“Koshari?” I grinned. “Your family must be Egyptian.”
“I didn’t want to ask you and offend you. Is that where you’re from?”
I nodded. “It’s the nose, huh?” I pointed.
She laughed and hopped off the bus.
I don’t know what drew my attention first: the black car in the parking lot to our left, the matching black car parked on the street to our right, the men standing in front of Guinevere’s door I could just barely see over the banister, or Seymour sprinting toward us, yelling that there were men who smelled funny.
Maybe I saw it all at once because I snatched Guinevere’s wrist before her hair had time to settle on her back.
Her smile disappeared immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to go,” I said quickly. I looked over my shoulder, but the bus had already pulled away and merged back into traffic.
“Go where? Doren, you’re hurting me.”
I looked down at her wrist and saw my knuckles were white. I quickly dropped her wrist, apologizing. “I’m sorry. But we have to run. Now. Don’t ask. Just run.”
Seymour jumped on Gwen’s knees, barking up at her. Are you listening, Human? I keep telling you that the men up there are in your apartment!
Gwen’s eyes had dilated in panic. “What’s going on, Doren? Why is Seymour acting like this? Why are you freaking out?”
Unfortunately for us, Seymour’s barking had drawn the attention of the men.
“Wish us to safety,” I said quickly, looking away from the men. They were talking to each other, one was on a radio, and I knew they were calling for some sort of backup. “Gwen, I can help, but you have to wish it!”
She backed up. “Stop yelling at me!”
“Dammit.” I grabbed her arm again but didn’t let go when she tried to pull away. Instead, I dragged her with me as I started running down the street.
I’ll protect you, Human! Seymour said, turning and running at the men now breaching the bottom stop and headed across the lawn toward us.
“Seymour, don’t!” I yelled.
The stupid dog wouldn’t listen. He thought he was a Rottweiler and charged the men.
“No!” Gwen yelled. “Don’t you dare! He can’t get hurt, Doren!” She dug her heels into the ground, halting our escape. “Seymour, come here! Please!” she begged. “You’re all I’ve got!”
The dog stopped just a few feet from the men and faced Gwen. His tail started to wag, and he stuck his tongue out. You like me?
“We don’t have time for this!” I shouted.
Gwen bent over and patted her knees. “Come here! Please, Seymour!”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Now isn’t the time. He’ll be fine.” I heard a car door slam and looked forward. Men had jumped out of the car in the parking lot nearest us, and I grabbed Gwen’s arm again. “We have to run, now!”
“Not until I’ve got Seymour.” Gwen tried to pull away from me, but I wouldn’t let go.
I narrowed my eyes at her, feeling the heat of anger rising in me. She was blatantly ignoring my warning while I was trying to help her get out of this mess! “I said we need to run!” I yelled at her.
Gwen’s eyes widened, this time in terror, and behind her, Seymour slowed his running. I knew my eyes must have been glowing blue with the djinn power.
“Fire on him!” one of the men ordered.
My duty as a djinn is not to protect my master. It’s not to ensure their safety or prevent them from being killed. I’m also unable to use my magic without the consent of my master.
Those are the rules.
That is the law.
But I’m not always known for following the law.
I saw the markings on my arm glowing blue and knew my eyes would reflect that same power. From my hip, I drew a sword of magic, which sparked and crackled with energy. I pulled Gwen close to my chest, my sword out horizontal in front of me, and I glared at the men, daring them to make the first move.
The shots rang out and gritted my teeth, bracing for impact.
The sting of a bullet bit into the back of my left shoulder. The men by the cars had been the first to hit me. I let out a yell and slammed my sword into the ground. The magic exploded from the sword, into the ground, and tore through the earth before striking the cluster of men who had run from Gwen’s apartment and were almost on us. The pain in my shoulder intensified, and I grunted in pain as several more rounds hit my back and side.
I turned to face the men, only to stare in shock.
