Two Hearts Asunder (Djinn Empire Book 2)

by Ingrid Seymour

“Providence, huh?” Frank scrutinized his cousin, clearly puzzled by his attitude.

  “Yeah, bro. It’s like . . . magic.” Andy wiggled his eyebrows and cackled. “Anyway, I need you to let me root through your weapon stash.”

  Frank reached for a box on his desk, pulled out a cigar, and slid it under his nose. His eyes closed in delight. “Best Cuban cigars money can buy.” He tapped the end of it against his chin, pondering Andy’s request. “What kind of weapon do you need?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. A rifle with a nice scope. A grenade. Do you have a bazooka?” Andy pulled up his t-shirt’s right sleeve and flexed a puny bicep, displaying a crucified Jesus inked in black and vivid red. “What do you think of my latest tatt?” he asked.

  Frank’s fist jerked violently and exploded onto the desk. “Damn you, Andy.” He leaned forward, eyes bulging. “This isn’t a game. You have one simple task to accomplish, but you’re still the same screw up. Jail didn’t do you a bit of good. Look, just forget it. I’ll put someone else on the job.”

  “Uh-uh, the dark lady ain’t gonna like that, Cuz. She wants me on the job.”

  “She’d like a dead girl, and that’s what I’ll give her. Go home to your mama. You’re not needed anymore.”

  “You don’t want to make her angry, Frankie. You want to be on her good side.”

  “What do you know about her?”

  Andy laughed. “More than you, it seems. And I can tell you, bro, you don’t wanna mess with her.” Andy’s lazy eye seemed focused now. “Look, she said it might take a few tries to off the girl. Truth is, she didn’t seem in no hurry to see her dead. She did want to make sure the girl felt threatened, and I’m pretty sure the fire did the trick, given how I almost turned her daddy into a cracklin.” He laughed. “I’m doing just fine. My dark lady, Akeelah, approves. So don’t worry yourself about it, bro. I’ve got this one. It’s in your best interest to do things just as she says. I tell you ‘cause . . . we’re family.”

  Akeelah had no doubt Frank’s instincts told him he must tread carefully with Andy and his “dark lady.” He hadn’t become New Orleans’ most powerful mafia boss by not listening to his instincts.

  He took a deep breath. “Akeelah, huh?” Frank narrowed his eyes and exhaled. “I don’t know how you can be so smart and yet so stupid.”

  Andy’s above average intelligence and disregard for human life made for a volatile combination, just what Akeelah needed.

  “You could have gone on to Harvard, MIT, Cambridge, wherever,” Frank continued, “Instead, this is what you’ve become. A thug.”

  “Takes one to know one, Cuz.”

  “You had a choice. Something I never had.” Frank stared at him accusingly.

  “You’re starting to sound like my mama.”

  “Could be because she doesn’t shut up ‘bout it. That’s all I hear when she’s around.” Frank pulled open one of the desk drawers and took something out. “Here.” He extended his hand in Andy’s direction. “Don’t get caught, you hear?”

  A set of keys dangled from Frank’s fingers, reflecting the light from a lamp. It wasn’t completely dark outside, but inside the warehouse, it was always nighttime.

  “Or what? You’ll leave me in jail to rot? You already did that, remember? No loyalty. No one has any values anymore.” Andy stood and took the keys from Frank’s large hand. “But it don’t matter, I’m untouchable now. Don’t you worry about me.”

  Andy licked his lips, eyes glinting as if imagining the array of weapons at his disposal, toys to continue his game of cat and mouse.

  My perfect pair of pets, Akeelah thought with delight.

  She couldn’t provide Andy with weapons. Items acquired through magic failed when used against Dross. But Frank had many warehouses, all full of things to satisfy Andy’s twisted imagination, which was ready to be put to good use once more.

  7

  Marielle

  I closed my eyes, forgetting my surroundings, the office, the hard wooden desk at my back. I felt transported, floating on top of a fluffy cloud. There was only Faris, his soft lips, assertive hands and warm, warm chest.

