The Conjurer (The Vine Witch #3)(57)
The people were drenched, but at least the immediate threat was over. The howling storm, however, continued to rage. Yanis and Jean-Paul helped herd the terrified passengers into the depot and out of the path of the haboob. Some did ask, hesitantly, why the entire depot crew was asleep on the floor. In their shock, none seemed to notice when they never received an explanation.
Elena found Jean-Paul in the crowd, shivering and exhausted. She lit a fire in the lobby stove and said a quick spell to warm the room. The worst of the fear was beginning to wear off the passengers as they evaluated their injuries and came to terms with what they’d witnessed. Sand and wind continued to batter the depot, but the walls held firm. Elena chanced a look out the window and couldn’t even see the village through the haze. What damage was being done atop the hill? Where was Sidra? Yvette? Camille? Were they sheltered or already battling Jamra and his demons? And where was that dog? Wasn’t he one of them? Couldn’t he do something? But he hadn’t come inside, and he was nowhere to be seen on the platform.
She would have to go out again. She must. But first she was going to have to do something about the two dozen mortals in the depot waiting room muttering to themselves about winged fire creatures. Yanis seemed to come to the same conclusion as he approached her bearing the braid of sweetgrass and incense from his bag.
“We can do it if we work quickly but quietly,” he said.
“What does he mean?” Jean-Paul removed his glasses to wipe the dirt off the lenses.
“I’m sorry, my love, but we have to go help the others.”
“Others?”
“Sidra and Yvette. Camille and the dog too. They could already be in danger.”
“A dog? You can’t be serious.” He slipped his glasses back on. “It’s mayhem out there.”
“Which is why we have to go. They can’t face this alone.”
Jean-Paul pulled her aside. “Elena, we should all get on the train and head in the other direction. Go back home. Whatever those things are, they just tried to kill dozens of people. They have wings made out of fire, for God’s sake.”
“They want to do more than just kill a few passengers,” she said. “This is Jamra’s doing. He’s the one who called up this storm. He’s the one who summoned those demons. If he has his way, he’ll unleash havoc on the world and kill every mortal he can. But, yes, let’s go home to our quiet vineyard and wait it out and hope for the best, while people we know and care about are left to face him alone.”
Jean-Paul’s lawyerly side was ready to argue still. Elena held a finger to his lips. No magic, no spell, just waiting for him to see what must be done.
“Right,” he said at last, dropping his shoulders as he looked at the beaten and shocked faces of the passengers around him. “You’re right. That maniac jinni has to be stopped before he does this to anyone else.” He wiped away the tiny particles of sand that clung to her cheek. “Can you do it? Can your magic stop him?”
She didn’t want to lie or give him false hope, but if she didn’t believe it possible, she would never be able to summon the courage to go back outside. “If we all work together, but we must hurry.”
He kissed her hand, held her tight, then got out of the way.
Elena began by setting the end of the sweetgrass rope in the stove and quietly cleansing her athame with the smoke. Once satisfied it had been purified, she paced the room in a circle, which often meant waiting for a woman in a drenched hat with drooping ostrich feathers to move out of her way so she could continue the ritual unnoticed. When she’d completed the circle, Yanis lit the incense, letting the scent fill the room. As nonchalantly as possible, the two stood in the center of the circle and cast a quick calming spell. Not quite a sleeping spell, but the warmth from the stove and the scent of the smoldering sweetgrass wove together with the incantation to keep those in the room sedated.
Elena hoped Jean-Paul would forgive her, but there’d been no way to exclude him, being a mortal. She raised her hands in the sacred pose and thanked the All Knowing for hearing her intentions. Yanis finished his acknowledgment to the All Seeing, and then they pulled their scarves over their faces. She’d meant to kiss Jean-Paul once more before leaving but couldn’t find him in the crowd of slumped bodies. She stepped over outstretched legs and tilted the heads of the few young men in the room, yet he was nowhere to be found. And then she knew.
Elena left the safety of the building, entering the swirling sand and wind, and there was Jean-Paul waiting on the platform, a woman’s lace-trimmed fichu tied over his nose and mouth.
“We go together or not at all,” he shouted over the din.
Yanis and Elena looked at each other, then back at Jean-Paul. Elena handed him a chunk of amethyst. Yanis offered him a bronze talisman from his pocket. And then the three of them trudged up the hill to where the storm spun in a violent vortex above the village. The dog emerged from the train and limped quietly behind, stopping every few feet to look over his shoulder.
CHAPTER THIRTY
A whirling funnel descended onto the roof of the clock tower below. From it spun Jamra, flanked by two fire demons. Sidra had been waiting, watching the storm develop from atop the cathedral’s bell tower across the street. This, she knew from observing the birds, was where she would meet her nemesis.
The girl and the perfume witch, exhausted from their night’s effort, were tucked away in the shop several streets over. There was little long-term protection inside those walls, but it would do for the moment. They had put the town of mortals to sleep, then hunkered down to wait for the worst of the storm to land. When the wind and sand hit full force, Sidra escaped to the rooftop to meet her enemy. And there he was, staring up at her with the searing blaze of hate smoldering in his eyes.