“I’m sorry sir. I must insist that you open the door to speak with us. Or we can take this conversation down to the local police station,” Agent Strout says.
Hank chuckles. I think he’s enjoying pulling this guy’s chain. He puts his mocha colored finger on the button again. “We don’t take kindly to threats around here. Unless you are here to accuse me of a crime and arrest me, I don’t need to do squat. Now, you go on and put your warrant under the door and I’ll read through it to determine if you can insist on anything.”
“We don’t have a warrant, we simply want to ask a few questions about a young woman whom we believe lives at this address,” the flustered agent says.
Hank presses the button to speak again. “Are you trying to get me in trouble with my wife? She’d staple my nuts to the oak out back, if you implied to her I had some young thing running around here without her knowing about it.”
There’s a slight pause. “Then there is no one living here other than you and your wife?”
Mrs. Gregori has joined Hank and she wheels around him to whip the door open. No easy feat when you’re in a wheelchair. Zane quickly closes the door and locks it, but we can still hear what’s being said.
“Don’t you pay any attention to Hank. He’s like a bear in the morning when he hasn’t had his breakfast. Of course you can come in and ask us any questions you’d like,” Mrs. Gregori says with a remarkable performance of cheerfulness. “Would you like some coffee? Hank, you go on now and get these nice gentlemen some coffee instead of giving them such a hard time.”
I’d love to see Hank’s face at the moment. Actually, I’d like to see Mrs. Gregori’s as well. I’m guessing this is a rare opportunity to catch her smiling.
“Thank you, ma’am, but we won’t trouble you for coffee. We just have a few questions about a young lady who lives here,” Agent Strout says politely. “We’re looking for a Brielle Wolford.”
I hear Mrs. Gregori gasp. “Is this some kind of joke?” she asks.
“No, ma’am. I’m afraid she’s wanted for questioning in regards to several homicides.”
I must not be hearing things correctly. It sounds like Mrs. Gregori just started crying. Yup, definitely crying. Wailing is more like it.
“Did you come here just to be cruel to my wife?” Hank growls.
“I know this is difficult, but it’s important that we speak with her,” Agent Strout says, doing his best to speak over Mrs. Gregori, who now seems to be in hysterics.
“Then I hope you brought a shovel,” Hank says. Huh?
Agent Strout is confused as well. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Sir.”
“You come here demanding to see our dead granddaughter and you don’t understand?” I can’t see him, but I bet the agent just took several steps back from Hank. I know I would have. “Did you come here just to be cruel? My wife has lost her daughter and her grandchildren; don’t you think she’s been through enough?”
“Your granddaughter is dead?” I’m as surprised as the agent is.
“Yes,” Hank growls. “They are buried in the family plot out back. Are you going to torture my wife even more by digging up their bodies?” On cue, Mrs. Gregori begins to wail louder. I wonder if she was an actress at any point in her life.
“There’s no record…” the agent begins to say.
“Um, Bill,” a new voice says. Must be Agent Strout’s partner. “You’ll want to take a look at this.” Look at what? I really want to be out there. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brielle’s fingers flying on a computer keyboard at the desk in the corner of the room. I suspect a death certificate just materialized in cyberspace. She’s good. “It looks like both grandchildren died in a car crash about a year and a half ago. The grandson had a blood alcohol level of .26 and rolled the car, killing them both.”
Zane glares at Brielle who grins in response. In the other room, Mrs. Gregori doesn’t miss a beat. Through her tears, she says, “Both my grandbabies took it hard when their parents died. Zane turned to drugs and alcohol to cope.” She sniffles loudly and then blows her nose even louder.
Agent Strout sounds contrite. “We’re sorry to have troubled you.”
“I think it’s time you boys were leaving,” Hank says gruffly. “I think you’ve upset my wife enough for one day.”
“Of course. We’re very sorry.”
We hear the front door open and close. We wait several heartbeats before Zane opens the door a crack to make sure the coast is clear. Sure that the agents have gone, he opens the door wide and steps out.
“Dead? That was good, Grams.”
I turn to Brielle who is quite pleased with herself. “How did you do that so quickly?”
She shrugs. “Faking a death certificate and police report is pretty basic stuff.”
That seems unlikely. “In twenty seconds?”
She comes clean. “I have several aliases; some of them have died over the years. I just had to change the names.”
“Thanks for making me the bad guy, Lil Sis,” Zane says dryly.
Brielle’s mouth turns up in a smug grin. “It’s always the big brother driving drunk.”
My pulse is beginning to return to normal now that the danger has passed. I feel my muscles relax and am even amused by the banter back and forth between brother and sister. Until the fog begins to fill the room.
Chapter 32 – The Wife
I don’t hear anyone screaming in pain, so I must be in the veil by myself. I turn slowly, searching for Malik, but I don’t see anyone.
A musical female voice in the distance startles me. It’s definitely not Malik. “Hello, Skye.”
