But, in my defence, Raisa had come through. Syria was six hours ahead of Toronto, which meant it had been about four in the morning there when I’d emailed her. It would be about eight now. For her, that was great timing.

  Even though I was completely and utterly over Raisa, and had been since she’d returned to Syria, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d seen my name and opened it immediately before anything else.

  It didn’t matter. This was a purely professional email. There were no personal feelings involved aside from a mutual respect for each other, nothing that would warrant Ariadne being jealous over. I wasn’t just saying that, either. In fact, I decided the best way to alleviate the nagging guilt was to let her know we were still in touch. It wasn’t the communication that made me feel guilty, anyway. It was the feeling of keeping it a secret. It wasn’t a secret. There was no reason for it to be. It also wasn’t the point. The point was that in my hand was a detailed email full of everything I had never wanted to know about djinn.

  It took some effort to hit the power button on my phone and set it face-down on the bedside table. I didn’t want to read this right now. The email would still be there in the morning. It wasn’t like I could even make out what she was saying, considering I couldn’t even see straight. The best thing I could do for the djinni’s victims was get enough rest to bring their killer to justice.

  I somehow managed to fall asleep again, even with the mental image of Matt Person’s bones behind my eyelids.

  Rowan was already at his desk when I arrived in the morning. Between his intense focus on his computer screen and the headphones over his head, he seemed too distracted to notice me. I didn’t know how he handled having his back to most of the floor. It would have driven me crazy, having to constantly look over my shoulder or into my compact mirror to see if anybody was behind me. But his eyes flickered to me as I passed him, so maybe he had better instincts than I did.

  His desk was a mess. There were stacks of paper all over the place, three separate potted plants, and two picture frames that each held a photograph of a different cat. Pens and pencils were scattered over the papers. One was tucked behind his ear. Sticky notes were stuck all over the place, including one on his cheek.

  As I sat at my own neatly organized desk, Rowan hung his headphones around his neck. Faint music played from it. It was too soft and too far away for me to make out exactly what it was, but it sounded like the same hard rock that played from his car. The shadows under his eyes suggested he had gotten about as much sleep as I had. Had he stayed up all night thinking about the case, too? Judging by the many folders perched precariously on the edge of his desk, it wasn’t the only one that might have been on his mind.

  Even after one day, the stack of cases I hadn’t even touched yet — not to mention the arrest report I hadn’t even started on — was growing beyond what I thought I could manage. That was what I got for transferring to an understaffed department. The other divisions weren’t as bad as this one. This wasn’t my division of choice. In fact, police officers rarely worked in the divisions they lived in in case somebody followed them home or they had to arrest somebody they knew. Most of the detectives I knew lived in one of the nearby cities like Vaughan or Markham. Working in my home division made me a rare exception. For some reason, Sabine had made me the offer. It didn’t worry me.

  Beside us, Kieron and Indira’s desk were mirrors of our own. Indira’s looked like a disaster zone, while Kieron’s was neat enough that I was sure I could find anything on it if I needed to. That might have been a product of Kieron’s military training. It struck me as a funny coincidence that the human witches were organized and the parahumans weren’t. I nodded my head to the empty desks.

  “Do they come in later?” I asked.

  Rowan nodded. “Yeah. Kieron’s got to get his daughter ready for school. Indira’s nocturnal, so he gets the extra couple hours of sleep. They’re usually in around the same time.”

  I gave a slight nod and filed the information away for future reference.

  Rowan stood and tossed something at me. I caught it with both hands. It was a magazine for my Glock. I raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Silver bullets,” he said. “Guys in the 11th just handled some werewolves and had extra, so we don’t have to wait for more to come in. We going to give Margaret another visit or what? Her website says she isn’t open for half an hour so by the time we grab coffee and get there, we should be able to have a good chat with her.”

