by Carol Riggs
Ears straining, heartbeat stuttering, I listen again. All is silent except for occasional clunks and scraping. The man’s figure to my left is shadowy. Maybe I should take David up the stairs to the outside before I try to set the man free.
No. The boy is too weak from the drugs to walk. I’ll have to carry him out, and if Faruq arrives at this room while I’m gone, I won’t be able to save the other victim. I fetch my knife and hurry to the man. As my mind registers his features, I almost choke.
It’s Ted, the former beggar friend of Nathan’s. In the dim light, I make out his grizzled beard, his gentle and weathered eyes. He’s wearing the same ratty shirt he usually wears. Faruq probably thought he was a drifter since he’s still dressed like one. I should’ve suggested that Nathan wish for better clothing.
I give Ted a quick nod and begin a frantic sawing. After I sever the rope at his ankles, he eases into a sitting position. I go back to David’s small, limp body.
Karim’s and Faruq’s voices start up again. Through the gap by the door, I watch Faruq spread canvas on the floor by the rotted mattress. He and Karim disappear into the other room.
Ted shuffles up behind me. His eyes are glazed, and he blinks as though he’s lightheaded. I hold up one hand. We have to wait. I’m not sure we can make it to the staircase leading to the outside, even though it’s a few feet away. I wish I knew what was happening in the other room.
My question is answered as Faruq emerges carrying the sagging form of a middle-aged woman, his hands under her arms by her shoulders. Her tangled hair sways in the harsh light of the hanging lantern. Her throat is covered in blood. Karim comes into view, holding her at the knees, his face flushed and grim. They drape her across one end of the canvas and begin rolling her up. The last I see of her is a ratty sneaker on a lifeless white leg.
Bile rises into my mouth. The woman is dead. Karim wasn’t able to stop Faruq from killing her. But if he helps transport her body elsewhere, it might give me time to move David and Ted up the stairs. I’m not going to wait to find out Karim’s plan to save them. I clutch my weapon handle, hard. I want so badly to rush out the door with my knife. If Karim won’t attack his father, I will. Faruq is a ruthless killer and he deserves to die for what he’s done. He forfeited his right to live long ago.
I spread out my free hand. The fingers look frail, thin. The fist holding the knife is quaking.
Heavens. No…no. I can’t run out and stab Faruq like a mindless savage. I’m an unprotected human now. If something happens to me, David and Ted won’t have a chance in their drugged state. And I don’t know that I could stab Karim’s father. Though they’ve had their disagreements and power struggles, Karim loves the wretched man.
Besides, whereas I might balk about plunging a knife into human flesh, Faruq won’t hesitate a split-second to kill me.
The police will come soon to help. They have to.
Grunting, Faruq and Karim begin lugging the canvas-shrouded woman up the second set of stairs leading to the outside. Curses. I can’t use those stairs to escape now because I don’t know how far away from the house they’re going to carry the woman. I’ll have to sneak David and Ted up to the kitchen.
The thumps on the staircase reach the top. I pull my door open wider. A shaft of sunlight on the floor winks out as the exterior door above me is kicked closed. All clear. This is my chance before they return. I motion to Ted, who stumbles out into the rotting mattress area.
“Use those stairs and go out the front door,” I whisper, pointing.
He shrugs and says something incomprehensible, and I remember I’m not speaking his language. Stars above, of all times for me to be without my automatic communication. I hand him my knife and wave him upward. He acts as if he understands, and begins a tremulous climb. I hope he can escape this house despite his bad leg.
I’m more vulnerable now without the knife, but I can’t hold onto it while carrying David anyway.
As unsteady as Ted, I kneel beside David and gather him up. Though small, he’s still heavy for my newly human arms. He slides around. My body isn’t solid enough to grasp him well. It’s like I’m trying to take hold of a large, wet fish.
I stagger with David to the bottom step. He leans his clammy forehead against me and gives a feeble moan. Pale. His face is so pale. His eyes are closed, his lashes flicker like a guttering candle. I strain to hold on. Do I have enough human strength to get him upstairs?
