One Wish Away: Djinn Empire Complete Series

by Ingrid Seymour

  Faris waited for an answer. If I could have given him one, I would’ve said, “duh!”

  “You think I don’t . . .” He laughed, an unexpected burst of joy that was disconcerting and infuriating.

  “This is funny to you? What are you? A sadist?”

  “You silly girl,” he said. “Can’t you see?” He wet his lips, pried my hands away from under crossed arms and squeezed my fingers. Warmth that didn’t seem natural spread through me. How dare he use magic?! I bit my tongue and refused to let him rattle me.

  “Don’t you know by now how I feel for you?” he pressed.

  I tried to hear his words above the wild thumping in my chest. Why was my heart doing that? I hated myself for this uncontrollable feeling that threatened to burst out even when I wanted to shove it deep down inside.

  “Don’t you know I chose to stay this way to protect you?” Faris said while cardiac havoc continued inside my chest. “The curse said ‘clearly requited.’ So it isn’t enough for me to feel it. I have to profess it. Saying it—even if it was a lie—would have been enough to save Cala. Don’t you see? If I say those words now, the curse will be fully broken, and I’ll be human again. Now you understand why I’m grinning like an idiot? Because all I have to do, to be completely free, is tell you, in three words, how I feel for you.

  “Dear Marielle,” he said, his voice utter tenderness. “Don’t you know that I’ve desired you ever since the day I first met you? That in my every waking hour hence I’ve dreamed it would be you who would free me, who would give me another chance at life? Do you remember how I tried to tell you so many times but was unable? You are the one. My First One, whom I have waited for all these centuries.”

  He leaned in, kissed my teary cheeks ever so slightly. The corner of his mouth brushed mine, sending a thousand rippling waves through my body. Oh, his damn magic!

  “Don’t you know I feel for you the way you feel for me?” As his lips moved, each word caressed my face with tantalizing softness, making me weak, yet igniting a feverish passion at the very center of my body.

  Unable to resist any longer, I gave in. Violently, like two crashing waves, our mouths found each other and fused into one. I forgot the past and the future. The present carried me away and nailed me in place, all at the same time. It filled me to the brim and took away any doubt I’d ever known. Lost in this closeness, I opened up, gave myself freely and took Faris’s kiss, touch, and love with an eagerness and trust I never thought possible again.

  His hands were in my hair, at the nape of me neck, down my back. Yet not everywhere as I wished them to be. Startled by my own thoughts, I pulled away, breathless.

  His eyes were clouded with passion, just as mine felt. I blinked and tried to recapture sanity, but failed. His lips quivered, begging for more. And I would comply. I would obey their call. Because to kiss him was to reach the sky. I didn’t care if he used his magic to make me feel this way.

  “There’s so much I want to tell you,” I said between rough kisses which suddenly turned tender and fleeting.

  “Me too,” he said, biting, probing, giving his all. “Me too.”

  34

  “Two more girls came forward when they heard about Jeremy. He’d used roofies on them, too. He’s screwed, Marielle. Big time,” Abby said.

  I switched the cell phone to my left ear, cupping a hand against it to block the breeze and squinting in the sun. My hair blew as we walked away from the Bugatti and pressed past a row of overgrown bushes.

  “Just what he deserves,” I said. “Listen, we’re out in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even know how I still have a cell signal.” I looked at Faris. He winked. Apparently, I had my very own cell phone tower. Man, he was so handy. “Let me call you back before I lose you,” I lied, wanting to concentrate on the moment.

  I stuffed my cell phone into my pocket, as we moved down a narrow dirt road. “Faris, what’s this all about?” He had driven past Vacherie, one hour west of New Orleans, and down a secluded country road.

  “Be patient, little grasshopper.” It seemed he learned a new pop culture reference every day, which was irritating and endearing.

  A bumblebee buzzed past my nose. I yelped and pressed against him, skipping like a silly girl. “A bee, a bee. Kill it!”

