Chapter Twenty-Two

If Madrath had asked her how one of the most powerful Jinn in existence could be trapped by a vile fish, Anjeline wasn’t sure of an answer. Once the mermaids carried the Siren out of the tunnel, she couldn’t move, unable to stop the wish being ripped from her core. Her insides smoldered in rage. She was tired of being a captive to her own magic.

As useless and helpless, Solomon, as the bound jinni I’ve become.

Now she could merely watch as the old mermaid, the guard of the treasures, locked the vase within a smaller cage. Trembles rocked the pen beside her own. Rebel inched closer to the bars, to her, and mouthed a single word: consequence? Anjeline shook her head. As she’d voiced before, some took more time to manifest than others. The moment the Siren had grasped the vessel, she’d felt the power shift from Rebel, now imprinted with a viler touch.

The Siren’s words were wrong. The virtues of mermaids didn’t exceed what Anjeline felt. She wanted to show them what the wish would bring, what their cowardice would do.

More trembles swayed the cage. Ice crystals had formed in Rebel’s hair like pearls against a sea of black, and her face had gone pale. Heat flourished in Anjeline’s heart of smoke, this time not in rage, but concern. She blew puffs of warm clouds toward Rebel, sensing her aura of pain. Her shoulder wound must have been throbbing again, her toes and fingers most likely going numb.

Then Rebel went rigid. She stood and glanced down at her chest as if there was something inside it she forgot. Anjeline squinted at her. Was she flirting at a time like this? But then Rebel tapped the pendant around her neck, mouthing another word: knife. The tiny knife she must have forgotten about, and what it surely could do.

For picking locks, no less.

The scheming expression on Rebel’s face nearly made Anjeline laugh. She watched as Rebel inched her hand to the pendant while her sights remained on the mermaid’s back in case she turned around. Rebel’s fingers slipped the pendant out from her shirt and over her head, fumbling in her hair, until she held it. Rebel grinned up at Anjeline and slid the mini knife from behind the locket. But her freezing fingers quivered, and the necklace fell.

It clattered against the bottom of the cage.

The old mermaid swirled around so fast her tail swatted against the water, sending a spray over them. “Won’t work, girly,” she said, her wrinkled grin staring them down. In a wave of her webbed fingers, Rebel’s pendant magically transferred to the mermaid’s hand. “You can call me Doris, since we’ll be seeing much of each other.”

Anjeline leaned against the cage in defeat. If the bars were a few more inches apart, she could’ve shifted into a feline and slipped out. Or turned to smoke. But thanks to her bindings, if she altered to spirit form, the vessel would only pull her back within. Keeping her under control. Then she’d be trapped in the vase.

She studied the wizened Doris, now noticing the resemblance the old mermaid had to Melusine. Not to mention the melody in her voice. This mermaid wasn’t any mere cold-blooded creature. She had the gift of song, too. “The Siren’s your daughter?”

Doris’s head twitched. “Some days, I question it.”

“You have my condolences,” Rebel said, her gaze fixed on her pendant.

The mermaid’s laugh echoed off the stone, appearing to calm Rebel’s nerves. She set the necklace on a floating table chained to the wall, where several other knives and weapons were. Some were bolted down; others were embedded into the wood, covered with the residue of dark magic. Using her tail like a serpent, Doris propelled herself through the water and came to stand in front of the cages, giving cakes to a few sprites.

“What will the Siren do?” Rebel persisted, her teeth chattering. “Now that she can walk the earth?”

“What does any being with power want? More of it.” Anjeline’s insides twisted. “The Siren seeks revenge on mankind.”

Doris aimed a sharp look at them. “My daughter is not vindictive.” She moved to another cage and handed a cake to the sprite, but it looked too fearful to take it. Doris sighed. “Well, Melusine wasn’t when she was a little tail. There was a time when we were peaceful merfolk, until you humans ruined it.”

Anjeline huffed. “One would think humans are the only selfish, power-hungry creatures in the world. Yet there you stand,” she said, staring down the mermaid and the vase locked away. You once said the same about the Jinn, Solomon. She might have argued it once, but she was starting to see the truth with a certain human.

“Irony…” Rebel snorted, her breath steaming into crystals.

Lips curled in a sneer as Doris’s face drew into a map of lines. “There are malicious merfolk, as there are malicious people. The waters are the lifeblood of our world and we must protect it. Sooner or later, you land dwellers will see what you’ve done.”

“And you will see what you have done,” Anjeline said. She remembered a time when the merfolk hadn’t sought vindication, when they sliced through the rivers, bringing melody to the waters.

The old mermaid ignored the remark and cleaned her teeth with a fish bone. She turned her attention back to Rebel. “How did a girl the likes of you come into possession of the Wishmaker?”

Rebel shrugged between shivers.

