Two Hearts Asunder (Djinn Empire Book 2)

by Ingrid Seymour

  Akeelah waved a hand, and I slammed into an invisible wall and staggered back.

  “Stop!” I charged forward again and beat on the wall, fists pounding ineffectually against the force field.

  Andy ignored me, moving delightedly around his victim, growing wilder and more creative with his tiny tool, infinitely enjoying himself.

  “Monsters,” I screamed as I tried, to no avail, to take down Akeelah’s wall with both magic and fists.

  Moments later, when I finally came to my senses, I fell to my knees and stared at the Eritrean in a combination of horror and pity.

  For her part, Akeelah swelled with satisfaction. Where I felt horror, she experienced pleasure. The writhing man—eyes revolving in their sockets, head jerking violently from side to side—was a welcome sight to her glowing eyes.

  “Well, if you won’t watch this, Faris,” Akeelah said as I turned away. “Then at least you will hear it.”

  A throaty roar began mid-scream. She had removed the seal from the Eritrean’s lips. At the sudden sound of his own voice, the man began to plea for his life, renouncing any desire to become a Djinn.

  “You stay right there, you miserable coward,” Akeelah ordered when I started to walk away. I ignored her and pressed forward. I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “If you leave, your pet will be next.”

  She materialized in front of me, blocking my way.

  “And there will be nothing you’ll be able to do to stop it. Not even the knowledge I seek will be enough then. So think carefully. You can save yourself a lot of trouble, if you simply tell me how to capture and transform this man’s human soul into a Djinn.”

  I seethed, my body trembling from the tension in my limbs. Slowly, what little remained of my tough façade crumbled. I couldn’t allow this to happen to Marielle. Logic abandoned me when it came to her. I could let one man die to save a hundred, but I would sacrifice the whole of humanity for her.

  The Eritrean’s cries grew weaker.

  “It appears as if our first attempt is about to be a failure,” Akeelah said with mock regret. “Have you considered your own cruelty? Standing here doing nothing when you could easily spare his pain? When you could save his life? What does that make you?”

  “This isn’t my fault. You are the monster. Not me.”

  “Monster?” Akeelah laughed. “You utter this word as if it were an insult, but it means nothing to me. I am what I am. A lioness does not weep over her prey. She knows her rightful place in the order of things.”

  “You’re acting against the rules of nature. There’s a reason you can’t hurt humans. What you’re attempting, it goes against the order of things.”

  “Ah, logic fails you. Whatever anyone can accomplish must naturally be part of the order of things, otherwise they would never succeed. Therefore, when I accomplish this, it will mean it’s time to claim my rightful place.”

  I shook my head, feeling defeated.

  “Now, what do you say, Faris? Will you save this poor, poor soul?”

  18

  Akeelah

  Oh, but he was weak! One filthy soul was all it would take to break him? Akeelah hadn’t even had to use the girl, a simple threat had sufficed. Although she might still be of use later.

  Akeelah pointed back at the Eritrean, her large frame bearing menacingly over Faris. “Will you save him?” she asked again.

  To her surprise, he shook his head and said, “No.”

  “No?!” Her anger flared. “Oh, but you will do—”

  The man’s screams stopped abruptly, leaving an eerie silence behind. Faris turned to the table. His eyes went vacant. “No one can help him now,” he said.

  She followed his mournful gaze.

  Under the light of the large lamp, Andy stood over the metal table. He held his hands up, like a surgeon, a serrated knife clutched tightly in one of them. A frenzied smirk twisted his mouth and a savage flare filled his eyes. His body was sleek with crimson blood, reflecting the light. Red splatters stained his face and hair. A puddle of blood grew steadily under his feet. The Eritrean lay unrecognizable, nothing more than a mangled shape of torn flesh.

  She approached the carnage. After contemplating Andy’s handiwork for a long moment, she appraised him. He didn’t make eye contact. Instead, his gaze moved in an endless circle from his victim’s body to the blood-stained tools on the cart.

