| |
BREACHING THE BARRIER that skinned the portal was like pushing through a combination of clammy Jell-O and prickly electric current. Instinctively, Georgie sucked in and held a breath. A second later, she didn’t have breath to hold. Everything disappeared: light, sound, even physical sensation. No hands clasped hers. No angel. No djinni. Panic seized her dimly, as if her brain were blurred. Was she spinning? Falling? Was she even alive?
Connor! she thought.
You’re all right, someone said. She couldn’t tell who it was. For all she knew, she was talking to herself.
I’m all right, she thought, in case she actually was alone and had no one else to count on. I’m—
She reappeared, abruptly so solid in her body she felt twice her normal weight. Her backpack had made it through the portal too, and its continued forward motion unbalanced her. Her knees smacked the ground, making her glad she’d chosen heavier traveling clothes. She’d have ripped anything less substantial than her black buckled leather pants. Connor and Iksander caught her from either side, their tandem grips preventing her from pitching onto her face.
Neither man was unsteady from the journey. Not surprisingly, Iksander released her first.
“Whew!” Connor said as if he’d found the trip exciting. “You okay, Georgie?”
His grin of enjoyment was impossible not to respond to.
“I think so,” she said, smiling back. Her heart pounded crazily in her chest. She gazed around. Behind them, the door they’d come through seemed to have disappeared, its charge exhausted by the many travelers who’d just used it. Iksander glanced at the spot and nodded, so perhaps he sensed some remnant. Either way, she couldn’t fret over it too much. Their surroundings were interesting. Their scattered group stood on a broad covered portico. To her left was the abandoned power plant, the walls of which were black and featureless and curved. The giant columns she’d noted earlier didn’t block the arctic cold. Her breath came out in clouds, her muscles already shivering. Only the hand Connor held was warm. “This place is realer than I expected.”
“Of course it’s real,” Captain Taytoch snapped. “As is our impatience to return home at long last.”
Taytoch’s tetchiness would have stung if Georgie hadn’t wanted the demons safely off her hands. Back in her dimension, they’d have too many opportunities to cause trouble. Knowing how Luna treated them—no pay, no respect, not even a guarantee of their lives—reminded her to be tolerant.
“I understand,” she said. “Do you want to go to the transfer point right away? I’m happy to help you unlock it if you’re ready to show me how.”
“It’s this way,” he said, striding off abruptly.
Georgie wondered if he’d expected—or maybe wanted—her to argue. She bit back a smile as, caught by surprise, his crew jerked into motion to follow him. The bags the bodyguards were dragging clanked over the granite floor.
“Mind the ice,” her buddy Ishmael called cheerily over his shoulder. “Feet without claws can slip.”
Iksander hissed as his skidded, despite wearing sturdy work boots the same as her and Connor. Georgie recalled that his Glorious City was warm year-round, more Miami than Moscow. The sultan’s scowl didn’t lessen as Taytoch led them off the portico and down an incline of knee-deep snow. Georgie wasn’t used to that herself. Virginia had the white stuff, of course, especially the Blue Ridge area where she lived. This, however, was snow on steroids. She had to drive her feet hard into the drifts to break the crust on top.
On the bright side, the exertion warmed her up.
A few tramps later, Connor jolted to a halt.
“Look how beautiful!” he exclaimed, gesturing toward the sky. “The stars are even brighter than in Black Bear.”
The small town she and Connor hailed from didn’t suck for stargazing, but these skies were astonishing. Milky swaths of uncountable twinkling diamonds festooned the ebony void, like she’d only seen in photographs taken by fancy telescopes. Despite the urgency of their errand, she stopped in her tracks and gaped.
Possibly because he needed to catch his breath, Iksander paused as well.
“We’re above the reach of the city lights,” he explained. “And djinn don’t have pollution like humans.”
Being able to make the comment seemed to improve his mood. The sultan was a proud man. He’d been thrust into her world alone, stripped of the privileges he was used to, and forced to live under circumstances humble enough to be degrading. Though she hadn’t heard him complain, she suspected he enjoyed feeling superior again.
Taytoch didn’t appreciate their dawdling.
“Could we get on with this?” he called from ahead, his voice low but carrying. “Perhaps before some other ass-wipe sorceress senses our presence and tries to makes us her prize? There are only four million practitioners of the unnatural arts down there.”
Four million, Georgie thought. That was a big city.
“Sorry,” Connor said, the grin he flashed contradicting his repentance. “We’ll hurry now. Promise.”
They did hurry, and caught up at a flat outcrop shielded from the city’s view by a scattering of evergreens. The valet-demon Fariel, whose main work for Luna had involved magically stealing luxuries off the internet, was waving his arms and spelling snow off the ground as efficiently as a snow blower. The removal of the frigid blanket revealed a five-foot-wide manhole. The cover wasn’t iron—to which djinn were allergic—but slightly tarnished embossed silver.
“This is the spot,” Fariel said once the space was clear. The valet sounded excited, and he wasn’t the only one. The girl demon Pink was biting her thumb and bouncing on her feet. Georgie supposed all Taytoch’s crew were looking forward to going home again.
With Connor’s help, she climbed the long step up onto the square platform.
“What do I do?” she asked Taytoch.
The question seemed to dismay him. “That’s up to you. Luna set the lock that sealed this transfer point to our world, to prevent us from escaping. Normally, only she could remove it. Because you’re human, your magic outranks hers.”
She’d heard this claim before. The story went that God created angels from air, djinn from smokeless fire, and lastly humans out of clay. Up until her race’s appearance, djinn were God’s favorites. For whatever reason, He moved the Johnny-come-latelies into the number two spot, demoting genies in the process. Angels agreed to the new pecking order but not djinn. For their stubbornness, God revoked their ability to speak to his winged choirs. More galling, humans who knew the right rituals and possessed sufficient faith could now command the djinn—King Solomon being the foremost example.
