5. The Collector

{Janus}

Janus Bergman was perhaps the palest man sunbathing on the isolated beach of Thailand's southern coast. But thanks to the tutelage of his personal trainer and stylist, he had established a reliable base that could withstand almost any sun-dominated climate.

Except for Australia. I won't be back there anytime soon.

The outback expedition was overrated and the kangaroos did not impress him as wildlife nor as a delicacy. He returned from that trip with a terrible sunburn, including burning unmentionables. Thank God for djinn or else there would have been no way he could show his face to his board members the next day.

Djinn and demons alike, it seemed, were the source of Janus's success as well as his prolonged life.

I suppose I should thank them for landing me a spot on this dreadfully boring beach.

From behind his shades, Janus watched while demons floated along and passed through the stacked membranes of reality. Most hung out between the Sixth and the Tenth, but every now and then a young, naive demon would wander into the impossibly thin Fourth. Searching for a way beyond the claustrophobic plane, the demons always crashed against the Third, which sorcerers like Janus commonly referred to as the Known.

Most entities were too weak or unlearned to break into the Known. After severely injuring themselves against the barrier, they would scuttle backwards through the higher planes.

Janus had a little something in store for the demons that did manage to get through. Located next to his beach recliner was a lure – a device that attracted and trapped rogue demons. That day Janus had decided to disguise it as a beer growler. When the lure reached capacity, he didn't plan to release its contents to the appropriate planes or bind the demonic souls to mundane objects. Instead, they would return home with him to Chicago as souvenirs to someone very dear to him.

I'm supposed to be on vacation and instead I'm thinking about the very thing that I needed a break from.

Still, he hoped that this catch of demons would be enough to satisfy the one they were meant for.

"American?"

Janus lifted his eyes to the bikini-clad tourist who was blocking his sun. He didn't like to interact with people when he was traveling, but his boredom was inescapable and this woman was easy to look at.

Janus sat up straight on his recliner to make room for his guest.

"German." He supposed a compliment should follow, so he offered one about her bikini and how appropriately it suited her.

The woman took a seat and folded her sun-bleached hair behind her ears.

"Your English is very good," she complimented.

Janus smirked. "So is yours."

Janus spent the next few minutes chatting with the tourist about travel and their reasons for choosing to visit Ao Nang. He let her lead the conversation and didn't tell her that this was his fourth time flying to Thailand to visit this particular beach.

"Are you drinking?" The woman eventually asked, gesturing to Janus's growler.

He shrugged apologetically. "It's empty."

From inside the bottle the demons wailed in desperation, but their cries fell upon deaf ears. The tourist was, however, perfectly capable of hearing the ringtone that suddenly blared from Janus's cell.

He excused himself as soon as he saw the caller ID.

"I need to take this."

"Of course."

Janus made sure he was out of earshot before he started talking.

"Duffy," he greeted, trying to hide his relief at the call.

"How is Thailand?" His associate asked.

Janus gazed out at the Andaman Sea and watched it bleed from turquoise to cobalt, merging with the Indian Ocean. Although his sight paused at the horizon, it penetrated through all the possible planes of existence and the deathless beings that transcended them. Janus glanced back at the cute tourist occupying his chair.

"Treacherous," he answered.

On the other line, Duffy stifled a giggle. "I told you not to go there. You should have visited Brazil."

"It wouldn't have made a difference . . . . How is he?" Janus mentally scolded himself for inquiring.

Duffy's tone turned dark. "He's very . . . hungry. But that's not why I called you."

"Then this better be good," Janus grunted.

"Please, as if you have something better to do. Listen, the instruments have been acting weird lately. I think we have someone trying to cross over."

Janus's breath caught in his throat. It took him a moment to get the next question out.

"Born or made?"

"Made," Duffy said. "It's a young one this time. It seems like it's been trying to keep its movements discreet, but the instruments don't lie, Janus."

"I know that," Janus said in an undertone. He wished his heart rate would slow down and allow him to think straight. A few beats later, he fired another question. "Do you know where it is?"

The sound of Duffy's fingers flying across a keyboard reached Janus on the other line. After what seemed like an eternity, he answered, "Atlanta, Georgia."

A short plane ride from my offices in Chicago. What luck.

Janus could barely contain his excitement. He said, "Tell Sabur I'll be home soon." Then he ended the phone call. After hanging up, he walked back to his recliner and wrapped up his conversation with the tourist. Then he closed the cap on the growler so it could no longer fish for demons. He returned to the hotel and checked out, ending his stay in Ao Nang.

Two and half hours later, Janus Bergman was riding coach on a flight back to Chicago, Illinois. His chauffeur picked him up when he landed and escorted him to his apartment suite downtown. Duffy met him when he got off the elevator and handled his bags.

"Can't you clean up for once in your life?" Janus greeted as soon as he laid eyes upon his associate.

What a slob.

"Take me off your payroll and I'll take a trip to the barber," Duffy groaned as he hurled his employer's bags onto his shoulder.

"No need. I'll pay for that myself. And perhaps we should get you some gastric bypass surgery."

"Stop being a dick. I'd rather look like this than whatever you've got going on. You've been under the knife more times than the Kardashians."

Janus smirked. He missed Duffy's banter. He countered, "There's nothing wrong with a little nip tuck."

"How about this," Duffy said. "Why don't I focus on nipping things in the bud with this new Atlanta anomaly while you go and tuck that Sabur of yours in bed?"

For once, Janus obeyed his associate. He brought the demon lure with him to the room that held Sabur. Even though a wall separated him from the creature inside, he could already feel rejuvenated again. Alive once more.

Janus undid the series of locks on the door before pushing it inward. It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The ifrit chained to the wall lifted his head at the arrival of his master. Slanted, opaque eyes locked onto Janus's gray ones. His normally black skin singed with white fire – a sign of his excitement. The heat danced along the rivulets in the ifrit's skin before fading away.

"Welcome home, Master," the ifrit breathed. Ghostly wisps of smoke shot out between his lips, punctuating each word.

Janus fearlessly approached his ifrit, all the while marveling at the way his horns curved out from his temples and spiraled around his pointed ears like those of an alpha ram. Hair as white as his eyes fell straight and long down his heavily muscled torso. The hair nearly reached a pair of cloven feet.

Handing the ifrit the lure, Janus said, "Did you miss me, Sabur?"

Sabur nodded, dipping his claw in the opening and drawing out his first meal in days.

"Did Duffy tell you? I wept for you."

Janus's dark pet slipped the demon into his mouth and devoured it in one swallow. Janus reached out and moved Sabur's soft bangs out of his eyes.

"Weep no more, my friend. Our magus has found a changeling who seeks a path into the Known. You get to help me find it and add it to my collection."

Once again, white fire flared up across Sabur's chest and shoulders at the notion of taking down a rogue djinni. Sabur downed the rest of the lure's contents and belched. Then he handed the empty container back to Janus before going into a long, exaggerated stretch. His crooked wings unfurled and extended along with everything else.

When the ifrit relaxed, he drew his furry hooves against his stomach and folded his wings around his powerful, terrible form.

Snuggling his head under the membranous wing flap, he said, "Wake me when it's time to leave."

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Note: Janus's name is pronunced: YAH-NUS.