by Wendy Cole
I needed to know.
I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my keys, then stared down in puzzlement. How did my keys get here?
Brady.
To further prove the theory, I found a note taped to the inside of my door.
Sweetheart,
I took care of it.
You should probably rest.
School’s been cancelled.
Things happened at a party.
I’ll see you before you see me…literally.
Love,
The Landlord
P.S. Rent’s due
I gaped at the paper, eyes wide as I read then reread its contents. Things happened. Things that made them cancel school.
“Shit!” I jerked the door open and ran for my car. It couldn’t be true. He didn’t die. Maybe Brady just beat him up a bit. The image of Justin, covered in spiders, and twitching in agony against a wall flashed through my mind.
“Please don’t be dead,” I pleaded to no one. Jail, yes. Even the spider thing, totally okay. I mean, fuck that guy. But…dead? No. Not dead. Not because of my monster. If my monster could kill Justin, then…
Another piece of paper was attached to my driver’s side window.
If you’re reading this, you’re not resting,
Probably because you’re freaking out,
You always freak out,
that’s how I know,
Yes,
He’s dead,
It’s very, very sad,
For some,
Try not to need saving for a bit,
It will be hard, I know, but I believe in you.
My legs gave out, and I had to grip the hood of the car to keep from falling. He’d killed him. It killed someone. This is my fault. If I hadn’t gone to that party. If I hadn’t worn that dress, hadn’t drunk that soda, hadn’t been so fucking stupid. I knew the risks. I knew I was putting him in danger.
I killed him.
Bile rose up my throat, and I heaved onto the ground beside my feet. Things had gone too far. There was no going back from this. I needed to do something.
I looked back at the little house that was supposed to be my refuge as I built a future. The first thing I needed to do was get out of it. I needed to get rid of Brady.
My chest tightened involuntarily. I envisioned him, leaned over me in my most vulnerable moment, murmuring soothing words, offering a lifeline only he could provide.
If he hadn’t—
No! I yanked my car door open and jumped inside. He’d gotten to me, used some power, played with my head. I was his entertainment. Just because he saved me didn’t mean anything.
He’d said it before. You’re mine. It wasn’t kindness. It wasn’t out of love. It was territorial, possessive.
I hit the road with no intention of going back. My stuff could stay. I’d buy new stuff. Maybe that was the problem. None of the old should have come with me to the new. I should have left it all back home and started fresh.
***
A new hotel room, and a call to secure a dorm room on campus, then another to my mother. I was all set. Pests. Bedbugs. It was enough to convince her that I needed to move, that my stuff was unsalvageable. She promised to send money, a fact that only added to the intense guilt I felt. It weighed my shoulders down, it felt heavy, as if a child were constantly sitting on them. My mother wasn’t rich. She’d never admit to the struggle, but ever since my father left, I knew she did.
It wasn’t easy raising a child alone, especially a child with issues like mine.
I’d taken another shower, thrown on the only pajamas I had, which weren’t much more than underwear considering I’d abandoned my things. I sat in the middle of the queen-sized bed and opened my laptop.
How to get rid of a jinni?
An array of different links popped up, most of them involving exorcists. I snorted. Well, I already knew that didn’t work.
As I scrolled further, digging deeper into the content, I started to find other questions. What does a jinni look like? Do I have a jinni? Are jinn able to physically hurt you? I decided to click on one with a link, and it took me to a page full of testimonials.
I read through them, skimming the different stories, reading the conversations and responses. It’s a support group. I got an adrenaline rush. I’ve found a support group.
I tried to find one similar to mine, but most almost seemed humorous in comparison. My cabinet doors open and close by themselves. “Close your window lady,” I murmured. I hear strange noises at night. “Join the club. Do yours come with a six-foot-five walking pile of sex on legs?”
My girlfriends keep becoming obsessed. I pulled the computer into my lap and gripped the top as I read.
Every girlfriend I’ve ever had eventually starts to drink. Their eyes go hollow, the same eyes, every time. It doesn’t matter what color they are in the beginning, they, later on, turn green. The sweetest girls turn vile. They berate me in public, humiliate me then laugh. Each time I try to leave they always say the same thing.
“It will always be me.”
An email address was included at the bottom of his post, urging anyone who could help to please contact him.
With shaking fingers, I pulled up my email and began to type. I included my phone number and a short explanation of my own situation. When I finished, I gave it one read through. I sounded desperate, begging even.
I am desperate, I thought, clicking send.
I closed my laptop and grabbed my phone, as if the man would call me in that second, praying that he would.
A knock on the door, the silence in the room. I got up and slowly padded over to look out the peephole. Brady stood there, and he didn’t look happy.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brady’s face was set into grim lines, his eyes narrowed on the door, muscles tense.
Why did he knock? I wondered. He’d never bothered before. I thought about not answering but didn’t see the point. Something told me the knock didn’t necessarily mean anything. I pulled the door open and quickly averted my eyes as I stood aside so he could enter.
But he didn’t.
