The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2

Sonya Bateman The Getaway

If there was one thing Jazz hated more than birthdays, at the moment, it was Gavyn Donatti — ex-thief, current boyfriend, and completely hopeless co-navigator.

She nosed the sedan to the top of the rise, tyres spinning in the muck. How they’d gotten on to a dirt road was beyond her. Rain battered the roof and sheeted down the windshield, the wipers at top speed barely affording a glance at the few feet of desolate nothing the headlights picked out. No signs, no lights, no goddamn asphalt. No miracle turn-off to this supposed dream cabin.

Only Donatti could get them this lost with a map and detailed directions. Hell, he’d get lost with a GPS and a personal tour guide.

“Your car’s a piece of crap,” she said.

Donatti slouched in the passenger seat. “Sorry, babe,” he muttered. “Haven’t had time to upgrade lately.”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me. We’re lost.”

“No, we’re—” He straightened and peered out the windshield. For a long time. “Okay. We’re lost.”

“How perceptive.” Jazz nudged the shivering car through a series of deep ruts, fighting the jerks and tugs of the wheel. Christ. She’d driven getaway cars at a hundred miles an hour with bullets tearing through the back end and had less trouble than this. The four-banger under the hood ground its gears and let out a couple of disconcerting clacks. “When’s the last time you changed the oil in this thing?”

“Um.”

“Jesus, Donatti. You’ve got to take better care with vehicles.” She refrained from bringing up what he’d done to her van. He knew what she meant. “What happens if we throw a rod out here? I didn’t bring a spare engine.”

He flashed a quick frown. “I’ll fix it.”

“Oh, no. I told you, I don’t trust that magic stuff.”

“Jazz, come on. You know it’s real. You’ve been—”

“No.”

“What do I have to do, turn lead into gold?”

“Nothing. Don’t do anything, okay? In fact, let’s make this a magic-free weekend.” She glared through the dark and the rain. Yes, she was being irrational. Donatti had just found out a few months ago that he was part djinn, and she’d seen him do impossible things. Like make himself invisible. And kill two thugs with one spell. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. For God’s sake, nobody believed in genies, any more than they believed in fairies and unicorns. “Promise me no magic.”

“Fine. I promise.” He let out a sigh. “Look, why don’t you pull over a minute? I’ll see if I can make any sense out of the map.”

Jazz shook her head. “If I get off this mud-bog excuse for a road, we won’t be able to get back on.”

“All right. You’re the boss.”

“Damn straight.” She allowed herself a smirk, but it faded fast. This was a mistake. Celebrating her birthday, which she didn’t give a shit about anyway, at some remote frigging romantic cabin with the thief who’d gotten her pregnant and then vanished for three years, only to turn up again just in time to completely eviscerate the life she’d made with Cyrus.

Okay. Maybe not eviscerate. Disrupt, definitely. Donatti had smoothed things over pretty quickly, and Cy had taken right to his father like he’d been there all along. But between her and Donatti, there was just an old spark. She might have loved him once. Now she wasn’t sure. Hell, she didn’t know anything these days. Sometimes she wanted to strangle him with his own intestines. . but he was adorable even in his incompetence, and she couldn’t stay mad at him for long. He wasn’t bad, really. Just unlucky as hell. And he’d turned out to be a good father, once she’d finally managed to inform him that he was one.

Speaking of Cy, it was late and she hadn’t called to check on things at home. They were supposed to be at the cabin two hours ago. She pointed at the cell phone she’d plugged in to charge and said, “Can you dial the house? Put it on speaker.”

“Sure.”

Jazz realized she’d been gripping the wheel tight enough to cramp her fingers. She forced them to relax. Cy would be fine. She’d left him with Ian and Akila — Ian being the djinn who’d sprung himself on Donatti three months ago saying he was his great-great-great grandfather, or something. Akila, also djinn, was his wife.

The phone wasn’t ringing. Wasn’t making any noise at all. She looked sideways at him. “Did you forget the number?”

“Not exactly.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not getting any bars.”

“Shit!”

“Yeah. Listen, I’m gonna check the map again.”

“You do that,” she muttered, and shifted her concentration back to driving. She didn’t expect him to find anything. Following directions wasn’t one of his strengths. He was more the type to accidentally wind up in the right place — even if it was almost always at the wrong time.

The torrential downpour seemed to be slacking, and the road looked a little wider, a little firmer. That might’ve been wishful thinking. At least the car had stopped trying to fling itself kamikaze-style off the path. There was another little rise ahead. Maybe they’d find a new road on the downgrade. Or Atlantis. With Donatti around, she never knew.

Paper rustled sharply from the passenger seat. “Okay, so did we pass Loon Lake?”

“We passed a lot of lakes, Donatti.”

“I think we did. And we’re looking for Wolf Pond.”

She blew out a breath. “A pond in the Adirondacks. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?”

“You win a cookie.”

“Chocolate chip?”

“Cut the wisecracks. I’m trying to drive.”

He smirked at her. “Can’t have that now. You’ll get a DWL, and that’ll go on your record forever. When they put you away, they’ll make you watch Barney videos and listen to Rico Suave all day in your cell.”

“DWL?” She arched an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

“Driving while laughing. It’s a serious offence in the great state of New York. Have you ever seen a trooper crack a smile?”

She smothered a laugh. Damn, he always managed to make her grin, no matter how bad things got. She actually envied his endless supply of optimism — he could whip out a smartass remark while he was standing at the wrong end of a gun. Maybe he was a little stupid sometimes, but he made up for it with buckets of brass fucking balls. She had to admire that. “Happy troopers? That’d scare the shit out of me,” she finally said.

“Me too.” He maintained the serious-like-a-church-service front. “I actually saw one, once. He was cuffing me at the time.”

“Figures.” She smiled and glanced at the speedometer. The sedan was doing a whopping 24 mph. At this rate, they might make civilization some time before New Year’s. They cleared the rise — and Jazz eased the brakes down, practically gaping through the windshield. “Tell me I’m not seeing things,” she said. “Is that pavement?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Donatti grinned. “See any road signs?”

“Yeah, sure. Right next to that mini mall over there.” She stopped with the front tyres on the paved surface, not in the mood to push this thing out of the mud. Trees to the left, and trees to the right. Nothing in either direction said head-this-way. She flicked the hazards on — as if anyone else would be out driving on East Bumfuck Mountain in this weather — and said, “Okay. Now what, Mister da Gama?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Turn.”

“Brilliant idea. Which way?”

“Hey, don’t look at me.” He folded the map in his hands a few times. “If I pick the wrong way, you’ll kick my ass.”

“I should probably kick your ass anyway. This was your idea.”

Donatti stiffened and stared straight ahead. “Yeah,” he said softly. “How stupid of me, thinking we might have a good time together.”

I’m sorry. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it. Instead, she popped the car into gear and eased into a left turn. “I think this way’s down,” she said. “At least we should hit a crossroad or a sign eventually.”

“You’re the boss.”

Jesus. Did he have to sound like she’d kicked him in the balls? Irritated, more with herself than him, she took the car up to a decent speed and listened to the tyres slice over drenched asphalt. After a long silence, she coughed once and gestured to the radio. “You want that on? It might take a while until we get oriented again.”

“Nah. If there are any stations in range, it’s probably your choice of country, country and western.” He dropped his gaze to his lap. “Jazz, I’m sorry I got us lost.”

His apology where hers should’ve been sent a spark of anger sizzling through her. She managed to throttle it back. “It’s not completely your fault,” she said. “I’m driving.”

“Yeah, well — holy shit. You see that thing up there?”

“What. .” Thing? The rest of the question faded from her lips. The rusted hulk of an old car lay by the side of the road ahead, choked in tangles of weeds. She slowed when they passed it, and gave a low whistle. “That’s a DeSoto. Well, it used to be. Back in the fifties. Jesus, it’s crumpled to hell.”

“Kind of weird, isn’t it? All the way out here?”

“Yes. Weird.” It was damned unsettling. Like finding a horse in a parking garage — or rather, the bleached skeleton of a horse.

The road curved, and when they rounded the bend something shivered in her gut. “There’s another one,” she said. A rusted, twisted auto body overgrown with brown vegetation. This one had come to rest after a collision. “A Mustang. Early seventies.”

Donatti stared at it. “Okay, I’m creeped out,” he said.

“I’m turning around. We’ll go the other way.” She tapped the brake.

The car sped up.

“What the fuck?” Jazz gripped the wheel and tromped on the brake. It didn’t slip, shimmy or sink to the floor. Went down cushioned, like a normal pedal. But the sedan didn’t slow. The speedometer climbed to thirty-five, forty, forty-five. She didn’t dare take her eyes from the road.

“Uh, Jazz?” Donatti’s voice shook a little. “We going for a Dukes of Hazzard turn here?”

