Jory Strong - Healer's Choice

“In every way you have made me proud, daughter. Our kind has always tested their children. Even those born in our prison kingdom set deep in the ghostlands must prove their worthiness. No one will ever question the rightness of entering your name in the Book of the Djinn.”

He stepped closer, curled his fingers around Rebekka’s upper arm, pulling her toward him. The Jaguar soul rose in challenge and growled in warning while the human one snarled and took possession of her other arm.

Rebekka’s father ignored the display. “The enforcer spoke the truth. No Were, living or dead, would judge your soul tainted for defending yourself.

“So it is for the Djinn too. At the moment, your spirit is locked in a human shape, but you are not limited by the rules applied to the gifted. Because you’re of my House, I can make you mārdazmā , Djinn, able to shift between living, sentient forms. You are only so limited because an ancient enemy’s blood runs diluted in your mother’s line, commingling with mine, though it’s his blood that allows you to stand in the entranceway between ghostlands and shadowlands.”

Rebekka glanced at Aryck, tugged on the arm in his grip until he loosened his hold on it enough so she could slide her hand into his before meeting her father’s eyes again. She knew the face of one of his enemies and was sickened by the possibility of being related to an entity who could so casually use plague for nothing more than entertainment purposes, but she forced herself to ask, “The urchin with the rat on his shoulder. Who is he? What is he?”

There was a glorious flash of light as if in answer, and standing next to her father was Tir—not as he’d been before, but in his true form, an angel with black wings spread, the light shimmering off them in the same way as it had the feather on the amulet she’d worn.

“My brother,” Tir said, and Rebekka knew his name, had noticed the likeness when he appeared at the Fellowship of the Sign and offered to cleanse her gift of any taint.

“Caphriel.”

Tir inclined his head. “I was once like him. But now I join others of my kind in an alliance that will see the return of the Djinn and a change in who rules this world. Araña and I will come back to Oakland in the future. Aisling and Zurael remain there. Seek any of us out if you need us.”

He disappeared in another flash, and her father leaned forward. “To those willing to make the greatest sacrifice should go the greatest rewards. My spirit to yours, daughter.”

He touched his mouth to hers as he had in Lion territory. And it was like being on the receiving end of her own gift.

Power poured down her throat, raw and primordial. Like molten stone coming from the Earth itself. She healed as though she’d never been injured. The place where her skin was inked in a prostitute’s tattoo burned as if it was on fire. And at the very last came knowledge of his name. Torquel en Sahon .

When he stepped away from her she looked down. Where the ugly black circle and red P had once been, there was now an image of a cardinal, its wings outstretched.

Her eyes lifted to her father’s face. He said, “Among the Weres there is no true, unbreakable mate-bond until a child is conceived. Among our kind it takes only the sharing of breath, done with absolute conviction and intent.

“The Were ancestors have already chosen the Djinn as allies. We cement it with the uniting of our children. You are but one of them. The responsibility that comes with your gift does not preclude having children or spending time in Were lands.”

He tilted his head in Aryck’s direction. “Is he your choice then, Rebekka en Sahon, daughter of the House of the Cardinal?”

“Yes. He’s my choice.”

“So be it then. I will enter his name next to yours in the Book of the Djinn.”

Her father disappeared as suddenly as he’d arrived.

Rebekka turned toward Aryck, going willingly into his arms. “It’s not over,” she said.

“No, it’s just beginning. There are brothel workers to liberate and heal. There is justice to be served on the man who wasn’t there when you killed his companion.”

Rebekka started to tell him about the club, only to realize there would be time for it later. This moment belonged to them.

“My spirit to yours,” she whispered, touching her lips to his, sharing breath.

She felt the bond slide into place and, when the kiss ended, saw evidence of it in a small cardinal on his skin, its wings outstretched above his heart. And in the look in his eyes as his voice sounded in her mind. Become Jaguar. Mate with me. Love me.

Yes , she said, changing as if she’d always had another form.