Robert made a sound in the back of his throat, but said nothing. Andy’s lazy eye danced in its socket, making Robert wonder why he didn’t just use magic to fix it. Maybe he just had no interest in looking normal.
There was a quick blur of movement behind Andy. The cage swung widely as someone landed on his back and clung to his skinny neck.
“Gotcha!” A massive arm squeezed Andy, trapping his head in a lock. The arm belonged to a bulky half-djinn with sunburned skin that looked almost brown against Andy’s pasty complexion. He had thick pork-chop sideburns, and a thin ponytail running down the back of his balding head.
“Damn you, Mack,” Andy cursed and let go of the bars.
Robert looked over the edge and watched Andy and Mack fall. Before they hit the concrete floor, Andy morphed into a small, tabby cat and leaped onto a crate. Mack went up in smoke and materialized next to Andy in the shape of a huge Rottweiler. The tabby jumped on the dog’s face, and both animals rolled off the crate, hissing and growling.
Robert’s eyes took in the scene below. Sickened by what he saw, he immediately pulled away, disgust rising up his throat. Sodom and Gomorrah had nothing on the decadence and vileness of these creatures.
“No!” a woman’s scream. “No, please. Let me go.”
Robert covered his ears and ground his teeth.
What would the world come to left in the hands of these monsters? Had they forgotten so quickly that they’d been human only days before?
“Silence!” Akeelah’s voice boomed through the expansive metal building.
The noise died down to nothing. Robert imagined that if he tried hard enough, he could hear mice scampering inside the crates.
“Oh, no. Please, please, please.” The woman again.
Biting his closed fist in rage and impotence, Robert felt he might go insane too.
“Get rid of all these vermin. Now!” Akeelah ordered. “How many times do I have to say I don’t want them here?”
The woman’s cries stopped, and Robert knew the woman was gone—vanished into nothingness, most likely. During his short imprisonment here, he’d seen them evaporate people, shrink them, dismember them, and all manner of unimaginable things, like a cruel child might do to an old doll.
“Everyone, begone!” Akeelah exclaimed. Silence returned. “Much better this way.”
It took but a snap of her fingers to send her army into an assortment of glass bottles stacked out of reach on top of a crate. Robert daydreamed about taking a bat to them and smashing them to dust, but he knew it couldn’t be that easy. He also knew that when Akeelah decided to release her half-djinn again, they would be even more deranged.
“Have you found Frank yet?” Akeelah asked Vic, her remaining human henchman.
Robert wasn’t sure who Frank was, but apparently he owned this warehouse.
“Nope,” Vic said. “The bastard disappeared into thin air.”
“So disappointing. I had a pretty bottle reserved just for him.” Akeelah paused, then asked, “What about Gallardo? Where is he?”
“Not back yet. I guess he hasn’t tired of humiliating his Oxford colleagues, yet. Anything I can do for you?” This was the man named Vic, one of the despicable humans who were willingly helping Akeelah. The other one was Gallardo, of course, a lunatic if there ever was one. He’d been the one who gave Akeelah the secret to create her army of monsters, all to get revenge on his professional colleagues who had ridiculed his theories on the existence of Djinn.
Akeelah let out an unhappy grunt.
Slowly, Robert moved to the edge of the cage and peered down.
In a far corner, Vic sat on a mountain of colorful pillows, all arranged around a bejeweled throne. He was cleaning a large pistol with a small rag. Gossamer curtains hung suspended around their harem-like space. Akeelah paced restlessly, her bare feet falling silently on a turquoise Persian rug. Her long, white hair whipped behind her like the tail of a caged beast. Her gait was predatory and lethal. It was hard to believe she didn’t have the power to physically hurt anyone herself.
“We need a change of plans,” Akeelah said.
“Do we?” Vic pulled the magazine out of his pistol, blew on it and wiped it with his rag.
“Chasing humans out of their filthy mole holes could take years.”
“There are other ways to exterminate a lot of people at once. Nuclear weapons, poison in the water supply, deadly viruses, starvation. The sky is the limit when you have magic on your side.”
