and the way his hands had been on her breasts.
If you’re not trapped and being forced to act out sexual contact, I thought, then I will kill you, Zev.
As we hurried through the labyrinthine corridors of the theater, the warmth in my hand guiding our path, I couldn't shake the feeling of urgency. The narrow passageways seemed to twist and turn endlessly—this freaking place! The walls were adorned with fading posters and vintage sconces of a time past when this place wasn’t a cesspit.
“Look,” Carver said, pointing to a poster for the musical UnBearable. The poster featured a giant teddy bear with a yellow bow around its neck and sitting in a rocking chair holding a baby doll. “It’s the teddy bear.”
A surge of exhilaration spurred me on faster. That was the final clue from the dream—more proof that we were on the right track. Up ahead, a door with a sign that read “employees only” was guarded by a menacing behemoth with grayish skin and beady eyes. The man was intimidating. However, the pulsing heat in my hand told me that he was standing between me and my djinn.
Carver, that clever, clever witch, wasted no time in pulling out a vial filled with a strange, blue liquid. “Hold your breath,” he commanded, his voice low and urgent, as he gestured for Ryker and me to keep moving.
I obeyed, holding my breath as we hurried toward the thug and the door he guarded. Carver's swift motion was like a blur as he threw the delicate ampule against the wall near the man, and a hiss of gas escaped, enveloping the gray man in a cloud of mist.
The effect was immediate. The guy staggered, clutching at his throat, before collapsing to the ground in an unconscious heap. I threw the door open, and we darted through. I closed it behind us and waited until we were several feet away before I took another breath.
“Wow.” I high-fived Carver. “That was awesome. Where did you get the knockout gas?”
“I used a few items from Martel’s store and made a couple of them when you were showering,” he replied. “I thought we might need some kind of defense, especially the way this trip has been going.”
“It was good thinking, Buddy,” Ryker patted him on the shoulder. “Now, let’s go before you’re forced to use another.” She looked at me. “Where to next?”
“This is the right way.” My hand was on fire again—thankfully, not literally, but it burned like it.
We hurried down a dimly lit hallway, through a crossed corridor, and then through a pair of double doors that led to the stage area. We were right in the middle of a bunch of theater people. Dancers and stagehands were everywhere, and I was surprised that our presence hadn’t caused a commotion. We were truly heinous to look at. They barely glanced at us, and in our current form, which was pretty darn suspicious. We kept moving until we reached the back of the theater, the pulsating heat working double time.
Near the dressing rooms, there was a door that displayed “Manager” on a metal plaque mid-top center. I turned the knob. The hallway was empty. That was a relief. Another stick bomb wasn’t on my list of favorite things.
“It’s locked,” I hissed.
Ryker stepped up. “Let me handle it.” She retrieved a small leather lockpick case from her pocket. “I also got a few things from Martel.”
“Are you any good at—” Before I could finish my question, she deftly opened the door. “Never mind.”
This was it. Zev was on the other side of the door. I knew it to my core. You better be in deep-ass trouble, mister.
“There’s no one in here,” Carver observed.
The room was a curious blend of elegance and chaos, with plush velvet curtains framing the windows and intricately carved wooden furniture scattered about in disarray. A delicate scent of oleander hung in the air. But Carver was right. The room was empty of people.
On the desk, an empty decanter-sized clear glass bottle sat tall amongst the paperwork and files. Its surface was adorned with intricate etchings that reminded me of the cuneiform symbols on my hand. The bottle shimmered as it caught the light.
“Guys,” I hissed. “Over here.”
With trembling hands, I reached for the container, the warmth in my hand intensifying as I touched the cool glass. Instantly, a vortex of smoke swirled inside the bottle, and Zev's voice echoed through the room.
“I'm here, libbu ša. You have found me, but you cannot save me. Go, before you’re trapped, too.”
Relief flooded through me at the sound of his voice, mingled with a newfound confusion about his unexpected prison. “It’s him,” I said.
“Where?” Carver asked.
“Didn’t you hear him? He said he’s here. That he can’t escape.”
Carver’s brow dipped. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Neither did I,” Ryker concurred.
I grabbed the bottle, and everything changed.
This was the Hunter’s tearoom, and I watched a fly on the wall as Zev addressed Shay as if they were old friends. “Thank you,” he said to the two-faced not-a-god asshole. “I will send payment soon.”
“I trust you,” Shay said. I know you’re good for it.” He finger-combed his thick, wavy hair. “Did you think about giving Lamia the meeting she requested?”
“It’s been over for a long time.” Zev’s expression darkened. “There is nothing left between us.”
Shay laughed. “My man, I don’t think she got the memo.” He sighed. “Ah well, better days for the three of us. It was good to see you, Za’fir. I hope we meet again.”
Zev crossed the room to the carmine door and exited the room. When he walked onto the street, he froze. Literally, as if stone. I felt helpless watching as a woman uncapped a glass decanter and said, “I bind thee, Za'fir, bathed in fire, birthed in ash, enter this bottle that can't be smashed, flame makes it stronger, you are free no longer, mine for eternity as it always has been, as it will always be.”
When she finished, Zev’s mouth opened, and tendrils of smoke fled through his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears and into the bottle. The woman capped it with a clear lid. She held the bottle to her lips and kissed it gently. “You will obey me, Za’fir, or I will make sure you never leave this bottle again.” She gestured to two familiar men, Cooper and his buddy Baldy. “Take the body to the theatre. And if I see even one scratch on his skin or a hair out of place, I will make you pay dearly.” She flicked a forked tongue at them, and they both hurried to retrieve Zev’s body from where she’d paralyzed him.
