by Emma Holly
Wow, she thought. Get a grip on yourself.
She snapped back to the present with a soft gasp.
“Something wrong?” Iksander asked.
She shook her head, reluctant to explain. She knew what had happened. She’d seen the other reality, the one Luna allegedly erased. Not so allegedly, she guessed. Until now, she hadn’t realized—not viscerally, anyway—that Iksander’s claim was true. The woman Georgie knew as Alma had traveled back in time to mess with her life. Someone she’d lived with for years actually commanded that sort of power. Connor had never implied he could do it, and he was an angel.
Were they crazy to think they could thwart the empress in anything?
“I’m okay,” she said, determined not to succumb to doubt. “Just having butterflies. You go ahead and chant or whatever you’re going to do.”
The sultan snorted as if she’d amused him. “I hope you’re not disappointed. My style of magic isn’t elaborate. Why don’t you close your eyes and relax?” He rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs, silently soothing her. “That’s it. You’re doing perfectly.”
A hum of power sprang to life in her finger bones, the magical connection between them strengthening. She’d never partnered like this with Connor. He always let her do charms by herself. Working with Iksander felt oddly natural—sensual, to be honest. Her arms grew warmer, her shoulders, the buzz rolling full length down her body.
Maybe he felt it too. When he spoke, his voice was lower.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to pull some energy from you. Not a lot. Just enough to activate my power more.”
Whatever he was doing gave her a small head rush. She tensed automatically. Should she trust the djinni to do this? Connor did. He sat calmly on the couch with the cat cradled on his chest. Then again, Connor trusted more easily than she did.
Najat would want me to, Georgie thought. She forgave Iksander, and his people were hers too.
“It’s okay,” he said, seeming to sense her apprehension. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”
She rubbed his knuckles the way he was rubbing hers.
No half measures, she thought. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing all the way.
Oddly enough, she couldn’t remember whether Jerry or Alma had taught her that.
IKSANDER’S ENERGY INCREASED the instant she dropped her guards. He almost felt like his normal self, in the original body his Creator had fashioned. Naturally, his magic wouldn’t switch on that easily. He had more, though, enough to power his spell. Before it slipped away, he concentrated and leaned over the mirror tray.
“O Lord,” he prayed. “How wonderful is Thy all-seeing eye! If it does not offend Thee, show me the friends I seek. Thank You always for sharing Your gifts with me.”
He repeated the words, rolling them together like waves lapping at a shore. The vintage mirror began to cloud, not from his breath but a vision approaching. He released his prayer and relaxed utterly. The glass cleared, the symbol he’d drawn in Georgie’s lipstick melting and reforming.
Between one blink and another, a long flat rooftop appeared. Though it was night, light rayed out from a magic portal located on its end. The interdimensional door flared brighter. A person burst through the glare, followed shortly by a second. Iksander identified Joseph the Magician and his master Arcadius. His friends staggered and then stood, their breath puffing white in the frigid air. They were all right. Alive and well and only just arrived. Iksander hadn’t received their coded message because they hadn’t sent it yet. As he watched the distant figures, Joseph pointed toward the broad building’s edge. Iksander’s gaze tracked the same direction. He saw a skyline so iconic anyone who’d viewed human television would recognize where they were.
This is correct, he nearly heard Joseph say. We have reached Manhattan.
I arrived too, Iksander wanted to call, but of course they wouldn’t hear.
The images winked out, leaving the mirror a mirror again. Relieved he’d seen as much as he had, Iksander closed his eyes and gave thanks.
“Was that all right?” Georgie asked when he opened them. “Did you see what you needed to?”
“I did. My friends are safe, simply tardier than expected. I’m sure we’ll link up soon and coordinate a plan to help our people.”
“Good.” Her hands squeezed his, which seemed to make her aware she was still holding on. “Um, is it okay to let go now?”
“Perfectly okay,” he said, releasing his grip as well.
Georgie stood up and swayed. “Whew. That took it out of me.”
Connor jumped up from the couch to steady her.
“I’m all right,” she assured him. “That was a little like giving blood.”
Free now, the cat jumped excitedly on her circle and scattered salt everywhere.
“Sheesh,” Georgie laughed. “Anything that makes a mess entertains him.”
“It’s the noise,” Connor said, watching Titus bat more away. “And the sliding. No feline could resist it.”
They reminded Iksander of parents, exasperated but amused by a child they loved. His consciousness of being a third wheel returned.
“I will leave you now,” he said. “Thank you for help.”
“Maybe you should stay,” Georgie said, surprising him. “If Luna knows you’re here, you’ll be safer inside Connor’s wards.”
“Yes,” the angel agreed, after a pause so small Iksander might have imagined it. “You have information now. I’m sure you want to protect it.”
“We have extra air mattresses we keep for dressing beds in the shop. They aren’t fancy, but they’re better than the cot at Hamilton Salvage.”
Georgie knew about that, did she?
“You’re a sultan,” she added. “That’s like a foreign dignitary. I feel like we should make you a little comfortable.”
Iksander’s eyes widened. “The other you said something similar to me.”
