The Conjurer (The Vine Witch #3)(65)
Sidra had been caught by Jamra’s fiery whip and yanked off her feet so that she spun across the room. Elena lunged but was helpless to stop the attack. She waited for her friend to get up, to fight back with her fiery temper, but the jinni remained motionless in a heap on the floor.
Elena reached in her satchel, but a few sprigs of rosemary and a pouch of leftover salt weren’t going to be powerful enough to counter Jamra’s magic. No illusion she could summon would stop him from destroying everything and everyone inside the building to get what he wanted. Yanis shook his head, as befuddled as she was for a way to stop the jinni with their paltry tokens. Still, the bloodstone she’d tossed in her bag as an afterthought during her abduction called to her, so she slipped it into her palm.
Jamra waited a half beat to see if Sidra would rise. When she didn’t, he stood over her, nudging her with his boot as his lip curled over his eyetooth. Breath still moved through her lungs as her chest rose and fell under her robes, yet she did not awaken.
“Hey!” Yvette waved her hand to get Jamra’s attention. “I have it. I have that stupid dagger you’re looking for. Leave her alone and maybe I’ll show you.”
“When the jinniyah is dead, I will take my prize.” He drew the whip through his hands, as if savoring the feel of the flame.
The heat in his eye, the hate in his heart—Elena knew he would strike the life out of Sidra with his next blow. “You can’t do this!” she said, hoping to appeal to some sense of decency still residing inside the jinni. “She doesn’t deserve this.”
He took three steps to his right, deciding the best angle to deliver the final lash. “Deserve? She is a murderer. A thief. And now she will die for choosing to defy me.”
Jean-Paul put his arm in front of Elena and forced her back against the wall with the others. They huddled, helpless to interfere. The jinni played the tyrant, brandishing the whip over his head, winding it up, readying to unleash death. The whip drew back for the third time. The arm came forward. A trail of fire arced over the jinni’s head. Elena held her breath, cringing in anticipation of the terrible moment, but the sound she braced for didn’t come.
Before the whip made the journey to Sidra’s body, a window smashed in the lobby. The dog, whom she’d given up for dead, crashed through the glass, bounding inside the shop. Leaping off his powerful haunches, he sprang with lightning-quick speed just as the jinni snapped the fiery whip. The dog caught the rope of flame in his teeth and tugged until it came free of Jamra’s grip. He gave it a violent shake, as if it were a rabbit in his jaws, and the whip disintegrated into smoke.
“Jiminy, where’d he come from?” Yvette said. She and Elena used the distraction to inch closer to Sidra.
Blood dripped from two puncture wounds in the dog’s side. Elena would have hugged his furry mane and used her herbs to heal him, but the dog was still on the hunt. He growled and turned on Jamra. The dog’s powerful shoulders rolled forward as he set one paw down in front of the other, stalking the jinni.
Jamra backed away, inching closer to where Sidra still lay unconscious. “Who are you? This is not your fight. Leave us!”
The dog pressed forward, his growl rumbling into a hair-raising, vicious snarl as Jamra nearly stumbled over the pile of broken perfume bottles. Elena had witnessed fear in the jinni once before when the strange vision of Titania had briefly flashed in her shadow vision. That same look of alarm overtook his face now as the dog advanced, his teeth bared and ready to pounce. Soon there would be nowhere for Jamra to go but the ether, though Elena’s instinct told her he would be followed and hunted even there.
“What did he do to her?” Yvette glowed softly as she stroked Sidra’s forehead. “She’s not waking up.”
Obeying her intuition, Elena placed the bloodstone on Sidra’s third eye. Known for its restorative power, the stone could invigorate the circulatory system, cure a broken heart, or rid the body of toxins when matched with the correct spell. At least in humans. Because jinn were made of fire rather than true flesh, she reasoned the psychic gateway was the best position to apply the stone for maximum healing of her spirit.
The dog stopped his advance, tipping his ears toward Elena’s efforts. Jamra seemed to interpret the pause as a gesture of carelessness by his attacker. He stuck his hand out and grabbed Yvette by her hair, hauling her to her feet. She twisted in his grip and screamed until he put his arm around her neck, securing her in a choke hold. He pressed his lips close to her ear. “If this one means anything to any of you,” he warned, “the jinn mongrel will back away.” Jamra waited for the dog to decide. He tightened his grip on Yvette’s neck until her eyes squeezed shut in desperation. At last, the dog reversed his step. “Now,” Jamra whispered in Yvette’s ear, “give me that dagger.”
Yvette opened her eyes and searched everyone’s faces for what to do.
“Now!” Jamra jerked Yvette off her feet.
Elena drew her athame from her satchel. It was sacred to her. A tool for ritual work. But it also had a very sharp blade. She did not know for certain if jinn bled, but if he made one more threatening move, she would find out.
Suddenly, the silver light that had been hovering overhead began to flash and spin. Jamra halted his assault long enough to let his attention shift to the ceiling. “Who called this magic?” he bellowed.