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brought forth this great nation.
    So, maybe it wasn’t a djinn problem. I mean, just because Patel wrote about them and was a world-renowned expert on them didn’t mean that he couldn’t have a much more ordinary problem.
    I told myself this. Unfortunately, I didn’t believe it. That little niggling voice in the back of my mind was pretty sure we’d be dealing with the djinn and that I should “just say no.”
    I should listen to my instincts more often.

 
    3
    I saw Rahim Patel before he saw me. Weapons stowed and outfit changed, I was coming down the stairs from my office and spotted him standing in front of the reception desk.
    First impression: he was pretty. He was not handsome, at least not to my mind. His features were too soft for that. Slender, he stood five foot six or so. His eyes were lovely, wide and dark, with just a hint of laugh lines at the corners. His lips were full, with a cupid’s bow, very kissable, but not very manly. While he wasn’t a big man, he held himself with poise and confidence. His suit was high quality, well tailored, and immaculate. The white shirt he wore stood in stark contrast to the dark caramel color of his skin, and against his black suit it was so bright that it practically glowed.
    His appearance was perfect—which seemed a little odd to me in light of the fact that Dawna claimed he’d been in such a panic. I’ve found that people who are that upset don’t take time to polish their appearance. Then again, he might have stopped at a hotel to change so he would make a good impression.
    â€œGood afternoon, Mr. Patel.”
    He turned to face me and extended his hand. “Ms. Graves, thank you so much for agreeing to see me. I know this isn’t a convenient time for you, but the situation really is urgent.”
    He looked me up and down as I approached. I could tell from his expression that I didn’t quite look the way he’d expected. Oh, I was still five ten and leggy, but I hadn’t had a lot of publicity since the debut of my new, very trendy, very short hairstyle. And my eyes were no longer gray; they were blue, thanks to a brush with the same heavy-duty magic that was killing Bruno’s mother.
    As we shook hands, I caught a glimpse of what looked like it might be a curse mark on his wrist, peeking out from beneath the cuff of his shirt. Interesting.
    â€œWould you like something to drink?” I really hoped he wouldn’t. The kitchen was at the far end of the building—next to what had once been the altar area. It hadn’t occurred to me until just that moment how inconvenient that was going to be for Dottie, who had to use a walker to get around. Crap. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw she’d already taken measures. A small table had been set up in her corner, with a coffeemaker and bowls of sugar and packaged creamer.
    â€œThank you. Your receptionist offered me something, but I said no.”
    I glanced at said receptionist, trying to get her nonverbal take on our client. Aside from the fact that she’s a powerful clairvoyant, she’s smart and observant. She doesn’t miss a thing, and she is cheerfully capable of using her age and seeming disability to gently bully people into revealing more than they intended … and doing things they hadn’t wanted to do.
    In short, she’s an absolute gem in the front office. I honestly don’t know what we’d do without her. Dottie doesn’t put in quite as many hours now that she’s married to Fred, but she gets the work done. In exchange, she gets a salary that is just barely below the amount that would screw up her benefits—and the opportunity to spend time with her beloved Minnie the Mouser, though the cat was nowhere to be seen at that moment.
    â€œLet’s head up to my office.” I gestured to the staircase, letting him take the lead. I don’t like having people behind me,