Genie Knows Best

by Judi Fennell

  Free of Samantha.

  Actually, maybe that wasn’t a better scenario after all.

  The sun sank lower on the horizon. The time for planning was up; they needed to go. Whatever happened, happened. As long as Laszlo ended up safe in the arms of his mother, everything else would work out. That’s what Kal had to keep telling himself—even while he prayed to a higher power that he’d be able to come up with some way to make it work to their favor.

  Kal waved his hand and conjured another carpet. This one, woven of golden Muga silk with a touch of genie magic, was traditionally used only for royal processions, but for this trip, the last he and Samantha might take together, he wanted the carpet to be special. He wanted to be that Prince Charming she’d called him.

  “Come on, Sam. It’s time.” He held out his hand and crooked his knee for her to step on. “Your chariot awaits.”

  He got a smile out of her, one that touched his heart. His heart.

  Kal closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds, but it was long enough to see the future. One without Samantha. And it wasn’t a pretty sight at all.

  Somehow, she’d slipped past his ambition, wended along his dormant emotions, tiptoed among his memories, and wedged herself in the one place he’d thought would be the last place anyone would touch him again.

  But she had.

  He’d fallen in love with her. Fully, wholeheartedly in love with her.

  And now he could lose her—and the bitch of it all was that he couldn’t tell her because to do so would not only cost him his magic, immortality, and the chance to clear his name, but it would also cost Laszlo his life.

  So here he was, with the utterly shitty irony that he, who had a shot at the highest title in his world and unlimited powers, not only couldn’t grant his master’s wishes but couldn’t make any of his own come true, either.

  31

  The delta they flew over on the Rolls Royce of flying carpets was as lush as the rest of Izaaz was barren, the change so stark that Samantha couldn’t help but equate it with the turn her life was about to take.

  Not only would she never see Kal again, but Albert had played to her deepest anguish, the bond between parent and child. She barely remembered her own mother; the thought of Laszlo, scared and alone, not knowing if he’d see his mother again, tore her apart.

  And Kal throwing in the towel was even more disheartening. Samantha was racking her brain, trying to come up with some other plan, a way to outsmart Albert—and show him that she could—but Kal was already consigning the ransom drop to done-deal status.

  She’d offered a couple of alternate scenarios where they wouldn’t have to hand over the lantern, but Kal had shot down each one. The amulet was Albert’s ace in the hole and there was no way to beat it without Kal’s magic being hers to command.

  Samantha wanted to cry. She couldn’t lose to Albert. Not in this. Hadn’t he taken enough from her already? Her future, her fundamental belief in her own judgment, her faith in him? He couldn’t win. There had to be some other way to save Laszlo and still be able to keep Kal.

  The bad guy couldn’t win. Karma wasn’t that capricious… Was she?

  Samantha looked at Kal from beneath her lashes. He was seated beside her, legs stretched out in front of him touching hers, his index finger strumming softly over the back of her hand.

  He hadn’t even questioned giving in to Albert’s demands; he’d just made the decision as if he’d known she’d go along with it. It burnt her up that, by virtue of his utter lack of conscience, Albert was calling the shots. Regardless of their personal wants and desires, this was what they had to do.

  But oh, did she want. Did she desire.

  Damn, Albert. This shouldn’t be happening. She shouldn’t have to choose. Shouldn’t have to give Kal up. He was supposed to be hers.

  She shifted her weight and turned her hand over so that Kal was stroking her palm. Shivers raced up her arm.

  Kal traced a path down to the tips of her fingers, intertwined them with his, brought them to his lips, and kissed each one.

  Shivers raced elsewhere.

  “It’ll be okay, Sam.”

  She didn’t want okay. She wanted the whole thing: Albert mourning all that he’d lost, Laszlo home with his parents, and she and Kal together.

  Yeah, and that was more of a fairy tale than the life she’d been leading back in L.A.