I kept my gaze on the floor, waiting, bathing in an awkward heat that seemed to radiate through the doorway. When I finally found the courage to look over, my breath caught in my throat.
Brady’s eyes never met mine. They were too busy roaming, undressing.
Electric neon blue.
I looked down and screeched. Underwear. A tank top. I hadn’t been thinking. Why hadn’t I been thinking!
I tried to close the door, but Brady was too quick. With one strong arm, he pushed through and grabbed me. Every nerve ending lit up, electric as if his eyes were just a glimpse of what laid within, and all of it had somehow filled me at the contact.
Using his foot to kick the door shut behind him, Brady wrapped one arm around my waist and brought his other hand up to entangle in my hair as he slowly backed us towards the bed.
“Wha―what are you do―doing?” I stuttered. Each breath was far too labored, making my words barely audible as I lost myself. Too intense. Indescribable. It felt unfair. How can a virgin with no experience possibly deal with this?
A small growl left his chest, rumbling against me in a way that only increased the pull inside me. He buried his face into the crook of my neck and inhaled deeply.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” Brady said, the stubble along his jaw rubbing against me with each word.
I made a sound, foreign, and Brady’s grip tightened.
We hit the bed, and my legs lifted. Why are my legs lifting? Brady positioned himself between them before I had a chance to put them back down.
“Brady?” I whispered, his name sounded more like a plea. My mind seemed to be at war with my body. Inside, I knew I should stop, tell him to stop, but my brain wouldn’t send the command. It didn’t want to.
“In a minute,” he said, then his mouth met mine.
Lightning, electricity, it hit me like an attack from Zeus h
imself. Maybe he was Zeus. Maybe he was a god. It was the only explanation I could find for why I so willingly complied. Our mouths battled for dominance, desperate, destined.
Right.
Then it ended.
Brady lifted himself away from me, breaking the contact but still looming above in a way that prevented any escape. I met his gaze, taking in his serious and alert expression and the return of his normal eyes.
“Amelia, what happened to your shoulders?”
My conscious mind fought to swim through the electric current still flooding my brain. My shoulders? What was wrong with my shoulders? The pressure I’d been feeling, from the stress. Could he somehow sense it?
“I think I pulled something.” My hand came up to grip the spot, but Brady quickly prevented me. I gave him an odd look. “I’ve been feeling pressure since earlier today.”
Now that the contact was broken, my mind began to come back to me. I looked up at him, all of him, so close. What the hell am I doing?
“Let me up,” I said, pushing myself backward in an attempt to crawl out from under him.
Brady moved out of the way without protest. He was staring at me intently. His eyes kept roaming to my shoulders. “Amelia, I need you to stand up straight, then don’t move.” He sounded like one of those people you see on tv when someone walks right up to a rattlesnake and has to be helped away from it.
The tone to his voice got my full attention. I did exactly as he asked, standing so the backs of my knees were up against the mattress.
Brady slowly moved around, until he was standing directly in front of me. He lifted his arms straight and put his hands flat out in my direction.
My nerves jumped to attention. Am I gonna die? I took in his intense look, his hard jaw, then his outstretched hands. “Wanna play patty cake?”
He didn’t laugh.
I’m gonna die.
I was about to make a run for it when a burst of blue light exploded from his outstretched palms. It hit me like a wave of energy, and the weight I’d been carrying fell away.
“Wow,” I started, exhilarated at the raw power still lingering on my skin. I lifted a hand to my shoulder once again. “What did you do?”
Brady didn’t answer, but something else did. Growling, snapping, angry noises came from behind me. I whipped around, so fast I heard my neck crick, then screamed.
On the bed, a small grotesque demon-like creature snarled in a defensive stance. Yellow sticky skin hung loosely from its frame, and two large solid black eyes locked with mine.
Brady reached forward and jerked me away, hard, the force of it sending me tumbling to the floor behind him. He didn’t turn to check, too focused on the piggybacking little monster in front of him. He began to chant strange sounds. A language I didn’t recognize. Inhuman.
The creature let out a roar, and I decided I’d had enough excitement. I crawled the short distance it took to reach the bathroom and immediately locked myself inside. I wasn’t sure what a locked door would do against any of the weird shit that came after me, but it was better than nothing.
Outside, it sounded as if a tornado was tearing the whole building down. Panic began to set in. Trapped. Helpless. I needed to calm down but couldn’t. It was too loud. I began to count the tiles in an attempt to keep my attention on anything other than the terrifying chaos that was my life. By fifty-five, my phone began to ring, and I remembered the email. The guy. What if it was the guy?
I cracked the door open, and amidst the chaos, I found it. It was on the floor, discarded in my lapse in judgment. Desperate, I hurried forward and grasped it in my hand, before hurriedly returning to my sorry excuse for a sanctuary.
“Hello!” I huffed as my back hit the door, and I hit the accept button.
“Amelia Snow?” The voice was deep, male, and thickly accented.
“This is she,” I screeched the last word as the bathroom door shook violently.
“Is everything alright?” the man asked.
“Fucking great! Everything’s great!” I gripped my hair, rocking back and forth. “Who is this?”