“So Alma . . . Luna didn’t totally steal my manners. Say you’ll stay. Titus likes you. He’ll enjoy having someone new to curl up with.”
He knew this wasn’t about the cat, though what her invitation meant exactly he couldn’t say.
“I . . . gratefully accept your offer,” he replied.
AS CONNOR AND GEORGIE readied a spot for their guest to sleep, Connor felt off balance. Normally, he enjoyed helping people. Tonight, he couldn’t shake uneasiness.
Georgie and the sultan had a true connection.
They’d worked the spell together as if they’d done it many times. Georgie’s suspiciousness toward Najat’s spouse had nearly disappeared. Connor should have been happy for her. Forgiveness lightened burdens few benefitted from carrying. Despite knowing what he ought to feel, Iksander’s mention of similarities between Connor’s Georgie and the Georgie in the other timeline disturbed him.
The corners of his mouth turned down as he found clean sheets in a partially unpacked box. If Luna hadn’t turned back time, it seemed plausible Georgie and Iksander would have formed a relationship. Was that supposed to happen? The empress wasn’t a good person by anyone’s standards. She’d created the reality in which Connor and Georgie fell in love. Connor recalled the night he first met Georgie as what she called a marsh light. Her mother’s ghost had just left, claiming Georgie didn’t belong at Ravenwings, that she wasn’t safe there and ought to leave.
Did this mean Georgie and Connor’s bond was wrong?
Were the things the empress stole from Georgie better than her current reality?
“There you are,” Georgie said, sticking her head in their bedroom door. “The mattress is inflated. We’re ready for the sheets.”
“Coming,” he said, moving to carry them to her.
She must have seen the remnants of his thoughts in his face, because she rubbed his arm. “What’s the matter? Do you not want Iksander to stay with us?”
Connor shook his head. “He is safer here.”
She reached up to stroke his cheek. “You don’t look
happy.”
Connor swallowed. “Georgie, what if you and I aren’t really meant to be?”
“Oh sweetheart.” She touched him with both hands now. “We chose to be. And we’re lucky to be. You’re the one who taught me how important choosing is. Whatever Luna changed or tried to change, she couldn’t take that away.”
His mood lightened a fraction. “That is true.”
“And I’m still me, still the same soul no matter what the outer trappings of my life.”
“The djinni’s observations do seem to support that.”
She smiled. “So maybe Luna did me a favor without intending to.”
“Absolutely without intending to,” he said ruefully. “Georgie, if you need my apology for working with her—”
“I don’t.”
“But—”
“I don’t,” she repeated. “I’ve had a chance to think about this. I love the being you are, the same way that you love me.”
His love for her swelled, the joy that was his natural state expanding. “I do love you, Georgie. With everything I am. I’m so grateful for who you are.”
“Then we’re agreed. We’re two lucky, lucky beings.”
When she grinned at him, everything seemed right again.
GEORGIE’S PREDICTION about the cat proved correct. Titus did indeed find Iksander’s bed worth investigating. The creature sniffed his face, demanded his due of petting, then crawled underneath the covers to curl up behind his knees. Though Titus was a comfort, his presence didn’t send the sultan to dreamland. He was too aware of his unusual circumstances.
Back home, if the tragedy hadn’t happened, right about this time, his personal servants would be setting out his carafe of water—magically chilled to keep his preferred temperature. Specks of dust would be spelled from his chandeliers, impurities removed from his hot bathing pool. Tailors would ensure his robes for the following day were immaculate. Soothing music or incense might drift through the corridors. A book could be read to him or a masseur summoned. Truly, when events of the world allowed, a city ruler’s life was blissful.
Iksander pursed his mouth wryly.
If his retainers could see him now, wearing borrowed clothes in a borrowed bed, sharing warmth with an animal, practically sleeping on the floor . . .
Not to put too fine a point on it, he was a charity case—indebted for everything to the kindness of others. He’d known, intellectually, that a portion of his citizens lived that way. Now he was experiencing it, if less harshly than many did.
This has been a cakewalk, he told himself. Pray you don’t forget it if you get home.
That thought sent his breath gusting.
He still didn’t know how he’d manage a return. He didn’t even know if he could contact Arcadius and Joseph without Luna finding out. Maybe doing nothing was the best plan. Keep the empress busy toying with him and trust his friends to work out a solution. Joseph was amazingly clever, and Arcadius never quit a mission. Iksander hated the idea of simply waiting, but maybe he’d have to.
He sighed again and turned onto his back, taking care not to squish Titus in the process.
Though he’d lain awake during his previous stay with Georgie, tonight was different. Tonight, she and the angel occupied her bedroom. He couldn’t go in and sit beside her, nor was she likely to come out. Chances were, her extraordinary expression of forgiveness wouldn’t be repeated.
Too much had altered this time around.
The click of a door opening jolted him up on the air mattress.
“It’s just me,” Connor whispered. “I heard you tossing and turning. I thought perhaps you weren’t warm enough.”
Not comfortable letting him approach unseen, Iksander switched on the porcelain shepherdess lamp Georgie had set on the floor near him. True to his words, the angel carried a blanket. For the life of him, Iksander didn’t know what to make of Connor. Could he be as caring as he seemed? Including to Iksander?
