The color drained from Hank’s face.

“He summoned it, called it into my bathroom. He could’ve killed me, or taken me, but he didn’t …”

A low, astonished breath hissed through Hank’s lips. He rubbed a hand down his face. “And you’re okay? Em’s okay?”

“Everyone is fine. Brim ran him off. You know Emma can talk to him? Communicate with him?” The pride in my voice caught me off guard, especially after having been so overwhelmed by her revelation. Hank just stared at me, totally in a daze. “Yeah, I know, right? Welcome to the Madigan family, where strange is our middle name.”

He snorted softly. “You gotta stop with the bombshells this early in the morning. Don’t think my heart can take any more.”

“Well, lucky for you, that’s all I got.”

He rolled his chair back in front of his monitor, but I heard his muttered reply. “Trust me, that’s enough.”

10

Neither one of us had luck tracking the property records for the warehouse. And according to Ebelwyn’s receptionist, she didn’t know who had asked him to list the property for sale or even the whereabouts of her boss—he hadn’t shown up for work, and he wasn’t answering calls or his front door.

Unfortunately for us, the one person who had his finger on the pulse of Underground and could probably tell us Ebelwyn’s whereabouts was the person I only wanted to see again if it was through a pair of cold cell bars or down the nozzle of my Nitro-gun. Grigori Tennin.

At least it’s not raining. I tried to look at the bright side as I jogged down the concrete steps that led to the main plaza in Underground and then proceeded at a sharp clip over the old brick pavers, past the fountain, heading to the shop fronts along the head of Solomon Street. They were crowded with inventory, packed inside and out. Peddlers set up shop wherever they could find space, often in the middle of the street or lurking from the alley shadows.

Once you turned onto Solomon Street, though, the old-fashioned streetlamps became dimmer, the glass covered in soot and grime from the open-air fires and the system of underground tunnels, caves, and homes dug straight beneath the street by the jinn, who preferred living within the earth. Peddlers pushed carts full of food, stones, spells, herbs, and snacks. It was like walking through a dark, otherworldly kasbah in the heart of Cairo.

It had to be pushing ninety degrees, and the choked, crowded atmosphere only made it seem hotter. The smells here were intense, too—earthy and humid, filled with the scents of meats, body odor, smoke, and the distinct scent of tar, which signified a large jinn population.

We weaved our way down the street, aware of the violet eyes that glowed dimly from the darkness. From the moment we entered Charbydon territory, the jinn tracked our movement. They ruled Solomon Street, and I’d guess right about now, Grigori Tennin was being told of our arrival.

We’d planned on invading the Lion’s Den, Grigori’s headquarters at the dead end of the street, but halfway down Solomon, two jinn warriors in battle regalia—Grigori’s personal female guard—stepped out from the shadows. My hand rested casually on the hilt of my weapon as we approached. The female warriors were as dangerous as the males. They were tall, muscular, with the same smooth, sooty gray skin and vicious tempers. The only difference (besides gender) was that the females had hair where the males were completely bald. And who knows, they might’ve been pretty, in an Amazon sort of way, if not for the scowls.

“Girls,” I greeted once we were close enough to speak.

They ignored my sarcasm. “Grigori is not here,” one of them said.

Hank shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced around the crowded street. “And I don’t suppose you know where he is at the moment.”

One of them smirked.

On any other occasion, I would’ve pressed the issue, but after the morning I’d had, I was a little relieved to not have to deal with Tennin. “Tell him we’ll be by later.” I did a one-eighty and wound my way back through a thick patch of carts and crates.

Hank caught up and grabbed my arm from behind. It was too congested to walk side by side. “What gives, Madigan?”

“Tennin’s not going to give us the info we need.” I sidestepped a small jinn boy racing after a stray cat with a homemade bow.

“If it benefits him in some way, he would.”

“And if it doesn’t—no, thank you,” I told the spell-monger opening his coat to reveal vials of colored liquids, “we’re out of luck. We won’t find Ebelwyn or those missing property records.” A space opened up, allowing Hank to fall in step next to me. “His office is up ahead.” I pointed. “I say we stop in and look for some property.”

“Ah,” he began in understanding. “Maybe a nice villa on the coast. Always wanted to be on a cliff by the sea.” I rolled my eyes and glanced over to find him grinning like an idiot. “A little siren joke for ya.”

I picked up speed and darted between two large stalls selling an assortment of Charbydon fruit and vegetables, and ended up on the other side of the street. I could feel Hank right behind me. A few more dodges and, avoiding a raging fire barrel, I stepped back onto the sidewalk, went a few steps, and then immediately dodged into the alley next to Darkling Properties and Rentals. The sign said it was closed. The main room was dark, but a glance at the apartment over the shop showed a small light coming from the window. I knew that Ebelwyn lived over his shop, just like my sister and many other shop owners.

“Back escape,” Hank said, heading farther down the narrow alley.

The brick walls closed in on us as we went. The smell back here was terrible, reeking of strong ammonia—urine of a gargoyle, a few stray cats, and probably a few off-world races taking leaks on the wall if I had to guess. In short, it was lovely, but it was this loveliness that kept the alleys vacant of most folks.

A one-lane street ran along the back of the shops and apartments, used for deliveries, dumpsters, and God knew what else. But by the looks of things, I’d say it was mostly landfill, dumping ground, extra storage … I glanced up at the fire escape. “This shouldn’t be too difficult,” I decided as Hank reached up and grabbed the stepladder to pull it down.

I glanced down the back alley, but all I got was steam from restaurants, a lot of shadows, and noise carried in from the street. Hank and I hurried up the ladder and onto Ebelwyn’s landing. The window wasn’t locked and it didn’t take long for us to duck into his apartment, get our bearings, and search the rooms.

The light I’d seen from the street came from a small office where a heat lamp had been placed over the aquarium of a moon snake, its bioluminescent skin emitting a soft, glowing white light. It was a small one, curled up against a rock. I leaned down and tapped the glass. The thing lifted its head and lunged at the glass so fast, I leapt back. “Jesus!”

“Cute, aren’t they?” Hank came around the desk and opened one of the side drawers.

An involuntary shiver ran through me. The glowing white snake was at the glass, half its body raised, weaving back and forth, its cobra-like hood edged in a crown of sharp bony points extended in a sign of aggression. “Yeah.” I moved to the other side of the desk to pull open a drawer. “Real cute.”

“Not venomous, though. These look like work files. Names. Addresses.”

I scanned the file tabs in the drawer on my side. “Taxes, bills, manuals …”

“Hold up.” Hank pulled a file from the drawer. “Tennin.”

I came around the desk to the sound of the moon snake thumping its nose on the glass.

Weave, weave, thump. Weave, weave, thump.

Goose bumps sprouted along my arms, but it wasn’t the snake’s neurotic thumping; I had a bad feeling as Hank laid the file on the desk and opened it. “It’s Tennin’s holdings. All of his properties. Christ, Charlie. He owns the warehouse.”