A Risky Proposition (15 page)

“Great raid, Pat,” chimed a thin, graceful woman.  She was breathtaking, with watery turquoise eyes and wavy red hair that seemed to billow in an unseen wind.  I struggled to subdue a surge of jealousy.

“Who’s that?” I whispered to Lorien, trying to sound casual.

Her knowing smirk told me she hadn’t been fooled by my off-handed tone.  “That’s Daisy.  She belongs to the tribe of the Marid djinn.”

She grinned at the look of horror that passed across my face.  “She’s not a death djinn, Sydney.  The Marids are water djinns, and they don’t deal in the soul trade.  Death djinns belong to the Ifrit tribe—they’re fire djinns.”

I repeated my mantra for the day:  “Oh.”

We followed a brooding Sparrow down a long hallway and through a locked door.  It opened onto a covered walkway that led across a stark grassy courtyard, ending at a shiny metal gate in a grey stone wall.  Burly guards nodded at Sparrow as we passed through the gate, beyond which crouched a stone bunker, imposing in its sheer massiveness.

After clearing the silent efficiency of prison security, we were buzzed through another locked gate.  This led onto a brightly lit, sterile hallway, lined with modest cells whose bars were set into a clear Plexiglas.  The only comforts provided were a flimsy-looking cot, a lidless metal toilet, and a small television bolted into a high corner near the ceiling.  I was surprised to see how many of the cells were inhabited only by an old-fashioned bronze oil lamp sitting on a narrow table. 

Apparently the death djinn raid
had
been successful.

The single living creature I saw within one of the cells was a squat, ugly man curled up on a cot, snoring loudly.  His skin was mottled and his light reddish hair was thin and wiry.  He had a broad, flat nose and a grotesquely wide mouth.

“Goblin,” whispered Lorien in distaste.

Sparrow stopped before one of the cells containing a table with an oil lamp and unlocked the door.  “I’ve made arrangements to send you in—I think it will make for a better interview than forcing him out to talk to you.”

I swallowed.  “You can do that?”

“It’s a complicated spell, which is one reason why it was so difficult to get authorized, but yes, I can do that.  He won’t be able to harm you—as long as you don’t wish for anything,” he added pointedly.  “Are you ready?”

“I guess,” I answered, my eyes glued to his.

“I need you to be certain, Sydney, because I’m sure as hell not.”

I cleared my throat and looked at the lamp, unable to lie to Sparrow’s face.  “Yes, I’m ready.”

“You’ve got twenty minutes,” he said abruptly.  “You already know he’ll use every tactic he’s got to try to persuade you to make a wish.  Stay focused on what you want to ask him and remember why you’re there, and you should be fine.  This talisman is keyed to you.”  He held up a bright silver coin, slightly larger than a quarter, and depicting an intricately detailed tree on one side. 

“If you want to come out before the twenty minutes are up, all you have to do is touch this and you’ll instantly be transported back here.  I’m going to slip it into your pocket, because I’ve spelled it to be very sensitive and I don’t want it to react to your touch before you need it.  Is that alright?”

I nodded mutely and lifted the hem of my silk shirt above my right front jeans pocket.  Sparrow stepped toward me and leaned down, using two fingers to carefully pull the edge of the pocket forward.  He tucked the coin inside, pushing it deep enough so that it wouldn’t fall out, but leaving it easily accessible.

I inhaled shakily.  I’d forgotten how good he smelled.  His heady scent, combined with the brief intimacy of his touch, erased my growing fear.  For an instant, only Sparrow and I existed, and I didn’t care why he was touching me, as long as he kept doing it.  He glanced up at me, straightening slowly, his blue eyes growing hot.  He lingered for a moment before gently slipping his fingers back out of my pocket, the movement a tantalizing caress.

His gave me an unhurried smile and whispered, “Come back to me, Sydney.”

Then he turned away, stepping toward the lamp to begin a soft chant.  My nerve endings felt like live wires as my gaze left his back and drifted to Lorien.  She was so studiously ignoring us, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find her whistling.

