“How does it end, Brielle?” I snap. “Do we have to kill every djinn that’s come through the veil in order for me to be safe?”
“I don’t kill them, I bind them,” Brielle snaps back. “And you tell me. What did you do to piss the djinn off and what do they want from you? From where I’m sitting, the only one who can clue us in on how this is going to end is you.”
Now I’m mad. “I’ve already told you, I haven’t done anything to the djinn,” I growl.
“Funny, I’ve been hunting them for a couple of years now and I haven’t found a dead person with my name carved in him on my doorstep; so you had to have done something big.”
“It was probably something you weren’t even aware of,” Roman interjects trying to calm things down. “Some meaningless thing to you, but unforgiveable to them.”
I can’t believe this. I’ve never done anything cruel or unforgivable to anyone. That I know of. Shit. Instead of acknowledging that Roman could be right, I fold my arms over my chest again and stare out the window.
Chapter 17 - Lore
We fall into a strained silence; my outburst and Brielle’s response effectively squashing any conversation attempts. I am so on edge now, my nerves are prickling. I have to say something, anything that distracts me from wanting to crawl out of my skin with stress and worry.
“What were you shooting at the djinni?” I ask Brielle.
She takes more time than necessary to answer me. She’s obviously still pissed about me being judgmental towards her and Roman. Eventually, she says, “Air.”
She’s going to make me work for this. “Why air?”
She scowls at me through the rearview mirror. “Because it works.”
I have to count to ten before I say anything else or I’m going to snap back at her and she’ll never tell me. One. She’s a really annoying bitch. Two. Annoying bitch. Three. Bitch. Four. I started this. Five. But does she have to be so nasty? Six. Her life is in danger because of me. Seven. Her knowledge is the only thing that may keep me alive. Eight. She’s still a bitch. Nine. I’m going to have to suck it up and deal with her on her terms. Ten. Deep breath. Apologize. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. You were right; I do need to buck up.”
Her eyes open wider in surprise. After a moment, she says, “The lower djinn aren’t really solid unless they’re in human form.”
My brows pinch together. “How does that work?” Roman has taken an interest in the conversation now. He’s leaning forward slightly so he can hear Brielle’s response. God I wish he had a shirt he could put on.
“Like I said before, there are different levels of djinn. According to the lore, the djinn were failed experiments by the powers that be that created the angels, with each level being closer to human but their magic kept them from being truly ‘humane’. So they were eventually all sent to a parallel dimension, behind the veil, to make way for humankind. The first of the djinn weren’t solid; they were made of smokeless fire. These are the lower level djinn. They have weight and mass, but their form is delicate. It’s just a bunch of molecules precariously clinging together in one area but not truly solid mass.” Of all the djinn I’ve seen so far, delicate is not an adjective I would use to describe them.
“I’m not explaining this right,” Brielle continues in frustration. “Okay, say you’re going to shoot a gun through smoke to try to get rid of it. The smoke may separate to let the bullet through, but you didn’t really get rid of the smoke. The molecules fall back into place as soon as the bullet passes. But if you put a fan in front of the smoke, you push the smoke away and the molecules blow apart.” I’m not really following her on this yet. “It’s the same principal with the lower djinn. When in their true form, their molecules will simply shift to let a bullet through, no harm done. Then, the molecules will come back together like the air does. But if you shoot air at them, it pushes their molecules forward and they are unable to fall back into place.”
She lost me at ‘the first djinn weren’t solid’. Roman is less confused than I am. “So the pressure of the air leaving the air gun pushes the molecules of the djinn too far away to fall back into place. Essentially, you’re putting holes in the djinn that won’t repair themselves.”
“You got it,” Brielle says, then gives me a ‘god you’re stupid’ look through the rearview mirror.
I give up. I go back to looking out the window, watching the sun set. Roman puts his hand on my leg but I shake it off me without looking at him.
Chapter 18 – Safe house
It’s pitch dark when Brielle turns off the winding, lonely road we’ve been on for a while and down a gravel road in a grove of pine trees. I’m not sure how she saw it; I didn’t until we were on it. Wherever this safe house is, it’s isolated.
After a few minutes, the light of a large, magnificent house finally comes into view. It’s a cross between a log cabin and a mansion; a masterpiece of wood and glass. The entire structure is difficult to make out in the dark, but I can see that it stands three stories high. Four gables protrude from the roof and there’s a deck surrounding the house around the second floor. There are large windows cut into the logs; I’m guessing to optimize light in this dense forest. At this time of night, light streaks out of them. Beautiful, but I’m not so sure how safe those windows are.
Brielle pulls up to the porch and parks the car. She gets out and motions for us to follow. I’m still in awe when I open my door and step out onto the gravel. I guess I was expecting something more rustic; like a cabin. I wonder who lives here. I sure hope they’re up for company.
