Topic: Mirage

Unfettered · Date: 2016-12-24 20:42 EST

He stood at the very edge of the rubble, surveying the damage inflicted. It was the picture of destruction - Elijah had done his work well; a thorough individual that didn?t play for tokens or satisfaction alone.

Mus?ad smiled and glanced down at the letter in his gloved hand. His mother?s correspondence was coded in the usual pleasantries but he was able to read between the lines. Father still hadn?t forgiven him but Mus?ad cared not. He was finding much more opportunity outside the family fold.

Slipping the letter into his pocket, the Jinn picked his way toward the center of the demolished textile factory, stopping here and there to examine the ruins of weaving machines or dye vats that peeked out from underneath the concrete boulders and twisted rebar. He even saw a shoe, covered in dust and barely recognizable, sticking out from between two broken slabs of drywall. There could have been a foot, a person, attached to that shoe but there was nothing to be done for them now.

Either by magical or mundane means, the surrounding buildings had been spared any damage, further highlighting Elijah?s meticulous nature. Mus?ad dropped into a crouch, the hem of his long coat brushing against the gravel and debris underfoot. Messages were being received in abundance from many sources and this was not the least of them.

Something caught his eye, half covered in dust and the mangled arm of a chair. With effort, the Jinn pulled a piece of filigreed scabbard free. He blew on it and brushed the dust away, only then realizing its original form. Closing his fist around the hunk of metal, Mus?ad rose to his full height and tilted his chin back, staring up at the sky.

Elijah would receive his response soon enough.

Elijah Cristea · Date: 2016-12-28 12:16 EST

Weeks prior,
October, 2016

Just beyond the Night Market was a cafe situated on a severe outcropping of boulders that careened down toward the ocean below. A seawall guarded much of the cafe's patio, but seasoned locals knew better than to sit too close to the edge; the narrow inlet was frequently subjected to angry bursts of high tide that would leave entire dinners drowned and oversalted.

It wasn?t Elijah's first time at the cafe, but he also hadn?t been so often that the amusement in spotting the odd traveler doused in seaspray had worn off. He watched from a table underneath an awning decked with twinkle lights. The seawall, however, was maintained in his periphery tonight, and it was the wide avenue of the night market that he'd made his center stage, instead. He considered the fluttering silk scarves and how even now, a week past, he still felt the echo of feet where Una stood. The scent of exotic spices and aromatics was all around, reminding him of lost months spent wandering India in and out of Una's company.

Elijah waited in the vest and trousers of a three-piece suit that he hadn?t donned in ages. The coat had long been relegated to the back of a nearby chair and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He couldn?t say why he felt compelled to put on the suit, but the urge was so striking that he obeyed it out of sheer inquisitiveness.

He knew something of the man he was waiting for, but not as much as he could, and that was partially due to his own disillusionment and the hope that something might still surprise him. He knew the most important piece of information, at least, which was that Mu'sad was looking for him. Discovering the man?s motivation for the search was intriguing enough that Elijah made no efforts to conceal his progression this evening. For the sensitive or even just slightly more aware, his signature of blood and smoke was woven throughout the city, most tightly among the stalls in the market and led, of course, to where he was sitting, hands folded neatly atop the wrought iron table.

The weather was on the verge of turning, the crispness lingering on the back of Mus?ad?s tongue, when he woke in the morning. It carried the same warning that could be found in the desert?s dusk when the bare landscape offered no shelter from either heat or its nightly antithesis. There was a steadiness to the weather in his homeland that felt eternal; on par with the sands of the Sahara, where nothing short of an act of God could ever bring change to that landscape.There was no such connection to this city but still, he found he could enjoy some aspects of it.

Weaving through the market, he noted the difference in meeting with a Cristea in the chaos and din of the Night Market, and meeting with a Lagos in an empty penthouse in a tastefully extravagant hotel. It put to bed some rumors and curiosities he had about this other family. Navigating the moving crowd with ease, Mus'ad found the quaint cafe that claimed the sea as its greatest centerpiece. Tonight, he was in a black suit and black shirt, tailored perfectly to the lines of his body, his tie loose at the neck and there was no sign of cufflinks at his wrists?those sleeves had been rolled up at some earlier point in the evening. His tie was the only splash of color lending itself to his olive complexion, a pale tawny green that perfectly matched his eyes. Curls were ruffled by the wind but it only served to make his elegance seem effortless, an accident of his birth.

Palms were placed together in front of his chest once he reached the table, murmuring a greeting to Elijah in his native tongue before gesturing to the seat across from the pale man that looked younger than his probable years. "May I sit?"

Elijah visually tracked Mus'ad's passage through the night market with interest, but not of the overbearing sort. It was a companionable and circumspect trailing of attention. Unlike the matte chasm of Una's gaze, Elijah's eyes were a vivid, violent blue, lit from within in luminescent shards. They sketched the lines of Mus'ad's suit and he realized the instinct behind his earlier closet raid with a half-smile.

Finding the man otherwise exactly as Una described, Elijah greeted him in kind when he arrived and nodded for the latter question. Beneath the table, a dress shoe rose and he kicked the chair opposite him out in invitation. "I don't wear suits often these days," he confessed while Mus'ad got settled. "Apparently, I was in the mood to either compete or impress. I'm still not certain which."

Unbuttoning his jacket, Mus'ad sat and shifted until he was comfortable?this meant a lean back in the chair with legs stretched under the table, crossed at the ankle while fingers steepled in front of him. Lids dropped a fraction of an inch while he studied Elijah. It was futile to do anything other than admit to the youth?s beauty, which drew the Jinn's eye naturally, would have drawn his eye regardless of the setting or reason for meeting. Those sculpted lips took a great deal of his attention, then the eyes.

"There is no competition here," he said, easing into a mildly charming smile. "I hope that we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. However, had I a choice in the matter, I would easily say that you impress, even without the jacket." Mus'ad admired the line of Elijah's shoulders, the taper of his torso before it was cut off by the table's horizon. "Please thank your sister for playing messenger, I understand it is not always in her interests to do so."

Elijah accepted Mus'ad's study openly, perhaps even leaned into it a little in a manner of speaking. And then, unfazed, he returned fire with his own. The Jinn?s features carried more age than Elijah's, but Elijah had long found that an unreliable marker. Una knew of the man's family, but the name wasn?t initially anything familiar to Elijah. That would have been unusual had he not spent decades sequestered in South America.

Even now, he was still recovering his civility, if such a thing could be recovered after having been so thoroughly cast off. He broke with the formalities, leaning forward, extending a casual reach across the table to rub the fabric of the other man's jacket between thumb and forefinger. He wasn?t surprised to find the quality far beyond that stretched over his own lap and thrown across the back of his chair. Something satisfied within him, Elijah leaned back, one shoulder rolling up in a shrug. "Her interests are unpredictable. What sort of arrangement are you looking for?" He didn?t address the other man's compliment yet; he was still examining the various ways he might take it.

It was quite a lean that Elijah took across the table, stretching to reach the arm elevated in front of Mus'ad's chest. For his part, the Jinn didn?t move, his expression remaining politely interested and congenial; confident that whatever was about to happen would be handled. His reward for patience was the observation of a small quirk, the reason for it unknown. Warmth and scent rose up in the wake of that hand that darted back across the table. These creatures were so expressive, Mus?ad wondered why he hadn?t come to play with them before.

