“Let’s find him.” Faris hurried along the deck, turned the corner and walked to the entrance where a middle-aged attendant in a maroon vest and bow tie demanded our IDs. He eyed us up and down, clearly suspicious of our age.
“Sure thing,” Faris said, pulling out a wallet from his back pocket and giving me a suggestive glance to do the same.
I was days shy of nineteen and two years away from being able to legally enter a casino, but when I handed over my ID, I was only worried about being able to find Dad as quickly as possible. The identification would be no problem. I knew Faris had seen to that.
As I stood fidgeting on restless legs and tried to look past the door, the attendant looked back and forth from the photos to our faces. His thick mustache twitched. I willed him to hurry, my anxiety growing with every passing second. It felt as if there was a ticking clock, counting down to Akeelah’s next attack.
The attendant handed back our IDs. “You two sure don’t look a day older than twenty. The older I get, the more everyone looks younger and younger.” He sighed and shook his head. “Welcome to the Treasure Chest Casino. Good luck.”
We hurried inside and had taken but a few steps when someone squeezed between us, headed in the opposite direction.
“Excuse me,” he said after bumping his shoulder against mine. He flashed a set of yellowed teeth and peered at me with an off-kilter, brown eye. He was short, bony thin, and in dire need of a touch up on his fake-blond hair, unless letting one’s roots show that much was the latest fashion.
“Didn’t mean to bump into you, sweetheart.” The way he said the last word made me want to slap him. He took a sleazy glance down the length of my body. I recoiled inwardly. “Good luck in there. I hope the numbers and stars align for you.”
Faris stepped forward protectively. “Thank you,” he said, though it sounded more like, “get the hell away.”
The guy cracked his neck, took an index finger to his eyebrow and made a dramatic military salute, flashing his heavily tattooed forearms in the process. Something in his saluting hand caught my eye, a small gadget with a few buttons on it. He grinned, whirled around and left.
Weirdo!
As we moved further into the casino, I tried to shake the creepy feeling the little guy had left in me. We walked past several aisles of slot machines, following the signs that led toward the office area, getting deeper into the large boat. We went as far as a large wooden door with an electronic card reader. The sign above the door read: Management.
“He’s behind this door,” Faris said. “I can hear him.”
“Okay, so what do we do?”
Trying not to look suspicious, I looked around and pulled Faris off to the side. We turned our backs on the door, making it look as if we were scoping out the casino floor.
“We could snatch him, take him to Quebec and explain everything there,” Faris offered.
“I guess that’s an option, but I doubt he’d be too happy about that.”
Faris shrugged. “I don’t think he will be happy no matter what we do.”
“I guess you’re right. Okay, let’s—” Before I could finish my thought, the door behind us opened. We turned.
“Thank you, Robert. We’ll be in touch.” A heavyset man in a dark suit shook Dad’s hand.
He turned to leave and stopped in his tracks when he saw us waiting. “What are y’all doing here? And how did you get here so fast?” Dad wore a smart suit. His face was clean-shaven and smooth, with no trace of burns at all. He looked good.
“That was a quick interview,” I said to distract him from the question.
“Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “I’m not quite . . . what they’re looking for. Been out of the workforce for too long, I guess.” He lowered his gaze in embarrassment.
“Dad.” I walked up to him and took his hand. “We need to talk.” I probably should have been more subtle considering how hard this would be for him, but there was no time for that.
“What’s the matter?” His expression grew serious. “Something happened?”
I dragged him through the noisy aisles where each slot machine played a different, annoying electronic tune. A few people milled about, stuffing coins into one machine after another, while others perched in front of particular ones and fed them money non-stop. Most of the gamblers were senior citizens. It was a weekday, after all, and only retirees had time and money to waste in a place like this. Younger gamblers had to work during the week before they could come in to blow away their hard-earned dollars, so we really looked out of place.