  The carpet dipped to just above the line of palm trees flanking a rush of water that cascaded down the wall of sand and formed a river at least three city blocks wide. At the mouth sat a set of gates so beautifully and intricately carved that they could have doubled for heaven’s pearly ones—if not for the viper she and Kal were about to encounter.

  A breeze buffeted the carpet and ruffled the trees as they descended, the fronds swaying in perfect synchronicity, swirling the scents of the flowers that dotted the river bank: hyacinth, hibiscus, jasmine, gardenia, and more she couldn’t name. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see mermaids beneath the frothy surface.

  “No mermaids, Sam. Mortals haven’t yet found Atlantis so the Mer are safe there, though it’s probably only a matter of time.”

  Everything was only a matter of time—and that was running out.

  The carpet came to a gentle stop, hovering in front of the gleaming white gates that sparkled with iridescent rainbows caused by the mist covering them. The gates soared straight up for at least three stories, then curved back and ran all the way into the waterfall, locking the island away from the outside world.

  “So how does this work?” Samantha asked. “Open sesame?”

  The gates swung inward.

  “You have got to be kidding.”

  “Where do you think mortals got it from?” Kal waved his hand and the carpet floated inside, then circled around the perimeter as crisp, cold spray from the falls misted on her eyelashes. She had to blink it away.

  At least, that’s what she told herself it was, but Kal didn’t fall for it.

  He cupped her cheek and brushed a trickle from her nose. “Don’t cry, Sam. I never wanted to make you cry.”

  Never was an awfully long time when she wouldn’t see him again.

  Not wanting him to see what he didn’t want to see, she kept her gaze trained on the column of his throat where the eagle necklace rested. A bead of water trickled along the top of it, then curved over the beak and dripped onto his chest. She followed its path with her fingertips, the stone warm from his body heat. “So much for having knowledge at my fingertips.”

  “In your heart, Sam, not your fingertips.”

  “What?”

  Kal lifted the eagle. “This. The Oracle said this would remind you that the knowledge you need is always in your heart.”

  She looked up at him. “But this isn’t in near my heart. It’s near yours.” She took the stone from him. “You don’t think…”

  Kal slipped the chain over his head. “Worth a try. I know Berosus was a bit obscure—”

  “You think?” she scoffed.

  He placed the chain around her neck. “But there’s something to Oracles, Sam. If he says you’ll know what you need when you need it, now must not be the right time.”

  She wanted to know when would be the right time. Albert wasn’t even worried. Don’t try to outsmart me, Samantha; you can’t.

  How was she supposed to save a baby dragon and a genie?

  “There’s got to be some other way, Kal. Some way that doesn’t involve handing you over.”

  He lifted her other necklace, the one that held his lantern, and ran it through his fingers until the lantern rested on his palm. “We’ve been through this, Sam. Unless Albert does something foolish with the amulet and we can get hold of it, our only chance is if he does something directly to you while I’m still yours. Then all bets are off.”

  Still yours.

  Kal was hers. And neither of them was talking about the genie part.

  Though there was something in what he’d said… But she
couldn’t put her finger on it. A niggling thought in her brain.

  But what good were niggling thoughts when she stood to lose Kal? She cupped his cheek. Traced his bottom lip with her thumb. Met his gaze with an intensity she hoped was as deep and true as his.

  “Kal, I…” She caught her breath; she’d almost wished that he was hers.

  If only she could.

  Actually… she could wish it. Didn’t mean she’d get the rest of the words out, but at least she’d have that.

  She smiled. “Kal, I wish—”

  The kiss was soft. Gentle. Sweet for its chasteness. Painful for the longing it summoned.

  She speared her hands through his hair and held him closer. Slipped her tongue into his mouth and leaned in to him, needing more.

  Kal swept a hand across her cheek and stroked beneath her chin, a light, feathery touch that called forth more shivers.

  Samantha leaned forward, curling her legs beneath her to kneel into him but Kal gripped her upper arms and tugged her back.