“This is Owen McKenna.” He sounded concerned. “You emailed me? About your problem?”
Something exploded, rattling the walls, the floor. I held my head tighter. “Yes. Yes. Please.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“You said a jinni was possessing all your girlfriends?” There was no point in beating around the bush. There was no time for it. I could die at any moment, and dammit, at the very least, I wanted answers before that happened.
The line was silent for a full minute, before he murmured a simple, “Aye.” It was soft, low, and followed by dead silence, but it made me sit up straighter.
“I’ve had the same problem. Only minus the boyfriends. He always scares them off before I get that far. Now he’s a man,” I spoke in a rush, relaying the details.
“Are you safe?” he asked, that concern still lacing each word.
“Doubt it,” I replied in a dry tone. “That doesn’t really happen though. Did you get rid of yours?”
“Where are you?” he asked instead of answering.
I rolled my eyes. “In a bathroom.”
“Is it there with you?” His tone remained serious, like a nine-one-one operator.
“He’s fighting a demon right now.” I’m fucking insane. “Did you get rid of yours?”
Another long pause. “Aye.”
“How?” I all but yelled into the phone.
“Magic.”
My brow furrowed. “How?”
“Scottish history is riddled with talk of ancient druids and the magic they used. I never believed any of it until…well, you can imagine how much you’re willing to believe after dealing with the supernatural firsthand.”
My heart stopped beating, and a thrill of excitement ran through me. “Your life is normal now?” A normal life. Was it even possible?
“No, but it could be. If I chose for it too. Ever since it stopped, I’ve been helping others. Most of the people who contact me don’t actually need my help. Some just want to joke about things they don’t understand.”
Brady let out a roar, and another explosion sounded.
“Judging by that noise, I don’t think you’re either of those things.”
“Can you help me?” I asked as I crawled further away from the door and huddled into the opposite corner of the room.
“Where do you live?”
I paused. Strange man on the internet asking where I live. Big red flag. Then I thought about Brady. If he couldn’t get rid of Brady, I had no doubts Brady could get rid of him. “Redbird Falls, Michigan. The United States.”
He paused for a moment. “I’m currently in Scotland. It will take me a few days.”
My heart sank. Brady was right outside the door. Would I last a few days? Yes. I would. I’d lasted years. I could make it this final bit. Freedom. Peace. It was so close I could almost touch it.
“I can make it,” I said. “I’m staying at a hotel right now. I’ll text you the address.”
“Very good,” he said, voice distant. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? What’s happening now?”
That’s when I realized the noise had stopped completely. “Something’s happened.” I listened closely. I could hear heavy footsteps moving across the floor.
“Amelia?”
Shit! “I have to go,” I hissed into the phone. “I’ll talk to you soon.” I ended the call and stood, then reluctantly pulled the door open.
Brady didn’t have a scratch on him, and the room looked the same as I’d left it.
“Did you get rid of the piggybacking demon?” I searched the bed, then looked back to him.
He grinned. “Piggybacking demon?”
“What? What else am I supposed to call it?”
“That, my lovely little Amelia, was a djinni. We’re the same; it’s just much less impressive.”
“If you’re so much more impressive, why’d it sound like a wa
r zone out here?”
Brady grimaced. “There was more than one of them.”
My heart jumped. “Did you get them all?” I searched the room again and took a step in his direction.
Brady smiled. “I did. You’re safe.” He began to lean closer.
I took a massive step back. “So, in other words, you really look like that thing, and this,” I used my hand to motion to the mountain of man that was Brady, “overcompensating much?”
Brady’s smile widened. “While my kind can take many forms, we are always a reflection of the magic we possess. That djinni could probably inhabit another, but it could never choose a human form for itself. Well,” he paused, “It could, but it’d be so damn ugly, it’d never be able to walk around unnoticed.”
“This,” Brady gestured to himself the way I had a moment before, “is my form. Only the strongest of my kind are able to do this.”
I didn’t have a reply. If what Brady said was true, would Mr. McKenna be outmatched? I hadn’t thought of the possibility of him being legitimate, and Brady still getting rid of him.
Like Justin.
Shaking my head, I dismissed the thought. I would just have to deal with that when the time came. I needed it. This chance. It felt like my last.
“I’m tired,” I said as if that would mean anything to the thing that had spent most of my life preventing me from sleeping. “You can go now.”
“Not yet.” He stepped over to the table and pulled out a chair. “I ordered some food. We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t, and when the hell did you order food?”
“Yes, we do, and right before I called you out of the bathroom.”
As if on cue, someone knocked on the door. “Room service.”
“Who’s going to pay for that? Speaking of which, you owe me forty dollars.” I pointed an annoyed finger.
“It’s taken care of.” He smirked at me before opening the door. In walked a stunning woman, probably only a couple years older than me, pushing a huge cart full of food.
I realized, once again, my lack of clothing and rushed into the bathroom. My jeans and shirt still sat where I’d left them, and I listened to the sound of her voice as I slipped them back on.