By the entrance, we ran into an old couple also on their way out. The old man dragged an oxygen tank on a tiny cart behind him. Clear tubing snaked upward and disappeared under his arm. His wife walked with shaky steps, arm in arm. They clung to each other fiercely and moved in a carefully coordinated way, clearly designed to keep them from falling and breaking a hip bone.
I wished we could just disappear out of the boat but, whenever Faris transported us anywhere using his magic, he always made sure there were no witnesses. It wouldn’t do us any good to end up on the evening news as we went up in smoke in front of the casino’s surveillance cameras. Besides, Dad would totally freak if we didn’t explain everything first.
Faris made as if to get ahead of the couple, then stopped. He was too polite for that. Instead, we trailed behind as the couple painstakingly walked through the exit door. The attendant thanked them by name and told them to come back soon. The old lady waved and, in doing so, dropped her purse. I hurried to pick it up.
“Here you go, ma’am.” I extended the handbag toward her. It was as heavy as bricks—no wonder she’d dropped it.
The lady peered back with heavy-lidded, blue eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re a sweetheart and so beautiful. Bill, look at her lovely green eyes. Isn’t she gorgeous?”
Her companion looked back and nodded happily. “She reminds me of Sandy,” the old man said, his voice nasally due to the oxygen tubes.
I smiled self-consciously and backed away, touched by the lady’s comment and the way she made a point of keeping eye contact, something most people didn’t seem to do often. I blushed at the insistence of her gaze and was reminded of Grandpa Arthur, who always peered into my eyes in the same assertive way.
The lady reached out to pat my arm, then resumed her painstaking journey off the boat. I watched the sweet couple with a smile on my lips, took a deep breath and told myself to relax. We would be off the boat in a matter of minutes. Faris could then conjure one of his cars, and we’d be off. Nothing bad would happen.
Willing my heart to stop thumping so hard, I looked over the riverboat’s railing. It was a brilliant day, without a single cloud in the sky. I wished I had a view of the lake and not the nearby shore.
A small figure caught my eye in the distance, standing on a grassy patch near the water. I tensed as cold fingers seemed to graze the back of my neck. The person was about thirty yards away, but I recognized him. It was the man who had bumped into me as we entered the casino.
He put a hand up and waved with two fingers, holding something with the other three. I frowned as he lowered his hand and, with a flourish, extended it toward the boat. Even from this distance, I saw his lip curl and his face twist in a demented expression. Slowly, he lifted his thumb, then brought it down.
Time slowed to a crawl.
Inwardly, I tried to deny my instincts, but they were on fire, screaming a loud warning. Heart flooding with fear, my eyes swiveled toward the elderly couple, then Dad. An unshakable realization rocked me to the core.
This was Akeelah’s new pet!
He had to be. My hunch was too strong to deny it.
The man is Akeelah’s pet and he’s about to . . .
Faris’s name flew from my lips at the same time that a deafening explosion rocked the boat. An energy wave slammed against my back and sent me flying forward. As I moved through the air, my hand was torn from Dad’s. The world tumbled and fell to pieces a
t the compass of three ear-splitting booms.
I crashed against the ornate railing, chest first. The wood cracked against my ribs, sending a blinding stab of pain through my body, and I flew overboard. An instant later, I hit the water, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs. Patches of blue sky and murky water appeared and disappeared from my vision as I tumbled downward. I struggled to resurface, but I was quickly submerged and enveloped in darkness, weighted down by the Kevlar vest. I clawed at the water, my limbs useless as pain rippled out in waves from my torso.
My eyes closed. The pain was excruciating, the darkness around me too welcoming. Cold water rushed into my lungs like liquid fire, burning, stealing my fighting instinct. A heavy feeling set over me, forcing me into oblivion.
***
“Stay with her,” a commanding voice said. “She’ll be fine.”
Faris?
