Two years after his return from Israel, King David/Menelik appeared in her chamber door. He bowed his head and asked to enter.
“You need not stand on ritual with me, my son. You are always welcome. What do you seek?”
“Your blessings, Mother.”
She smiled. “Another marriage, my son? This will be what? The sixth? Is she pretty?”
He beamed. “Beautiful, long-limbed, large brown eyes, big baby bearing hips. She will give you many grandchildren.”
“Which family will she align you with? Are they north or south?”
“She comes from humble people, has no worldly wealth—except in the children she will bear.”
Makeda frowned. “That is a bad precedent, my son.”
“I love her.”
Her breath lodged in her throat. “You’ve never said that before.”
“Your love match was with the greatest king of all time. Who says my love match cannot be a commoner?”
Makeda sighed. “What did the ring tell you?”
“When we kissed, I felt as if I was struck by lightning. The ring burned my finger.” He pulled the seal off his left hand. Blisters seared his flesh.
“You cannot marry a commoner.” Makeda held her hand up. “I know you love her. I see the ring approves. There is another way.”
“How?”
“Make her your concubine.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Summertown, Present Day
Eliana lifted the dead girl’s hospital gown and gasped. Somehow, despite the mother’s death, the baby had survived. The baby’s tiny human head emerged from the birth canal. Mouth sucking for air, the newborn fought for life. “Arta, I could use a hand—or paw—over here.” She threw a glance over her shoulder. Nude, her beloved rose from all fours and strode to her side.
He knelt beside her. “He’s alive?”
“Yes, and in need of a doctor. You’ll do, even in your birthday suit.”
“Give me the belt to your scrubs.”
She pulled the thin blue tie out of the waistband and handed it to him.
“There may be a pair of bandage scissors on the dead nurse. Get me those and some blankets and towels. And, grab whatever lead aprons you can find.”
Bare-footed, pants falling, she sprinted back to the X-ray suite, avoided the congealing pool of blood around the nurse, and rummaged in the dead woman’s pockets. “Sorry.” In addition to the scissors, she found a pair of forceps. She rolled the top of her waistband and clamped it in place. The suite had a stack of bedding. “Blankets and towels. Bonus find—scrubs for Arta.”
The lead aprons hung over the machines in a dark corner. She lifted one. The damn things were heavy. How was she supposed to get two of them back to Arta? Her gaze snagged on a stainless steel cart laden with papers. That would do. She knocked the documents onto the concrete floor and piled everything on the top shelf. Unlocking the casters, she raced back to the boiler room and found Arta cradling a blood-slicked baby.
“He couldn’t wait.” Arta grabbed a towel and wiped the boy down. “Scissors.”
Umbilical cord tied off in two places, he snipped between the blue knots.
“Blanket.”
She handed him the thin bath blanket and watched as he swaddled the pink infant with care. “He’s so quiet. Is he okay?”
Footsteps echoed in the distant hallway.
“Seems to be. Hold him while I get dressed.” He handed the child to Eliana and hurried into the scrubs.
The baby turned and rooted at her breast. “He’s hungry. We need to get him some formula.”
“Yes, and we need to take care of ourselves, too. Prussian blue won’t protect us completely. Wrap him in one of the lead vests. I’ll put the other one around the tool box.”
A PPE clad team of four shuffled into the room. The lead person tapped his helmet. Eliana lifted her head gear and keyed the radiocomm.
“Find some formula for this child.”
“What’s that?” The leader pointed to the lead-apron draped toolbox.
“A radiation hazard with the potential to become a weapon.”
The team shuffled backward in unison, as if choreographed.
“We need an armored car to take us to the closest university with a water cooled research reactor, we need a bomb disposal robot waiting for us at the reactor, and we need to do it NOW.”
Arta said in a low voice, “You know we need to neutralize the child, too. He’s as much a risk as that jinni, maybe more because he has no control of his power.”
“Yes, there’s only one way to take care of both of them at the same time.” She gazed down into the baby’s perfect face and her chest tightened. “It’s the only choice.”
****
Arta admired Eliana as they sat in the back of the armored truck and rumbled toward Maryland. As best she could with the heavy vest, she fed, burped, and cuddled the baby as if he were her own.
“Where’d you learn to do that?”
“What?”
“Take care of a baby. More secrets?”
She laughed. “In high school, when I wasn’t studying, I used to volunteer at the NICU at Harvey Medical Center. A lot of parents came to visit and spend time with their kids, but not all the babies had competent parents. Drug addicts’ babies needed to be held, rocked, fed. The nursing staff had their hands full. I felt bad for the babies. It wasn’t their fault their mommies were addicts.” She nodded at the lead vest covered infant in her arms. “Just like this little guy. He can’t help who his father is. The sins of his father shouldn’t be held against him.” She locked gazes with him. “Unlike the ‘Ifrit, I don’t hold this baby responsible for what happened to my family.”
He nodded and flexed his fists. “What about me? Do you forgive me for the time in the desert?”
