Abu’s grin faded as quickly as it came. “Well, uh, you see-"

With a heavy sigh, the Seraph leaned back in the chair and ran a hand down one of his spiraling horns. “My clan messed up,” he admitted candidly. “I sent her to stay at one of our camps, not the one you visited, but one further south. I thought she'd be safe there, far, far away from where we knew the cult to be primarily operating. And she was, for a few weeks. She seemed to be settling in well though, making friends with a few in my clan until one morning she was just gone, with nothing but a note about someone named Jacinda Welles. My man said you told him that was your mother?”

Jasper nodded, and Abnu continued. “I questioned everyone, Jasper, I swear did, but no one saw her interacting with anyone strange before her disappearance. I don’t have a clue what happened.” The man frowned and picked his words carefully. “Now, I admit I don’t pay much attention to the royal court, but I was under the impression your mother was dead?”

“Well…rumors of her death may have been a bit exaggerated. As far as I’m aware, she’s still alive and kicking. Now how she would be aware of Laylah or why she would have any interest in her is another issue altogether. Honestly, it’s baffling.”

Abnu straightened up. “You mean your mother really might have taken her? I kind of just assumed the not was a lie and,” the man shrugged awkwardly, “well, that Laylah was dead.”

“Nah.” Jasper shook his head emphatically. “Even if the cult has some contact with my world, I don’t see any way they would have known her name over there. It makes no sense to me, but I think she must have gotten in contact with Laylah, somehow or other.”

Relief flooded the Seraph’s face. “I hope you’re right - I felt bad about getting your woman killed.”

My woman? Jasper decided to ignore the last part of Abnu's speech, but he wasn't willing to let the matter drop. “It may have worked out alright,” he added rather sharply, “but we both know that’s total luck on your part. We had a deal - your men were to keep her safe in return for my silence about the Keeper's death. The way I see it, that deal is no longer in operation. I'll still help you with the mission, but after it's done, I think we need to have a little discussion about my new compensation.”

“Shamsha’s light,” Abnu cursed and his hands dug into the armrests on the chair so tightly that Jasper feared they would break.

“Is that a problem?” he asked in surprise.

“No,” the Djinn reluctantly growled out. The tension eased out of the man’s shoulder as he let go of the armrests, and he flashed Jasper a rueful grin. “You just lost me a bet, that’s all. Elder Ḫurbastu seemed certain you'd bring it up the matter of compensation, but I guess I didn't really think you cared that much about the girl; thought she was just a fling.”

Jasper laughed. “I mean, you're not wrong - she pretty much was just a fling. But I’ve never had my mother kidnap one of my dates before. Believe me, once that happens, it’s kind of hard to forget about.” And maybe, he was willing to admit to himself, if not to Abnu, I would have liked her to be more than a fling.

The Seraph barked with laughter. “I guess your mother was easier-going than mine. Any time I so much as looked at a girl, the poor thing was practically dragged back to our tent for a family dinner.”

“The Italian family experience,” Jasper agreed with a grin. “But I’m guessing you’re not here to swap tales. Are your men ready to clear out the brotherhood?”

Abnu sobered up immediately and leaned forward, his eyes blazing with new intensity. “Aye. We’re ready when you are.”

Jasper wasn’t remotely ready. Frankly, knowing the plan had a good chance of ending in his death, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready. But he also knew he couldn't keep putting off Kas̆dael's mission. Plastering a grin on his face he didn’t feel, he rose to his feet. “Well then, what are waiting for? Let’s go kill a would-be goddess.”

A savage grin spread across Abu’s face. “Aye,” he growled in agreement and shot to his feet with enough force to knock the chair he’d been sitting on to the ground. Emotion gripped his face, a pain and fury so strong that his features began to slowly morph closer to that of a tiger. “It’s time to make those bastards pay for what they’ve done and teach them a valuable lesson: a Seraph is nobody's prey.”

It didn’t take long for Jasper to gather his party. Though he still questioned why the Seraphs didn’t want the help of the Royal Guard, not needing to wait for them to assemble made things move faster. With Abnu’s help, the five of them - Jasper, Ihra, Tsia, Nēs̆u, and Annatta - were ready to depart.

The day was already quickly drawing to a close as they rode across the great twin bridges that led the way into S̆addānu. Though the sun was not quite hidden beneath the mountains, Selene had already risen high in the heavens. It was a full moon that night, and as Jasper stared at her bright, peaceful face, he hoped it was a sign of good fortune. “Selene watch over us,” he murmured softly.

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If the Seraph guards surrounding the little village of Nib’u had been more skilled in magic, they might have detected the tall, stately woman who snuck out of the cultists’ compound that night. In the dim light of the night, her usually dull red skin looked almost chocolaty, and the two black horns that peaked up from her head were unusually straight. But as it was, the guards possessed no great skill in piercing through barriers, and even when she passed within fifty feet of them, they failed to see her.

Her stride grew faster as she left the village behind and hiked up a steep slope into the wild forests beyond. The thick underbrush stretched out probing fingers toward her clothes and skin, but they found no purchase as the Djinn phased through them unhindered. Her pace was relentless, her feet flying over the rough terrain as if it were a paved highway and she did not pause, even for a second, until she reached a small clearing high up on the mountain slope.