My eyes sprang open. Dad’s wet face hovered above me, his hair dripping water on my forehead. I coughed, pushed to a sitting position, and spat foul-tasting water on the ground. I stared at the blades of grass in their too-happy, incongruous color. My ears rang with the echoes of the explosions, screams and water rushing all around me.
Memory returned, followed closely by panic.
“Faris, where is Faris?!”
“I—I don’t know.” Dad’s eyes moved from side to side, unable to focus on anything. “One second I was in the water. The next he’s telling me to stay here with you. And next, he’s gone.” He panted, then his breath caught. “Dear God.”
I followed his gaze and, at the sight, my breath caught too. Massive flames lapped at the blue sky, rising from what could only be described as an inferno. What had once been a beautiful riverboat was now a scorching wreck with a huge hole on one side. Clouds of black smoke poured from it, clogging the air with an acrid smell that reminded me of Grandpa’s house. The structure moaned under the embrace of the devouring fire that sprang from the hole. Flames crackled as if laughing at the devastation they caused.
Trembling, Dad and I got to our feet and stared at the horrible scene. We should have been unable to stand after the blast and nearly drowning, but Faris must have healed us.
“Jesus,” Dad murmured.
I thought I heard screams, but I had to be imagining them. The roaring of the fire was too loud, drowning out all other sounds. And yet, there were all those people trapped inside the boat, and many couldn’t get out. The main exit ramp had been blown away. With a terrible, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I looked away and, as I took in my surroundings, suddenly realized where Faris had deposited us.
My heart hammered faster. We were on the shore, right where I’d spotted Akeelah’s pet. I froze, not daring to look around. A movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention. I whirled, expecting to see him there, flashing his yellowed teeth in delight, but, instead, I found a prone shape lying on the grass a few yards away from us. Recognizing the old lady, I rushed to her side and helped her sit up.
“Dear Mother of God, what happened?” she asked in a shaky voice. “Where’s Bill? Where’s my Bill?” she seized me with an arthritic hand and looked up imploringly.
“I—I don’t know,” I managed.
Someone materialized behind the woman. I caught sight of Faris for a split second, then he was gone again.
“Oh, he’s right here,” I said.
Confused, the old lady turned and let out a small yelp. Her Bill lay on the grass, his back to us. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” She crossed herself and crawled to her husband’s side. “Bill,” she said, pulling on his shoulder to turn him over.
Bill’s limp body rolled onto its back.
“Bill, are you okay?” she asked, her voice trembling. Her hand shrank to her lap as Bill’s opened eyes stared up to the sky. “No,” she whimpered.
Dad hurried to Bill’s side and checked his vitals. I stood and took two steps back, shaking my head. He couldn’t be dead.
Please, don’t let him be dead.
I turned away and fell to my knees, facing the boat. The huge flames continued to burn, although they seemed to be growing smaller. Still, I felt their merciless heat on my face, lapping like some devil’s tongue.
“No, Bill,” the old woman’s voice rose in supplication.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dad administering CPR.
My throat burned. I clutched my belly as Dad fought for the man’s life for several minutes. Nothing changed.
Faris appeared to the right, deposited the door attendant on the ground, then disappeared once more. Only I noticed. The attendant’s mustache bobbed up and down as his mouth opened and closed in silence. Abruptly, he jumped to his feet and started pacing, looking from the burning boat to his wet, dripping pants.
“How did you all get here?” he demanded. “That guy just . . .” But he didn’t seem able to process the thought, so instead, he asked, “Is anybody injured?”
He took in Dad’s defeated expression and the lady’s tear-streaked face, then recoiled in horror, the same way I had.
Faris appeared again. This time he carried an unconscious girl dressed in a miniskirt and sequin top. He knelt and set her down. Both Dad and the attendant noticed him this time.
“How did you . . . ?” the attendant was unable to finish his question.
“Faris!” I cried out, running to him.
His eyes were wild and intent at the same time, his clothes charred and wet. He looked at me, then at the boat. “I have to help them,” he murmured.
