by Rainy Kaye
“Genies,” I say.
She continues laughing. “Well, I guess maybe you are one then.”
For some reason, I feel validated.
***
The drive from Phoenix to Tulsa is eighteen hours. Besides refueling and getting drinks, Syd and I drive straight through: out of the bipolar desert-and-trees landscape of Arizona, all the way through the New Mexican desert, across the top of Texas, and finally into Oklahoma.
Tulsa has more green in a mile than all of southern Arizona. A wide river cuts through the city.
And I have no idea where I'm going.
I glance at Syd. “Does the GPS show any farther?”
“Kind of,” she says. “It's mapped to 'Tulsa House'. So I turned it off because we probably don't want to drop by.”
“Yeah, bad idea. Search for a hotel or something.”
She's quiet a few minutes and then says, “There's a saved location called 'divan'. It's about two hours away, outside of town.”
“What time is it?”
“After four. So the divan meeting will start anytime in the next couple of hours. Maybe we should just head straight to it.”
“Nope.”
I can feel her eyes narrow on me. An argument is growing behind her glare.
Then she sighs and falls back in her seat. “Fine, I'll stay at a hotel.”
“You're the only person who gets upset when they can't go fleeing into the middle of danger,” I say.
“Danger?” She sounds alarmed. “What danger?”
“Anytime you go prowling around where you're not wanted, there's a pretty good chance someone is going to react unkindly.”
Her expression falls. Even after the turmoil at Billy's house, she still doesn't realize what she asks of me. Her enthusiasm gets the best of her.
I reach over and rub the top of her her thigh. “I'll stay out of sight. Don't worry.”
She doesn't say anything, but puts her hand over mine to still it and links our fingers together.
***
Syd is lost in thought with her phone as we check into a hotel, eat, and shower. I start loading up to head out to the divan, and she's still occupied. Every time I glance over, though, she's just on the Google main page. Not actually doing anything.
The weight of the situation, and what she has done, is growing on her. I'm not going to push it. She said we would drop JiNet after I do a little reconnaissance, and I trust she will keep her promise.
I lift her chin and kiss her lips. Then I'm out the door before she can retract her request. This is what we came for, and she's not going to be happy until we see the divan from the inside. I will fulfill her wish. It's what I do.
The sky is already darkening. I head west on the 44 to connect with the 35 south in Oklahoma City. Outside Tulsa is more vegetation. Rows of trees to either side, layers of brush along the ground, and bursts of flowers because why the hell not. I follow the GPS as the hills steepen and eventually develop into mountains. Tall trees close in on either side.
The Mazda3 was not designed for this kind of travel, but it will manage as long as I can stay on paved roads.
Within ten minutes, I'm no longer on paved roads. Of course.
Rocks crunch under the tires. Way to make an entrance. I sit forward and try to see into the forest, but the headlights only shine so far ahead and then the world fades into darkness.
The GPS shows I'm almost up on the divan hideout. I pull to the side of the road and tap the flashlight app on my phone. Then I kill the engine. The silence is sudden and unnerving.
I'm in the middle of the goddamn forest with a gun and a phone flashlight to spy on a secret committee of jinn masters. Something tells me my experiences in Oklahoma are going to be as memorable as the ones in San Diego.
Ever onward.
I step out of the car into the cool night air, leaving the backpack on the passenger seat. Taking it will just slow me down and add to the number of ways I can knock into something while I'm trying to be quiet.
Phone held up for light, I make my way down the road and veer off into the trees. Pretty sure every horror movie I've ever seen started this way.
I pass by a small clearing of charred tree stumps. My soles crush the brush along the ground. I try to soften my step, but somehow it just sounds louder.
The ground starts to ascend. I trudge to the top, then halt and hold the light up higher. Below is a large shadowy building. A faint glow comes from the open door at the front and a window at the side facing me. The silhouettes of a dozen cars lurk across from the building.
