by Pat Esden
Chase cleared his throat. “The lamp was created long before the great flood. It was marked with sacred symbols, and filled with everlasting oil. It’s said to burn with a flame as hot and smokeless as the genies who served Methuselah and Solomon. If broken, it will re-form itself and the oil will flow back inside.”
Dad fanned his hand over his mouth and yawned. “Boy, your storytelling is as dull as listening to a camel snore. I want to hear the exciting version about how the family found it, the adventure, how it was brought back here—and hidden. I want my daughter to tell it the way she’s heard it told to her.” He sat up and scowled at Chase. “I’ve been denied time with my precious child, and I’d like you to leave us alone.”
Chase shoved the sleeves of his hoodie up and squared his shoulders. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Dad sat up and folded his arms across his chest. “A bit insolent, aren’t you, boy?”
Shit. This wasn’t going the way I wanted. Not at all. But if I insisted Chase tell the story, the genie would get angry, and that definitely wasn’t good, either.
I held my hands up in surrender. “It’s fine, Chase. You have lots to do, and Dad’s right, we haven’t had any time together since he got well.” I looked down, so neither of them would see the fear in my eyes. I could do this. I had to do this. I just had to make up a story. The genie would never know it wasn’t real. I had to humor him and in return learn what I could.
Chase frowned at me and got to his feet, looking more and more displeased. “I’d like to hear the story too,” he said.
Dad bristled and waved him off. “Don’t you have sheep to tend, or boots to lick?”
A muscle in Chase’s cheek twitched, and his hand swooped toward his beltline, like he was going to draw Malphic’s dagger. Finally, he dropped his arms to his sides and gave me a worried look, then turned and stomped away.
Once the thud of Chase’s boots against the stairs faded, Dad settled back down on the sand and closed his eyes. “You may begin now,” he said.
Taking a deep breath, I did some fast thinking. Then I began to tell Dad’s story about Stephanie Freemont traveling to the Middle East by ship in 1793. But instead of her excavating a cursed tomb and unearthing jars filled with Solomon’s wisest and most obedient genies, I substituted it with the Lamp of Methuselah.
As I reached the part where the ship made it through a tempest of demons and anchored off Moonhill’s beach, Dad sat up and leaned toward me.
He snagged my wrist. “Tell me the rest quickly, girl. Where did they hide the lamp?”
My gaze flicked to the cliff top, hoping to see Chase’s outline. But I couldn’t spot even the hint of a human shape.
I pulled against Dad’s grip.
He squeezed my wrist harder. “Don’t take all day, girl. Did they hide the lamp in the hill of salt?”
I gulped a breath. “They took it to the family mausoleum and hid it in there. Under the floor. Where it would be safe from those who might misuse it.” There, that was a safe ending. But what did he mean by the hill of salt? Moonhill? A salt mine, I presumed.
Fury burned in Dad’s eyes. His fingernails dug into my wrist. “You’re wrong!”
His outburst sent fear ricocheting through me. But I forced myself to look relaxed, blinked a couple of times, and then gave him a doe-in-the-headlights look. “Well, that’s the way you always told it. Did you want me to make up a new ending?”
He let go of my arm and leapt to his feet. “Stupid bitch. Can’t even remember a story right.” He grumbled something about the old fool not having checked carefully enough, then stormed off the beach and up the stairs.
Letting out a relieved breath, I stretched out my legs and rubbed my wrist. Small bruises were blossoming where his fingers had gripped me. I certainly hadn’t learned much about genies, but he hadn’t learned anything useful about the lamp, either. In fact, it sounded like I’d made him wonder if Dad hadn’t checked the mausoleum thoroughly enough. And that wasn’t something Dad would have failed to do.
My chest tightened as I recalled Grandfather’s warning. “I want you to understand how serious the situation is. Let the rest of us deal with the genie.”
