One Wish Away (Djinn Empire Book 1)

by Ingrid Seymour

  I spread my consciousness further, wondering if I’d be able to sense Zet. I was pretty sure that I had sensed him before. All those times when the woods by the nursery had spooked me. The crows, the cat, it had all been him. But now I couldn’t sense anything and felt fairly certain Zet wasn’t here.

  Not sure whether it would work, I bit the tip of my index finger. Holding the stone in one hand, I squeezed the small wound, trying to force out a drop of blood. Barely a speck welled up. My hands were so cold and my heart beat so fast that the task seemed impossible.

  A gentle ripple of water inside the basin caught my eye. Without stopping to think how inappropriate or profane it might be, I dipped my finger in the basin. The speck of blood washed off. A faint red trail stayed behind as I pulled it away. I dabbed water onto the stone. Nothing.

  What little blood I’d drawn was in the font. Determined to make this work, I immersed the stone into the stoup, hoping the holy water might help spread the blood. I held my breath, but still nothing happened. My heart sank.

  I was about to give up when I noticed a faint glow in the center of the stone. Growing in intensity, the fiery light spread outward and shone on every cuneiform character until the inscriptions rearranged and became legible. I read the words, rooted to the spot.

  Blood to bind.

  Blood to release.

  Curse and greed a prison.

  Once human, though never again,

  Unless what was once denied is clearly requited.

  My mind raced, trying to memorize the words as they quickly became unintelligible again. When the old script returned, I took the stone from the basin, thoughts bouncing all over the place, trying to understand the obscure message.

  The only lines that readily made sense were the second and third. I had needed blood to release Faris, that much was clear. He had been imprisoned due to a curse. And the greed of his masters prevented him from staying outside his prison for very long. No big questions there.

  I then considered the first line and felt fairly certain that blood must have been used to curse Faris, too. The question was: Whose blood? His? Someone else’s? I couldn’t be sure, although it made sense for it to be his own blood.

  Then there were the last two lines: Once human, but never again, unless what was once denied is clearly requited. This was obviously the key to breaking Faris’s curse. But could it be any more cryptic?

  What he once denied? How was I supposed to know what that meant? What did he deny? Zet said that Faris had denied seducing Cala and any responsibility in her death. But that didn’t make any sense, how could those things make him free? My head spun, thoughts chasing each other in an endless circle.

  Maybe if I didn’t think so hard about it, something would occur to me. Maybe if I looked away, like letting my gaze skim over a crowd to find a familiar face, the face that would always draw my eyes even among a million others . . . maybe then the answer to the riddle would come to me.

  Suddenly, Faris’s image materialized in my mind. His beautiful dark eyes. His full lips. His crippling smile. The face of the one who could guide me.

  And just like that, an idea started to take shape in the distance, its features indistinct and discolored. I looked away from it, determined to let it take shape unmolested. I would still try to save Maven, but if the idea fully formed before it was too late, I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  28

  To my relief, Zet didn’t pester me as I left the church. I was driving home, hands tight at the wheel, when I sensed a slight change in the air pressure inside the car.

  “I asked you for some privacy,” I said to the emptiness. It hurt to be mean to him, but if my budding idea never came to be, all I had to offer him was betrayal. It was best if he started hating me right away. Why delay the inevitable?

  Faris appeared in the passenger seat. “Where did you go?”

  “I already told you. Church. I needed to pray.” My words were clipped. I gave him a severe look to discourage any more questions.

  “Were you praying for anything in particular?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I ask what?”

  “Guidance.” I almost stopped there, but my insides churned. He deserved more, so much more. Honesty, he’d said. I exhaled, feeling exhausted. “Guidance regarding my third wish.” Partial honesty was all I could give him.

  “Any luck?”

  “I . . . I don’t think so.”

  “You know you’ll never see me again . . . once you . . . wish me away.”

  I slammed on the brakes. The driver behind me swerved and blew the horn as he passed by.