“I am not cold,” he said, the stiffness in his manner automatic but maybe not polite. He hesitated and then went on. “My head is too full of thoughts to sleep.”
“Ah,” Connor said.
Still holding the blanket, he hunkered beside the makeshift bed. He wore pajama bottoms but not tops. He had a hero’s chest, broad of shoulder and well muscled. Ordering himself not to imagine Georgie stroking those pectorals, Iksander dragged his gaze to his face. Connor’s young-old eyes mesmerized him. As he stared into his sky blue irises, Iksander understood what people meant by ageless.
“Are you really an angel?” he blurted.
“That is my understanding of my origins,” Connor said.
“And you were in heaven. And knew the Creator.”
“I was in a place of infinite peace and joy. Nothing I experienced was separate from Him.”
“Why would you leave that if you didn’t have to?”
Connor smiled, his expression so beautiful tears stung Iksander’s eyes. “I left because heaven is here too.”
Iksander shook his head. “My people, if they can think in their current state, would disagree.”
“I have been contemplating what I’ve learned of your people. Djinn are beings whose magic can shift reality. Has it never occurred to you that the angels you believe turned their backs might have been following your cues?”
His suggestion stole Iksander’s breath with shock. “You blame your betrayal on us?”
“I am not trying to. I am only one angel, and no longer perfectly connected to my kind, but as Georgie recently reminded me, a respect for created beings’ free will is ingrained in my nature. If my fellows are like me, it may be that in cutting ties to you, they were respecting your choices.”
“Why in the Qaf would we choose to be cast off?”
“Because you felt guilty for disobeying God’s command. Because you believed He would forsake you.”
“He did forsake us!” Iksander huffed. “He put humans in our place.”
“Perhaps,” the angel said. “The Divine’s true essence is a challenge for any being to wrap its head around. I do not claim to comprehend it. I have moved away from my source. My theory is simply something to think about.”
“Oh very comforting! My people should blame ourselves for our most horrific experience.”
“Is your life horrific?” Connor asked. “Do you hate what you are?”
Iksander’s mouth fished open. He didn’t know how to express his many objections to this question. Most difficult was that Connor seemed to be asking it innocently.
“I do not hate what I am,” Iksander said once he’d found his voice. “I simply find the angel’s abandonment of my kind unfair.”
Connor rose. He began to leave but stopped and rubbed his mouth.
“Before I was given this physical form,” he said, “my body was only light. I roamed around as I wished, watching life unfold around me. Now and then a being would see me—a dog or a butterfly. Apart from infants, Georgie was the only human I encountered who could perceive me with her eyes. The ifrits at Ravenwings never did, though I often was close to them. I was there. I sent them my interest and my love, the same as I do to all. They never realized I was present, not until I received this shell.”
Iksander’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying we weren’t abandoned, that angels are still djinn’s friends.”
“I’m saying they could be. The actual truth might be beyond all of us.” He set the blanket he’d brought with him on a chair. “This is here if you want it. I’ll leave you to rest.”
Iksander stared after him, unable to speak again. He wondered if Connor weren’t the oddest of all the oddities he’d encountered in this realm.
CHAPTER TWENTY
—
WISH
Iksander woke early the next morning. He couldn’t hole up at Georgie’s even if he wanted to. He’d be expected at his job, and who knew how long he’d need to keep it? In the clear light of day, he realized staying with Georgie even one night had b
een risky. He didn’t know how constant Luna’s probable surveillance on him was.
He’d done it, though, and it couldn’t be undone. Moving one boot in front of the other was the sensible choice for now.
He hastened down Georgie’s outside steps in his borrowed clothes, aware he’d have to figure out how to wash them soon.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard Georgie call his name. To his surprise, the hail came not from her apartment but from behind Black Cat’s building. He thought he’d left before his hosts awakened.
“Iksander,” she said. “Is that you? I need a hand with a delivery.”
He couldn’t refuse to help, considering all she’d done for him.
“Hurry,” she urged breathlessly. “It’s heavy.”
He jogged around the building’s corner, where he halted in confusion. Georgie wasn’t there. A three-foot-tall, red-pink demon stood directly in front of him. A ray of morning sun hit eyes the color of emeralds.
“You’re right,” the female demon said, still using Georgie’s voice. “Sometimes simple plans work best.”
She spoke to someone behind him. Iksander began to turn. Before he could confront her confederate, something sharp pricked his butt. The immediate burning in those muscles told him whatever drug the syringe contained was contaminated with saltwater. At his strongest, he couldn’t have thrown off the effect. Taken by surprise, with barely any of his magic, he dropped paralyzed to the cracked asphalt.
He croaked out a sound a bat wouldn’t have heard from an inch away.
“Help me stash him in the trunk,” ordered a second demon—this one male. Cold hard hands, in two different sizes, snaked underneath his armpits and knees.
“Shit, Fariel, he weighs a ton,” the pink imp complained. “We might have to do a spell.”
“We don’t have time. Use your damn muscles or we’ll be seen.”
