Page 21 of Concluded (The Bureau #13)

A genie.

Chief Grimes said some things after that, but Dee couldn’t hear through the roaring in his ears.

Grimes and Tenrael swept past him, but Dee remained rooted in place, his brain short-circuiting.

A moment or two later, Achilles gingerly walked over—Dee noticed, even through his fugue—and led him to an armchair, which Dee collapsed into.

For what might have been a long time, nobody said anything.

Finally Dee managed a few words. “Like, in a bottle? And blue-skinned? Or with the pink crop top and gauzy, um, harem pants?” He realized that he wasn’t making much sense, but then his life, his very existence, didn’t make much sense anymore.

Not that he’d ever followed a traditional path to begin with, but somehow over the past year he’d veered from odd into pure fantasy. Or horror—he wasn’t certain which.

“It’s that guy’s fault!” he shouted suddenly, startling Achilles, who’d looked ready to doze off. He probably met genies all the time.

“What guy?” Achilles asked groggily.

“The… guy with the New York accent. And Yiddish.”

Achilles nodded. “Ah. Abe Ferencz. How is anything his fault?”

“I was doing fine until he showed up at my door.” That was an exaggeration, because Dee had not been doing fine. He’d been flat broke, in danger of getting evicted, and out of weed. But still.

“That’s how it goes. Life flings shit at you like a pissed-off chimpanzee. But Ferencz didn’t make you what you are—you know that, right? The world’s a mess right now, and sooner or later someone was gonna come knocking.”

Dee was aware of all that, but he really wanted to place the blame somewhere, and it didn’t seem fair to dump it on Achilles, given his recent experiences. Dee slumped back and massaged his temples. “Fine. I mean, totally not fine, but…. Tell me about genies.”

“I only know about the Disney one.”

“What?” Dee stared at him in disbelief. “But you’re a Bureau agent.”

“Sure, but I didn’t know you guys really existed. They never mentioned genies during training, and I’ve never met one before. That I know of, anyway.” Achilles didn’t seem particularly concerned. “Do you have family you could talk to?”

Dee couldn’t help but scoff. “I haven’t seen Mom since I was a little kid, and…. She could grant wishes too. Dad OD’d when I was thirteen. As far as I know, he didn’t have any special powers. Do you think maybe he was human? Can genies and humans…”—he waved his hands vaguely—“interbreed?”

“No idea. But humans can and do have children with other NHSs. Shifters, for instance. The chief’s an example of that—one of his parents was an angel.”

An angel. Dee’s capacity for shock was depleted by now, and anyway it wasn’t important at the moment what Grimes was. But Dee still couldn’t help but comment. “He doesn’t seem all that angelic.”

Achilles laughed. “No. But then he’s the only angel I’ve ever met, so maybe they’re all like that. More into scowling than harping.” He shrugged. “Lots of lore is BS. You certainly don’t live in a bottle, and you granted Dunn a lot more than three wishes.”

Good points. But then, Dee had no way of knowing right now what was real.

It did occur to him, however, that the genies in stories were often bound to human masters.

Dee had never had a master, unless you counted Ashley, and he’d been able to escape her clutches once he made an effort.

Yet while he was with her, he’d experienced an odd comfort in being…

used. More than comfort: pleasure. Like a border collie that had finally been given access to a herd of sheep.

“I can’t think about this right now.” He stood and looked toward the kitchenette. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

To Dee’s considerable relief, Achilles didn’t press him for more information.

In fact, Achilles might have even dozed off while Dee dug around in cupboards to see what was available.

It turned out that there were no animal products, but he found pasta and tomato sauce and cooked up a couple plates of spaghetti.

Achilles didn’t seem inclined to walk to the table, so they ate while sitting in armchairs instead.

“Thanks,” said Achilles when he was done, setting the empty plate on the floor beside his chair. “That hit the spot.”

Dee knew they should be discussing his newly discovered identity or the impending apocalypse. Or both. But he didn’t want to talk about either right now, so he sidetracked instead. “How come you haven’t called anyone except Chief Grimes?”

“What do you mean?” Achilles asked through a yawn.

“I don’t know if the, um, aliens have phones. Oh gods, that’s a movie, isn’t it? But anyway, the coyotes did. And your boss must have one too. But you haven’t used them except to call him.”

“Who do you think I should be calling?”

“Family? Friends? You were missing for several days, and they must be worried.”

Sadness flashed across Achilles’ handsome features and then was gone. “The only people who might be worried about me work for the Bureau, and I’m sure word’s gotten around that I’m not dead yet.”

Dee decided to ignore that ominous final word and focus on the rest. “Are agents required to cut themselves off from the outside world?”

“We’re federal agents, Dee, not monks. We were federal agents, anyway.

” A sigh. “Look, it’s hard for us to have close outside connections.

Not forbidden, just hard. We can’t really talk much about our job to most outsiders, we travel a lot, and we’re often in the kind of dangerous situations that would make loved ones freak out.

Also, connections like that, well, I guess they can be a source of strength, but they’re also a vulnerability.