  “That’s unfair. I’m not wishing you away. I don’t have a choice.” The heat of rage at my impotence rose in my chest. One more car drove around us, but the neighborhood streets were mostly empty.

  “You could tell me what happened. I know Zet got to you—”

  “I can’t tell you, all right?” And even if I was allowed, how could I explain what I was about to do to him? “I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, it’s not easy for me.”

  “It isn’t?” His question brimmed with hope for something I couldn’t admit, not now. He had no right to ask, anyway. Whatever words he expected of me, I couldn’t give him. Not when he would be gone into oblivion tomorrow night, when the only hope left was a half-formed plan. Yet I couldn’t deliberately keep hurting him. He’d been good to me.

  “Of course it isn’t easy, Faris.” I allowed myself what felt like the lamest smile. “I’ve gotten to . . . like you. You’re . . . my friend.”

  For a moment, a flash of understanding shone in his eyes, then pain took its place, though it disappeared in a second. His businesslike expression from the first day returned with a vengeance.

  “Of course,” he said, placing his palms on bent knees, twisting in his seat, getting ready for something dreadful, but inevitable—a tidal wave headed his way. “Your wish is my command.” His tone was clipped, official.

  “Faris.” His name, one word, which could very well have meant, “come on, give me a break.” But he didn’t. Instead, he vanished, leaving behind a repeating echo.

  Ready when you are.

  Ready when you are.

  Ready when you are.

  ***

  “Do you know how sweet revenge is?” Abby asked, changing the direction of her ongoing monolog and pushing her plate aside. Ben & Bayou buzzed with its usual chatter of neighborhood patrons. Zet’s threat from last night had rung in my ears all day, giving me the worst headache.

  I looked up from my bowl of gumbo. Abby had asked me out to dinner and, toying with the idea of baring it all to my friend, I’d agreed. So far, though, I’d managed to tell her nothing—unless grunts counted.

  “Yeah?” I said absently.

  She gave me a mischievous grin to show me how sweet she considered said revenge.

  Mildly curious, I asked, “What did you do?”

  “I asked Caleb Grissom to Brett’s party tonight,” she said as if a better idea might have burned a fuse in her brain.

  I failed to see the brilliance in it. “So?”

  Abby blinked several times, looking at me as if I was dumb. “Duh, Caleb happens to be the only guy Kurt was ever jealous of.”

  “You’re assuming Kurt will still care.”

  “Oh, he cares, all right. He was all up in my business already, asking Claudia the scoop about my date.” She laughed with pleasure. “And the best part, Kurt has a reason to be jealous, if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  “I see. Well, good for you. Kurt Dowell, eat your heart out.” I was happy somebody was getting back at her sleazy ex. I’d contemplated making my third wish an epic revenge against Jeremy, but what a waste that would be. I sighed and went back to staring at my bowl.

  “What about you? Who are you bringing to the party? Oooh, you should ask Faris!” Abby said.

  “I’m not going.”

  “Wait, what?! Why? You have to
come.” She pointed straight at my nose in a hostile threat.

  “It’s Tuesday. Who throws parties on Tuesdays? I gotta work tomorrow.”

  “Brett’s roommate is out of town, so he has the house all to himself for the night. Gotta make the most of it. Kurt is inviting some of his U.N.O. buddies. Don’t you want to suck some sweet college boy blood?” She bared her fangs.

  I shrugged. I didn’t have the right head for it. Other things, important things like life and death, took precedence. Not to mention that all the college talk always made me feel inadequate.

  “Oh, you’re too chicken to ask Faris,” she said as if she’d just discovered my biggest secret.

  “No, it’s not that. Things . . . changed since yesterday.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I tried very hard to think of an excuse. “Well, uh, he’s . . . leaving town.”

  “Leaving town?” A crease formed between her pencil-thin eyebrows. “But why? He can’t leave. Who’s gonna save us damsels in distress if he’s gone?”

  A puff of air escaped through my mouth. If she only knew.