Brielle walks up the steps to the large front porch decorated with an antique rocking chair and a planter with a long dead plant, and slips a key in the door lock. Turning the handle on the windowless door, she pushes it open. And comes face to face with the wrong end of a shotgun. One that doesn’t have an orange tip. I guess they’re not up for company.
“Brielle, watch out,” I shout.
She turns and gives me a wry look. “Thanks for the sage advice.” Then to my surprise, she puts her hand on the end of the gun and pushes it down. “Get that thing out of my face before I cram it down your throat.”
“Jesus, Brielle,” the owner of the gun says. He’s still in the shadows so I can’t see his face yet. “You scared the hell out of me. You know you’re supposed to call first. I could have blown your fucking head off.”
“Please,” Brielle scoffs. “Even at this range you would have missed. You suck with guns. And I had to ditch my phone.”
The guy laughs and comes out of the shadows to lean against the door jamb with his arms crossed over his chest; the gun now propped against the door. “Who are these guys?” he asks, nodding towards Roman and me. “It’s not like you to travel with a posse. And why doesn’t that dude have a shirt on?”
The guy can’t be much older than Brielle; definitely in his early twenties. He’s dark haired and has at least two days of stubble on his strong, handsome face. He’d probably look eighteen without it. His build is lean and muscular, even if it’s not quite a match for Roman’s. He certainly fills out the skinny jeans and t-shirt he’s wearing quite well, though. The appraising look he gives me, starting at my eyes and working his way down and back up, tells me he appreciates the way I’m filling out my borrowed clothes as well. When he reaches my face again, he’s grinning.
“Quit eye fucking her,” Brielle says, “and get out of the way so we can actually go into the house.”
Roman stiffens next to me. A fact that doesn’t go unnoticed. “Dude, relax. If she’s yours, I’m just looking. If she’s not, well then I’ll have to arm wrestle you or something.”
Cocky little fuck. “Yes, because I’m a piece of ass that can be passed around on a cloud of testosterone, going from one dumb ass to the next without a single thought or opinion of my own. Funny, Brielle didn’t mention the caveman living here; probably because she wanted to block you from her memory.”
He’s amused by my little tirade
. “Damn, sis, you sure know how to pick friends. She’s completely killed my hard on now.” Sis? He’s Brielle’s brother? His personality is starting to make sense now.
Brielle puts her hands on his chest and pushes him out of the way and strides inside. “I never said they were my friends,” she says without looking back at us.
I guess we’re supposed to follow her inside. Her brother confirms that by swinging his arm in a ‘come on in’ way. Roman waits for me to go first. I walk past the amused grin and catch myself smiling back. I have to admit, her brother may be an ass, but he’s sexy as hell with his laid back, I’ll sweep you off your feet with my obnoxious but charming wit and arrogance.
The way Roman puts a hand on the small of my back as we enter means he picked up on my thoughts. That’s annoying. I’m not his. One kiss that was merely for the sake of keeping me grounded does not mean he can be a jealous ass. I push his hand away and stride into the house. I don’t miss the chuckle from Brielle’s brother as he closes the door behind us.
Chapter 19 – Mrs. Gregori
If the outside of the house was a shock, the inside is even more so. The large foyer encompasses a staircase made of solid oak that winds around a huge elevator cage made of brass. To the left and right are doors that are closed and a long hallway behind the stairs that I suspect leads to the back of the house. Brielle heads to the door on the left.
We follow her into a room that is in strict contrast to her personality. The room couldn’t be more feminine with its dusty rose carpet and long, cream colored drapes with a pretty floral print. There is a massive fireplace with an oak mantle displaying several vases of fresh flowers at the far end of the room and the large, plush sofa and chair facing it are both a soft cream color.
Sitting in a wheelchair by the roaring fire is an elderly woman. Her long gray hair is pulled into a loose bun and her heavily lined face is grim when she looks up from her knitting. “It’s not like you to not to call before you come. You could have gotten yourself killed,” she says with a strong southern accent. Her voice is gravelly with age and I suspect years of nicotine inhalation.
Brielle smiles and kisses the woman on the cheek. “Sorry, Grams. Things are a little crazy, but I’ll get them straightened out.” This is her grandmother? It’s beginning to sink in that this isn’t really a safe house; this is her family home.
Her grandmother shakes her head. “I worry like crazy about you. You take too many risks. I’ve already lost your mother; I’m not ready to lose you, too.”
Brielle grins down at her. “I’m too stubborn to die, Grams. You know that.” I believe her.
Her grandmother doesn’t. “You get that notion right out of your head before you start making even stupider decisions about your safety. Now, introduce me to these people you dragged home with you.”
I am suddenly very self-conscious. Roman is too. I can tell by the way he crosses his arms over his chest that he really wishes he had a shirt. I look at Brielle’s feeble grandmother and I feel terrible we brought our problems to her.
“Malik sent me to rescue her,” Brielle says, pointing at me, “and he tagged along for the ride.” She points at Roman. “It’s been nothing but a pain in the ass since I met them.”