Knowing this would have been more helpful if Georgie could remotely imagine herself as that king’s equal. To her mind, she was basically a normal person. Luna, her former guardian and a supposedly inferior genie, had exercised more power than Georgie could wrap her head around. She’d turned the entire population of Iksander’s capital into statues. Hell, she’d freaking gone back in time to alter Georgie’s past! Georgie didn’t see how she was going to break a spell the empress set without assistance.
Ishmael’s small upturned face caught her attention. The gargoyle smiled calmly at her, his wire-rimmed spectacles glinting with starlight. He’d been a mentor of sorts when he’d run Luna’s library.
“Could you teach me a chant that would work?” she asked hopefully.
He shook his head. “My knowledge is irrelevant. You must speak from your heart. From your faith.”
That word always made Georgie think of church, and she was no pew warmer. Unsure, she rubbed her upper lip with a gloved finger.
“You’re not that different from the other you,” Iksander interjected, referring to the alternate timeline Luna had erased in order to—so she’d hoped—prevent Georgie from allying with Iksander. The strategy hadn’t worked, but Georgie no longer remembered the more traditionally spiritual person she’d been before.
“Iksander is right,” Connor said, giving her puffy coat sleeve a supportive rub. “Belief is part of you, and impossible to remove. Ishmael could teach you all the chants he knows. It’s your conviction that makes them work.”
The confidence in his eyes almost persuaded her.
“Oh fine,” Georgie surrendered.
Resigned to trying, though hardly brimming with self-assurance, she shrugged off her big backpack. That weight gone, she stepped to the edge of the silver manhole. Magical symbols marched in relief around a central glyph: Luna’s slender crescent moon. Under her coat, Georgie broke out in nervous sweat. Christ, she hated improvising. If she’d had her laptop, she could have cribbed something that sounded faith-y off Google.
Then again, she could look faithful if she wanted. Fake it till you make it, like people said. She knelt down, folded her hands together, and brought them to her mouth.
“Heavenly Father—” she began.
Though she hadn’t meant to alarm them, every one of the gathered demons took a step back.
She couldn’t help it. She coughed a short chuckle. “Sorry,” she said, trying to control her amusement.
“That’s all right,” Ishmael assured her. “You go ahead. We’ll keep a safe distance.”
Georgie felt Connor move beside her, his hand falling briefly to stroke her knitted cap. Connor was an angel. If he didn’t laugh at her half-assed attempt to pray, probably it was okay. She closed her eyes and quieted her thoughts.
“Heavenly Father,” she repeated. “Please look down and bless these demons You also created. They’ve been in captivity a lot of years, the same as other folks You helped out a time or two. They don’t want to cause trouble, only to go back home. I think they should be allowed to. If You’re okay with that, please help me unlock this door for them.”
She didn’t feel anything in particular, but pulling off her gloves seemed like a good idea. Hands bare, she bent forward to place her palms on the outer rim of the manhole cover. The icy metal warmed instantly, which maybe was a good sign.
Unexpectedly, she recalled something Luna said in her role as Georgie’s fake guardian. There are two kinds of people in the world, she’d observed. Bosses and sheep. Georgie was a boss. Back home, she ran her own business. Black Cat Upcycle might be small but it was hers, no question.
I’m the boss, she thought. Fair to the djinn or not, God made me the boss of this.
“Open,” she said more commandingly. “I am the instrument of justice. This barrier to passage has no right to exist. Break now and make a way.”
She pushed the edge of the manhole with all her might, picturing it as a cracker snapping in the middle. She felt something then, a flash of heat streaking from her center and out her hands. A fissure of light crazed across the metal, whining like a mosquito. When the fissure hit Luna’s symbol, the cover cracked into two pieces.
“Whoa,” she said and sat back on her heels in shock.
Connor laughed and squeezed her shoulder. “Georgie, you have to stop being surprised by your successes.”
The ifrits weren’t surprised. They’d already sprung into action to perform the next task for their departure.
“Thank you,” Taytoch said, gesturing for his crew to drag the lumpy amphorae bags closer. Sensing she was no longer needed, Georgie moved out of the way to watch.
The ifrits must have thought time was of the essence. The bodyguards began uncorking vessels with great efficiency, pouring one glowing stream after another down the crack Georgie had opened. A faint frame of light shimmered into being above the manhole, soon topped by a graceful Moroccan arch. The arch grew brighter as they fed in more energy. Ghostly ornaments appeared around it: colored tilework and stone carving.
As soon as the first canvas bag was flat, the guards yanked open the second.
“Wait,” Taytoch ordered.
“We’re not done, Captain,” the female objected, her face dismayed. “The portal is barely three-quarters charged.”
“Wait,” Taytoch repeated.
He turned to Georgie and Connor. His expression said he didn’t want to delay any more than his underlings.
“Yes?” Georgie asked, wondering what the hang-up was.
Taytoch lifted his naturally haughty chin. “I feel honor bound to warn you that if we continue, insufficient energy will remain to power your journey home. You and . . . the angel will be stranded here until you acquire an alternate supply.”
Georgie looked at Connor, who shrugged at her. “You know me, Georgie. I always think problems will work out. I’m willing to stay if it means Taytoch can go home.”
Iksander had two cents to add as well. “Taytoch isn’t wrong about his crew being vulnerable to exploitation by other sorcerers. Luna was a product of this city, not an anomaly. The longer the ifrits stay here, the greater the odds they’ll be discovered.”
The sultan’s face was cool, as if stating facts that didn’t affect him. Logically, though, why would he wish to spend more time in her company? Georgie would be foolish to want him to.
She shook off the tiny awareness that she did.
“I think we have to do what’s right.” She turned to Taytoch. “Use whatever power you need. Just—” She hesitated, her inner junk salvager rising up. “Please leave us the empty vessels. We might find a use for them.”
The snake demon bowed to her from the waist. “Your mercy shines as brightly as your foresight.”
She wasn’t sure he was sincere. Taytoch was hard to read. Whatever he meant, he didn’t waste further time. He joined his underlings in tipping out the shining contents of the remaining jars. When they’d finished, not only did the tiled arch look solid, but it possessed a small spinning sun.
“In,” he ordered his associates.
