Oculus

by S. E. Akers

  I doubted a full second had turned over when he replied, “I figured you would be calling.”

  “Tanner’s here, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Silas confirmed. “He arrived over an hour ago.”

  “How much layria bark did he bring back?” I asked while the sounds of a dump truck backing up to the house blared in my head.

  “Not enough to shake a stick at,” Silas said flatly.

  As relieved as I was, his disclosure still had me wincing. “So what kind of mood is he in?”

  “Are we making a courteous inquiry?” Silas posed dryly.

  “No,” I admitted. “More like testing the waters.”

  “Open the door,” Silas requested.

  Sure enough, there he was standing out in the hall. Considering the incredible high I was on and the exceptionally pompous air he was sporting this morning, I couldn’t resist a little ribbing. Despite my diehard & determined will with respect to secrets, my biggest weakness was trying to keep mum when it came to giving someone a much deserved “busting”. So instead of orchestrating some elaborate gotcha-scheme like I’d intended, I went with subtle and started scanning the stone floor out in the hall.

  Silas followed every painstaking sweep I made to the point of getting flustered. Plus, blocking him from my thoughts had that haughty brow looking as rumpled as my bed sheets.

  “Did we lose something?” he inquired with a noticeable undertone of agitation.

  “No,” I replied with a frivolous wave. “I was just wondering how many cylinders that magic carpet of yours runs on and where the hell you stowed it so quickly?” And I about nicked my lips when I bit back the shit-eaten grin trying to pave itself across my face.

  The house steward’s initial expression looked so blasé, I couldn’t tell if he was the least bit proud of my sleuthing abilities. “It took you long enough,” he finally remarked and then strutted into the room, his nose as high and stretched as wide as a brass eagle atop a flagpole. “Your biggest clue should have been when I pegged your faeries. Only Fae eyes have the ability to do that with the accuracy I displayed.”

  “You know, I must have been a little distracted with the nuclear bomb that your cousins had just dropped.” I clasped my hands together, his eyes forcibly strained. “Please forgive my oversight.”

  “Ah well,” Silas sighed. “Better to arrive late to the party than never finding your way there at all.” His mouth twisted into a stern sneer. “And for the record, Djinns are nothing like how they’re depicted in books or the movies. We don’t wear turbans, nor have piercings or tattoos . . . And above all, I personally loathe the name ‘Genie’ to the depths of my Veil-born soul. I won’t tolerate any mockery or foolish stereotyping, is that understood?”

  I pressed my palms together and dipped into a humble bow. “Your wish is my command.” I shot back up and pointed my finger warily. “But be advised. You’ve only got two left.”

  Silas’ eyes narrowed on the spot. “Do you remember how that iron bridle felt shoved in that smart aleck mouth of yours or must I give you a refresher?”

  I held up my hand. “Say no more. I promise on Aladdin himself that I won’t utter another word,” I vowed. “How is he by the way?”

  He kicked up the heat on his already scorching stare. “Is there something you needed, Ms. Wallace?”

  “Yes,” I said and retrieved the list of instructions I’d finalized after hopping out of the shower. I waited for Silas to finish reading it before I announced wholeheartedly, “I’m ready.”

  The house steward glanced at my notes again and then returned his gaze to mine, studying my stance critically. “Yes . . . You look ready.”

  Hearing his confirmation had me beaming like a green bulb on a traffic light.

  “So? Which creature?” he asked.

  “All of them,” I said doubtlessly.

  “Eager and ambitious,” Silas nodded.

  “So what do you think my chances are?”

  “Why are you asking me?” he laughed. “Something tells me this may be your lucky day.”

  “No, I mean my chances that Tanner will let me face all of them.”

  “I don’t see why he wouldn’t—”

  “Alone,” I clarified, eyes unwavering.