Akeelah sat on her oversized throne. “How many atomic bombs would it take to kill everyone?”
Vic tapped his temple with the tip of the gun and thought for a few seconds. “To be honest, I don’t know. You’d be able to clean up all the radiation afterward, right?”
“I suppose. I have never had to deal with radiation, whatever that is.”
“Scratch that. I want to be sure I’ll be able to live somewhere. Okay, how about poisoning the water supply in every major city? That should take care of almost everyone. There would be people left here and there, but that’s acceptable.”
“If you don’t mind the stench of rotting corpses, I could have them do that.” She pointed dismissively toward the crate with the glass bottles.
“Rotting corpses?!” Vic asked.
Robert felt his hatred for the man intensify. How easy it was to spread death when you didn’t have to deal with the nasty side effects.
Vic made a sound in the back of his throat as understanding dawned on him. “I really wish you were a touch more powerful. I guess you’d still have to go from door to door—or at least neighborhood to neighborhood—making bloated bodies disappear, right? It would be nice if you could snap your fingers and vacuum bodies up into outer space at least one country at a time. That wouldn’t take as long,” Vic rambled as he continued to clean his gun, unaware of Akeelah’s angry, red eyes.
“I suspect I would leave that enjoyable task to you,” Akeelah snarled.
Vic stopped cleaning the gun, but kept his eyes on it. He sat very still for a few beats, then resumed his fastidious task.
“I guess all the options I came up with would have that bothersome side effect,” he said. “I believe I’m fresh out of ideas.”
Akeelah steepled her fingers. “Not that I care if the world stinks any more than it already does, but this job of extermination has turned out to be rather boring.” She sounded as if she was talking about peeling potatoes, not killing people.
“Is it?” Vic asked, mildly interested. “Could be ‘cause you’re not actually doing the killing.” He laughed.
Akeelah stood. “I think it’s time for Gallardo to come back. He’d mentioned some ideas I’m willing to listen to now.”
“The fuckery inside his mind has no limits,” Vic said, sounding half-disgusted. It was like one hyena criticizing another. “I would prefer death to being a damn slave.”
Robert had to agree with that statement. Gallardo’s ideas would have made Hitler pale in horror. He wanted to cleanse the world, to leave only those he considered worthy. When only the best men and women were left, he promised Akeelah they would teach the survivors how to worship and obey her.
For all her talk of extermination, it was obvious the idea pleased her. It seemed that in the absence of God, she was beginning to think the job title fit her.
5
Marielle
Faris pulled me past the front door and closed it behind us. The foyer and hall that led from there were cloaked in semi-darkness. Candles glowed, set on small plates on the floor near the walls. The floors were covered in huge sheets of brown paper, taped down with blue tape. Dusty footprints in all shapes and sizes were stamped on the surface.
Remodeling had been underway in the plantation house when Akeelah had decided to make her reappearance. The work had understandably come to a halt.
The candle glow in the kitchen was more intense. From there, voices carried with an echo throughout the huge, empty house.
“God
, not cold canned soup again,” Abby was saying. “I haven’t had a decent meal in over a week.”
Faris and I joined everyone, just as Maven said, “Get off the counter, Samuel. It’s rude.”
Samuel, Maven’s twin brother, was sitting on the center island, feet dangling. In response, he lifted a tennis shoe onto the granite countertop and planted it there, then made himself comfortable by propping an arm on his raised knee.
“Mind your own business, Maven,” Samuel scoffed.
“Don’t be an ass—”
“Kids!” Mrs. Mora, their mother, warned.
Faris cleared his throat. Everyone went silent and turned to look in our direction.
“I apologize for the lack of furniture, Samuel,” Faris said. “The house is far from comfortable, I know.”
Samuel’s upper lip curled up, making him look like the naughty kid his mom still thought him to be. Begrudgingly, he slid off the island, paced to the far corner of the room and looked out the window into the night.