  Akeelah wished it so and all the things that kept Andy’s eyes swirling back and forth disappeared. The body, the blood, all signs of the violence he’d so diligently imparted also vanished. Even his clothing was replaced by an identical set of spotless garments. Only the cold, gleaming metal table remained.

  “You’re work here is done, Andy,” she said as soothingly as her nature and rising anger allowed.

  He stood, looking vacant, and made no reply.

  “For now,” she added, showing him the way out, “rest. I will need you again. Soon. You must be ready and capable when I summon you.”

  Her pet nodded dumbly and walked away, looking at his hands as he turned them over and over. As soon as he was gone, her anger seemed to take a solid shape. It grew heavy and hard, a hammer ready to smash whatever stood in its way.

  “I guess you weren’t counting on that,” Faris said.

  Akeelah turned and faced him, overflowing with fury. His expression was forlorn, not smug as she’d been expecting. His regret for the lost soul was greater than his satisfaction at her failure. Her fury redoubled at the realization. With a growl, she slammed her hands against his chest and sent him crashing against the medical cart. It clattered to the ground and slid across the concrete floor. If her magic wouldn’t work on him, at least this gave her some satisfaction, even if it didn’t mean really hurting him. It was just her physical manifestation clashing against his.

  He staggered for a few steps, then floated away and alighted on top of a wooden crate. “So human of you,” he said with mockery. “So useless.”

  She stared at her hands, thinking how satisfying it would be to choke the life, the essence out of him. Maybe there was a way. Maybe one day she would find out how, and she would be able to usher the Dross Lover into oblivion with her own magic-forged hands.

  “You aren’t any better than any despicable Dross bully,” Faris spat.

  Suddenly seeing through his act, a throaty cackle erupted from her mouth. “Your mockery fails to hide your fear.” She stopped laughing abruptly. “Something momentous lies ahead of me. I can feel it. This is simply the beginning. Join me now, and you may share in my success. Get in my way, and you and everyone you care for will pay for your mistakes.”

  She approached him and spoke in a calm tone, her own brand of mockery thick in her voice. “I have grown tired of these games, so hear me out and hear me well, for this is the last chance you will ever get.

  “I have at my disposal more men ready for Andy’s butchery. If you tell me what I need to know, we will take the next one and try again. But if you don’t, we will speed things up and move to the final prize.” She let that sink in, then said, “Your Dross girlfriend would make a nice, helpless victim for my vicious pet.”

  Faris’s eyes blazed, but he said nothing—not even a reproach to remind her of the promise she’d made not to hurt the girl.

  “If you don’t begin sharing what you know, you’ll soon enjoy the sight of your little pet on that table. I think you’re hiding something, and I’m not willing to waste time as you attempt to stall. As much as Andy and I would enjoy torturing every single Eritrean, the time has come for you to talk.

  “You will do well to remember your magic is ineffectual against mine, so don’t think for a minute you can save her once we bring her here. If you don’t comply, Andy will thoroughly enjoy tearing her to pieces while you fail miserably at protecting her.

  “So think carefully before you decide. I will even be generous and grant you tonight to think it over. Before you get any ideas, I warn you, I am watching you closely. If you try to le
ave, by any means, I will follow you and, sooner or later, your girlfriend will get a sudden, unpleasant visit from Andy and his watchful friends.”

  Satisfied with her threat, Akeelah strode away to her comfortable corner. She sat atop the pile of cushions and closed her eyes, aware of even the smallest scuttling creature.

  She never slept.

  19

  Marielle

  After dinner, Dad was carefully drying the dishes and putting them back into place.

  “These plates are too fancy for my humble spaghetti,” he said. “I’m surprised he had the ingredients. Do Djinn eat? I’ve seen him eat, but does he need to? I don’t imagine he does.”

  Throughout the entire meal Dad had talked incessantly, something he did when he was worried. For my part, I sat quietly, lost in my own thoughts, an idea taking shape in my mind.

  Now, my thoughts flew out of my mouth like wayward bees. “I’m dropping out of school.”

