One Wish Away: Djinn Empire Complete Series

by Ingrid Seymour

  “I have,” Maven sounded serious, no skepticism riding in his tone this time. “And I’ve decided not to believe in her. She sounds like the boogeyman, and I’d rather keep that a fantasy.”

  26

  Faris

  Akeelah: vengeful, savage, cruel.

  The most evil creature I’ve encountered in my twenty-five hundred years of existence.

  What have I done?

  What have I delivered into her evil hands to keep one human girl from harm?

  My hands trembled with impotence at the sight of her twisted pleasure.

  What have I done?

  The question rang in my ears like a bell predicting doom.

  Akeelah stood before me, her grotesque face twisted in rapture as she held the bottle to the heavens, in either offering or challenge to the Creator. Which? I couldn’t tell.

  She cackled, throat working up and down. “Beauty, beauty itself!”

  I prayed silently for her failure, for this first Djinn she’d created, and any subsequent one, to be incapable of hurting anyone.

  Abruptly, her laughter stopped. “Let us waste no more time.” She rubbed the side of the bottle, stroking it in small circles, her ruby-colored nails twinkling against the blue glass.

  Please, please, please, I prayed more vehemently, wishing my magic were strong enough to defeat hers. But I was weak and selfish, and there was nothing I could do. So I watched, guilt pinning me to the spot, punishing me with the ghastly spectacle, while all I could do was appeal to an indifferent Creator who allowed these horrors to unfold.

  As Akeelah rubbed one last, lazy circle against the glass, smoke rose into the air and formed a black cloud overhead. It hung there for an instant, then curled into a spiral and descended to the floor. When it touched the cold concrete, the haze twitched and shifted, slowly taking the shape of a human body. For a few seconds, the figure stood there, a see-through, rippling mist that gradually solidified into an exact copy of the man who still lay dead on the metal table.

  My heart, my whole essence, shrank at the scene. My own imprisonment had been wretched, but what I had done to this man was unpardonable. He was forever bound to Akeelah.

  The newborn Djinn looked around, disoriented, reminding me of how it had felt to know myself dead and not dead, robbed of my every physical attachment to this world, overwhelmed by the need to be solid again, a need so great that it instinctively drove me to collect particles from the air to fashion a body that was nothing but a husk.

  Akeelah laughed again, startling her new pet. “Just as I promised you, Jabar,” she said.

  Jabar blinked, looking uncertain of his choice. Slowly, he looked back at his inert body and staggered backward.

  “Just an empty vessel,” Akeelah said, her voice ringing with a sweet, comforting tone that made me despise her even more. “Don’t fret about it. You’re more now, my pet.” She approached the Eritrean and put a hand on his shoulder. “You are a Djinn.”

  Jabar looked up at Akeelah and nodded, slowly at first, then vigorously, as the truth of what he’d become registered in his confused mind.

  “We did it. Woohoo!” Andy exclaimed, clapping excitedly in his deranged fashion. Akeelah’s emerald eyes flicked toward him, flashing with distaste.

  Andy stopped, his hands freezing in midair. His stupid grin froze on his face. “W-we did it, right?”

  Akeelah turned to her brand new pet and smiled. “It is time you express your gratitude, my dear Jabar. After you do so, you’ll have the honor of escorting your brothers to a new fate, one where they will walk alongside us to claim what is ours and you will be revered as the first one, my top general, my right hand.”

  Jabar nodded several times, his eyes alight with the eagerness to please, to be accepted and approved of by the evil creature he wrongly perceived as a goddess.

  “Kill him,” Akeelah ordered, stabbing a finger in Andy’s direction, not even turning to look at her once-indispensable human pet.

  “W-what? Why?” Andy took a step backward, knocking a tray full of instruments from the medical cart. They fell to the floor, tinkling like rain on a tin roof.

  Andy should have anticipated this. He was, after all, the only available victim.

  No one tangles with evil and manages to part unscathed.

  Jabar tore his devoted eyes from Akeelah and aimed them at his target.

