“This is dumb,” Silvia says with a tone like we're discussing the plot of a cheesy TV show. Then a flash of devious intelligence crosses her face. “You can't kill me. I'm the master now. If I die, my genie dies. There's no one left to inherit the bond.”
She lowers her arms, slow and casual, mocking Syd.
Syd keeps the gun steady, but her scowl deepens.
“You didn't know that?” Silvia grins at Syd. All she is missing are the devil horns and hooves. “Or did you think I didn't know that?”
I wave my hand at Syd to back off. She is only getting me in more trouble. And probably herself, too. If Silvia hadn't wanted Syd dead before, she will now. She might even want to watch. Or help.
Syd glances at me, then points the barrel at the ground. Her body is still tense though. She's just waiting for Silvia to make a wrong move.
“My father might have thought I was an idiot, but I understand the genie bond better than he ever did.” Sylvia smiles, satisfied and far more demonic than I took her for. “At least, better than he does now.”
“This was a long time coming,” Eileena says from behind me.
I start and then turn to face her. I had forgotten Madame X was overseeing.
She glowers at me. “It's about time our people take back what's ours.”
I shake my head and struggle to speak. “You're not even a Walker by blood. You married into the family.”
She narrows her eyes and moves in. “The jinn belong to my people.”
I open my mouth to reply, then halt. For the first time, I note Eileena's heritage: Arabic. That's where Silvia gets her tan skin and dark hair.
“The Arab blood was so diluted in the Walker line,” Eileena says with distaste. “Until Silvia. We will take back the jinn. All of them.”
“Not like he's a real jinn, anyway.”
I snap around to look at Sylvia. She flutters her eyes in the way that always makes me want to throw a chair at her face.
I choke on my dry throat. “What does that mean?”
“You're not a real jinn,” she says in a tone that should end with “duh”.
I stare at her. Dumbly. It's my specialty.
Silvia blinks. “Did no one tell you the story?”
“No, no one told me the fuckin' story.” My irritation is highlighted by my already raspy voice. “Do you think your father and I went out for Taco Tuesday?”
“It's a good story, though,” she says.
“Thanks, Silv. That solves everything.”
She shrugs. “I thought you knew. I don't see why they would keep it from you. Back in Arabia, when it was all still pagan tribes, the jinn visited our world. They were welcomed. Even worshiped in some areas. The jinn appeared as animals, and sometimes they appeared in human form.
“But then men discovered how to summon the jinn and bind them into servitude. Some masters were nice, but some were not. There was a jinn, a woman. They called her Al-Jamila. She spent most of her time around a particular tribe, because she and one of the men had fallen in love.
“The man walked in on his other tribe members preparing a ritual. He demanded to know what was going on, and they admitted they were going to summon their own jinn. It was a growing practice then, for a tribe to summon a jinn to work for their greater good. The man wanted to know which jinn they had chosen, but they wouldn't even look at him. He knew it was Al-Jamila.
“They summoned her, but as they set to bind her to them, he pushed her out of the way and took her place. He thought the bond would die with him, but it was passed down to his son, and so it was with the master too.”
My exhausted brain reels to make sense of what she said. “So, that man who saved Al-Jamila, he's my ancestor?”
“Yes, he sacrificed not only himself but every generation onward forever so that Al-Jamila could be free.” She sighs. “I told you, it's a good story. Romantic.”
“Yeah, um, Silvia. I'm not sure if you noticed this . . . ” I gaze down at myself. “I don't look very Arabic.”
“Oh, Dim, if your family didn't mind other species, I'm sure they were on board early with interracial marriages too.”
Eileena scoffs. “Not unlike the Walkers.”
I don't reply. I had just come to terms with the fact I wasn't human, that I was barely more than a monster, and now everything is flipped around again. Not like it matters. I might be human, but I'm still cursed with the genie bond.
Syd says, “What I don't get is—”
The door at the far end of the chamber bursts open. I spin around. Larry staggers in, struggling with two large burlap sacks in each hand.