  “I wonder where he bought that sauce, it was—” He turned, the dish towel in one hand and a plate in the other. “Wait, what did you say?” Little drops of water slipped down the edge of the plate and splattered onto the hardwood floor.

  “School seems meaningless right now. I have to do something to stop that mad creature.” This wasn’t something I should discuss with Dad, but I didn’t seem able to control my buzzing, angry words.

  He laughed, but stopped as soon as he noticed my serious expression.

  “Kiddo, what could you do against a Djinn? There’s nothing anyone can do.”

  “There has to be a way a stop her. Faris thinks she’s planning to . . . cause more problems for everyone. Maybe similar to what she did today.”

  Dad shook his head.

  “Maybe I can find someone who’s like an expert in Djinn or something,” I said.

  Dad set the plate and towel on the counter and placed both hands on his waist. “No. We need to stay out of this. Faris is already out there doing what he can. You need to stay in school, and stay safe. He wouldn’t want you risking your life like that. Have you thought of that?”

  “But Dad, I—”

  “I said no. Stop talking nonsense. It’s late. You need to get some sleep. It’s been a long day, and you’re not thinking clearly. I’m taking you to class tomorrow.”

  I could have argued, but what was the point? My mind was made up already, no matter what he said.

  “Maybe you’re right.” Avoiding his gaze, I put on an obedient expression, shuffled out of the kitchen and surreptitiously headed for the study to snatch Faris’s briefcase.

  “I’ll sleep in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs,” I called out as I hurried past. “Good night.”

  “Sleep good,” he called back, still rattling dishes.

  I took the steps two at a time and locked the guest bedroom door behind me. I was letting Dad have Faris’s room. The thought of curling up in his bed was too much. If I did that, I would probably not have the will to get out of bed tomorrow. I couldn’t take that risk.

  After hiding the briefcase under the bed, I looked around the mostly bare room. There were no hangings on the wall or windows, no dresser, no shelves—just a bed and a tall, free-standing mirror that showed my reflection. I rubbed the side of my face and sighed. I looked hideous. My face was blotchy from crying, and I was still wearing the same clothes from this morning. They were dirty and torn, smelling of Lake Pontchartrain and acrid smoke.

  Hoping to find something clean to wear, I wandered into the closet. Faris had bought the place only recently and no one had ever stayed upstairs, but considering how well-prepared he was, it seemed worth a shot.

  I opened the door to the walk-in and turned on the light. The shelves were empty. I sighed, thinking that if Faris were here, he would have already produced a nice pair of pajamas for me. Mad at myself, I pushed the thought away.

  When had I become so accustomed to magic? At first, it had bothered me, but somewhere along the way I’d accepted it, expected it, even. Yet, it’d never occurred to me that Faris worried about not being enough for me once he became human. And why would it? From his perspective, maybe it made sense. But, from mine, it was impossible.

  He was everything to me, magic or not.

  Still, if—no!—when I saw him again, I would give him no reason to doubt this. I would stop expecting him to pull things out of thin air when I needed them, and I would never even think this way again.

  Doing my best to uphold my resolve, I went in the bathroom, undressed and took a shower. After drying off, I wrapped myself in a large white towel, picked up my clothes and brought them downstairs to the laundry room. Everything was quiet. Dad had taken the master bedroom and had already gone to bed. I didn’t blame him. I was exhausted too, my weary body begging for the comfort of the bed upstairs.

  I went through every cabinet in the laundry room and found no detergent—something I hadn’t thought to buy when we went shopping. I cringed at the thought of wearing the same dirty clothes tomorrow. I stared at the jeans and halter top and smiled sadly when I realized they were the only clothes I had left. Everything I owned had burned with Grandpa’s house. So much had happened in the last couple of days that I never even stopped to think about that.

  I dumped the clothes in the washing machine and set them for the sanitary cycle. Soap or not, they would be cleaner in the end. After that, it was the dryer on full heat. That would kill just about anything, though it would probably make all the stains permanent. I wasn’t worried about it, though. With what Faris had left in the briefcase, I could buy several new wardrobes.

