Two Hearts Asunder (Djinn Empire Book 2)

by Ingrid Seymour

  I narrowed my eyes at her.

  “What?! Can you blame me?” Abby stood and started pacing in front of the Ansel Adams portrait. “Do you believe her?” she asked Maven.

  He put both hands up. “Sure, I think that, um, that I just . . .” For a second it seemed as if he would say he believed me, but then he put his hands down and exhaled heavily. “Yeah, I think I’d like some proof, too. Sorry, Marielle.”

  “Fine, I’ll give you proof.”

  I strode to the desk, picked up the briefcase and brought it back to the sofa. I aligned the letters to spell the combination and clicked it open. Maven and Abby walked up and peered inside. I picked up a wad of travelers checks and brandished them around.

  “Each of these stacks has about ten thousand dollars, and there are ten of them.” I dropped the checks back inside with a flick of the wrist and picked up a stack of credit cards. “There are also fifty credit cards or so, all with different names, and I’m pretty sure without limits. Oh and with matching passports and drivers licenses for about as many countries.”

  “Sheesh, Elle. We know your boyfriend is a multi-millionaire, but you don’t have to rub it in,” Abby complained sarcastically.

  “In other words,” Maven clarified, “This doesn’t prove Faris is a Djinn, just rich and maybe . . . weird.”

  “People that rich aren’t weird,” Abby corrected. “They are eccentric.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Okay, maybe this will convince you.” I pulled out the stone tablet. “This is where Faris’s brother is trapped. Here, take a look at it.”

  Abby frowned, took the stone and sat at the edge of the coffee table. She turned it around in her hands. “Um, I see nothing special about it.”

  “Let me see.” Maven took the stone off her hands and, after a quick inspection, said, “Yep, nothing special, except maybe that it’s old, like an antique or something. Sorry, but it doesn’t prove anything either.”

  “No? Give me that.” I snatched it. “It’s just a thin—very thin, mind you—carved stone tablet. Right?”

  They nodded.

  “Then watch.” With a sudden jerk of my arm, I flung the tablet against the fireplace. It crashed against the rock hearth and dropped to the floor with a loud clatter.

  Abby rose to her feet, a hand on her mouth. “Elle! That’s just wrong!”

  I walked to the fireplace, picked the stone up and held it out, turning it in all directions so they could see it was undamaged.

  “Meh,” Maven said with a shrug.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sick of this whole affair, I marched to one of the bookcases and grabbed a heavy metal statue of Buddha. I placed the stone on the floor and knelt in front of it. With a deep breath, I raised the statue above my head and slammed it against the tablet as hard as I could.

  The impact ran up the length of my arms, making my teeth rattle. “Ow.” I stood up, shoved the statue into Maven’s hands and rubbed my shoulder. “You try it. I dare you to break it.”

  Maven got down on the floor and tried for several minutes, viciously slamming the statue against the tablet from every possible angle, as if to prove me wrong. After nearly twenty different hits, he sat back on folded knees, panting.

  “You’re all right there, Baby Blues,” Abby mocked. “Even Faris’s stone gives you fits.”

  Maven gave her a dirty look, but seemed too exhausted to answer back.

  “Even if you don’t believe me, you have to admit things have been really weird around here for the past few months. Maven, your brother?” I lifted an eyebrow, prompting him to think.

  “Are you trying to say that Faris . . . cured him?”

  “He did. He also brought Javier’s son from Mexico, healed my dad after the fire and saved all those people from burning alive inside the riverboat.”

  “He cured my brother?” Maven asked again, sounding as if he hated being indebted to Faris. I guess I shouldn’t have mentioned that one, but he would eventually put two and two together, even if he was having a hard time with it right now.

  “I believe you, Elle,” Abby said, turning to face me. “It’s too crazy to really be crazy. Know what I mean? So what do we do now?”

  Maven shook himself, used the coffee table for support and stood up.

  “What do you mean what do we do?” I asked.

  “Yes, what’s the plan? What are we gonna do to help Faris?”