“It won’t stop.” She managed to sound calm. “I changed my mind. Use magic.”

“Right.”

They flew past another wreck, too fast to make it out — but definitely a classic car like the rest. She knew it took him a few minutes to do anything magic. It had to warm up or something. The needle climbed. Fifty. Fifty-five. The wheel strained in her hands, and the car tilted.

Ahead, the road curved.

A string of curses refused to pass her lips. She grabbed for the emergency brake, hit the button, and the steering wheel lurched from her grip. She didn’t even have time to shout a warning. With a squeal of rubber, the car spun out of control, rammed something on the shoulder and lifted, airborne.

Her body jerked like a whip, and her head smacked the wheel. The lights went out.

Sunlight and singing birds. The crisp, sweet smell of autumn leaves. All the ingredients for a beautiful fall day hovered just outside Jazz’s closed eyes.

None of them were right. It was raining. Dark. And she’d crashed the car.

Her eyes snapped open, and a startled gasp escaped her. No broken glass or twisted metal. She was on a bed, in a room — not a hospital. Thick log walls. Cabin walls. To her right, french doors stood open on a wooden patio overlooking miles of picturesque mountain forest, red and gold and green. It would’ve taken her breath away if she hadn’t already lost it.

Though her body ached, there was no real pain. She touched fingers to her forehead where she’d cracked the wheel and found smooth, unbroken skin. No bumps or gashes. Had she dreamed the accident? Maybe they’d made it to the stupid cabin after all. But if they had, where was Donatti?

Besides, it’d been too vivid for a dream. So maybe she was dreaming now, and she was actually lying unconscious in the wreckage. Not a cheerful thought.

She sat up slowly. Movement flickered in her peripherals, and her hand went reflexively for the piece she’d stopped carrying after Cy was born. She turned towards the motion, and a figure walked through the french doors.

Definitely not Donatti.

The guy was tall and solid. Dressed in jeans and a dark tee stretched over lean muscle, his steps were practically silent despite the sturdy black leather boots he wore. Shaggy red hair framed angular features and light brown eyes, almost gold, sparkled at her over a sexy-as-hell smile.

A hot guy in a cabin, in the middle of nowhere. This had to be a dream.

“I hope you’re not too frightened,” the guy said. He had a deep, soothing voice, as hypnotic as his eyes. “I couldn’t leave you in your car.”

“Christ, it really happened?” She shivered. Impossible. She’d damn near shattered her skull. Should’ve been in a lot worse shape than this. But she was uninjured and completely clean. Not a speck of dirt or rain anywhere. “Where’s Donatti?”

His smile vanished. “Your friend,” he said, and the sympathy in his tone punched her gut. “I’m afraid he didn’t make it.”

“No.” Not a dream, but a nightmare. The world dimmed and blurred at the edges. She was going to faint. She pinched her arm hard, and the pain snapped everything into too-bright focus. A cabin. A bed. A stranger’s face, lined with terrible sorrow. “He’s not dead,” she whispered. “Not Donatti. He always gets out of everything.”

“I’m so sorry. You’re in shock. I shouldn’t have. .” He hesitated, stepped closer to the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “There was nothing I could do for him.”

Jazz closed her eyes. A sob lodged in her throat, but she choked it back. He couldn’t be dead. She wouldn’t believe it. The force of her denial calmed her enough to breathe evenly, and she focused on the stranger. “Who are you, and where is this?”

His smile eased back in, a tentative curl of his mouth. “My name is Seth, and this is my home. You crashed about a mile from here.”

“But I whacked my head on the wheel.” Donatti’s dead. The words screamed through her, made her wince. She pushed them away. “And I’m not even hurt. Just a little stiff.”

“You weren’t injured when I found you. Only unconscious. Miraculous, really, considering the shape your. . Donatti was in.” Seth flashed a look of heart-melting sympathy. “Maybe you’re remembering the accident wrong. The mind plays tricks when it doesn’t want to recall something, especially trauma.”

She shook her head. “No, I felt it. That’s what knocked me out.”

His brow furrowed. After a few seconds, his features relaxed with a sigh. “We should take things slowly. You’re still a bit muddled,” he said. “I’ve made coffee. Would you like a cup?”

He’d made coffee. Donatti, who’d sleep until noon every day if she didn’t pull the covers off him, had gotten up before her and made the coffee the morning they’d left. She’d stumbled into the kitchen, where he’d greeted her with a steaming mug and that dangerous, adorable excitement — that usually got him into trouble — flooding his blue eyes and spilling into a crooked smile. Road trip, babe, he’d said. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? At least nobody’s chasing us this time.

Yesterday. For fuck’s sake, that was yesterday. And today he was—

Her stomach rebelled, and bitter bile scalded her throat. She bolted from the bed, pushed past a startled Seth and through the open doors, out to the patio railing. Leaned over and puked, emptied everything, dry-heaved again and again. Donatti’s dead. Dee Eee Ay Dee. Deceased. Lifeless. Gone, for good this time.

Her knees buckled and she crumpled to the deck, aching like a sore tooth.

Strong arms went around her, drew her to her feet. “Easy, now,” Seth murmured. “You’re all right. I have you. You’ve got to breathe.”

She let him hold her and tried to obey, snatching deep, shuddering breaths of air. Her head throbbed, the heavy acceptance of Donatti’s death suddenly pushing against everything else she had to worry about — Cyrus, the ruined car, the fact that she was lost in the middle of nowhere with a man she didn’t know. A man who was warm and comforting, and had probably saved her life.

“Bathroom,” she murmured.

He drew back. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I think I. . need a bathroom.”

“Of course.” He rubbed her shoulder, settled a hand at the small of her back and guided her gently inside. He pointed across the bedroom. “Through there, to the right. Can you make it?”

She nodded and hitched a watery smile. “Thank you.”

“Any time.”

Jazz followed his directions and closed herself in a spacious bathroom appointed in rustic splendour. Almost everything was wood, from the walls and floor to the cabinets enclosing the sink and the large corner bathtub. Even the toilet seat was polished wood. At the far wall, sheer curtains covered a block-glass window that stretched from floor to ceiling.

She relieved herself, and the fluttering nausea in her gut abated a little. She’d have to get it together fast. Get hold of Akila and Ian, tell them what happened. Somehow make arrangements to retrieve Donatti’s body.

Jesus. They’d have to bury him. Have a funeral. The thought sent her stomach roiling again.

She fought it, stood and dressed. The shelves by the window caught her eye. Folded towels, soap, bottles of shampoo. And a. . toaster? Frowning, she moved closer and stared. It was an old radio. A 1960s-style transistor, streaked with rust and dented near the top. Beside it was a scratched Polaroid camera with a cracked eye — not the plastic flip-out style, but a metal monster with an accordion lens. The kind that hadn’t been made since the 1970s.

Her mind flashed to the decades-old wrecks they’d passed last night, and a cold splinter lodged in her chest. First classic cars, now this battered old junk. It didn’t make sense.

Neither did waking up unharmed. She knew she’d smashed into the wheel.

She made her way to the sink and turned the faucet on with trembling hands. This was all wrong. And it wasn’t a dream. She washed, splashed water on her face and glanced up, expecting to catch a glimpse of her own disturbed face.

There was no mirror.

With no concrete idea why that bothered her, she dried her face and hands with the towel hanging by the sink and scanned the room. No mirror on the walls or the back of the door. Block glass window. The french doors in the bedroom had been mesh screen panels, framed with more block glass. There were no smooth, reflective surfaces.

The djinn could use reflective surfaces as transporters to move them anywhere in the world that had a mirror or window they could picture in their heads. Donatti could’ve used one to get them home in a few seconds. If he wasn’t dead.

The reminder dizzied her, and she grabbed the sink to keep from falling over. Pull it together, Jazz. She had to get out of here, find other people, phones, transportation. Get away from Seth, before she found out what was wrong with him, with this place. Instinct told her that once she discovered the truth, it’d be too late.

“Was he your husband?”

Jazz, seated at a table in a charming little kitchen that made her want to puke some more, gripped the mug he’d given her and avoided meeting Seth’s eyes. She wanted to tell him not to refer to Donatti in the past tense, but that wouldn’t do any good. “No,” she said. “My. . boyfriend. I guess.”

Seth sat across from her. “You guess?”

“My son’s father. We live together.” Lived together. Grief bubbled through her, and she blinked rapidly as her hands around the coffee cup blurred. She’d never get used to this.

“You have a son?” he said.

“Yes. He’s two. And I need to get home to him.”

Seth didn’t say anything. She looked at him, and the disturbed expression on his face made her cold all over again. “I’m afraid that’s going to be difficult,” he said.

“Why?”