Surprise crossed her face. “How could I hold you responsible for turning into a Persian lion? That would be like me trying to control the color of my skin. It’s who you are. I love you. All of you. Whatever form you take. Just do me a favor and don’t shapeshift in bed.”
He burst out laughing. “It took me a while, but I’m not the Incredible Hulk anymore. I’m getting better control of when and where I shift.”
The truck rumbled to a stop and a voice called overhead. “College Park. We’re almost at the reactor. The bomb disposal robot is in place.”
He took a deep breath. “Now or never.” Clutching the weighty toolbox with one hand and his beloved’s elbow with the other, Arta led the way into the cinder block and lead lined building. The Cherenkov blue water that cooled the nuclear reactor seemed innocent, unless you knew it was just as radioactive as the baby and the metal container he carried.
He set the toolbox down just inside the door, and Eliana placed the naked, wailing child in the basket they’d requested. Pushing the heavy door closed, a scientist in white lab coat led them to the viewing room. Arta squeezed Ellie’s hand.
“He’ll be okay. He comes from hardy stock.”
She gave him a weak smile. “I hope you’re right.”
They stared at a computer screen with multiple views as a seasoned bomb squad expert guided the small, tank-like robot to the toolbox first. Pincers extended, the machine reached for the handle, and then lifted the box over the edge of the cobalt blue colored pool and dropped it in with a splash. The box glowed, pulsed, and turned black. Thanks to the radioactive water neutralizing him, the ‘Ifrit wasn’t radioactive anymore. Once the case was retrieved, Homeland Security would keep the jinni in a vault in perpetuity.
The robot turned toward the basket where the infant rested. Eliana clutched Arta’s hand so hard her nails dug into his palm. He squeezed back and stared at the computer screen. The baby howled like a tiny were-wolf, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. If they didn’t neutralize the child soon, his tiny tantrum could mushroom into something much more dangerous. The miniature tank lifted the handle of the loosely woven basket and slowly made its way to the
side of the pool. Arta glanced at the ordnance expert remote controlling the robot. A rivulet of sweat trickled down the side of the man’s face.
“Eliana, let us pray for the baby’s safety, for everyone’s safety.” She nodded, closed her eyes, and bowed her head on her fists, the Seal of Solomon facing outward. The two of them, she whispering in Hebrew, he in Farsi, begged for the Lord’s blessings on the child and his safe return. When she opened her eyes, the robot had crawled forward and inched the basket down into the water. The cameras caught every movement as the basket bobbed on the surface, and then began to sink. If the baby’s swimming reflex didn’t kick in, he’d drown and they’d have no way to rescue him without endangering their own lives. The water lapped over the baby’s legs, belly, and arms. His neck and chin turned blue in the cobalt water, which began to creep over his mouth and nose.
Ellie’s breathing grew rapid and shallow. Tears filled her eyes. “I can’t watch.”
“You have been called for a higher purpose. Do not despair. He is with you. Use your power to command the were-jinni.” Where did that come from? The expression on his face must have matched the astonished one on hers.
The water covered the infant’s forehead, inching toward his crown. Tears streaming down her face, Eliana screamed, “Baby, for the love of God, kick your little feet and swim.”
The newborn shot up in the water, threw his head back, and gasped for air.
“Get him out, get the basket under him and get him out,” she shouted.
The robot arm swung the container under the child and lifted him free of the water.
“He’s safe, he’s safe!” Arta reached down to kiss his beloved, but she was already out of the room. He flew after her. The scientist snatched the door open and the robot brought the basket with the baby to Ellie. He was safe and so was the world now, thank God.
Outside in the rising sun, the swaddled baby in her arms, Arta laughed with joy. Cooing and humming, she hugged and kissed his little face a million times. “You’re in love with that baby, aren’t you?”
“Is that bad?”
“No. But we have to call him something other than baby all the time. What shall we name him?”
She locked gazes with him and smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Of course. He laughed out loud. “The baby in the basket, rescued by a princess. He shall be called Moses.”
She held the baby out to him. Arta gasped. “Your arms.”
The black and white snakes were gone.
Eliana shrieked with joy and startled Moses. He wailed and howled.
“Poor baby, hush, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” She hugged and rocked him, but the child was inconsolable. “I’m sorry, so sorry.” She turned a stricken face to Arta. “What shall we do? He has no mother or father.” The baby screamed so hard he turned deep red. “He’s a new breed of supernatural creature, unlike any other before him. His mother died giving birth to him. If the werewolves won’t keep him, we can’t hand him over to the jinnis, even the good ones. They hate wolves. Who can teach him right from wrong and how to control his powers? Who will accept him and raise him as a normal child?”
The baby and Eliana sobbed.
Arta wrapped his arms around her and the baby ceased crying. Open-mouthed, eyes wide, his beloved gazed at him in awe. He knew what they needed to do.
