Bottled

by Carol Riggs

  “I…I’ve had nothing to smile about.” We sway and shift until a set of shelves is at my back, but I don’t feel cornered or troubled by his nearness. The music fills my head, the air around me, my entire being. The edge of my aura overlaps with Nathan’s. He leans in and rests one hand on a shelf above my head. His blue-gray eyes are glittery.

  We absorb the magic, my smile still reflecting his like the moon into a clear lake—until a discordant noise jolts us out of eye contact.

  It’s the tinkling of the bell on the shop’s front door.

  “Nathan!” a familiar female voice says, the word saturated with shock.

  I spin to find Cherie has entered the shop with Beagley.

  Nathan drops his hand from the shelf and walks away from me. “Greetings, earthlings.”

  “Hey, Turner.” Beagley gives Nathan a fist bump and a questioning arch of eyebrows before he turns to me. “Nice to see you, Adeelah. It figures you guys would be hanging out together.”

  I narrow my eyes. I’m not sure why he said it that way, with a distinctly negative undercurrent.

  “Ditto for you two,” Nathan shoots back, with a rather possessive glance at Cherie.

  Beagley’s eyes bulge at the implication. Waves of male assertion ripple around me, joined by a dash of Cherie’s resentment. It’s all a confused blend of energy and emotion that shoves me off kilter. In my mind, I scramble to find a way to get everything back to normal.

  “Nathan’s introducing me to Shirabalta,” I say, my words overly bright. “I’ve never heard it before.”

  Nathan whisks over to the counter and lowers the volume of the music to a reedy, undulating thread. “You guys remember when we listened to their first CD?”

  “Sure,” Beagley says. “You mean that time two years ago at the beach, freezing our butts off and trying to get a fire started with itty-bitty pieces of driftwood.”

  Cherie elbows him. “Stop it. I have great memories of that day. That hot chocolate you made was outta-this-world awesome. Then the battle you guys had with the kelp. So epic.” She giggles.

  Beagley snorts, his tension level dropping. “Yeah. I seriously whipped Nathan’s booty, in true pirate style.” I can tell he’s over-explaining to impress me.

  Time to divert the conversation. I address Cherie. “Nathan tells me you saw Reaching Eternity with him last night. Did you enjoy it, or was it as gag-inducing as Beagley predicted?”

  Beagley erupts into hoots, earning him a punch on the upper arm from Cherie.

  “It was thought-provoking,” she says, aiming her words at Beagley. “Not just a bunch of pointless tech violence and chase scenes.”

  “Chase scenes are never pointless,” Beagley says. “Getting away alive and intact is always a good thing. Adeelah, you should come with me to Coos Bay tonight and see Renegade Gearheads. Check it out for yourself.”

  “I’m sorry. As I said earlier this week, I have other plans.” Stars. This guy is beyond persistent, almost comical in his denseness.

  “Nathan, come see it with us,” Cherie says, as if she were invited instead of me. “You doing anything tonight?”

  “We could scarf some pizza before we go,” Beagley adds.

  I hurry to cut in. “That’d be enjoyable, Nathan. You should join in.” Even if he goes as part of their trio, it’s time spent with Cherie. We can admire the stars another evening.

  Nathan’s gaze bounces off mine for a split second, as if he knows my intentions. “Sounds great. My car or one of yours?”

  “Mine, of course,” Beagley says.

  “Showoff,” Cherie says, but the corners of her mouth twitch. While she and Nathan talk about pizza sizes and whether or not to involve green peppers, Beagley ambles closer to me.

  I back up and put the spinning wheel between us.

  “I have a present for you,” he says, reaching into his jeans pocket.

  I blink. “Why?”

  “Because I like you. You’re pretty. I’m a nice guy. It’s fun to spend money. Pick a reason.” He hands me a small white box.

  “A friendship present?” I take the box with reluctance.

  “Of course.” He comes around to my side of the spinning wheel and stands at my elbow.

  I maneuver backward while I open the box. Inside, a gold butterfly pendant sparkles, delicate on a long chain. “Thank you, Beagley. It’s beautiful.”