I make my way down the hill, using one hand to catch branches for balance. Near the bottom, I pick up loud talking, but no distinguishable words. With a glance around to verify no one is skulking in the shadows, I head for the building.
I lower the phone light and slip behind one of the outward swung doors. My lungs begin to ache from the cold air. I steady my breathing and try to peek through the door crack. The interior is lit, but all I can make out is someone's back and an empty stall.
I glance up at the building again. It's a barn.
Looks like I've been sent to snoop on a hoedown.
I push down the irritation. This is Lyle's group so the only thing folksy actually going on is two thousand years of servitude. I head around the side of the building.
Light from the high window glows over the clearing. No ladder, no rope, no way to climb up to it.
I walk toward the back of the barn, ears open to any changes to the noises inside. The minute it sounds like this shindig is over, I'm out of here.
Something catches my eye. I halt, then take a step back. There's a square outline on the bottom of the wall, about three feet wide and four feet long.
I crouch down. It looks like a hatch of some kind. I place my phone on the ground and use both hands to pry the small door open. Light floods out, along with the voices. I jump to the side. My hand goes to the gun in my jacket pocket.
Except there is no gun in my pocket. I left it in the car. God dammit.
Not like I intend to shoot up the place.
No one seems to notice the hatch is open, so I dare to peek around the corner. It leads into a long wooden pen. Once upon a time, it was probably used for goats, but the pen is now empty except for some crates.
I duck through the hatch, then stay crouched down as I creep along the side. I can't see JiNet and they can't see me, but we are only a few feet apart.
The loft is straight above. The steps to the loft cover the far end of the goat pen and come out at an L-shape. I make my way toward the shadows, next to the crates.
A male voice says, “I second the notion.”
“It will be just a waste of time and confuse everyone,” a woman replies with a huff. “Just leave the houses as they are. What's the next order of business?”
“We'll put a pin in it for now. Next up, what about the Syd chick?”
I halt and listen closer.
Another man scoffs. “You mean, besides the fact I want to face-fuck her 'til her eyes are swollen?”
The group chuckles.
I grit my teeth. Laugh it up, assholes.
I'll cram the barrel of my gun down any of their throats at the first opportunity.
“Well, you boys had your chance already,” someone says.
I recognize that voice. It's Lyle.
He continues, “As soon as I get back to Los Angeles, I'll give her hot little ass a ring and let her know it just isn't going to work out.”
“Going to tell her it's you, not her?”
I think that was Tyler. Twat rat.
The group laughs again. This isn't a hoedown. It's a frat party.
“Oh, it's all me, without a doubt,” Lyle says. “Such a shame. That jinn of hers is pretty wicked. He would have made a great addition, but we got what we needed from him.”
“Yeah,” Tyler says, “but what do you make of this?”
The crowd murmurs. I need to see what's going on.
<
br /> I hurry my duck waddle over to the far end of the enclosure, to the crates underneath the steps. There is a gap, maybe two feet across, between the steps and the side of the barn. The wooden railing and a support beam obscure the gap enough that I should be able to pull myself up and over the stairs and onto the loft without being noticed. If I move fast enough, that is.
I scoot the crates into position, making as little noise as possible, and go over the steps in my head. Step up on the crates, grab the railing, pull up, and swing over.
Two seconds. I can do this in two seconds.
I wipe my hands on my jeans and take a deep breath. The group is still murmuring. I think they're distracted. Now or never.
I step up on the crates, grab the railing, and pull up. Something cracks. The rail pulls from the side of the loft. I scramble to grab the ledge. The rail teeters. I swing my leg up. The rail thuds inward. I throw myself over the side of the loft after it.
Tyler shouts, “What the hell?”
I roll off the fallen rail, into the shadows. My heart pounds in my ears. The sound is practically a hiss.
A cool breeze slithers over me. I tilt my head back to look at the open window.
Footsteps thump up the stairs. They're almost right on me.
Busted.
I do the unthinkable: I push to my feet.
