Djinn Justice (The Collegium Book 2) Read Online Free

“Speed junky.”
    He opened the door to the Range Rover. “I like cars. I’d show off the vintage Jag, but I noticed the cab jolting along the ruts last night. Winter rains destroy the road. When it’s resurfaced, we’ll travel in style.”
    “A Jaguar for a leopard?”
    “Smart ass.”
     
     
    The plane Steve had chartered was a luxury jet.
    “I thought you might fly yourself,” Fay said as they buckled in. The cloud-soft seats made Business Class in commercial travel resemble Cattle Class.
    “It’s easier to hire a jet with a pilot than without. And I prefer flying helicopters.”
    He’d done so in the jungles of the Congo and Laos.
    They’d worked in some remote places together. Back then, she’d refused to acknowledge her attraction to him. She’d been a Collegium guardian down to her bones. Her life hadn’t held space for a relationship. Now, she had the relationship, but no job. She figured she was ahead of the game.
    Even if she was flying off to meet a not-to-be-trusted djinn and Steve’s potentially hostile family.
    In the seat beside her, he bent forward to re-tie his bootlace as the plane gained height. The muscles of his neck showed strong where the collar of his shirt gaped. He was lethal in a fight, devastating as a lover, and the one person in the world that she trusted utterly.
    She leaned forward and tugged at his bootlace.
    He looked at her quizzically.
    “I have a question.” They stayed leaning forward, peering into one another’s faces. “With Uncle being a djinn, why aren’t we flying magic carpet?”
    An instant of shock—Steve had clearly expected a serious inquisition on what they’d encounter at the fort—and then, she was laughing, he was tickling her, and it all ended in kisses.

Chapter 2
     
    Defensive walls rose up, built of limestone the color of faded sepia prints; an abrupt intrusion in the crowded, narrow streets of Alexandria’s Souq district. The calls of sellers’ promoting their wares blurred with a hundred haggling transactions and the flow of gossip through the market. Tourists wandered, bemused and detached from the scene, bumped impatiently by busy locals, and bumped purposely by busy thieves.
    Beyond a colorful spice stall, a ten foot door studded with iron nails and darkened by age, broke the repelling blankness of the tower wall. To Fay, the massive door shimmered with magic. Any who entered through this doorway carrying a magical weapon would find its magic de-spelled. She put a hand to the cool limestone wall and felt an ancient pulse of power.
    The weres mightn’t use or be affected by magic, but someone had wrapped their Suzerain’s fort in its protection. People wouldn’t find the fort, let alone the doorway, unless they knew to look for it. A turn-away spell had gained potency through the centuries since it was cast, and now, the tower was probably all but unnoticeable, even by modern technology.
    Only weres, unaffected by magic, would see the walls and the fort within—and mages as powerful as Fay.
    “Rafe.”
    “Steve.” The spice seller returned Steve’s greeting and stared at Fay with the noncommittal, speculative gaze of a security guard. He was Steve’s age, around thirty.
    An older, much older, man sat in the shadows at the side of the stall. He’d be there to serve customers, while his young companion dealt with trouble. They were gatekeepers.
    Steve pushed open the door to the fort, holding it for Fay.
    She walked through. The spell to de-activate magical weapons touched her personal wards and recoiled, stung. The magic here was strong. She was stronger. But that mattered little when a djinn was involved. She lacked knowledge of djinni magic. Her specialty had been demons and evil. The djinni weren’t evil, as such. More like amoral.
    Once through the door, a flagstone path led to the true fort, the central keep tucked safe within defensive walls. Its double doors stood open. Narrow windows on the first floor gave way to barred