  I didn’t need much, though. Not for what I had in mind.

  20

  Marielle

  The next morning, when Dad’s shouts pierced through my murky dreams, I sprang upright.

  “You’ll be late for school,” he yelled from downstairs. “Don’t make me come up there with a tray of ice cubes.”

  “Don’t you dare. I’m up.” I groaned and lowered my feet to the soft carpet. The towel I’d slept in fell off as I stretched my arms. I yelped, picked up the towel and covered myself—not as much out of modesty as surprise. I’d forgotten I wasn’t wearing pajamas.

  I checked the time on Faris’s phone. 6:45 AM. My first class was at eight. Dragging my feet, I went in the bathroom and washed my face. Next, I put on my not-so-dirty jeans and top, gathered my hair in a ponytail, and went to the night table.

  Absentmindedly, I touched the note I’d written for Dad. After a deep breath, I patted the piece of paper, armed myself with courage, and went downstairs.

  “Good morning,” I said, smiling just a bit, careful not to overdo it.

  “Hey, kiddo. I made French toast. Do you want honey or jelly on yours?” Dad asked.

  “Both.”

  He whistled a tune as he put two glistening pieces of French toast on a plate. He set them down on the bar-style countertop next a tall glass of milk. “Did you sleep well?”

  I watched him slide back to the stove to get his breakfast, still whistling.

  “How can you act like nothing’s happened?” I asked.

  If he was doing it to cheer me up, he was way off base. His nonchalant attitude was getting on my nerves. Big time.

  The whistling stopped and he looked back over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Because I have to,” he said, his cheerfulness gone. “Last night, I turned things over in my head a million times. Gave me a terrible headache. I barely got any sleep. As if all the mundane things already floating in there weren’t enough, now all the . . . supernatural crap is almost driving me insane. I can’t keep thinking of it.”

  I hadn’t noticed the circles under his eyes until then.

  He pointed at my plate. “Eat your French toast.”

  Frowning, I sat, spread grape jelly over my breakfast and drizzled it with honey. I wasn’t hungry, but going along would keep Dad off my case. He knew me too well, though.

  “Are you all right? You look . . . tired. Maybe going to class isn’
t such a great idea.” He buttered his toast without making eye contact. “I mean, I can hardly expect you to go out there and conquer the world in your dirty clothes.”

  I glowered at him. My dirty clothes? Really? What about losing my boyfriend and possibly facing the end of the world? Didn’t that count? Clearly, he was in denial. But at least I didn’t need to pretend to go to class anymore.

  “Why don’t we go by the nursery?” he continued. “We’ll get money from Javier to buy clothes, toiletries, that sort of thing. The basics, you know, to hold us until the insurance company pays.”

  Uh-oh. The “going to class” plan was better than this. “Um, it’s okay, Dad. I think it’ll be good for me to go back to class. It would take my mind off things.” I shrugged, trying not to sound too eager since just last night I’d been ready to become a drop-out.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, more concerned than suspicious.

  I shrugged again. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “All right. Eat up then.” He picked up his entire French toast with the fork, turned it sideways and bit into it, fitting half of it into his mouth. “Hurry, I’ll drop you off.”

  I looked up from my plate. “Uh, that’s okay. I can drive.”

  “Well, I was hoping I could take Faris’s car since I have to run all those errands. You don’t think he would mind, do you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He was in get-it-done mode, using a list of mundane tasks as his coping mechanism. “I’ll pick you up after class, then we can go to the mall, do a little shopping, and get dinner at the food court. Afterward, we can go by Grandpa’s house to pick up our cars, so you can drive yourself tomorrow. Sound like a plan? We can talk tonight about what we’re going to do. I feel a bit uncomfortable staying in Faris’s place. Maybe we—”

  “Dad, slow down. Faris has more than one car and he wouldn’t mind if we use all of them. I think he would . . .” I fought not to get choked up, “he would like it if we stay here. At least until you get everything straightened out with the insurance company. We can decide what to do after that.”