  “I’ll help you put it on,” he says, reaching out.

  I sidestep him. “I’m more than capable of doing it myself, thank you. You should take care. I heard your knuckles were in peril if you tried to touch me.”

  He blasts out a sigh. “So Nathan threatened. Why’s that, anyway?”

  “I told him I’d rather not be touched by anyone who’s not my boyfriend.” It’s a flimsy excuse, but it’s all I can think of at the moment.

  “You sure were close to Nathan earlier.” Beagley’s voice is a little petulant. “About as close as you could get without touching.”

  “That…was merely a bizarre enchantment of the music. Nathan has a comforting, helpful aura. He reminds me of my brother Jamaal.”

  “Yeah, right.” He barks out a laugh.

  “Beagley.” I give him an iron-hard glare. “As congenial as you both are, I’m not wanting you or Nathan to be my boyfriend. I’m promised to someone I love. You and I can be friends, and friends only.”

  “That just doesn’t seem fair.” He lifts his hand, as if intending to stroke my hair.

  I step away. “Life often isn’t fair, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” I walk over to Nathan and Cherie, clasping the necklace around my neck. “Beagley gave me this friendship necklace. Isn’t it lovely?”

  Cherie coos over it. Yet I perceive a flush of resentment and distress mixed in with her admiration. I wonder if Beagley has ever given her a necklace. This is awkward. Maybe I shouldn’t have accepted the gift or shown it to her.

  “That’s a great butterfly, Adeelah,” Nathan says.

  I frown. It’s puzzling. Nathan’s words hold the same quality of resentment and distress as Cherie’s.

  What on earth does that mean?

  Chapter 13

  After Cherie and Beagley leave the shop, Nathan and I replace the game cube into one of my compartments Inside. His mother arrives a little while later, so we secure my bottle at the YMCA and drive to his house. He’s kind enough to wish me into a more weather-appropriate dress and sandals.

  At last, I’m about to see Karim again. I leave the butterfly necklace on an end table to prevent awkward questions. Then we huddle on the sofa over Nathan’s phone and pinpoint Karim’s location at the café near the resort. A flurry of nerves thrash inside me. Is he waiting for me, expecting me to come back?

  To be safe, we also locate Faruq, whom we discover at the resort a quarter-mile away.

  “That sounds far enough,” I say. “I’ll return into my bottle when I’m finished.”

  Nathan crosses his arms. “No way. I gotta know if you get back all right. Materialize here in the living room, please. Behind the couch, if you’re nervous about someone else possibly being here. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Nathan. I can’t be harmed and I won’t be gone that long. I’ll get back hours before you leave for your pizza and movie.”

  “I’m not taking any chances. I told you, I don’t like you going alone.”

  He’s acting more mulish than I feel, and his words are almost a command. “All right,” I say. “The first notion I get that Faruq’s approaching, I’ll transfer back. You can always fetch my bottle and summon me if I haven’t returned in time.”

  “Good idea. Be careful.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Trying to ignore his concerned look as he makes the wish for me to transfer, I disintegrate with gusto. I focus on the Bahamian island. The café. Its whitewashed boards. The briny air and smooth beach. After a moment, my sandals sink into sand and the sun beats down upon my skin.

  I’ve arrived. I find my footing, walk a shor
t distance to a set of stairs, and climb to the outdoor café area.

  Wearing dark glasses and a bright green shirt, Karim sits at a table. His manner is pleased but unsurprised as I make my way toward him.

  “I was hoping you’d join me,” he says as I sit across from him. “Yesterday rather than today, however. I missed you.”

  “I was bottled all day yesterday. Are you enjoying the island?”

  “I am now that you’re here.” He waves a server over. “Conch fritters and a papaya drink, please. And I’d like another mojito.” The server nods and lopes away.

  Karim and I watch the ocean together. I savor the moment, breathe it in like a heady drug. I’m unable to keep my attention on the languid waves and frothy foam for too long, because Karim is much more fascinating to study. I soak up every scrap of him. My awareness clings to the angles of his face. I long to touch a dark curl, stroke the curve of his ear.

