Chapter Fourteen

Before Anjeline felt the rub, she sensed Rebel’s aura.

The weight of it wrapped around the vase, and a heartbeat filled her core with the pulse in Rebel’s fingertips. Able to feel the touch of will still burning from the wish cast in the basement. And it baffled Anjeline. She could tell much from someone’s wish. Their words. Most thought theirs through, counting out each one carefully, while others had started wars that killed nations before another wish could end it. But of all the words, all the wishes Rebel could’ve cast, to be powerful, to possess magic of her own…she hadn’t. She’d merely wished for their safety. Never had Anjeline experienced a will as strong as hers. Well, not since you, Solomon.

And as the rub came, heat rose in her core, shivering up her spine. Answering to the call, she coiled into smoke, slithered out of the vase’s opening, and reshaped into a girl.

Now she met the enchanted faces of two thieves.

Specs of silver danced in Rebel’s wonder-filled eyes, as they had the first time Anjeline emerged. Almost endearing. “God-light of every color?” she repeated smugly.

“Oh, hush.” Rebel folded her arms, but appeared flushed. There was something quite satisfying in teasing her, seeing what reaction would come.

The other thief’s face slackened in awe, then he let out a howl of laughter. “I simply don’t believe it.” He circled Anjeline and his foxlike gaze cruised her figure. “Aren’t you something,” he purred, touching her hair.

“Hands off, fox.” Anjeline swatted him away.

Rebel’s eyebrows inched closer together, as if they were daggers. “She’s not an object you can steal, Jax.”

Even so, Anjeline knew putting a shiny treasure not meant to be stolen before a thief could be a particular kind of cruelty. Jaxon sat against his desk, stockpiled with illegal paraphernalia, and stared at her, blinking occasionally. “She’s a wish granting genie, you say?”

Her insides smoldered. “Jinni.”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“No.” Rebel shook her head.

“It’s not that hard to pronounce.” Anjeline canted her chin.

The fox’s eyes fluttered from Rebel to her, attempting to wake himself up from some fantasy he probably thought he was having. He slowly reached for the vase. “May I examine—”

If her scowl could kill, he would be gasping his last breath.

Rebel chuckled but said, “Don’t worry, her glare isn’t lethal.”

“At least not that you know of.” His grin glowed prettily under the lamplight, striking in a way which must have gotten him out of countless conflicts.

Jabbering noises drifted from outside the club and for an instant, Anjeline was reminded of her own Jinn tribe, a mishmash of ifrits and marids. Her kin, Sinvad, birthed from the same breath of fire, used to tease her in the same manner, in his constant brotherliness. Until things changed and I befriended Solomon. She eyeballed this Jaxon with undisguised suspicion.

A hand brushed against hers. “It’s all right, Anjeline,” Rebel said.

At the use of her name, her essence tickled. It often did that when she was irritated, or vexed, or encountered anything that resembled feelings. She gave a nod, though releasing a huff of displeasure, a sign of how she disliked this plan. But for whatever reason, she’d agreed to it, ignoring Madrath’s rules. Never trust a human. Yet their three-day train jaunt had only confused her more about Rebel. Whereas she relied on logic and weighing truths, Rebel relied on feelings and intuition. They were opposites and yet entirely similar.

With a mournful look, Rebel handed him the vase. “Just—don’t rub it.”

The moment the vessel met his fingers, Anjeline grimaced, sensing the shift of possession transfer from her to him. The imprint of this Jaxon felt weak compared to Rebel’s, and she prayed he knew nothing of wishes.

Jaxon withdrew a magnifying glass from a desk drawer and then examined the vessel as desire took shape in his gaze. She knew how human hearts worked. Seen that look before in those who were ruined due to their hunger. Since she first entered this bandits club and laid eyes on him, her unease had grown. The fox was, after all, as much a criminal as those they’d been up against. And he was a bad omen waiting to happen.

She would not be charmed by a human. At least not that one. As his fingers ran over the vase, Anjeline’s irritation flared in a violent surge of heat. Her eyes turned predator-like, and she contorted and sharpened her features, trying her hardest to change but couldn’t. Rebel nudged her and whispered, “What’s wrong with your face?”

“I’m trying to shift into leopard form to bite his fingers off.” She scowled at Rebel ready to bite her in betrayal.

“Don’t leer at me because he’s curious. He’s the best bet we have right now.”

When had they become a we? “Another one who’ll have possession over my freedom?”

“A good one.” Rebel regarded her with a certain look—it was that look. She was beginning to learn Rebel’s little habits, like the way her eyes glinted for just a moment with that expression, one of gentleness. “Trust me,” she added. “Isn’t that the strongest virtue?”

“Actually, it’s gentleness.”

Rebel quirked one brow. “Gentle is my…”

“Middle name. I’m aware.” Anjeline’s lips curled.

She wasn’t sure when she’d joined together into a cohesive “we” with who Madrath would’ve called the enemy. Stranger things have happened than a Jinn allying oneself with a human, Sinvad used to say. Stranger things had happened than a Jinn allying oneself with not one, but two. She’d become so used to being controlled by those possessing her for their desires, that Rebel’s kindness confused her. A reminder that her belief from long ago was still there despite its damage. And if she was to stand a chance of breaking her imprisonment, she needed all the support she could get.