  My fingers had found their way to the bothersome buttons of his shirt, and I’d clumsily undone every single one of them, keeping my concentration in spite of Faris’s heated, mint-flavored kisses.

  With delight, I was now enjoying the way my hands made him tense up as I lightly ran my fingers along his back. With every passing second, he grew more daring, his lips exploring patches of my skin he’d never dared visit before. When he found a new place, I encouraged him, sighing with total approval. Finding me pliant, he kissed me harder, better, unleashing sensations I’d never thought possible.

  When his mouth reached the seam of my low-cut tank top and traced a path along its full length, I reared up in ecstasy, and—by sheer willpower—stopped myself from gasping out loud.

  How could a simple kiss feel so good? I’d been kissed before. But not this way, this was entirely different. It was—

  A cold breeze ruffled the back of my neck. My eyes sprang open. And this time, I couldn’t stop the yelp that escaped past my lips.

  Faris pulled away. “I’m sorry.” He sounded innocent and deeply embarrassed, like a child who had found the secret chocolate stash and got caught after one-too-many pieces. “Forgive me. I went too far.”

  “I—it’s . . . not . . . that.” I shook my head and smiled meekly.

  My eyes darted all around, trying to figure out what had happened to the ceiling. It was gone, replaced by the immensity of the dusky, night sky. A twinge of vertigo assaulted me at the sight of such vastness. I didn’t dare move.

  “We . . . we’re floating . . . outside,” I stammered.

  Faris eyes were hooded, filled with what looked like the same passion I’d felt just moments before. He blinked several times, fighting to regain his focus. After a confused moment, his vision seemed to clear and he finally noticed our surroundings. His passion morphed to total dismay. He turned his face to one side. A blush, visible even through his olive skin, rose to his cheeks. He looked mortified.

  “Um,” I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better, and—before I could think of anything—we were back in the study, sitting on the oversized suede sofa, Faris a good four feet away from me, elbows on knees, face buried between cupped hands.

  “I apologize,” he murmured.

  “No! Why?” I slid to his side and pulled on his hands until they came away from his face. Still he didn’t look at me. “There’s no need to apologize.”

  “Yes, there is.” He straightened, took a deep breath and turned to face me. It was obvious by the small twitch in his jaw and the way his shoulders looked perfectly straight that it was taking all his courage to meet my gaze.

  “I didn’t mean to get carried away like that,” he continued. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. It’s just . . .”

  “Don’t be silly. Don’t ruin what just happened by calling it disrespect.” I kissed him on the corner of his mouth. “It was . . . no . . . it is . . . what I want. I want you.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lower lip. “The feeling is mutual. I assure you.”

  “Look me in the eye, Faris. You have no reason to be embarrassed. It’s . . . natural.” At the word natural, my voice shook a little.

  Faris winced, freed his hands and walked to the window. “Far from it.”

  I sank into the sofa and pulled up the straps of my tank top. “Don’t ruin it,” I said again in a low voice that no one but Faris could have heard.

  “Do you know where we were?” he asked, self-mockery weighing his tone. “Where I inadvertently took you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I was in your arms. That’s all I care about.”

  “It does matter, Marielle. First and foremost, I should respect you. You aren’t . . . my wife, not even my betrothed.” The back of his shirt moved as he angrily tugged on it, fastening the buttons. He could have done it with magic, but he never used his
powers for menial things. He liked feeling human, liked doing things that occupied his hands.

  “Second of all,” he continued, “It is not natural.”

  “That’s not true. We love each other. It’s a perfectly normal step for two people in love.” I couldn’t believe he was saying all these things. A small ball of anger seethed inside my stomach.

  “Two people.” He turned, his shirt perfectly buttoned, although rumpled after our short-lived passionate moment. “I believe that rules me out.”

  “Don’t ruin it,” I said yet again. “It was . . . beautiful and special.” Tears pooled in my eyes of their own accord. Instantly, he was sitting at my side, holding my hands.