  Andy stammered, “But I—I helped you. You can’t repay me like this. Dark Lady, please.”

  Akeelah stood impassive and said nothing. Despairing, Andy turned his pleading gaze on Jabar, but quickly realized he’d find no sympathy there either. Andy had killed him, after all. The events were poetic in their justice.

  Grasping at straws, Andy turned to me. “Help me!”

  Didn’t he know it was no use? Akeelah could easily block any of my attempts to help him. There was nothing I could do. And what if there was? Would I help him then? Embarrassment washed over me as I realized the answer was “no.” There was no compassion for Andy in my heart. Not after all the people he’d killed on the riverboat, not after watching him torture the Eritreans with such unhinged pleasure.

  Ready to do his master’s bidding, Jabar advanced toward Andy. The little man twirled and ran toward the exit, his skinny, tattooed arms pumping clumsily. He managed a few steps before tripping over his own two feet and landing face down. His feet thrashed, slipping and sliding, as he tried to stand. Just as he got to his feet, Akeelah materialized in front of him with a loud pop.

  Scrambling to his knees, he begged, “Don’t kill me, please. I can still help you. I’ll do whatever you ask me to do.” His eyes darted back and forth between Akeelah and Jabar.

  She ignored him and looked at Jabar instead, her eyes insistent and eager to witness the results of her experiment. He nodded and squared his shoulders, appearing just as eager.

  Slowly, Jabar directed his attention to a wooden crate with the word “fragile” written on it. He stared at it for a moment, face twisted in concentration. With a creak the large box lifted from the floor and began to rise. Jabar’s eyes widened and a smile spread over his lips.

  Yes, Jabar, it only takes an instant for thoughts to morph into magic.

  I remembered the day I discovered that. The ease of it all, the way my first wish, in the blink of an eye, turned into reality, the exhilarating sense of power that coursed through my essence. A damn thing, especially when I found myself at the beck and call of an evil master.

  Gliding smoothly, the crate traveled through the air and stopped right above its intended target.

  “No, please, no!” Andy stared at the crate, arms held protectively over his head.

  “Drop it,” Akeelah ordered with anticipation.

  Andy trembled and pleaded, a bug waiting to be crushed by a sadistic child. The crate hovered in the air and began to rattle. Jabar bared his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He shook his head. Sweat broke out over his forehead, a telltale sign that he was more human than Djinn.

  I took a step forward, expectant. Could it be that my prayers had been answered?

  “Drop it!” Akeelah repeated between clenched teeth.

  But the crate didn’t fall. It just hung in the air, its wooden walls groaning, it contents rattling.

  Eyes glowing red with fury, Akeelah let out a high pitch, animal-like scream. Her body blurred, losing its outline, and anything that was remotely human in her appearance disappeared.

  Andy whimpered and, like a frightened cockroach, scuttled out of the way and hid between two metal containers.

  The suspended crate flew across the warehouse, crashed against a far wall and fell to pieces, scattering Styrofoam peanuts all over and spilling its shrink-wrapped contents onto the floor in a succession of shattering crashes.

  “You useless piece of Dross,” Akeelah screamed in Jabar’s face. The Eritrean cowered, instinctively covering his face as if expecting a blow. With a flick of her wrist, Akeelah called the blue bottle back to her hand and said,
“Be gone!”

  In a snap, Jabar turned into smoke and was suctioned back into his prison. I looked away, feeling his quick disappearance like a knife in my gut. How many times had I shared the same fate, not knowing if I’d ever be free again? I didn’t wish that endless agony on anybody—not when the mere memories brought me pain.

  Suddenly, my brother’s image rose in my mind, but I tried to push it away, reminding myself that Zet’s freedom laid in his own hands. If he suffered, it was his own doing, no one else’s. All he had to do was forgive me for a wrong I had never intended. I never had the luxury of a choice, and neither did Jabar. Even so, my guilt grew, turning into an ugly beast with many accusing fingers and reproachful eyes. Ultimately, it was my fault that he was confined, probably forever.