  His lips stretched with amusement. “Ms. Wallace, finding a penny face-up is a lucky occurrence or stumbling upon a rare four-leaf clover. But I’m afraid you won’t find any pots of gold lying at the end of that far-fetched rainbow, certainly not with respect to the chimera. He’ll never agree to let you battle that beast without him being present.”

  My frustration drove me straight to the bed where I yanked back the duvet in a huff. “Why not?”

  “Because you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t saved you from it,” Silas remarked confidently.

  I gave the sheets a testy tug up to the headboard and whirled around. “That was my first night here!” I protested.

  Silas shook his head. “No. I’m talking about the second time.”

  There went all the rosy right out of my cheeks. “WHAT?”

  “When you ran in there half-cocked ahead of Professor Grey,” he began. “It seems that in light of your stubbornness and his haste to gather up some layria bark that he made a slight miscalculation with its handling.”

  The regretful look glazing Silas’ moss-green eyes was all the confirmation I needed. “NO…” I gasped and as I plopped down onto the edge of my bed.

  “Poor fellow was sprawled on the floor and out like a bad bulb by the time I came along.” Silas’ head swayed back and forth like the irksome nag of a rickety old rocking chair. “I’ve seen vultures picking at road-kill sporting more life.”

  “He never told me,” I muttered, my chest heavy.

  “Of course not,” Silas admitted. “The thought of what could have happened because he wasn’t there to protect you alarmed him.”

  “But he can’t be there for me all the time,” I argued.

  “He thinks he can, and that’s all that matters,” Silas vowed. “But to give your question a more proper answer, that would be a firm, ‘Not on your life’ — literally.”

  I wasn’t about to let that stand in my way, not with five months left on my shaman’s stone decree. “I’ll just get rid of the others first,” I insisted, rising to my feet with a firm stomp. “Then he’ll come around. He has to see that doing it by myself is just as important to me.”

  “I’m sure he’s aware, but what you desire is highly unlikely.”

  “I killed one all by myself in The Darklands last night,” I huffed.

  “Mentioning that to him won’t help plead your case,” Silas affirmed with a hearty chuckle.

  I spotted something glowing under the sheets when I started to pull up the duvet. Silas noticed it too. He trawled his hand under the covers and fished it out immediately. My eyes lit like sparklers when I spied what he held between his fingers. It was the other black diamond I’d carved out in The Darklands, the one I hadn’t used, still crackling with the wicked red lightning I’d fed into it.

  “I see we brought home a souvenir,” he sneered.

  “I guess so,” I muttered, still sort of amazed. Silas started to toss it to me when I threw up my hands. “Easy!” I warned. “If you bust that thing open in here, then you really will have a mess to clean!”

  The house steward honed his smirk and then pitched the diamond straight at the wall behind me. I pulled out of my bracing duck when I heard it land on the floor like any other common-variety yard rock.

  “That diamond may be cut from your skin and claim your powers, but it wasn’t born here, and Earth magic prevents its use in this realm,” he explained. “Though it would make a fetching paper weight.”

  That piqued my curiosity. “Can it return to The Darklands?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Silas replied. “Though I seriously hope you aren’t entertaining another trip.”

  “No,” I assured him. “Last night’s adventure was enough to do m
e for a while. You weren’t kidding about the feelings that come with its power.”

  The ever-so-humble house steward lowered his knowing stare. “Did it leave a bad taste in your mouth?”

  “And everywhere else,” I shuddered as a nasty cringe rolled down my spine.

  “Good,” Silas glared and pulled the duvet up to the headboard. “Now, I’m heading back up to the kitchen to finish breakfast. But don’t worry. I shall have everything set and ready to go as per your instructions,” he announced, waving the slip of paper in the air.

  “Don’t break your neck doing it,” I groused. “It may be for naught.”

  Silas paused in the doorway. “Ms. Wallace, I am in possession of some trustworthy advice when it comes to dealing with individuals who believe they have control over you . . . May I share it with you?”

  My ears were burning in wait. “Shoot.”