  “I can’t do no right today,” he said, frustrated at himself. He thought for a second, then spoke in a measured, careful pace. “Of course it was beautiful and special. Every time I have the privilege of touching you or kissing you, my world becomes . . . heaven itself. And I feel like the wretched sinner who never imagined he’d be allowed through the pearly gates. That’s the reason I must do this the right way. I can’t let my instincts prevail. As a Djinn, I’ve nothing to offer you.”

  “That’s not true. You’ve given me everything.”

  “Not what I would like to give you most. Not the words I know you want to hear.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Faris pressed a finger to my lips.

  “I’ve noticed the look in your eyes every time you tell me you love me, and I don’t say it back. I know you try to pretend it doesn’t matter. But words are powerful, so powerful they can bind a soul.”

  Faris statement rang true, even though logic told me differently. So I decided to argue with my mind, not my heart. “Actions matter more than words. Words can be empty and insincere and outright lies. Actions are true.”

  “Yes. And they become truer when the right words accompany them. They complete the circle, seal fate.”

  My anger and frustration mixed in my chest into a maddening cocktail. I grappled with the emotions, trying to quiet them, but I failed. “What does any of that have to do with us making love?” I burst out.

  “Everything,” he simply said.

  I pulled away, scooted to the end of the sofa and crossed my legs and arms.

  “Until I can tell you in three words how I feel about you, I will remain a Djinn,” he continued in a calm tone. “And judging from what just happened, getting that close to you makes me lose control of my magic.”

  “So what?” I couldn’t see how that mattered. Not when it had felt so right.

  “Do you know where we were?” He asked again. “We were floating above the oak tree behind the nursery.” Thick eyelashes curtained his eyes as embarrassment returned. “And I had no idea. None whatsoever.”

  Maybe I should have thought that was weird, but I didn’t. In the beginning, I hadn’t wanted him to use magic, but once I came to terms with who he was, I stopped caring. He was a Djinn, asking him not to do magic would be like asking a monk not to pray. Ridiculous.

  “What difference does it make? We could have been in outer space, for all I care,” I said.

  “But I care. And you should, too. Because when I finally say those words you want to hear, the magic will leave me and I’ll be nothing more than a simple, flesh and blood man. A man who will have nothing but his feelings for you to make each moment beautiful and special. And if you’ve grown used to jumping off bridges and . . . floating on clouds, I will be no match for your idea of me. And I’m afraid of that. I’m afraid I won’t be enough.”

  My hands flew to my mouth.

  Oh, God. I’m so stupid. So stupid. “Faris, I—I’m so sorry. I should have realized you felt that way.”

  I was such an obtuse, insensitive idiot. How could I have missed that? So many things fell into place, now. This was why I’d practically had to beg him to help with Abby’s birthday gift and why he liked driving everywhere, and why he buttoned his own shirt and cooked me breakfast, and insisted he never used magic when he kissed me, even though it sometimes felt as if he did.

  “Come here,” I said, reaching out a hand. “Please.”

  Faris stared at his lap, ignoring my request. Something he’d never done.

  I inched closer, fighting my own brand of shame. “That would never happen. Never. I love you for who you are. Your personality, your gallantry, your tenderness. Unless they go away, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

  He looked me in the eye abruptly, startling me with the determination in his gaze. “Are you sure about that?”

  The penetrating way his eyes bore into mine gave me pause. I couldn’t understand why his expression was the same one I’d come to associate with danger and anger. I hesitated. His expression grew darker still.

  “You’re not sure,” he whispered more to himself than to me.

  “No, no. I am sure.”

  “You hesitated.” He stood.

  I scrambled to my feet, determined to make him understand there was nothing in the world that would ever make me stop loving him. Nothing. This was just a huge misunderstanding. I opened my mouth to explain, but a loud pop from outside shocked me into silence.

  A shot!

  Time slowed to a crawl. Shards of glass rained onto the hardwood floors and skittered along its polished surface like tiny water droplets. Jagged pieces bounced, skipped and embed themselves into the thick Persian rug.

  I was staring hypnotized at the million glass fragments when, in a flash, Faris materialized in front of me. In the next instant, his face disfigured. He arched his back and growled in pain.

