Stifled (Summoned Book 2) Read online

  “We have to block the smoke from getting under the door,” she says between small coughs.

  The smoke is already trickling into the room.

  “Here, lemme help.” I wave her back, then reach up with my free hand and shove the bookcase over. It topples onto its side. The crash heard around the world.

  “Dimitri!”

  “What? They already know we're here.”

  I turn to take in the room. The only way out is the window, but that should lead to the side yard. If I'm right that this is a trap, those guys are around the corner in the backyard. They might hear our escape. Too risky.

  But the front of the house is on fire.

  “Try to find something you can stuff up against the bottom of the door,” I say. “That shelf will only do so much.”

  Syd frowns and begins prodding around the room. I will never understand how she stays calm. I'm sweating, and not just from the ten-pound jacket. Syd over there looks like she's taking inventory of a stock room.

  Sirens blare outside.

  I spring to the window and shove back the curtains. Venetian blinds. I pass Syd my gun. She glances at the door, neck taut. I pull the flat-head screwdriver from my pocket.

  Smoke tickles across my face. This room will become suffocating before long.

  I reach up and pop open the blind brackets, one side then the other. The smell of smoke grows. My throat starts to burn again. I pull out the blinds and toss them aside.

  Syd reaches over to unlatch the window. She pushes the pane aside. I take the guns, pocketing one. She hastens over the sill into the side yard. I follow right behind her.

  She starts to head toward the back patio. My heart jolts. I grab her arm and point up. To the roof.

  More sirens approach. Tires crunch, coming to a stop at front of the house. The sounds of car doors and talking follows.

  I crouch down and boost Syd up to the roof. She scrabbles for it then gets her leg up over the edge. I offer her the butt of one of the guns. She takes it, skittering back as I step up on the window sill and pull myself onto the roof. It's like a chin up from hell. She grabs my jacket sleeve, and I roll onto my back.

  I try to hear around the sound of my heart about to rupture in my chest.

  Syd sits next to me. “They're not going to shoot us with the fire department here—are they?”

  “No, probably not.” I look over at her, still panting. I probably need to start working out. “I bet they already left.”

  “So, let's get the hell out of here.” She starts to stand, but I grab her pant leg.

  “Slow down, Speed Racer. If the fire department catches us, they'll think we lit the fire.”

  Syd opens her mouth to say something. A loud pop and crackling cuts her off.

  A wave of heat rolls over us.

  I rise to my elbows. Flames shoot up the roof. I scramble to my feet.

  Someone coughs. I duck down, then creep toward the edge overlooking the backyard. The patio cover blocks most of my view, but I catch a glimpse of men shuffling about on the ground. Men in black outfits.

  So they didn't take off, after all.

  We're surrounded, and the roof is going to collapse sooner rather than later.

  I scan the area for an escape route. There isn't one. I'm not even convinced my fan club won't take out the firefighters to get to us.

  I pull back before anyone notices me. Something glimmers in the sunlight, and I turn toward the neighboring yard.

  Specifically, the neighbor's pool.

  It sits a few feet on the other side of the shared fence. The roof we're crouched on is too far to make the jump. The patio cover, however, might do the trick.

  We would have to be fast because we will be running right over the heads of the armed guys below.

  I can't believe I'm contemplating doing this. Not like there is any other choice.

  I hold out my hand to Syd and whisper, “Hand me those papers you took from the office.”

  Her lips thin, but she reaches into her pocket while still sitting and pulls them out. I stuff the papers into my jacket—waterproof pocket—and zip up.

  The flames are getting a little too close for comfort. I try not to inhale too deeply. One cough, and game over.

  I lean in to Syd's ear. “Ready to go for a swim?”

  I point to the pool and her gaze follows.

  She looks peaked. “Dim. . .”

  The light of the flames shimmers off her cheeks.

  Something cracks under us. My heart stops for nanosecond.