  The way he clenched his fist when he said ‘chat’ didn’t bode well. It didn’t bother me as much as it should have. If Margaret was using a djinni to fulfill her clients’ wishes, she was just as responsible for these deaths as they were. I wasn’t an expert, but legally, she might have been even more responsible if she was commanding them.

  I wasn’t sure she was, though. She didn’t seem like she had that kind of power. That said, most people didn’t think I had the power I did. She could have been hiding just how much skill she really had.

  I didn’t tell him about Raisa’s email. Not right away. I still had to decide how much I wanted to tell him. The information Raisa had given me wasn’t insignificant. Even if she hadn’t included how to trap a djinni, she had told me how to temporarily contain one. It was a bit out of the realm of my abilities. We would have to get a specialist involved, and I was reluctant to do that if there was another alternative. In the wrong hands, that information could be incredibly dangerous to the few djinn out there. This case was proof enough of that. I couldn’t believe she’d tell me so much in an email.

  What I would do with the information would depend on what Margaret told us. There was still a chance she hadn’t bound the djinni to her will. How would she even know how to do something like that? It wasn’t like that information could be found from a simple Google search. I’d tried it. Even my old textbooks didn’t have a complete set of instructions, and most of what they did have was Sumerian.

  Rowan had been right about one thing. By the time we arrived at the shop with our coffees, the lights were on. I caught Rowan’s arm as we crossed the parking lot.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Can I be bad cop this time?”

  “Oh, hell yeah. This, I want to see.” His grin was quickly replaced with a scowl. “You think it’s in there? The djinni?”

  The possibility hadn’t even occurred to me. I hadn’t noticed any sign of a djinni last time we were here, but I also hadn’t been looking for it. From here, it was impossible to tell.

  “We have to expect it,” I said.

  Rowan nodded. “Well, then, I’m glad we got silver bullets. Your barriers djinni proof?”

  “I hope so.”

  The truth was, I had no idea. They could block physical magic well enough, but djinn worked on a different level entirely. I hoped to Allah we wouldn’t have to find out.

  I led the way into the shop with my hand raised just slightly to prepare for pulling up a barrier. Rowan was at my heels, one hand resting not-so-subtly on his gun still sitting in the holster at his hip. Margaret was frantically packing things away into boxes. That wasn’t suspicious at all. Her head snapped up as we entered, her eyes wild and surrounded by yesterday’s smudged makeup. She inhaled sharply and took a step back.

  “Don’t move,” Rowan said. “I swear to God, if you make us run this early, we are hauling your ass downtown for this conversation.”

  So much for letting me be bad cop. He was better suited to it than I was, anyway, with his bared forearm tattoos and grungy appearance, but I was furious enough with her to make up for it. I had no sympathy for those tears.

  “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice trembling. “I have to go. I have to get out of here.”

  Was she afraid of the djinni? Maybe she hadn’t trapped him, then. Maybe he’d been working for her willingly. If that was the case, what did she have to be so afraid of?

  “I’m sure a few minutes won’t make a difference. Nothing will get past us,” I said.

  I let some of the heat snake up through my skin, just enough to form a small barrier about twice the size of my hand. I held it for a few seconds, long enough for her to get a good look at the solid light, before letting it dissipate into the air. The words themselves should have been encouraging, but I inflected an edge of warning into my voice that would leave no ambiguity to my meaning. Nothing would get past me, not even her. Especially not her.

  It looked like we were both going to be playing Bad Cop this morning. Rowan let out an amused snort from behind me. He took a step forward, but didn’t move close enough to come between me and Margaret.

  “I— I—” she stammered.

  “You are going to tell us what exactly the fuck you did,” Rowan said.

  Margaret looked at me with anxious desperation in her eyes, searching for sympathy. I didn’t give it. We had given her the benefit of the doubt before and she’d taken advantage of us. She wouldn’t get away with that again. The time for sympathy was long gone. She was, directly or not, a murderer.

  “You trapped a djinni,” I said.

  Either she would confirm or deny it.

