Two Hearts Asunder (Djinn Empire Book 2)

by Ingrid Seymour

  “Hey, love birds,” a faint cry carried by the wind.

  Faris stopped kissing me. He spun me around a couple of times before depositing me on the ground. He was laughing like I’d never seen him do before. I laughed too, sharing the same excitement. Everything was perfect. He was perfect. How could anything ever get between us? He wouldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t allow it.

  Curse or not. Akeelah or not. We were meant to be together.

  3

  Akeelah

  Akeelah walked back to the table, taking her time. Frank wasn’t sweating blood, but his face was so red, it looked as if he might start at any second.

  “Ma’am,” the dealer said, “do you call the gentleman’s bet?”

  “No. I fold,” she responded without preamble or emotion.

  Frank exhaled and slouched forward, looking as if he’d just seen the end of a retreating gun barrel.

  The dealer prepared to scoop away the cards.

  “Wait,” Akeelah said.

  The dealer’s hand stopped midair over the cards.

  “Would you like to see my cards, Frank?” Akeelah asked in an amused tone.

  Frank straightened, his curiosity certainly piqued. Most poker players don’t show their losing hands. It reveals too much about their game. But when they do, it is to serve an objective.

  Akeelah had an objective.

  “Yes,” Frank said.

  The dealer pushed the cards in Frank’s direction. He placed his right hand on top of them and used his thumb to gently lift them. Frank’s poker face fell, overpowered by confusion. His eyes snapped to meet Akeelah’s. They brimmed with anger. It seemed he wasn’t fond of surprises.

  Why would this woman, this stranger let me win? he wanted to know.

  Akeelah gave him a crooked smile and lifted her glass to him. “Let’s finish this,” she said.

  In the next hand, she went all in when it was clear Frank had the nut hand, a hand that could not be beaten by any other. He searched her face, his eyes filled with the knowledge that she was letting him win.

  Akeelah nodded to indicate his guess was correct, and she didn’t care.

  “All in,” Frank called.

  It was an easy decision, really. His was, unmistakably, the winning hand. Any decent poker player would know that, and he was more than decent. He was excellent, which also meant he understood Akeelah had just made him thirty million dollars richer.

  Just like that.

  As he pushed all his chips to the middle of the table, Akeelah turned her cards over. She had a pair of kings, Frank a straight. All the other players erupted from the waiting room, cheering Frank Angello and proclaiming fake condolences to Akeelah Johnson.

  The Djinn moved away from the crowd as they clinked their glasses to Frank’s and lamented their losses. Servants ran around like ants, straightening things, pouring drinks, balancing fancy hor d’oeuvres on trays.

  In the meantime, Akeelah stood by the window, looking down on New Orleans and its nighttime decadence. Her legs were slightly apart, her arms rigid at her sides, her dark bare skin reflecting the light. She looked as if she’d been carved from obsidian.

  Thirty minutes passed while the gamblers mingled and rued their stupid mistakes. She didn’t move. She remained impassive, like a mountain. For her, hours rushed by, the way seconds slipped unnoticed for humans.

  She knew Frank’s gaze settled on her every few seconds. Finally, he disentangled himself from his acquaintances and filled out paperwork related to his winnings. He came to stand at her side at the first opportunity.

  “You’re either insanely rich or simply insane,” he said, gaze floating over the illuminated buildings, hands clasped behind his back.

  “You are right on both accounts,” Akeelah said. “Do I have your attention?”

  Frank scoffed. “That is the biggest understatement I’ve ever heard. If you were trying to get my attention, you’ve exceeded yourself.” He turned his broad shoulders and faced her.

  “There is someone I’d like to see dead,” she said, ensuring her words didn’t travel beyond Frank’s range of hearing.

  He laughed, tipping his chin slightly. “And you think I can help you with that? Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “I don’t joke, Frank Angello.” Her voice and eyes held no amusement.

  Frank grew serious and appraised her. “Who are you?”

  “I can be your biggest ally or your worst nightmare. You choose.”