  Shouldn't the fire department have put this campfire out already?

  Syd swallows visibly, then nods.

  I inhale a deep breath, the air tainted with smoke, and take a final glance over the yard. There's just no other way out. Hell, I'm not even certain this is one.

  I shift on my feet, crouched down. Then I bolt. The shingles crunch under my soles. I drop to the patio cover.

  Someone below yells.

  I pick up my pace and jump. For two seconds, I'm certain I'm going to hit the ground like Wile E. Coyote.

  Then I plunge feet first into the pool. Air jars from my lungs in a rush of bubbles. I push upward. Before I've even caught a lungful of air, I'm scrambling up the siding. I don't look back, just run.

  And hope to God that Syd is behind me.

  I shove open the gate and keep running. Past the front of the burning house. Past the fire trucks. Past the ambulance. I round the corner, hair dripping in my face, and head straight for the park.

  The soles of my shoes squeak on the cement as I jet toward the car. My wet fingers fumble to unlock the door with the fob.

  I turn to look behind me. No Syd.

  Without a second thought, I drop into the car, crank the ignition, and whip out of the parking lot. As I floor it toward the burning house, Syd charges down the sidewalk. I pull to the curb, tires screeching.

  Syd flies around the front of the car and clambers inside. I make a U-turn, slamming the gas before she's even closed the door.

  She falls back in the seat, gasping. After a moment, she reaches up with a lazy hand and wipes the droplets off her face.

  “Dim,” she says, without opening her eyes, “we're in a shitload of trouble.”

  Back at the hotel, Syd and I strip out of our wet clothes and slip on dry ones from our luggage. We don't speak. I disassemble the guns and lay them out on a clean towel on the vanity. Then I pack up everything that wasn't submerged in the pool.

  We have to leave. I have no idea where we're going, but we will be out of here before sunrise. Those guys knew we were visiting the murder sites. It's only a matter of time before they show up at the hotel.

  I don't know what they want me for, but I only have one idea how to find out: let them take me. The thought makes me nauseous. Pretty sure they aren't pro-genie.

  I lay face up on the bed and close my eyes.

  Syd is probably right. Eileena is up to something, but I have no idea where she is hiding out. Not like we added each other on Facebook after I shot her spawn in the head and blew up her mansion.

  The mattress bounces a little as Syd sits on the edge. “Isn't this used for websites?”

  I open my eyes. She's staring at an index card.

  “Is that from the house?”

  She nods and hands me the card. It's a little flimsy but surprisingly preserved for having been eight feet under water. Pretty sure that was not the intention of the waterproof jacket pocket. Would make a great testimonial.

  The card contains a handwritten user name, password, and FTP address.

  “It's used to transfer files,” I say. “Websites included.”

  “Can you check it out?”

  I shrug. “If I had a computer, sure.”

  “The hotel has wireless.” She rises to her feet. “I can go get a laptop.”

  With a smirk, I tug her back down to me. I raise onto my elbows and latch my mouth onto hers. She leans in, one knee on the mattress. My hand slides a
long the bottom of the back of her shirt. I slip my tongue into her mouth.

  She gives in so freely, parts of me come alive in anticipation. My hand works under the waist of her pants, cupping her ass.

  I break the kiss just enough to say, “You should totally shower before you leave. With me.”

  She moans in a way that sounds like approval, but pulls away. My hand slides out from her pants.

  “Not yet,” she says. “Need to see if anything useful came of nearly breaking our necks.”

  I sigh and lay back on the bed. She leaves without another word. If we were back in Phoenix, I could just swing by my old house to use my computer. I like the thought, even though the house and everything in it—including me—belonged to Karl.

  Silvia would have inherited Karl's assets when he died. At least, that's how I understood the arrangement. Not sure how that settled with Eileena.

  But if Eileena hasn't managed to claim what's left of Karl's empire, it belongs, technically, to Syd.

  That means my house belongs to Syd.

