Here is a work in progress, teaser. This is the opening scene of a Urban Fantasy-Mystery novel that J and I are playing with. This is my opening entry into the book, which will be set in India. This means, of course, a lot of research!
* * * * *
“Look, I’ve been told you have a knack for finding people, Mr. Winter.” The dark haired man leaned forward, resting on his desk. Edward frowned, forcing himself not to look at the smears he knew were being left on the black glass.
“I don’t work for your sort. I’m a free cat.” Barely containing a sneer he clenched his fists, although he really wanted to extend his claws and rip the sorcerer’s throat out. Power hungry, and willing to bargain with any sort of higher being to gain power, Ed didn’t trust their brand of blood magic. It always came with a leash.
“That’s not what I hear.” A smile curved the man’s lips, making his expression crueler rather than more pleasant. He slid a folded envelope across the table, “And you won’t be working for me, but rather my employer. Jayna took something that isn’t hers, and it must be returned. Don’t worry, you’ll be paid handsomely. She doesn’t want to compel you.” Anymore than she already was… The words didn’t have to be spoken, they were implied. What did this mysterious “she” have on him?
He took the envelope and immediately an overwhelming scent of patchouli oil and jasmine filled his nostrils. His vision clouded with a desert vista and a blue skinned woman, hair dancing around her shoulders, highlighted with flickers of dancing flame. He could almost feel her hand on his shoulder…
Edward jerked back snarling and tossed the envelope on the table, claws sprouting from his knuckles. Who the hell had known that after three wishes, you owed another three back to the Djinn. Unless you had control of the Djinn’s anchor, they were the master and you were the slave. Fancy, really, how legend told another story.
“What does Amra want? No matter what she’s giving you, the price is too high.” Another flash of blue skin passed through Ed’s mind’s eye, how her touch burned like the fire that she was born from.
The Englishman smiled, sitting back in his chair and shrugging. “I have power, more than any other sorcerer. I can stand up to full mages. I haven’t seen a downside yet. So you’ll take the case? He glanced at Ed’s claws, arching an eyebrow.
Edward focused his strength, and drew the claws back into flesh, hiding behind a shield of humanity. “I want to talk to Amra directly.”
“Not possible. She’s… not manifesting. She’ll see you tonight, though… ” He nodded to the letter, “Make yourself a nice tea, chamomile. She’ll be in your dreams.”
Edward glared at the letter, as if he could stare down Amra’s spirit-impression left in the paper. Son of a bitch. “Fine.” He growled, “That’s only one more I’ll owe her.”
The sorcerer leaned forward and offered a hand, drawing attention to the silver and gold slave chain jingling on his forearm and the spikes that dug into the sorcerer’s flesh, turning it red purple. Ed ignored the hand and the Englishman laughed. “Details of the case are in the envelope, Jayna was one of Amra’s favorites and she’d been bound to her Ladyship for over two centuries. Before she left, she tried to recruit the rest of us, saying she knew where to locate Amra’s lamp.”
Edward’s gaze jerked to the sorcerer, “Son of a bitch!”
The sorcerer sneered, “I see you get the trouble we’re in, cat. A genie is bloody powerful, the perfect servant. But humans are greedy, so the wishes get bigger and bigger and if they hold the Djinn’s anchor no wish can be refused. Kingdoms fall, storms destroy and the Djinn’s essence is depleted until they simply cease to exist. Sure there were some wise masters, spaced the wishes 2 or 3 at a time… but slavery is still slavery.”
No wonder Amra wouldn’t manifest. Disembodied, she had no power and also couldn’t be controlled. “It’s been centuries since the last genie lamp surfaced.”
“Amra knows Jayna’s got help, someone strong enough to shield her from the slave-bond. And she knows likely places where Amra would hide her lamp.” Edward decided not to point out the irony of an enslaved race turning slaver.
Tapping the envelope on the table, Edward watched the ticking second hand on his wall clock. Who wouldn’t be tempted by controlling a genie, but the stories couldn’t be too far from the truth; a vengeful genie could find ways to obey the letter of a wish and still sabotage the Master. Ed wasn’t Muslim, but the Koran had it right; genies are evil spirits. He regretted most of his dealings with Amra.
He’d probably regret this too, “What can I call you?”
The sorcerer smiled, “I’m James. Amra will be most relieved to know you’re on the case.”
“I’ll need a contract stating this will free me of one of my favors owed her.”
“Done. You can discuss terms with her tonight.” Edward really didn’t want Amra in his head, but she’d never asked permission before. She’d not listen to a thing he said tonight.
“Does Amra have any idea who may be helping Jayna?”
“The Emperor Pride.”
Now Edward did snarl, a feline growl escaping his throat. “Interlopers…”
“Amra heard the pride had an eye on the Mahim Preserve, so you see this is in both your interests. She can help you maintain your territory, but if they have a genie enslaved…”
Edward pocketed the letter, rumbling another low growl. “They wouldn’t stop at just the Mahim… or even Mumbai” The Asiatic breed of lions had as much of a grudge against humanity as tigers did… Edward simply disagreed with the idea of genocide as retribution.
“As I said, you’ll be paid handsomely.” A ghostly caress played over his chest, but Edward ignored Amra’s impression, putting the letter from his mind. He’d not had much time for women lately, but giving in to Amra was playing with fire. Beautiful, useful… and deadly when out of your control; and Amra was never under control.
He pulled a card from his pocket and slid it to James, “Call me if there’s more you need. I’ll fax a standard contract to the Second Chance Talent Agency.”
“I’ll be waiting for it.” Apparently a quick learner, James left the office without bothering to offer a hand again. Edward watched the clouded glass for a long time, brooding. There was a reason he’d stuck to cases involving cheating housewives and embezzling employees lately, usually no one tried to nuke you for exposing that sort of thing. Or more specifically, usually no one had the power to nuke you with that sort of thing. Maybe his mother was right; he should stick to the family business, serving tea and sushi to businessmen. The Blue Orchid was solid income, he’d never live richly… but no one would try to turn him into barbecue tiger either.
But neither was he a tame tiger. Wild blood ran in his veins, and if he wasn’t being paid to be nosy, he’d be prowling the neighbor’s rooftops and rifling their garbage. Edward was reminded of the smudged desk and he pulled the Windex from a drawer and he fastidiously wiped away the fingerprints until the black glass gleamed again. Flicking off the light, Ed locked his office door and headed into the alleyway. A steady rain fell, turning the streets into a mess of dirt, slick oily deposits and refuse he simply didn’t want to identify. The faintest scent of jasmine still teased his senses, reminding Edward that his life was about to get a little too damn interesting.
~Kristen
