One Wish Away: Djinn Empire Complete Series

by Ingrid Seymour

  “All right, I’ll look around. May as well start right here.” The man moved around the desk, and, finally, I saw his face. He was lean with black hair and white, white skin. His eyes were cool, his expression deliberate. He searched the desk, prodded the bookcases—coming close, but missing the camera—and in the end the pictures on the wall.

  “Bingo,” he said when he got to the Ansel Adams photograph. “You can open this, right?” He hadn’t quite finished his question when the safe, which I had closed, gave a metallic click.

  The man laughed with inordinate delight and opened the small door.

  “Bah, there’s nothing here.” He slammed the door shut. “I’ll search the rest of the house.”

  Akeelah stayed put, approached the desk and came into full view on the security monitor. Her emerald eyes glowed in the semi-darkness, and what little light the lamp offered reflected off her black skin. She lay a hand on the computer. My hands trembled with rage. Slowly, I released my clenched fists and took a deep breath. Anger would not do. I had to stay a step ahead of the monster if I was to foil her machinations.

  For several minutes, she stood still next to the desk while her pet searched the house.

  I waited to feel a surge of magic. I waited and waited, but it didn’t come. I expected her to use her power to search the house and the computer, but it seemed she was relying on this man, for the moment. She was perhaps testing his abilities, getting to know him.

  The man returned after some time. “All I found was this note.” He spread the crumpled piece of paper on the desk.

  Akeelah swiveled her head to look at it, a moving statue. “What does it say?”

  The note was useless. It gave no specifics. Nothing to pinpoint Marielle’s location. The answer had to be in the computer. I could have found it in an instant. Would it be that easy for them? Would they suspect the use of aliases and fake identities?

  “It doesn’t say much,” the man said. “It’s signed ‘Marielle.’ That’s the girl’s name, right?”

  “It is.”

  “She’s all syrupy, asking her father to forgive her for leaving. Says she’s going to find a way to help Faris.”

  Akeelah gave a dry cackle. “Young humans can be so stupid.”

  The thug didn’t seem amused by the comment. His eyes narrowed, his gaze cool and calm, so unlike Andy’s.

  Silence filled every crevice for a few beats.

  “So . . . Vic, have you any other ideas of where to look?” Akeelah sounded irritated.

  “Hey, I already told you, I’m not the one who can work magic here,” Vic said.

  Akeelah’s eyes gave a red twinkle of rage, but she quickly got it under control. Vic was not afraid of her. It seemed he knew she couldn’t harm him.

  “She must be using a fake name and using cash to pay for stuff,” he added. “Or we would have found her by now.”

  Of course, they’d already tried to track her using her real name. But in this, I was ahead of them. I shook myself, fearing Akeelah’s next step. Marielle had her father and friends. They were the next logical venues for information.

  “Hmm.” Vic paced around the desk, one of his fingers tracing the edge. “Given the note, I doubt the father knows her whereabouts. How about friends? Kids are always texting each other.”

  “Yes, cell phones,” Akeelah said as if she’d never heard of them. Apparently, she wasn’t up to date in twenty-first century technology. She’d probably stayed out of the affairs of men for some time, a practice she ought to have continued.

  Akeelah closed her eyes for a moment. I felt her magic flare for the first time and held my breath.

  She opened her eyes. “No phone activity under her accounts.”

  I exhaled.

  “Do we know who her friends are?”

  “Not yet. But we will.” Akeelah moved closer to the computer and placed a hand on top of it. The action was unnecessary and likely for Vic’s benefit.

  Miserable creature! I wanted to scream and release the raw power of my anger. Instead, I bit my tongue and forced myself to pay attention.

  A step ahead. I needed to be a step ahead.

  In the lapse of short seconds, Akeelah came up with Abby and Maven’s names.

  How was that possible? When I gave Marielle the rose after the riverboat explosion, I had all but erased Marielle’s internet presence. Social media accounts, email accounts, everything I found that linked her to anyone. But people left so many trails behind these days. What had I missed?!

  “There isn’t much on the girl. Clever Faris must be responsible for that,” Akeelah said. “But I found an old high school roll, and one of her classmates, Abby White, has recently left the country.”