He sees me and halts.
I stare at him, incredulous. “Good god, how are you even standing?”
Then my eyes trail down to the sacks. They have small slits on the bottom, leaving a grainy trail in their wake.
I would recognize thermite anywhere. He has the hookups to make it properly—in enormous quantities.
“You.” He storms toward me. “Get Karl, now.”
I point behind me to the throne.
Larry squints. Then he drops the sacks at his feet and has a gun pointed across the room at Silvia's head.
Eileena makes an indignant noise.
“I've had enough of this bullshit!” His finger twitches on the trigger. “Where is the goddamn jinn?”
I clear my throat.
He hesitates. Just a little. Just enough for me to catch his arm and twist. I shove him to the floor, arm behind his back and his knees against the bags of thermite. A small blowtorch drops out of his pocket and rolls a few feet.
He was serious. He was going to blow this place up.
His cry sounds strangled as I twist further and apply more pressure. “Did you kill Mark?”
Syd's head shoots up, eyes wide.
“Yes, I killed Mark,” Larry says between sharp breaths. “Stop fuckin' around and get me the jinn.”
I lean down. “You're not in any place to be giving orders, are you?”
He sneers, but another little twist has him rethinking his attitude.
“Dim, we need to get out of here. Now.”
Syd sounds panicky, but she's been solid all the way through. What changed?
I look up.
“Please, let's just go.” She makes a move for the door.
Silvia bends down, grabs her knife, and lunges at Syd.
I yell a warning, but Silvia is on Syd's back. She raises the knife. I let go of Larry and charge across the room.
Syd spins in a half-circle, dropping the gun. She throws her elbow, repeatedly, into Silvia's side. I hook Silvia's arm and yank her off. The knife clatters to the floor. Silvia and I both dive for it. She grabs it from under me and swings at Syd's face.
Syd blocks with her arm. The knife slices through her sleeve and gashes her open. Blood streams to the floor. She takes a retreating step. Silvia swings again and again, like she's in a David Carradine movie.
Syd backs into the wall. Silvia swings low and up, aiming for Syd's gut. Syd drops down. I scramble for the gun and pull the trigger.
The explosion fills the room. Then there is silence.
Syd peers up at me from behind her bleeding arm. I follow her gaze to Silvia's body on the floor. Headshot.
She should have given the last commandment first. Until then, my master is at my mercy. No hum to stop me from making a split-second decision.
A thud sounds on the far end of the chamber. I turn to see Eileena tearing out of the door. The world feels surreal. I scan the room. It is just me and Syd separated by Silvia's limp body, with Larry off to the side. He is nursing his arm. I think I broke it.
I reach down and help up Syd. She steps over Silvia, and then falls into my shoulder—and cries. Deep, long sobs, her whole body shuddering. I wrap my arms around her.
God, I've missed her.
I squeeze a little tighter and touch my face to the top of her hair. She reigns in her emotions and breaks free, though my arms are still arou
nd her waist.
She looks into my eyes. My hand goes to her face, cupping her jaw. I lean in to kiss her.
She puts her hand over mine and moves it away, shaking her head.
She steps back. “No, Dim. No, you killed Silvia.”
“I know.” I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. “I know what it means. It was worth it.”
I've never said anything more honest in my life.
She takes another step back, pulling away from me. The lines of her throat are taut. She keeps shaking her head.
I'm hurting her again. I'm killing someone she loves. But this time, it's for the right reason. Maybe I can be redeemed.
“Dimitri,” she says, as if speaking pains her. “Do you know Karl Walker's real name?”
I halt. “What do you mean, real name?”
She runs her hand through her hair, her gaze flicking past me. “His real name is Franklin Ballantyne.”
“Ballantyne?” I stare at her. “You mean, he's . . . ”
She nods once. “One of the four brothers. The oldest. That's why my family was looking for the jinn.” Her frown deepens. “The master bond was passed down from the oldest son to the oldest son. The others . . . wanted a turn. They wanted you.
