Free The Hour of Dust and Ashes by Kelly Gay

again—and hungry.
    If only I could feel normal. Stop feeling so drugged out all the time and like I had to eat like a sumo wrestler, stop hearing random voices whenever I finally relaxed and stop seeing visions … My insides were being pulled in random directions all the time. I wanted to be normal again. Human again. At this point, I’d even settle for my evolution—as Aaron called it—coming to a close and leaving me in whatever state I ended up in.
    The door to our office clicked open. I didn’t raise my head. The air of calmness trickling through the room and the scent of mint and lavender told me all I needed to know.
    I didn’t know what it was about the jinn hybrid that brought about this sense of tranquility. When I first saw Sian in Grigori Tennin’s strip club, she’d had the same effect on me and everyone in the place. I wondered if all jinn hybrids possessed that ability or if it was just something unique to her.
    “Oh, good, you’re back,” she said, entering our nook and bringing with her the scent of food. My stomach twisted. A stack of files dropped beside me. “Here’s everything on the
ash
support group, all the members, personal info, vital records, et cetera. Oh, and Hank called. He’ll be in the office later.”
    I finally lifted my head and looked at her tall, cloaked form. “Hank called?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    I waited for more, some message for me, but she continued on, going to her desk by the window, droppingher canvas bag and an armful of files before removing her cloak and draping it over the hook on the wall.
    I grabbed my cell and checked it. No missed messages from my partner. What the hell was going on with him?
    “You okay?” Sian straightened her black pencil skirt as she came back to my desk carrying a large brown bag.
    The scent of dough, freshly baked and wonderful, wrapped around me like a warm blanket. Sian’s white eyebrow rose, and she lifted the bag. “I think I should get a raise for supporting your eating habits.”
    Hunger pains radiated through my gut. I motioned with my fingers. “Hand it over.” My hand shook as I sat back and dove into the bag, pulling out an everything bagel. The first bite was pure, one hundred percent, Grade-A pleasure. “Bless you,” I muttered, cheeks full.
    She parked her hip on the edge of Hank’s desk, which was pushed up against mine. She wore a thin cashmere turtleneck in dark gray, much darker than her light gray skin. Her snow-white hair was pulled back into a braided bun and her indigo and violet eyes held a note of apprehension.
    Sian was gorgeous—high cheekbones, full lips, almond-shaped eyes … Yet she didn’t go outside of her home or the office without covering herself with her cloak.
    Bias and racism was alive and well even in the off-worldcommunity. And while the jinn prized the extremely rare product of jinn and human offspring, the rest of the Charbydons and Elysians did not, nor did some humans.
    I wanted Sian to hold her head high, to ignore the criticism and step out into society as the beautiful, alluring, and harmless being that she was, but after a life spent growing up in the confines of the jinn underground, she had miles yet to go. There was one good thing about being forced Topside and taking this job—she was slowly gaining confidence.
    After I’d wolfed down the first bagel, I went in for another. “Thank you,” I told her. “So you gonna keep staring at me or tell me what’s on your mind?”
    Sian’s father had used a blood debt against me to secure his daughter a job within the ITF so she could feed him information. He gained a lot of useless fluff instead. Sian didn’t have the cunning chops of dear old dad. He knew this, refused to accept it, and had placed her here anyway. Grigori Tennin used everyone and everything, even his own daughter.
    “I have no loyalty to my father now. And I don’t want Daya’s death to be for nothing. I want the Sons of Dawn stopped. I don’t want war. For