“This place is a good fifty, sixty miles from anywhere. That’s a straight shot, not using the paths. And I don’t own any transportation besides my feet.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No.” He sipped at his own coffee. “I grow or trap everything I eat. This coffee? Made from dandelion roots. Not bad, either.”

“But you have store-made clothes. Shampoo. Dishes.” She wouldn’t mention the radio or the camera. Not until she knew what the hell was going on. Not ever, if she could help it. She’d be long gone as soon as she got something useful from him. “You couldn’t have made those.”

“I have a deal with a couple of forest rangers. They come around once a month, bring me supplies, visit a while.” He frowned again. “They were just here two days ago.”

Shit. No way she’d hang around here for a month. “Well, you must have a phone, right? Or a CB or something. For emergencies. I know somebody who’d come get me.” Much as she hated to admit it, roads or not, Ian could get here. He could fly.

He shook his head. “No reception towers in range. Even if there was, it’s almost impossible to find the place.”

“My friend could find it.”

He gave a gentle laugh. “Maybe you did hit your head.”

“Yeah.” She had, damn it. So why wasn’t she hurt? A horrifying idea occurred to her, one that made her lightheaded and nauseous all over again. “Seth,” she said. “How long have I been here?”

“Just since last night.” He smirked. “And I still don’t know your name.”

Last night. So she hadn’t been unconscious for weeks, at least. For some reason that didn’t bring much relief. “It’s Jazz,” she said.

“Jazz. With the beautiful eyes.”

Her breath caught. She’d always hated her eyes — they were different colours. One brown, one green. Donatti had loved them. Called them her goddess gaze, with the same unmistakable husky tone Seth had just used. The one that said he wished for a private room and a few hours alone. She and Donatti hadn’t gotten much of that since he came back. Now they never would.

“I’m sorry,” Seth said before she could get good and annoyed. “That was uncalled for.”

“I want to see the wreck.”

He stared at her. “The what?”

“The car. The crash site. Donatti.” Her throat closed around his name. “I just can’t believe he’s. . gone. I have to see.” And maybe she could salvage her cell phone. If she could, she’d walk the paved road, in the direction she should’ve chosen, until she got a signal.

Damn it. If she’d just turned around at the first sign of weirdness, that ghostly overgrown DeSoto, Donatti would still be alive. She’d killed him. And gotten herself more lost than he ever could have.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She should’ve apologized. She owed him that.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Seth spoke gently, as if comforting a child. “It’s not pretty, Jazz. Not at all.”

She glared across the table. “I want to see him. Take me there.”

“Okay.” He held up a hand. “I’ll take you. But please, relax for a few minutes. Drink your coffee. I’ll fix something to eat, and then we’ll go.”

She didn’t want any goddamn coffee. She wanted to go home, to hold her baby and find some way to tell him his daddy was never coming back, to share her grief with someone who knew her, knew Donatti. But Seth had agreed to take her, and being pushy or demanding might change his mind. She’d never find it without him.

“All right,” she finally said, and added, “Thank you,” because it seemed appropriate.

He smiled tentatively. “Toast okay?”

“Perfect.” She managed to smile back.

While he stood and walked to a cupboard, Jazz eyed the mug suspiciously. Dandelion coffee, huh? She half expected to see little yellow petals floating in it. But it looked like coffee, and smelled like coffee. She raised it to her mouth and took a tentative sip.

It tasted like heaven.

“My God,” she murmured. Another swallow, and the taste coated her throat — silky smooth, nutty and sweet, better than anything Starbucks ever dreamed about serving. And somehow, familiar. “This is dandelions?”

“Mountain grown. The best kind,” Seth said without turning.

“It’s fantastic.” She’d tasted this before. Impossible, but she knew the flavour. She drank again, trying to remember. It seemed important.

Her eyelids grew heavy. At once, she wanted nothing more than to stretch out, right here on the table, and close them. But she shouldn’t want that. “Seth,” she said thickly. “I think. .”

He turned, and his concerned features appeared to distort. “Maybe you should rest before we go,” he said. “Just for a little while. You’ve had such a hard night.”

“Rest,” she slurred. “I need rest.”

You need to get out! He’s drugged you!

Even if her mind had managed to grasp the warning, her body couldn’t obey. She slid smoothly into sleep, the mug falling from her fingers and toppling on the table. An errant phrase, stark and baffling, imprinted on her thoughts just before she dropped into unconsciousness.

The nectar of the gods.

Somebody was banging on the door.

“Go ’way,” Jazz muttered, pulling a pillow over her sickly throbbing head. Good lord, what had she done last night? This was one killer fucking hangover.

Killer. Last night, she’d crashed the car. Killed Donatti. And was in a remote, inaccessible cabin with a lunatic who’d drugged her to sleep.

She bolted upright. Same bedroom, same french doors, still wide open on an expanse of woods that glowed a rich gold in the slant of late afternoon light. Seth hadn’t tried to lock her in. Probably because he knew she had nowhere to go if she ran. So he hadn’t been lying about the miles-from-nowhere thing.

The pounding came again, from the front of the cabin. No sign of Seth answering the door. Maybe he was the one banging — but why would he knock at his own place? Sluggish hope stirred in her. She got up and headed out of the room, holding her breath. Maybe the rangers had found the car, and come back to see if Seth knew anything about it.

The bastard knew a lot about it. Too much.

She passed through a hall, the kitchen, a den and into a living room. Didn’t see Seth anywhere. There, the front door. More knocking sounded as she approached it — shorter, weaker. Like whoever was out there had decided nobody was home, but they’d try one more time anyway.

Halfway across the room, she froze. She had no idea who or what was on the other side of that door. It could be a friend of Seth’s, even an accomplice. She scanned the room for something useful and weapon-like, spotted a fireplace and a neatly corralled set of iron tools beside it. Perfect. She crossed to it, grabbed the heavy poker and went back to the door.

A thud from outside shook the house.

Drawing the poker back for a quick strike, Jazz turned the knob and yanked the door open. For a split second she saw no one. Then she spotted a bedraggled figure leaning on the outer wall, just to the left of the jamb.

Male, filthy, gasping for breath. Bruised and bloodied.

Donatti. Alive.

The poker fell from her numb fingers. She rushed out to him, unable to speak. Embraced him mud, blood and all. He was soaked, fever-hot beneath his torn clothes. But so real. So very not dead.

“Jazz. Thank God.” He strained to speak, returned the embrace one-armed. “Knew I’d find you. Sorry it. . took so long.”

The thousand questions she wanted to ask would have to wait. “We’ve got to get out of here,” she said. “Can you walk?”

He gave a rusty laugh. “Walked here. Would prefer to stop walking now.”

“Sorry. Short version — the guy who lives here told me you were dead, and drugged me when I said I wanted to see the wreck.”

“So. . no hot shower, huh. No soft bed.”

“No. And no mirrors or windows. Just block glass.”

He focused on her, blue eyes filling with shock. “What?”

“Yeah. I didn’t like it, either.” She kissed him, fast and urgent. “I’m sorry, Donatti. Don’t ask why. I’ll tell you later.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “You’re the boss.”

“Right.” She hesitated, then moved to the door and picked up the poker. “I’m bringing this. Can you find your way back to the car?”

“Think so.” He frowned. “Why? It’s totalled. Can’t even fix it with magic.”

“My phone,” she said. “Hopefully, it’s not too busted. Maybe you can fix that if it is. And we’ll just keep going until we get a signal, and call Ian.”

“Good plan.” He moved a step forward, groaned and dropped to his knees. “Then again, maybe not.”

Jazz bit her lip. She hated to force him into this, ached to see him so battered, but they couldn’t stay here. Seth obviously didn’t want Donatti around. He’d left him for dead. “You got a better one?” she said.

“No.” Jaw clenched, he struggled to one knee and got on his feet. “Let’s go. I feel great. We’ll run a marathon.”

She blinked back tears and grabbed his hand. “You’re a lousy liar, Donatti.”

“Yep. Right this way, lady.”

He led her off the porch, across a small lawn towards the beginnings of a thin forest. A worn dirt path, barely visible through dead leaves and browned pine needles, trickled between skinny pines and young maples. Donatti limped along at first, but managed to gain an almost normal walking pace.

Just as they set foot on the path, laughter rumbled and echoed through the air around them, as though it came from the mountain itself.

“That’s Seth,” Jazz whispered. “The crazy guy. How. .”

“You survived,” the rolling voice said. “How entertaining. Let the games begin.”

A chill drizzled down her spine. “Oh, fuck,” she said. “I remember now. The drink he gave me. The nectar of the gods.” She swallowed, and it felt like a mouthful of rusted nails. “Akila made it for me a few times. Donatti. . I think Seth is a djinn.”