“Hey, you!” the attendant said, his tone accusing and terrified.
Faris waved a hand, and the man and old lady collapsed on the grassy bank, fast asleep. Without preamble, he disappeared again.
“He’s still a Djinn,” Dad murmured, holding his head in both hands as he moved away from Bill. “You lied to me,” a simple statement, not an accusation.
“I’m sorry.” There was nothing else to say.
Holding each other, we stood side to side, while Faris rescued one person after another, sometimes even two and three at a time. For what felt like hours, we watched his desperate efforts. Without a pause, he laid people on the grass—all in a deep slumber, or so I told myself—then left again. Every time he returned, the flames on the boat grew smaller, like he was taking turns between rescuing people and putting out the fire. Hours seemed to turn into an eternity. My clothes dripped and grew cold. I huddled closer to Dad, shivering.
Finally, Faris stopped, falling to his knees in front of the sleeping victims. He stared at his hands. They were black with soot. Thick strands of wet hair fell to his forehead as his chin dipped and his arms collapsed limp at his sides.
Dad took a step forward. “Faris . . . is everyone out? Are you okay?”
I stayed back, biting my lower lip, too scared of the desolate expression on Faris’s face.
“I couldn’t help them.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t help them all.”
Dad looked at all the slumbering shapes on the ground. There had to be at least fifty of them. He put a hand on Faris’s shoulder. “You did your best.”
A tear rolled down my face. I swatted it away and inhaled, trying to draw strength from the air. Faris needed me. And even if I was scared of the immense sadness etched on his handsome features, I had to go to him.
I took a step forward, then froze.
Behind me, someone had let out a loud breath.
My heart slammed against my chest at the sound of footsteps. I tried to turn, but my arm was yanked painfully backward. I screamed, but my cry died down to a squeak as something cold was pressed against my throat.
“Don’t move or I’ll slit your throat, sweetheart.”
12
Marielle
Dad spun around at my cry. Immediately, he caught sight of the knife at my throat, his eyes growing darker than I’d ever seen. “W-what are you doing? Let my daughter go.” He took two steps forward, then stopped as my attacker pressed the blade harder.
“Put the knife down,” Dad said, his hand outstretched in an entreating gesture.
Slowly, Faris’s gaze lifted and locked with mine. Wide-eyed, I sent a silent plea for help, though inside, I was screaming. A torrent of emotions flowed between us.
He won’t let anyone hurt me.
He won’t let anyone hurt me.
Like someone trying to shake a huge weight off, he stood, his expression morphing from despondency to outright fury, his eyes blazing so intensely they sent a shiver down my back.
He disappeared.
One instant he was standing on the grassy field, and the next there was nothing but air and shoe prints left behind. In the next instant, a gust of wind engulfed me and my arm was released. The knife at my throat and the man at my back vanished. With a weak yelp of relief, I fell to my knees, panting, one hand on my neck and the other on my thumping heart. I clenched my teeth, fighting the urge to vomit.
“Marielle!” Dad ran to my side and threw a protective arm across my back. After making sure I was unharmed, he scanned the area. “They’re gone.” He exhaled in relief. “What the hell is going on here? Who was that man?”
Faris reappeared, kneeling in front of me. He was, needless to say, alone.
“Are you all right?” he asked me, a hand on my shoulder.
“We have to leave,” I croaked and got to my feet on shaky legs.
“That would be a terrible choice,” an insidious voice hissed, slithering across the grass like a snake.
Faris’s worried face hardened, becoming an impenetrable mask. He turned slowly toward the source of the chilling voice.
A man stood a few yards away.
Akeelah’s psycho pet was back.
He was grinning, the obscenely large knife in his hand. I shuddered, remembering its cold edge against my throat. Wherever Faris had taken him, he’d had no trouble finding his way back—not with a Djinn of his own.
Two Hearts Asunder (Djinn Empire Book 2) Page 8