They went one at a time but in quick succession. In contrast to the portal she’d helped create, this door seemed to plunge those who entered down some hole. Finally, only Taytoch and the gargoyle were left.
“May I go last, Captain?” Ishmael asked politely.
Taytoch shot him a hard look. Georgie had once seen the enraged ifrit kick the smaller demon across a room. Despite this, Ishmael didn’t flinch.
“I wish to say goodbye,” he explained. “I promise I won’t linger.”
“You have two minutes,” Taytoch warned. “After that, I’m locking this puppy down.”
He jumped before she could laugh at his use of human slang.
“Ishmael,” she said, eyes stinging as she realized how much she would miss him.
The gargoyle held out gray hands to her.
Georgie had to crouch to take them. She’d never touched him like this before. Though his skin felt like granite, it was as warm as hers.
“Georgie,” the gargoyle said. “I have greatly enjoyed our association, even though—a time or two—you made me sad I wasn’t born to be good.”
“I hope this doesn’t insult you, but to me, you’re plenty good enough.”
Ishmael’s glasses flashed as he shook his head in amusement. He squeezed her hands once and then let go.
“Remember me,” he called, leaping into the manhole like the others.
As soon as he disappeared, the silver cover resealed itself. Interestingly, Luna’s moon symbol shifted to an intertwined hammer and measuring tape.
Georgie stood up and wiped her cheeks. “I guess that’s that,” she said through the lump in her throat.
Connor, who always understood what she was feeling, pulled her against his side. “Ishmael will remember you too,” he said.
~
UNTIL HE’D TRAVELED to Georgie’s world, the only humans Iksander knew were those he’d watched on pirated TV shows. Though the sultan wasn’t as jumpy as an ifrit, watching Georgie do magic was unnerving. Seeing the symbol the universe apparently considered hers appear on the portal cover made him uneasier still. He supposed a human would have felt the same in proximity to a wolf.
Even if the beast were friendly, you knew it could eat you.
He was pinching his lower lip when the angel cleared his throat and caught his attention. Connor was shoving empty brass amphorae back into the carrying sacks.
“Help me with these?” he asked, flashing his habitual sunny grin. “It’s cold out here, and these bags are too heavy for Georgie to lug up that slope in addition to her backpack.”
“Of course.” Iksander flushed over needing the reminder. As a rule, sultans weren’t packhorses. They were, however, supposed to look out for females.
“Can we shelter in the power station?” Georgie asked, seeming not to have noticed his lapse of manners. “There won’t be wards against intruders?”
“There might be,” Iksander said, “but I doubt they’ll have been set by Luna. Fortunately, I’m not such a magical dolt I can’t get through them.”
He hadn’t intended to make her laugh, but he didn’t mind that she did. Georgie’s resemblance to his dead wife was eerie, but her laugh was one of the things that didn’t remind him of Najat. Najat had laughed like a princess, cultivated and delightful. Georgie, he noticed, had a tendency to snort.
He didn’t realize he was smiling until they’d surmounted the slope again.
That sobered him. Indulging his attraction to the human wasn’t a smart idea. For one thing, she was a human. For another, she and the angel were very much together. No mere djinn could compete with a gorgeous, infinitely empathetic celestial being—no matter how diminished the angel’s original splendor was by being in a body. Iksander ordered himself to keep his mind on locating the entrance to the abandoned plant.
To his relief, though the curving outer wall seemed featureless, the door wasn’t difficult to locate. Doing the simple spell that opened it felt good. Iksander had lost his magic when he journeyed to Georgie’s world. Here in the djinn dimension, it was returning—like a muscle that had been starved of the right vitamins.
“Cool,” Georgie said as the formerly hidden entrance appeared and swung open.
“Wait just a moment,” Iksander cautioned before she could step inside.
He entered the stygian blackness first. The air was musty, the scent of old magic stale. He reached out with his wakening senses. A code phrase floated just out of reach, the key to turn on what was left of the building’s juice. He relaxed, closed his eyes, and let the words come to him.
“Fiat lux,” he said firmly.
A clank sounded, as if a heavy lever had been shoved up nearby. Soft blue light filled the space before him. He’d stepped into a small lobby. A large mural carved of milky amber and depicting power plant staff enlivened the wall ahead. WORK MAKES THE HUMBLEST NOBLE, the gold-leafed motto atop it said.
“That’s a nice piece,” Georgie said, coming to stand beside him. “Like one of those WPA paintings you see in 1930s post offices. What language is that above it? I don’t recognize those letters.”
The question startled him. “I forgot you’re not able to translate yet. Give me your hand. I think I can share some magic you’ll find useful.”
She tugged off her glove and complied. Her palm was firm from her human occupation of tearing supposed treasures from old buildings.
“Close your eyes,” he said, ignoring the odd frisson her slight calluses inspired. “Breathe in and out slowly.” He sent energy from his hand to hers, willing it to convey the common djinn gift for absorbing knowledge from the ethers. Georgie’s forehead puckered and then relaxed. “Now look at the sign again.”
“Oh!” she said with a little jump. “It makes sense now! Do Connor too. That’s so handy.”
Startled by the request, Iksander glanced at the angel and tried not to look reluctant. Both his companions would benefit from understanding the world around them. Connor shook his head with a gentle smile. “I can read the words already. Djinn and angels must share some abilities.”
“Well, I’m excited,” Georgie said as she withdrew her hand from Iksander’s. “Will I be able to read everything now? And understand people when they speak?”
“You should be able to. The talent usually stays active once it kicks in. Djinn will be able to comprehend what you say as well.”
“That’s awesome,” she said. “Thank you.”
Her lavender eyes were bright, her soft cheeks flushed from their time outside. Her ugly knit cap hid the tufts of her colorful pale red and yellow hair. The rough black wool should have made her less attractive. Instead, the sultan had to tear his gaze from her shining face. “We should try to find the workers’ break room. If we’re lucky, it will have running water. Maybe places to sleep as well.”
“Fingers crossed,” she responded.
Though he tried to fight it, her cheerful mood lightened his.