Sucking in a deep breath, I force my legs to move. My thigh muscles burn. I’m two steps from the top when I hear Faruq’s voice below me in the basement. Then Karim’s. Fear shoots through me. Frantic swear words race through my mind as I try to go faster.
A sudden angry shout adds to my haste, adding panicked strength to my legs.
The sound of a door bashing against a wall echoes. Faruq roars my name.
“Leave her alone—” Karim’s further words are drowned out by the thuds of Faruq stamping up the stairs after me.
Gasping, I tumble into the kitchen with David. He slides from my arms onto the floor. I don’t see Ted anywhere. I wish I hadn’t given him my knife.
I grab David’s arms and drag him across the kitchen. Faruq thumps upward, almost to the doorway.
“Father, stop!” Karim’s shout reverberates up the stairwell. “These people will promise not to say anything if we set them free.”
“You’re an imbecile if you believe that.” Faruq bursts into view, his eyes wild, his dark hair disheveled. “You. How dare you interfere with my plans.”
“You’re not killing this boy,” I say, sounding fiercer than I feel. At my feet, David opens his eyes a crack and whimpers. Where in heaven’s name are the police? Why aren’t they here yet?
Faruq is holding a knife. A glinting, broad one already smeared with blood. His face goes as hard as the blade, and he starts across the kitchen toward me.
“No!” Karim cries from the top of the stairs.
I jump to my left and seize a dented metal teapot from the stove. Faruq thrusts with his knife. I block. His blade clangs against the teapot, and I almost drop it from the impact. Quick as a scorpion, he strikes again. The knife grazes my upper arm. Sharp pain flares. I shriek and kick his shin with as much force as I can muster. He grunts, hobbling backward. When he advances to swipe at me a third time, I swing hard and whack his hand with the teapot.
He curses, shakes his hand, and re-grips his knife.
“Don’t hurt her!” Karim grabs his father’s shirt and hauls him backward, away from me.
Faruq twists and hacks at Karim. Bright red blood springs up across Karim’s chest. Karim gasps, wide-eyed, and I scream and throw the teapot at Faruq’s head. It hits with a clunk, bounces off, and clatters to the floor.
Pressing one hand to his temple, staggering, Faruq spins to face me. His eyes are narrowed and glassy. Lethal. I scrabble for the teapot on the floor, but he gets to it first and kicks it sideways. It crashes into a rickety table.
A few feet from me, Ted appears in the doorway to the living room. He gathers up David and lurches toward the front of the house.
Thank the blessed stars. Run! I urge Ted in my mind.
Faruq stabs at me. I duck, and his knife thunks into the kitchen doorframe, sending wood splinters flying. His ragged breath blasts across my face.
He coils to strike once more, but Karim leaps onto his back and wrestles his arm down. I kick the hand holding the knife. Faruq drops it. I try to grab its handle, but I can’t get past their thrashing bodies to get close enough.
“Stop—please, stop!” I cry as they grapple.
Faruq wrenches free and lands a solid punch to Karim’s jaw, sending him tumbling to the floor. Predator-swift, Faruq whirls toward me and spies the knife on the floor.
I don’t wait to see more. As fast as I can, I run, skidding across the living room and out the opened front door.
Close on my heels, Faruq storms after me.
Chapter 24
I burst outside and dow
n a set of steps. Two sleek cars are parked in the shade under a tree, likely Faruq’s and Karim’s. On the other side of a roadway, Ted slumps with David half behind another tree. I can’t lead Faruq toward them.
Whipping a glance over my shoulder, I see Faruq stamp onto the porch with his bloody knife.
There are only trees and grass and a large fuel tank, no other houses. I need some kind of weapon for protection.
Spying a metal pipe by the cars, I dart to it. No sooner than I lift it and spin around, Faruq is there. He slashes. I jerk back. Karim shouts from the house, but I don’t dare look his way. My arms wobble from holding the heavy pipe. I stare into Faruq’s face. His eyes are feral, as though he’s djinn-possessed.
He lunges again. I swing with all my remaining strength at his hand, yelling a hoarse battle cry. The pipe hits his wrist and sends his knife spinning into tall grasses. Faruq bellows. He clutches his hand against his side and angles toward the grass, but I swipe at him with the pipe.
