final end. You can no more ignore me than you can die.”
“Very dramatic,” Dela said, peeking around Hari’s arm. “Do you have a point?”
The Magi’s smile was fleeting, forced. “Indeed. I have a task for Hari. If he completes it, I will set him free.”
“Only my skin can set me free.” Hari narrowed his eyes. “Or so you told me, once upon a time.”
“I have your skin. Help me, and I will return it.”
Dela stifled a gasp as Hari threw back his head; his bark of laughter was sharp and cold, so cold. “I would rather remain a slave than help you. Oathbreaker. Murderer. I will have nothing to do with you, unless it is to cut your throat.”
Something tightened in the Magi’s eyes, a bright cruel hunger. “A life for a life, Hari. Was that so hard a bargain?”
“The kind a devil might make,” Dela said.
The Magi’s careful mask fractured. Real anger contorted thefine lines of his face, which suddenly appeared hollow, sunken: a breathing cadaver. Dela again smelled garlic, the spice of hot pepper. The Magi shook his head, backing away. Profound menace shadowed his eyes.
“I am done,” he said softly. “Remember this day, Hari. You as well, mistress. I tried pleasantries. I should have stayed with pain.” He looked at Dela. “I would have asked you for the box. I am sure you can guess how I will claim it now.”
Hari growled, but Dela shook her head. “Bite me.”
A cold smile, full of teeth. “I just might.”
For a man who purportedly possessed the power to screw with reality, the Magi’s departure was decidedly ordinary. Without a backward glance, he strolled down the corridor past a crowded Starbucks, and pushed open the great glass doors that led out to the taxi circle.
A strangled cry spilled from Hari’s throat, and he began running after the Magi. The shape-shifter moved incredibly fast—a golden-eyed inferno—and Dela tried to follow, dodging startled shoppers left reeling in his wake.
The Magi, halfway through the doors, glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He raised his hand.
Dela screamed as something hard impacted her stomach. Crippling pain contorted her body. She crashed to the floor as claws raked the insides of her ribs, cutting bone.
Through blurred vision, she saw the Magi make his escape; it seemed to her that his shoulders were hunched, his arms wrapped over his own belly.
Strangers touched her. Dela wanted them gone, away, all those unfamiliar hands and voices, pressing against her useless body. And then Hari was there, pushing everyone aside, scooping her up into his strong warm arms. He said her name, but she could not make herself answer.
Darkness swallowed her.
* * *
Dela dreamed, but her dreams were ordinary, without secrets from the future. A tiger ate a chocolate bar, and she was dressed like Alice in Wonderland, perched cross-legged on a spotted mushroom, trying to outwit an evil, grinning caterpillar. Dela was just thinking of a witty comeback to the caterpillar’s insulting remarks about her slug-shaped dancing shoes when she woke up.
Disoriented, eyelids gummy, it took her a moment to realize she was in bed.
In bed, tucked against a warm body, a heavy arm draped across her waist.
Dela inhaled the light, indefinable aroma of forest after heavy rain, which barely masked the scent of leather, man. Hari. Not that she had expected anyone else. His weight around her body was unexpectedly comfortable. Soothing. She was afraid to move; she did not want him to pull away. He made her feel safe, a precious gift after a most unsettling day.
She must have twitched—or perhaps her breathing changed. Hari stirred, carefully rolling from her. Dela caught his hand, but she did not look at him. Instead, she tugged Hari close, entwining his fingers in her own until he spooned against her back. His breath warmed her neck, and she sighed.
“Are you well?” he asked quietly, his voice low, rumbling from his chest.
“Better,” she said. “I’ve
“Very dramatic,” Dela said, peeking around Hari’s arm. “Do you have a point?”
The Magi’s smile was fleeting, forced. “Indeed. I have a task for Hari. If he completes it, I will set him free.”
“Only my skin can set me free.” Hari narrowed his eyes. “Or so you told me, once upon a time.”
“I have your skin. Help me, and I will return it.”
Dela stifled a gasp as Hari threw back his head; his bark of laughter was sharp and cold, so cold. “I would rather remain a slave than help you. Oathbreaker. Murderer. I will have nothing to do with you, unless it is to cut your throat.”
Something tightened in the Magi’s eyes, a bright cruel hunger. “A life for a life, Hari. Was that so hard a bargain?”
“The kind a devil might make,” Dela said.
The Magi’s careful mask fractured. Real anger contorted thefine lines of his face, which suddenly appeared hollow, sunken: a breathing cadaver. Dela again smelled garlic, the spice of hot pepper. The Magi shook his head, backing away. Profound menace shadowed his eyes.
“I am done,” he said softly. “Remember this day, Hari. You as well, mistress. I tried pleasantries. I should have stayed with pain.” He looked at Dela. “I would have asked you for the box. I am sure you can guess how I will claim it now.”
Hari growled, but Dela shook her head. “Bite me.”
A cold smile, full of teeth. “I just might.”
For a man who purportedly possessed the power to screw with reality, the Magi’s departure was decidedly ordinary. Without a backward glance, he strolled down the corridor past a crowded Starbucks, and pushed open the great glass doors that led out to the taxi circle.
A strangled cry spilled from Hari’s throat, and he began running after the Magi. The shape-shifter moved incredibly fast—a golden-eyed inferno—and Dela tried to follow, dodging startled shoppers left reeling in his wake.
The Magi, halfway through the doors, glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He raised his hand.
Dela screamed as something hard impacted her stomach. Crippling pain contorted her body. She crashed to the floor as claws raked the insides of her ribs, cutting bone.
Through blurred vision, she saw the Magi make his escape; it seemed to her that his shoulders were hunched, his arms wrapped over his own belly.
Strangers touched her. Dela wanted them gone, away, all those unfamiliar hands and voices, pressing against her useless body. And then Hari was there, pushing everyone aside, scooping her up into his strong warm arms. He said her name, but she could not make herself answer.
Darkness swallowed her.
* * *
Dela dreamed, but her dreams were ordinary, without secrets from the future. A tiger ate a chocolate bar, and she was dressed like Alice in Wonderland, perched cross-legged on a spotted mushroom, trying to outwit an evil, grinning caterpillar. Dela was just thinking of a witty comeback to the caterpillar’s insulting remarks about her slug-shaped dancing shoes when she woke up.
Disoriented, eyelids gummy, it took her a moment to realize she was in bed.
In bed, tucked against a warm body, a heavy arm draped across her waist.
Dela inhaled the light, indefinable aroma of forest after heavy rain, which barely masked the scent of leather, man. Hari. Not that she had expected anyone else. His weight around her body was unexpectedly comfortable. Soothing. She was afraid to move; she did not want him to pull away. He made her feel safe, a precious gift after a most unsettling day.
She must have twitched—or perhaps her breathing changed. Hari stirred, carefully rolling from her. Dela caught his hand, but she did not look at him. Instead, she tugged Hari close, entwining his fingers in her own until he spooned against her back. His breath warmed her neck, and she sighed.
“Are you well?” he asked quietly, his voice low, rumbling from his chest.
“Better,” she said. “I’ve
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