Since the building was round, it probably didn’t matter which way they searched. Choosing one of the two offshoot corridors at random, Iksander led his companions in. Tiny blue spell lights, their illumination dim but steady, shone from the upper margin of the walls. There wasn’t much to see; the power plant had minimal decoration, but Georgie and Connor were wide-eyed.
The cleaning charms were functional. Their footfalls echoed off spotless black onyx floors.
“What’s that room up ahead?” Georgie asked. She rubbed her arms, probably sensitive to the increase in random magic radiating into the passage.
The plaque beside the entry said DISTRICT 9—which wouldn’t mean much to her even translated.
“Probably a distribution chamber. Do you want to go in and see?”
“Yes, please,” she said and grinned.
Just barely, he avoided bowing to her after opening the door.
“Ooh,” she breathed, turning around to take in the equipment. “It’s so pretty!”
To him, the machinery that lined the room was unremarkable. Naturally, the banks of levers and gauges were detailed with precious metals and backed in mother of pearl. No djinni wanted to labor among squalor. Special non-tarnishing brass cages protected the handful of transformers from accidental bumps. The cages were decorative, he supposed, but nothing to write home about.
Georgie crouched interestedly in front of one. “Is that boulder thing inside here a big piece of quartz?”
“It’s an uncut diamond.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he contradicted, a smile tugging unavoidably at his lips. “Diamonds work better for converting magic into a form that will travel along the city’s conduits.”
“I assumed a power plant meant electricity.”
“No, Luna’s city runs on magic—as does mine.”
“Huh.” Georgie used the cage to push to her feet. “How is the magic generated?”
“Some is drawn naturally from the ground. Ley lines run beneath all djinn territories. In a city, because the population is concentrated and the need for power greater, that resource is supplemented by conscripted workers. People can channel energy faster than what rises naturally.”
“Conscripted,” Connor repeated, the idea seeming to trouble him. “The djinn are forced to work?”
Was the angel looking to judge him? Georgie’s lover hadn’t up till now, but perhaps the natural tendency of his species was waking up. Iksander willed his face to remain impassive.
“It’s considered a public duty. Performed for the public good. So those who have less magic can still enjoy its benefits. Thanks to the Draw, the burden of powering things like streetlights and civic buildings is shared out. I’m not sure how Luna organized the process but, generally, a new group of workers is rotated in each week. You can buy your way out of serving, but most people don’t complain. The system’s arranged so no one has to come more than once a year. They’re treated well while they’re here. Good food. Special entertainments. Some citizens look at it as a holiday from routine.”
Connor nodded, his celestial blue eyes considering him calmly. Sometimes the angel seemed slightly simple. Other times, like now, Iksander wondered if he were capable of comprehending how deep Connor was.
“What are these dials for?” Georgie asked, wandering to a wall of them.
With a trace of relief, the sultan shifted his attention. “I believe they control rates of flow to the different District 9 neighborhoods.”
“Hm.” Georgie tapped the crystal cover that shielded a motionless needle. “What do you suppose makes the new plant in Hodensk more efficient?”
She’d been paying attention when Taytoch mentioned that. “I don’t know. Less waste in the refining process? As you can tell, there’s some leakage of magic here.”
“I do feel that,” she said, flashing a brilliant smile. “I got goosebumps when we approached the door.”
Her delight did uncomfortable things to his blood pressure. “Why don’t we continue to the break room? I expect all of us are ready to set down our burdens.”
~
GEORGIE COULDN’T HELP being excited. Having an abandoned building all to themselves was fun. She bounded ahead of the men so she could read the door signs first. Before turning legible, the letters gave a funny shiver she wasn’t tired of yet.
If she’d been able to do this in high school French, she’d never have gotten that annoying C minus.
“This is it!” she called, pointing excitedly at a silver and black plaque. “It says EMPLOYEE LOUNGE.”
Connor laughed as he caught up to her. “Shall I open it?” he asked the sultan.
“It should be safe,” Iksander conceded. “I sense no dangerous equipment.”
Connor twisted the knob and pushed, letting Georgie have the honor of going first. She went inside and gasped. “Holy smokes.”
Shrugging out of her backpack, she let it drop absently. She’d expected gym style lockers and plastic furniture. Maybe a sink and coffee station if their luck held. There were lockers here, but they were polished mahogany. Plush velvet floor cushions offered seating at a dozen low tables. The tables were spread out around the space—beautiful Turkish brass-topped creations groups of people could eat around. An intricate mosaic wall fountain looked like it spouted hot and cold water.
“Wow,” Connor said, for once as gobsmacked as she was.
Georgie supposed Iksander was used to such luxuries. His reaction was practical.
“Water’s on,” he announced, having gone to test the spigots. “The kitchen must be in here.” He opened another door and leaned in. “Good. They left some miniaturized stores behind. Those things aren’t fancy, but we won’t starve.”
Miniaturized stores, Georgie mouthed, pretty sure discovering what the term meant would entertain her. Getting into the spirit of exploration, Connor peeked into another adjoining room.
His eyes danced as he turned back to her. “Bathroom,” he said, his emphasis telling her she had to see for herself.
“Oh. My. God,” she breathed when she did. The bathroom had a trio of gold-veined marble tubs the size of small swimming pools. Empty of water at the moment, the decoration that adorned their rims was eye-poppingly opulent.
COLD, HOT, STEAM the silver lettering at their far ends announced.
“The men’s bath is on the other side,” Iksander informed them.
“Of course it is,” Georgie said faintly.
“The other facilities are through that arch.”
“Only a fool would doubt it,” she replied.
Her tone must have sounded dry. “I know you two are used to showers,” he huffed, “but I promise you baths work fine.”
Georgie burst out laughing. “We know they do. This place is way more than we expected. We thought we’d be roughing it.”
“I told you conscripts are treated well.”
“We’re happy,” she assured him. “And impressed.”
He continued to frown slightly, his gaze cutting to Connor.
“Extremely impressed,” Connor seconded.
The sultan didn’t seem to like that his prickliness amused them.