“Leave it,” I say. “Get in your car and take the next plane back to Riyadh.”
“You’re as worthless as your family was.” He glowers at me, then at Karim, while he limps toward the closest vehicle. I’m not sure whether he’ll leave. I expect a trick. But before his hand reaches the door handle, a loud crunching of gravel fills the air. Two black-and-white cars roar up the roadway in a flurry of dust, lights flashing on their roofs, and come to an abrupt halt. Blue-uniformed men leap out with black pistols. They crouch behind their opened car doors and bark out loud commands that I can’t understand.
I swallow in a convulsive spasm. It’s the police, at last.
Karim calls out a rapid stream of what I assume is English. The front of his shirt is bloodstained and sweat trickles down his face. He points at David and Ted, then at me.
The police yell and aim their guns at Faruq. He grunts, throws a hostile look at Karim, and lifts his arms into the air.
I drop the pipe and sink to the ground. My arm throbs where Faruq cut it. Blood from the wound dribbles from my fingers into the grass. My head reels. My lungs don’t know what to do. Breathe, I think. Yes. It might be safe to breathe now.
A policeman aiming a pistol at Faruq rushes up and gives him a curt order. Faruq swings his hands behind his back, and the man snaps on a pair of metal cuffs. A second policeman starts searching the grass for the knife.
“Now it’s over, Father,” Karim says in our native language. “Like I said, you should’ve let that woman live. Now you’ll be tried for murder.”
Faruq gives a savage growl, though his eyes are anguished. “I didn’t know you’d betray your own flesh and blood. You’ve been a silent accomplice in all of this up until now, and believe me, I’m going to let these officers know. You’ll be extradited and sent to prison along with me.”
“We’ll see about that.” Karim eyes him with disgust and sadness. “I can’t believe you attacked Adeelah. Or me. Mother would be sorely disappointed if she could see you right now and hear what you’ve been doing for the past ten centuries.”
“Don’t talk about Zahira to me.” Faruq’s voice grows louder, more heated. “She wouldn’t be disappointed in either of us. She’d understand my desire not to give up living. She loved me with all her heart and soul. You know nothing of dedication or love. All you know is your pathetic obsession with an empty, pretty face.”
Karim curls his top lip. “You forced me into helping you entrap djinns, using Adeelah as leverage. I’m glad I won’t have to see you anymore.”
Contorting his face even more, Faruq catches my eye as the policeman leads him away. “Adeelah. Ask your sweet beloved what he’s been doing the last thousand years while you’ve been stuck in that bottle. You’ll be surprised to learn he hasn’t been alone and pining all that time.”
His words freeze my bloodstream, stop it cold. I look at Karim, who has gone stone-still.
“What…are you talking about?” My voice sounds detached, far away.
The policeman says something stern to Faruq as they reach the police car, but Faruq shouts over his shoulder in our language. “Ask your so-called devoted boyfriend about his past lovers. Ask him about Elizabeth. Or Leigh, or Hiroko.” He chuckles a madman’s laugh, so high it sounds like a giggle. “Nadine thought he was a vampire because he never aged. He was devastated when he had to leave her after forty years. Oh, and ask him about the half-dozen children he’s fathered, the unlucky children he abandoned when he moved on as an immortal.”
He continues his tirade, but I don’t hear the words because the policeman places a hand on his head and shoves him down into the car.
I stare at Karim. He stares at me. The golden-brown skin of his face is mottled. Ashen.
“I would never do that to you,” he says. “I swear, I’ve been loyal the entire time. It’s been pure torture. I lived like a monk and didn’t give much attention to anyone. He’s lying like a snake.”
“Is he?” I say, the words clipped. I don’t need extra perceptive powers to realize who’s lying in this instance. Monk, indeed. It would’ve been more believable if he said he’d been tempted by someone but resisted. This must be the reason for his discomfort when I asked him whether he’d spent the last thousand years with his father. It had nothing to do with his promises about djinn entrapment. It had to do with other females he’d spent time with.