"Do you need the name of a good tailor?" Mus'ad allowed a flash of humor to show in his eyes. A waiter approached and the Jinn ordered a Turkish coffee, falling back upon familiarity and the long-standing traditions of his people to eschew alcohol, at least in mixed company. "Are not all women unpredictable? I have been told that is what makes them eternally unattainable and why men forever chase them." Another wry slant of an eyebrow. "I have sought you out because I am looking for information and I am told that your family has contacts spread far and wide. I am seeking all living family members of a man named Nezzar Hadj," the H sounded harsh and guttural at the back of the Jinn's throat. "I will provide you with a picture and all the information I have on him. I want the names of everyone down to grandchildren if they exist."

Elijah loosed a chuckle at Mus'ad's mention of a tailor, the sound of it far deeper and older than he appeared. It had a resonance that could fill cathedrals and catacombs alike. As it tapered to a natural close, he waved the waiter off without ordering anything. It was another break with traditional negotiations, but Elijah had always been an aberration: the one blue-eyed, pale-skinned sibling. It was once an insecurity, and then a point of pride and then it, like everything else, was mostly unremarkable. He didn?t fight, or fuck, or charm the way the rest of the Cristeas did. Among some circles, that was considered his primary draw.

He listened, eyes narrowing minutely as Mus'ad detailed what he sought, mind racing along family trees and obscure connections until he found a likely starting place for unraveling the information the Jinn required. Elijah gave no intimation of that, but simply nodded, thumbnail etching a path beneath his chin. "What do you offer in return? Aside from the name of a good tailor?which will be wasted upon me." His smile was a sharp crescent of white teeth.

The reputation of Elijah had been reviewed, pored over, found to be acceptable for what Mus'ad wanted in terms of business, the reason that he was sought specifically above all others. It was to his benefit that these warring tribes know nothing of his family?less chance to get caught in the middle, better chances of turning things to his own advantage if he saw an opening.

Elijah didn?t seek to fill the silence, nor was he as cryptic as his sister. For a creature who moved in their world, Elijah was rather direct but Mus'ad found it refreshing. "I believe that gold is still good in this world and many others. However, if you have something else in mind, we can certainly negotiate." Now, Mus'ad smiled widely enough to show off his gleaming white teeth that looked all the brighter next to his dusky skin. Descended from a long line of camel-traders and merchants, he looked forward to haggling with this beautiful stranger. "Ah, the name will only be wasted if you do not employ it. Or did you only wish to impress me?"

"Gold is still an acceptable standard, yes, though awfully pedestrian. I think you're capable of more interesting offers: something as well-tailored as your suit." Elijah?s head tilted to one side as if following the cut of the Jinn's frame from shoulder to toe. It was just shy of appraising, and appeared good-humored, though Elijah stood shortly afterward, scooping his coat into one hand, the fine threads whispering under his thumb. ?Think on it,? he said. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a valet's receipt with an address scrawled across the top. "You can find me there after tomorrow."

A step forward and he paused, turning a look across the sea as it frothed white across the rocks and rushed to fill the inlet. He'd had no such view in years. Turning back to Mus'ad, his expression was stripped bare of guile for a brief moment, and perhaps it was then that the Jinn might gather that Elijah's true age spanned eras.

"If I were trying to impress you, employing a suit to accomplish that would be the last thing I'd do." Elijah?s forefinger dusted the edge of a dark brow in salute before he headed from the cafe's patio back into the night market.

(Thank you, Unfettered)

Unfettered · Date: 2016-12-29 00:28 EST

Early November - Part 1

There were places in West End where sunlight and shadow broke the rules, bent at odd angles, created shapes that weren?t there, or vanished and reappeared at will?no matter the color or clarity of the sky. Twilight served as the great equalizer, and as the sun slid towards the horizon, it bled the last of its chaotic color prismatically over the four-story brick building where Elijah waited.

The building was clearly empty, but not in disrepair. The windows were still intact. The peeling paint on the bricks advertised a grocer and, faintly beneath that, a textile mill. From the sidewalk where Elijah stood, the backlit building glowed as if on fire. He felt a sense of nostalgia that came with the rise and fall of an old fear. Fire: he?d been terrified of it once.

Seating himself on a wrought iron bench placed just to the left of the front door?s tattered awning, Elijah pulled a pencil and folded newspaper from his back pocket and laid it over his knee. He wore no suit today, but there were charcoal trousers and a black t-shirt. The soles of his loafers needed to be replaced.

There was no car or even a sound to signal his arrival, Mus'ad simply turned the corner of the building to see Elijah sitting on a bench outside the building. The weather here was cold?Mus'ad wore a wool coat that hung to his knees, matte black boots covered by slacks protecting his feet from the slush that coated the sidewalk. The air was crisp but everything else was soft and cold, threatening to give way beneath his feet. Breath steamed in the evening air as he moved toward the other man, hands kept in the pockets of his coat, body relaxed.

"Masaa el kheer." It was a greeting in his native tongue but it would be easy enough to figure the meaning from context. Elijah seemed at least that clever. Pulling his hands from the pockets of his coat, gloved hands were pressed together so that he could bow his head over them before taking a seat, one knee crossing over the other.

"Masaa el kheer," Elijah murmured in return, his eyes slow to depart the paper below where he penciled in a number before lifting his gaze up to find the other man's eyes. No sooner had Mus'ad sat than Elijah tucked the paper away and stood, his smile as slow-moving as the setting sun, but brilliant once it reached its apex. He showed no evidence of feeling the chill in the air, the skin of his exposed forearms smooth and unblemished by goosebumps. Turning a half measure so that he was angled between Mus'ad and the building, he made an expansive gesture that grew more focused when he pointed to a metal ladder ascending the building on one side, and then to the glass-faced front doorway.

"We'll be going to the top. Preference in the mode of travel?"

Mus'ad remained on the bench, looking up at Elijah as the man slowly positioned himself in full presentation mode. This was going to be an evening of examples, leverage, sleight of hand. A hunch that the Jinn nurtured in his breast as he twisted to look at the ladder, the door and Elijah in turn. "The roof or merely the top floor?"

"The roof," Elijah nodded, hands sliding into the pockets of his trousers as he waited for Mus'ad's decision.

Hands to his knees to push himself to his feet before presenting a pleasant smile to Elijah. "The front door. I should like to see the inside of this building while I may. It will provide brief respite from the cold." His smile deepened as if this were some old joke between them before gesturing for the other man to go first. "After you, my host."

Elijah met Mus'ad's smile with the end of his own, then took a step towards the doorway. "Did the destination make a difference?" Elijah asked as he reached for the handle of the door. The ornate brass was cold in his hand, and the hinges of the old frame gave a soft squeak as he pulled. The lobby of the building was tiled in marble slabs worn shallow in places by the passage of feet. A stairwell rose to the left like a nautilus shell of polished wood and brass. Once they were both inside, Elijah allowed the door to fall shut behind him and preceded Mus'ad to the stairwell, suspecting the man preferred to trail him.

"It served to inform my decision." Following after Elijah, a cursory glance told him that none were following and then he was enveloped by the hollow darkness of the building. At least it served to block the wind. He admired the marble while he walked, reminiscing about the cool tile in his mother's study at home, where he would often lie on the floor while she read to him during the heat of the day.

Once they started up the stairs, Mus'ad pulled abreast of the other man since he knew their eventual destination - the roof. "Did my preference make a difference?"

That wasn't a particularly revealing answer, but neither was it concerning. Elijah accepted it in silence, his pace steady up the stairs, no increase in the rise and fall of his chest. The plaster walls were cracked and worn in places, marked with an odd handprint smudge here and there. At each floor they had to cross the small landing before continuing upwards. Elijah considered the other man sidelong as the walked, and then said, succinctly, "No."