~
AS A RULE, CONNOR WASN’T a worrier. Though aware Iksander’s stiffness was a sign of emotional strain, he decided to let him be. Connor’s instincts would prod him to address it if that were desirable. Iksander wasn’t too upset, obviously. He had no trouble spelling the tiny preserved foodstuffs back to their original size.
When he reconstituted the dishes atop the table, their contents steamed fragrantly.
“That’s amazing!” Georgie exclaimed. “It’s like they’re fresh out of the oven.”
Georgie’s praise pleased the sultan. Though his mouth didn’t smile, his face relaxed. Relaxed or stiff, he was beautiful. Beneath his formal manners, Iksander’s emotions were very much alive.
Connor liked that. His longing to better understand others’ passions, and to experience them himself, was a big part of what had motivated him to embody.
Georgie patted her stomach once she was full. “That food was so good I don’t know if I should offer, but I shoved some apples in my backpack.”
“I would like one,” Iksander said. “Black Bear’s apples were very fine.”
“Great.” She jumped up to dig one out. She tossed the fruit to Iksander, who caught it despite his surprise. When she offered to pitch another to Connor, he shook his head and smiled. With an air of decision, Georgie put her hands on her waist. “Okay then. I know it’s wasteful, but I can’t resist. I’m going to fill up one of those huge bathtubs.”
“I will help,” Connor volunteered. He rose from the cushion, abruptly eager to be alone with her. Making love to Georgie was a definite plus to being physical, and both he and she enjoyed getting intimate. With everything that had been going on, they’d abstained the previous night. Because of this, his appetite was stronger than normal.
Georgie must have guessed—or perhaps she felt the same. Though she pressed her lips together and bent her head, he could tell she was smiling.
“That’d be good,” she said. “You can make sure I don’t boil myself by mistake.”
The sultan shifted with concern at her words. “If you need instructions to work the apparatus—”
“We’ll manage,” Georgie assured him, her twinkling eyes cutting to Connor. “Between the two of us.”
Connor’s blood tingled deliciously at the look. It kept tingling as they found the bank of taps that turned on the hot pool’s water. With a single turn of the spigot, ten powerful spouts began roaring into the large basin.
“That won’t take long,” Georgie predicted.
“It better not,” Connor said. “It’s been a while since we were alone.”
Georgie smiled and peeled off her stretchy shirt.
Few would have called her girly. Her red hair was short and choppy, the bits she’d dyed yellow spiking out jauntily. The work she did built lean muscle, a trait the tropical sleeve tattoo on her arm pointed up. She was spirited and bold and marched to her own drumbeat. Connor had been her companion, with a body and without, for more than five years now. In that time, he’d seen her in a dress exactly twice. Despite this, to him, she was a picture of female beauty. Her firmness, her curves, even the occasional awkwardness of her movements always struck him as perfect.
Anticipating pleasures to come, his male organ thickened strongly as she disrobed. She’d removed her boots before sitting down to dinner. Now she undid the front of her leather pants and slid them down her legs.
“You are so easy,” she teased, noting how his breathing quickened in reaction.
He couldn’t deny it but didn’t think she minded. “Let me take off the rest, Georgie.”
She presented her back to him. Connor liked her from this angle too. Her spine was silk to stroke with his fingertips, her round bottom squeezable. He gave in to both temptations, then kissed the bend of her neck while undoing her bra hooks. She shivered as he cupped her soft bare breasts. Though his hands were big enough to engulf them, he preferred letting her sharpened nipples peek out through his fingers.
She shivered a second time as he rubbed his large erection over her panties.
“Who’s easy now?” he whispered.
She tried to turn and kiss him, but his arms held her where she was. He couldn’t explain why he liked that. Free will—especially Georgie’s—was sacred to him. There was just something about exerting a hint of force that inspired an added wallop of arousal. Fortunately, after all their time together, Georgie trusted him not to overdo.
Still holding her close against him, he slid his hand down the front of her underwear. She gasped as his longest finger curved into her pussy.
“You’re very wet,” he said, stating the obvious. “That wasn’t hard at all.”
She was also hot, wriggling and making swallowed noises as he rubbed gently in and out. Hearing her whimper was too exciting. He had to growl in response. Steam formed clouds in the room around them, the continued roar of the water enclosing them in a private world. The magic of the djinn dimension, heavier than the magic on Georgie’s plane, prickled into him through his clothes. The energy was affecting him, making him feel more powerful but less in control.
Connor pressed his teeth to her shoulder, his cock so stiff now it was painful.
Afraid of what he might do, he released his hold on her.
She turned, her lilac eyes gleaming with a light he hadn’t seen in them before. She tugged open the button at his jeans’ waist, carefully drew the zipper around his bulge, and reached in to fondle him.
His vision blurred, delight zinging through him at the movement of her fingers along his rigid shaft. The pad of her thumb swirled a drop of wetness around the swollen head. His penis jerked, and she let go of him.
“Lean down,” she said. “You’re too tall, and I want to pull off your shirt.”
He obeyed her, loving the strength and flexibility of his muscles as much as her touch on them. His body was a blessing because it pleased both of them. Seeming to admire the distance her hands had to travel, she caressed his shoulders and down his chest. Skipping his abdomen, she knelt to drag down his jeans. She looked up his body grinning as his erection sprang free of its constraint. He held his breath. Lately, she’d been sucking his cock more often, claiming she let him spoil her more than she ought to. Though Connor was by nature a giver, he was beginning to appreciate her concept of turnabout.
Perhaps to tease his expectations, she nuzzled his balls lightly.
“Georgie,” he said.
She strafed her nails through the hair on his tensing thighs. Connor curled his hands into fists, not wanting to grab her head. With a look of mischief, she tipped down his throbbing length. Her warm breath washed over him.
“You’re beautiful even here,” she murmured. She kissed his penis gently, her thumb rubbing the ridge on its thick underside. He couldn’t help it. His hands rose to clasp her ears lightly.
She sucked him then—slowly down and slowly up. He wasn’t sure if his hands were following her motions or guiding them. Maybe the latter. She certainly was doing what he liked, exactly where he wanted her to do it. Her plush lips tightened, her wet tongue rubbing the sweet spot beneath his glans. His sensations heightened. She was dragging him to the verge of coming faster than he expected. A moment later, she did something she hadn’t tried on him before, twisting her head as she sucked upward. It felt amazing, but his chest rumbled out a small protest.