  My computer belongs to Syd.

  My everything belongs to Syd.

  I should be okay with that, but I'm not.

  ***

  Syd returns a while later with a new laptop and a couple of sub sandwiches. My stomach grumbles. We haven't eaten in forever.

  I claim the table, setting up the laptop while eating. It takes a while for everything to charge and install and get rolling. Not like I really mind. I spent a lot of time goofing around online in between fulfilling Karl's cracked-out wishes. It's kind of relaxing to be chilling in front of a screen again.

  Syd sits on the bed to eat and watch TV. She seems to be zoning, which has to be a good thing. I think her brain is overclocked and about to burn out. Mine certainly is.

  Finally, I install the FTP client, type in the information from the card, and press the connect button. I expect the credentials to be rejected.

  They're not.

  The screen scrolls down as the login initializes and the file list populates.

  And damn if there aren't files.

  I browse through the directories. They have names like “Archives” and “Members”. The files are mostly documents, titled with dates and people's names.

  I drag the whole mess to a folder on the desktop and lean back while the files transfer. “Got some goodies for you, Syd.”

  She turns to me and blinks a few times. She was totally zoning out.

  Then reality sets on her face again.

  She throws away her sub wrapper and comes up to to stand behind me. “So it was a website?”

  “Not really. Looks like a storage server. People really don't know much about Internet security.”

  “I guess they didn't expect a jinn to kill them,” she says, absently.

  I tip my head back to look up at her with a fiendish grin. “The fun is in the surprise.”

  “Ian wasn't surprised, you said. Wonder if the other targets were.” She walks back to the bed and plops down. “And if they did know she was coming, why didn't they do anything about it? Fear is a great motivator.”

  “Yes, it is, and the jinn have more to fear.”

  She looks away. After a moment, she sighs. “Well, what are the files for?”

  “I don't know. Seems like company documents or something. The download is finished.” I push back from the chair and stand. “All yours.”

  We exchange spots. While she starts perusing the files, I use my phone to search for another hotel. The problem is, I have no idea where we're going next. I contemplate asking Syd, but decide against it. I doubt I will agree with her next plan of action, and I'm too tired to deal with a fight.

  Instead, I do some searches for Eileena Walker. I suspect that, short of hiring a PI, I won't find anything about her. As it turns out, I'm correct.

  Ian Cook doesn't exist on the Internet, either.

  I plug in my phone to charge, then lay on my back and flip through the TV channels. There are maybe a dozen, but I'm not really interested in watching anything, anyway. I'm more concerned with the look on Syd's face. She's scowling and reading at rapid speed, then clicking and scowling some more.

  This can't be good.

  I want to ask what mayhem we have stumbled into now, but I don't want to break her concentration. She looks like she's trying to solve quantum mechanic equations with her mind.

  At length, she glances up at me. “Quit staring.”

  “Can't help it. You have great boobs.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Check this out.”

  “I'm beginning to dread those words.”

  She unplugs the laptop and brings it over to the bed. “Read this document.”

  I take the laptop and skim through the open file. It's some kind of contract. Attendance requirements, division of shares. It all starts to blur together.

  I look up at her. “Got the Cliff's Notes version?”

  “Yeah, it's—I could be wrong, but, well. . .” She leans over and pages down a few times. “Just read the top line.”

  All jinn are to reside with their respective masters. Each house will. . .

  My eyes go back to the words “jinn” and “masters”.

  Then my gaze settles on the word “all”.

  All jinn.

  “How many?” My voice is choked, but I'm not really feeling anything. Yet.

  “There's a list of about fifty names,” she says. “Assuming they're all masters, that means there are—”

  “Fifty jinn,” I say.

  My skin crawls. Fifty jinn. Fifty people being forced to kidnap and kill and God knows what else.

  “Yeah, it looks like these documents belong to something called JiNet,” she says. “It's like a hobby group for masters.”