I marveled at the smooth way Faris had defused the situation, putting Samuel in his place by taking blame for the lack of proper seating. I never realized extreme good manners were an effective way to point out rudeness. I would have to try that technique next chance I got, though I might not have the caliber required to rise above others the way Faris did.
Faris continued, “Unfortunately, the restoration had just gotten underway when things went south. I am grateful, however, that this room was almost done. I understand that here in the south, the kitchen is the heart of a home.”
Samuel scoffed in his corner, but said nothing.
Mrs. Mora looked apologetic and tried to make up for her son’s rudeness. “And what a wonderful kitchen it will be once it is complete.”
“By the way, thanks for the food, Mrs. Mora.” Faris walked to the far counter where several cans of soup lay open.
“All I did was use the can opener. And please, everyone, call me Helen.” She turned to me. “How are you, sweetheart?”
I gave her a big smile and a quick hug. I noticed Javier and his family sitting on the floor where a dining table should have been. Abby sat next to Benito, slurping cold soup straight from the can. Maven walked over to them, carrying his own can, and sat next to Abby.
“Here.” Faris handed me a can of chicken and rice soup.
He grimaced. “I would eat one in solidarity, but I think we should conserve as much as possible.” He didn’t need to eat, which at a time like this, was extremely lucky.
“Come sit here, y’all,” Abby invited.
We sat in a circle around six white, thick candles. Only Samuel refused to join us, even after his mother patted a spot next to her and asked him sweetly to sit by her side.
“Not hungry right now,” he mumbled, reclining against the windowsill. He looked on us with a pinched expression.
Smiling, Benito offered Faris a cracker. He took it and popped it in his mouth.
“So you can eat?” Samuel asked, looking at Faris with one raised eyebrow. “It won’t make you sick or something. Vampires can’t eat,” he said as if that proved something.
“Sure,” Faris said easily. “My body is human enough. I can enjoy all of life’s pleasures just as well as you can.” Obviously, Maven had explained the Djinn situation to his family, but it didn’t look like they were buying any of it—not judging by the skeptical look on their faces.
“All of them?” Samuel asked, looking insinuatingly in my direction.
Faris narrowed his eyes, clearly bothered by Samuel’s innuendo, but he let it slide by answering with a simple yes. I felt a blush in my cheeks. Javier squirmed uncomfortably, and Abby—oh my dear friend Abby—wiggled an eyebrow at me. I shot her a mean look that hinted at the slow torture I would subject her to once we were alone.
“I hate to be the one to bring this up . . .” Samuel said.
“No, you don’t,” Maven scoffed.
Samuel braced an arm on the wall and leaned on it. “But, what do we do now? Just sit here and lick grease off aluminum cans?”
“I guess I’m okay with that,” Abby said, licking the edge of her can.
After flipping blond bangs out of his eyes, Samuel gave Abby a condescending look.
For Helen’s sake, I bit my tongue and held back the words he deserved. He didn’t have to be here. No one was forcing him. I looked at Maven. He seemed to be biting his tongue, too. Even though Samuel was his brother, he made no excuses for him. He knew and accepted the fact that Samuel was a complete ass.
“I’m having a hard time understanding how you get off thinking that you can stop crazy-ass Akeelah.” Samuel picked a speck off his black t-shirt. “God, this place is so dirty.”
Abby cracked her knuckles and looked at me, lifting a pencil thin eyebrow. She seemed to be asking “can I beat him up?”
“Honey, please,” Helen tried to pacify him again. “Why don’t you get some dinner and sit with us?”
“Mom, will you quit treating me like a child?” Samuel snapped. “I’m not just going to sit here and go along with their ludicrous ideas. I’m supposed to believe that this guy,” he pointed at Faris, “is a Djinn and somehow can put a stop to all the shit that’s going on out there, and with our help. Yeah, right!”
“He is a Djinn, all right,” Abby said matter-of-factly.
“So how come we’re sitting here in the dark, eating lame-ass food? Where is the banquet?”
“I explained already,” Maven said, irritated. “If Faris uses magic, Akeelah would be able to track it, and it would lead her straight to us.”
