Malphas smiled at him. “Hello, Julian.”

He snarled, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The Djinn lifted a shoulder in a casual-looking shrug. “When I heard Justine was looking to bargain with a Djinn, I decided to pay her a visit to see what she required. We had an interesting conversation, she and I.”

“You can’t bargain to help Justine,” Julian growled. “Pariahs might not keep their word, but you can’t afford to break the bargain you made with Tess and Soren. If you do anything to hurt anyone in the Nightkind demesne, or anyone Tess knows and cares about, Soren will open the envelope of information she gave him and distribute the contents to every gaming commission in the world.”

Malphas’s smile glittered with malice. “I can keep a bargain when it suits me, and I fully intend on keeping that one. However, there’s nothing in that agreement to keep me from offering to give you a ride if you want it. After all, I wouldn’t be hurting you. I would be helping you to get wherever you wanted to go. I can drop you off at the destination of your choice and be on my way. What happens to you after that is none of my business.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed. Clearly this was the Djinn’s way of getting revenge for Julian’s part in the confrontation that had trapped Malphas into making the bargain with Soren and Tess.

His mind raced as he tried to think of options, but Justine had planned too thoroughly and there weren’t any. With Malphas’s travel “assistance,” Julian would have no way to trace their paths or to find out the location of the meeting.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” said Malphas. “You’re trying to think your way out of the situation. But this time all of the cards are in Justine’s favor. You’d better hurry. From everything I’ve seen, I think she really likes to use that knife.”

“All right,” he bit out. Maybe he could think of something he could do once he came face-to-face with Justine.

Malphas raised an eyebrow. “ ‘All right’… what? Do you want me to do something for you?”

“Take me to where Justine and Melly are,” Julian snarled.

Smiling, the Djinn crossed his arms. “Did you ask me a question in there somewhere? I didn’t hear a request in that. I can’t imagine why I would do anything for you when you haven’t even said please.”

His fangs sprang out. Lowering his head, Julian stared at the Djinn. “I might be trapped at the moment,” he whispered. “But you don’t want to push me too far.”

“On the contrary.” Malphas returned his stare with one as implacable and hostile. “That’s precisely what I want to do – push you too far. Hurry up. I’m growing bored. You have no value to me if you stop being entertaining, and I couldn’t care less whether or not Justine slits the Light Fae princess’s throat.”

Julian sucked in a breath. He said, “Will you please take me to where Justine and Melly are?”

“That’s better.” Malphas’s smile returned. “Of course I will.”

As the Djinn strolled toward him, Julian had time to consider a few things.

Every old Vampyre had talents that increased with age, and he was no exception. His talents were persuasion and also the ability to hold on to his prey. If he got his hands on Malphas, the Djinn wouldn’t be able to dematerialize again until Julian either let him go or he was dead.

And he considered it.

He really considered it.

If he waited until after Malphas transported him to where Justine and Melly were, and he tried to call on Soren, he could force Malphas to stay until the other Djinn arrived.

But that was assuming Soren could hear him, or would choose to answer him if he did. Djinn made psychic connections to the people with whom they struck bargains. Those connections allowed them to hear when they were called, but Julian had always been careful to stay clear of Djinn obligations.

Witches were also able to put out calls to the Djinn with enough Power to make themselves heard, but Julian was no witch. Normally when he wanted to contact Soren, he did so in the most ordinary of ways, by phone.

Even if he were able to call Soren and the Djinn responded, the maneuver would kill him. Julian might be able to pin Malphas, but he couldn’t defeat the Djinn on his own. Malphas was too Powerful.

A first-generation pariah could only be destroyed if several Powerful creatures teamed up to take him down. It had been done before, but it was a risky and dangerous proposition, which was why the Demonkind only went after a rogue Djinn when they had no other choice. At their essence, they were social creatures, and their preferred method of punishment was to ostracize a Djinn who went rogue.

And none of that took into account what would happen to Melly in the precious seconds it would take Soren to arrive and assess the situation. Justine would have her throat slit before Soren could do anything to stop it.

They really were well and truly trapped.

So Julian said nothing as Malphas stepped close enough to lay a hand on his shoulder.

And he did nothing, as the Djinn’s whirlwind of Power rose up around him and carried him away.

Blood trickled down Melly’s neck from the stinging cut Justine had given her. She thought, dear lords and ladies, all I want in the whole wide world is a bath, a piña colada, and the chance to stake this bitch in the heart.

And please, gods, a nap in a real bed is mighty high on my list too.

None of those things appeared to be in her near future. Not only was Justine’s iron grip unbreakable, but Melly’s makeshift stake lay several feet away, hidden in the pathetic little nest she had carefully arranged so that it hid the damage she had done to the frame of the cot.

When Justine and Vampyre Guy had shown up earlier, they had given her plenty of warning at their approach, although she hadn’t understood what was happening until it was almost too late.

She had been hard at work staking ferals, which was a rotten, dangerous, tedious task, thank you very much. It was tough physical work, and her arm and shoulder tired quickly.

Horror was so much more fun on a movie set, where all the wounds were special effects applied by makeup artists, and there was a concession table with tasty snacks, and trailers with working plumbing, and weekend parties, and somebody else available to do her stunts whenever she didn’t feel like doing them.

In real life… there weren’t enough words to describe how much this sucked.