“She thought she was stealing a vase,” Anjeline answered, thinking of that night. She blew more warmth into Rebel’s cage, letting it surround her.

Doris’s fishlike eyes squinted between them. “When my daughter captured you, why didn’t you wish yourself away, girl?”

Rebel’s face tightened, probably wondering the same thing. Instead, she said, “Because I made a promise.” She glanced at Anjeline. “To free her.”

Doris chuckled. “Ah, you’re a trustworthy bandit unlike your fox friend?”

“He’s…no friend,” she spat, breathing harshly.

“No, I suppose he’s not. Not anymore.”

Anjeline felt Rebel’s aura revolt at the words and the thought of the fox. What must have it been like to be betrayed by a friend? Madrath had deemed her own actions a betrayal. The bond between Jinn was a sacred thing, never to be broken. Though Solomon had made mistakes, he never violated her trust. Now, in the aftermath of Rebel endangering her life for Anjeline, her guilt emerged for ever doubting her. To distrust her now felt as if she would somehow be betraying herself.

Suddenly Rebel doubled over.

Her face twisted in pain and she rocked forward in a spasm. She grabbed at the bars, swaying on her feet as though she were on a boat. This wasn’t one of her tricks. Anjeline reacted, reaching through the bars, touching her shoulder, spreading comforting heat. “Rebel…”

“Please…” she pleaded to the mermaid. “I need…my bag.”

Doris’s eyes closed to mere slashes. “Are you sick, girl?”

Rustling sounded closer. The feyrie boy cocked his head in contemplation. “It’s her heart,” he said, looking her over. “Something’s not right. I could hear it when she entered the tunnels. It’s a mess.”

Doris shooed him. “I know about human hearts. I’ve enchanted enough of them.”

“She needs her pills,” Anjeline said, and stretched her arm farther through the bars, her fingers touching Rebel’s cold cheek, sensing her pulse trip. She chastised herself for not asking before about the pills. They equaled medicine for whatever Rebel had. She looked expectantly at the mermaid. “They were in her satchel your daughter discarded.”

Beneath Doris’s gaze, something emerged. She considered it, and then Rebel. “Hmm. Must I have pity for a human?” She shook her head at herself. “Be back in a shiver.”

She bent low, her tail disappeared, and the waters swallowed her up.

…

Rebel gripped the cage, waiting for the quivers to stop. Heat enfolded her, calming her heart. The attack would subside, but she needed her pills to keep it that way. The hand on her face felt feverish, and she leaned her cheek into Anjeline’s palm, waiting for her heart’s spasm to slow. She counted the pulses, one, five, ten…focusing on the lingering sensation of warm fingers instead of her dreaded weakness. Somewhere beyond these tunnels, Jaxon was tallying his gold, and the Siren was promenading around the earth, while Rebel’s chances of renewing her heart were ebbing away.

For several heartbeats, Anjeline focused on Rebel, her face tensed in a mixture of distress and bewilderment. “Are you going to explain?” she finally asked. “Your ailment?”

“When we get out of here I will.” Rebel exhaled.

“You never thought to mention it? What if something happens before—”

She jerked back. If Jaxon’s betrayal had numbed her, those words pierced her to the marrow. “Worried about your freedom?”

The hurt on Anjeline’s face was unmistakable. “I didn’t mean—”

“I’m numb. My body’s one big bruise. Someone I thought was family just sold me down the river. I feel as if I’ve been drowning for days, and it’s all been for you.” Rebel stared at her with all the power she could muster. “How can you doubt me when I’m already giving you my all?”

Anjeline’s voice softened. “Rebel…”

“I’m not Nero.”

Darkness dimmed those fiery eyes. Anjeline reached through the bars farther, touching. “No, you’re not. You have my promise. You see, the three rules for wishes are true, but the Siren doesn’t know my term in agreeing to cast it…is fake.”

Rebel leaned back in confusion. She struggled to put the words together when enlightenment came. Anjeline had manipulated the Siren, keeping them from handing Rebel over to the Prince. “You tricked the Siren into agreeing?” She smiled. “Not as helpless as you let them think?”

“I may be bound, but I still have my claws.” A smug grin tugged at Anjeline’s mouth. “Once they agree to the term, they think my magic binds it, believing if they go against it, their wish will fail, consequence or not. They don’t know these bonds force me to cast the wish regardless. It’s one way I can gain some control over their actions. For the safety of who I have faith in.”

This would explain her wish in the basement, why she hadn’t made Rebel agree to a term. It hit her then, all the little gestures. Anjeline’s warning in the Underground, preventing the lycans from ravaging her, conjuring her food, offering her a wish in the basement, and keeping her from freezing. Rebel saw how much Anjeline cared in her gaze even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it. The many times her lips would inch upward, as if she were forgetting to guard herself.

