Grimoires 06-Burning Djinn of Fire by Renee George

Author:Renee George [George, Renee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Barkside of the Moon Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

I might’ve been hasty in agreeing to go with four armed men to some undisclosed location without any concrete information, but from where I stood, we didn’t have much choice. They had guns. We had our wit and charm. That and ten bucks might get us a cup of coffee, but it wouldn’t overtake four combat-ready soldiers.

They put us in a large van—not the kind you saw in serial killer or heist movies, where the back was basically a psychopath’s playground—thank heavens. This was a luxury van like you would see on a vacation tour. We had air conditioning, cushy seats, and large windows from which we could enjoy the view. All we needed were umbrella drinks and someone telling dad jokes to complete the vacation scenario.

Carver was allowed to put a shirt on before they stuck us in the middle seat. Ryker had given him one of hers, a Ramone’s concert jersey circa 1972. Unfortunately, his boots had been left in the cave, and our “escorts” refused to let him go back for them. Two of the men settled into the row behind us, then a hulking bald mercenary got into the driver's seat, and the blond who’d done all the talking took the passenger side. Probably so he could have an unobstructed path to shoot us in the face if we tried anything funny. He didn’t have to worry. We were not funny people—at least, I wasn’t.

“What’s your name?” I asked Blondie.

“Cooper,” he said, keeping a wary eye on us. The man had an accent. It was slight enough that I hadn’t noticed when he’d had a gun to Ryker’s head. He pronounced Cooper like koo-pair and ended by barely skimming the r.

“Cooper, huh?” I scootched forward in my seat and angled my knees at him. “That’s a strong name. Scottish, right?”

“Aye,” he said, his gaze holding mine. “What’s your name?”

“Mar—” Ryker nudged my knee, so I improvised. “Martina,” I covered. “Martina King.”

Martina made me think of Martina Navratilova, who made me think of Billie Jean King. The two rivals, who played fourteen championship matches against each other, were incredibly powerful athletes who equally advanced the notion of gender equality in sports. It seemed fitting to combine their names for my assumed moniker.

Cooper eyed me like he didn’t believe me for one second. “Which one of you is Ryker?”

I bit my upper lip to keep from making a peep. Why had I thought the hunter was looking for me? And why was he or she or they looking for Ryker? And what did Zev have to do with all of this?

Before she could answer, Carver said, “That’s me.”

I was glad my lip was still between my teeth. What had possessed Carver to volunteer as tribute? The real Ryker couldn’t either. “I’m Ryker,” she said.

And because I watch too much television, I chirped in, “No, I’m Ryker.”

“I thought you were Martina King.”

“Yeah. Ryker Martina King,” I said.

Cooper glared at the three of us for a moment, then began to laugh.

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