The Jinn kept pace with Elijah, matching his stride and the cadence of his steps so that they moved in unison rather than merely in the same direction at the same time. Turning his face to look down a hallway they passed, Mus'ad hid a smile at the monosyllabic response. There was a time when that word would have pricked at his pride but imprisonment was nothing if not humbling; it taught patience and prudence. "How often do you see your sister, Una?"

"As often as I desire it, which varies," Elijah said, the smile back in his voice, though there was no evidence of it upon his face, which, when emptied of expression appeared as impassive as statuary marble.

The topmost landing was just wide enough for both men, and Elijah slid a bit in front of Mus'ad to turn the handle on the door. The wind greeted them with a bite that diminished once the door was all the way open.

The rooftop was littered with chimneys that still smelled of burning wood, though their fires had long since died. Otherwise, there was little else to see there. The primary draw was a view that extended in all directions, and the small table that had been set up near the southernmost ledge beyond which the lights of buildings had begun blinking on.

Atop the table were two juice glasses, a bottle of grappa, and a bottle of prosecco, both unopened. Two wooden chairs faced each other. In front of the chair that faced the ledge of the building and benefited most from its view, were three cheap, prepaid cellular phones arranged in a line. It was that chair that Elijah indicated Mus'ad should take, as he took the one opposite him. "You offered me gold when we last spoke. How much did you intend to offer as your opening?" He nearly interrupted himself to leisurely point each bottle out: "Either of these suit? I was in a certain mood earlier. These are the result."

This family intrigued him, far more than the Lagos, with whom Mus?ad was relatively more familiar. Perhaps the unknown was more enticing, in this instance. Once the door of the roof opened, blowing the edges of his coat wide, Mus'ad stepped through and walked across the flat expanse of rooftop. This building was taller than those immediately surrounding it, affording them a more expansive view than they would find on the street. The table and the wine were expected but the phones had him arching a brow, curious how they would feature in tonight's vignette.

Taking the appointed chair, Musad leaned back and crossed one knee over the other as he reached out to tap the bottle of grappa. "It has been years since I have sampled a vintage grappa, I thank you for the opportunity to do so again." He inclined his head to Elijah before considering the question of money. "I think that two hundred gold pieces is more than sufficient to start the process."

"So polite. I forget sometimes," a low-volume passing comment as Elijah took the bottle?s curve in his hand and split the seal with the corner of his thumbnail. Once the seal was an unwound ribbon of red, he tucked it away it his pocket and pushed the cork free. Mus'ad was given the first glass, and then Elijah poured for himself, his attention on the rising volume of liquid as he spoke. "As I mentioned before, I'm not interested in gold. I think you are capable of things that would be of considerably more interest to me than gold. Now the task is how we find the equivalent of your offer in something that cannot necessarily be weighed out or valued traditionally." He lifted his glass in Mus'ad's direction, swirled it, then laid it against his lips. Years later and he could still taste the chalk in the soil, the Tuscan sunsets, even the Italian with whom he?d spent those years.

Mus'ad was hungry for the meat of this negotiation. He relaxed into it, nodding his gratitude before he raised his glass in toast to the other. "Salud," affecting an Italian toast for an Italian drink. Just enough to wet his tongue, the flavor enervating his taste buds in a way that complimented the chill in the air.

"Ah." The corners of his mouth flexed, curving up for a moment. "What is it you think I can do for you that would be of more value than gold?" The Cristeas were not wanting for money, he knew that, but what else to offer an unknown variable than something that was commonly regarded as fair trade value?

Elijah set his glass back to the table and laced his fingers behind his head, chin tipping skyward as the stars revealed themselves in faint points of light."What would you offer in place of gold?"

Elijah's posture was confident, cocky, assured of his victory in this conversation. With another sip of his grappa, Mus'ad regarded the view to the right of his companion. "I can offer you this world or others and all the material things they possess. But I have a feeling that you do not wish for any of those things, whether it be money or the finest silks. You already live as a Prince, what can a Prince not obtain for himself?"

Elijah, in spite of his confident posture, had no designs on victory. His own interests and desires, yes, but he'd rarely known negotiation to lead to a victory other than compromise. Certain things that Mus'ad possessed, Elijah would never have. He was already aware of that. The question then became, what could he share in? It was that thought that informed his reply.

"I spent many years in South America. I learned their language, then I joined their clandestine wars. They kept no body counts, no records, no reports. There were no maps to follow. I learned their machines and their explosives. I infiltrated their enemies; I became their enemy, and then their ally again.

"When I no longer felt any stake in their wars, I lived in their jungles and moved among the villages. I learned their magic and customs. But the greatest lesson I learned was the bittersweet state of having knowledge and being incapable of doing anything with it.

"I am quick, strong, virtually indestructible on the Earth I come from. I move as light and darkness do, but you have abilities and access to things I have not yet encountered. I have no desire for anything material you could offer me, no, but an exchange of information is of interest to me." Elijah tipped back in the chair, timbre of his voice rising and falling sonorously as he swayed forward and back in his chair with the nudge of his loafer. Gradually, he settled to the rooftop again and leaned forward as he finished, folding his arms atop the table, eyes focused sharply and intent upon the Jinn.

Sipping steadily at the grappa, it was finished during Elijah's explanation and Mus?ad refilled his glass?just one finger high?and this one was imbibed gradually, reveling in the subtle complexities of the bouquet.

When Elijah leaned on his arms, Mus'ad also leaned forward with one elbow on the table, that hand dangling over the rim of his glass where fingertips toyed idly. The other man had a cherubic face, the kind that the great masters of old would have begged to use as inspiration for the next painting or sculpture; the kind of beauty that was worshiped and craved. But there was a hardness behind the soft, full lips and pale eyes that spoke of cunning and steel. Mus'ad smiled.

"I can hardly imagine you stymied to the point of inaction. You are young and determined, you do not allow many things to stand in your way. Clever but humble, proud but not overbearing. You are a true Prince of your line. Tell me, Prince, what information you seek."

Elijah had been worshiped and had worshiped in kind. What hardness there was in his eyes stood as evidence of sacrifice, pounds of flesh, bad trades, and the ashes of an old betrayal. But along with that cunning and steel was also interest and curiosity that was genuine, that seemed artless aside from their negotiations.

Mus'ad refilled his glass and Elijah's gaze dropped automatically to the bottle, to the way the Jinn?s fingers closed around its neck. He grew thoughtful, and then abruptly amused by the repetition of Prince. He despised the moniker immediately, but only laughed, full-throated and much more buoyant than he looked capable of for what followed. "I have no idea yet, which is a rarity, let me assure you. I've had weeks and still I can't specify quite what it is that I might want from you. You asked my sister last night for time with her upon your request. I enjoyed hearing that. I added it to my list of possibilities. Altered somewhat: time with my exotic acquaintance. Also on my list of possibilities: three favors from you at the time of my choosing. Given the choice, which would you prefer?" Hard to say whether Elijah had lapsed in his negotiation skills, for his features had gone placid again. His eyes, however, were still engaged in the dance.

(Thank you to Elijah Cristea for the scene)

Unfettered · Date: 2016-12-29 00:30 EST

Early November - Part 2

Mus'ad inclined his head to acknowledge the moment of vulnerability, when Elijah admitted he didn't know yet what he wanted. Many would see that as a weakness, indecision, and press an aggressive front against it to have their will be done. However, the Jinn was enjoying this conversation in the cold and didn't wish for it to end on a sour note. It was rare, in this day, to find someone that enjoyed the verbal sparring that was haggling; practically a national past time for his people, Mus'ad found it a pleasant way to pass the evening.

A flock of birds rose from behind the lip of the building in a sudden rush of sound, flapping wings and high pitched chirps, that drew his gaze to them. Watching the flock arc up and bank away from the building toward the west, he waited until they were gone from his view before speaking.