“That's why Larry killed my father.” She turns to her uncle. He is still huddled on the floor with his arm cradled against his chest. Her expression sparks with rage. “We were supposed to be doing this together! We were supposed to be a family! You drove Grandma away! She couldn't stand it anymore. All anyone talked about was the master bond. All anyone did with their life was study ways they could take it. Mythology, anthropology, sociology. That's all you guys ever cared about!”
She turns back to me, tears breaking free again. She forces them back. “My father was the second oldest. He would have inherited the master bond if Karl and Silvia died. Silvia didn't know we were related, though. Karl sent you for Zoe, and he told my dad to call Larry off or we would never see Zoe again. I begged for them to do what he asked, but they didn't. They just became more determined.
“Then Phil died when he was away on business. Karl said it was a warning that he would kill us all if he had to. But they still didn't stop, Dim. Larry thought Karl would try to infiltrate his work, so he hid the research books. Then Robbie—Phil's son who interned at the labs—was kidnapped. His body was found by some teens camping in the desert. By that time, the books had been stolen from the lab, before it was blown up . . . sort of. We assumed Karl had taken Robbie for information, then killed him.
“Even the doctor who Phil paid off to get the inside scoop was being terrorized. We knew Karl was using the jinn, but we could never get ahead of him—of you. We couldn't anticipate your targets or how you would execute them.”
She lowers her voice. “I never would have guessed it was you. Not even when I found the book from Larry's lab on your living room shelf. The book just outlined who the master bond is handed off to. I knew it had been with the batch of stolen books, so I realized you were involved with Karl, but . . . ”
She shakes her head. “So I started going through your car and found Zoe's stuffed animal. I still didn't put it together. I figured he had sent his personal security for her, instead of sending the jinn.”
She turns back to Larry. “You wanted me to think the jinn had come for my father, but Dimitri was in New Mexico with me when it happened. I never thought—I never thought you would betray us like that.”
Larry grimaces, but says nothing. I have an urge to introduce his face to the back of his skull.
Instead, I turn to Syd. “Where is Zoe?”
She shrugs one shoulder, and her voice quivers. “I don't know. We haven't found her. Oh, god, Dim, if he hurt her . . . ”
I have no comforting words. Karl's record so far isn't encouraging.
I say, “So, Silvia killed Karl to claim her inheritance. I killed Silvia, which would have killed me except . . . there are more Walkers, well, Ballantynes. Who has the master bond now?” I scowl, feeling lost. Then my heart plummets. “Oh, shit. It's not—” I point at Larry. “Oh, fuck, it's not you, is it?”
He sneers.
I am so screwed.
“No, Dim, Larry is the third oldest,” Syd says. “Phil was the fourth.”
I force myself to turn away from Larry, to look back at Syd. I'm not following this game of hot potato. “So, your father is the second oldest?”
She nods.
“But he's dead. And so is Mark. That's your brother, right?”
She nods again, her face turning red with suppressed tears.
“So, the master bond belongs to—” I stop breathing for a moment.
Syd bursts into sobs, nodding and backing away. She can't get much farther without tripping over Silvia.
“No, no, Syd.” I move toward her to comfort her, but I'm shaking. I think it's with excitement. “This is a good thing.”
She shakes her head. “It's me, Dim. It's . . . me.”
“Syd, Syd, it's alright.” I want to squeeze her body and kiss her face all over. “You have the master bond. I'm good with this.”
She's still crying. “I don't want the master bond. Not if it's you.”
“Syd, no. Don't give it away.” My excitement shifts to panic. “Don't do anything rash, please. I don't know how that part works, but if you can give it away, please, oh my god, please, don't.”
“I don't want it,” she whispers, lips trembling.
“Do not give it to Larry. Bad idea. Very bad idea.” I'm waving my hands wildly, unable to portray just how much I do not want her to do anything with that bond. “Just keep it, please.”
“It's wrong,” she says.