  “Abby, I don’t think—”

  “Uh-uh, you’re not getting rid of me. Whatever this is, I want in.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m abandoning school—against Dad’s wishes, by the way—plus it’s dangerous!”

  “Well, it’s not like I’d miss anything Earth-shattering. Besides, I’m not letting you have all the fun. Maven might since he’s such a straight-laced kid. Me? I’m in trouble with half my teachers as it is. What do I have to lose? You’re offering intrigue, adventure, multiple no-limit credit cards. I’m going with you!”

  “It’s not a game, Abby,” I admonished. “This is serious. You saw all the people they killed at the casino.”

  “The more reason to go with you,” Maven piped in, coming to stand next to Abby. “You can’t expect us to let you go alone after everything you’ve told us, can you?”

  I looked from Maven to Abby and took in their determined expressions. “There’s nothing I’ll be able to say to talk you out of it, is there?”

  They shook their heads in unison.

  I sighed, resigned. “I don’t have time to argue, anyway. Okay, let’s do some research.”

  21

  Marielle

  After scouring the Internet for an hour and finding out what I needed, we left the house through the back door and agreed to meet again in two hours, after Maven and Abby had gotten the things we needed for our mission.

  Before parting, Abby gave me a quick squeeze, while Maven opted for a single nod. They waited until I pulled the Bugatti out of the garage, then walked down the driveway to where Maven had parked his truck.

  After rolling to the edge of the tree-lined street, I waited for them to enter their car safely. The back of my neck prickled as I looked from side to side. I saw no one, but had the strange feeling that I was being watched.

  Maven waved a hand out the window after starting his car. I pulled out into the street and he followed closely behind. We drove down the same roads for a short while, but soon he took a different direction. I kept an eye on the rearview mirror, looking for anything suspicious, but to my relief, saw nothing.

  When I got to Clearview Mall, I parked, took the briefcase with me and walked briskly toward the entrance. Inside, a few paces from the sliding doors, I found the directory, traced the map with my index finger and quickly located a sporting goods store.

  The doors behind me slid open. My back stiffened, but I resisted the urge to look back.

  No one’s following me. I’m being paranoid.

  The map in front of me had a clear Formica surface which acted like a sort of mirror. Pretending to still be looking for directions, I angled my body to get a better view of the reflection. My breath caught when a massive silhouette blotted the light from outside. The figure stopped and stood there. Maybe it was just another shopper who needed to see the directory.

  Maybe not.

  I inhaled deeply, turned to the right without a backward glance and headed for the sporting goods store. A nagging instinct made my legs restless, urging them to run. Keeping a steady pace took everything I had.

  As I passed a jewelry store, I stopped by one of the displays and turned sideways to gain a better peripheral view of my surroundings. Engagement rings of all shapes and sizes twinkled behind the window in a dazzling array designed to make a shallow girl melt with want. My gaze rested on the blue velvet backdrop, barely noticing the sparkling diamonds.

  Instead, my attention concentrated on the figure that had abruptly stopped and was now looking at t-shirts at one of the many vendor kiosks. All
I could tell from this angle was that the person was male and very tall and wide. I tried to muster the courage for a casual glance, but couldn’t. I moved along, barely managing a normal stroll to my destination.

  When I reached the store, I took a sharp turn into it, pretending to enter it on a whim. Once inside, I rushed to the back where the cashier sat reading a magazine.

  The short, balding man looked up from the pages. “May I help you?”

  “Um, just looking.”

  I stepped behind a rack of sweatshirts, pulled one out and held it in front of me. Peeking over its collar, I spotted a tall, bulky man dressed in blue jeans and a leather vest. He walked casually across the front of the store and disappeared from view. I cataloged every detail I was able to glean: thick pork-chop sideburns, dark sunglasses, a balding head with a thin ponytail in the back. He looked like he belonged on top of a Harley among other greasy guys.

  I peered back at the cashier. He was staring at me like I was from outer space.

  I gave him a weak smile. “Do you have any backpacks?”