More cold laughter pelted them. “Run, rabbits. Find a hole and hide. I’ll seek you.”

Somehow, they ran.

It wasn’t long before the flight was aborted. Donatti tripped over an exposed root, went down hard and didn’t get up. “Gotta stop a minute,” he muttered into the ground. “Sorry, babe.”

Jazz glanced back. At least they were out of sight of the cabin. She crouched next to him, helped him crawl to the nearest tree and sit propped against it, cringing when he winced at her touch. “How bad is it?” she said softly.

“Don’t know. Couple busted ribs, a bum arm. Don’t think it’s broken. Hurts like hell, though.”

“Which one?”

He nodded at his left shoulder.

“Let me look.” She eased the torn remains of his jacket down the arm and saw the problem. “It’s dislocated,” she said. “I can put it back. You’ll feel a little better.”

“Go for it.”

She straightened his arm and bent the elbow up. “This is going to hurt.”

He grunted. “Figures.”

“Try to relax.”

“Got any booze?”

“Fresh out.”

“Okay. I’ll just man up and faint.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

She debated doing it the fast way — a lot of pain, over quickly. But she didn’t want to do any more damage if she could help it. The slow way was just as painful and drawn out, with a lot less chance of tearing muscle or ligaments. She grabbed his wrist, moved his hand against his chest and rotated arm and shoulder out slowly. He hissed through clenched teeth, let out a guttural shout when she hit full extension.

It took three tries to set the joint back. By the time she finished, sweat bathed his face and washed away some of the grime. “Oh, Christ,” he gasped. “Thank. . you. .”

“I did warn you.”

“No, I mean it’s better. A hundred times better. Shit, I think I really can run a marathon now.” He grinned at her. “Or at least walk one. Just have to. . sit a minute.”

“I’ll join you.” She plopped on the ground next to him and scanned the area, taking in the increasing density of the trees, the waning light. They had maybe an hour before full dark. Should be able to make a mile. Of course, they also had no idea what Seth was planning. “Maybe we should talk. Try to figure things out,” she said. “Let’s start with you.”

Donatti pulled himself straighter. “Well, I couldn’t make anything happen to the car,” he said. “I tried, but it was resisting or something. Then I got knocked out in the crash.”

Jazz frowned. “Resisting?”

“Yeah. Pushing me back, kind of. Damn. Ian’s really going to have to explain this magic stuff better.” He paused, winced and pressed a hand to his ribs. “Anyway, when I came around, you were gone. I freaked out. Got away from the car — think I was screaming for you. And while I was flopping around in the mud, an animal attacked me. A fox. Big one.” His brow furrowed. “Thing went straight for my throat. Not very fox-like. I thought maybe I was hallucinating.”

She understood where his thoughts were going. The djinn were born into clans named after animals, because they could assume their clan’s animal form. Ian was Dehbei, the wolf clan. She’d seen him go wolf once. Huge, beautiful, deadly wolf. And as a more-or-less human, he had shaggy, wolf-coloured hair, and a wolf’s eyes. “Seth has red hair,” she said. “And his eyes are. . well, like a fox’s.”

“Motherfucker.” His jaw firmed. “Djinn can only kill humans when they’re animals. He told you I was gone because he thought I was. He sure as hell tried to make it that way.”

“So how’d you get out of it?”

He smirked. “I played dead. You’re supposed to do that with bears. Thought it might work for a fox. Apparently it works with a djinn, too.” One hand went to his throat. “Bastard tore me a good one. Blood everywhere. I think. . I tried to heal myself. Must’ve done something right.”

“You’re not completely hopeless.”

“Coming from you, that’s a compliment.” He reached for her hand, and she gave it to him. “I could feel you,” he said hoarsely. “That’s how I found you. It was like you were whispering in my ear.”

“Oh, yeah?” She squeezed his hand. “What was I saying?”

“Let’s see. It was something like, ‘Get your ass here, right now, before I kick it all the way back upstate.’”

Her own laughter surprised her. “Yeah, that does sound like me,” she said.

“So there’s my story,” he said. “What’s yours?”

She told him everything, from waking up in the cabin bedroom thinking it was a dream, to realizing too late that she’d been drugged. “Those things he has in the bathroom. The radio, the camera,” she said. “They threw me when I thought he was just a guy who couldn’t be more than thirty. But he’s djinn.”

“And djinn don’t age,” Donatti said. “He wrecked the car. That was the resistance. How much you want to bet he did the same thing with those other cars we saw?”

“Jesus,” she whispered. “And the passengers. .”

“Let’s not stick around long enough to find out what he does with them.”

The woods were strangely silent. Other than a faint wind rustling dry leaves and their own steps on the forest floor, there was nothing. Not a single creaking branch or calling bird. No signs of other life.

They’d been walking for about fifteen minutes when Jazz slowed and came to a stop beside a big fir tree. “Donatti,” she said. “Does this look familiar to you?”

“No. It’s a goddamn tree. We’re surrounded by trees, and—” He looked closer. His gaze found what she’d noticed already, the lower branch that was broken and splintered at the trunk, hanging at a sharp angle, almost touching the ground. “We passed this before,” he said.

“Yeah. We just walked in a big fucking circle.” She kicked at the ground, spraying a cloud of dead needles in the air. “This is still the path you came up, right? So apparently it’s changed directions in the past few hours.”

Something rustled in the brush ahead. A flash of red fur darted between branches and vanished again. The bastard was following them.

“Son of a bitch.” Jazz gripped the poker two-handed and strode for the brush.

Donatti grabbed her. “Whoa, killer,” he said. “That doesn’t work with djinn. Remember?”

“Yeah. I can’t take him out. But it’ll still hurt when I smash his fucking skull.” She’d always taken care of herself, so being defenceless pissed her off. Regular people couldn’t kill a djinn. In order to enter the human realm, they had to be bound to an object, a tether. And only destroying the tether would destroy the djinn. You could empty a machine gun into one and he — or she — would live through it. Since Donatti was only part djinn, he’d still die like a human.

Of course, he could destroy the djinn. With magic. That pissed her off, too.

“Don’t,” he murmured. “I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need this guy.”

“Why? You planning to make a coat out of him?”

“Let’s keep walking.” He tried to guide her ahead. She resisted. He frowned. “Jazz, please. Trust me.”

Right. Trust the man who couldn’t plan a takeout dinner without an instruction book and a personal coach. The man who’d ditched her, almost gotten her arrested, left her alone and pregnant, then damn near gotten her killed when he popped back into her life like nothing had happened.

The man who saved my life, and Cy‘s, when a djinn tried to kill us. The man I was just crying over a few hours ago when I thought he was dead.

Damn it. Maybe she did love him.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll trust you. This time.”

“Your confidence is overwhelming.” He led her back to the faded thread of the path, and lowered his voice to a whisper while they walked. “Listen, I don’t want him to know about my. . uh, abilities yet,” he said. “I think we’re gonna have to outsmart this guy.”

“Great. We’re dead, then.”

“Thanks a lot.” He scowled, but the expression changed to a smile when he caught the laughter in her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve got an idea. Hopefully it’ll stop us from walking in circles.”

“I hope it works fast,” she muttered. “We’re losing daylight, and—” Something rustled behind them. Jazz whirled around, reflexively bringing the poker back over her shoulder, ready to swing.

The fox sat on the path, twenty feet away, watching them with glittering eyes and a grin that was almost human. The thing was so big, it made her head hurt. There weren’t any foxes the size of Saint Bernards. The longer she stared at it, the more she wanted to. .

Go to him. Stroke his fur. Lie down on the cool ground and let him warm you, soothe you.

“Wrong way, babe.” Donatti’s low, urgent voice snapped her back. “Keep moving. Don’t look at it.”

For a few seconds her feet wouldn’t obey the command to walk. She managed a step, then another, and the small victories shattered the remains of the trance. She moved. But she couldn’t resist a quick glance behind them.

The fox was gone.

She shuddered. Should’ve been used to things disappearing by now, but it still creeped her out. “So, what are we doing?” she whispered.

“Well.” He stared straight ahead, like he didn’t want to tell her. “Djinn magic works on need, right? So I figured if I really needed to find the car, we’d find it.”

“That’s your big idea?”

“Yeah. You got a better one?”

She sighed. “No. Unless you’ve got a helicopter up your ass.”

“I keep telling Ian we need one of those, but he won’t listen. Maybe you can talk him into it.”

“Right. And maybe I could convince Charles Manson to take up knitting.” Ian had been royalty or something, back in the djinn realm before he came here. Nobody talked him into anything. Except Akila, and even she didn’t win half the time.

They walked in silence while the sun slipped low and stuffed the woods full of deeper shadows. Still no sign of the road, or any indication of a break in the forest, but at least they didn’t seem to be passing the same places. Maybe Donatti’s crazy idea was working.