  Vic nodded. “A coincidence, maybe. You’re thinking they’re together?”

  Akeelah lay a hand on the computer again. A smile stretched her black lips before her eyes popped open. “Spain. Her friend has traveled to Spain in the company of Sol Palomo and Maven Mora. Hmm, Maven,” she repeated, “I remember Zet mentioning that name?

  “Zet? Who is that?”

  “Never mind that. It is Sol Palomo we should be worried about.”

  “All right.” Vic rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go find her.”

  “We will, but before we go, I want to make sure Frank convinced Andy to come back. Once that most important matter is settled, I’ll be ready for a bit of vengeance. No one toys with me and gets away with it.”

  The sting of Akeelah’s magic reached me and played on my skin like an effervescent wind. A second later, my uninvited guests disappeared from the security screen and the room went still, all movement snuffed by the monster’s desire to be elsewhere.

  In a rush, I exited the panic room and hurried into the study. I trembled, shaken by a sickness so physical that I felt almost entirely human. What to do? My eyes darted to and fro, as if I would find an answer in the bookshelves or dark corners of the room.

  Where had Akeelah gone? Back to the warehouse? That seemed a logical choice, since she had mentioned Andy. I fought the urge to follow her magic. If I did, she would sense my powers right away and know I was after her. But what other alternative did I have? Regular human means would never be enough.

  Marielle.

  I wanted to go to her, find out her whereabouts, and rush directly to her side in a split second. But I couldn’t. All that would accomplish was to usher danger straight to her.

  I focused on a spot on the floor, the very place where Akeelah had stood just moments before. I moved closer, sensed the whirling and suctioning feeling of her portal as it began to close. The tug was slight and eerie, something to make the hairs on the back of one’s necks stand on end.

  I lifted a hand to the slash in the soft fabric that separates the realms. My fingers hovered in midair, sensing the energy. My skin tingled with the promise of magic, of possibility. This felt different from the portals I created. It had her signature, like a scent or a color that was Akeelah’s own. It repulsed me.

  If I was to protect Marielle, I had to use magic. There was no way around it, no other choice. I had to follow Akeelah, so that if she found Marielle, I would be there to protect her. My only alternative was to create my own portal and . . .

  My thoughts took an unexpected turn.

  An entrance into The Blink was already here. What if I could use it? What if I could slip through it with a small surge of magic? A bit of energy that could be easily overlooked.

  Tentatively, I thought of crossing to the other realm through this small slit, forming the idea as a mere whim, a “what if.” My magic stirred, a tiny breath compared to the whirlwind a proper wish could incite. It mingled with Akeelah’s full fledged power. Would she notice? Would she sense my trail riding underneath her own? I had no idea, but I had to try.

  At first, nothing happened. I just stood there, waiting for the lesser magic to transport me. But my whim was just that, nothing powerful enough to make anything a reality. Carefully, I transformed my w
him into an ordinary caprice, like a child bent on another cookie when she’s already eaten her fill. Nothing happened for a few breaths, then my physical form fell apart, my essence lifted and I gently slipped toward the portal.

  I passed into The Blink and on that same common caprice rode Akeelah’s trace, like a particle of dust traveling on a ray of sunshine. Moments ticked by, and if Akeelah sensed my slight use of magic, there was no indication of it. I moved across space, and—before long—I was exiting the portal through a narrowing, tattered slit in the iridescent veil between worlds.

  As a plume of smoke, I descended to the floor. There, I waited, sampling the air, trying to sense Akeelah’s malice nearby. I didn’t. On a half-whim, I allowed my body to take shape. Without the full use of my power, it was a slow process, like thick honey sliding down a glass bottle. After what felt like one of the many interminable centuries I’d spent trapped inside the stone tablet, my human body finally materialized in a crouch.

  Grateful for the concealing darkness, I looked around. I was, indeed, back at the warehouse, right by the entrance. I slunk behind a line of crates, feeling reassured by their large shadows. Ahead, there were voices. I padded forward. At the last crate in the row, I pressed my back against its wide wooded slats and peered around.

