One Wish Away: Djinn Empire Complete Series

by Ingrid Seymour

  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.”

  “Then I’m glad I didn’t intervene sooner.”

  We shared a quick glance and a shy smile. I scratched my nose, wishing there was a way to get rid of the awkwardness. Only what could I do? I would send him away tonight, and we both knew it. Worse yet, I was about to condemn him forever, and he didn’t know that part. Bitterness and self-reproach may have been gone, but I was quickly replacing them with guilt.

  “So . . . you’re here?” A stupid thing to say.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” His smile seemed genuine enough.

  “You . . . really aren’t mad at me?” It was selfish, but I needed to know. Desperately.

  “No. I’m sorry if I made you think that. That wasn’t right. I want us to remember each other . . . fondly.” His dark eyes sparkled, and for a heart-wrenching instant, I thought it was due to tears. Then the moment passed.

  “Faris, I’m . . . sorry.” It felt so empty. How could I ever apologize for condemning him?

  He shook his head. “Don’t. I know it’s not your fault. I understand you have no choice. He threatened Maven, I venture. Maven’s a good guy. I think maybe you two . . .” He smiled wanly and looked away, unable to finish.

  “Maven and I don’t . . .” I stopped. What was I going to say? Nothing that would make things easier. “I’m glad you changed your mind, and I’m glad you don’t . . . hate me.” It sounded more like a question.

  “Of course, I don’t hate you,” he hurried to say.

  “There you are,” Abby said, rushing out the back door in our direction. “You’ve no idea what just happened.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the house. “You don’t mind if I borrow her for a second, do you?” she asked Faris without waiting for a reply.

  She yanked my arm. I lurched along, but my eyes remained locked with Faris’s. His lips parted as if to say something, but they pressed together again, shutting away all possibilities. I wanted to stay, to brush Abby off, but it would hurt more to prolong our goodbye. Because goodbye was the only thing we had left to say.

  Abby pulled me through a throng of dancing bodies. The smell of sweat and cigarette smoke reminded me why I’d gone outside in the first place. We continued down the hall and into the bathroom, where she locked the door behind her.

  “Kurt-showed-up-with-Regina.” Her words stumbled over each other. “When he saw me with Caleb he totally flipped out, Elle. Then he—”

  “Wait, slow down, Abby.” I sniffed her breath. “How much have you had to drink?”

  She narrowed her eyes and put her index finger and thumb up as if holding a penny.

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’d say more than just a little.”

  “Oh, Elle, he’s so jealous it’s not even funny. My plan worked!” She sounded too excited about something that—in my eyes—had no merit. It had to be the alcohol, amping up Abby’s silly nature.

  “So what exactly did he do?”

  She pulled down her fishnet hose and panties and plopped down on the toilet. While sitting, she did a little celebratory jig, hands pointing upward, tracing invisible circles.

  “Oh, Abby.” I turned around and faced the door. “That’s just soooo wrong.”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “He was all, ‘what are you doing here with that nerd?’” She deepened her voice to a mocking impersonation of her ex. “Wanted to know if it was our first date.” Abby giggled and pulled out a huge wad of toilet paper. I watched disapprovingly over my shoulder and realized there was more than one good reason to stay sober. “I told him it wasn’t, which of course is a lie. Let me tell you, he wasn’t happy about that,” she sang the last few words.

  Yippie, I wanted to quip back at her. The whole drama seemed so unimportant, so . . . mundane. Suddenly, I wished my worries were this trivial, having nothing to do with mystical beings and curses and death threats.

  “C’mon,” she said, standing up and pushing me out of the way, wobbling on her three-inch platform heels. “I need to find Caleb.”

  “Aren’t you gonna wash your hands?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She walked to the sink and passed a hand under running water. After turning off the faucet, she patted her wet hand on her black mini skirt.

  “I think Caleb’s gonna get lucky tonight.” She turned to the mirror, pushed up her boobs and pinched color into pale cheeks, then pranced into the hall.

