•   •   •

THE JOURNEY TO the palace should’ve taken only fifteen minutes, but it took twice as long. We went over the plan again. Curran had come up with the strategy, and his plans usually worked. Getting everyone to stick to it was another matter entirely. I had asked Nick if he’d brought any more of the Galahad warheads, to which he asked me just how many of the ten-thousand-dollar warheads I thought he was authorized for. I told him that brevity was a virtue and “no” would’ve been just fine as a response, and then Luther had to give us his “save the city and stop bickering” speech.

Gradually dirt became sand, flowers gained aroma, and moisture saturated the air. About ten feet from the red palace steps, the illusion evolved into reality. I stopped to draw some blood. I could’ve probably done it earlier, but I didn’t want to take chances with its potency. We passed between the colossal columns into a shadowed hall, our steps loud on the polished stone. A throne stood at the end of the hall, a massive carved chair of stone, painted with garish abandon. A woman of incredible beauty sat on the throne. Her dark hair, arranged in artful spiral waves, fell on her diaphanous gown of pale gold and blue. Gold chains wove through her hair, a necklace of blood-red rubies rested around her neck, and a single large earring, its simplicity jarring and out of place, decorated her left ear. A black panther sat by her throne, and the woman stroked the beast’s head with her long fingernails. Oh boy. I had walked into an old Sinbad movie. Too bad the monsters wouldn’t be Claymation.

Men stood behind the throne, brandishing swords. Some were dark skinned, some lighter, some clothed, others mostly nude, but each was a perfect, handsome male specimen. I did a quick head count. At least forty. She had her own private army of male models.

I reached forward with my magic and met the familiar resistance. That was a hell of a lot of magic and it was wrapped around her like a shield. Using power words directly against her would be out of the question. Attacking her right now was out of the question, too.

“She’s shielded,” Luther said behind me.

“What he said,” I confirmed. “The djinn is pouring every drop of his power into protecting her. We don’t have enough firepower to break through it. We have to get her to transform so she’ll stop shielding and start attacking.”

“That means she’d have to make a wish,” Luther pointed out. “If she wishes for the ceiling to crush us, there isn’t much we can do about that.”

“The ifrit is an old power,” I said. “They’re not complicated and they respond well to drama. The ifrit will want to break us himself and see us suffer. We need to nudge her toward a fight.”

Bahir pulled the hood of his cloak over his face. “Two-thirds of her belongs to the djinn. Leave it to me.”

“Not until I talk to her,” Nick said. “She is a knight of the Order.”

I glanced at Curran. He shrugged. We could wait a couple of extra minutes in our rush to die to make sure Nick’s conscience was clear.

“Remember, he will cover her in metal,” Curran said. “The faster we hit, the better.”

“Can your sword slice through metal?” a female knight asked me.

“We’ll find out,” I told her. I’d had just about enough of giants. I had a surprise for the djinn and I couldn’t wait to show it off.

We reached the throne. The woman gazed at us. Flames rolled over her eyes and died down.

“You should fire your interior decorator,” I told her. I couldn’t help myself.

The woman gave no indication she heard me. That’s the trouble with ancient powers—no sense of humor.

“This is nice,” Nick said, stepping forward. “You had your fun, Sam. Time to come home.”

“I am home,” the woman said, her voice rolling through the cavernous hall.

“This isn’t you. This is not what we do,” Nick said. “You have a job and a duty to the Order. You swore an oath.”

“This is me,” she said. “I spent years examining objects of power and resisting their call. Now it’s my turn. I’ve earned this. I am worthy.”

She sounded distant, the emotion in her voice muted, as if she’d been sedated. Right. Samantha was gone.

“What happens when the magic ends?” I asked, slipping the backpack off my shoulder. I had brought the last of my undead blood supply for this. Here’s hoping it would be enough.

“The magic will never end here,” she said. “All of the pleasures are mine in this place. Forever. But you don’t belong here. This place is for me alone. Leave and I will spare you.”