  He mock-shot the bee, making a pistol with his index finger and thumb.

  “Ala-kazam!” he said. The bee just buzzed a little louder. “Can’t really go around using magic on poor, unsuspecting victims.” He smiled that irresistible smile of his that I loved more and more every day. I pushed him and we both laughed. The bee found a large rose and got to work in the folds of its petals.

  “What about me? Can you hurt me?” I asked, picking up the thread of an earlier conversation.

  “Don’t go there again, Marielle. I won’t hurt you,” he said adamantly.

  “Don’t you want to know if you can?”

  “I really don’t.”

  “None of your masters ever asked you to hurt anyone?”

  He huffed. “What do you think?”

  “Well . . . did you?”

  “It never worked. It’s one of the rules, remember?”

  “But maybe that’s all it was, and now that you’re free, the restriction is gone. And maybe the rule only applied to granting wishes that would result in someone getting hurt.”

  “I don’t know. Djinn aren’t supposed to be able to hurt humans. That’s just the way it is. Akeelah obviously can’t.”

  “Yes, but Zet could, and with tremendous pleasure, by the way. Why is that?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Maybe the transformation process yields different results for different people. Maybe the magus did something different with him. Who knows?” He sighed. “I can’t believe it took me so long to piece it all together. When you told me crows and cats were stalking you, I knew something wasn’t right. And the hallucinations that drew blood . . . all Zet. I should have guessed right away. I wonder for how long he watched you and Arthur.”

  “Don’t feel guilty. It was all so complicated.” Faris thought that Zet might have caused Grandpa’s death in order to precipitate matters. The mere idea called up so much rage in me. Probably more than any healthy, normal human being should be capable of.

  “He never left any traces of magic. Either Akeelah covered for him, or he acquired animal form long before he came to you. Then he simply waited until the magic dissipated.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I wanted to go back to our original discussion. I thought back, trying to remember everything Akeelah had said. “Do you think Zet was able to hurt me because he isn’t a full Djinn? You think maybe the same rules that apply to Akeelah don’t apply to you and Zet? Don’t you want to find out?”

  “Maybe later, not now. Okay?”

  “I’m telling you, that is why Akeelah’s so interested in you two. Because you can hurt humans. Dross, like she called us.” I scoffed in disgust at Akeelah’s insulting term. “What I can’t figure out is what Zet was going to do for her. It’s not like he’d be able to teach her how to hurt people? Right?”

  “I don’t think so, but, at this point, anything is possible.” Faris shook his head, clearly frustrated. “Let’s not talk about this right now. I want this to be a special time. I have something to show you.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. These questions could wait, even if they kept nagging at me.

  We trampled weeds underfoot. A decrepit fence lined the path on the right. Behind it, thick magnolia trees blocked the view with their intertwined branches and dark green, leathery leaves. An open field littered with hay bales sprawled on the left, while a cool breeze made me appreciate this crazy weekend excursion.

  A large truck drove down the two-way country lane where Faris had pulled over onto the side of the road. The old thing rattled and the undercarriage squeaked as the driver waved in a friendly gesture. I smiled. It was all very quaint.

  “Why don’t we just drive up? Or you don’t want to scratch your prec
ious Bugatti Veyron?” I pronounced the French name perfectly and allowed a smug smile to creep in.

  Faris took my hand and kissed the top of it. “No, just trying to build up some anticipation.”

  “Be careful, I may be disappointed.”

  “Only if you lack . . . imagination.”

  I snuggled close to his chest and matched his step. He kissed my forehead.

  “Your dad doesn’t seem too happy,” he said.

  “Give him time. He’ll come around.”

  “I guess.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  “He’s just having a hard time believing the whole Djinn story, but he has no other choice. How else can he explain the fact that you still look the same? Like I said, don’t worry. Just give him time.”

  Faris and I had tried to explain things to Dad, but it hadn’t been easy. Dad had still been harboring a lot of resentment toward Faris, blaming him for trying to seduce Mom. It took a lot of convincing to even get him to listen to us but, in the end, he did. And afterward, he seemed somewhat at ease.