Tyler halts halfway up the steps. The rest of the divan stands below, turned toward the loft. Fiona. Shadi. Lyle. Other faces I recognize, but I don't know their names.
My gaze nails onto Lyle. He's wringing his hands. My brain sticks, trying to figure out why he would do that.
“Dimitri?” Tyler sounds stunned.
I refocus my attention on him. He has a pistol in his hand, but he lowers it to his side. Everyone stares at me.
Then Fiona steps toward the loft, beckoning her jinn. “Shadi, bring him to me. This I wish.”
Zoolander over there snaps to attention. He struts through the crowd and nudges Tyler to the side as he makes his way up the stairs. His vibe is a little self-important—and overwhelmingly deadly.
I turn and bolt for the window. Without a hesitation, I'm over the sill.
Lyle's voice bellows behind me, “Fahim!”
I duck and roll into the fall, then take off into the woods. Rocks and leaves crunch under my feet as I run, making my way in the vague moonlight.
Fahim. I haven't met Lyle's jinn yet, and I really don't want to now.
My hand goes for the phone in my pocket. I fumble with it and turn on the flashlight.
My footing slips. My back hits the ground, and I skid down the hill. I reach up to grab something to break my fall, but catch nothing. Rocks cut my back where my shirt and jacket have ridden up.
I hit the bottom with a solid thud.
I force a deep breath, then push to a sit. The moonlight speckles the forest. I scan the ground for my phone, but it's gone.
The cracking of branches and leaves indicate Shadi isn't far behind me. I pull to my feet, muscles aching, and set forward. The car shouldn't be more than a few minutes away. I'll be damned if I'm going to let that playboy jinn kill me.
Something thud behinds me. I glance over my shoulder. Shadi is a few feet away.
“Come here, Dimitri.” He tilts his head and motions me over. “Let's just do this.”
His tone sends shivers up my arms, but not in fear. When I was under the genie bond, I would do almost anything I was told just to keep the hum out of my head. Somewhere in my mind, I always considered myself weak. Like a stronger genie would be able to resist.
But my father was a better genie by far, and he hadn't stood up to it either. Not even when it came time to turn over his only child. He gave me up with hardly any hesitation.
Now there's Shadi, acting like my surrender is the most practical option. Not because he's better than me, but because he knows I understand: he has the hum, and that makes him willing to go to extremes neither of us wants to see.
Every genie lives with the same resignation.
I take off, making my way through the trees. The moon does so little to light my path, and dread grows in my chest. I've lost the car.
A shadow blankets the ground ahead. I notice two seconds before I charge into it that it's a drop. A gorge. I can't see the bottom in the darkness.
I skid to a halt, then bolt to the left. Shadi reaches for me, barely misses.
I pick up my pace. He doesn't even seem to break a sweat but he stays on my trail. Like persistence hunting. I'll spend all night scrambling over the woods, and the minute I collapse, he'll just stroll up to collect me.
I will a burst of energy to put space between us. My foot catches on a log. I break my fall against a tree, then push off. I don't look back. Just keep going.
The gorge is a few yards to my right. It's my only guide that I'm not running in circles.
I shove through brush, scrabble over another log. Even with my heavy breathing filling my head, I can make out the steady plodding of Shadi's footsteps.
I slam straight into a solid block. Hands latch my shoulders. I pull back. A big guy with dark eyes stares down at me. He has black hair to his shoulders and broad shoulders. I've never seen him before, but I know he's Fahim. Lyle would have a monster of a jinn.
I jerk back and deck him in the face. My hand goes numb. He shakes his head. I dodge around him.
Up a head, a bridge stretches across the gorge and disappears into the darkness on the far side. It sways a little in a non-existent breeze. As I turn away from the bridge, headlights break through the trees beyond it and zoom into the distance.
There's a road on the other side of the gorge.
I dart onto the bridge. It swings under me. My hand goes to the rope handrail, and my body tenses, trying to balance. My shoes thud against the wooden boards. I force myself to ignore the fact I'm teetering above a bottomless abyss.