  The firmness in Silas’ gaze stung like a whip. “The first chance you get, do something bold enough to let them know that you’re the boss. Show them who’s really in charge.” He grabbed the knob and began closing the door with the slyest of looks deviling his eyes. “And you can take that from a Djinn who’s been shackled to many masters over the years and knows the value of its worth.”

  A firm belief emerged while I stared at the closed door. Nope, I smiled. I could never imagine Silas letting anyone hogtie him — whether he was magically fettered to the demands of a master or not.

  “And Ms. Wallace,” Silas called telepathically. “Don’t think for a second that I didn’t see your brassy little scribble on the notepad beside your bed. I’ll be thinking about it when I’m scrambling your eggs.”

  I walked over to the bedside table and picked up the pad to find my “Genie” drawing altered a touch. The letters had been magically erased, and my cute little bottle now bore a striking resemblance to a particular finger sticking up.

  I tossed it back down. Show-off...

  I whirled around towards the bed and started smacking and slamming all fifteen pillows into their respective places. What’s something “bold” that I can do to get him to take me seriously? Now that was the million-dollar question. Arguing wouldn’t do any good… Asking nicely wasn’t going to sway him an inch either… And pouting would only leave me looking like a sourpuss-faced little girl. Unfortunately it seemed I had far more “baffled & bummed” brewing right now than any “bold & brazen”. I glanced at the clock, noting the ten minutes I had left before breakfast. Hopefully something would light a bulb in my head before I hit the dining room. I didn’t think it was an unreasonable request.

  Especially on a day when everything is supposed to be coming up “Shiloh”, I affirmed with a curt nod to the universe.

  I shifted my focus and started scanning the floor for my diamond souvenir. Several fruitless passes sent me over to the switch plate on the wall. I’d no sooner doused the lights when I caught its eerie red glow coming from underneath the dresser. I dropped down on all fours, swiped my hand under its base, and then pulled out the stone without the slightest clingy trace of a dust-bunny on any of my fingers, which only affirmed my “lucky day” that much more — ’cause that never happens!

  I rose to my feet and tucked the diamond into the front pocket of my jeans with a heartfelt grin. It may be a useless hunk of electrically-charged carbon here, but I had something special planned for this cursed little fellow.

  With that taken care of, I flipped the lights back on with the help of a mild gust. Then I swiftly turned and started towards the bathroom for a final salute to Mother Nature before heading upstairs — only to crash into a daggone tower of cardboard boxes that had freakishly erected itself directly behind me and right under my very nose.

  WHAT THE HELL? I lay there on the hardwood planks, both mentally and physically floored. None of the boxes containing Beatrix’s things were sitting this close a second ago, and they certainly weren’t stacked like that. I looked down to the open carton lying on its side to my right. Something awfully telling had fallen out of it.

  A schemey smile emerged as I picked up my solid from the cosmos, forcing my dimples to sink deeper into my cheeks. I wasn’t sure how, but I had a sneaky suspicion as to whose “otherworldly hands” had thrown me this precious bone, possibly from her lips to one of my faery’s ears. Of course I seemed to remember someone catching her pretending-to-be-blind rear after running into the pyramid I’d assembled for her.

  I hopped to my feet and gave my godsend a grateful toss before slipping it into my pocket. Thanks, Bea, I whispered up to the ceiling, eyes dewy and beaming.

  Ten minutes later, I was topside and strolling a casual and confident path to the dining room. There may have been a few dance-like moves and a couple of modest twirls before I got there — and I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed to admit it.

  Silas was setting the table when I arrived. “Professor Grey is on his way up,” he remarked.

  “Perfect,” I said.

  He stopped polishing the fork in his hand to acknowledge my enthusiasm. “I hope that buoyant mood is because you plan on giving us a good show. I’ll have you know up front that I expect my money’s worth for what I had to put up with this summer.”

  “I’ll try my best not to disappoint,” I said, fingers crossed.

  Silas gave my arm an endearing squeeze as Tanner stepped into the room. “Not to worry, Ms. Wallace . . . You won’t,” he whispered.