  “Is that a threat?” Frank put on a smug smile, as if receiving threats from women was as intimidating as receiving threats from a first-grader.

  “Yes.”

  Her flat response made Frank squirm. He adjusted his shirt and changed his stance. This was a man used to dealing with all sorts of criminals. Akeelah didn’t fit the stereotype molded in his head. It was enough to make him wonder.

  “On what basis? What makes you think you can threaten me? Do you know who I am?” He kept all emotion out of his voice. A calculated trick that surely intimidated all of those who came in contact with the Angello family boss. Akeelah only found it mildly amusing.

  “I know who you are. It is the reason I picked you to be my ally. I know you head the most powerful crime family in New Orleans. I know no illegal activities go on in this town without your knowledge. I know half the police force is under your command. I know who you intend to pay with the money I just let you win. I know everything there is worth knowing about you.”

  Frank’s lips tightened, working his mouth into a hateful sneer.

  Akeelah continued. “Get rid of this girl for me and you won’t regret it. It may be hard killing her, and you may have to use a bit of . . . creativity. But if you do it, I will make you more powerful than you have ever dreamed.”

  She knew Frank and his people would find it impossible to kill the meddling girl. Faris never left her side, and he’d never let anything bad happen to his pet. But Akeelah’s success depended not so much on the actual slaying of the girl as the overt attempts to do so.

  “You may start by assigning your cousin Andy to the task,” she finished. In Akeelah’s plan, Cousin Andy was the executioner and Frank the supplier. The former was crazy, the latter in possession of endless deadly resources in all shapes and calibers.

  “If you know so much, then you would know Andrew is in prison.”

  “Not anymore. You will find him, and an envelope with instructions, in your office. Andy’s charges were magically dropped. His mother will be delighted. I’m sure. By the way, she’s welcome and so are you.”

  She turned to leave. Frank snatched her wrist, but let her go faster than if he’d touched a hot iron. “Where can I find you?”

  “I will find you, Frank Angello. But first, you must show me what you can do. You’ll get the information you need soon. For my part, I’ve already shown you my abilities. Though, in truth, you have seen nothing yet.”

  4

  Marielle

  I rolled down the passenger side window and called out to Maven as he walked up the driveway toward his house. He looked over his shoulder and stopped. We had driven right back home after our jump, and it was now lunch time.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Faris. He had both hands on the steering wheel, his bronzed skin a mouth-watering delight under the midday sun.

  We’d already dropped Abby off, and Maven’s house was our last stop before getting home. Tomorrow I had a couple of classes, and I needed to rest if I wanted to be awake the entire time, which I did. I loved attending the University of New Orleans and majoring in Romance Languages. I had missed last semester while helping Grandpa keep the nursery afloat. I’d even come to think that college might not be in the cards for me, so being there now was a treat.

  I stretched like a cat, dying for a hot shower and my soft bed. Traveling by regular means was quickly losing its appeal, what with Djinn Air at my service to take me anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye. In comparison, all those hours stuffed inside a
car felt like torture. I was getting spoiled. Badly.

  I gave Faris a quick smile, hopped out of the car and jogged up to Maven.

  “What’s up?” he asked, dropping his backpack on the ground.

  “Um . . .” I’d called out his name on impulse, and now I wasn’t sure if I should say what I wanted to say. “Did you have fun?”

  He shrugged. “I guess.”

  Both Maven and Abby, to my surprise, had ended up jumping off the bridge. I would never forget the look on their faces as they landed. They looked ecstatic, smiling like idiots. So, I suspected Maven had enjoyed himself, way more than he was willing to admit.

  “Look,” I said, “I know it’s none of my business, but try to be nicer to Abby. She . . . likes you.”

  “I thought she liked my brother,” he said sarcastically.

  “Until she got to know him. She’s just lucky there’s a better version.” I was paraphrasing something Abby had said about the benefits of liking twin brothers.

  Maven scoffed and nudged his backpack with a tennis shoe.

  “She may like the both of you . . . physically—how could she not? You are identical twins, after all. But as a person, she likes you better. She’s smart like that,” I joked.