The bridges have been here forever. They're used all the time. I'm sure they're inspected. I hope they're inspected.
I urge myself to go faster. I have to get to the road. It's the only path out of these damn trees.
Something moves ahead.
I halt. A shadow strolls toward me, into the moonlight.
It's Shadi.
“How the fuck?” I snap my jaw shut and spin around to the direction I had come.
Fahim is closing in.
I was apparently going for a Darwin Award with this plan.
I swing back around and rush Shadi. He puts up his hand. I grab his arm, push back. My knee connects with his six pack. He drops without a sound.
The bridge rocks. I clutch the rail again with one hand. It feels like we're going to topple over.
I want off this ride now.
Instead, I brace myself with a hand gripping either side of the bridge and kick low and hard. Right into Shadi's ribcage. The silhouette of his body slumps in front of me. I step over him and take off. The steady thuds of my footsteps echo in the gorge.
Almost there. I still can't see the end, but it has to be coming up soon. Dear God, it has to be. I run faster.
Something cracks.
Pain shoots up my leg. I think I hit my ankle.
Then I realize I'm plummeting.
Roaring fills the chilled air around me. I pull in my arms and close my eyes.
I hit deathly cold water feet first. My lungs seize as I submerge. I need to push up, get to the surface. The water pins my arms and legs, propels me downstream. I struggle to reach out, struggle to make some motion to swim. Nothing happens.
I can't see anything, and my thoughts begin to fade. My side slams into something hard. The growing emptiness consumes my brain.
It takes me a minute to realize the horrible scratchy-sucking noise in my ear is me gasping.
I am pushed onto my side. Water burns my throat and drains from my mouth. I'm stuck, taking in air like I'll never breathe normally again.
At length, I grow dizzy, and my head drops to the ground. As my breathing soft
ens, my limbs tingle back to life. They're cold and too heavy to move.
I'm pulled over, onto my back. My eyes are still closed, and it takes concentrated effort to open them.
Someone is staring down at me.
It's her.
I fly back so fast, I hit a rock wall.
The female jinn's gaze follows me, but she seems unconcerned.
“You,” I say, voice hoarse. Apparently inhaling an Arkansas River tributary isn't a good idea. “Did someone send you to kill me?”
She stares at me from the shadows, then barely shakes her head.
I hesitate. My hair drips down my face, my clothes are soaked, my shoes sodden, but I can't take my eyes off the jinn. Partly because I don't trust her. I saw what sort of crazy weapons she wields.
But partly, I can't believe she's only a few feet away from me.
“Did someone tell you to bring me back?”
Another small shake of her head.
I swallow, my throat burning. A strange thought floats in my waterlogged brain.
“Did someone ask you to. . .save me?”
I can't think of any master whose favor I might have earned, but I'm pretty sure this jinn just pulled me out a river before I drowned.
She looks away, into the dim night around us, then back at me. She shakes her head.
I creep toward her, despite how every movement shifts my wet clothes and makes me colder. I want to see her—up close. At the moment, she's hardly more than an apparition.
She doesn't move or even flinch as I approach. I halt on hands and knees to study her. She has elongated eyes, a long straight nose, and full lips. Her hair is divided into wet strands trickling water down her shoulders. Between that and the simple white dress, I have no idea how she isn't freezing.
I trail my gaze up to meet her eyes. “What's your name?”
Her voice is almost a whisper. “Kalila.”
Without meaning to, I soften my tone: “Why did you save me, Kalila?”
She blinks and looks away. The emotion on her face isn't sadness or anger. It's pain. The kind that isn't even an expression anymore, but a feature as part of her as her rounded jaw or small ears.
I understand too well why she saved me. It was proof to herself that she can do more than just destroy.
A breeze sweeps through the ravine. My teeth chatter, and I start shaking against the cold. I sit back and work out of my jacket, but I'm soaked to my skin.