"Una is unique. Her beauty is dangerous and it is clear that she is a predator who enjoys the hunt but there is a charm to her that is glimpsed in afterthought. Were I the type of man to enjoy the company of women, I would consider pursuing her." A small smirk tilted the corners of his mouth and now he leaned back, hands folded in his lap. "Three favors? Have you been listening to old tales?" Green eyes narrowed but there was no heat behind them. "Of those two choices, I would prefer to spend time with you." The other was a chain that the Jinn was loathe to put around his ankle, not wanting to be tied into yet another prison offered with a pretense of choice.

"I?m certain Una is already aware of your preferences, and that she will continue pursuing you in her own way simply because you are appealing to look at and to listen to," a dark brow made an enigmatic jump upward, and one corner of Elijah?s mouth curled, humored. "Had she been born into a different family, I suspect she would have made an excellent museum curator." After refilling his glass, he reached across the table, one hand palming the phone from the center of the line and pushing it into his pocket. "I enjoy old tales. And I enjoy irony," he conceded. "Is your preference based on all that those old tales suggest? You dislike the idea of being so beholden to me, but spending time in my company somehow suggests a freedom the other option does not. Even if, in truth, it's just another illusion?"

There was an affectation of humility in the way he nodded at the compliment but they both knew it was a mirage and would not bear up to scrutiny. "I have many treasures she could catalog," he murmured, amusing himself at the very least. Lifting one hand, it was held horizontally over his glass, declining a second refill, sensing this transaction was reaching its conclusion. "You asked for my answer and I have given it."

Glancing down at the table, he watched as one phone was palmed and tucked away. The Jinn viewed possession as a mutable concept and it didn't take long before he gave into his own curiosity. Three phones lay in front of him on the table again and Elijah would find his pocket empty. "What do these have to do with the price of your information?"

"So you have," Elijah agreed, a pleased smile dawning. He'd been given twice the answers he was looking for; he had no complaints to make, and even when the third phone reappeared upon the table, the discord in his expression was smoothed over into pleasantry quickly enough. He'd been surprised, yes, but not fazed by the magic itself. Were the setting different, his reaction would have also changed in temperament.

As it was, Elijah picked up his glass and gestured with the bottom of it to the third phone before taking a long swallow. "My family enjoys all sorts of games: card games, games of strategy like chess, and those that are of a more liberal interpretation. I have always thought chess to be an intimate game, and I don't know you well enough yet to make that venture. If you'd be so kind as to press the power button on the third phone there, you will give me some light to finish my drink by."

The Jinn smiled for the reaction he garnered. "If that is an invitation, I would enjoy pitting myself against you. I cannot say which of us would...come out on top? I believe that is the slang. I, too, enjoy games as long as I have a worthy opponent. An assured win against one that cannot compete against you is not a true victory."

Glancing down at the phones, he was wary of that introduction but did as requested anyway, idly wondering if it was going to explode.

Elijah gave the Jinn a long look for that comment, his expression carefully neutral. After a few seconds, however, he said, "I will take that into consideration," and a brief smile broke through the facade.

As Mus'ad picked up the third phone, Elijah angled his chair to share a view of both the horizon and the Jinn. He picked up his glass and waited.

Within a half second of Mus'ad's finger landing upon the power button, a bright starburst lit up the southernmost portion of the sky in brilliant oranges and yellows that burned comet trails into the night sky before receding into a warm glow. Elijah toasted his own work and finished the rest of his grappa.

"That was an experimental plastic. I wasn't sure it would work," he confessed with a dissolute smile, and then reached for the same phone he'd secreted away prior, displaying it to Mus'ad before he tucked it away again. "You don't want this one, my friend. It's connected to this building. The third one, however," point of his chin indicating the last unopened phone lying atop the table, "contains the information for three of the contacts you seek. Peripherals, not the main events. Consider it a show of good faith." Elijah picked up the last phone and held it in the palm of his hand as if presenting Mus'ad with a rare treasure.

The smile wasn't telling, not as much as the neutrality to which Elijah clung until he decided how to react to that statement. Expecting some sort of explosion with the foreshadowing provided by his host, there was only a scant second of surprise, when green eyes flew to the bursts of light unfolding in the sky. The rest of the time, his gaze lingered on Elijah, watching the satisfaction wash over the other man, toasting himself. That, too, was telling. Musa'd restrained a smirk that wanted to run free - it was caged for the moment.

"Was this to display your power, did I not provide you with suitable answers? A failsafe if I threatened you?" The Jinn let his hands rest in his lap once more, folding against the other. Keeping his eyes locked on the other man, Mus'ad picked up the phone, gloved fingertips lingering for a second longer than appropriate. "I do not believe that faith and business should mix." Pouring himself a last shot of grappa, Mus'ad pushed to his feet.

"Contact me when you have more. And when you would like to further discuss the terms of payment." Finally, the smirk was let loose as green eyes roved slowly over the other man. All the way down to his feet and back up, unabashed; and then, he disappeared from sight.

(Thank you to Elijah Cristea for the scene)

Unfettered · Date: 2017-01-06 23:58 EST

December 27th - Lindtfein Gallery

The night was unconscionably cold, making even a trip to the Night Market unbearable when the wind cut through every layer of clothing and bit at any exposed skin. Perhaps that was the reason he wasn't dressed in his usual tailored threads. A hood painted his face in shadows, glass-green eyes catching the light as he waited behind the window of a darkened shop front. A sharp gust carried bits of garbage skittering along the street and a pair of pedestrians passed by just as quickly, the frigid temperature encouraging them to find shelter. They never noticed the Jinn watching and waiting for his companion of the evening.

Beyond the darkened street, holiday lights brought warmth to otherwise bleak shadows and corners of the city. The Winterfest events were in full swing but Mus'ad didn't care to join in the frivolity. He couldn't understand wanting to celebrate a season or a weather pattern.

Una arrived by a sleek, black car that was otherwise indistinguishable from the hundreds of others that carried RhyDin's upper echelon across the city. Una could not claim that faction, though. In this era, she was still mostly a stranger in this town, its social circles no longer as interesting to her as they once had been. At least those that cavorted at the highly public galas and soirees. There were other circles: the clandestine and hushed, invitations a requirement, access by network. She and Elijah each had their own means of tapping into those, however, and thus far she'd resisted, finding entertainment elsewhere. At the moment, it beckoned in the exotic pair of green eyes that broke through the darkness.

The man beneath the hood garnered a sphinx smile from Una as she approached, her dark wool coat billowing along the hem. She put her back to the shop window and looked across the street where a few strands of twinkle lights decorating another shop window swayed in the breeze and then came loose from their nail, sagging diagonally across the face of the pane.

Once Una appeared on the sidewalk, so did Mus'ad. He blinked from the inside of the shop to the outside, sucking in a breath at the shock to his desert-born skin. Hands sunk deeper into the pockets of his peacoat as he stood shoulder to shoulder with her, watching the lights give up their hold.

"They cling to the light and still fear the dark," he murmured, a general observation of the life that grew in and around this city. For all its dark corners and underhand citizens, there would always be those that hoped for better. And yet they stayed here. A mystery, indeed. "It leaves the shadows to us," he said, turning his face to Una with a small smile.

"Poetic," Una said, one hand rising to reshape the sharp points of her bob after the wind stirred it once more. "But not all of them. Some chase after the dark. There isn't a better city for it than this one." Her smile was musing; she enjoyed the city, its eclectic denizens, its darkness and its light and also the places where they inexplicably blended into something that had no replica on Earth.