Epilogue
Washington, D.C., One Year Later
A plethora of colors and scents of the national flower surrounded the couple in the U.S. Botanic Gardens in Washington, D.C. Standing in the center of an octagonal parterre, Eliana, dressed in a simple ivory white suit, held a bouquet of red roses and Arta, wore a navy blue blazer with a red rose boutonniere in his lapel. The retired African-American judge known for his civil rights activism beamed at the couple as he read a Rumi poem provided by Arta’s mother.
“May these vows and this marriage be blessed.
May it be sweet milk,
this marriage, like wine and halvah.
May this marriage offer fruit and shade
like the date palm.
May this marriage be full of laughter,
our every day a day in paradise.
May this marriage be a sign of compassion,
a seal of happiness here and hereafter.
May this marriage have a fair face and a good
name, an omen as welcomes the moon in a clear
blue sky. I am out of words to describe
how spirit mingles in this marriage.”
The judge cleared his throat. “I am out of words—almost. This union is special not just because you love one another, but because you love this baby enough to take care of him when others might not. Your differences make you strong. Others may see it as a weakness, a place where a wedge goes. I’m betting right now, your parents, Eliana’s father, Arta’s mother, are worried about your future, how others will treat you. I grew up in a time when a black man and a white woman could not love one another in public. We are now in a time when Jews, Muslims, Christians, and many others may question your choice of mates. Do not allow narrow minds and mean hearts to dictate your decisions. True love knows no color, no religion, and no creed. May you and your blended family be blessed and may you grow and prosper in a country free from prejudice and terror. You may kiss the bride.”
Arta tipped Eliana back for a passionate kiss. Their families and friends, including her boss, burst into applause and shouts. “Congratulations! Mazel tov! Tabrik Meegam!”
Eliana gazed at her husband. Truly they were a blended family. The Adalwolf pack, still in mourning over the loss of their young women, refused to take Moses into the family. Lowell Adalwolf, speaking for the clan, had said, “We would do him a disservice if we attempted to raise him as a normal member of our pack. We have no way of controlling his jinni powers—or our memories. We cannot forgive and forget.” She and Arta agreed to keep the infant and raise him as their own child.
Moses Joshua Solomon-Shahani sat on her boss’s lap, playing with a large black and white feather. Bert had given it to the child and told Eliana since he was the baby’s honorary uncle, Moses was now a member of his tribe.
When they had given Arta’s mother and sister the news they were engaged, the women welcomed her with open arms and promises of Persian cooking lessons. Her father, on the other hand, had required some convincing. He was worried about how the world would treat them, yes, but more importantly he wondered if the man who left his daughter to die in the desert could be trusted. After a very difficult conversation, a lengthy description of Arta’s family history, and an on the spot demonstration of Arta’s shape shifting ability, the astonished rabbi had come around. Today, he clutched his new son-in-law to his chest with tears in his eyes. “Take good care of her. She’s all I have.”
She loved the contemporary house they found halfway between the new grandparents’ homes. With a home office, Arta was able to continue to practice psychiatry, specializing in jinni possession. He also consulted for Homeland on difficult cases, some involving shape-shifters. Her job still meant a lot to her, but was no longer her entire world. Eliana served as a consultant for the Science and Technology Directorate Anomaly Defense Division and was training her successor.
The new jinni hunter’s grandmother had worked for the O.S.S., the Office of Strategic Services, the predecessor of the Central Intelligence Agency, in the China-Burma-India theatre during World War II. When Jane Holloway disappeared, everyone assumed she was dead. A year later, she reappeared in the O.S.S. station in Calcutta with a wild story of meeting a jinni who rescued and took her to his realm. The O.S.S. provided the AWOL woman with a Section Eight discharge and a one-way ticket to St. Elizabeth’s Hospital in Washington, D.C. Released to her worried family after three months of treatment that included electro-shock therapy, Jane never spoke of her time in Burma again. Two generations later, her granddaughter found her grandmother’s journals in a trunk in the attic of the family farmhouse and realized h
er “crazy” grandmother may not have been hallucinating.
Eliana thought the new girl would grow into the job, just as she had. When not consulting, Eliana was content to stay home and raise her little were-jinni while teaching him how to control his temper tantrums, which could destroy a room. In addition, she was preparing the nursery for his little sister, another shape-shifter.
After all, girls were easier to raise than boys—right?
A word about the author…
After working in health care delivery for years, Sharon Buchbinder became an association executive, a health care researcher, and an academic in higher education.
She had it all—a terrific, supportive husband, an amazing son and a wonderful job. But that itch to write (some call it an obsession) kept beckoning her to “come on back” to writing fiction. Thanks to the kindness of family, friends, critique partners, and beta readers, she is now published in contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and romantic suspense.
When not attempting to make students, colleagues, and babies laugh, she can be found herding cats, walking dogs, fishing, dining with good friends, or writing.
You can find her at www.sharonbuchbinder.com
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Paranormal Romance Guild Winner
Best Mystery/Thriller, 2012
EPIC’s eBook Award Finalist
Romantic Suspense, 2014
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Other Sharon Buchbinder titles
available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Kiss of the Virgin Queen Page 23