But Grandfather had let me go with him anyway. And I had kind of won this round, at least I now had an idea what the genie was interested in. Still, I couldn’t, not even for a second, let my guard down. He was a genie and I had to fear him with all my heart.
With a sudden shiver, goose bumps rushed across my skin and I trembled. All during breakfast and here at the beach, every second, it had felt like I was with a stranger—and it had been terrifying. The thought of being afraid of my dad forever was something I couldn’t live with.
I pulled my knees back up to my chest and hugged my arms around them. I had to keep fighting. I had to.
But if I found a way to get the genie out of Dad, what would be left?
Was my dad even still alive?
CHAPTER 21
The assumption that magic and science are
not unified is a falsehood that must be overcome
before forward progress can be achieved.
—General notes on alchemy
Hector Freemont
I stood on the beach, watching a sandpiper scurry along the waterline, moving in and out with the crashing waves. I needed to get going, make sure Dad hadn’t wandered off somewhere—like headed for the mausoleum, though I suspected he’d more likely gone back to his room to talk things over with his shadow-henchmen. But first I had to unwind for a minute, calm down and try to make sense of everything I knew so far.
Grandfather had said our family sought out and safeguarded magic objects so they couldn’t be misused. Assuming the Lamp of Methuselah was here, it didn’t sound like it could be that dangerous. In fact, it sounded innocent and handy, like a self-charging flashlight—though I imagined its real purpose was much more important than simply casting light.
“Annie!” Selena’s voice ricocheted from the cliff top.
I frowned. I didn’t have time to deal with her and her bullshit problems. What did she think? That she could use me for a scapegoat and I’d forgive her a second later?
She dashed down the stairs and across the beach to me. “I feel so awful,” she said. “Seriously, I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”
I scowled into her sunglass-shielded eyes. “What did you tell your parents, that I forced you to go partying?”
She stuck out her lip in a forgive-me-please pout. “Dad permanently grounded me.”
“Well, isn’t that too bad?” I said, totally sarcastic.
She shoved her glasses up on her head, revealing tear-rimmed eyes. “The cops handcuffed me, Annie. I was so scared. It was stupid to blame you, but I figured if Mom and Dad—if everyone thought I’d only snuck out a couple of times, like since you got here, then they wouldn’t find out about Newt. But they did. Dad took my phone and my laptop. I can’t even text him.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Living with them is worse than a jail. You have to forgive me, you have to. I brought your shoes back.”
The hitch in her voice and the sincerity in her eyes drained my anger. Although there was no reason for me to forgive her—after all, it wasn’t like we’d been friends for years or even spoken before the last few days—I couldn’t help but feel that if Selena’s parents and all the adults around here had given her more freedom and respect, this wouldn’t have happened.
The memory of that day and night with Taj drifted into my mind. He’d turned out to be a total loser and I’d been stupid to have sex with him. But I was glad Dad allowed me to make my own choices, even if they were wrong. Selena had never gotten that chance.
I held my hand out to her. “All right. Friends. But no more blaming stuff on me.”
She threw her arms around me, pulled me into a fierce hug, and whispered, “Once this blows over, we’ll have to figure out a new way to escape. We’ll make sure Chase doesn’t see us—or we could ask him to come with us.
He’s probably mad at me, too.”
Wiggling free, I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m sure he is.”
She looked down. “I really did make his job harder.”
I bit my lip. It wasn’t my secret to tell, but maybe she’d be nicer to him if she knew the truth about what he’d lived through. Besides, I needed to get all the information I could out of her and there was no better way to do that than by making her think I already knew as much if not more than she did. “I know where Chase came from—and it has nothing to do with drug cartels,” I said. “He was a slave to the djinn.”
Instead of laughing like most people would have, she gaped. “Oh my God, that explains a lot.”
I didn’t stop there. “I know about the research room, too. Grandfather showed it to me.” Maybe she didn’t know much about the family business, but I couldn’t believe that wasn’t a secret she’d kept from me.
Her eyes widened even more. “He did?”