  He smiles, his teeth white against the blackness of his goatee. “Just think. We can enjoy each other’s company like this for hours after you join me.”

  “If I join you.”

  “Heavens above. You haven’t made your decision yet?”

  “I’m torn, my love. You know how I feel about the elixir.” My unspoken thoughts hang between us. I know he feels that way too, but he says nothing.

  The server brings Karim a lime-green drink that matches his shirt, and presents me with a golden yellow beverage and a plateful of fried spheres. I sip my papaya concoction and bite into a hot fritter, which bursts with flavors of cayenne, onion, and robust seafood.

  Karim traces patterns in the condensation on his glass. He watches me eat. “I trust you’re enjoying those appetizers. I find them outstanding.”

  “They’re amazing.”

  His mood shifts and grows more jagged against my mind. “Father’s been researching your tale about your master. Among other things, there is no half-American couple as you described working at the resort. He’s learning the things you told him are untrue, and he’s not happy you lied to him.”

  My guess is that’s a horrid understatement. He’s probably in a raging fury. “Part of what I told him was true. I’m pretty certain Rehema died of a cocaine overdose.”

  Karim leans across the table. “Don’t anger him, Adeelah. We don’t want him irate by the time he gains possession of your bottle.”

  Or we’ll never get to see each other. That consequence hangs over our heads like a heavy blade. “Then we need to make sure he doesn’t gain possession of it.”

  “Don’t be absurd. We need you for the elixir. We’re already four months over the expiration date of our last batch. I’m aging as we speak. My protection against accidents and illnesses is gone. And you know it won’t be long before Father finds your correct location.”

  I push back the plate of fritters, my desire for food gone. What he says is true. If there’s a record of Rehema’s death somewhere in this modern age of magical devices, Faruq will find it. That’ll lead him to Hawaii, where he’ll discover her palace contents were sold and my bottle purchased by Mrs. Turner. Nathan, as well as his mother and David, will be in direct danger. Since Nathan still lives with his kin, I can’t whisk him away to live in another country as easily as I did Bello or Rehema.

  My insides lurch. And I would blame myself if anything happened to him or his family. It would be like throwing Karim or my brother Jamaal to a pack of ravenous wolves. Perhaps I should give myself up to prevent such a situation. I twist the rings on my fingers, making them scrape together. “If I reveal my true location, what’s the guarantee your father won’t harm my master?”

  Karim scowls. “There is no guarantee. He’ll promise anything, and your guess is as good as mine as to whether he’ll abide by it.”

  “I’d also like to stipulate that you be my master instead of him.”

  “I’m certain Father would veto that idea. If I became your master, there’s nothing to prevent me from running away with you and the bottle, leaving him to die without the elixir. It’s too tempting for us. He wouldn’t take that chance.”

  I ball my hands into fists. “Confound it, there’s no good solution. What are we going to do?”

  We sit for a few minutes in tense silence until Karim speaks again. “You need to appease my father by acting now rather than later. Don’t make him hunt you down, Adeelah.”

  “Revealing my location and sacrificing my master is a horrible solution!”

  Karim gives an impatient grunt. “Then tell your master he’s certain to be hunted down and killed—unless he brings your bottle to another location and leaves it there for us. That way Father won’t know where your master lives, and at that point Father won’t care because he’ll have you.”

  I mull over his words. I’m not fond of the idea, but it’s the best of the distasteful options we’re left with. Will Nathan agree to it? We need to act soon, before Faruq tracks me down. Curse it all. I should’ve told Faruq that Nathan stole my bottle from Rehema in The Bahamas, rather than saying she died of a probable overdose. He can’t find out about her death in Hawaii and trace me to Bandon.

  “That might work,” I say, the words coming out slow.

  Karim nods. “So there you have it. A perfect solution in which your master will be safe and we can be together.”

  Perfect. Only in some ways. It’s more like perfectly repulsive in other ways. I glance away and watch the waves lap in endless repetition against the shoreline. It will be difficult to live with myself after sealing this elixir, with the deaths of humans on my conscience—even as miserable and greedy as some humans often are. I don’t see how Karim can drink the potion. He’s desperate, or else changed by circumstances and constant exposure to his father.