  “Oh, don’t act like that wasn’t like the coolest thing ever. He just touched that dog and zap, it went down.” She tapped a long pink fingernail to her lips. “Hmm, if he’s still in town, maybe he can still go with you.”

  “No, Abby.”

  “Bummer. He’s totally into you, Elle.”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think he—”

  “Like hell he isn’t. Haven’t you noticed the way he looks at you? You’d have to be blind not to see that. If I didn’t know better I’d say he’s in love with you. But that would be creepy, I guess, since you just met him. Unless you believe in love at first sight.”

  “Shut up, Abby.”

  “Hey! Why so mean? Sheesh . . . Wait a minute, you’re into him, aren’t you? Oh, my God.” She hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I’m so stupid. You like him, and . . . and you don’t want to get attached because he’s leaving.”

  “Well, aren’t you a regular old shrink, now?” I said bitterly, surprised by how easily she’d stumbled upon the truth. It had taken me much longer to understand how I felt. I’d thought I was good at hiding my feelings, but, clearly, I was only good at fooling myself.

  We chitchatted for a few more minutes, then Abby left to get ready for the party. I stayed behind, claiming I was going to order dessert and a cup of coffee. Instead, I just sat there, staring at the cold shrimp floating in my gumbo’s dark roux.

  Unexpectedly, soothing warmth glided down my neck. My eyes closed. A deep voice spoke behind me. I held my breath.

  “I’d love to go with you.” Faris pulled out the chair next to mine and straddled it. He gave me a sexy smile and looked deep into my eyes.

  I frowned, surprised by the big change in his attitude. What had happened to ready when you are? “This isn’t the time for parties,” I said.

  “On the contrary. If you think about it, it is. I’ll be . . . leaving soon. A celebration is in order.”

  I shook my head. The idea was ridiculous.

  “I want to celebrate and pretend life is normal,” he said.

  I huffed. There was nothing worth celebrating and life was most definitely not normal.

  “You may think there is nothing to celebrate.” Faris’s tone grew intimate, almost a whisper in my ear. “I, on the other hand, think there’s much to celebrate. Meeting you, for one. I’m glad I was here, even if only for a short time. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. We could . . . go out with a bang tonight. What do you say?”

  I smoothed my eyebrows with my index and middle fingers as if to brush off a headache. I shook my head ever so slightly. Nothing good could come of it. I needed to stay home to gather my thoughts and strength, to give that idea time to grow.

  “Please,” he begged. “For me.”

  So unfair, so heart-wrenchingly unfair!

  I gave him a quiet nod. How could I say no when the only other thing I had to offer him was oblivion?

  29

  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out half the lyrics of the rap song blasting out of the large speakers. Something about yellow Lamborghinis, look-at-me-nows and curse words. Totally lost on me. I’d been working too hard at the nursery and listening to oldies with Grandpa while the world moved on without me.

  “Chris Brown’s da man.” Brett shuffled his feet and shoulders in a sly dance move in beat with the loud music. “What can I get you?” He dipped his hand into a large white cooler. Condensation seeped into the patio’s concrete floor. It was hot. I could definitely use a cold drink.

  “Coke,” I said.

  “Come again.”

  “Coke,” I said louder, cupping a hand around my mouth.

  Brett handed me a chilled can, took a Coors for himself and shut the lid. “Abby said you’re waiting for that Faris guy.” He leaned in closer to talk, instead of yelling over the throbbing bass of the music.

  “So?” I said defensively. I had driven to the party alone after begging Faris to give me some time on my own. The calm ride here had cleared my mind and helped me flesh out my idea, giving me back a bit of hope.

  “Not cool, Marielle. You know Jeremy’s my homeboy.” He shook his head and clucked his tongue.

  “Jeremy and I broke up a while ago. That’s water waaaay under the bridge, Brett.” I wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but this was his party, after all.

  I knew being here would turn out to be a mistake. I looked at my watch. Eleven. Only one hour before Zet’s deadline. I wiped sweat off my forehead.