Samuel smirked. “So instead he just hides here.”
That was it. I couldn’t put up with any more of this. Maybe Faris was too polite to say something, but I . . . well . . . I didn’t have that problem.
I put my can down and stood, not wanting to feel smaller than Samuel. “Your help?” I said. “What help? You mean your whininess? And your brattiness? You want proof that Faris is a Djinn?”
“Marielle,” Faris warned.
I put an index finger up, asking Faris to hold on a second. “Well, maybe you should ask yourself how come you’re not in a freakin’ wheelchair anymore.”
“Wait, what?” Abby asked, then made a small exclamation when she realized what I was saying. “Oh!”
The room went entirely silent. Samuel’s blue eyes widened.
Helen stood, too. “You mean Faris cured Samuel?” She had a hand on her chest as if to contain her surprise.
“Maybe now you’ll stop being an ungrateful ass,” Maven said.
“ ¿Que pasa, Papá?” Benito asked, looking up from Samuel to me.
“Wait a minute,” Javier said. “Señorita Mariella said you help get our green cards.” He slapped a hand to his forehead as if mad at himself for taking this long to realize how it all connected.
“No, you didn’t. That’s bullshit,” Samuel said.
Helen gasped at his callous words.
But Samuel’s protest carried no conviction. He stayed planted there for a moment, his face going through a rainbow of emotions. His mouth opened and closed as if trying to spew more of the toxic fumes he liked to call words, but nothing came out. Maybe it was wrong, but I was enjoying shutting him up. Tremendously.
Samuel’s chin trembled and his chest moved in a halting way, as if he was about to cry?
Crap!
I grimaced, feeling a little guilty. “Look, why don’t we just try to get along? There’s no need to be so antagonistic. We’re all on the same team here. You know, the good guys’ team.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” Samuel told Faris.
Faris stood and dusted off his dark jeans. “Of course you don’t.”
“I didn’t ask to be cured. If . . . if it’s even true that you did that.”
Faris shrugged. “I think I will go outside for a little bit. Those who are interested in discussing how to protect ourselves can come out to the porch when you finish dinner.”
“Please,” Faris put a hand on my arm, “finish your dinner. You need to eat.”
I nodded, sensing that he wanted to be alone. After he walked out of the kitchen, I looked around the room. Everyone was staring down at their soup, not even eating. Awkwardness filled the room, making the air feel viscous and heavy.
Great! Way to go, Marielle.
“I think I’ll . . .” I didn’t know what to say, so I picked up my soup and left the kitchen. I found my way to the beat-up grand staircase and sat on the third step with the can resting on my leg.
Why didn’t you keep your mouth shut?
I stared at the greasy spot floating in the soup. The smell reminded me of Grandma Eloise, who would doctor up canned soup to make it taste decent.
“You okay there?” It was Abby, peeking shyly from the foyer.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
She wore a pair of skinny black and gray camo pants with lace-up, knee-high black boots over them. Her tight-fitting black t-shirt read “This is what awesome looks like.” Her pixie haircut was a bit overgrown, so she had started to apply gel to her bangs to fashion a spiky style. She walked over and sat next to me.
“What a dick, huh?” she said.
“Yeah, well. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.” I set the can down on the wooden step.
“Oh, I don’t know, I think it’s good you put him in his place. Maybe he’ll stop acting like such a jerk.”
We exchanged a quick glance.
“Nah, he won’t,” we both said at the same time, then laughed.
Abby ruffled the back of her hair. “I guess not. Assholegia is harder to cure than paraplegia.”
“That sounds like an accurate diagnosis, Dr. White.”
“Thank you, Nurse Iris.” Abby dabbed her forehead dramatically like a surgeon in the operating room. “So you and Faris . . .” Abby wiggled her eyebrows.
“No! No, we . . .” A knot formed in my tongue. “You know what? That’s none of your business.”
Abby put both hands up. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was a sore subject.”
“It’s not.” My weak denial wouldn’t have convinced her even if she weren’t my best friend.
One Wish Away: Djinn Empire Complete Series Page 55