  Akeelah, Vic and—to my surprise—Andy stood around the metal table. They had wasted no time and already had a new victim at their disposal. I could see only his legs and bare, calloused feet.

  Akeelah threw her arms up in the air and began the conjuration. Garbed in golden breast plates and a short, studded-leather skirt fit for a warrior princess, she moved on bare feet, bells tinkling at her ankles. I puzzled at how, in all her immorality, her essence still had room for vanity.

  Vic and Andy stepped away from the table. The shape of a pale, moribund man with a ragged gash across his neck came into view. Like an infection, my guilt multiplied.

  Andy stared, a sparkle in his eye, Akeelah’s willingness to kill him seemingly forgotten. What lies and offers had lured him back, I could only imagine. Or perhaps, it hadn’t taken much once his anger dissipated. The man’s essence seemed to crave this particular brand of horror, after all.

  For his part, Vic watched, wide-eyed and unblinking, his calculating gaze far scarier than Andy’s unhinged one, wandering eye withstanding. He put me in mind of a predator, one endowed with reason, far more dangerous than any instinct-driven beast. And it was this animal Akeelah intended to let loose on Marielle. I tasted blood in my mouth, a memory of death and carnage from the battlefields of my past.

  The ground split with a cracking sound, ushering forth its cloud of sulfur-infused smoke. When it dissipated, it left in its wake a hulking mass of tissue and pus. Like a giant, deformed caterpillar, the hideous demon writhed and slammed its upper half down on the concrete floor as it shrieked a piercing, unearthly sound.

  This was not the same demon as before. I could tell—not by its remarkably different semblance, but by the increased magical output emanating from Akeelah. Her essence felt strained, stretched taut, not to a breaking point, but dangerously close.

  Another spell, and the demon dissolved into a stream of light. It cut through the air like a comet and plunged into the bloody slash at the expiring Eritrean’s neck. Like a dancer in an orchestrated pattern, the demon performed its task in the exact manner its predecessor had. The only difference was the added expediency gained by Akeelah’s practice. When it was all over, the crack on the floor zipped close and swallowed its offspring back into its depths.

  With a maniacal determination and devoid of the delight of her first attempt, Akeelah released her new Djinn spawn from the bottle. Disoriented, he staggered and took a moment to regain firm footing.

  “Andy,” Akeelah beckoned in an overly sweet tone.

  Andy stepped up to the Eritrean, who was looking at his hands—turning them over and over—as if they’d just sprung out. He looked up at Andy, then at his own inert body on the table.

  “Put your arm out, Andy,” Akeelah instructed, adding a belated “please” to her request.

  Hesitantly, he extended his left arm and turned it over, exposing the soft, tattoo-free skin.

  Akeelah spoke in Arabic and ordered the perplexed Djinn to inflict a small scrape on Andy’s forearm. A weighty moment passed as the Eritrean stared intently at Andy’s arm, scrunching his eyebrows in concentration.

  Nothing happened.

  With a snarl, Akeelah sent the poor devil back into the bottle and tossed it over her shoulder, discarding it as if its contents were not a sentient being condemned to eons of intense suffering, but a mere mayfly due to die in the next hour.

  “Another failure,” she growled, her eyes starting to glow red with ire.

  Vic stepped forward. “Perhaps you should . . . experiment more. Maybe do some research. Mix things up to see if you get the results you want. I can help,” he offered.

  The red glow in Akeelah’s eyes dimmed and slowly returned to emerald.

  “Fine,” she said. “Andy, have the next man ready. We have one small thing to take care of. We’ll come back shortly.”

  Obedient, Andy turned sharply toward the table and grabbed a black body bag. Suddenly, his gaze flashed to one side and caught sight of me. I froze, cursing my name. Andy squinted at me, hands still moving on their task, unzipping the bag. Surprising me, he gave me a twisted grin and, surreptitiously pressed his lips together, miming a zipping motion.

  Akeelah snapped to attention, nostrils flaring as if smelling the air. Avoiding any brusque movements, I pulled back, sure she had sensed me. I went rigid, thoughts racing.