  Tanner came to stop so fast he almost tripped on the rug. Whether it was the gentle bend of Silas’ smile or the sparkle I could feel lighting my eyes, something sure had “pinged” on his radar.

  “I thought I sensed something strange in the air,” Tanner remarked, bouncing his skeptical stare between the two of us. “And after seeing the two of you so cozy, now I’m certain they’re throwing snowballs in hell. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” we sang in chorus, which only boosted the confusion pummeling his eyes.

  After a few more doubt-filled seconds, Tanner finally shrugged off his suspicions and tossed a small pouch onto the table. “That’s all I could round up,” he admitted before heading to his chair. You would’ve thought he’d delivered a death sentence from the grimness in his tone. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind; he was really going to shit a brick with what I had tucked up my sleeve.

  I picked up the leather pouch. “This is all of it?” I asked. “You don’t have anymore? Anywhere?”

  “No,” Tanner assured as his hands gripped the back of his chair. “And there won’t be any sprouting from the earth for another six months.”

  “Then I guess I need to be careful,” I acknowledged with a flinch and laid the pouch back down on the table. But instead of taking my seat, I lifted the silver dome covering my breakfast with one hand and dug my other straight into my pocket. With the help of a stout and speedy gust, I blew the pouch inside the lid, gave Bea’s golden lighter a flick, and then pitched the lit & locked baby into the metal vessel. It happened so fast Tanner didn’t have time to react. Though the incinerating “WHOOSH” of the flames when I kicked them up with a little more wind gave his full bottom lip all the push it needed to drop past the edge of the table.

  The makings of a telepathic message from Silas tingled in my head. “I’ll let you know when you need to start running.”

  I dropped the dome onto the platter to extinguish the flames. Then just to be sure, I lifted it back up for a quick peek. All the layria bark was gone, pouch and all, and my breakfast appeared well past ruined. I turned to my mentor, only to spy the crown of his head and his gaze sorely directed towards the table. I trailed the stretch of his arms, starting at his burly and brooding shoulders and then all the way down to his palms as they pressed against its surface. And rest assured, every inch of his muscles pulsed with enough raw displeasure to rip a fault in the earth — San Andreas sized.

  A testy stream of air shot out of his lungs. “Do you have any idea what hell I’ve gone through over the past three days to round up what
scraps were in that pouch . . .” Tanner grumbled, his words scraping my ears like sandpaper, “ . . . only for you to fire-bomb my efforts before we hit the dungeon floor?”

  My teeth tugged at my bottom lip. If this truly was my lucky day, then the cosmos would see to it that somehow he suddenly got slapped with a wicked case of laryngitis or his lips were magically sealed shut.

  He lifted his head slowly and then pinned his stare to mine. “I sincerely hope you have a damn good reason for doing that,” he groaned, his voice bearing an ache so leaden, it begged to be put out of its misery.

  “Yeah,” I replied, sticking firmly to my guns. “Because I don’t need it.”

  Tanner’s steps carried the steady stalk of an assassin approaching their next mark. The raw look in his eyes alone could have eaten me up on the spot. He stopped two-feet away from me, possibly as a self-issued safeguard, and then slipped his arms into a steely fold at his chest. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to do much better than that.”

  Neck-deep and feeling more determined than ever, I plowed straight through the prickliness wafting in the air and charged on. “Because I’m planning on getting rid of them,” I rephrased and raised my head higher. “All of them . . . Today.”

  Tanner remained particularly hushed as he peered deeply into my eyes, undoubtedly feeling out the passion fueling my out-of-the-blue resolution. “And you think you’re ready to send them all back?” he probed. “All of them back? TODAY?”

  “One-hundred percent,” I confirmed. I may not claim my mentor’s prowess when assessing a person’s emotions, but I sure could tell when someone was sitting on the fence by the look swaying their eyes like a pendulum.

  I straightened my stance. “Well?”