Gwen stood behind me, her hair floating in the air from the unseen wind. She had her palms out, arms stretched in front of her, and her hands were glowing red. The men who had been shooting me hovered in the air. She let out a shout and threw her hands down. The men slammed on top of their car.
My rage slowly began to ebb, but only because my energy and strength were fading as well. All of the energy I had consumed from Guinevere had seeped out in the one action I’d taken to protect her without her will for me to do so. My muscles returned to normal, and my core ached as if I’d spent the last week lost in the Sahara.
“What just happened?” Gwen shrieked, her face pale. She stared at her hands.
I forced my eyes open and tried to get to my feet. “You . . . need to run.”
“Tell me what happened. Wait . . . you’re hurt. Doren.” She caught me as I leaned heavily. “Doren . . .”
“Run. Now. I . . . think I’ll be okay.” The edges of my eyesight darkened. “I said go!” I pushed her, urging her to run before the men could overcome their stupor and attack again.
Gwen had just used magic.
I knew she was overwhelmed—the whole situation was impossible to her.
“I-I wish you to take us somewhere safe,” she blurted.
I wasn’t sure how to react at first. She’d given me an order, by law I had to obey, yet I couldn’t even stand on my own. “Where?” I got out.
“I know a little house. It’s abandoned, but I used to use it as a . . . look, it’s on 728 Mahogany Street.”
I nodded.
She crouched just long enough to scoop up Seymour, wrapped her free arm around me, and put her head to my chest.
I pulled the energy from her, linking myself to her wild flurry of emotions for just a moment. In that second, I felt her fear, awe, uncertainty, panic, and excitement. I didn’t expect to feel her safety. Why on earth did she feel safe in that moment?
I pictured the address—728 Mahogany Street—and held on to Guinevere as magic swirled around us.
Chapter 9
Gwen
The tornado of color settled, and I dragged Doren over to the couch. I didn’t have time to think about teleporting to the other side of the city in the blink of an eye or let the throbbing headache cloud my thoughts. Doren’s back was covered in blood, and I could see the bullet holes through his body.
He winced and leaned on me heavily. “I’ll ruin it,” he muttered, his speech sounding slurred.
I shook my head at him, trying to swallow through a sandpaper-dry mouth. “Lie on your stomach. I . . . I’ll get some medicine or something. Water. Yes, I’ll get water.” I ran to the kitchen and instinctively turned on the faucet, forgetting that it would have been shut off after all these years.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to think through the headache pulsating at the back of my head. Where could I get water? We used to have a ditch in the back, but I couldn’t clean out his wounds with filthy water.
“Can you die?” I quickly asked, turning to face him.
Doren lay slumped on the couch, his eyes closed.
My heart was still racing but it seemed to pick up its pace seeing his limp form there.
Minutes ago, I had seen the most terrifying side of him. His eyes had begun to glow blue, and then his skin split like fissures from a volcano as glowing blue markings appeared on his arms and up his neck.
His entire self had chan
ged.
He’d grown in size and wasn’t the Doren I’d grown to know.
“I found water!” Seymour burst in through the dog door I’d forgotten about on the back door leading into the kitchen.
“It can’t be dirty,” I said. I put my hand over my mouth, realizing only then it was trembling. I blamed it on adrenaline. “Doren?” I walked back over to his side and put my hand on his arm. “Doren, tell me what to do.” I felt hot tears filling my eyes in spite of my attempt to hold them back.
The tears were only because I was overwhelmed. I’d just been attacked and the adrenaline was wearing off, and my emotions couldn’t handle the weight of everything that had just happened. That was why I was crying. In my heart of hearts, I was worried about Doren.
Against my better judgment, I’d started to like him.
And now he was unconscious on my couch.
“Doren, can I wish you to heal?” I touched his cheek, and his eyes shifted behind his eyelids before his right eye slowly opened. “Doren? Please tell me you hear me.” A tear trickled down my cheek, and another down the bridge of my nose.