  “Great.” I hand the laptop back to her. “So they can discuss over wine and cheese what sadistic quests they send the jinn on.”

  I wish I hadn't eaten. My stomach isn't handling the news so well all at once.

  Fifty people living in servitude with no chance at escaping. I knew I was lucky for winding up with someone willing to free me. Now luck doesn't even describe it.

  “Is Karl on that member list?” I cringe at my own question.

  Syd returns to the table and sets down the laptop. “I just scanned the names, but I didn't see him or Eileena. I did see Ian Cook in here, but no contact information. So we know he's wrapped up in the jinn and not just an innocent target. Would be nice if we could chat with him about what's going on. There are a lot of documents to read, and they're not very organized. Still going through them.”

  Judging by the tone of her voice, she isn't coming to bed tonight. On the other hand, I can't think of a better option than passing out for a long time.

  I had once thought my family line was the only one with the genie bond. Syd had assumed there would be more. But California isn't hiding one or two jinn.

  It's hiding a hell of a lot of them.

  ***

  When I wake up, daylight is shining through the window. So much for being out of this hotel before sunrise.

  Syd is still staring at the laptop screen. Her face is red. She looks like she's about to fall over with exhaustion. Despite her scowl, I know there's a ball of glee tumbling around in her brain.

  She wanted nothing more than to find jinn. Real ones. She got exactly what she wanted.

  I untangle from the covers and sit on the edge of the bed. Syd glances up, but looks back to her screen without a word. I rub my hands over my face and hair, then stagger to the vanity.

  The guns should be dry. I start putting them back together.

  “It seems the masters live all over the US,” she says.

  I turn and push myself up on the counter. “Maybe they use Skype.”

  I continue assembling my guns.

  “Well. . .No,” she says. “Many of them live in San Diego, and they all meet here every month.”

  “I wonder if they have themed parties.”

  She
looks up at me.

  I shrug. “Costume contests? Every year it comes down to the guy who painted himself blue and the one who raps everything.”

  She blinks.

  “You're no fun when you're tired, Syd.”

  Her shoulders slump, and she leans back in her chair. “I really am exhausted.”

  “Get some rest.” I gesture toward the bed. “Do the documents mention if the jinn are magically delicious, or just your everyday serial killer like myself?”

  “No info about the jinn. It's just a haphazard collection of notes, not an organized archive.”

  “Probably why it was easy to get into.”

  She remains silent for a while.

  Then she says, “I have an idea.”

  “No, no matter how much it turns you on, I'm not painting myself blue.”

  “No, not—”

  I start singing the Prince Ali song. Well, the only two lines I know, and I'm not even sure when I picked those up.

  Syd growls. “Dimitri!”

  I look up with a grin. “Yes, dear?”

  She takes a deep breath. “I think we should check out this JiNet thing.”

  “'Course ya do.” I hop down from the vanity and bring my guns into the main room. “But I'm taking my lock-drilling, dog-escaping, roof-leaping skills off the market. From now on, I'm using the front door.”

  “Well, that's kinda what I mean.”

  I halt and size her up. She has that look. The one she gets right before she reveals how I'm going to hate my life for a noble cause.

  “I think we should use the front door,” she says. “We should go to JiNet and introduce ourselves.”

  I fake a laugh. “Good one, Syd. Tell me another.”

  “Come on, Dim, think about it.”

  I place my guns on the nightstand. “No.”

  “This is an amazing opportunity—for both of us.”

  “I've had enough amazing opportunities in my life,” I say. “How about some less amazing ones?”

  She scoots out the chair and stands. “There are fifty masters there. We could learn so much.”

  “That's what I'm afraid of.” I drop onto the edge of the bed. “Besides, I presume you would need a genie. Pretty sure it'll be a membership requirement. We don't have one.”

  “Well, no,” she says in that approaching-dangerous-territory tone. “But we could. . .pretend.”