Mus?ad?s gloved hand was pulled from his pocket and held out to Una, palm up. "Would you allow me to take you somewhere?"

Una didn't hesitate to take his hand, her own hand bare and pale, the fingers curling around his with a comfortable intimacy. "So it does," she agreed, and nodded again for his last question. "Should I ask where or leave it to be a surprise?"

"If only you had seen the city of Asmara in its glory. You would have thought it a portal to the dark dimensions." His smile widened when she placed her hand in his and by the time she finished nodding, they were already transported.

There was no warning, he simply dissolved the both of them so that they reappeared in a room that was lit warmly but not with overhead bulbs; wall sconces and lamps that faced the ceiling were scattered along the walls and in the middle of the room, a thick rug sat completely with pillows for lounging and plates of food. The rest of the room, between the rug and the walls, was filled with tagged and categorized pieces of art. Statues, pieces of bas reliefs, protected vellum and stacks of paintings against the walls surrounded them. Music could be heard, muffled from the floor above.

"I had hoped that some small surprise would delight you." At least it was warm in the basement of the museum. "There is a gala being held tonight but I find this location to be far more interesting."

Una's hand remained within Mus'ad's for the brief duration of the transport, though by the time she exhaled her surprise into the museum's basement, her grip had tightened somewhat. "My exposure to gifts such as yours has been limited over the past decade, and apparently it's out of style these days to give proper warning. Or perhaps you thought I'd enjoy the element of surprise." Her tone was chiding, though it didn't linger because soon enough she released his hand to wander deeper into the room, fingertips exploring the frayed edges of stretched canvases as she moved.

Chin tipped up, she listened to the music filtering through the ceiling, and then stopped before a statue of the Venus de Milo, the artist unknown to her. She circled the figure, her palm smoothing over marble curves. "You are correct that this location is far more interesting, but now I'm curious how this benefits you? After all, wasn't this a trade? My time for the return of my marble." Una stepped from behind the statue to face the Jinn once more, once brow rising in mild accusation.

A hand lifted to rest against his chest. "My apologies, masul sauk. I fear that my attitude toward my own gifts has dulled over the years, I sometimes forget. You have not known many Jinns in your life?" Mus'ad drifted toward the rug and dropped down, reclining back against the thick pillows while he watched her lyrical dance among the dusty items. "You are unpredictable and I find that enticing. Was I wrong to assume that you delight in small surprises?"

Plucking a date from a nearby platter, Mus?ad chewed thoughtfully, observing how her fingertips caressed the delicate sculpture, worn smooth by centuries of existence. There were days he felt a kinship with the statue but today was not such a day. A slow smile bloomed across his mouth. "Indeed, this is a trade. I am curious why you decided to indulge me. An hour of your time is certainly a weighty barter for such a small trinket."

"I don't believe anyone has ever called me such a name. That alone is worth a pardon or three." Sweet thorn.There was unaffected delight in the smile that unwound in response to his moniker. Una's eyes drifted over him, their usual dark cataclysm, wandering from landmark to landmark upon his reclining body, a feline uptilt painted at each corner in kohl. "I have not known many Jinns in my life, no," she confirmed, her attention settling back on the Venus de Milo, where she feathered a thoughtful caress over the impervious marble top of the goddess's thigh.

"Your assumption wasn't wrong. In time, small surprises perpetuate where the big ones can become so redundant that they lose their effect entirely." Her back was to him then, her words coming slowly as if she'd only had the realization in the moment. Departing the statue with a final dance of her fingers down the gutter of the woman's spine, Una shrugged free of her coat and settled next to Mus'ad. Her clothing, as she'd made a habit of lately, was black: slim-fitting pants, a silk tank top that bared the well-defined rounds of her shoulders, and ballet flats that she promptly kicked off as she settled back on an elbow and angled towards the Jinn.

One hand disappeared into her pocket and returned with the handful of marbles. "They are small, but their size is a deception. They're capable of much more. I suppose I should be grateful you didn?t know that. You might have gained a year of my time rather than a mere hour."

"Do you understand the words or only the...intent behind them?" wondering if she spoke his language or merely took from context.

Here, at his leisure, the gloves had been removed as well as his outer coat, the hood of his cloth jacket pushed back to reveal the mussed curls that hugged his skull. The picture of relaxed elegance, there was a harder edge that lurked underneath the surface, often smothered by his smooth charm. A plate of pickled vegetables was pushed toward Una once she settled and he poured them both a glass of pomegranate wine.

"Perhaps I knew but did not wish to become one of the larger surprises that wears upon you until it is dull and lacks joy." Mus'ad flashed a coy smile before allowing his gaze to drop to the marbles. Reaching across their cups, he plucked one from her hand, rolling it between his thumb and middle finger. "What are you capable of?"

"Ana afham," Una said, the words spilling effortlessly from her mouth. Where her brother had required strong encouragement and force to do his translations, Una had taken to languages naturally. "I will have to think of something suitable for you in return."

She regarded the man across from her as if she'd decide in the moment, though nothing was immediately forthcoming. Her smile lingered in the place of words, and she openly studied Mus'ad's features, the coloring of his skin and eyes, the allure of the knife's edge that lurked behind the smooth veneer of charm and grace. She waved a hand dismissively at the vegetables, but took a glass of wine that immediately became decoration for the pale fingers that wrapped the stem, for she made no move to drink.

"That attempt at charm, I do not buy," Una said in reply to his comment about larger surprises and the coy smile that followed. Once he'd plucked a marble free, her fingers closed over those remaining, and the point of her chin dropped to indicate the marble in his hand. "Set it free and see. A demonstration is always more interesting, isn?t it?" No doubt that she and Elijah were related after all.

"I am breathless, awaiting your name for me." The smile was genuine this time, warming his eyes. Two predators circled each other, curious for the sake of curiosity but without true intent of harm. For now. A mutual truce until one of them felt threatened.

The marble danced across his palm as Mus'ad rocked his hand back and forth in a subtle motion. Just as when they first met, he flipped his hand over smoothly, the momentum keeping the marble rolling along his skin, traversing the dips and valleys between tendons and bone. Over the backs of his fingers it traveled until his hand was held upright in the air, the marble balanced on the tip of his middle finger. "It will not alert those above us to our presence?" Not that he was afraid of discovery but it was much nice to relax without interruption.

With a flick of his finger, the marble arced through the air and bounced off the edge of the rug. It bounced again on the concrete floor twice more before rolling toward the armless tribute to Venus.

Una made a pillow of her arm and observed Mus'ad's theatrics with her marble while an enigmatic smile played over her lips. "It will not give us away, promise," she assured him.

She did not follow the trajectory of the marble as it bounced along the floor and settled near the statue. Her eyes were riveted to Mus'ad's expression as a column of smoke rose from where the marble had been a scant second before and became a figure bearing a perfect likeness to the very man next to her.

The figure did not move or speak, but seemed crafted of flesh all the same, and not lifeless in the way the statue beside him was.

It was difficult to follow the path of the marble when he felt those fathomless eyes warming the side of his face but he managed it without betraying the effort it took. A brow arched when smoke started to gather and plume into the air, gradually solidifying and taking shape into...a man. Himself. A smile spread slowly, gradually blossoming into a chuckle. Pushing to his feet, Mus'ad stood in front of his reflection, hands clasped loosely behind his back and a smirk slanted across his lips.

"Can he move and speak or is he a glistening mirage on the horizon that will disappear if you move toward it?" Twisting, he cast a glance over his shoulder at Una. "Should I be flattered or wary that you can so easily cast my likeness?" another coy smile showing white slivers of teeth before he straightened and circled around both statues. "Is each marble the same as this one?"