“Yeah.” I looked away from her, toward the crashing waves and sandpiper scurrying along the waterline. Then I lifted my chin and turned back. “Selena, I’m tired of all the secrets and lies. How about if we don’t hide things from each other anymore?”
She smiled. “I’d really like that—like super lots.” She linked her arm with mine and snuggled me close. “I need to get back to the house before Mom comes looking for me. But we can talk in my room.”
I shook my head. “Maybe later. Right now, I’ve got to do some research.”
“Can I help? You know, make up for being a jerk, and lies and stuff.”
“Thanks, but—” I started to say no, that I could do it on my own, but that wasn’t the way to keep the door between us open. Maybe it was a good thing for the both of us to work together. Besides, I was getting used to this cousin idea, sort of like built-in friends forever. “The other day the Professor said something about there being an old translation of Voyages of Sinbad in the library. Are there other books about myths or artifacts from the Middle East as well?”
“Sure. Some are in the vault, some on the shelves. I could find them for you, no problem.”
“Great.” I smiled at her. “I wish we’d gotten to know each other sooner.”
“Me too.”
All the way up the stairs and into the garden, Selena spilled family secrets, about the occult stuff her mom and Kate were into, and how they let her do some basic things. What they were capable of sounded way more powerful than anything that Santeria priest could have done. Of course, that shouldn’t have surprised me considering Kate had the ability to wipe out memories.
Selena also mentioned that her mother was the last known practitioner of an ancient magic that involved etching symbols onto eggs, then dyeing them. That pretty much explained the gross colors on Olya’s fingers and why Grandfather had asked me about art in the research room, not to mention having decorated eggs all over the house. Finally, Selena confessed that her mother had made the pentagram under my bed, but she stressed that it was for my protection. And this time, I was certain she was telling the truth.
Up ahead I spotted Kate, crouched in front of the Shakespeare garden with a pair of shears in her hand, cutting off spent flower heads or pruning or something.
I leaned closer to Selena. “I need to find out more about the djinn,” I said softly.
She snickered. “So you can talk to Chase about his slave days?”
“No.” I cuffed her arm and lowered my voice even more. “That’s what’s wrong with Dad. He’s possessed by one of them.”
“No shit—I mean, I’m sorry. I thought it was dementia.” She glanced toward where Kate had stopped working and turned to look at us. Then she whispered, “If you want to know more about the djinn, you’ll definitely need my help. It’s not like any of them are going to tell you.” She stopped talking and plastered a smile on her face as we neared Kate.
Kate put her shears and a sandwich bag into her gardening basket, and got up to greet us.
“Have you seen Dad?” I asked. I really didn’t want her getting suspicious that Selena and I were up to anything.
“Slipped away from you, did he?” She sniffed smugly.
I lifted my chin and took a guess. “Chase was watching him.”
“Indeed. He and Tibbs escorted your father back to his room.” She narrowed her eyes on me and Selena. “Hope you two are staying out of trouble.”
“Definitely,” Selena said, pulling me toward the house.
Once the door closed behind us and we were outside the kitchen, I slipped my arm free. “One thing I am worried about is the Professor,” I said. “If he’s in the library or even the workroom. . . I like him, but we don’t need him overhearing what we’re talking about.”
Selena nibbled her lip for a moment. “He and Zachary were headed that way after breakfast. But I’ve got an idea.” She waved me off. “Go, tell the Professor that we’re bored and want to listen in on Zach’s lessons—make something up, ogle him a little. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m going to make some iced tea for us to sip while we work.”
Before I could offer to help, she turned on her heel and whisked into the kitchen. I started for the library. Actually something cool to drink while we researched sounded like a good idea. But ogling the Professor? Not so much.
When the Professor spotted me coming in through the library’s door, he set the stack of books he was carrying on the edge of a desk and eyed me.
“Is there something I can do for you, Annie?” he asked.
“Selena and I thought we’d listen in on Zach’s lessons today, if you don’t mind.”