  “Hey, listen!” I took hold of her arm before she managed to escape.

  Pressing her into the wall, I tried to make eye contact. Abby’s gaze danced from face to face, looking for Caleb.

  “Listen, I said.” My voice was forceful and had the desired effect. She looked me in the eye. A glint of sobriety materialized on her features. “Think about what you’re gonna do.” I tapped a finger against her temple. “Are you thinking?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “If you really like Caleb, you shouldn’t rush into anything and for the wrong reasons. If you don’t like him, then . . . should I say more?”

  Abby’s enthusiasm deflated like a balloon. “Gee, you should charge for your sobering effects.” We stared at each other, unsmiling, then burst out laughing and pushed each other playfully.

  “You’re totally right. As usual,” Abby said.

  Over my shoulder, her eyes settled on something or someone of interest.

  “Here we go again,” I mumbled.

  “What is she doing here?” Abby asked, perplexed.

  As I turned, I spotted Deborah Landry standing alone by the fireplace, head bobbing with the music not even keeping the beat.

  “It’s like Little Red Riding Hood at a wolves’ convention,” Abby said, then giggled.

  “You got that right,” I said, wondering if Deborah was here with Jeremy.

  “Oh no, you don’t think she’s here with Jeremy?” Abby echoed my thoughts.

  “I hope not.”

  Our fears were confirmed when Jeremy walked up to Deborah, a red plastic cup in hand.

  “Oh, crap!” Abby murmured.

  He offered the drink to Deborah with the same smile that had charmed me so many times but now made me want to strangle him. With a quick wave of the hand and a rueful smile, Deborah turned down the drink.

  Smart girl.

  Jeremy shrugged and took a sip from the cup.

  Abby spotted Caleb and lost interest in the situation. “Caleb!” A high pitch squeal that rose above the music and got his attention immediately. She started to rush over to him.

  I put a hand on her shoulder. “No stupid stunts, okay?”

  “Don’t worry, Elle. Go find Faris, and have some fun, will ya?”

  She slipped into the crowd and swayed her hips as she reached Caleb. They fell in step with the music, bumping and grinding against each other. Having fun—something I felt sure I’d never be able to do again.

  I retreated to a corner and watched Abby dance with Caleb, while Deborah squirmed and giggled every time Jeremy leaned in and spoke into her ear. I felt like I had to keep an eye on both girls, like a mother protecting her younglings.

  Faris came then, stood shoulder to shoulder with me, back against the wall. We didn’t look at each other or exchange any words, yet his presence stole my entire attention. My breath grew ragged. The heat of his arm along the length of my own drew me in. I
moved a fraction closer. Our hands brushed, a mere whisper of a touch. An electrifying shiver jolted my body with a wealth of sensations bigger than any I’d ever felt or thought possible. Overwhelmed by emotion, I seized his hand in mine, squeezed so hard I felt our interlaced fingers would meld together. He turned his head in my direction, seeking eye contact as my name escaped his lips in a yearning whisper.

  I turned slowly to look at him and let myself fall into his bottomless eyes, then imagined we were just a normal guy and girl at a lame party. We looked at each other with delicious abandon. Like never before, I allowed myself to examine his every feature. I wanted to remember, to preserve a perfect memory of him in my mind, even if every time I conjured it, my heart split in two.

  Faris inched closer, his lips moist and parted, his eyes beckoning and passionate and tender, all at once. He tilted his face and approached, tugging slightly on our intertwined hands, urging me closer. I felt the pull, stronger than the tides, impossible to fight. I gave in to it. He moved then, an almost imperceptible wisp of wind. In the blink of an eye, he stood in front of me, his shoulders parallel to mine, his hands tight around my waist, pressing me against the wall as if to never let me go. He whispered my name again, and the world around us grew dim and insignificant. Again, I felt like the center of a million galaxies, and I floated, lost in his gaze.