  “Don’t, Sam. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  She didn’t think it was possible to make it any more difficult. But she sat back down, dashed the “mist” from her lashes, and nodded. “I guess we should get it over with.”

  “Yeah. It’s almost sunset.” His voice was husky as he waved his hand again and the carpet sailed over the crests of the small waves toward the island.

  The pink sand beach gave way to grass so green it almost hurt to look at it, springy and soft, like a perfectly manicured golf course. A paradise. That was about to be polluted by Albert’s greed.

  Kal stopped the carpet at a low wall made of seashells and held out his hand when he climbed off. “We’ll walk in from here. Once it’s done, take the carpet and go back to Maille’s home. Deliver Laszlo and then find Kismet. I want you out of here before he gets any other ideas, okay?”

  “I wish—”

  He kissed her again, and this time, she wouldn’t let him end it quickly. This time, she needed to feel his arms around her. Needed to know that he’d miss her as much as she’d miss him. Needed to know that he cared.

  She almost said the words but stopped herself. What good would it do? He’d be gone, and she’d, well, she’d be gone for good eventually. One mortal lifespan was nothing when compared to four thousand years.

  She’d like to think her lifespan would mean something to him, but she was done deluding herself. Albert had opened her eyes to the truth, and the truth was that even if Kal did care for her, there was nothing they could do about it. Acknowledging it would only make the situation harder.

  One last lingering taste of his lips and Samantha pulled away. Her fingers slid from his hair, caressed his cheek, touched his lips.

  He kissed them once. Twice.

  She placed them on her heart just as the sun slipped below the horizon.

  “It’s time.”

  32

  They entered a forest of tall reeds with trunks as thick as marble pillars and stacked so tightly in circular rows around a clearing that not a bit of outside world peeked through. Luckily, the fireflies flickering among the reeds provided enough light until a blanket of stars spread across the sky.

  And, now, a half hour later, there was still no sign of Albert.

  Kal conjured a pair of ottomans for them to sit on—poufs, he’d called them—and sparked a fire in a stone ring by the entrance to the glade. He waved his hand and a table with bowls of delicious-smelling stew appeared in front of them.

  “What’s this?” Samantha asked. Not that she cared; she was famished. It’d been too long since she’d eaten anything that constituted a real meal.

  “Fesenjan.” Kal handed her a spoon. “It’s one of my favorites. Your father liked it, too. I whipped it up for him occasionally.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I recognize it now. It was on the menu for his life celebration.” Which seemed so long ago. Funny how a lifetime could happen in days.

  Well, not so funny, given what was about to happen in a few minutes.

  “Do you think he’s going to show?” She took a bite of tart chicken in pomegranate broth. “What if he doesn’t?”

  “He will. He won’t let this chance get away.”

  “Good to know you’re a smart genie.”

  Samantha dropped the spoon and the stew splattered all over her. But that was the least of her worries since Albert had materialized in the middle of the clearing.

  Kal went right on eating.

  “Problem with your manners, genie?” Albert set the cage he carried down behind his legs.

  Samantha squinted, trying to see if Laszlo was inside, but Albert had draped something over the cage. Looked like tinfoil.

  Kal took another spoonful of stew and cleaned up her outfit. Then he patted his mouth with one of the cloth napkins he’d conjured and took a sip of the mint tea that followed two seconds later. “Me? Problem with my manners? Not unless you consider civility a problem. Oh, but then, I guess you do.”

  “You think you’re so smart.” Albert tapped his shirt pocket, and the next thing Samantha knew, he was standing in front of the table. “Let’s not forget who holds the power here.”

  Kal waved his hand and Samantha found herself in the most comfortable chair she’d ever seen. Down-filled and silk-covered, it floated two feet off the ground and cradled her back as if it’d been made for her—or conjured for her.

  “Yes, let’s not forget,” said Kal, wiping the corner of his mouth again, and the chair descended until her feet touched the grass.