  Would Andy betray my presence?

  “Make haste, Andy,” Akeelah said. “We will be back in no time.” Silence and the unmistakable tingle of magic followed.

  Andy didn’t give me away!

  I looked around the crate. Akeelah and Vic were gone, while Andy worked, whistling and acting as if I wasn’t there at all.

  What game was he playing?

  35

  Marielle

  “Those tapas were delicious,” Abby said, rubbing her stomach.

  Doctor Gallardo’s massive figure paced in front of a large bookcase in his study, hands behind his back, eyes on the floor. He’d been doing that for the last ten minutes while Abby went on about the tapas, discussing her favorite ones with Maven.

  “Why don’t you guys take a walk,” I suggested, hoping it might help Gallardo focus.

  Maven’s eyes shifted distrustfully to the doctor. He shook his head ever so slightly. It didn’t seem he would ever get over his first impression of the man. I couldn’t say I blamed him. I didn’t feel too at ease either. Who goes around pointing rifles at teenagers just for riding their sheep?

  “Yeah, let’s go,” Abby said.

  “We can’t leave Marielle here alone,” he whispered, taking Abby by the elbow and shifting his eyes toward the pacing older man.

  A look of jealousy flashed across Abby’s eyes. Clearly she wasn’t over her crush on Maven, no matter how indifferent she tried to act.

  To my surprise, Maven’s voice suddenly acquired a sweet tone. “I don’t want you to go out there by yourself either. It’s getting dark. Stay here, please.”

  I watched out of the corner of my eye as Abby’s frown dissipated and an almost imperceptible smile tweaked her lips. Her eyes remained locked to Maven’s until he cleared his throat and let go of her elbow. He self-consciously shifted from foot to foot and sat back down.

  Restless, I shifted in my seat. I felt a little woozy from the wine the doctor’s cook had served us without even asking. I had only taken a few swigs, but it’d made me feel flush and slightly dizzy all the same. Surely, the lady could tell we were still minors and should have offered us water. I was starting to get the sense that the “sanctity” of youth in America wasn’t the same everywhere. This was definitely one of those cultural differences that made traveling to other countries so fascinating.

  I had
n’t visited too many different countries—I pushed away the memories of my travels with Faris—but I definitely understood what people meant by “expanding your horizons.” Even during this brief visit here, I could feel my impressions of the world changing, morphing into something more real. The world was a vast place full of opposites, contradictions, contrasts. To live in only one place gave this deceptive impression of sameness, a near-sighted existence in need of a good dose of truth.

  I couldn’t understand how anyone could be content living with such a limited sight. Like Abby sometimes, buying a McDonald’s meal instead of taking a chance on something different. I glanced over at her as she slouched on the loveseat, picking at her nail polish again. She smiled at me and a mushy fondness filled my chest. I was glad she was here. She was who she was, and I wouldn’t change her for anything.

  She looked tired with circles under her heavily-mascaraed lashes. I couldn’t blame her. The long flight and drive had taken it out of us. If we were tired now, when jet lag hit, it would render us useless. Gallardo needed to hurry, so we could drive back to Besalú to find a hotel, else we would collapse right here on his layered Persian rugs. Something I highly doubted he would appreciate.

  I cleared my throat. I had been patient enough, had waited for him to ponder my entire story and examine it from every angle. If he’d judged it false, more pondering wouldn’t change his mind at this point.

  “So . . . can you help us? Would you like to see the stone?” I asked.

  Gallardo’s gaze jerked upward, looking as if he’d just come out of a trance. He blinked several times and regarded us as if we’d sprung out of his vivid daydreams.

  “I apologize,” he said. “I was lost in thought, in your story, and the possibility that it’s all true, that I haven’t been wrong all along.” As he said this, his expression changed, and I thought he looked . . . vindicated. For a moment, he appeared as if he would launch into a dissertation about the veracity of the beliefs he’d upheld for who knew how long. He didn’t—even though his mouth opened and closed several times, his eyes darted from side to side and his fingers worked, tightening and untightening. He seemed full of energy and excitement, ready to burst and shout something at the top of his lungs.