  He leaned in closer, his eyes begging—on behalf of his lips—for permission to kiss me. Half of me screamed “yes!” There could be nothing more vital than pressing my lips against his, than giving him, in one kiss, a taste of what I would never be able to give him.

  My love.

  My other half felt like I was being cruel, deceitful, vile. Faris was leaving his entire future in my hands, barely asking a question, resigned to whatever fate I decided. Our lips were millimeters away from melding, the way our hands had. My heart came to a stop.

  “I can’t,” I said in a quick exhale, tucking my chin against my chest, widening the distance between our hungry lips.

  Faris winced as if I’d stabbed him. He seized me in his arms and seemed to fall into me, weakened. Trapped between his hard body and the wall, I desperately wrapped my arms around him. He buried his face in the crook of my neck and let out a hot breath that seemed to travel down my back and chest, making my skin tighten in response.

  I gathered all my will. I couldn’t prolong this any longer. Here in his arms, I would forget about Zet, Maven, the entire world. I pressed my lips to his ear.

  “I wish . . .”

  Faris’s body tensed and pulled away. The distance he put between us felt like a crater, even if it was barely an inch.

  “I wish to change the words on the stone . . .” the beginning of my wish, one I would finish when I felt the time was right.

  My plan was in motion.

  I hoped Zet wasn’t around to hear this, hoped to give him little time to react once I uttered the rest. I couldn’t sense his evil, so maybe that hope wasn’t so unrealistic.

  Faris looked puzzled, surprised, hurt, and many other things I couldn’t bear to witness. Tearing myself away from him, I ran outside. Partygoers stared as I shoved my way through. I barely noticed. Fighting back tears, I reached the oak tree and was relieved to find the swing still empty. I sat, clutching the ropes on either side.

  Light from a set of windows bathed me in a warm glow. I looked up and could see—through wooden Venetian blinds—a large bed covered in a dark duvet. Brett’s bedroom, I guessed. I stared at my lap and wished Maven was here. It would be so much easier if I could see him. My watch read 11:55 P.M. Where had time gone? Why hadn’t I spent the last few hours with Faris?! But I knew the answer. There was no way I could do what I was about to do if I’d been with him all this time, not when only a few minutes had practically undone me. I took my hand to the acorn pendant and felt my resolve waver further.

  I looked at my watch again. 11:56 P.M. I opened my purse and pulled out the stone. With a shaking hand, I retrieved the small knife I’d packed. I held the blade in my right hand and laid the stone on top. I sighed in frustration. This plan was ridiculous. How could I ever fool a Djinn? Zet was probably laughing, watching me from above, as I sat here plotting my futile plan. I might as well be a senior citizen going against a Navy SEAL. But I had to try something, couldn’t betray Faris without fighting for him.

  I pressed my eyes tightly in what I suspected was a horrible grimace. The light from the windows became a faint orange glow behind my closed lids. I concentrated on it, tried to draw strength from the faint radiance. My voice broke in a reluctant whisper.

  “Change the words on the stone to . . .” I began with the rest of my wish.

  A shadow blotted the light. Orange morphed to almost black. My eyes sprang open. I expected Faris to be standing in front of me, ready to do my bidding, but I was alone. One of the Venetian blinds in the bedroom was now closed. I looked through the narrow slats of the other blinds. Someone lay on the bed. Craning my neck, I got a better view.

  Deborah?!

  The girl’s eyes were at half-mast, her expression dazed and dreamy looking.

  What the . . . ?

  A large hand came into view and pulled a cord. The other set of Venetian blinds snapped shut, but not before I noticed the silver thumb ring with its intertwined cobras.

  30

  My first instinct was to run and bang on the bedroom door, screaming rape. After only one step away from the tree, however, I stopped and looked at my watch.

  One minute left.

  I pulled at my hair. “God, what do I do?”

  The watch at my wrist began to tick. What?! It was an Eco-Drive and it’d never made a peep. Ever. It was so silent, it might as well be digital. I shook my wrist, but the sound grew louder, turning into an impossible-to-ignore, metallic tick tick tick.