“Who are you?” I ask, backing up as a shadow appears to my left and is moving closer.
“I have come to help you through your transition.”
“What transition?” I stutter. She’s almost close enough to make out her features.
“Do not be coy, dear. It’s not becoming,” she says, her voice becoming less sweet with every word. Her body moves with the grace of a cobra moving in for the strike.
I continue to back up. “Who are you?” I ask again.
“Me? No one important.” She’s obviously lying. I suspect she is very important in my history with the djinn. She proves that when she says, “My husband on the other hand, you know him quite well.”
“Who’s your husband?” In my heart, I already know.
She laughs. “Poor little Skye, you really don’t remember. How difficult it must be to have forgotten so much.” I don’t think she feels sorry for me in the slightest. “You know him as Roman. He was sent to seduce you; you, the innocent babe of the Marid. It was so easy for him to manipulate you. You hardly put up a fight and allowed him to mark you much sooner than any of us initially thought you would. But now, I want my husband back. He has been among humans for too long and I am lonely. I want to feel his touch; I want to feel him in my arms again.” She’s trying to make me jealous and despite myself, I do feel jealousy flowing through me. “For that to happen, you need to take your rightful place with the saitan. I’m going to make sure you do.”
Her words push against me, burning me with their truth. “You can have your husband back. I don’t want him.”
She cackles and every hair on my body stands up. “How very generous of you to relinquish something that was never yours.”
A memory flashes into my mind. I’ve met her before. She was angry then. Angry and jealous. She’s the one who told me that Roman had used me and that it had all been a ploy to tear me away from my family. I refused to believe her and there was a struggle as I tried to leave the home Roman told me was his. Just his. She declared that she was willing to do whatever it took to keep me there and during that struggle she sliced my side open with a dagger. I pushed her from me and held my side, trying to stop the bleeding. That’s when Roman came in. He restrained her and gave me a chance to escape.
My body is tingling. I feel my neurons snapping, my muscles preparing for a fight.
My blood has begun to boil. Not with anger; with actual heat. My blood is on fire. If I don’t cool it down, I will be consumed by it.
The woman is still approaching me. I can see her clearly now. She is nothing short of dazzling, with golden skin and beautiful blonde hair that flows past her waist, brushed to a shine. She is slender but shapely, her breasts barely contained by the Grecian style gown she wears. Her eyes are a deep blue, almost purple, and her perfectly formed lips are the color of a red rose.
The fire in my blood is seeking release. If I don’t find a way to do that, I really will be consumed by it. Looking down at my hands, I see that they are now surrounded by blue flames.
The woman notices as well and stops short. Her wicked smile is replaced by a disbelieving frown. “No,” she says.
I move my eyes back to hers and I am surprised to find fear there. Her once unlined brow is now tight with worry lines as she steps back. Something compels me to take a step toward her.
The flames on my hands are growing. It is a relief to have them released from inside me, but they are not content to stay as they are. They want to be unleashed. Willing the flames away from me, they light a path to the sultry woman. She shrieks. Her dress catches fire and she turns to run. I know I can make the flames stop her, consume her, but I don’t. Instead, I will myself out of the veil.
The fog has gone and I’m back in the foyer. I fall to my hands and knees, gasping as the blue flames surround me, separating me from the others. Zane comes running into the room with a fire extinguisher and attempts to put out the fire. But this is not fire of this world and he can’t douse them. Knowing that I am the only one who can, I close my eyes and will the flames away.
When I open my eyes, five pairs are eyes are staring at me in disbelief. Turning to Roman, I say breathlessly, “I just met your wife.”
Chapter 33 – Foretold
“What the hell was that?” Hank asks with a protective hand on Mrs. Gregori’s shoulder. “That ain’t something a djinni can do.”
Roman doesn’t care about the flames. “I don’t have a wife.”
I look at him in disgust. He probably doesn’t remember her, but she’s very real. “You do. And she wants you back. Bad.”
He shakes his head. “Impossible.”
Hank buts in. “I don’t give a damn if you have a wife or not. I want to know what the hell is going on here!”
“Get in line,” Brielle mumbles looking at me with confusion all over her face. “I think Malik has some explaining to do.”
“Skye, are you okay?” Zane asks. He holds his hand out and helps me to my feet. I’m impressed that he doesn’t even flinch. I know I’d be leery to touch me right now.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I just wish I knew what was happening to me.”
“Skye…” Roman begins, but Zane interrupts him.
“I think Skye needs to sit down,” he says, leading me back to the library.
“Bring her to my sitting room,” Mrs. Gregori says, motoring herself towards the left door. She seems to have recovered from the shock of me trying to set the house on fire. “I need to look something up.”
We all turn to follow her as Hank maintains a watchful eye on me. Zane leads me to the couch so I can sit down and sits next to me. Everyone else remains standing.