A few rotting stumps still stubbornly stuck their heads above the ground, testifying to the relatively recent construction of the circular space, but other than that the ring had been fully cleared. Whatever vegetation had once thrived beneath the trees was long gone too, replaced by giant scorch marks that crisscrossed the upturned dirt.

The woman paused in the forest just beyond the clearing and hastily removed her clothes. Her bare skin gleamed in the light of the moon, revealing a form that had inspired desire in many men, and jealousy in just as many women. But when she stepped across the threshold, a wave of light rippled down her spine.

Slowly, the wave of light expanded across her body, tearing away the illusion and revealing what lay beneath.

A tall woman still stalked through the forest clearing, but she was no Djinn. Her red skin was replaced by a warm, olive complexion and her wide, black eyes mellowed into a softer brown. Her horns melted away to reveal long, perky ears that jutted well above the crown of her head, lined with soft tufts of fur inside and out. Her already fierce face grew harsher, as twin fangs peaked out from between her lips, and her finely manicured nails morphed into razor-sharp claws that glinted dangerously in the moonlight. Wildness clung to her like a cloak, yet for all her fierceness, her beauty remained undeniable.

The woman slowly approached the center of the scorched ring and bent down in the dirt. Her clawed hands tore at the soft soil as she dug three deep channels into the earth in the shape of a triangle with its corners unconnected. Once she was satisfied with their depth, she left the ring. The form of a Djinn snapped back into the place as she headed out into the forest.

An hour passed before she returned, dragging behind her the muddy carcass of a boar. Its sides were ravaged with claw marks, and a trail of blood led into the forest beyond. Heaving the creature on its side with unnatural strength, she poured the remaining liquid into the channels and grunted with frustration when it failed to fill them up. She was forced to search the forest again and did not return until the moon’s descent was nearly complete. Draining the last of the blood into the three channels, the woman knelt between them.

Petû bābī Adummi. S̆uturam bābu lummunu, s̆erru nizirti, gallû mutu.

As the woman chanted, she fed her power into the air around her. It was a magic quite unlike that practiced by the Djinn, a spell fueled by the overwhelming demands of spirit rather than the thin requests of essence.

The air around her grew hot and parched, blurring like the desert sands on a summer scorcher, and slowly but surely the blood in the channels turned a sickly, pale color and began to boil. An unnatural fire flickered to life along its surface, a flame that burned both black and white.

Atû Adummi, s̆emû dabābīya. Liptû bābī Adummi u liptarū Kurību agās̆u s̆e’aku.

As she spoke, the burning blood breached its channels and quickly spread its way across the clearing’s surface, slithering and sliding its way back and forth like a horde of angry serpents with their tails bound together. It spread and spread until the fire filled all the clearing, but the flames did not cross the threshold.

The woman’s voice grew higher and higher, repeating the words more and more frantically as the world around her was flooded with her power. The flames danced in ecstasy as with a final, almost bestial scream, the ceremony reached its climax.

A grinding shudder shook the clearing and the ground between the channels cracked open. Her screams fell silent, and the woman watched expectantly until a small hand reached out of the ground and grasped the ledge. The hand was soon followed by a familiar, cracked porcelain face that glowed faintly in the dying starlight, and as the gallû ascended from the netherworld, the woman saw the creature clutched a very battered doll tightly between her arms.

“I thought I told you to get rid of that,” the woman’s harsh voice filled the small clearing.

The creature cocked its head to the side but made no move to drop her prized possession. “Mine,” it responded defiantly.

“Ugh, fine.” Deciding it wasn’t worth wasting the limited summoning time on such a pointless argument, the woman moved on. “Tell me, have you kept a close guard on your quarry?”

The gallû didn’t speak, but a series of jumbled sentences and images were promptly projected into her mind. The woman sifted through the memories meticulously before finally nodding her head in satisfaction. “Good,” she spoke more to herself than the gallû, “so he decided to wear the necklace. Perhaps my sacrifices for him won’t be in vain after all.”

Fixing her eyes back on the girl, Barbartu’s voice softened. “You did well, child.” A high-pitched giggle escaped the little girl, but she didn’t bother to reply. The woman drummed her fingers against the ground for a moment as indecision rippled in her eyes. “Do I dare risk it?” She murmured softly to herself. “The visions of the Anzuzu are not always accurate, but…”

With a brisk shake of her head, she dismissed her hesitations and turned her attention back to the gallû. “I’m afraid I have one more task to ask of you.”

The creature scowled and stamped its foot on the ground petulantly. “No. Tired of work.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologized, “but you understand this is important, don’t you?”

Silence fell across the clearing as she waited for the child to respond. It was a long wait, two stubborn wills colliding with each other, but eventually the gallû relented and offered her a small, barely perceptible nod.

Barbartu sighed in relief. “I'm glad you’d understand.” She leaned forward, and even though there was no one else for miles around in the forest, she lowered her voice. “The last task I have for you is a bit tougher than the rest, but I’m sure you are up to the task. I need you to…”