Una rose with the Jinn, albeit a few steps behind, watching him approach the figure with that same unwavering smile. Her shoulder brushed against his as she came to a stop beside him. "Unlike with you, this one is not enhanced by opening his mouth. Speech skills are very rudimentary. He can move, though, yes." To demonstrate, Una stepped forward until she was a hair's breadth from the golem. "Even waltz," she said as one of the golem?s hands fit itself to her waist and the other clasped her hand. They completed a slow box step before Una stepped away.

"It has little to do with my skill and much more to do with that of the mage who gifted them to me years ago." She wound a finger through one of the golem's dark curls, examining the shine reflected in the dark hair of the Jinn opposite her. "There are five of them and they are similar but not exactly alike. They can walk, and dance, and fight, and kill, but they do not make good conversational partners."

He mouthed the word enhanced, amused to think that if he were silent, he would be less appealing. A question and a compliment rolled into one. A quick glance to the place where their arms touched before she stepped forward to demonstrate the golem's dancing skills. Mus'ad took a step back to give them room, tilting his head to observe himself from another viewpoint. It wasn't the first time he'd seen himself in this manner but it had been some time. Perhaps a haircut was in order.

"And they take on any visage you like?" A wide smile split his mouth as he held out a hand to Una, offering to be her next dance partner. Music from the upstairs gala filtered down and Mus'ad enhanced the volume so that it echoed softly in the room around them. "I hope that I waltz better than my counterpart," he murmured with a bow. "But he shall not be lonely." An impish gleam shone in his eyes and when Una next glanced at the golem, he was dancing with a mirror image of Una, though this one was just as quixotic as the original. For now, she didn't speak but she moved with the same airy grace of the Jinn's willowy dance partner, carried the same enigmatic smile.

"Any visage I like. More or less," she affirmed, stepping from alongside the replica into the arms of the real thing. Una's left hand settled lightly atop Mus'ad's shoulder while her right tucked itself within his extended one. She followed his lead, and they made several circles about the room before she delivered her assessment, "You're much better. Far more graceful. Warmer, as well."

Once she caught a glimpse of her doppelganger, she exhaled delighted laughter and couldn't help but slow their movements as she turned to watch herself in her golem's arms. She asked the same question Mus'ad asked prior, "Is she an illusion or a tangible creation?"

The weight of her hand in his was barely felt, her bones so delicate. It was one of the great contradictions about Una, the way she appeared so fragile but clearly reveled in her role as hunter and executioner. "I do not compare to your grace, masul sauk. You are the shining jewel of the Cristea family. Were I any other man, I would rush to your family and beg your hand." His smile dared her to doubt the flowery prose that sprang almost unbidden to his lips.

A quick glance over to the other pair and his smile slanted to one side. "Somewhere in between. You may touch her, you may speak to her, but she is born of the desert wind, shimmering on the horizon. She exists as long as I will her to be so." Mus'ad turned them in a twirling circle, keeping her snug within the frame of his arms so their center wasn't thrown off. Green eyes wandered the landscape of her features, traveling slowly so as not to miss any detail.

"You are correct that I did not ask you here only for the pleasure of your company, though I have enjoyed our time together. I have one more bargain for you, should you be interested."

Unfettered · Date: 2017-01-07 00:02 EST

December 27th - Lindtfein Gallery
(Part 2)

Were I any other man. Twice now Una had heard those words from Mus'ad's lips. The corners of her mouth curled for them, though she shook her head. "You would be a fool to do that. I don't think marriage would suit either of us. We're made for serial affairs with tragic endings." She winked at the drama of her statement and followed his gaze aside to their dancing compatriots, then reached out to brush her fingers along her mimic's shoulder to confirm the truth of Mus'ad's words.

When Mus'ad brought up the continuation of their bargaining, however, Una's attention reverted abruptly to him, a softening at the corners of her eyes showing her interest. "I'd like to hear it."

The song came to a close and so Mus'ad slowed their movements until they swayed to a gentle stop. As they did, Una's reflection disappeared, leaving his doppelganger alone on the floor, arms suspended in a dancing position. "Tragic endings," he repeated with a smile. "What an imagination you have. Although perhaps not too far from the truth."

Stepping back, he swept low in a bow, showing his gratitude for her indulgence in the waltz. "I shall tell all I meet of your exquisite skills on the dance floor." Once he straightened, the Jinn gestured for them to reconvene on the rug once more. He dropped back to his pillows and swept another date from the platter. "While I do not doubt your skills to obtain whatever your heart desires, I would like to offer you this: for every question you answer about your brother, I will grant you a piece of art from this room. I can send it any place of your choosing and the staff here will not know of the loss."

As if to punctuate Mus'ad's sentiment, no sooner did her own reflection vanish then the doppelganger of Mus'ad thinned into a column up smoke that disintegrated in all directions. The marble spun on the floor next to Venus and went still.

"Your copious flattery dates you, you realize," Una said with a twinge of a smile that was fond. "Modern times are harsh. And you will do no such thing; let them discover on their own," she added with a piquant bat of her eyelashes in regards to her dancing skills.

She was slower to return to the rug, stopping along the way to scoop up the marble while he spelled out his desired trade. After giving the Venus replica another lingering look, she seated herself cross legged just adjacent to Mus'ad. "These are questions you couldn't ask him yourself?" A troubled brow furrowed.

"Manners are timeless." Mus'ad was unruffled by the constructive criticism, angling a sly smile in her direction. Turning onto his side, the Jinn propped his head on his palm and reached across to stroke the curve of her knee with a single fingertip. "Besides, you enjoy them. I am not so naive to the modern times of this city but if any here mistake politeness for weakness, they will soon learn the error of their ways." Again, there was the dark edge just visible behind green eyes.

"They are questions I would rather not ask him directly. But if you do not wish to play this game, we will still part on peaceful terms."

"Manners, too, evolve," argument for argument's sake, though it was apparent Una wasn't attached to fighting for her case by the way her fingers wove through the air dismissively. She took his next comment into account with a muted half smile that flitted over her features and departed just as breezily. All living things had vulnerabilities, and at the moment Una wondered what Mus'ad's premiere weakness might be.

"I've not said I won't play, only that I'm curious why you won't ask him directly. Elijah is rarely mysterious if asked directly about something."

"I have seen the way that manners evolve, or should I say they have devolved? The face of the savage is not as hidden as it once was but I find my own advantage in that." Pulling his hand away from her knee, it was redirected to a plate of fruit, plucking up a slice of blood orange for himself. Biting into it, he sucked the dark juice from the pulp, licking it from his lips where it welled. "Ah, but are his sister. Of course, he will be forthcoming with you if you are close enough."

Una decided not to continue to plea Elijah's case on his behalf, but instead give in to her curiosity and see what the Jinn was up to. There was also the fact that she needed something else from the Jinn. "I'll answer a few questions on his behalf and in return, I'd like you to get me an invitation to and upcoming gala at an estate where I no longer have any connections. I suspect you might, however."

The plot thickened. Una was willingly rejecting a piece of art from this hidden collection in favor of an invitation to a gala? "Oh? A place where you cannot charm your way in on your own merit?"

"I have no doubt that I can, it's my date who's cause for concern." Una smiled, leaning forward on one elbow, and somewhere in between, the marble was plucked from Mus'ad's fingers and captured with her own in a quicksilver flicker of motion to casually circle her palm.

A smile hovered over his mouth, pulling a clear marble from his pocket. "Where is this gala and who is hosting it?" The marble was rolled between his middle finger and thumb. "What is your purpose there?"

"The Mordant estate," which meant the family would also be hosting. "The purpose is to gather information in an unobtrusive fashion,? she lied without flaw or guilt. ?But then, that's not a question about my brother, is it? Did your interests have a change of heart?"

