by Neil Plakcy
“Please, Bill!” Laskin begged, immobilized by the banyan tendrils, the rain sluicing down over him as if he stood under a faucet.
Biff stood in the middle of the downpour and pulled out his cell phone, pressing Jimmy Stein’s number. “Send a car over to this address,” Biff said, and recited it. “Laskin’s in the parking lot. Better get here fast, though, because he’s getting soaked.”
“We’ve had a dozen cops combing the area. How did you find him?”
“The world is full of strange and wonderful things, Jimmy.”
Biff waited in the shadows of the banyan as the rain continued its relentless sheeting. Then a police car arrived, lights blazing, and he watched the two cops who emerged stare at Laskin in amazement. One of them retrieved a machete from the trunk of the patrol car, an “only in Miami” accessory for police work, and began to saw at the roots, and Biff helped them along by releasing the power that kept them bound.
The roots fell away, and both cops jumped backward in surprise. Laskin tried to flee, but one of them tackled him and cuffed him. Then he and his partner bundled Laskin into the back of the patrol car.
Biff put the lamp into the backpack and hoisted it over his shoulder. Then he walked back across the street to where Raki huddled, wet and miserable, in the shelter of an oak tree. He held his hand out, and the squirrel jumped down to him. Biff thought about his car, warm and dry back by the river’s edge, and before he knew what was happening he was transformed into one of Farishta’s tiny whirlwinds, landing almost immediately back by his car, the soggy squirrel still in his hand. It wasn’t even raining there.
He was too tired to take it all in – his sudden imperviousness to water, his ability to fly like Farishta. It had to be the power of the amulet. But would it last once he returned it to her – if indeed it wasn’t too late?
34 – Farishta
Biff thought about going back to the place where he had released Farishta into the water. But he knew that she was no longer there; the ocean had taken her somewhere she could heal. Or at least he hoped it had.
He ran a couple of yellow lights and darted onto the highway. Raki curled up between the passenger seat and the door and chirped nervously.
“I know,” Biff said. “I’m worried too.”
Where was Farishta? Was there still enough of her essence left to respond to the call of the amulet? He shuddered to think that it would bond with him instead—he had enough power with the lamp, and he sensed that he would not be able to control the amulet the way Farishta might. Could it force him to do something he didn’t want to? Danger accompanied any power, and Biff had no desire to have that much magic at his command. Or would the amulet bond with him the way it had with Laskin, making it more difficult for him to return it to Farishta?
What had happened to Viktor Petrov? Would he resume human form? Or had the Div-e Sepid overtaken him completely, obliterating any trace of his humanity? And Laskin—would Jimmy be able to tie him to any of his crimes so he could be prosecuted?
Biff drove like a maniac up I-95—which put him in league with most of the other drivers. He felt the power of the amulet pulsing through the backpack on the seat beside him. He didn’t know what was happening but he knew he had to get that coin out of his lamp as soon as possible. The more time he spent in a small, closed space with the amulet the more trouble he could be in. He had to get the amulet home and stow it somewhere, away from his physical presence.
He drummed his fingers impatiently at every light between the highway exit and the gated entrance to his community, his hands shaking as he waited for the gate to rise. Then he barreled around a corner and pulled up at the townhouse. Raki was out of the car like a flash, scampering up to the front door. Biff grabbed the backpack, which was curiously heavy, and dragged it up the walkway. He unlocked the door and stopped for a moment, marshaling his strength to drag the pack into the house.
When he did, he looked into the living room. And there, resting on a divan, was Farishta.
Raki chittered happily and rushed to her side. She looked healthier than she had the last time Biff saw her, though her hair was grayer and there were more lines around her face. “You have retrieved it!” she cried, jumping up.
He could barely push the backpack toward her, it had become so heavy. She opened it eagerly and pulled out the lamp. The coin shot out of the spout, trailing its gold rope chain, and Farishta grasped it and closed her eyes.
As Biff watched, the years seemed to strip away from her. Her lavish curls darkened, and the bags under her eyes faded. Her skin smoothed, and a rosy blush bloomed on her cheeks. The coin glowed in her hands, and the gold rope chain hung over her arm like the sinuous folds of a snake.
Biff picked up the lamp. Its power felt changed, yet in a good way. He rubbed his hands over the polished brass and felt the charge singing through his veins.
When Farishta opened her eyes, she was like a new woman—or rather, like the one he had fallen in love with so many centuries before. Raki chittered madly, jumping up and down on the tile floor, his tiny nails clicking like castanets.
“You retrieved my amulet for me,” she said. “Though you knew it meant I might leave you again.”
“I love you. I can only do what’s right for you. Even if means you disappear on me.”
“I may, sometime. But for now I think I will stay and play here in Florida. There is so much water, and so much opportunity for mischief.”
She reached down to the squirrel, who raced up her arm, jumped to her head, and then leapt to the staircase. He sprinted up the steps.
“Will you police me, my Bivas?” Farishta said, smiling coquettishly at him.
“That’s a big task,” Biff said, taking her hand and pulling her down next to him on the divan. “But if anyone’s man enough for it, that’s me.” He leaned over and kissed her, and all thoughts of Viktor Petrov and the Div-e Sepid, and the mischief Farishta could get up to now that she had her power again, faded away.