“It’s ready,” Sparrow said.  “When you touch the lamp, you’ll be transported inside.  He won’t be allowed any physical contact with you.  Just watch what you say, and we’ll be waiting here for you when you come back out.  Remember—twenty minutes.”

“Good luck, Sydney—and no wishing!” Lorien cautioned.

“Thanks,” I muttered as I stepped forward and grasped the lamp before I could change my mind.

I shut my eyes against the sudden blackness, and when I opened them again I was standing in a small, rounded room that glowed with soft, pleasing light.  The trip was much more agreeable than the one using Lorien’s transport powder, albeit to a much less agreeable destination.

I looked around to find Balthus reclining on an overstuffed love seat.  He was elegantly dressed in dark slacks and a navy silk shirt, and disturbingly handsome, considering the threat he posed. 

“Sydney—what a pleasant surprise!  I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but you look even more enchanting than I remembered.  Won’t you have a seat?”  He scooted to one side, offering me the space next to him.

I hesitated for a moment, then perched myself on the edge of the room’s modest bed, deciding its intimate associations were preferable to the proximity of sharing the love seat.

“Hello Balthus,” I said politely, trying to match his easy self-assurance and take control of the situation.  “How are you doing?”

He gave me a mocking smile, his eyes sparkling with emerald fire as he re-centered himself on the love seat.  “You mean other than being falsely incarcerated?  I’m doing fine, thank you, Sydney.  These accommodations are rather restrictive, although I suppose that they are…adequate, considering the situation.  And you?  How are you finding your new accommodations?”

“Uh, they’re lovely, thank you,” I answered, trying not to squirm at the obligation that question implied.

“I am pleased to hear it.  I did my best not to cut any corners on that particular wish.  I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of granting full ownership of the penthouse and arranging for complimentary use of the hotel’s perks for just anyone, you know.  I have special plans for us, Sydney.  You will find that I can be an extremely desirable companion—quite literally what or whomever you wish.”

The seductive intensity of his gaze pulled at me, and I found myself leaning forward, my breath coming a little faster. 

“With only a few simple words, you can become immortal, Sydney,” he whispered, his tone increasingly hypnotic.  “Have you even stopped to consider the meaning of that?  You would never age or grow sick.  You would remain in eternal beauty, forever able to enjoy the endless pleasures I am offering you.” 

His voice was warm silk, gently entwining me with promises, both spoken and unspoken.  I shuddered against the tendrils of desire swirling through me, and the effort it took to ignore them.  When I pushed them down, they coalesced into a low ache.

“I don’t want immortality Balthus.”  I forced the words out with difficulty.  “And no matter how enjoyable you insist it would be, I have no desire to become anyone’s slave.  I came here for answers.  I would appreciate it if you would stop trying to trick me into making a…”  I clenched my teeth, stubbornly refusing to say the word.  “I’ve already had my
resolve
tested once today, and it didn’t falter then either.”

Balthus grinned.  “So, one of my cohorts has been attempting to persuade you to spend eternity with them instead of me?  Well, I suppose I can’t blame them.  I can only hope that you weren’t too tempted.  You should know that, as the prince of my people, there are certain advantages I can offer you that most others could not.”

I blinked to conceal my shock at the discovery that Balthus was the damned prince of the death djinns.  No wonder Moab had reminded me of him; Balthus must be his son!

“Well, considering it was your
king
who attempted to persuade me, I think that my resolve will remain intact—prince or not,” I answered. 

A look of cold fury passed across Balthus’ face before he smoothed his expression back into a semblance of charming amusement.  “I think you would find spending eternity with me much more palatable than you would find spending it with Father.  He is well-known for the ruthlessness of his appetites; I fear you would discover the true meaning of being a slave beneath his tutelage. 

“I, on the other hand, have always found the infliction of pain—although sometimes necessary—much less satisfying than the sharing of pleasure.  And I must admit that I have developed something of a fondness for you, Sydney.  Though any of my people have the right to seek the completion of your contract, I have declared my intention to do so myself.  I am most displeased that my father would disrespect my wishes in this manner.  Thank you for letting me know; I must remember to speak with him about it.”