“Poor little lost rabbits.”

Seth’s voice broke the stillness. At least it wasn’t a booming echo this time. Jazz glanced around, didn’t see him anywhere. Then she faced forward and spotted him standing on a thick branch, halfway up a tree loaded with blazing red leaves. “We’re not lost, asshole,” she said.

Donatti elbowed her. “On’t-day alk-tay im-hay,” he muttered.

She gaped at him. “You’re not serious. Pig latin?”

“Shh.”

She rolled her eyes and shut her mouth. Looked back at the tree. No Seth.

“Oh, but you are.”

This time the voice came from the right, and Seth popped into view perched on a moss-covered boulder. He laughed. “By all means, keep going this way. Have fun when you get to the gorge.”

He was fucking with them. Had to be.

Didn’t he?

“Jazz.” Behind them now, his voice a seductive swirl. “You don’t have to die out here with him. Come with me. I’ll take care of you.”

Donatti squeezed her hand. She kept walking. Didn’t look back.

Seth materialized ahead of them. Grinning. “It’s a long drop down the gorge,” he said. “You won’t see it in the dark. If you survive the fall, I hope you can swim.”

“Fuck off,” Donatti snarled.

Seth’s mouth opened, and laughter oozed out like blood. He faded into nothing.

Jazz waited a few minutes. “I thought you said don’t talk to him.”

“So sue me.”

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Hmph.” He coughed once, slowed and pointed ahead. A grin eased on to his lips. “I’m cuter when I’m right.”

She followed the gesture — and saw the wide swath cutting through the trees, just visible in the fading light. It had to be the road. “I’ll be damned,” she said. “It worked.”

“You can thank me later.”

They made their way to the clearing. No stretch of pavement ever looked so beautiful. She would’ve knelt down and kissed asphalt if there wasn’t a witness. “So the bastard was just trying to confuse us,” she said. “Gorge, my—”

A strangled gasp from Donatti cut her mid-curse. She followed his stricken gaze, and saw the obliterated wreck down the shoulder on the opposite side of the road. Not the sedan, but a mid-1960s Impala, weathered and weed-choked. And bursting from the shattered windshield, lying spread-eagled on the hood with legs still inside the car, was an aged and decimated human corpse.

Jazz stared at her feet until she was sure she wouldn’t vomit. “Well,” she said in a choked rasp. “You did find a car.”

They still had to get to the sedan. It was on the road somewhere. Even if there might’ve been a chance at finding something useful in the Impala, Jazz wasn’t about to go looking through it. This time, she let Donatti pick the direction.

Of course, he decided they had to go past the dead guy.

As they walked past the wreck, Donatti wore a look she recognized, and wasn’t too happy about. It was an echo of the look of furious determination Ian always wore right before the two of them headed off to destroy one of the evil snake djinn, the Morai. On such missions there was always a chance they wouldn’t come back alive.

“You’re thinking about being a hero, aren’t you?” she said.

His mouth slashed a firm line. “He’s killing people up here. We have to stop him.”

“By ourselves?” It wasn’t like she’d been opposed to the whole Morai extermination thing. She’d seen what they were capable of doing, to humans and to other djinn. Plus, they turned into snakes. She hated snakes. Hell, she’d more or less encouraged Donatti to help Ian when it turned out he was the only one who could. But Ian’s magic was a lot stronger and more reliable. Of the few things Donatti could do, he’d only perfected invisibility. None of his spells ever went the way he planned them. “Maybe we should get Ian before we try to take this guy on,” she said.

He didn’t answer right away, but she could feel the anger radiating from him. Finally, he sighed and said, “I guess you’re right.”

She offered a sympathetic grimace. “You know, Donatti, I understand how it feels.”

“What, chicks get penis envy too?”

She laughed. “Not exactly. I meant. . being helpless. Not having what it takes and knowing it. It’s frustrating as hell.”

“Yeah. Nothing like a case of magic blue balls to get the blood pumping.” He gave her a one-armed hug. “I’m sorry you have to go through this so much. Believe me, if I could give this stuff away, you’d have it.”

“No, thanks. I like being normal.”

“Babe, you are anything but normal.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Yeah.” He grinned and rubbed her arm. “It is.”

They rounded a curve and found the ruined sedan on the shoulder, its crumpled hood nosed against a tree. Broken glass, plastic fragments and snarled bits of metal sprayed across the pavement. The driver’s side door lay on the ground in front of the car, hinges torn and twisted, its window and mirror completely shattered.

In fact, every bit of glass on the car had been reduced to pieces.

Trying to ignore the stone weight in her gut, Jazz leaned the poker against the side of the sedan and crawled carefully into the driver’s seat. She grabbed the wheel to steady herself, and felt the tacky residue of what had to be her blood. She’d definitely hit it hard. At least she’d remembered that right.

The coiled charger cord was still plugged into the lighter socket. With the last faint light dying outside, she couldn’t make out much else beyond shadows. She picked the cord up, already knowing from the non-weight that the phone wasn’t attached any more, even before she saw the bare jack. It must’ve slid down on the floor somewhere. She hoped.

“Donatti,” she called. “You have a flashlight in here?”

“Glove box. There should be a few of those packages of mini-donuts there, too.”

She glanced back at him. “You’re thinking about food? Now?”

“Hey, I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I’m starving.”

Her stomach rumbled suddenly, as though the idea of starving had kicked off a protest in there somewhere. She hadn’t even thought about eating until he mentioned it. Practically salivating, she reached over, popped the compartment open and felt inside. It was empty.

“Fuck!”

“What, right now?”

“Can it, Donatti.” She forced a giggle into a snort. There he went again, making her laugh when she wanted to cry. She backed out and brushed at the debris clinging to her jeans. “There’s nothing in there. The box wasn’t damaged in the crash, but the stuff’s gone.”

“Oh. That kind of ‘fuck’.” Frowning, he circled the sedan and stared at the trunk. “See if this’ll pop?”

She reached down and pulled the release. There was a heavy clunking sproing, and the trunk eased open a crack.

Donatti wrenched it open and swore. “Okay, our bags are gone, too. So’s the jack and tyre iron. And my gear. Damn it, I’m getting sick of re-buying that pick set.”

“Gear? You’re supposed to be retired.”

“I am. I just. . like to practice. Keep the skills up.”

She folded her arms. “How can you practise stealing?”

“You still drive.”

“That’s different. And you didn’t answer the question.”

There was a hollow thump, and Seth appeared on the buckled roof of the car. “Are we having a lover’s spat?” he said. “By all means, don’t let me interrupt.”

Jazz backed slowly towards Donatti, keeping the poker hidden behind her back. Hopefully he’d keep his mouth shut about the weapon. “We still ignoring him?” she said when she reached him.

“No. Where’s our shit, mountain man?”

Seth gave an exaggerated shrug. “Could be anywhere,” he said. “Lots of wild animals around here. Scavengers. Bears, wolves. . foxes.”

“Uh-huh. Every fox needs a cellphone, right?”

“Is that what you’re trying to find?” Grinning, Seth leaped lightly to the ground. “I thought you might be looking for that interesting little set of tools in the black case. Thief.”

“Ex-thief,” Donatti said. “Retirement’s great. You should think about retiring from the psycho racket.”

“Oh, I’m not crazy.” Seth’s gaze fastened on Jazz, and dizziness washed through her. “It gets so cold on the mountain at night.” He moved toward them, not sparing Donatti a second glance. “Come with me, Jazz. I’ll keep you warm. We’ll embrace in front of a roaring fire, you and me. Forever.” In the near-dark, he seemed to glow.

Lip curled, Jazz brought the poker around and swung it full-force against his skull. He dropped like a rock. “Embrace that, asshole,” she said.

Donatti coughed. “Whoa. Nice one, babe. Not exactly what I had in mind, but that’ll work.”

“What did you have in mind, insulting him to death?” She lowered the poker, ran a hand through her hair. “Besides, he was going to change. And probably try to kill you again.” All the djinn started glowing right before they transformed.

He grinned. “My hero.”

“Shut up.”

“Right.” He glanced down at Seth, who hadn’t moved. It looked like he wasn’t even breathing — but he was far from dead. Eventually he’d come around and heal himself. And then he’d be really angry. “Guess we’d better get going before he wakes up,” Donatti said.

“Uh-huh. And what’s the plan now? We can’t reach Ian, and it’s fifty miles to anything.”

“Not exactly. There’s one place we can get to.”

It took a few seconds to sink in. “You can’t be serious.”

“Easiest way to catch a fox is in its den.”

She opened her mouth, closed it. “That might actually be a smart idea.”