  “You lied.” Akeelah whirled, her glowing eyes zeroing in on me. “You didn’t tell me everything. What did you leave out?”

  “You know well I didn’t lie,” I said. “You made a Djinn, didn’t you? I’ve told you all I know. Now you must tell me where you’re keeping Marielle.”

  “You left something out, some crucial detail,” she accused, enraged. “If you think I’ll tell you where your pet is, you are mistaken. She will remain my prisoner until you tell me what it takes to make a Djinn like Zet.”

  “I didn’t omit any details, Akeelah. I don’t know why I’m different from my brother, why he can hurt humans and I can’t. You have to believe me.”

  Maybe there was something I had forgotten through the millennia. Maybe the curse used on Zet had been different than the one used on me. Maybe the process yielded different results on different people. Maybe which type of conjured demon mattered. Maybe all of these things combined made a difference. I had no idea. For all I knew, it was like a genetic experiment, like breeding different specimens of an animal to enhance a specific trait. It was anyone’s guess.

  I lowered my head, keeping these deliberations to myself, trying to delay the inevitable. Because Akeelah would reach the same conclusion sooner or later, and, once she did, a killing and demon-summoning frenzy would begin. She wouldn’t rest until the experiment went the way she wanted.

  “You and your filthy pet,” Akeelah growled with a ferocity that felt like a gust of wind on my skin, “took Zet away from me and left me only you, a useless waste of essence.”

  I kept quiet, afraid of what she might do next, of the inevitable atrocity of more tortured and imprisoned souls, all to satisfy her misguided hatred.

  She whirled and screamed Andy’s name. She found him crouching in the shadows, looking at his Dark Lady with inscrutable, bloodshot eyes.

  “Get another one of those bastards. We will try again. We will try until we get what I’m looking for. Or until all of them end up as glass souvenirs.”

  I ground my teeth. It’d been ridiculous to think I could delay this, to cling to hope where there was none. Akeelah would not stop until she succeeded, or until Andy killed every single human at her disposal.

  Strangely calm, Akeelah’s pet stood and stepped out of the shadows. The fear his face had displayed earlier was gone from his expression and was replaced by an unwavering leer.

  “No,” he said. “Get’im yourself.”

  Akeelah stared dumbly at Andy and took a moment to recover. “You will do as I say or—”

  “Or what?” he asked, mockery propelling his words. “You’ll squash me with a shipping crate? Go ahead and try, you double-crossing bitch.”

  Akeelah moved toward him, her steps as calculated as the words that came out of her mouth. “I may not be able to do you harm directly, but Frank is. Or perhaps you’d like to go back to prison?”

  Andy bared his yellowed, crooked teeth. “And how are those options any worse than being thrown like a bone for one of your spawns to chew on?”

  “That was a rash mistake,” Akeelah said sweetly. “It won’t happen again.”

  A dry laugh from Andy, then a question. “You think I’m stupid? Well, I ain’t. I know your word’s as good as a ripped up poncho in hurricane season. You’ve been telling this one,” he pointed at me, “nothin’ but lies, and he’s too afraid for the girl to take a chance. Let me tell ya something. There’s a little thing many of us humans stick by. We don’t screw with people we work with unless you want them to work you over. You betrayed me, after all I’ve done for you. Well, get a load of this, you ugly bitch, now it’s my turn.”

  Andy turned in my direction and looked me straight in the eye. “We ain’t got your girl. In fact, we got no idea where she’s at. She disappeared right from under our noses.”

  He put both hands up and wiggled his fingers. “She ran. Puff. Gone!”

  27

  Marielle

  Maven and I met up outside the terminal entrance. After arriving to the Barcelona-El Prat Airport, we had split up, each with a different task to accomplish. The place was huge, and it would have taken forever to do it all had we stayed together.

  “Got the car?” Maven asked.

  I jingled the keys. “You?”

  He fanned himself with a stack of colorful Euro bills. “Got ripped off, too. I can’t believe the exchange rate.” He gave me the money and I stuffed it in my backpack.