  Her bloodshot eyes widened, and she shook her head violently.

  “I didn’t! I swear, I didn’t trap him.”

  Finally, we were getting somewhere. Her words brought back the possibility of a mutual partnership.

  “What, then?” Rowan said.

  “I bought his contract.”

  It took several seconds for me to process her words. She bought… his contract. There was no contract. Djinni didn’t work with contracts. Somebody else had trapped or bound the djinni, and she had paid for that bond. Rowan’s pure rage overshadowed my own anger. He stormed past me and any protection my barriers could offer, and grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling it up so she had to stand on her toes.

  “You bought him?” he snarled. “What is he, a fucking pair of jeans?”

  He raised his fist. I wasn’t sure if he would actually strike her or if it was part of a tactic, but I didn’t want to wait to find out. That anger was definitely real. If he did hit her, I wouldn’t blame him. In fact, I probably wouldn’t even admit that he had done it. I don’t know what happened, I was looking at something else. I didn’t want to be that kind of cop, and I didn’t want him to be, either.

  I closed the gap between us and pried his hand from her shirt.

  “Take a walk,” I said.

  Rowan turned his head to me. His pupils were blown wide, and his nostrils were flared as he breathed heavily. I half-expected him to hit me instead. After a few breaths, he took a step back. His hands were shaking.

  “I’ll be outside. If she tries anything…”

  He let the words hang in the air and turned to leave the shop. Only when the door closed behind him did I step out of Margaret’s personal space.

  “Thank you,” she said, shaking.

  “Don’t thank me. If you don’t answer my questions truthfully, I will call him back and you will have to talk to him. Am I clear?”

  Margaret swallowed and nodded. I didn’t like to even imply the threat of violence, but if anybody deserved it, it was her.

  “What happened?” I demanded. “From the start. Who did you buy his contract from?”

  “I don’t know. He was just some guy. I didn’t get his name. He came in to buy some herbs. We got to talking. I told him we’ve been having trouble. Our spells aren’t always as effective as people want, and he had a solution.”

  “Do you remember what he looked like?”

  I looked around and saw a security camera. My momentary hope was squashed when I realized it wasn’t connected to anything. A sketch artist would be my only hope. Margaret shifted.

  “Not… really. I see so many people. He was, well… Sort of— you looking. He had an accent, too.”

  ‘Me’ looking. I rubbed the bridge of my nose. It was very, very tempting to call Rowan back in to finish this.

  “A mysterious man comes in to fix all your problems, just like that,” I snapped.

  “It’s the truth! He— He didn’t want the thing anymore, and I didn’t see the harm.”

  I didn’t even know where to start with that. The sheer everything of that statement made me go a little blind from disbelief for a moment. It felt like my brain had to reboot just to process what she was saying.

  “You didn’t see the harm in buying another person,” I repeated slowly, trying to make sure I was understanding right.

  “Well, it’s not really a person, is it? It’s a genie. They’re made for this.”

  Margaret’s sniffles only made me want to let Rowan handle the rest of this even more. I dug my nails into my palms and counted to ten as I exhaled. I couldn’t let my emotions get the better of me. Not right now. Later, I could be as angry as I wanted. Until then, I had to be professional.

  “You bought his contract from this stranger. Then what?”

  “Then, when people came in looking for something, I gave them what they wanted. I did sell those people the charms and tonics. But I… I also told them that for an extra fee, I could give them something more effective and more p-permanent.”

  “Well, you certainly didn’t lie about that part,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “I didn’t know it would kill them! I’ll bet that was why that man wanted to be rid of it so badly.”

  It. There she was again, treating this djinni like a thing.

  “What’s their name?” I demanded.

  “I told you, I didn’t get his name.”

  “The djinni’s!”

  “Oh!” She frowned. “Does it have one?”