“Yeah. It’s gotta be a fluke. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

Damn it, why did he have to be so frigging cute? As much as she bashed his constant, often ridiculous jokes, nobody ever made her laugh like he did. For the first time, she actually wished they had made it to the cabin — because right now, she’d be dragging him to the bedroom. If they made it that far. “Okay,” she said. “But there’s two problems. One, I can barely see you now, and it’s going to be pitch black in a few minutes. Don’t know about you, but my night vision’s shot.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, maybe I can do that flame-ball thing Ian does.”

I doubt it. Since saying that wouldn’t exactly boost his confidence, she opted for a cheerful tone that fell flat. “Can’t hurt to try.”

He fell silent. Probably trying to concentrate. After a minute, there was a dim glow that brightened steadily — not floating over his hands, where Ian usually formed a light, but coming from the front end of the wrecked car.

Brow furrowed, she circled around and looked. The intact left headlight burned at full strength, cutting a path through the darkness ahead.

Donatti came up behind her. “Guess my magic’s a little more modern than Ian’s.”

“Hey, it’s a light.” She grinned at him. “Think you can keep it going if I take it out?”

“I hope so.”

She crouched to take a look. It was an older car, with a one-piece headlamp instead of a halogen bulb and lens. It’d provide a more focused light than a bare bulb, but it might be a bitch getting it out. “You don’t happen to have a dime, do you?”

He reached in a pocket, came out with a handful of coins and pinched a dime free. “Change from the donuts,” he said. “Which I didn’t even get to eat.”

She took it and started on the first screw. “If we get out of this, I’ll make you some donuts.”

“You can make donuts? With ingredients and stuff?” There was something that suspiciously resembled awe in his voice. “Oh my God, I love you.”

“I make a mean funnel cake, too.”

“You’re killing me. I’m going to drown in my own drool.”

She managed to get all four screws out, and pulled the metal frame loose. The hood was already open a few feet, so she reached inside and yanked the plug free from the back of the headlamp. The light still shone. If she didn’t know it was magic, she would’ve freaked a little. “Here,” she said, handing it to Donatti. “All right. How long do you think he’ll be out?”

He shrugged. “You put a nice dent in his head. I’d guess a while.”

“Might not be long enough. We’ll need time to do. . whatever we’re doing.” She retrieved the poker from the ground. “Maybe I should whack him a few more times.”

Donatti shuddered hard enough to shake the light. He’d always been opposed to violence. Didn’t even like to swat flies. A strange trait for a criminal. “You sure you have to do that?”

“We’ve got to keep him from following us, for as long as we can.”

“I guess.” He frowned. “So the light thing’s taken care of. What’s the other problem?”

“He keeps finding us,” she said. “If surprising him is the only advantage we have, we’ve got to keep him from expecting us at his place. Throw him off our. . scent.” She moved towards the car, a glimmer of inspiration forming. “He’s a fox, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So he’s probably tracking us by scent.” She reached through the door-shaped gap in the driver’s side and felt under the seat until her fingers brushed cool metal, and dislodged a black aerosol can. “Pepper spray,” she said.

He laughed. “What are you doing with that?”

“Last resort for a getaway, in case I get pulled over and made.”

“You’re supposed to be retired.”

“Why do you think I didn’t break your teeth for hanging on to your pick set?” She smiled and gestured at the unconscious Seth. “So. . dose him in the face?”

“Hell yeah.”

“If he moves, I’m clocking him.”

“Deal.”

She strode over, spray in one hand, poker in the other. Holding the can a foot from the unconscious djinn’s face, she pulled the trigger and held until the stuff covered him like a wet mask.

He moved. She clocked him, and he stopped.

She tucked the spray in a pocket and went back to Donatti, who was staring at the sky, the wreck — anywhere but at the bloodied figure on the ground. “I’m done now,” she said, unable to hold back a smirk. “We can head out any time.”

“Now’s good.” He grabbed her hand. “Don’t let go, okay?”

“Never.”

With the fading light and Donatti’s slightly improved needing-to-find-something spell, they made good time back to the cabin. Seth had left some lights on. On the plus side, they’d be able to look around without arousing suspicion if he happened to come back. But the lights also meant that if he snuck up on them while invisible, he’d see them right away.

Donatti ditched the headlamp. They went to the front door, expecting to find it locked, but it opened right up. Surprised, Jazz took a closer look. There was no deadbolt, no chain, not even an entry latch on the knob. He couldn’t have locked it if he wanted to.

Of course, he didn’t have to worry about uninvited guests. The only people who showed up here were the ones he sabotaged.

“Okay. Here’s what I’m thinking,” Donatti said. “We find his tether and I threaten to destroy him unless he helps us get back to civilization. He’s got to have some way to move. Then, we get Ian and figure out what we should do with this guy.”

Jazz frowned. “How about we find his tether, you skip the threat part and just destroy him?”

“I’m not killing anybody if I can help it,” he said. “This guy isn’t Morai. I don’t know enough about him to make that decision.”

“And if he doesn’t let us go?”

He closed his eyes. “Then I guess I’ll have to go through with it,” he said. “But destroying him is the absolute last thing I’m going to try.”

“Fine. As long as it’s somewhere on your list.” Her conscience muttered a protest and she told it to shut up. She’d always held the opinion that if someone was about to kill you, you had every right to kill them first. And she’d exercised that right more than once. Lately, though, Donatti’s insistence that killing could and should be avoided almost every time — coupled with the fact that he was still alive — had been chipping away at her beliefs. As if she didn’t have enough guilt to deal with. “All right, what are we looking for?” she said.

“It’ll be something metal and relatively small. Not a car or a fridge. Something that looks like it belongs in a museum.”

“So it wouldn’t be a 1960s radio.”

He shook his head. “Djinn don’t have radios. Whatever it is, it’ll have come from their realm. A coin, a dagger, a piece of jewellery.”

“Right.”

They stayed together. The living room turned up nothing, in plain sight, under the furniture cushions, or buried in the ashes of the fireplace. In the kitchen, one cabinet held exactly enough dishes for two people, another was filled with cardboard canisters of salt and most of the rest were empty save for a few canned goods, a bag of flour and a box of sugar. The fridge and freezer contained plastic jugs of water and unlabelled lumps of foil-wrapped meat. Deer, Jazz told herself firmly. Anything else was unthinkable.

The only out-of-place items in the bathroom were the ones she’d noticed the first time. That left the bedroom. There, they lifted the mattress, shook out the pillows, opened and removed every drawer in the small dresser, poked and prodded a closet for hidden panels. Nothing. Not even a suspicious dust bunny.

“So much for leverage.” Jazz sat down slowly on the bed. “Maybe we should start walking now. We could make fifty miles in a couple of days, if that road actually goes anywhere. And if Seth doesn’t find us.”

“He will.” Donatti crossed to the screened french doors, closed against the cool night. “What’s out here?”

“A deck, and a billion trees.”

He opened the doors and walked out. She heard him clomping around on the plank floor, his steps moving away, pausing, coming back. He stuck his head in. “Think I found something.”

“Tell me it’s a Hummer.” Christ, what she wouldn’t give for an off-road vehicle right now. Anything, even a little puddle-jumper Jeep but she’d sell her soul for a Hummer.

“Sorry. You’ll have to settle for the consolation prize. Come out here.”

Reluctantly, she stood and followed him. He led her to the left side of the deck and gestured, over the rail and down. “Bet you a dollar there’s something good in there.”

It was a storm cellar. Double wooden doors angled up from the ground, held shut with a hasp and padlock.

Jazz smiled. “Race you.” Before he could react, she vaulted over the rail and landed on the ground five or six feet below, bending her knees to absorb the impact.

“Do I look like Olympic-quality material to you?” Donatti practically groaned. “Guy’s been here at least five decades. Should’ve built some goddamn stairs on this thing by now.” He threw one leg over the railing, struggled to bring the other one around, and slid into the drop, stumbling when he hit the dirt.

“Can you make it to the doors, or should I fashion you a makeshift crutch out of sticks and vines?”

“Ha. Ha.” He walked over to the cellar and inspected the padlock, then straightened and patted various pockets. “Gotta have something. . ah. Have this open in a sec.” He worked a slender length of metal free from the hem of his jacket. A lock shim. “Emergency supply,” he said with a grin.

She watched him work the lock, mentally ticking off the time. When the arm popped, she said, “Twenty-two seconds. I’m impressed.”

“I’d be impressed if I could figure out a way to close it back up from the inside.” He slid the lock out, popped the clasp and replaced it on the hook. “Oh, well. Here we go.”

He pulled one door open, then the other. Inside was a rough wooden staircase, descending into darkness beyond the pale wash of light cast from the bedroom. There was a darkened light bulb with a pull chain mounted at the top of the doorway. Donatti walked down steps until he could reach the chain, and turned the light on.