Carver took the bottle from me, and the vision faded. I was angry and horrified. “She made Zev her slave.” I blinked back tears. “We have to get him out of there.”
I quickly explained what I’d seen to Ryker and Carver, including what I could remember of the incantation and the forked tongue at the end. Talk about heebie-jeebies.
“Lamia was the name of a Greek goddess who seduced men and bent them to her will,” Ryker informed us. “She would use her poison to paralyze men, then hypnotize them to do her bidding.”
“That sounds a lot like what’s happening right now.” I touched the glass. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Zev responded. “Lamia is dangerous. She was my first and only master. She plans to make it a more permanent position. I will never be free.”
“I don’t believe that. I won’t let her win.”
“Marigold, this is diamond glass. It can’t be smashed. It can’t be melted. It can’t be cut. I tried to escape, and my fire made it stronger. I’ll be okay, as long as I know you are safe. Go.”
“Not without you.”
“This vessel is hers. If you take it, she will find you.”
“What’s he saying?” Ryker asked.
“That he’s a lost cause.” I pulled the bandage off my palm. I held up my hand and showed the bottle Zev’s mark. “If you didn’t want me in the thick of it, then you shouldn’t have marked me.”
“I’m pretty sure you marked yourself,” Carver volunteered.
I glared at him then glared at the bottle. “Well, who cares? I’m marked. I’ve got a piece of your soul in me. And now I want all of it...out of this bottle, I mean, and back into your body. Where is your body?”
“Somewhere you’ll never find it, thief,” a woman said. “I’ll take my bottle. If you leave now, I’ll let you keep your lives.”
It was the bitch who’d trapped him in the bottle, then took his body on stage and ran her hands all over it. “Carver, you got your blue thing handy.”
“Yep,” he said. “Get ready.”
“Ready,” Ryker chimed in.
“Sorry, lady, but the djinn’s coming with me.” I held my breath as Carver threw the knockout potion. However, it didn’t knock Lamia unconscious. It did, however, startle her long enough for us to get past her. I’m sure we seemed awfully fast for a group of monsters. We ducked into the dressing room and out of sight. It was time to change. “For all you haters, see your laters,” I whispered. Carver and Ryker did the same. “Let’s find some less conspicuous clothing.” I pointed to a rolling wardrobe rack at the back. “There.”
Carver still carried Zev as we ducked behind the wall of costumes.
“I’ll take him,” I told my friend.
“Are you sure?” Carver’s expression was worried. “Just give me my djinn, Carver.” He reluctantly handed me the bottle.
“We need to get out of here,” Ryker said. “This place is going to be swarming with rough-and-ready types soon.”
“I’m not leaving without Zev’s body.” I looked at the bottle. “It’s the only one you have, right? There are no spares anywhere?”
He chuckled. “Oh, how I have missed you. No, there is no spare.”
“That settles it, then. You all can go, but I’m not leaving without his meat suit.” I changed into a pale, gauzy dress that hit me below my knees. It was a little tight across the boobs, but otherwise fit okay. Ryker put on some kind of uniform, while Carver dressed in a black hooded Grim Reaper robe. We were totally inconspicuous.
“Is there another robe?” I asked. “I can use it to hide the bottle.”
Carver handed one to me, and I slipped it on. “Perfect,” I said, then shook my head at the three of us. Ryker looked like a soldier being escorted to her death. “Nope,” I reiterated. “Not conspicuous at all.”
When we stepped back out into the dressing room, I noticed that the female dancers were chatting while the men were virtual zombies. When I got to a brunette doing her hair and makeup alone, I casually said, “I’m a new dancer. I’m part of the new Death In Paradise number.”
“Welcome aboard,” she said without even looking at me.
“Thanks, yeah. Uhm. Who was the hottie on stage with Lamia in that first number? He scorched that stage and not just with flames.”
That got the dancer’s attention. She lowered her voice, “He’s her special case,” she said. “But don’t let her catch you talking about him. That will get you fired on the spot...or worse.”
“Noted. Good advice,” I said. “So he doesn’t use the dressing room with the rest of us peons, huh?”
“Not even,” the girl said. “He has his own room, V. I. P. It’s across the stage. Here is some more advice: avoid that area like your life depends on it because it does. Two weeks ago, Lamia caught Larissa poking around, and she stabbed her with that big knife she uses in the first act. It’s not a prop.”
“Thanks,” I said, tipping my head to her. I held Zev close to my body under the robes as we exited.
We stuck to the shadows behind the curtain to avoid detection. Carver and Ryker had stopped asking questions and just let me take the lead. It was much easier that way.
“You are very good,” the ifrit said. “You could talk a starving man out of his last piece of bread.”
“But I wouldn’t.”
“Which is why you are special. You use your power for good.”
I snorted a quiet laugh. “If by power you mean bullshit, then sure.” I saw the door the dancer had talked about. “His body’s in there,” I said to my friends. “Let’s get it and go.”
“And how are we supposed to carry a body out without getting caught?” Ryker asked.
The questions were back. “I’m a discovery thinker,” I told her. “I’ll know what to do when the time comes.”
“I don’t feel reassured,” she said sarcastically, but she kept following, so I took it as a win. A surge of triumph rushed through me as we made it to the door. Bonus: it was unlocked!
My victory didn’t last. Inside the room, Lamia stood behind Zev’s body, a knife pinned against his throat. A slow smile spread across her lips. “Is this what you were looking for?” She nipped the skin just enough to make it bleed. “Give me the bottle, darling. And I’ll care for Za’fir as if he were a rare treasure. Because he is. And my ifrit is priceless.” She narrowed her stare. “However, if I can’t have him…” She cut deeper into his flesh. “No one will.”