  “There won’t be much hope for your friend if you don’t make up your mind, my dear.” Zet stepped out from behind the thick tree trunk. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing white, baggy pants with a wide green sash around his waist, the perfect Prince of Persia.

  “Poor, innocent Maven.” He said it the way a lion would refer to the zebra it has tagged for supper. “I see you have what I want. Good girl.” He put a hand out—eyes pitch black with hatred—and grinned, looking ready to pounce and deliver the fatal blow.

  I took a step back and clutched the stone with both hands, bringing it closer to my body and dropping my purse in the process. I made sure the knife remained hidden and looked over my left shoulder, searching for Faris. All I saw were partygoers milling about, acting as if I was invisible.

  “I’m here,” a voice said from my other side. I snapped back and found Faris standing to my right. His eyes held Zet’s, unwavering. “She’ll give you what you came for,” he said. “Keep your word if you still know the meaning of honor.”

  I tried to catch Faris’s gaze. Had he known all along that Zet wanted the stone? Did he hate me for agreeing to hand it over? He looked so calm and brave, unlike someone whose hell lay on the other side of a hopeless wish. Was he that pure and selfless and noble? Was he that perfect?

  Zet’s grin disappeared. “Hand it over,” he ordered, pretending to ignore his brother. “Your friend is safe at home watching a movie with his brother, but not for long.”

  I hesitated, wondering if Maven was worth Faris’s tremendous sacrifice.

  “Hand. It. Over.” Zet’s words pounded in my ears.

  “Do it, Marielle. He speaks the truth. Maven is safe,” Faris said, never looking at me.

  “Okay,” I murmured, then held the stone out toward Zet and, underneath it, tightened my grip on the knife with my other hand. Maybe not all was lost. Maybe my plan would work. Maybe.

  “Here,” I said.

  Zet’s eyes grew wide with pleasure, a kid ready for the ultimate birthday gift. He reached out, fingers twitching with anticipation. As he grabbed the stone, I took my chance and flicked the knife across his hand in a fast, slicing motion. He grimaced
and pulled away, taking the stone with him, switching it to his uninjured hand before any blood rubbed off on it.

  No! My teeth clenched in defeat.

  “You,” Zet bellowed, then jerked a hand in my direction.

  An invisible force slammed into my chest. I fell to my knees and clutched my torso, dropping the knife to the ground.

  “Marielle! Are you all right?” Faris knelt by my side, an arm around my shoulder. I looked up and managed a nod. It hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to the horrible loss.

  “What were you thinking?” Zet demanded. “Are you so deluded to think a knife can hurt me? Blood is a mere trace of humanity left in us. It means nothing.” He lifted his crimson-stained hand. It shimmered gold and silver for a second, erasing all traces of blood. “Fool.”

  Faris helped me to my feet.

  Zet looked at us, sizing the situation. “You know, it doesn’t matter to me whether you make your last wish or not. I can wait for sixty, seventy years for your inevitable death, Marielle. I have this now.” He held the stone up. “My brother’s current freedom is a mere whisper in the roaring space of time. But,” he added mockingly, “he wants me to keep my word. That means poor Maven will receive an unexpected visit unless you make a wish.”

  He looked triumphant, then expectant, like a junkie waiting for his next hit, eager and twitchy with the desire to do more evil. He could have killed me then and forced Faris back into the stone, but he wanted to mock us, wanted to see us hurt.

  “Tick-tock,” he said, making the stone dance from side to side.

  Tick, right. Tock, left.

  Then his sneer disappeared and he pressed the stone to his bare chest, holding it there until his skin literally swallowed it whole. One second it was there, the next it had vanished. My heart stopped. The tablet couldn’t be gone. It was an illusion. An illusion! I refused to believe there was no more hope.

  “You soulless bastard,” I spat.

  A hand fell on my shoulder. “It’s all right,” Faris said. “I’m ready.”