“Fine. But I don’t like him touching it. I prefer your touch,” Anjeline said, pretending not to know the deeper meaning her words held, but enjoyed the reaction it produced.

Rebel’s ears flushed pink. She fumbled forward, yanking the vessel back from the fox, and her life force hummed against it again. The human was too easy.

“So? Thoughts?” Rebel asked him.

With hands now empty, Jaxon’s face wrinkled in disappointment. “Let me get this straight—You, who knows nothing about magic, is trying to find a way to magically free her?”

“Frightening, isn’t it?” Rebel smiled.

“Isn’t it.” Anjeline muffled a laugh, amazed that a smile triggered something in her.

His curious gaze glanced between them. “Tell me about this magical offering. Have you already tried offering goods to the jinni? Hmm?” He bumped Rebel’s arm. “One doesn’t get the name Fingersmith for nothing.”

They cast him twin dirty looks.

“Magic isn’t a lock anyone can open,” Anjeline stated. “It must be specific.”

“Specific?” He leaned closer to her. “So how does your magic work? Clearly it’s not to aid those starving-to-death mortals in need?”

“Jax, she’s bound.” Rebel’s voice came out hard. “And you’re one to talk. Just looking around your club could unravel someone’s moral fiber.”

“Happiness doesn’t come cheap.” He shrugged. “But she claims better?”

Rebel pushed her boot into his shin to shut his muzzle, aware of the drama about to unfold. Irritation tugged at the corners of Anjeline’s mouth, and she imagined lunging across the room in cat form or choking him with her indestructible hair. But this was Rebel’s ally. Perhaps a brotherly figure, as Sinvad had been.

Instead, Anjeline clenched her smoky insides and said, “Jinn can only enter the Steelworld when summoned by a magician to do their bidding. For all your concern for those who suffer, where are your stolen items going? Surely not to them?”

Jaxon’s lips curled but he said nothing. He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled chin before looking to Rebel. “It’s still a bit strange. The better question is, now you possess the jinni, and yet you haven’t cast your wish?”

Hatred rippled along Anjeline’s skin for that word.

It must have shown because Rebel inched closer, giving him a wretched look. “We have a contract. Not to mention, wishes come with consequences,” she said, not informing him of the wish she’d cast in the basement.

Guilt nudged Anjeline, the tiny part of her softness left over from centuries before. Knowing the price yet to come must have scared Rebel too much to voice. A wish she wouldn’t have cast if it hadn’t been for Anjeline. For that, she thought, the price has to be less severe. Perhaps Rebel’s persistent stomachache?

“Consequences?” Jaxon’s pointed brows lifted. “Have you seen them come about? Because in the legends I know, the Jinn are tricky beings.”

“Then why am I the one captive? As Dalil of Prophets, I could scorch you to the bone if I wished.” Anjeline grinned, letting smoke stream between her lips, and he lurched back. Still, it is true. Rebel hadn’t yet seen the price of a wish play out, though it didn’t mean Anjeline had lied to her. At least not about that.

Jaxon hummed in question. “So we should put our trust in magic like dear Rebel? And when you’re a free jinni, will she receive her wish, or will you devour her heart—”

“Jax.” Rebel sighed. “Not helpful.”

“That’s the problem with your world.” Anjeline glanced through the slats of the office’s window at the young faces busy at work. “It thrives on the magical yet fails to trust magic exists, or that someone could offer something without wanting anything in return.” Her voice grew soft and low, as though for Rebel’s ears only.

A bitter laugh cracked the moment.

“Trusting doesn’t make it true.” Jaxon’s words were a dagger that went against the expression on his face. “Tell me, jinni, when my father was pounding his fist into my skull, where was magic then?”

Anjeline fell silent and looked to Rebel in regret. Countless stories she’d heard. Countless abuses she’d seen. Madrath never punished physically—Jinn didn’t need to. They destroyed from the inside out. Their disappointment and discipline could be felt in a single flare of eyes or a lash of fire tongue. Or one might be banished for eternity. But if there was one thing she knew about pain, it was that some Jinn were no different from the human monsters they claimed destroyed their own kind.

“Free will is what makes evil possible,” Rebel voiced, taking the pressure off Anjeline. The fox’s eyes narrowed, seeming to hate when she quoted her books at him. “You’re still alive. And your dear old pop is on the far side of metal bars. To me it looks like someone’s wish saved you.”

Jaxon appeared to ponder it but made no reply.

“A promise is a promise.” Rebel gave a nod. And as Anjeline met her eyes, a certain awareness surfaced between them, an unspoken agreement.

Then Rebel bumped his arm. “Are you in, or not? There must be someone who dabbles in magic among the traders you know and isn’t vile?”

“There may be traders we can talk to. Fair ones, who like to remain secret. But only after midnight.” He grinned with the sort of expression Anjeline felt didn’t quite fit their predicament. “First, you know the rule,” he said to Rebel. “You must earn a fox’s favor.”