"You would use my connection to gain an invitation and not allow me to escort you?" Mus'ad laughed and placed his now-empty hand to his chest. "My heart is breaking in two. Who is the lucky person that will be at your side?"

His smile became a smirk as an identical marble materialized in his hand so that they both had one. "A counter offer requires its own regard, we have not started the bargaining over your brother yet."

"Rude of me, isn't it? I suspect your heart is of the resilient variety." Una gave Mus'ad an inscrutable smile, and it would have been hard to say whether it was for Mus'ad's laughter, the appearance of another marble, or for eccentric man she mentioned next, "Your friend Owen. He's very observant."

For the Jinn's latter comment, her eyebrows rose expectantly.

"Resilient might be a suitable word choice, but it does not forget." He met that inscrutable smile with one of his own, a smile of the older days when a brutal sort of arrogance ruled his actions. It softened almost immediately as she continued. "Owen would describe himself as your friend first and myself second, I think. He likes you a great deal. But as for observant..." Lips twitched as he glanced down, rolling the marble along his forearm with gentle back and forth motions. "I have observed him being less than aware of his surroundings. Are you certain he is the best person to have at your side?"

"No," came the gentle correction, "Owen would describe himself as my employee, which would be the truth."

Mus'ad's counter comment pulled Una?s brows together and formed a little moue of her mouth. After some thought, she said, "No, but he's the one who will be coming."

Laughing softly, the marble in his hand disappeared so that he could reach for an olive, savoring the bitter, salty flavor. "Are you certain that is how he thinks of you?" Una received an arch look accompanied by a smirk. "Perhaps he has formed a small attachment to you?"

"Well if I am to gain you entrance to this event, I shall be in attendance, as well. If you tell me your purpose, I could help you achieve it."

"I am certain that that's how he should think of me, as it is the most apt characterization of our relationship." Mus'ad's smirk was met evenly, a hairline crack showing within it only when he mentioned attachments. "He would be a fool to do so. If you're his confidante, you should share with him some of my history out of consideration for his well being."

All of their headway, however, came to an impasse when Mus'ad set out his requirements. "No. Those are not terms I'll agree to. An invitation in return for answers to questions regarding my brother."

"Humans rarely do as they should, even those adept that consider themselves wise. Owen is humble but curious and trusting. Perhaps, if you truly wish to discourage him and thereby keep him safe, you would do well to show rather than tell. He can be stubborn." Unsolicited advice but there it was.

Inclining his head to her, Mus'ad rolled to his back, folding one arm underneath his head. One leg was bent, the other splayed across the rug. "As you wish. I do agree to your terms, I will gain you and Owen an invitation to the Mordant estate. Now, my first question regarding your brother..." He trailed off, musing silently a moment. "How close are the two of you?'

Mus'ad wasn't revealing any of humanity's secrets that Una wasn't already well aware of, but she nodded to his unsolicited advice all the same. No need to tell the Jinn what had transpired in the night market or about the vial of Owen's blood currently in her possession. Humanity had its oxymoronic moments of complex idiocy, and she thought perhaps that extended to other creatures, as well.

She gave Mus'ad's opening question a good deal of thought before replying haltingly, "I've yet to find a standard of normalcy for familial relations that extends across all cultures and species, but we grew up together and have spent our fair share of time both bickering and enjoying each other's company. I have never known him to betray me, and the reverse is true, as well. I don't imagine he would. We are not so close that he updates me constantly when we're across continents, but when we share a city, we usually keep each other in the fold. If for nothing else, it avoids potential awkwardness: we often have similar pastimes and preferences in company." Mus?ad got a fleeting smile for that last part.

Eyes closed slowly, committing each word, the tone and inflection, to memory. Pictures painted themselves across his mind while she spoke, slowly putting pieces together that before, had no context. "What is your standard of normalcy with him? Does he display affection or only wrath?"

Una laughed, "I wouldn't begin to know what my standard is. What a specific question. It just?is." She paused to peer at Mus'ad more closely, as if she might be able to divine the bigger picture. "He displays a full range of emotion and can be very expressive in many ways, but he is not hesitant with anger in the least, if that's what you're wondering."

The sound of her laughter pulled a smile from him, eyes slitting open to steal a glance at her. "Specific questions are better than vague questions, no?" The marble was back in his hand, rolling it between his fingers. "Are you related directly by blood or has one of you been adopted?"

"We're related directly by blood."

Mus'ad made a noise and sloped his hand so that the marble rolled to Una's knee and settled there, rolling in circles the size of a dime in the dimple of her kneecap where fabric pooled. "What are his predilections of the flesh? Do you know what he prefers?"

Una's gaze rose slowly from the marble making tight circles over her knee to find the green of Mus'ad's. Once she had, the smile she gave him was knowing. "He has no strong preferences aside from what captures his interest. To my knowledge, that is. I suppose the word I would use for his predilections would be: diverse."

"What is he capable of? Does he have marbles such as yours to bring forth creatures that will do his bidding? Does he have any current lovers taking his attention?"

A brief shake of her head for the first question, "I can't answer that, but you should ask him that yourself. As I mentioned before, he can be very forthright."

She paused, considering, before addressing Mus'ad's question about other lovers. "I've not known him to have anything recently that takes up much of his time"

"Do you know how many he has killed? Does he enjoy the kill as you do?" The marble made larger circles on Una's leg, spiraling up her thigh. "Is he humble in his feeding or would he rather bathe in their blood and delight in their torment?"

Una leaned back on her elbows, watching the progress of the marble as it corkscrewed up her thigh. She appeared unconcerned over its path, if intrigued. But Mus'ad's questions had reached a level of intimacy she didn't feel comfortable sharing. Not to mention the fact that her brother's whims and tendencies varied over time. Hesitation kept her quiet for some time before she said, "I have no idea how many he has killed?or whether he has enjoyed every one. I doubt it. So I don't know that I can answer that question properly. It's almost equivalent to asking how someone likes to fuck. There are many variables that can go into an answer like that.? She plucked free one of the dates idling in his palm and popped it in her mouth as she rose. "If you're satisfied with the questions I've answered on Elijah's behalf, will you return me to where we began our evening?" She held out her hand for his, long fingers waving coquettishly.

He smiled in kind when she plucked a date from his hand, fingers closing around it too late to stop her.

Standing and straightening his hoodie, Mus'ad grasped her delicate hand in his. The museum archive faded away and they were soon back on the windy sidewalk where Una's car dropped her off. A biting gust whipped at the ends of her hair, stung Mus'ad's cheeks but he still brought her hand to his lips where they brushed the backs of her knuckles. "Thank you for this evening."

Her fingers were delicately tapered, her grip light upon the Jinn, but they both knew that was merely a useful deception. Once they were standing on the street again, she freed a hand to pin back the wild flight of her hair as he brushed his lips across her knuckles.

"The pleasure was all mine," she said in his native Arabic and then turned on her heel, the warmth lingering on her knuckles tucked into the hollow of her throat as she strolled down the sidewalk and melted into the shadows.

(Thank you to Una Mia for the scene. )

Unfettered · Date: 2017-02-05 16:30 EST

Home, but not-home.

The apartment materialized around him, the Jinn safely ensconced within the bedroom. The great wide windows that looked over the city provided no protection from the glaring light of the dense, grey clouds. Squinting, Mus?ad turned on his heel and headed for his office.

Lifting a hand to turn on the light, he noticed a fine tremor in his fingers and paused, sucking in a breath. Clenching that hand into a tight fist, the Jinn cursed and strode quickly to a plain section of wall situated between two tapestries. Forcing himself to remain calm, one finger painted glowing script upon the wall from right to left. A panel of wall disappeared to reveal a small recessed space that held a few choice treasures.