  Ya Allah, I was going to scream. I grabbed a handful of my hair and breathed through my nose. My second day with a new unit wasn’t the time to lose my temper. Margaret wasn’t malicious, she was just stupid. Stupid and callous and inhumane. It would have almost been better if she was malicious.

  “Where’s the contract?” I asked.

  If she signed anything, it might have their name. Still sniffling, she walked around to behind the counter. I called up more energy from the reserve beneath my skin in case she pulled out a weapon. I hoped Rowan was standing guard over the back exit in case she ran again. It was what I would have done.

  Thankfully, she neither pulled a weapon nor did she run. Instead, she pulled out a strip of what looked like paper and held it out to me with a shaky hand. It wasn’t paper, I realized as I took it, but papyrus. Holding the edges to keep from transferring my fingerprints as much as possible, I studied the Arabic calligraphy. It was an older form of Classical Arabic, one I was only just familiar enough with to make out the words that would bind a djinni to a master. The place where the master’s name should have been was faded out. In all likelihood, the transference of ownership was only temporary. Either Margaret didn’t have the power to keep it intact or, maybe more likely, this ownership was never meant to be permanent. There was a good chance we would never know who had originally created it.

  “You lost control of him,” I said as I folded the note as carefully as I could before tucking it into my pocket.

  She nodded. “I don’t know what he’s going to do to me. He'll probably kill me.”

  I should have cared more about that than I did.

  “Don’t make any wishes, then,” I said dryly. “And don’t leave town.”

  I left without another word. If I spent any more time talking to her, I couldn’t guarantee I’d be able to resist the urge to kill her myself. More realistically, I’d end up slapping her. I found Rowan pacing near the back door. There was still some wildness in his eyes when he looked up at me, but at least he didn’t look ready to punch anybody out at that moment.

  “Well?” he said.

  “Get somebody to bring her in. We have a name.”

  The djinni’s name was Miraj, and we had to find him.

  Fast.

  Chapter Nine

  Having a name was a start, but it wasn’t enough.

  Rowan had left me two hours ago to ask around to some of his shadier contacts while I returned to the office to finish the paperwork on the storm witch’s arrest from yesterday. This was shaping up to be one of the longer weeks of my life, and it was only Tuesday.

  I should have been out there, too, but we didn’t have the resources to have two people chasing leads on the same case. I would have thought that if any case would warrant the extra hands, it was this one. Apparently, I was mistaken.

  “Hate to break it to you, but this ain’t Homicide,” Kieron said. “We ain’t got neither the manpower nor the budget. If Rowan says he’ll get you a lead, he’ll get you a lead. Boy knows what he’s doing, believe it or not.”

  When he said Rowan’s name, the w disappeared and it all fit in one syllable. He was easier to understand face-to-face where I could at least see what he was saying than over the phone, but it still took a good amount of focus to decipher some of his words. Still, I felt like I could listen to the easy musical way he talked all day as long as I didn’t have to process any of it.

  “I believe him. I just think I should be the one out there and he should be doing the paperwork. He was there too,” I said.

  Kieron snorted out a laugh.

  “All the time he’s been with this department, I don’t think I seen him do paperwork once. He’d rather be out there hitting the pavement.”

  “Wouldn’t we all?” Indira said from the desk opposite Kieron.

  It was the first thing he’d said in several minutes, having taken a break from his very long, very detailed explanation of his most recent investigation with the Drug Squad. Pixie dust was apparently the name of several different drugs, one of which actually came from pixies. I hadn’t known that two hours ago but now, I knew more about pixies and all forms of pixie dust than I’d ever thought I would.

  Indira was right. Paperwork was a necessity, especially if we didn’t want a case getting thrown out on a technicality. I’d seen good lawyers get cases thrown out over a single comma. It all had to be done meticulously, which was an unfortunate weakness of mine when I had to mentally translate everything I said. Sometimes, things made sense in my head but not on paper. It was all the more reason why mine and Rowan’s roles should have been reversed right now.

 

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