  “Nothing like being second best.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Really?” Maven raised one blond eyebrow and looked over my shoulder in Faris’s direction.

  My insides gave a strange twist. I hated to think Maven was hung up on me. I didn’t want that for him or our friendship. Maybe it was wrong to try to push him toward Abby, but I really believed they’d make a great couple. Besides, I wanted them to be happy, like me.

  I ignored his comment and switched the focus back to Abby. “What? You don’t like her?”

  “I’m just . . . not into her like that,” Maven said, but he didn’t sound too convincing.

  “Not even one bit?”

  “Give it a rest with the Twenty Questions, will ya?” He shifted uncomfortably, his ears reddening somewhat.

  Definitely not being honest. “Oh, c’mon, admit it.”

  “She’s cute, I guess. I don’t know.” His answer was so clipped, I wasn’t sure if he’d admitted it just to get me off his case or because he really liked her. He bit his lower lip and stared up at the passing clouds.

  I wanted to launch into a speech about all of Abby’s amazing qualities, but I had the feeling it wasn’t the best time for that.

  Instead, I gave a one-shoulder shrug and said, “Well, that’s a start.” Because that was all it might take for Maven to start looking at Abby differently, like a little seed that might grow into something bigger under the right conditions, conditions I would help create.

  A smile teased my lips. Before Maven could suspect my plans, I said goodbye and trotted back to the car.

  Faris gave me a raised eyebrow as I climbed back into the passenger seat. “What are you planning?” His tone was reproachful.

  “Nothing,” was my response, but I might as well have been rubbing my hands together, relishing my match-making scheme.

  Faris shifted the SUV into gear. “You leave me out of it, okay?”

  As he drove the few blocks home, we argued about his involvement and the usefulness of magic. Mostly, I just liked to tease him.

  “I think we should let things run their natural course,” he said. “If they’re meant to fall in love, they will. We shouldn’t try to force that, much less with magic.”

  “It wouldn’t be forcing it, just . . . assisting it. You didn’t seem to mind using magic when it came to ensnaring me, did you?” I bared my teeth and made a growling sound like a wild animal. We laughed.

  “Well, that was quite different,” he said. “I was desperate. The wishes were counting down and you kept pushing me away. I had to do something. Nothing behind your back, mind you. But if there had been more time, you would have fallen for me without the assistance of magic. I have no doubt.”

  God, he was so infuriatingly sexy when he smirked in that self-confident way.

  “Is that so?” I crossed my arms and frowned.

  I would have said more but I lost my train of thought when I caught sight of revolving red lights and a dark column of smoke against the blue sky. I straightened. A fire truck was blocking the street.

  “What’s going on?” The question rushed past my lips in a panicked breath.

  Faris parked. We flung our doors open and ran on down the road. As we approached, we found another large fire engine, an ambulance, a police car, and several of my neighbors, all parked in front of my house.

  My throat grew tight, as an acrid smell hit me like a wall. I stopped abruptly, taking in the scene with open-mouthed horror. Several columns of dark smoke drifted upward, disfiguring the beautiful sky, mangling the happiness I’d been feeling just seconds before.

  Each of my heartbeats felt like an explosion banging against my chest. On the spot where my house had stood lay only a huge pile of charred wooden beams and wasted charcoal. Flakes of gray ash floated in the air, raining down in a creepy wintry scene. Rising smoke filled the space where full walls had been and traced the silhouette of a ghost house. Flames burned in the center of it all.

  A few firemen still worked on putting out the remnants of what must have been a fierce fire. Their radios crackled with choppy voices calling out orders. Their hoses gushed with a thick hiss.

  “Dad,” I said softly, putting a hand to my chest. “Dad!” I screamed and started toward the burnt debris that had once been my home. After only one step, Faris caught me by the waist. I collapsed against him, pressed my tear-streaked face to his chest.

  Dad couldn’t be gone. I’d just gotten him back. Fate couldn’t be this malevolent.

  “Marielle,” a hoarse voice called from behind Faris.