A small purple bag was plucked from the pile and carried to the kitchen.

Damn the Fae, damn their retribution and damn Owen Ramsey.

With a sharp bite of his teeth and a jerk of his chin, the bag was opened with his mouth, the contents dumped into a glass of water. White powder clumped on the surface while individual granules succumbed to the surface tension of the water and drifted slowly downward. It looked like a snow globe until a spoon was jammed into the mess and stirred hastily, turning the slow snowfall into a chalky vortex.

Mus?ad did not have the luxury of an episode, not today.

Chugging down the mixture, some spilled from the corners of his mouth to dot the front of his coat. The hand at his side remained in a white knuckled grip after the glass was emptied and didn?t relax until the Jinn could be sure that it was completely steady.

While he waited, Mus?ad stared out the window, silent and moody as he tried to figure out what to offer the Mordants so they would call off the dogs. His mother excelled at this sort of thing and would have an answer in moments but it would take time to contact her and await an answer. This had to be dealt with today.

In his office, the hidden cache was revealed again and this time, Mus?ad contemplated each item slowly, weighing its value as part of a strategy. The Mordants were old and affluent, they would not accept a common trinket.

Finally, he pulled out a lady?s fan, the ebony wood still as shiny with lacquer as the day it was created. The pleated fabric was snapped open with a flick of his wrist, sighing softly at the scene depicted in carefully embroidered metallic thread spun by one of the Fae. It was something he was loathe to part with but knew they would be greedy to have it back in the fold.

A wave of his fingers hid the treasures. It was time to prepare for battle.

Unfettered · Date: 2017-02-11 21:35 EST

The butler showed Mus?ad to the study, where he awaited Quinn Mordant. The atmosphere in the house was tense, more so than should be expected in the city home. Even in the sunny study where literature and art waited to entertain his roving eye, Mus?ad could not ease the slight hunch of his shoulders, scapulas defined underneath his clothing.

The windows were charmed to show idyllic pastoral scenes of the old country. They held up well against the large painting that hung above the ornate mantel. It depicted a celebration, nymphs and satyrs laughing and dancing while the Wild Hunt watched on, clapping and playing instruments in the middle of a clearing. The hearth was dark and cold, despite the weather, and the Jinn noticed how temperate the room was, that he was tempted to shrug out of his jacket.

No sooner was the thought dismissed then the door opened. Expecting the son, Mus?ad was surprised to see Odaline, Quinn?s mother. Her austere features were not softened by brilliant green eyes or copper curls hanging so prettily over her shoulder. Her bow mouth was pinched and tight, a hard look directed at the Jinn as he gave his customary greeting.

Lips parted to offer pleasantries but Odaline cut him off. ?Sit.?

Smiling warmly and inclining his head, the Jinn took a seat, one knee crossing the other, fingers steepled loosely in front of him.

The butler had left them alone without even an offer of refreshment; it was meant as an insult though Mus?ad let it pass without mention.

?Why have you come to my home?? The question, though warranted, was delivered as an accusation, suspicion gleaming in Odaline?s narrowed eyes.

?There seems to be a misunderstanding between us. I would like to clear the air, if I may.?

Odaline snorted, turning her face to the windows, brows lifted in pure hauteur. ?You sent people to destroy my home and steal from me. What is there to misunderstand.?

?I did not send them there with a purpose. I was otherwise engaged for the evening and thought an acquaintance of mine might enjoy herself. I did not know of their intentions.?

?I find your pretense of ignorance insulting. And you sent a Cristea,? spitting Una?s surname across the room.

?I was also unaware of the deterioration between your families. I am newly arrived after many decades away, my information was not what it should have been.?

?Hidden away,? she purred in a sing song voice, smiling dangerously at the Jinn. ?Where were you, all this time, Mus?ad? Pining over Tamlin or trying to forget him??

An indulgent smile curved his mouth, eyes crinkling at the corners. ?I have not thought of him in so very long, thank you for the pleasant reminder.?

Odaline?s face hardened. ?What do you offer in recompense for the damage wrought in your name??

Stifling a sigh, Mus?ad chuckled. ?It was not in my name, as I am certain you have discovered with the creature you sent to watch me.?

?What we discovered is that you spend much time with the criminals in question. You can hardly deny collusion.? Her upper lip curled in an ugly sneer and Mus?ad was reminded of why he disliked the Fae.

?Then you would also know that I was angered to discover what they had done at the party and it has driven a wedge between us.?

?Is that all you give? A soured partnership?? She drew in a breath, as if to launch into a tirade, but the Jinn stopped her by raising a hand.

?No. That is not all I offer. I was not complicit in this act but ignorance bears its own punishments.? Hands were held in front of him in offering and seconds later, a folded black hand fan appeared, resting across his palms.

Odaline?s eyes narrowed even further and he wondered if she could see at all. ?What is that??

?Invidia?s Shield.?

Her back straightened as she tried to hide her surprise. ?That hasn?t been seen for centuries.?

?I know. It was my family that guarded it.?

?Guarded it? You mean stole it??

?The truth of its procurement is lost to the ages,? he said with a smile. ?But we have kept it safe and preserved it from thieves and ruin all this time.?

?How kind of you,? acid dripping from the words.

?It is this I offer to breach the gap between us.?

Odaline was quiet many long moments while considering the offer, staring hungrily at the fan. Her pride demanded more but it would be a great victory to reclaim a Fae relic. Finally, she said, ?I will accept this. For the debt of our desecrated ancestors in the crypt. However, for those freshly killed, I require something further.?

Mus?ad inclined his head. ?Of course.?

Odaline rose to her feet and straightened her skirts, a cold and mirthless smile stretching her mouth at an unappealing angle. ?I have an engagement but we will talk further. Leave the shield with Adalon.?

Gritting his teeth, Mus?ad could do nothing but comply, rising and bowing over his hands before she swept from the room.

Unfettered · Date: 2017-03-06 01:33 EST

Lightning flashed across the sky, carving out singular moments and preserving them in a burst of vision that was cut short as the deep rumble of thunder echoed through the Jinn?s bones. Rain pelted in sheets that he watched purge the cityscape underneath his balcony, green eyes squinted against it.

Icy water soaked his clothing, dripped from the ends of his hair into his eyes, ran in rivulets down the valley of his spine. Skin prickled, tight and frigid, fingers hard to manage but he stood stubbornly in the rain, waiting.

Thunder cracked directly overhead, swift and frightening, louder than the wind. His heart jumped each time with a primal reaction that couldn?t be tamed, the caveman part of his brain urging him to seek shelter and warmth in the name of self preservation.

A tightly clenched jaw kept his teeth from chattering, the only control he could find over a body that wanted to betray him.

His shield was his willpower, the adamant refusal to give up until this work was complete.

Another half hour passed, muscles seizing with violent shivers, folded in on himself to preserve the last shreds of warmth. His mind ceaselessly inspected every gust of wind that howled past. Turning to the north, Mus?ad looked toward the horizon where he knew the Mordant estate to be.

Solomonari.

It made so much sense and Mus?ad blamed himself for not seeing it before. The warnings, the symbols etched into the key players, the link to the spell that held the Jinn captive for so long. They were powerful, dangerous, but it was too late for caution. Too late for self preservation. The only choices left were fight or flight.

Subtle as the sound of a bird?s wing riding the air currents, something brushed against his awareness. It traveled swiftly, surfing the unstable eddies.

Mus?ad disappeared from view, chasing it all the way to its target.

Odaline Mordant.