  Around him, Faris pretended to be human now, but Dad’s reservations were logical. Even I had a hard time understanding everything that had happened, and I’d been right in the middle of the ordeal. Of course Dad was confused. But, like me, he would eventually get it. Every day a new insight helped me get closer to solving the puzzle—like realizing that Maven didn’t know about our dates and pleasant kiss. Things would start clicking for Dad, too, one way or another. I was sure.

  A few steps ahead, the old fence and thick row of magnolias showed a gap. A hidden driveway.

  “Okay, close your eyes,” Faris said. “No peeking.”

  I did. “I won’t peek. I promise.”

  He led me, an arm around my waist. “Careful, there’s a little dip ahead. That’s it.”

  As my other senses strained to compensate for the lack of sight, I became aware of the soothing silence. The sweet smell of roses reached my nostrils, bringing memories of Grandma to mind. Roses always had that effect on me.

  “All right,” Faris said, coming to a stop. “You can open your eyes, now.”

  I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what I saw.

  “Hmm, wow,” was all I could manage.

  “What do you think? Do you like it?” he sounded anxious.

  “It’s . . . big.”

  “And . . .”

  I didn’t know what else to say. The house—if such a place could be called a house—that lay in front of me must have been gorgeous once, the “humble” adobe of some overweight Colonel Sanders-type plantation owner. Now, it was in disrepair, showing just a hint of its former grandeur in the towering columns and ornate trim.

  “It has potential,” I said, remembering what Faris said about using my imagination.

  “You can see it? Can’t you? How wonderful it could be?” he waited expectantly for my answer.

  “I . . . uh . . . yeah, I can see it.”

  “The magnolias are quite beautiful, and take a look over here . . .” He pulled me to the back of the house, where a huge live oak sprawled, bathing the weeds with its shade.

  “Oh. My. God. That’s the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen!”

  “I can get rid of the swing if you don’t like it.”

  “No, I love it.” I grinned and admired the long branches dipping like graceful swans, pecking the ground. They reached in all directions, immense and strong and ancient. The oak was alive and complex. Bright green moss covered its base and rust colored leaves rustled in the breeze underfoot as if whispering how they missed being part of such a beautiful creature.

  After what happened at the party, maybe I should have been afraid of swings and oaks, but seeing this magnificent tree, I felt nothing but awe.

  “A lovely place, don’t you think?” Faris said. “It reminds me of our first date at Oak Alley.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. That was not a date.”

  “Sure, whatever you say.” He smiled happily.

  “Sooo, why are we here?”

  “Well, I need your help with the place. The house is mine. I bought it. It’s all legal, the money, the lawyer, the deed. No magic involved.”

  “For real?!”

  He nodded.

  “But this place must cost a fortune,” I said, sitting on the swing, feeling perplexed.

  “I’ve got a fortune. Several actually.”

  “You do?” I had no idea which things he did through magic and which ones he didn’t. Lately, the line between what was real and what was magical had begun to blur for me.

  “Well, I’ve had plenty of time to prepare. I’ve built a considerable—how do they say?—stash over the centuries. And it’s all . . . uh . . . legit.”

  “Nice!” I said, amused by the innocent look on his face. He knew so much and yet sometimes it seemed he had lots more to learn. “Whatever the case, you should be sensible. No use in going broke.”

  “I couldn’t if I tried,” he said, sounding serious.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Wow.” The options seemed endless. “Wow,” I said again, bemused.

  “So?” He pointed at the house with his thumb. “Do you think you can help me make it beautiful?”

  “Couldn’t you just blink and wiggle your nose and make it beautiful in a second? Why do you need me?” I shook my head, confused.

  “I don’t intend to ever use magic here. I want it to be untraceable.”

  We exchanged a quick glance. A shiver ran across my back. He didn’t want Akeelah to know about this place. I had to agree with that.