  Where is the honorable, courageous Karim I once knew, who pretended to agree to everything his father said about the elixir, then swiped my bottle from the leisure room table and ran with it to the garden? His eyes burned true and defiant when he summoned me. We would escape together, he said. We’d be free of Faruq’s interference for the rest of our lives.

  It was miserable luck the wretched groundskeeper overheard our conversation. When he struck Karim on the head and knocked him unconscious, the man became my next master. I spent the next thirty-five years in a remote village in Italy.

  “You saved me from sealing the elixir once,” I murmur to Karim, still watching the sea.

  “Things have changed since then. I’m truly sorry, my love.”

  Hearing his regret astounds me. In part because it sounds like he’s given up, which is unusual for him, but also because he isn’t someone who often admits he’s wrong. His apology is a rare treasure. Though he’s not trapped in a physical prison like I am, he’s wedged between weighty options: to live or die…to be involved with the elixir or never see me again.

  He has made his choice and must live with the consequences and his conscience.

  And now I must make my choice.

  Karim’s chair scrapes. I turn to see him standing. “Come,” he says. “Walk with me on the beach. No more talk of difficult decisions or my father.”

  I send my focus outward to check for Faruq. Sensing nothing except a distant rancid consciousness that indicates he’s at least a few minutes away, I rise and walk with Karim to the gritty hot sand. The breeze is vigorous here, sweeping dark tendrils of my hair upward as if they’re alive. Karim studies my face as if memorizing it afresh. We stroll. Our hands drift near each other. I pretend we’re clasping hands, with his hand warm and strong in mine. A white gull cries, circling in the blue above us.

  “Do you remember how to run?” Karim asks. There’s a friendly challenge in his tone.

  “Of course I do.” As he stoops to remove his sandals, I bend to discard mine.

  “I’ll race you,” Karim says.

  Though I’m already barefoot, I’m still bent over when he takes off into a sand-spraying gallop. I shriek and leap into a mad dash after him, abandoning our sandals.

&
nbsp; “Cheating fiend!” My voice whips past my ears, muted by my speed. My hair snaps behind me. He’s already five yards ahead. His shirt flutters like a wild banner. I angle toward the water, to the harder sand where I can run faster. Air pumps in and out of my lungs in gusts. I gain on him, pass him.

  He glances over and yells. “You’re the cheating fiend!”

  I laugh my first laugh in centuries, and slow to match his pace. We come abreast of each other and settle into a tandem jog, continuing down the beach. Our breathing falls into a comfortable rhythm. This is the Karim I love and want to spend the rest of my life with. Near-immortal. Together as one.

  Along with that, I must do all I can to keep my wonderful, kind master Nathan and his family safe. That means complying with Karim’s suggestion—for now. After I’ve secured Nathan’s future, I will attend to mine. I hope to come up with an alternate idea later. No humans will be harmed if I can help it, as vile and petty and grasping as they can be. With Karim by my side, I’ll find a way to thwart Faruq and be free of him forever.

  My choice is made.

  * * *

  I prepare to leave The Bahamas while Karim stands on the beach beside a grove of palm trees. He traces me with his eyes. His words echo as I disintegrate into alternate space.

  I’ll see you Monday morning, Adeelah.

  My smile fades along with our tropical paradise. Although I hate to leave him, I must. Wisps of his voice stretch out and grow needle-thin. I concentrate on the transfer region between The Bahamas and Oregon, and slip inside it. The dissolving particles of my body move in a sluggish flow, as if I’m pushing myself through a fine mesh. What’s going on—is this resistance happening because I don’t want to leave Karim?

  Preposterous. That shouldn’t make a difference.

  I struggle through the connecting chasm. With an effort, I visualize Nathan’s living room with its velvety sofa, white doilies, and fringed lampshades. They’re there, but shadowed. I claw my way toward them. I’m trying with all my might now. The transfer space resists me. When I materialize at last in the human realm, I gulp mouthfuls of air like I’ve been underwater.