Her grandmother swats at her. “You mind your language young lady before I send you outside to cut a switch to beat your bottom with.”
Brielle is more amused than chagrined. “Wait ‘til you’ve been around them for a while. It won’t be me you’ll want to take a switch to.”
I still hate her. I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Approaching her grandmother, I hold out my hand. “Hello, my name is Skye Rowan. I’m so sorry we’re intruding this way. Your granddaughter is helping us with a situation and we hope to be out of your hair as soon as possible.”
The woman looks at me for a moment without taking my hand. I let it fall back to my side. “You’re the one on the news,” she says. “They say you got kidnapped by a doctor. You don’t look kidnapped to me.” Her eyes move to Roman. “Shirtless wonder must be your supposed kidnapper?”
Color is flushing Roman’s cheeks. “I have been with Skye since she left the hospital, yes. My name is Roman Palis.”
Turning to Brielle, her grandmother says, “Get that man a shirt. How’s a person supposed to think with all that skin gleaming in the fire light. On second thought, have Zane get him one and you sit your fanny down and tell me what’s going on.”
Brielle nods and walks to the door. She opens it and instead of walking through it, she bellows into the foyer, “Zane, Grams wants you to get a shirt for Doctor Muscles.” She closes the door and walks to the chair across from her grandmother and plops down without a second glance at us, so we take a seat on the sofa.
“Basically, the djinn want her dead. They want her dead so badly they’re willing to risk exposure and kill innocent humans to get to her. Malik asked me to save her, but he didn’t give me all the details this time.” Storm clouds gather in her eyes as she says this. “The doc’s just along for the ride. I couldn’t shake him at the hospital.”
Brielle’s grandmother turns her dull blue eyes in my direction. “You’re a tiny thing to have caused such a big mess. What did you do to get the djinn after you?”
I’m really starting to hate that question. “Nothing,” I say.
She snorts, which turns into a coughing fit. When she’s finally able to catch her breath, she says, “Bullshit.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Brielle mutters.
“Ms…” I realize I don’t know her name.
“You can call me Mrs. Gregori.” The fact that she is not willing to have us on a first name basis makes me feel even more unwelcome. Though maybe she’s just old fashioned.
“Mrs. Gregori, I swear to you – I have never done any harm to the djinn. I may have somehow slighted them without my knowledge, but I have no idea how that could have happened. I feel like the djinn drew my name out of a hat and said ‘let’s kill her today’.”
Her eyes narrow. “I spent my whole life hunting the djinn. I’ve found it’s the guilty ones who profess their innocence by claiming ignorance.”
It’s official, I hate the whole damn family. “In this case the opposite is true. I am innocent. And ignorant.”
“I could help you out with that,” a masculine voice behind me says. I turn to glare at Zane who has brought a shirt for Roman.
“You watch your mouth before I wash it out with soap,” Mrs. Gregori says. The feigned look of horror on Zane’s face makes me laugh despite my annoyance, which earns me a dirty look from Mrs. Gregori and Roman.
He tosses a light blue t-shirt to Roman. “Try not to stretch it out,” he says. Then he plops down on the sofa between Roman and me. Stretching his arms across the back, he says, “So, what’s the story. Are they staying? If so, I’d be more than happy to share my bed.” He grins at me making it perfectly clear what he is implying.
“I would be more than happy to sleep right here,” I say with a significant glance in his direction. He just laughs.
“Mrs. Gregori, you said you’ve been hunting djinn your entire life yet Brielle says she only learned of their existence a few years ago,” Roman says. Good point.
Mrs. Gregori nods. “When their mother ran off with their father, she chose to turn her back on her family and chose to ignore the existence of the djinn. You see where that got her.”
“Grams didn’t even know about us until I started digging into our family history for clues as to why the djinn would have attacked our parents. Growing up, Mom never talked about her. We thought she was dead,” Brielle explains, bitterness resounding in her words. “But I tracked her down and she’s been living with us ever since.”
That explains the stark contrast in demeanor between her and Brielle and Zane. They both seem comfortable in the house but Mrs. Gregori, for lack of a better term, seems too rough to have lived the life this house would imply. I suspect nothing about her life has been easy. S
he has that harried look in her eyes of someone who has worked too hard and seen too much.
Brielle sits up and leans her elbows on her knees. “I didn’t know what else to do with them, Grams. For some reason, it’s really important to Malik for Skye to be safe, but I’ve never seen the djinn act this aggressive before. They are totally foregoing their low profile behavior. They stormed the hospital with guns; they openly attacked us in broad daylight. They also killed…” Brielle stops to take a deep breath, showing emotion for the first time over the death of an innocent man. She’s not as heartless as she claims to be. “They killed a human by carving Skye’s name in his gut and letting him bleed out in the middle of the road, and then attacked us again when we stopped to try to help the guy. They’ve never acted like this before.” Mrs. Gregori lets that information sink in with a scowl.
Marked (The Secrets of the Djinn #1) Page 9