Oh great, just what I needed—to have the attention of the death djinn king drawn toward me again.  This was going swimmingly.

“I wouldn’t concern myself with it too much if I were you.  I got the feeling he was just toying with me to piss off Sparrow.  He said something about old grudges?”

Genuine humor sparked in Balthus’ eyes.  “Is that so?  Yes, Father’s presence does tend to put Agent Sparrow on edge.  And seeing Father in active pursuit of a contract would certainly have
pissed him off
, as you so eloquently put it.  Maybe I will forgive Father for his interference with my claim on you after all.  If Agent Sparrow was in attendance, he was probably unable to help himself.”

I resisted the urge to ask Balthus about the history between Sparrow and King Moab.  My twenty minutes were ticking, and I was sure his version would be skewed anyway.

“Well, I am happy to have helped resolve a possible family conflict.”  I did my best to temper the sarcasm in my voice.  “But I’m running out of time to chat, and I was hoping you would be willing to answer some questions for me.”

“Your wish is my command, love.”  Balthus’ voice was a guttural purr that sent shivers of anticipation down my spine.  His effect on me was becoming damned annoying.

“I was hoping you could tell me something about the woman whose soul you were arrested for being in possession of,” I continued doggedly.

His eyes widened.  “Now I wonder what your interest in that would be.  Not jealous are you, my pet?”

I tried to school the disgust from my expression, but Balthus’ chuckle told me that I hadn’t been particularly successful. 

I shrugged, hoping he would take my inquiry for innocent curiosity.  “Well, I saw her in the hospital.  She did look a bit like me.”

“Merely a coincidence, I assure you.  As I have already explained to Agent Sparrow and his associates, I won that soul during a game of chance with a goblin.  It was the only thing of worth he had left to offer.  Goblins tend to have a penchant for excessive gambling, you see,” he added instructively, “and this one was no exception—but he was particularly incompetent at it.  He was quite pitiful, actually. 

“Anyhow, when he gave me the soul, it seemed perfectly normal.  I was able to detect that the woman didn’t have any spell casting ability to speak of, but I found her physical form rather lovely and could have made use of her in another, equally enjoyable manner.  So I took her.” 

I wrinkled my nose in distaste, but remained silent.

“When I parted ways with the little cheat of a goblin, I believed I was in possession of the newest addition to my collection of souls.  It was only later, when I called the woman to me and she didn’t appear, that I discovered her lamentable condition. 

“I suppose it would have been wise to question how she came to be in such a state—but I’m afraid that, at the time, I wasn’t able to see past my fury.

“My only thought was to find the little swindler and take my satisfaction in some other way, but to no avail—I hadn’t bothered to ask his name.”  Balthus heaved a sigh, anger darkening his features for a moment.

“I was determined to salvage my loss in some manner, and it was then that I came across you, Sydney.  Your resemblance to that unfortunate woman may have been what drew me to you initially.  But I was quite taken with you from the moment I began following you. 

“And when you wished for death, why it was music to my ears!  I couldn’t believe my luck.  I knew immediately that we were meant to spend eternity together, you and I.  So you see, any physical similarities you share are merely a coincidence.  Or perhaps, if you look at it from my perspective, surely fate must have been at work.”

He fixed me with a heated look that whispered an endless promise of wicked pleasures.  I dropped my gaze, trying hard to ignore him.

“So, you had no idea that the woman’s soul was unaligned from her body?” I asked, forging ahead with growing difficulty.

He was quiet for a moment.  “Look at me, Sydney,” he said softly.

My eyes rose of their own accord.

“I wonder, my love, if you are attempting to prove my guilt or my innocence.  I have no need to steal souls.  Throughout the years, countless mortals have been eager to trade their souls for the wishes I grant, the immortality I bestow, and the security of having their comforts provided for throughout eternity.  It is no idle boast when I tell you that, in your current mortal state, you are incapable of comprehending the extent of the pleasure I can offer you.”