  “Besides, where’s the fun in that?” he said.

  “Well, if you have unlimited amounts of legit,” I made air quotes, “money to spend repairing it, that certainly helps the imagination.” My mind was bursting with possibilities. “Yeah, it definitely has potential,” I said in a dreamy voice.

  “We can call it Live Oak,” he suggested.

  I nodded. “I like it.”

  Pure joy reflected on his face. He pulled me off the swing and wrapped his arms around my waist. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to mine. I braced myself for that overwhelming feeling that assaulted me every time he kissed me. The warmth coursing through tingling limbs, the sensation that I was floating, the swelling of my heart, and the happiness. Our lips met and, as usual, he took my breath away.

  Faris pulled away, eyes closed, lower lip caught between his teeth.

  “It’s not fair,” I managed when I recovered my wits.

  “What?”

  “You shouldn’t use magic when you kiss me.”

  A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  I smiled. “Well, you might spoil me. Later, nothing . . . non-magical will do the trick.”

  “You think I use magic when I kiss you?” he asked, bemused.

  “Oh, don’t even try to deny it.”

  Faris ran his hands down the length of my arms. “Marielle, I need you to love me as a man,” he said seriously, then a mischievous smile twisted his mouth. “Therefore, I promise you. There is no magic involved.”

  He kissed me again, and I just knew he must be lying.

  Two Hearts Asunder

  Ingrid Seymour

  PenDreams • BIRMINGHAM

  1

  Akeelah

  SHE WORE A WHITE DRESS to match her hair. From behind, sitting on a tall stool, she looked like a flawless pearl, beautiful and tempting. Those who walked past willed her to turn around, so they could see her face. But she remained still for hours, elbows resting lightly on the bar’s polished surface, as if time were a trifling thing and not the bane of man’s existence.

  Everyone thought she looked out of place in the garish casino. A few bold men ventured to her side, offered to buy her white wine, then left confused, near tears, after one short peek into her eyes. The bartender offered her but one drink, only to cower in the furthest corner afterward, even as hi
s best bottle of Scotch remained behind.

  Neon lights in all colors ran along the elaborate ceiling, guiding the way through a maze of gaming rooms lined with countless blackjack tables, slot machines, video poker screens, and roulette wheels. The plush carpet was wine red with swirling patterns that made everyone dizzy and forced the eye toward the dazzling lights and free drinks handed out by young waitresses in miniskirts. The noise of excited voices, computerized dings and clinks, and coins raining onto metal trays rose to rattling decibels. The sensory overload ensured the patrons’ precise amount of poor decision making.

  It worked as designed.

  Only Akeelah, the Djinn, was immune to it all.

  Her stool swiveled and so did all the heads in a twenty-foot radius, her presence too momentous to ignore. She stood and gave the onlookers a disdainful sneer. Only a brave few kept their eyes from falling to the floor, even when their souls shrank away like wounded dogs.

  The polished blackness of her skin, the luminous quality of her emerald eyes, the otherworldly beauty of her features were a conundrum, for how could one’s soul cringe at such magnificence?

  Gone were her pointed ears, her hooked nose, and protruding chin. She’d used her magic to mold features she, herself, thought weak and detestable, but which these repugnant masses found alluring. A straight nose, a delicate chin and rounded ears. All very unattractive, so sickeningly human. But that wasn’t the worst of it, not considering the fact that she’d had to shrivel down to their size. She’d shrunk her frame a full twelve inches, and it pained her. At six-feet tall, she was still taller than most, but this was the limit of what she was willing to endure.

  The Djinn seemed to glide above it all, the noise, the lights, the cigarette smoke. Her disdain was palpable, a pulsing thing as terrifying as a loaded weapon. As she passed by their tables, dealers adjusted their bow ties and dealt the wrong number of cards. Gamblers felt a cold chill down their spines, like the tip of an arctic knife unsheathed specifically for their discomfort and intimidation.