  “Oh, I can,” I said. “You should see the charge on that rental. I feel better now that we have some cash, though. I keep stressing about the credit cards being denied.” I looked around. “I hope Abby hurries up.”

  We stood awkwardly. People bustled around us, suitcases in tow, rattling Spanish at a staggering rate. Maven shifted his weight from one foot to another and adjusted his backpack. A large metal sculpture that looked like a cage held my attention for a moment. Anything to avoid eye contact.

  “Where is she?” Maven asked, eyes scanning over the crowd. We had landed almost an hour ago, agreeing to meet here as soon as we could. Abby’s task was to get lunch—or dinner, whichever it was. We were all starving. The airplane food had been bad, and the few snacks we’d bought hadn’t been enough.

  I cleared my throat, deciding to take the bull by the horns. Abby was right. We needed to clear the air. “Have you thought that maybe it was . . . your male pride talking?”

  For a moment, Maven looked confused, then he slipped both thumbs under his backpack’s straps, gripped them hard and stared at his shoes. “You heard that, huh?”

  I nodded.

  “Eavesdropping is rude, you know?” He didn’t look happy, but there was a hint of teasing in his voice.

  For things to be okay between us, we had to vent this out. Maybe all Maven needed was a respectable out.

  I pressed on. “I’m not a prize to be won.” I made sure not to sound cocky, but matter-of-fact. “I chose Faris. Men are so competitive about everything, even about the wrong things.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes, as if reflecting to myself. “Then they let pride get in the way.”

  “Yeah, there’s that.” He finally looked at me, his blue eyes steady and agreeable. He was conceding, accepting my excuse of male pride as his own. Whether it was true or not, I didn’t care and didn’t want to know. What I cared about was the easy acceptance in his gaze, and the way his hands let go of the shoulder straps and dropped to his side, relaxed. We smiled at each other. I preferred Maven thinking he’d lost a competition, not my love.

  Abby’s voice startled us back into the moment. “You’d think McDonald’s and Starbucks were the only games in the whole airport.” Her hands were loaded with two paper bags and a cardboard tray with three tall cups of steaming coffee. Maven took the tray, and I one of the bags.

  I peered inside. “Not to sound ungrateful, but burgers and fries? We may as well be back home. They didn’t have anything local?”

  Abby frowned. “Well, McDonald’s did have some regional thingy, some sort of Mediterranean salad with tuna. Weird!”

  “Tuna?”

  “Yeah, I guess that would be weird,” I admitted. “What about some of the local restaurants? Did you check them out?”

  “No.”
Abby sounded offended. “I’m not taking a risk. Don’t want to inadvertently end up eating cat or something.”

  “They don’t eat cats in Spain,” I explained.

  “You sure about that?” Abby snatched one of the coffees from Maven, unbalancing the tray. Only his fast reflexes prevented the other cups from crashing to the ground.

  “I’d rather be safe than sorry,” she added after a swig of her coffee.

  I began to walk. We needed to be on our way. Abby and Maven followed.

  “All I know,” I said, “is that I don’t like to be one of those provincial Americans who don’t attempt to experience the other culture when they travel.”

  “Ooh, provincial, huh?” Abby elbowed Maven. “It looks like we’re not cosmopolitan enough for her. I guess we’re gonna have to eat some cat. What say you, Maven?”

  He made a face. “No cat for me, thank you. I’d rather be called a hick.”

  I mimed a claw, made a scratching motion and hissed at them. They laughed and I felt the tension that had been between us dissipate. I smiled with relief.

  We found our rental car in the parking lot and stood in front of it.

  “Aw, how cute.” Abby said.

  “They call this a car? It’s more like a matchbox.” Maven didn’t look impressed. “What is it?”

  I read the tag on the key. “A Ford Ka.”

  “A Ford? Didn’t know they made death traps,” Maven said, looking worried.

  “I like it,” Abby put in. “This is what we all need to drive. It’s environmentally sound.”

  The car was a lemon-yellow, two-door vehicle slightly larger than a Smart car. It was decisively cute, but it didn’t look very safe.