She let his crown pop free, her right hand wrapping him. “Too much?”
Her hint of unsureness tugged his heart. Didn’t she know everything she did was wonderful to him?
“Too good,” he said, stroking her soft hair behind her ear. “Come into the pool. I want to make love to you.”
She rose, then bent one more time to take off her panties.
“Almost forgot those,” she laughed.
He smiled back at her. Her body was so lovely, so her in all its variations of russet and pink and cream. Her knees were slightly knobby, her strong shoulders still capable of hunching with shyness. He squeezed the hand that was his favorite in the world to hold.
“This is my Eden,” he said. “You and I naked together.”
He could tell his words pleased her. They turned hand in hand to the pool, which was roiling and nearly full. Connor no longer had full angelic powers. He’d relinquished them along with a piece of his original spirit in order to stay on the same plane as Georgie. Though he didn’t regret the sacrifice, the abilities he had now were less. Curious to see if they’d work in the djinn dimension, he raised his palm toward the roaring spouts.
“Cease, please,” he requested.
His energy stretched like rubber, not as effortless as before but still functioning. The taps shut off after one more heartbeat.
Seeming not to notice the delay, Georgie laughed. “You’re so polite. I have to work up my will to make things happen.”
He kissed her. “May I have my will with you now?”
She smiled and nodded, so he lifted her off her feet. That was fun. He liked the strength of his big body. Her thighs came around his waist, just where he wanted them. He watched her eyes glaze over as he pushed slowly, lengthily into her.
He couldn’t tell who was pulsing harder by the time he’d forged fully in.
“Wow,” she said, her neck lolling briefly as his hold tightened on her bottom. When her head came back up her cheeks had flushed darker. “I wanted you inside me more than I realized.”
Her words excited him, the spike in his arousal almost overwhelming him. He clenched his molars to rein in his reactions. Both of them enjoyed sex more when it didn’t end too fast. He reached for the scrolled bronze rail that led down the pool’s marble steps.
“Hold on,” he advised. Georgie clutched his shoulders as he went down the treads. Each movement drove his cock deliciously deeper into her hot softness. She wriggled and gasped, and steaming wavelets rose up his legs.
Finally, they were far enough in for the water to support her.
Georgie’s back arched seductively.
“Don’t thrust,” he said, sensing she was preparing to.
“No?”
He shook his head. “Just rock. I don’t want all your lovely wetness to wash away.”
Her lips curved with mischief, her hands sliding over his back muscles. “Not thrusting might be difficult for me. Maybe you’d better control my movements.”
“Me?”
“Yes, please. I’d like to be entirely at your mercy.”
She knew about his fetish for control. They’d explored it before a bit. Now she leaned back, slowly, until her back floated on the pool’s surface. The position changed the pressure of her pussy around his shaft, bending his very stiff, very engorged organ more horizontal than it otherwise would have gone. He felt unusually aware of his size and hardness.
It went without saying this wound him up as well.
Georgie’s arms butterflied through the currents, her breasts bobbing as the water eddied around her curves. Connor guessed she noticed he was mesmerized by the view. When his gaze finally reached her face, the wings of her eyebrows wagged.
“Good sightlines?”
“The best,” he confirmed huskily.
His hands had locked around her hips. Evidently agreeable to this, Georgie gripped one of his forearms. Satisfied she was secure, Connor started rolling his pelvis.
Her nails pricked him as she reacted, pleasure immediately hitting both of them. He moved by inches, wishing he could thrust fully in and out but reveling in the depth of his presence inside her. Her body tightened, the walls of her pussy drawing hard. With both thumbs he pushed her clitoris against the shove and pull of his rigid shaft.
She cried out just loudly enough for the sound to reach his ears. They could come in seconds . . . if that were their preference.
Don’t ask permission, he thought. That isn’t what she wants tonight.
“Don’t go over yet,” he said gutturally.
Her eyes flew open, wide with surprise. Despite how close they were, despite the powerful instincts that fought against stopping, he pulled her off his cock. He carried her like a groom would a bride, through the water to the steps. There he set her down, standing her on the second tread from the bottom. Her back was to him, exactly as he wished. He took her right hand and wrapped its fingers around the rail.
Though he knew she must be curious, he didn’t explain himself.
“Bend forward,” he ordered. “Spread your legs.”
She obeyed, her gorgeous bottom above the waves, her pink pussy bared to him. Her skin shone with wetness—and from more than the steamy pool.
“Brace your other hand on the edge.”
A tremor shook her as she complied. She turned her head to look back at him. She didn’t speak. Connor thrilled deep inside at the way she bit her lip.
“Good,” he complimented. “Tonight, you give no instructions. Tonight, you take whatever I wish to do to you silently.”
What he wished had occurred to him before, but he’d never indulged it. Giving in, he smacked her lush little rump hard enough to make a noise. Her gasp was sharp, but she didn’t let out a cry. He smacked her other cheek and then the first again. She wriggled and bit her lip harder. That delighted him as much as the impact of his palm on resilient skin. He dropped another spank against her, and another. Excitement ran up his arm from the brisk collisions. The slightest sign he was hurting her would stopped him. Instead, her head arched backward.
Her other cheeks were red with arousal.
“Silence,” he reminded.
He smoothed the flesh he’d struck, savoring the longing way she squirmed. He didn’t want her to beg him. He wanted her to wish she could.
When he smoothed his thumbs through the silky wetness that slicked her folds, a soft sound broke in her throat.
That was a plea he could not resist.
“Shh,” he said, half soothing and half command. He bent his larger body over hers, his hands running up her belly until he cupped her breasts. He didn’t take her immediately—though every particle of his being craved to be in her. Instead, he caressed the swaying globes, teasing himself and her by tugging her nipples. Fondling her was very arousing. Knowing his restraint wouldn’t last much longer, he dragged his lips along her shoulder and to her ear. “No moaning when I enter, no matter how good it feels. We wouldn’t want to disturb Iksander.”