It fell and splashed onto his cheek.
His eye opened wider, and he looked up at me. “You’re . . . crying,” he gasped.
I nodded and a sob broke. I put my arm over my mouth. “I don’t know how to help you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. “I may . . . maybe have to go back. For a little while. I think.”
I nodded quickly and pulled the painting out of my back pocket. “Okay. Just . . . please promise me you’ll come back.”
“Is that a wish?” The corner of his lip curled in a grin, and he opened his eye again.
I laughed in spite of myself and nodded. “Yes.” I sniffled. “More of a demand, really. I’ll go find some food and . . . stay safe for the night. Please?” My voice trembled as I pleaded with him.
He nodded. He managed to lift his hand and tried to reach out, so I grabbed on to it. He squeezed my hand as tightly as he could and his body disappeared in the smoke, leaving me alone in the empty house.
I leaned back on my ankles, holding the painting in my hands, and took several deep breaths. My body only seemed to shake harder now Doren was gone.
Seymour nudged my arm, and I wrapped it around him.
“You are a stupidly brave dog. Don’t you know you could have died? What would I have done if they’d shot you?” I asked. I dropped the painting and pulled Seymour onto my lap.
He licked some of the tears from my cheek. “You’re my human. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Not run at the bad guys? That would have been good.”
“But I had to keep you safe.”
I blinked several times, realization dawning on me. “Wait, I can understand you.”
He let out a happy yip. “I know. You answered me.”
“But why can I understand you now? I always talked to you before . . .” I glanced at the painting. “Maybe some of Doren’s magic leeched when he did that thing with his sword. Maybe that’s why I can understand you now.”
Seymour rubbed his head against my chest. “I like that you can.”
“Me too.” I ran my hand over my face. “But I have so . . . so many questions. Who were those guys? I wish I could heal Doren. I wish he could explain what’s going on. How could I use magic? Why did those guys shoot him?” I let out a sigh and shook my head. I finally leaned against the couch, swallowing hard. “Doren knew something was going to happen.”
Those words hit me as soon as I said them, and my eyes snapped open.
“Doren has secrets.” I looked at the painting and felt a seed of anger starting to fester in my heart. “Doren knows something he hasn’t told me yet.”
“Doesn’t do good to be mad at him,” Seymour said.
My jaw flexed. I was more than mad. I was furious. If Doren recognized those guys so quickly, that meant he knew something was likely to happen in the first place, and he could have warned me this whole time.
“Can I come with you to get food?” Seymour interrupted my thoughts.
I kicked the painting across the floor, and I climbed to my feet. “I really need some water.”
“And a shirt.”
I looked down and realized Doren’s blood had gotten all over me. I closed my eyes, trying to push away the tears of trauma and finally succeeded. “Food. That’s a good idea.” I held the front door open for Seymour to follow me.
The nearest store was a good ten-minute walk, but I was grateful for the time to think and calm down. Luckily, I’d been smart enough to shut my phone off. Whoever those men were, if they could track me by my phone, I didn’t want to risk getting found. Not before Doren explained the situation to me.
Also luckily, I had plenty of cash in my backpack, so everything we needed at the store I could pay for in cash instead of using a card. I wasn’t sure who those men were, but I was smart enough to know I needed to stay on the down low.
Better safe than sorry.
I bought some new clothes, an air mattress—knowing there weren’t any beds in the house—some dinner that wouldn’t need to be cooked, breakfast for the morning, and lots of water.
Seymour proudly carried his little bag of dog treats, food, and the couple of toys I let him pick out. I hadn’t had a pet since I was a child, and for the past year and a half, I tried to resist becoming attached to Seymour.
As I looked down at him, proudly trotting beside me, I shook my head at myself. “All this time I could have had at least someone who cared about me,” I said.
He looked up at me, cocking his head.