The thought sickens me, shrivels my heart into ash and powder in one profound blast.
How could he love someone else—and then try to lie about it?
A policeman comes over to assist me. I look away from Karim and don’t look back.
* * *
I walk a quiet hallway lined with serene, pale walls. My footsteps are muted alongside a tall policeman’s. Overpowering odors of what must be cleaners and modern medicine creep into my nose. My bandaged arm throbs, though not as much as it did earlier. Luckily, the wound isn’t deep and I’ve been released from care. Karim’s chest gash needed stitches. He’s about done getting those now.
The Bandon policeman ushers me into a room ringed with plush chairs, and we sit. The place is empty except for us. In a few minutes, a blond nurse ushers Karim in. He fidgets with his keys.
“I’m going to be your translator,” Karim says to me in our native tongue as he sits. “No one else for miles around this secluded little town speaks our language. This officer will ask you questions and record what we say. They’ll check it with another translator later.”
I study the device in the policeman’s hand. I’m not eager to do this, but I’d rather focus on this task than Faruq’s latest revelation of Karim. “Let’s get this over with.”
The nurse leaves, closing the door behind her. The policeman clicks a button on his tiny machine and recites a line in English.
“Please state your name and age,” Karim translates. His gaze travels over my face, as if he’s trying to read me. I see the pleading in his eyes. Don’t hate me, his expression says.
I do my best to ignore him and concentrate on my falsehoods. That’s what this session is all about. Fabricating a plausible background so I can start my life as a human again. How odd it is to be able to lie to whomever I want now. “Adeelah Thana Naji. I’m seventeen.”
The policeman squints at my face. Karim mouths “eighteen” to me, and I amend my answer as if I’ve forgotten a recent birthday. He must be directing me to adjust my age for a reason, perhaps a legal one. I recall Nathan changed my age to eighteen when we decided to tell his friends I was living on my own.
Nathan. I wonder where he is at this moment. How disturbing it’ll be for him when he learns Faruq intended to kill his little brother. Not surprising, but alarming.
“Address of residence?”
I go blank. I’m uncertain how to answer that. “I…I can’t remember.”
“Yes, it’s been a terrible shock,” Karim hastens to say for the device, flicking a glance at the policeman. “After losing your passport last month and waiting here in Oregon for me whi
le my father arrived and mixed you up in that craziness about his immortal elixir, I’m surprised you can remember anything. No wonder you’ve forgotten how to speak English for now. We’ll just provide my Riyadh address, my love.” He recites an address for the device.
I press my mouth into a firm line. He’s rescuing me, providing answers for me. While I appreciate that, I can’t get his past lovers out of my mind. Heavens above! Not one lover, but many. And he’s had children with them, besides. I was a fool to trust him, to expect he’d wait ten centuries for me. So at this point I’m not sure I’m ready to travel back to Riyadh with him.
“No, not that address,” I say with an air of casual innocence. “We can’t use that one since I’ve never lived there, just visited a long time ago. I was born in New Jersey and didn’t start learning English in earnest until I was eleven. My parents wished to instill a strong sense of our native culture and language. I’m sure I’ll remember English again after a while, once the shock has worn off.” I recite Nathan’s address as the location I’m temporarily staying.
Karim glares at me, not daring to contradict me while we’re being recorded. He translates my words to the policeman and presents the man’s new question. “So you’re a natural citizen, and you can’t find your passport?”
“Er, yes, I’m a citizen,” I say, now immensely grateful Nathan wished for my paperwork to be drawn up while we were in the café. “Even though my parents are now deceased. But I haven’t had a passport for ages. You must be thinking of when your friend lost his, Karim.” It sounds like a passport is used for permission to enter this country from Arabia. I’ll do fine without it. If I decide to accompany Karim to his estate in Riyadh, I’ll see about getting one of those documents. But not until I make up my mind.
Karim starts to drum his fingers, but stops. “What’s your phone number?”
“I don’t own a phone.” At least that part is true.
“You can use my number as a contact,” Karim says, and recites it. “Now, please explain how my father found you and took you to the house in the woods.”