She didn't look this scared even when I chased her through Albuquerque.
“Syd, no, look, I can deal with this. I can so deal with this.” I try to stroke her uninjured arm, but she pulls away. “I would spend the rest of my life serving you, Syd. That's what I want.”
She shakes her head. “If you do anything for me, it should be because you choose to, not because you had to.”
“Just never use it, then,” I say because I couldn't care less if she does or doesn't. Her wish is my command, regardless. “Please, Syd. It will be okay. I promise. Look, maybe it's not even true. Larry just based everything on stories, right?”
Larry grunts, but I ignore him.
She gives a sad half-frown. “Dimitri?”
I meet her gaze. I'm hers in the most profound way. And yet I don't seem any closer to being allowed indulge in all the things we both want.
She holds out her hand. “Dimitri, give me your phone, please.”
I tilt my head. “What?”
She takes a deep breath and says in a business-like tone, “This I wish.”
A familiar hum settles in my brain. I'm relieved it's there. The master bond really does belong to Syd.
I reach in my pocket, pull out my phone, and, grinning, offer it to her.
As soon as her hand wraps around the phone, the hum vanishes.
I cannot convey to her what this means to me. If I could, she would stop crying.
She keeps shaking her head and running her fingers through the top of her hair. She hands me back my phone, looking hopeless.
Larry says in a warning tone, “Sydney, do not fuck this up.”
I storm across the room and sock him in the face. Hard enough his entire body falls forward. T.K.O.
I turn back to Syd. “I know it has to be weird for you, but trust me, this isn't a bad thing.”
Her gaze travels around the room. Over the artifacts that probably date back to the time of Al-Jamila, and then to Larry's unconscious form, Karl's covered corpse, and Silvia's silent body on the floor next to her.
She looks at me again. “Did you finish watching that movie?”
I raise my eyebrows. “The what?”
“Aladdin. With the genie.” She smirks. “The funny one.”
“No, but if you want me to . . . ”
&
nbsp; She flinches, and I laugh, as inappropriate of a time as it is. “Too soon?”
Her smirk fades back into a frown. Then she crosses the room in a few paces and stops in front of me.
Her clothes are torn and dirty. Her hair is a mess. Her black makeup is streaked down her cheeks. The sadness, the hurt in her eyes is vivid.
I know her, finally. And I can't imagine anyone more worthy of the master bond.
My life is going to be pretty damn good here out. I mean, Syd is kind of stuck with me now too. Maybe this is her lost.
She reaches up and touches my cheek. My skin is sore, like it had been singed, but too soon she pulls her hand away.
“Dimitri.” A smile plays on her lips. A sad smile, but a resolute one. “I want you to be free. This I wish.”
The words don't make sense for a moment. Then I realize what she did, and I tense. She gives me an inquisitive look.
I wait, trying to hear or feel something different.
“Nothing.” I force a smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “It was a good try.”
We stand in silence. She looks dejected, but I can't bring myself to share her disappointment. I've escaped a slew of horrible fates in the last twelve hours and wound back up with my woman. Despite standing among a scene of carnage, I have never felt a bubble of happiness in my chest like this.
“Let's go find Zoe and get out of here.” I head for the far door.
Syd calls behind me, “Dimitri?”
I halt and turn to her. “Come on, I'm sure Zoe's around here somewhere.”
I don't add that I'm worried we won't find her before something ignites this bonfire. There's an awful lot of thermite.
Syd stays rooted in place, next to Larry's body. “Dimitri, I want you to get me a glass of wine. This I wish.”
I give her a puzzled look. “Really, Syd? Really? We need to—”
I stop, then I look down and focus on listening. She didn't wish correctly. Learning curve, maybe. Except . . . she had already tried it out with the phone. And succeeded.
She comes closer.
“Nothing, right?” Her expression clears and, for the first time in forever, she has an honest smile. “Tell me!”
I shake my head. There's no way. We're missing something vital. I'm afraid to even think right now.
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