They descended to an opening framed with rough planks of lumber. Donatti had to stoop to get through, but Jazz had a few inches of clearance. Being five-foot-nothing came in handy sometimes. Through the doorway was a small, earth-cooled room. Enough light came in from the stairwell to make out the shapes of several dead animals hanging from the walls — rabbits, birds, a skinned deer. Seth’s meat locker.

“Yummy,” Donatti said. “Dinner.”

“I’m not even close to hungry enough for raw meat.” Jazz scanned the place for a switch or a bulb. Didn’t see a light, but she did see the other door, knobless and detectable only by the small hinges set flush with the boarded walls. “There,” she said, and pointed.

Nodding, Donatti moved to the door and pushed it open without resistance. The light wouldn’t stretch through the doorway. He felt along the inside, flicked something, and a glow sputtered and steadied.

“Holy Christ,” he said. “Seth must be part squirrel.”

He walked through and stepped aside, giving her a view of the room. It was bigger than the meat locker, the wood walls sanded and stained. And it was full of. . stuff.

She went in and closed the door behind her. It was hard to decide where to start processing everything in here. There was a stack of tyres arranged by size, biggest to smallest. An intact leather-finish bucket seat, probably from the DeSoto. Three mismatched bumpers mounted vertically on the back wall. A pair of fuzzy dice and a coon-tail antenna decoration. Four old suitcases arranged side-by-side on top of a steamer trunk. Three folding metal TV trays — one with pairs of sunglasses, another with wrist and pocket watches, the third containing rings, necklaces, bracelets and earrings. None of the jewellery was ancient or museum-worthy.

And then there were the dummies.

Six life-sized carved wooden figures lined up along the left-hand wall. Four female, two male. Each of them was dressed in clothing that wasn’t sold in department stores any more. The mannequins wore 1950s and 1960s dress — bellbottoms, a crinoline skirt, shirts with ruffles and checked patterns and butterfly collars and tie-dye. One of the males wore a houndstooth suit.

This stuff sure as hell hadn’t come from a vintage shop.

“Looks like this is the luggage department.” Donatti was in front of the suitcases. He moved them to the floor and opened the steamer trunk. “Thought so. Here’s our bags.”

“See if my phone’s in there.” Jazz tore her gaze from the dummies and drifted to the stack of tyres, trying to shake off a serious case of chills. She wanted to believe that the clothes came from the suitcases, and not from the bodies of people who’d crashed up here; that the carvings were just random figures, and not likenesses of Seth’s victims.

She concentrated on finding something that resembled a tether. All the tyres were mounted on rims, so he couldn’t have stashed it inside one. While Donatti rifled through the contents of the trunk, she opened the suitcases one by one. All empty. She moved back to the TV tables and stared at the jewellery, as though she could intimidate one of the pieces into being what they needed.

“I found your phone,” Donatti said. “Sort of.”

She turned to him, and he held out a handful of plastic shards and broken circuitry.

“Son of a bitch,” she said.

“Yeah. I think it’s safe to say I can’t fix it.” He let the debris fall back into the trunk and glanced across the room. “Man, those things are creepy.”

“At least he didn’t stuff and mount the corpses.” Frowning, Jazz looked at the mannequins again. Blank wooden eyes stared back at her, giving nothing away. Each of them was posed straight on, arms at their sides, except the third one in — a female in a flowered sundress, with one hand outstretched.

And there was something in that hand. Something metallic.

She walked over and slid the object free. It was a row of copper tubes, even at one end and varying length at the other in descending order, banded together with thin strips of silver. Panpipes. There were symbols, almost like Arabic lettering, etched into the tubes near the even end. The thing could’ve stepped out of a Greek myth. She turned and held it out toward Donatti. “I’d call this museum-worthy,” she said.

He grinned. “Jackpot.”

“Okay, we’ve got the tether.” She went to him and handed it over. “Now we. .”

“Wait for Seth.”

“And what’ll we do when he gets here?”

“Um. Tackle him?”

“Somehow, I don’t see that working.”

Donatti stared at the pipes, turned them over in his hands. “Wish I could read djinn writing,” he said. “Maybe I can get Ian to teach me.”

A muffled sound drew their attention. A bang, like a cellar door closing. Another bang followed. “You picked the wrong hole, rabbits,” Seth called. “This one only goes down.”

Donatti took a step back. “Queens,” he whispered — and vanished.

Jazz might have loved him, but she didn’t like him very much right now.

She knew exactly what he meant. When they were both still working, pre-Cyrus, they’d done a job in Queens lifting some electronics from a high-end specialty place. The owner had showed up in the middle of the gig, and Donatti had sent Jazz out to play the lost and horny distraction while he legged the rest of the stuff out the back. With one word, he’d just told her to seduce Seth while he did. . whatever.

He’d better do whatever real goddamn fast. If she had to go any further than second base, she’d shove his picks up his nose. One at a time. Slowly.

Footsteps approached the door to the room. She debated throwing herself at him, telling him that he was the sexiest thing on two legs, but Seth didn’t strike her as stupid. She’d have to play things a little less directly.

At the last second, she remembered something critical. She’d bashed his skull in — and she wasn’t supposed to know he’d survive. Time to change tactics. She moved to the steamer trunk and started climbing inside.

The door banged open just as she was swinging her leg over. She stared at him and let out a startled cry. “You,” she whispered. “I killed you.”

Seth laughed, a harsh sound far from his earlier indulgent amusement. “You must not have hit me as hard as you thought.”

“But there was blood. I saw it.”

“A scratch.” He walked closer, his gaze sweeping the room. “Where’s your friend?”

She let herself shiver, put a tremor in her voice. “We got separated in the woods.”

“So the thief taught you how to pick locks.”

“We’re both thieves. Retired. We were on vacation.” She swallowed. “Why are you trying to kill us?”

“I wouldn’t have hurt you, Jazz with the beautiful eyes.” The beginnings of a smile eased across his lips. “Your friend was in the way. Sadly, he’ll probably die in the forest. It’s so easy to get lost out here.”

“Lost,” she whispered. Not all of her confusion was faked. Dizziness swirled around her, and her thoughts tried to centre themselves on Seth, on touching him, holding him. He was hypnotizing her again. Come on, Donatti, do something.

“Yes, but you’re not lost any more.” Seth closed more of the distance between them, his eyes practically flashing. “You’ve found me. And now you’ll stay, won’t you?”

Stay with you. It was an effort not to speak the words. Part of her wanted to cry out yes! and fall into his arms swooning, like some idiot woman in a herbal shampoo commercial.

Seth’s smile dropped away. “I sense. . impossible. You can’t be.”

“Do these things actually work?” Donatti popped into view across the room behind Seth, holding the panpipes. They were splashed with blood — his own. One of the things he needed for the spell to destroy them. “Not much of a musician myself, but this seems pretty cool.”

The moment Seth turned to look at him, Jazz felt normal again. She held off on the sigh of relief, though. She still had no idea what Donatti was planning, and if Seth was like Ian, he could do just about anything.

“Lost in the woods, are you?” Seth glared at him. “Give me those.”

“Not until you tell us where your mirror is. I know you have one somewhere.”

“My. .” Seth’s brow furrowed in what looked like genuine confusion. Then his expression shifted to mockery. “Ah, I see,” he said. “A human who believes he knows something about us. What do you think you’re going to do with my pipes, human? Make me grant wishes?”

Donatti grinned. “I’m not human,” he said. “At least, not completely.”

“So you’re a thief and a liar.”

“Oh, yeah?” He stopped smiling. “Ant lo’ahmar nar—”

“Stop!” Seth cried.

A shiver went through Jazz, genuine this time. That was the destruction spell. Damn. Donatti had gotten a lot better at bluffing.

Seth took a few staggering steps and sat down hard in the bucket seat. “Who are you?” he said hoarsely.

“Hold on.” Jazz stepped out of the trunk and crossed the room to stand with Donatti, giving Seth a wide berth. “Before we get to the Q&A here, can’t you do something to make sure he doesn’t throw any magic at us?”

“I don’t have to. He’s just about tapped.” Donatti almost looked sorry for him. “He would’ve had to transform to heal himself, and then change back. That takes a lot.”

Seth fixed him with an astonished stare. “How could you know that?”

“Because I hang around with a couple of djinn. And I’m descended from one.”

“Who?”

“Gahiji-an, but we call him Ian.”

“The Dehbei prince.” All the colour faded from Seth’s face. “I’d heard. . he was supposed to have been killed. Centuries ago, when he was banished here.”

Donatti grimaced. “Oh, nice. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear he’s dead. I wouldn’t tell him that, if I was you. He might kill you for it.”

“By the gods.” Seth looked away and slumped in the seat. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered. “All this time, and I. . wait. You said there were other djinn. Who? Where are they?”