  Albert got a look on his face like the time he’d eaten bad clams on the Sheridans’ yacht. She wished he’d suffer through the same sort of torture he had then. If only she could wish.

  “We all know why you’re here, genie, so this posturing is doing you no good.” Albert faced Samantha and leaned on the table in front of her. “Hand over the lantern.”

  She drummed her fingers on the armrests. “Hand over the dragon.”

  Albert scowled. “You really aren’t that bright, are you? I mean, I always thought you were a little dense—which worked to my advantage—but you really don’t get it, do you? You don’t have any bargaining power, Samantha. If you want the dragon, you’ll do what I say or you won’t get him back. And I say hand over the lantern.”

  “How do I know you have him? And what’s to prevent me from having Kal take him from you?”

  Albert smiled then and the look slithered through Samantha’s system in the same way the clams must have done to him.

  “If you could, you would’ve already done it. I know, Samantha. I know all about your stupid wish. Only you could do something that idiotic and play right into my hands.”

  The reality of his contempt stung. “You really don’t like me, do you? How could you ever think to marry me if you hate me so much?”

  “I don’t hate you. In order to do that, I’d have to feel something for you. I don’t. Your biggest attraction for me was your bank account and the company. Then I overheard your father talking about the genie, and, well, the company’s chump change now. I want more, and thanks to your boneheaded move, I’ll get it. So hand over the genie or the dragon dies. And there are a lot more where he came from. Don’t think I can’t get them.”

  Kal was seething. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Albert hadn’t threatened Samantha. The words he’d used hurt, Kal could see that, but she wasn’t in any physical danger. What he wouldn’t give to tear this guy apart.

  What about your reputation? The title? The position? Would you give those?

  For half a second he considered it, but the only way to give all of it up at this moment was by renouncing his powers which would be pointless since he needed them to hurt the prick—and make sure the prick didn’t hurt Sam.

  Catch twenty-two was a worse number than the one thousand and one he’d been cursing for the past two thousand years. Kal really hated having his hands tied.

  He looke
d at his hands, at the silver cuffs that defined him and held him captive. If they were the gold cuffs of a full-fledged genie, he’d have a lot more options, but these restricted his magic. Only if Albert attacked Sam could Kal act, and the shitty catch twenty-two now was that he couldn’t manifest a situation where Albert would go after her because genies couldn’t knowingly put their masters in danger. The cuffs might as well be manacles for all the power he could summon.

  If only she’d given him his lantern. If only Harv had allowed her to finish that sentence.

  All the “if only”s wouldn’t change reality. He had to find some way to get that amulet, either before or after Albert became his master. Preferably before.

  Albert tapped his shirt pocket again. He reappeared in the middle of the clearing and lifted the tinfoil-covered cage.

  Kal hid his chuckle. That explained the burn mark on Albert’s pants leg. “Way to go, Laszlo,” he said beneath his breath.

  Laszlo must have heard him because the little guy raised his head and hopped to his feet—all four of them. A dragon, not a wyvern, but his face was all Bart. There was no doubt who Laszlo’s father was.

  “Here he is, just like I said.” Albert held the cage out in one hand; in his other, he held a knife. And it was close enough to Laszlo to do major damage. “Now hand over the genie, Samantha.”

  Sam looked at Kal, stricken, and he plastered what he hoped was an encouraging smile on his face, but inside he was seething. And aching. He didn’t want it to end this way, but unless he could get that amulet, they didn’t have any other choice—and neither did Laszlo.

  Kal sighed and nodded at her. Samantha slipped the chain over her head. The copper sparkled in the starlight as his home, his future, his whole life, rested on her palm.

  In all his four thousand years, Kal had never felt less in control than he did at this minute. Even at his sentencing, he’d known the consequences of removing his cuffs. Had known them before he’d removed them. He’d been willing to take the risk once Faruq had stolen his job so he could leave The Service that no longer held anything for him but endless loneliness, but this… He wanted nothing to do with this. But he was bound by The Code he’d sworn to adhere to.