  He flicked a thumb toward the far left corner. I headed that way, casting furtive glances over my shoulder. A pregnant woman pushing a stroller passed by the store front. The biker dude was nowhere in sight.

  I set the briefcase on the floor and flexed my hand. I couldn’t wait to get rid of it. I felt like a geriatric businessman, carrying his ball and chain around. It wasn’t practical in the least, especially for someone who might need to run from a stalker.

  I sorted through the different types of backpacks and quickly found what I was looking for. It was an ugly, neon red color, but large and with all the right pockets to hold the briefcase’s contents, as well as one or two changes of clothes. I flung the pack over my shoulder and went hunting for a couple of decent outfits to replace my battered one.

  I snatched up two pairs of blue jeans and two hooded jackets. I had no idea if it would be cold where we were going, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I also got two t-shirts, shorts, socks, a baseball cap, a pair of running shoes, and, most importantly, underwear.

  When I was done, the cashier rang everything up. Cringing at the total, I set the briefcase on the floor and opened it. The stone tablet lay on top. I frowned at it. I would have rather left it behind, but I might need it where I was going.

  I tried not to think of Zet’s magic seeping out of the stone, causing trouble. Faris had assured me it wasn’t possible, but I still didn’t trust the damn thing.

  I shook the thought away, pulled out one of the credit cards and signed the back with the fake name that appeared on the front: Sol Palomo.

  Holding my breath, I handed it over. The cashier swiped it. As it was processed, I expected alarms to go off, flashing big, accusing fingers in my direction. Instead, I got a receipt in need of another fake signature.

  Loaded with my purchases, I exited the store and looked around, as if pondering where to go next. It didn’t take me long to spot Biker Dude leaning against a wall. He was chewing on a toothpick, standing too close for comfort and looking shamelessly in my direction. My gaze passed over him, lingering for no more than a second.

  I turned on my heel and made a beeline for the public restrooms. I desperately wanted clean clothes, but more than anything, I wanted a pair of panties under my pants. This morning, I couldn’t bear the thought of wearing the same ones—not without the proper use of detergent. Going “commando” might work for some people, but, for me, it was a lesson in self-consciousness.

  The restrooms were across the food court. I weaved through the tables, rushing my pace a little, feeling Biker Dude closer and closer with every step. By now he wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was following me, which was much creepier than before.

  In the ladies’ room, I changed, replacing everything from head to toe. Hands shaking, I zipped my hooded jacket, placed the contents of the briefcase at the bottom of the backpack and stuffed the rest of my new clothes on top, keeping the credit card I’d just used—together with its matching driver’s license and passport—in one of the side pockets for easy access.

  I considered leaving the empty briefcase in the bathroom, but I didn’t want to make Biker Dude suspicious and draw attention to my backpack. So I brought the ugly case with me and walked out, wracking my brain for a way to elude him.

  When I walked back into the adjoining food court, I spotted him sitting on a chair which he dwarfed with his massive frame, making it look like a preschooler’s piece of furniture. He was sipping on an extra-large drink and holding a telephone to his ear.

  As I walked by, he looked me straight in the eye and bared his yellowed teeth in a creepy smile.

  “Sure thang,” he said in a loud voice surely intended for my ears. “I got my eye on that bird. I’ll make sure she flies home.”

  My heart clenched at the words. The man stood and started in my direction. I hurried my pace, speeding up past an older couple. I looked back over my shoulder and nearly yelped. Biker Dude was only a few paces away from me. He was so tall, one of his steps had to equal two of mine.

  Overtaken by panic, I practically began to run. My heart pumped and seemed to climb inside my head, right between my ears. It hammered so loudly I could literally hear it. Or was that the man’s steps behind me? I looked back again. He was walking at an almost normal pace, heavy boots pounding against the tiled floor, making him sound like a giant.

  My blood pumped faster, setting my limbs on fire, and before I knew it, my new tennis shoes were being put to the test. I swerved around a family of four and headed straight for a department store. I ran past the make-up counter, turned the corner and looked back once more. To my relief, I’d put some distance between us, though he still had me in his sights.