“Unfortunately”—he patted the books—“today is reserved for translating. I suspect you two would find it exceedingly dull unless you happen to have an interest in ancient Greek or Arabic.”
“We found it!” Zachary’s voice came from deep within the stacks. A moment later, he appeared with a huge brass and leather-bound book in his hands. Chase followed close behind.
I smiled at Chase. “I thought you were with Dad?”
“I was, but he decided to take a nap. Anyway, Tibbs is with him.” His gaze flashed to the book Zachary was carrying and back to me, indicating that it was why he’d come.
“Ah, you found it,” the Professor said. “Be careful, Zachary. Why don’t you let Chase handle it from here?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tear it or nothing.” Zachary gently set the book down on the desk.
As Chase settled into the desk chair, I squeezed in between the Professor and Zachary.
Chase undid the book’s brass clasps and opened it to the first page.
Leaning forward, I studied the lettering. It reminded me uncomfortably of the inscription I’d copied off the ring. “How old is it?”
The Professor slid a finger down the edge of the book. “I would say, very seriously old. But it is not Galland’s Voyages of Sinbad that I suggested Chase read.”
“Whatever,” Chase murmured as he turned the page, revealing a detailed woodcut of a man in a flowing robe, cupping a small clay oil lamp in his hand. The lamp’s smoke coiled skyward, transforming into the shape of a bare-chested and particularly muscular man with a long black ponytail: a genie. A genie and a lamp.
I glanced at Chase, hoping to catch his eye again. But his head remained bowed over the page.
Zachary wriggled out from between the Professor and me, and went and hung over Chase’s shoulder. “C’mon, Chase, read it aloud—in Arabic and English.”
Chase frowned at him. “Sorry, buddy. I don’t do out loud.” He cocked his head at the Professor. “Galland’s didn’t have any references to Methuselah and that’s what I’m doing my report on.”
“That”—the Professor’s voice ballooned like he was in a lecture hall—“would be because Methuselah is absolutely not in any of the Arabian Nights Tales.”
Zachary tsked. “Yes, he is. Chase said so.”
“What I said, Zachary, was that he should be in them.” Chase flipped to
another page.
I rubbed my neck. Probably a quick Internet search could prove whether the Professor or Chase was right about Methuselah, but my bag and phone were in my room. I also had faith that Chase knew what he was doing.
Another thought hit me and I glanced around the library. Damn. Why hadn’t I thought of that right away? With all the dark corners and book stacks, we’d never know if a shadow was in here, listening to us and gathering information to take back to Dad.
The sound of ice clinking against glass came from the doorway and Selena sauntered in carrying a tray of drinks and pretzels. “Salty and sweet. The perfect brain food.” She set the tray down on a stand by the door, picked up one glass, and came over to us. “This is for you, Professor. Extra sweet, just the way you like it. With mint to help settle your stomach.”
“How perfectly thoughtful.” The Professor took the glass from her and scanned us all. “Remember to be careful. One spilt drink can cause monumental damage in a library.”
We all nodded and went to get our own drinks.
As much as I wanted to return to where Chase and Zachary were poring over the old text, I left them to their work and wandered into the stacks with my tea to look for any sign of shadows. All the research in the world wouldn’t do us any good if the genie’s henchmen figured out what we were up to.
As I reached the back section, the light grew dim. I set my tea on a small stand and skimmed my fingers down the outside of my pocket, feeling the shape of my flashlight.
I sniffed the air, checking for the scent of bleach, like I’d smelled when I almost fainted in Dad’s room. Nothing, just the scent of beeswax polish and old books. Not even a trace of must.
I peered through the stacks, looking for dark shapes or movements.
Nothing, again.
The air temperature was normal, and I couldn’t hear any strange whispers.
Now I just had to find a way to lock all the doors and windows without the Professor asking what I was up to, then the library would remain a genie-free zone.
“Are you sick?” Zachary’s voice filled the library.