  “Marielle,” Brett leaned even closer and spoke in a conspiratorial tone, “the dude’s still into you, talks about you all the time. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hooking up again.”

  I took a step back, making firm eye contact. “Not interested.”

  Brett put his hands up in a your-loss gesture, then swaggered off, pants low on his hips, showing checkered boxers underneath. I wondered if it would be a waste if I wished for him never to be able to wear his pants any other way. I imagined him as an executive in a board meeting, wearing Tweety Bird underpants as he gave a presentation. I smirked. It might have been worth it if I thought he’d get farther than Mickey D’s. Apparently, he was wasting his time at the University of New Orleans.

  I busied myself smoothing my lilac, knee-length dress to disguise my discomfort, then walked to the patio’s edge. The night was clear and warm. A tall wooden fence surrounded the small backyard. Off to the side, a nice oak tree with an empty swing tempted me, offering some solitude. Popping the tab on the can, I started toward the tree.

  “I can help you with that.” Jeremy came out of nowhere to stand next to me. “Let me pour it in a cup for you.” A calculating smile accompanied his tipped eyebrow.

  I didn’t like the suggestive tone of his voice. “Leave me alone, you aspiring rapist,” I said the last two words with as much venom as possible. Jeremy’s eyes widened with surprise for a split second, as if the words had struck a chord with him.

  Emboldened by his reaction, I took a step closer, baring my teeth. Oddly, I felt bigger than him, even if he stood six inches taller. “I’ve been thinking real hard,” I hissed. “And I’ve decided to believe all the things they say about you, even the really awful ones. I have a feeling they’ll soon catch up with you, Jeremy. As a matter of fact, I’m certain.” I didn’t know why, but my words felt powerful and true. I knew there were many rumors about him. I’d just never paid close attention.

  A twitch of something like panic twisted the corner of his lips, making me realize I was actually onto something. Then, just as quickly as it came, his panic left.

  When he spoke, he sounded unaffected. “What are you, a witch or something? Or maybe you’ve just gone cuckoo. I didn’t think getting dumped would hit you that hard,” he mocked. “Sorry about that, babe. But I had to. You quit being fun. Gave it up too easily.” He looked so pleased with himself, I had to take a bi
g breath not to slap him like I’d done in the French Quarter.

  “You’re a scumbag, Jeremy. You feel so proud of yourself because you get stupid girls like me to fall for you,” I said, as all trace of the shame I’d felt for being naïve and falling for him melted away. “You think that makes you a man? Well, it doesn’t. Real men aren’t vile and dishonest. My only mistake was trusting you. Your mistakes probably keep you up at night. And if they don’t yet, they will soon enough.”

  He lost his cool and snarled. “You tell yourself that.”

  “One day soon, you won’t like the man in the mirror. I feel sorry for you.” I didn’t, but I said it because I knew it would anger him further.

  “You bitches are all the same,” he snapped, voice dropping an octave to a near growl, barely audible through the loud music and chatter of people. He grasped my upper arm with a large hand and squeezed. “Acting all self-righteous with your phony morals. But I know what you want, I know what y’all want.” He grinned like a demented person, giving me an even better glimpse of his perverse, nauseating nature.

  “That’s enough,” Faris said from behind.

  Jeremy’s eyes swirled like magic eight balls until they settled on Faris. He let my arm go and took a step back, looking like a murderer caught red-handed at a crime scene. He retreated, snarling like the beast he was.

  I tried to swallow, but a huge lump in my throat stopped me. Tipping the Coke to my lips, I gulped, letting the fizz burn on its way down.

  “Are you okay?” Faris asked.

  I shrugged and looked away, unsure of how I felt.

  “That was very brave of you,” he said, searching my eyes.

  “You think?” I asked mockingly.

  “No doubt about it.” Our eyes locked. A smile—tentative but warm—tweaked his full mouth. “I think you needed that.”

  I nodded, lowered my head and looked inward, trying to understand how I felt. A sense of release filled the place where bitterness and self-reproach had been.

  “You’re right.” I nodded. “I did.”