  I turned sharply when I noticed an exit sign, but the sudden change in direction, made me slip. I braced my fall with my free hand. The briefcase clattered to the floor. An attendant rushed to my side, asked if I was okay and helped me to my feet.

  “I’m fine,” I said, looking for my pursuer over the woman’s shoulder.

  He was gone.

  My heart slowed a tiny fraction.

  “Everything okay, ma’am?” the attendant asked. “Maybe you should sit for a minute.”

  My ears rang and the world seemed to spin. “I’m fine. I . . . I have to go.”

  I picked up the briefcase and jogged toward the exit, looking back every few steps, but all I saw was the attendant, standing in the same spot where I’d left her and staring with concern. I passed by a cash register where a woman was arguing over a blouse, demanding her money back. The exit sign loomed above. I pressed on, veins afire with adrenaline.

  With a chill up my spine, I glanced over my shoulder yet again. No one was there, even the attendant was gone. I was starting to turn my attention back toward the exit when I hit what felt like a brick wall. Air left my lungs in a whoosh and I crashed to the floor again, this time on my butt.

  Dazed, I blinked and looked up. The blurry image of Biker Dude towered over me. The exit sign shone above his head.

  “Let me help you,” he said in a gruff voice.

  He grabbed me above the elbow and hoisted me to my feet, as if I weighed two pounds. He leered at me, squeezing my arm with relish. I whimpered and started to call out for help.

  “If you scream ‘n cause trouble, your little Persian prince will pay for it. Got it, cupcake?” Biker Dude said.

  I hesitated, concern over Faris taking over all reason. My thoughts raced for a moment until I came to my senses and realized they couldn’t harm Faris. Not this man or any other. Not even Akeelah. But my moment of doubt was all Biker Dude needed, and in no time, he had me through the first set of glass doors.

  I cried out for help, but it was too late. I was sandwiched between two sets of doors, my shrill cries trapped in a vacuum. If anyone inside cared that I was being kidnapped, they couldn’t hear me now.

  Biker Dude pushed open the second set of doors with a meaty h
and and pulled me along with the other. As soon as we were outside, I screamed at the top of my lungs, but no one was close by.

  “Help!” I yelled. To my dismay, the loud sound of traffic on the nearby highway masked my desperate cry.

  Biker Dude squeezed my arm with more viciousness, and my cry degenerated into a pitiful whine.

  “Scream again and I’ll crush your scrawny arm.” For emphasis, he bulged his tattooed bicep to the size of a cantaloupe. “Are we clear?”

  How could no one see what was happening? Was Akeelah around, helping the bastard along? My thoughts reeled. From all the advice I’d ever heard about abductions, I knew that if this man managed to get me into a car, I was done for. I had to fight. Even being crushed to a pulp right here was better than ending up alone with him elsewhere.

  So I fought, desperately trying to pull my arm out the man’s enormous, calloused hand. But the only thing my efforts got me was another excruciating squeeze that made it feel like my arm would split in two.

  “Tell me, cupcake. What you got in that briefcase?” Biker Dude eyed the case, which I still clutched fiercely in my right hand.

  His eyes gleamed with greed. Whatever he took from me, it wouldn’t matter. Akeelah wouldn’t care if he delivered me naked. This criminal would probably steal everything I had and dump me in the evil Djinn’s lap without a second thought. Maybe that was even part of their deal.

  “Gimme that,” Biker Dude ordered.

  I refused. If he couldn’t wait to have the briefcase, I had to use that to my advantage.

  Biker Dude growled. “Gimme that, I said.” He reached across, leaning forward in front of me, trying to grab the case with his free hand.

  I stretched my arm backward, away from him.

  “Hand it over!” he screamed, thinking I was trying to keep it away from him.

  I wasn’t.

  With all my strength, I swung the briefcase forward and slammed it against his nose. There was a crunching sound followed by a guttural scream, and suddenly, my arm was free. He pressed both hands to his face and cursed a stream of heinous insults.

  Holding the briefcase with both hands, I swung again. The corner of the case crashed against his temple, causing the lid to spring open.