  I pulled away, eyes darting desperately, and caught sight of a short paramedic woman in uniform, pushing a stretcher toward the back of the ambulance. My father was on it, under a weird blanket that looked like aluminum foil.

  I ran to his side and stopped. Tears slid down my cheeks at the sight of his bandage-covered hands, sooty skin and bubbling blisters on every visible surface of his body, including his face. Dull, wavering eyes met mine. I lifted a hand to touch him but it froze in midair. His skin looked raw. Utterly painful.

  “Oh, Dad,” a weak whimper.

  His swollen lips twitched as if to offer me a reassuring smile. “It’s okay.” His voice was but a rasp.

  “God.” I covered my mouth with a trembling hand.

  “Robert!” Faris got closer, his tone full of concern.

  “Faris,” Dad murmured in that hoarse tone.

  “Did they give you something for pain yet?” Faris asked.

  On cue, Dad let out a pent-up breath, as if air had been the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces.

  “Wow, yeah. I think it just kicked in.” He blinked slowly, as if marveling at the effectiveness of the medicine.

  “We’ll take care of the burns later.” Faris’s voice came as a faint whisper at my ear, even though he stood a couple of paces away. He looked at the paramedics warily, to indicate we didn’t need them asking any questions about miraculously-healed burns. As long as Dad wasn’t in pain, I guessed repairing his skin could wait.

  “Mr. Iris,” the paramedic said, “we need to take you to the hospital.”

  “Can we ride with him?” I asked.

  “Only one person can ride,” she said.

  “Go ahead.” Faris patted my arm reassuringly. “I’ll be right there with you.”

  And I knew he meant just that. He’d be in the ambulance with us, tucked in a corner, invisible.

  I climbed inside the emergency vehicle after my father. The siren wailed to life, and the ambulance weaved through traffic. The paramedic gingerly strapped an oxygen mask to Dad’s face and started an IV line.

  He’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay, I repeated in my mind over and over, remindin
g myself that I had Faris, and he, in turn, had his magic. I pushed away a memory of Grandpa on the hospital bed, hooked up to all those machines, and reminding me of the stone. Dad was all the family I had left. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.

  “Dad, what happened?” I looked into his green eyes, which in spite of being buried in a dark layer of soot, seemed quite lively at the moment.

  Thanks to Faris, no doubt.

  “I don’t know,” he answered behind the hissing mask. “I was still sleeping when the neighbor’s dog woke me up with his barking. The smoke detectors—” He started coughing violently. “They didn’t go off,” he finished in a barely audible tone.

  “Isn’t there something you can do to help him breathe better?” I asked.

  “He inhaled a lot of smoke, miss,” the paramedic responded, but I wasn’t talking to her.

  Dad cleared his throat. “It’s okay. I think the oxygen’s helping,” he said in a much clearer voice.

  I mouthed a “thank you,” sure that Faris would be able to see my immense gratitude.

  “I guess the firefighters will let us know what caused the fire,” Dad said. “Maybe some electrical malfunction. It was an old house.” His face fell. “Dad’s house . . . It’s gone. It’s all gone.”

  Gently, I lay a hand on his bandaged one. “It’s okay, Dad. You’re alright, that’s what matters. The house can be fixed.”

  He gave me a sad look that seemed to say, “Oh, you’re too young to understand. It’s impossible.”

  Without Faris, it would have been impossible. But I had him, and if I asked, he would rebuild my grandfather’s house exactly the way it’d been, down to its last scuffed, ratty piece of furniture, everything that Grandpa Arthur had treasured.

  I found myself looking for Faris inside the cramped ambulance. In one of the corners by the back door, I saw a faint shimmer of light, a sign from Faris to let me know where he was. I heaved a sigh of relief and thanked my lucky stars, realizing what a ruin my life would be without him.

  5

  Marielle

  “I feel much better now,” I said, walking into Faris’s study at his Garden District home. My stomach was full and I’d just hung up the phone with Dad, who was resting comfortably in his hospital room. It had been a long couple of days with him there.