Georgie’s breath rushed out at him mentioning the other man. Did she think Connor hadn’t noticed the sultan was attracted to her? Did she perhaps wonder if he minded? He didn’t mind, as it happened. Somewhat to his surprise, he found the situation . . . interesting.
But he wasn’t ready to think about that now. Before either of them could entertain more questions, he grasped his throbbing erection, set its head against her entry, and plunged assertively into her.
Georgie almost came from the single thrust. Connor’s mood was different from what she was used to. Less controlled. Maybe even dangerous. Her lover felt huge inside her, barely allowing her to adjust to his penetration before he withdrew and drove in again. She arched her neck and fought against crying out. His pace was perfect, his long, steady motions heavenly. She loved when he thrust in and out full length. She would have groaned, but he was right about showing consideration to Iksander.
Despite her pleasure, her brow furrowed. Had there been something un-Connor-like in his tone when he said they shouldn’t disturb the other man? Had he, truth be told, sounded arch?
He drove the thought from her head with his next inward pump. She needed both arms to brace for the strength he used—not that she was complaining. He was eager tonight, so long and hard he knocked places inside her pussy she hadn’t known he could reach. The pressure felt strange but good, as if a different man were taking her. Connor was the only partner she’d ever had. She’d never thought of that as missing out. He wasn’t simply her best friend, he was also a great lover.
Without warning, he shifted angles, the head of his cock now running over some nerve that shot fireworks out the tip of her clitoris. Her pussy flooded as pleasure overwhelmed her, and she groaned helplessly.
“Shush,” he ordered, the scold huffing with excitement. “No talking!”
He pinched her nipple for good measure, but all the little shock of pain accomplished was heightening her pleasure. She bowed her back to open more of herself to his extremely welcome activities.
“I’m in charge,” he growled, even as he accepted her invitation to plunder.
Water churned around them, hopefully masking the actual noises of lovemaking. Masked or not, Georgie swore she wouldn’t groan again. Determined to keep the promise, she gripped the rail for dear life. The sound of Connor’s pelvis slapping her bottom reminded her of his quick spanking. Was he remembering it too? Was the thought titillating him? His cock swelled inside her, and she began mewling. This time he didn’t scold. He was too busy humping her crazily. She was on the edge, tightening, aching, genuinely at his mercy. Connor grunted and slammed as deep as he could go.
She started coming even before he found her clit with three fingers and shimmied the hood firmly. Driven straight to stratospheric pleasure, her pussy contracted rhythmically.
This was what he’d been waiting for. He let out a low approving sound as he poured out his own climax. Heat burst within her—his orgasm pulsing out.
Had she ever felt that so distinctly?
The glow that expanded through her limbs made thinking difficult. Connor kissed her shoulder, pulled gently from her body, and tugged her onto her back to float. Hand in hand, utterly limp and peaceful, they let the hot water cradle them. After a few blissful minutes, Georgie noticed an intricate mosaic sparkling on the high ceiling. The colorful tiles portrayed a graceful female genie smoking out of a golden lamp. Her upper body was solid, her lower a swirl of smoke. The steam that wafted from the pool made it appear as if she too floated.
“We really aren’t in Black Bear anymore,” Georgie said.
“Mm,” was Connor’s sleepy reaction.
She laughed. “I bet being here isn’t that strange to you. You’ve already moved from one dimension to another.”
“Seeing a new one still intrigues me. I’m looking forward to exploring more of Iksander’s world with you.”
“Do you suppose the sultan can turn to smoke like that djinniya?”
“I’d be surprised if he couldn’t,” Connor said serenely.
~
DJINN HAD PERFECTLY good hearing. In truth, the ears of Iksander’s people were sharper than humans’. Connor’s caution to Georgie notwithstanding, he’d heard the pair just fine over the splashing water—the churn of which had told a clear story.
He’d known what they intended when they entered the bath, of course. They were young and healthy and why wouldn’t they like a lot of sex? That the angel had spanked Georgie was the sole surprise. Iksander hadn’t thought this would interest a divine being.
Imagining what else might interest Connor was better avoided.
Iksander wasn't a monk regarding sex. As the leader of the Glorious City and then the loving spouse of a passionate wife, he’d never been short of outlets for his desires. Realizing Georgie and the angel were engaged in the carnal act caused his body to respond. His annoyingly vigorous erection made the coarse human jeans he wore less comfortable than ever.
His inability to do anything about it made him grumpy, to say the least.
He took his mind off the issue by rearranging the furniture in the dining lounge. They’d found no bunkroom in the derelict power plant—though there might be one somewhere. It didn’t matter. The seating cushions could serve as beds once he’d made space for them and spelled them together.
The distraction must have been successful. The couple’s return caught him unaware. He spun, noting the matching black silk robes that clad their now-sated bodies. The words NEVA DISTRICT POWER—stitched in silver embroidery—adorned each left lapel.
“Oh,” Georgie said, one hand rising to her neck where the robe bared her collarbones. “You moved the tables against the walls.”
“Yes.” He was unable to sound anything but stiff. “I thought the cushions would work as beds.”
“Of course.”
Georgie spoke as if she weren’t really listening. Was she thinking about having sex with the angel again already? Was that why her finger stroked the little hollow at the base of her throat? Had Connor kissed her there? No doubt her flesh was smooth. Firm, as well. She wore nothing beneath the company robe. The curves of her body—breasts, belly, hips—shaped the black silk enticingly.
Iksander wrenched his gaze away. “I shall sleep in the men’s bath. That way we all can have privacy.”
“Don’t do that,” Connor said, jerking Georgie and Iksander’s eyes to him.
A hint of rose had stained Georgie’s cheeks, but the angel’s countenance was serene.
“Don’t?” Iksander repeated, not understanding his objection.
“This is a strange world for me and Georgie. If something unexpected happens, we might need you near to explain.”
The men’s bathing chamber was hardly distant—certainly no more so than the room they’d just emerged from. Temporarily speechless, Iksander gaped at the angel’s expression. He saw no signs of hidden agendas. Connor was smiling pleasantly, his sky blue eyes innocent.