  “What—”

  But I couldn’t utter another word because, suddenly, I was in his arms and, after a half-blink, darkness enveloped us. Something slid across my chest and lap. A seat belt? An engine roared to life, accompanied by a click and mechanic whirring. Door panels parted and slid upward, out of the way. A garage door. Artificial lights from lampposts outside poured in and flooded the space. I looked around trying to get my bearings. I was in a small car, in a garage with walls mere inches from the vehicle.

  Even before the door opened all the way, Faris charged forward, gunning the engine and taking a sharp right into a narrow passage. An array of garage doors, one after the another, sped by on either side of us. The area looked like some sort of storage lot. He punched a button on a remote clipped to the visor. A chain-link gate slid out of the way, letting us out onto a cobblestone street.

  He shifted gears and quickly accelerated. I gripped the sides of the soft leather seat, chest pumping up and down. I stared at the glove box to distract myself from the blur of unrecognizable buildings zipping by outside. The car looked and smelled new, not one I had seen before. It was sporty and extremely fast, just the way Faris liked them.

  I looked out of the window again. We drove by a stone building with a clock tower and ivy growing up the walls. Strategically placed spotlights highlighted the beautiful architecture. The place looked like a European castle, but it was still nighttime, which meant we hadn’t left the western hemisphere.

  We drove for five minutes at full speed, passing similar buildings, before I found my voice. “What happened? Where are we?”

  “Are you okay?” Faris asked, eyes glued to the road, his usual nonchalant driving style abandoned for a far more serious one.

  “Yes, I’m okay. What about you?” I asked, remembering his contorted face as he’d stepped in front of me.

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  I looked out the window again. “What city is this?” We were now on a narrow street with tightly packed, ornate buildings that had a different old-world charm than the ones in New Orleans.

  “Quebec,” Faris said, looking from the rearview mirror to the side mirrors. He put on the turn signal and leaned forward to cautiously check the intersection. A large red stain on his back caught my eye.

  “Oh, my God! There’s blood on your shirt! There’s blood everywhere!” The cream leather seat looked slick with
a huge, crimson smudge.

  “Calm down. I’m fine. It’s just a blood stain. I should have made it disappear when we got to the garage unit, but I didn’t have the presence of mind. It’s too late, now. I can’t use magic. Not now that we’re in the clear. Akeelah could trace it. I’m sorry, but you know it’s nothing to worry about, just blood.”

  “Blood from what?” I asked, feeling the grip of hysteria around my throat. “Wait, that was a shot that came through the window. Somebody was shooting at us?!”

  “Yes.”

  “But . . . Oh, God.”

  “Shhh, I think we’re safe, now. I haven’t used any magic since we left the storage unit. The car and the place we’re going to are safe. I used only regular means and fake identities to acquire them. Akeelah can’t trace them. And it doesn’t seem as though she tried to follow us. I’m not sensing her magic.”

  Fake identities? This all sounded very serious.

  “She’s truly back.”

  I could have pretended the fire was an accident or a random act of violence, but people shooting directly at us through the window, that was a whole different matter. We only had one enemy, and that was Akeelah.

  I wasn’t that hard-headed to keep denying that the evil Djinn was truly back and, obviously, with new accomplices, just the way Faris had said.

  8

  Marielle

  “I don’t want to sleep. I wouldn’t be able to,” I said as Faris sat me down on a queen size bed. The bedroom was of modest size and decor, nothing like any of Faris’s other places. I had visited a couple of them, but this was my first visit to Quebec.

  “Please.” Faris reached for the red chenille blanket that lay folded at the foot of the bed and tried to cover me. “You should rest. It’s late, and you haven’t had proper rest since we left New River Gorge. There’s a second bedroom. I’ll wait there.”

  I threw the cover aside, stood and went out of the bedroom and into the living room.

  “I told you, I won’t be able to sleep.” I looked around. The furniture was utilitarian and looked like it had some wear and tear. Yep, a normal place, not a fancy hotel or one of Faris’s luxurious homes.