Most of the people that get recruited are like me—unconnected. ”

Dee was unconnected too, and he had always thought of that as an anomaly. Now he felt an unexpected kinship with Achilles. “Did you ever have family? A girlfriend or wife?”

“My parents were immigrants. The rest of the family stayed in Greece, so it was just us. They died a couple of decades ago, and my sister and I, we never got along. And if you must know, I did have a fairly serious boyfriend. Orson. But that was a long time ago. We broke up, and he died a few weeks later.” Achilles said all of this without showing any emotion, but his delivery was almost too flat, as if he were tamping down hard on whatever he felt—or didn’t want to feel.

But Dee couldn’t resist another attempt. “And no boyfriends since then? A handsome guy like you?”

Now Achilles gave him an odd look before answering. “I told you—that’s really hard in the Bureau. Most agents end up with other agents, or at least someone who’s… a part of our world, you know? Like, one man who headed our lab for years, his partner is a Sasquatch. They’re retired now.”

Dee wondered if being a genie—or at least half genie—qualified him as a part of Achilles’ world. But he didn’t ask. Instead he gathered the dishes and took them to the sink. After he finished washing up, he found Achilles asleep on one of the beds.

Dee sat down in the armchair and clicked on the TV.

* * *

A few hours later, a demon entered the room.

Tenrael, of course, with his magnificent dark wings and scary-ass red eyes.

He was still naked, which nobody else had commented on or even seemed to notice.

Maybe demons never wore clothing. A shirt would be nearly impossible with those wings, but pants would work. Anyway, he was intimidating as hell.

Dee suppressed a slightly hysterical laugh at his own unintended pun.

“I apologize for neglecting you,” Tenrael said to Dee, but quietly, since Achilles was apparently still asleep. “The news you brought us has raised pressing issues.”

Fair enough. “That’s okay. This place is comfortable.” The chair he was sitting in, for instance, was amazing.

Tenrael set a blue plastic box onto a table. “First aid,” he explained, then gestured toward Achilles. “If he requires more intensive medical care, we can send for a doctor.”

Dee glanced at the sleeping form and then shook his head. “I think he’ll be okay. I mean, I’m not a paramedic or nurse or anything, but….” He let that thought trail into obscurity. It was a little hard to converse with Tenrael.

But as a new thought struck him, he straightened in his chair. “Hey, uh, do you happen to know anything about genies? Because I don’t.”

That was compassion in those demon eyes; Dee was sure of it.

And because of that, he didn’t flinch away when Tenrael approached and crouched down in front of him.

Close up, Tenrael wasn’t any less frightening or less impressive, but he was somehow more real.

A person who had, according to his own account, endured some awful things… and survived. Had even fallen in love.

“I have met genies a mere handful of times over the millennia. They have always been few and reclusive, and my business did not intersect with theirs.”

Those two sentences raised a whole host of questions, but Dee tried to concentrate on the most immediate matter. “Are they evil?”

“No more or less than humans. Like humans, genies may be led by others into acts that are immensely harmful. But also like humans, they may choose a more admirable path.”

“My… my powers…. How strong are they, really? What are the limits? What difference does it make that I’m only half genie?”

“That I cannot tell you. And I’m afraid my master has directed our researcher to concentrate her efforts on other issues at the moment.”

Dee nodded in understanding. His identity crisis didn’t outweigh doomsday.

But it was time for a confession. “I’d like to help you guys.

I really would. But I’m not a hero like Achilles.

I’m afraid I’ll be tempted to do bad things again.

” No, worse than that. “I’m afraid I’ll give in to that temptation. ”

Before responding, Tenrael seemed to think for a moment.

“Everyone I have known at the Bureau has possessed darker urges, myself and my master most definitely included. Quite a few of them have followed those urges at times, sometimes with disastrous results. But this is nothing more than what human philosophers call free will. It is the daily battle each of us must face, and we must win that battle before we can begin to fight larger ones. I believe that free will is one of the things that makes the world beautiful. It means every single person has the power to help tip the balance toward good.”

Tenrael, apparently satisfied with his speech—which Dee was going to need to mull over for a long time—stood and patted Dee’s shoulder. Then he turned and left the room, folding his wings tightly as he passed through the doorway.

“I’m not a hero,” said a sleepy voice.

Dee saw that Achilles was still lying down, but now he was looking at Dee.

“Sorry,” said Dee. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Yeah, ’cause I’ve gotten only, what, fifteen or sixteen hours of sleep in the last twenty-four?” Achilles sat up, started to stretch, and winced. “Would you mind bringing me the first aid kit?”

Dee brought it over, along with a glass of water, which Achilles downed in one long gulp. “Thanks.”

“You are a hero, though. You save people. Save, uh, NHSs. You’re trying to save the world.”

Achilles scoffed and ran fingers through already wild hair. “I do my job. I’m okay at it—other agents are way better. I’ve fucked up royally a few times.”

“You didn’t give in to Ashley under torture.”

“I might’ve, eventually.” But Achilles looked pleased at the acknowledgement. Then he ran a palm over his bristly chin. “Gods, I probably look like a Sasquatch’s runty cousin. Do you think you could find me a razor?”

Dee went off to root through cupboards, thoughts of heroes tumbling in his head.