And as those sunlit eyes lingered on Rebel a half beat longer than the day before, she saw trust awaken. She almost couldn’t cope with Anjeline looking at her that way. It made her ticker do those wonderful and terrible things.

“Believe her, Fingersmith.” The winged boy winked. “I feel her magic for you.”

Rebel glanced from him to her. “What’s he talking about?”

A fiery glare was directed toward him. “You’re a meddlesome being,” Anjeline said, but there was no sting to her words.

“The name’s Piran.” He bowed. His voice was soft, hinted by a Japanese cadence. His small membranous wings stretched no farther than his shoulders and were as black as obsidian. When the light hit them at the right angle, they glistened with countless colors.

“What mistake did you make to get trapped here?” Rebel asked.

Piran’s brow drew closer to his metallic bangs, but behind his gaze glinted a hint of a smile. “Handsome charlatan, your fox friend. Though, a bit rude,” he said. “The Siren pinned her sweet melody in my ears, compelled me to service with him, carrying out her deeds up top.” He pointed upward, indicating London above.

She didn’t want to hear it but forced herself to ask. “What type of deeds?”

“The usual. Tricking humans to the river’s edge.” He didn’t need to explain. “Don’t look so sick. At least Jaxon only picked out the vile ones who deserved it.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” Everything Jaxon had done was wrong and so crude, but he did what they were best at—surviving. Even when it meant betrayal. Her shoulders sagged, about to cave in either by anger or grief. It must have shown because those warm hands reached through the bars and were on her arm again. “I’m a fool for trusting.”

Anjeline shook her head. “There’s bravery in trusting.”

Piran simpered. “I’m surprised you survived this long in our world.”

Rebel glanced at his wings pressed against his jacket, thinking of Jaxon’s foxtails. “You mean amongst Sidhe people?”

“We are the magical fair folk, made up of many, separate from you humans. We stay hidden and like it that way.” He leaned against the bars of his cage and hissed in pain. “Cursed iron.”

Inching to her own bars, Rebel touched them again, but nothing happened to her as it had to him. “Iron is poisonous to feyries,” Anjeline told her.

“But not to you, Wishmaker,” Piran said. “I’m an aid to the Lady of the Sun Court. If you release us, she can safeguard you.”

Anjeline sighed. “If I were capable of releasing you, I’d be on the opposite side of the cage.”

“But you’re a lockpick?” He looked to Rebel. “Don’t you crack safes for a living?”

For a second, she eyed her pendant on the table and nodded to Anjeline. “Could you float it to me?”

“It’s worth a try.” Anjeline put a hand through the bars and blew a sizzling breath, like she had in the train with the wolves. The moment her magic inched toward the pendant, her cuffs shimmered, the magician’s marks flaring to life. She hissed back in pain and her power died out. “The Siren must have enchanted the weapons. The table’s drenched in dark magic. I can’t get close enough.”

In frustration, Rebel hit the bars. She might be able to sway her cage enough and fit her arm through to the vase’s pen. To touch it and put her imprint back on it. What would happen if she wished them free? Images flashed in her mind. The boy devoid of eyes. No, she wouldn’t be wishing again. But she had to get Anjeline out of here before the Siren returned.

The waters below rippled.

Sprites scurried about after hearing the whoosh rising up. Grayish-green hair split the water, and the old mermaid propelled herself toward the cages with a bag clenched in her hand.

Rebel breathed in relief. “Bless you.” She reached through the bars for her bag, but Doris lurched back. She expected the mermaid to change her mind, but instead, Doris gave a flick of her wrist and the cage unlocked.

The door swung open.

The old mermaid pushed the satchel into Rebel’s hands, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her to the edge of the cage. “Leave, girl,” she hissed and glanced over her shoulder to the tunnel’s opening. “My daughter won’t be back for hours.”

“What are you—” Rebel began.

“Leave!” she chided. “The jinni’s done nothing but put your life in danger.”

Anjeline jerked the bars. “Speak for yourself.”

“Now’s your chance to be done of our world,” the mermaid told her. “You go on this journey and you will die on it.”

“You’re letting me go?” Rebel couldn’t believe her luck and wondered how right those words were. This journey had opened her up to a world full of trouble, and she didn’t want to imagine what lay ahead. She’d been flung through so many challenges, she felt emotionally hungover, and her heart screamed to be done with it all.

“Go, girl.” Doris pushed.

But she stood still, peering between them.

“Rebel?” Anjeline said her name in such sweet desperation.

She couldn’t take the look on her face, couldn’t take those eyes darkening into little pools of worry, reflecting the firelight of the torches. What would happen if she ran? What would become of Anjeline the Wishmaker? What would become of her own heart? Those odd-colored eyes stared at her, the ones that at first sight had caused her heart to feel a strange thing. And Rebel knew, there was nothing stranger than what she was about to do.

She looked at Anjeline and winked.

Then she ran.