Durance by Lyn Gala Page 0,3

turned the volume down. He didn’t need to hear about the statistics on rising Talent-based crime and hate crimes against those with Talent. “If you plan on going years without a break because the war could start tomorrow... well, you can’t. It’s not healthy.”

“I know what I can handle.” Clearly expecting that gruff comment to end the debate, Kavon retreated to the kitchen. However, he had underestimated Darren’s powers of annoyance.

“You are exactly like your guide, a big stubborn bull who won't back down even when you should.”

Kavon crossed his arms. “Do you think we have decades?”

Darren had to admit that Kavon had a point. Darren had seen the numbers. In the past, a few young people would end up with guides like Kavon’s bull—big, dangerous, and full of old magic. However, most new shamans partnered with small, innocuous guides: birds, fish, or squirrels. But in the last six months, the DC Council had registered several large predators including two whales and a shark, and other powerful guides like a bison latifrons and a Steller's sea cow. For a guide to prefer the form of an animal that had gone extinct hundreds of years ago, it had to be old. Something was shifting, and all the guides knew it. Unfortunately, the guides lacked the ability to explain what.

“That’s even more reason for us to get away while we can. We can't work ourselves to the bone, and then expect to be on the top of our game if something happens.”

Kavon slapped his hand against the counter. “And we can't afford to be off on vacation when it starts. You and I both know it’s coming.”

DC, Mexico City, West Texas, and the Vatican were all showing vast increases in the number of magical “hot spots,” so Kavon was probably right. Darren knew for a fact there were ancient ifrit in Washington DC and El Paso, so that suggested that ifrit guides might have also returned to Mexico and the Vatican. Considering Mexico was aligned with the Catholic Church, it would be normal for them to hide information from the Egyptian authorities. Some days, Darren regretted that the Talent community was so stereotypically human with political divisions and prejudices.

“There are these wondrous devices called aeroplanes,” Darren said. Sarcasm was never the best approach with Kavon, but he was tired and cranky and he just wanted to win one God damn fight. “If something happens while we’re away, we can come back. In fact, Salma would happily authorize the use of the private jet.”

“Salma will approve anything you ask for.” Kavon’s tone made it clear he didn’t approve.

“We can go visit your family. You know you miss them.” This was Darren’s biggest carrot. While Kavon kept a distance between himself and his family, when he talked to them, he radiated a soul-deep joy and longing.

Kavon looked away. “I do,” he admitted in a much softer voice. “However, I don't want to be visiting my family when some evil ifrit decides to turn us into a smoking crater. Bennu might have astounding powers, but so will every other ifrit that comes back to this world.”

Kavon was annoyingly logical sometimes. “Okay, so we can visit someplace that you don't like. How about that town in Alabama where the local police captain called you the n-word? We can visit there and hope evil ifrit blow up the whole town. That would be a plus, yes?”

Kavon glared, but emotions leaked into the bond again, and amusement dominated the landscape.

“Look, I don't even care where we go. DC has beautiful resorts, so we can do a staycation. We can take a week to get away from the apartment and turn the phones off. And at the end of the week, we will be more prepared to handle any problems. As a bonus, Coretta will have time to gel with her new team without you glaring at them.”

“Her team is untested. I don’t want them to leave her or Les or Ahtisham hanging if there’s an emergency.” That felt like a more honest answer, and Darren shared a tiny bit of that trepidation. After Traci Frane’s betrayal, Darren had struggled to trust anyone, and the lingering effects of that still made him search Milton’s nervous gestures for evidence he was faking, or watch Anne type and wonder what she would say about the rest of them in her reports. But he tried to shut down that part of his brain. Joe had done extensive undercover work and Jen had