Mrs. Gregori moves to the corner bookshelf again, obviously looking for a specific leather bound book. She takes one from the shelf and flips through its pages. “I don’t believe it,” she says, her eyes finding mine. She puts the book on her lap and moves her wheelchair to her normal spot by the fire. Picking up the book again, she reads, “One will come to bring peace to all djinn. She is the Protector; she is the guardian of the new race. She will bring the wrath of righteous fire to those who oppose her; leaving a trail of dead in her wake. Her fire will be judge and jury, her will unbending, cleansing the worlds of those who should never have been.”
Brielle isn’t buying it. “You think Skye’s this protector? She can’t even protect herself.”
“Because she can’t remember who she’s supposed to be,” Mrs. Gregori says, her eyes intense as she studies me.
“That’s why he marked her,” Zane says, glaring at Roman who looks as lost as I feel. “So he could control her fire.”
I don’t know what to think. I saw the fire coming from me, but a prophesized protector? I’m with Brielle on this one. That doesn’t seem to fit my personality at all. Brielle seems a better candidate for that than me.
“What does it mean, Lily?” Hank asks his wife.
“It means she’s the one we’ve been waiting for.”
“What?” I ask in surprise.
Something that distantly resembles a smile touches Mrs. Gregori’s lips. “Most hunters believed it was a myth. A prophecy written by hunters before us to keep us fighting, giving us hope. But you’re real. You are the Protector.”
I shake my head. “Impossible. I’m a med student who works at a gym. I’ve never done anything that would indicate I’m anything other than that.” Except finding out I’m not really human. No, it’s still not true. “I’m sure there are plenty of djinn who can create fire.”
“Uh, no,” Brielle says. “Electrical charges, yes. Fire, definitely not.”
I still refuse to believe it. “I thought the djinn were made of smokeless fire. That would imply that there are others.”
“Humans are made mostly of water, but I’ve never seen anyone shoot water from their fingers,” Brielle counters. Good point.
Shit. What other horrible things can life throw my way? Now I’m supposed to be the guardian who brings peace to a race of beings I know nothing about. I think I’m going to pass out from the stress on my fragile mind.
I must look a little pale because Zane gives me a concerned look. I flash a glance at Roman, who looks worried too, but I look away as soon as his eyes meet mine. I’m glad he’s not sitting next to me because I’m planning on keeping my distance from him. Those doubts I had about him all along seem to have been right on. It must be the mark that makes me feel close to him sometimes. I suspect physical proximity increases the effect of the mark.
“This explains why Malik wanted me to keep you safe,” Brielle says. “I don’t understand why he didn’t just tell me, though.”
“Because he wanted to keep her safe from me,” an extremely low gravelly voice says from the corner of the room where the bookshelves are. Immediately, four guns are drawn and pointed at him. I wish I had one too. “The moment she realized who she is, her energy became visible to me.”
Looking at the man, the only thought coming to mind is that I still can’t believe the devil has blue eyes.
Chapter 34 – The Devil
“I am afraid your human weapons will not injure me, as I am but a shadow in your world.” The man is old, very old. He’s tall, with hair the color of burnt toast and dull blue eyes that appear to have lost their light long ago. He wears weariness like a cloak that gives the feeling that he measures his age in millennia. His shoulders are stooped like Hank’s and his hands are gnarled like old tree branches. Despite all this, his presence is overwhelming. His aura fills the room in such a way that it makes my claustrophobia want to break out in hives. I get the impression that each wrinkle and line in his skin was earned by an evil done somewhere in time.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Mrs. Gregori asks, murder in her eyes.
The man looks at her briefly and then chooses to ignore her. To my great surprise, Mrs. Gregori pulls the trigger of her hand gun and seems almost as surprised as I am; like it wasn’t done on her volition. The bullet leaves the chamber, sails straight through the man and lodges in one of her books; proof that he really isn’t here. The man doesn’t even react or turn to her; instead he stares only at me. Mrs. Gregori lowers her gun in shock.
“I am not accustomed to having to wait and I have been waiting for you for such a long time. I have searched the heavens and both sides of the veil since it was put in place so
long ago. It was clever of the Marid to keep you in the dark, not divulging to you who you really are. Or perhaps they were unaware themselves. Regardless, once the knowledge was borne within you, it served as a beacon to me.”
I’m not sure what he’s getting at, but it can’t be good. “Why did you want to find me?” I ask stupidly. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that it has to do with the fact that I can shoot inextinguishable fire from my hands.
No one has said a word since the bullet was fired. Finally, Roman finds his voice. “You cannot take her.”
The man turns his eyes to him. “Ah, the Defiler. I almost forgot about you.” He inclines his head slightly. “Excellent job, most excellent. Your role was masterfully performed.” Shame swims in Roman’s eyes and he doesn’t say anything more.
Marked (The Secrets of the Djinn #1) Page 16