“Perhaps we should stick together,” Georgie said unsurely.
Iksander knew this was silly. Nothing was going to happen. No one even knew they were here. He should say so. Spending the night near these two would only inspire discomfort.
Georgie’s wistful lavender eyes held his. However much their color reminded him of his wife, he knew the soul behind them was different. Georgie had her own independence, her own vulnerabilities. Did he want her to fear her surroundings even if the fear was illogical? He’d survived a night on the floor in her apartment. Wouldn’t he survive this too?
“As you wish,” he said, the surrender gruff. “I suppose there’s room here for all of us.”
“Oh good,” Georgie said. “You can have Connor’s sleeping bag. He and I will unzip mine and share.”
~
THOUGH THE LAST FEW days had been chaotic, Georgie had no trouble dropping off. The cushion-mattresses Iksander spelled together were seamlessly cushy. Connor lay warm and strong beside her, as he had every night for years. He was correct about the sultan’s presence being reassuring. Knowing the djinni was only feet away made her feel doubly protected.
She relaxed within minutes and went under.
The dreams she had were a jumble that came and went like an old film reel. In one she was back at Kind Shepherd, the group foster home Luna had plucked her out of at sixteen—a lucky break, she’d thought at the time. In the dream, her black cat Titus rescued her instead. A cat can be my guardian, she insisted to anyone who’d listen. After that, she was on a train, clickety-clacking home from the University of Virginia—a campus she’d never set foot on in her life. Her clothing was unfamiliar, her hair long like a goody-goody’s and smoothed back by a strange headband. Iksander will pick me up at the station, her dreaming mind informed her. I’ll be in the real timeline then. The sultan and I will fall in love just like we’re supposed to.
That wasn’t right, though. Connor was her soulmate. He was the man she loved. Water splashed around her, male hands stroking up and down her body. The strokes felt good, except suddenly the water was too hot. Boiling, really, causing fat red blisters to swell up on her skin. She couldn’t breathe. Something heavy was holding her underwater, as if chains anchored her to concrete blocks. She had to get free. She didn’t want to die, but her lungs were desperate for oxygen. She opened her mouth in a helpless gasp, and sun-hot fluid scalded her from within.
Georgie jerked and woke up coughing.
For a second, she thought she’d choke on her own panic.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Connor said, helping her to sit up. “Breathe, Georgie. Everything’s all right.”
His soothing voice helped her to calm down. “Jeesh,” she said as her lungs began functioning again. “I must have squirmed into a weird position and accidentally closed my windpipe.”
A rustling sound and a curse told her Iksander was trying to sit up in his unfamiliar zipped sleeping bag. “What’s wrong? Is someone attacking?”
Georgie laughed in embarrassment. “Sorry. Everything’s fine. I had a nightmare that woke me up.”
“A nightmare.” His tone made it sound as if this were suspicious.
“Just a bad dream. Don’t djinn have those too?”
They’d left the door to bathing chamber cracked, and a few lights were on in there. Though she couldn’t see the color of Iksander’s eyes, the stare he pinned her with was steady. “Of course we have dreams, but they’re not always meaningless.”
Georgie didn’t want to discuss everywhere her subconscious had wandered. “I don’t think mine meant anything. I just dreamed the water in the pool was too hot.”
“You were choking.”
“In the dream. I’m perfectly okay now.”
“I don’t think so. You’re sweating all over.”
“That happens sometimes when people have nightmares.”
Iksander wasn’t paying attention. Letting out an impatient huff, he leaned out and gripped the edge of her and Connor’s mattress, using their greater weight as leverage to slide his own nearer.
“Lie down again,” he ordered. “I’ll show you how djinn set a protection charm.”
She opened her mouth to argue then realized this might be interesting.
“Turn your back to me,” he specified.
Once she’d wriggled into position, he flattened his hand between her shoulder blades. The silk that covered her was thin. The warmth of his palm bleeding through the material stirred an unavoidable sense of him as a man.
She’d already squeezed her knees together before she warned herself to ignore the slight tingle.
“Okay.” The sultan seemed to think. “Do you know the Lord’s Prayer?”
“Sure. That’s the ‘Our Father, which art in Heaven’ one. I should tell you, though, I’m not observant like when I was a kid.”
“That doesn’t matter. You have a connection to the verse, on top of which countless people have repeated those lines with faith. Prayers people believe in make good material for spells. If you’ve forgotten the words, you can repeat them after me.”
She remembered, mostly. Self-consciously, she recited them.
“Good,” Iksander said. “One more time.”
This time, she didn’t stumble. As the prayer left her lips, she had the distinct impression the words marched on tiny bumblebee feet onto her back. One by one, they formed a circle around where his hand was pressed. In her mind’s eye, the letters glowed.
“Hear me,” Iksander said after she uttered the last Amen. “In the name of the Creator, safeguard this woman’s dreams. None shall reach her against Thy will, nor do any but good to her. As Thou wish, so shall it be.”
He spoke quietly but firmly. As he did, the word-circle warmed—sure sign he was charging it with his personal energy. The process tickled, but she tried not to squirm.
Contrary to her expectation, he didn’t remove his touch when he stopped speaking. “I’ll leave my hand here a moment, to make sure the spell will hold.”
Curious, Connor craned around her shoulder to see what the sultan had accomplished. “Ah,” he said. “It’s a tattoo drawn in light. Your magic is very nice, Iksander. Very clean and clear. Thank you for using it to protect Georgie.”
“It is a trifle,” Iksander said formally. “My soul rejoices to be of assistance.”
Though his words were pretty, he spoke with the stiffness Connor especially seemed to bring out in him. Georgie wondered if he resented Connor’s assumption that he had the right to judge Iksander’s skill. Surely the djinni didn’t dispute the angel’s creds. Then again, maybe that was the problem.
With his hand still on her, she closed her eyes. As Connor lay back down beside her, a sleepy question rose in her mind.
Why did Iksander think someone was trying to reach her in her dreams?