“You,” I said.
“You were alone. That’s why I liked you. You needed me, silly human.”
The edge of my mouth tugged in a smile. “You stayed with me because I was alone?”
He nodded, the bag skidding on the ground as he did so. “No one is supposed to be alone. Especially humans. Humans and dogs go together like best friends.”
I smiled and crouched. “Well, I’m the luckiest girl alive, then. I don’t know many dogs that would run toward the bad guys to take them out in order to protect me.” I set the bags down long enough to scratch Seymour behind the ears.
The sunlight had begun to fade by the time we made it back, and my heart twisted when I saw the exterior of my old childhood home. I still owned it, so technically I wasn’t trespassing. I just couldn’t bring myself to live inside all alone after my family passed, but I couldn’t bear the idea of selling it.
The front yard had completely overgrown with weeds and crabgrass. Dad would have been furious about that. He’d spent several years getting rid of the crabgrass so our lawn could be beautiful. If Mom saw the state of the flowerbeds, she’d kill me. Not to mention what used to be the hedges.
“You see ghosts?” Seymour asked.
I drew a shuttered breath. “Not like I thought I would,” I confessed. “Come on. I’m hungry.”
I really wished I could wake Doren. I wanted to wish for the power in the house to be on, as well as the water and gas. I could at least turn on the heat and lights.
Luckily for me, I didn’t need the power to cook, because I’d only bought a few cold items to eat for dinner and then breakfast the next day—an egg sandwich with chips and a beer on the side. For breakfast, I got a bacon, egg, and cheese thing rolled up in a tortilla.
I managed to find some dry wood scraps on the side of the house, where Dad used to keep them, and a few more pieces in the backyard. I put them in the fireplace, only to scowl. I didn’t carry flint and steel with me, nor did I carry matches or a lighter.
What kind of survivalist was I?
“Looks like it’s going to be a cold night tonight unless I can find some blankets,” I said, looking down at Seymour.
He was chewing on the bone I’d bought and watched me with his big brown eyes.
Seymour was right about the ghosts.
&nbs
p; Not physically, obviously, because my family hadn’t died in the house, but as I walked up the stairs, I remembered when my brother and I had taken cardboard boxes and tried to slide down, only to have the box tumble head-over-tail. He’d put a hole in the wall at the bottom of the stairs and we both got grounded for a week and had to help Dad fix the hole.
I smiled bitterly. I’d personally never seen a ghost, thankfully, but I’d known a few people who had. I once wished I could hold on to my family some way, but as I walked down the empty and cold hallway, I was grateful my family hadn’t stuck behind as ghosts. Not for my sake.
Still, the house itself held memories, joyfully painful memories.
I searched the dark hallway closet by hand, trying my best not to worry about possible mice, spiders, or cockroaches, but I only needed to feel the edge to ensure there weren’t blankets hidden somewhere.
I opened the door to my old bedroom, remembering how I’d wanted an “under the sea” bedroom and had taken it upon myself to begin painting the walls with fish. Mom had let me. After they died, I’d sold my bed and dresser, then gotten rid of the toys I didn’t need any longer. There was nothing to be found in the closet.
The instant I put my hand on my brother’s bedroom door, a lump swelled in my throat and pain washed over me. In that moment, I realized I’d spent all of these years suppressing the pain instead of letting it seep out of me. Hopefully, being here would be healing and not leave deeper scars.
Seymour nudged my left hand. He didn’t say anything. He just let me know he was there for me.
I smiled down at him and pushed the door open.
Beckett’s room was decorated in everything airplanes. He’d been obsessed for as long as I could remember. His second love was for trains, and he used to make me help him rearrange his train tracks into something bigger and better than before.
Seeing his bedroom again took my breath away.
It had been my idea to build a train that went around his bedroom, up one wall, around the top above the window, down the next, and across the floor in front of the closet. Dad was taking us to buy supplies to try and build it.
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