“Wait. First, it’s your turn,” Donatti said. “Who are you really?”

He looked at them with hollow eyes. “My name is Seti-el, of the Anapi clan,” he said. “At least, I was. I’m sure my clan’s disowned me by now.”

“Just a guess, but I’m thinking Anapi means fox,” Jazz said.

Seth nodded. “Tricksters and thieves, the lot of us. Some more than others,” he said with a healthy dose of bitterness. “That’s why I’m here, instead of in my own realm. I was tricked into an arranged marriage to someone I despised, someone who despised me and only wanted the bond so she could make me miserable forever. I couldn’t change things, so rather than marry her, I came here. I’m sure you noticed I have no windows or mirrors in this place. It’s so they can’t find me and force me to come back.”

A glimmer of sympathy passed through Jazz, and she swept it aside with the image of the wrecked cars and the corpse. “So you settled down and started killing people,” she said.

“No! I’ve never killed anyone.” Seth let out a shuddering breath. “The dead man on the road wasn’t my doing. He crashed deliberately. Took his own life. I never came into contact with him.” He looked straight ahead, and his gaze unfocused.

“Yeah, right.” She frowned at him. “Even if that’s true, it means you caused the other wrecks. And you tried to rip Donatti’s throat out.”

He shook his head and looked at Donatti. “I knocked you down, yes. But I only nipped you, and you passed out from your other injuries. The blood was rabbit’s blood. I wouldn’t have let you die.”

“So I didn’t heal myself? Damn.” Donatti raised an eyebrow. “That’s seriously fucked up. Why would you do that?”

“To see how you’d react.” Seth stared at the floor. “I’d been here fifty years, alone, before humans started coming into the area. They were building that road. At first I only watched them, but when I realized whatever they were planning would bring them to my cabin, I. . scared them off. Convinced them the place was haunted. And it was fun. The first entertainment I’d had in decades. Of course, after that it was years before anyone else came this way. A couple who’d gotten lost. So I decided to have some fun with them.”

“Let me get this straight,” Jazz said. “You crash people’s cars and chase them around the woods because you’re bored?“

He offered a miserable nod. “The first time, I didn’t play with them long. I healed their injuries before they woke from the crash, ‘miraculously’ unharmed. I let them see the fox, and turned myself invisible to play ghost. I created a few small illusions. Nothing too terrible. And when I’d finished, I brought them to the nearest town with altered memories and enough money to replace what I’d stolen. Your money is easy to reproduce.” A half-smile appeared and vanished. “But with each new arrival, I kept them a little longer, and played more elaborate tricks, until. . well, you know what I’ve done with you.”

“Yeah. You tried to make me think Donatti was dead so I’d sleep with you.”

“I’ve been lonely,” he whispered. “I’m afraid that’s no excuse. But you are the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen and I couldn’t resist trying.”

Donatti made a disgusted sound. “Good thing it didn’t work, or I wouldn’t be able to resist kicking your ass. Not that I would’ve succeeded. But I’d try.”

Jazz stopped herself from making a reflexive caveman comment. Usually she hated it when he went all defend-the-little-woman on her. Tonight, it didn’t annoy her so much. “If you’re so lonely, why didn’t you just move somewhere else?” she said. “You know, somewhere with a population bigger than one plus a bunch of rabbits and bears.”

“Djinn can’t. . I mean, it didn’t seem possible that a djinn could live with humans, or form relationships with them. I thought I’d be an outcast. I’m already shunned by one realm, and I wouldn’t do well if this one hated me, too.” He blinked a few times. “But it obviously worked for Gahiji-an, or you wouldn’t exist, Donatti. And the two of you are together.”

“Yes, we are,” Donatti said with a little scowl. “Very together.”

A smile forced itself across Jazz’s mouth. Damn, he was cute when he was jealous. “You’ll do fine,” she said. “There’s plenty of people more freaky than you.”

Seth almost smiled. “I believe you. But then. . I don’t know. It’s such fun here, and I’m hardly hurting anyone. There are so many of you humans. If I had access to more, the temptation would be great to—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Jazz said. “I may be human, but I will kick your ass. And it won’t be so easy getting up again next time.”

Donatti gave Seth a withering stare. If she didn’t know him, she’d be afraid of that look. “She will,” he said. “And when she’s done, I’m sure Ian’s gonna be next in line. He will hear about you, and he’s not going to like it. We’ll be watching.”

“Well, if you put it that way.” Seth blanched and looked away. “I’ll stop. Really.”

“So it’s settled, then,” she said. “You’re out of here.”

“Maybe.” Seth spent a few minutes staring at the floor. Finally, his features grew resolute and he stood slowly. “I think I will,” he said. “Yes. I’ll join the world. There are so many things I’d like to see. Disney World. The Sahara desert. Strip clubs.”

Jazz laughed, and even Donatti cracked a smirk. “I guarantee you’ll enjoy at least one of those things,” she said. “But you have to stop fucking with people. Trust me, that isn’t going to go over too great in civilization.”

“I swear I won’t hurt anyone. Just a few harmless tricks now and then.”

“Really. And what, exactly, do you consider harmless?”

Seth grinned. “I was thinking of making Mount Rushmore disappear.”

“Holy shit,” Donatti said. “That’d be awesome! It’d drive so many people crazy trying to figure it out. The brilliant scientists, the conspiracy nuts, the FBI, the—”

“Donatti.”

He coughed. “Sorry. I mean, don’t do that. It’s a bad idea. Very bad.”

“All right.” Seth made a show of crossing his heart. “No vanishing national monuments.”

Jazz sighed. “I really hope we’re not unleashing the eighth plague here,” she said, and turned to Donatti. “I don’t know about you, but I’m filthy and starving and exhausted.”

“Ditto. Seth, please tell me you have something to get around with.”

He nodded, headed for the back wall and stopped. “Before you go, could I please have my tether back?”

“I don’t know,” Donatti said. “I’m thinking maybe I should keep it for a while. Maybe mail it to you, or send it up with the park rangers. What’s gonna stop you from fucking with us all over again if I give it back?”

The corners of Seth’s mouth twitched. “You have my word,” he said. “You’re free to go, and I won’t harm you.”

Donatti frowned. “What do you think, babe?”

“I think he’d better show us how we’re leaving first,” she said. “Besides, we can always find the pipes again if he screws up. Akila can track those things.”

Seth went still and blinked rapidly. “The Bahari princess?”

“Yeah. She’s Ian’s wife.”

It took him a minute to recover. “You have powerful friends.”

“We’ve got a few connections,” Donatti said.

“Understood.” Seth moved to the bumpers mounted on the wall and said, “I had to have some way to bring the people off the mountain.” Reaching for the middle one, he grabbed it and pulled, and part of the wall swung out to reveal a recessed area with a tall shape draped in black canvas. He tugged the canvas away. Beneath it was a free-standing mirror. “I assume you know what to do,” he said to Donatti.

“Yup. Blood, words and poof. Instant portal.”

His features contorted for an instant. “My tether?” he said softly.

“Here.” Donatti handed them over slowly. “Don’t worry about the blood. I’m not contagious.”

“Good to know.” Seth accepted the pipes with a grateful nod. “I’ll get your bags for you,” he said. “I’m sorry for putting you through this. And I. . thank you. For proving me wrong, and setting me free.”

“Just don’t make us live to regret it,” Jazz said.

“You won’t.”

When he walked away, Donatti raised an eyebrow. “This guy’s a little nuts,” he said. “You really think he’ll lay off the sabotage racket?”

“Probably. And like you said, we’ll be watching him.” She shivered and glanced across the room, where Seth was inspecting the trunk, grabbing loose items and tossing them in one of their bags. “I would’ve killed him,” she whispered. “If I had the magic, he’d be dead. But you were right. He doesn’t deserve to die.”

“Hold on. Did you just say I was right?”

“Congratulations.” She shook her head, smirking. Maybe a little of his optimism was rubbing off on her. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. There was room for second chances — for Seth, for her and Donatti. Starting now. “So, this wasn’t the vacation I expected,” she said.

Donatti’s shoulders sagged like somebody just laid the weight of the world on them. “Some getaway,” he muttered. “Well, babe, I guess I’ll take us home. You ready?”

“Home?”

“Yeah. You’re exhausted, you’re worried about Cy, and. . well, you never really wanted to come out here with me, anyway. I know you’re not big on romance.” He gave her a smile so forced, he might as well have had a gun at his back. “So I’ll take you where you want to go.”

“Good. Because I want to go to a semi-secluded cabin on scenic Wolf Pond, for one remaining romantic night with the man I love.”

If his jaw fell any further, he’d have to reattach it.

She smiled. “Get me to a bed, Donatti. We’ll make all the magic you want.”