01 Summoned-Summoned (14 page)

She takes the bottle. “I was thinking we should go out and do something. See a movie, maybe?”

My head throbs, but at least it's not the hum. 

“I'm really tired,” I say.

That's an understatement. Zombies look more alive than I do right now. Or at least feel.

She turns her lips up then shrugs. “I kind of figured. That's why I brought these.”

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a stack of DVD's. 

I smile a little as I lumber past her toward the hall. “Come on, we'll watch them on the computer.”

In my room, she boots up the computer and pops in a movie. I sit on the bed, back to the headboard, and drink down another bottle of water. I feel like I spent days wandering the Sahara.

Syd crawls onto the bed next to me.

I hold up the blanket. “Naked and under the covers.”

She grins, and then wiggles out of the black top and long pants with slits up the side. Next goes the red lacy bra and matching panties. They are nice, but what's underneath is nicer. When she slinks next to me, her skin pressing against mine. She's warm and soft and smells like coconut. It's rejuvenating. 

I put the water aside and slide my hand under the blanket to cup one of her breasts. She squirms closer to me, her leg over mine, her pelvis turned against my thigh.

“What are we watching?” My eyes are heavy, and I'm focused on the smoothness of her skin as I trail my fingers around and under one breast then another.

“Aladdin,” she says. “Aren't you paying attention?”

Fantastic. Just what I wanted: a cartoon about a genie. At least Robin William's genie doesn't stuff ball gags in the mouths of businessmen before stabbing them in the throat. If I recall. That doesn't sound Disney to me, anyway.

I move my hand down her stomach. “I'm more interested in the show on my bed.” 

“It's not a show—yet.” She looks up at me and grins, then turns back to her movie.

My hand slides between her legs, and she clamps her thighs, nestling her warmth against my fingers. 

I want this, every day, but my mind is too tired to contemplate how that might happen. 

After a few minutes, she repositions herself so her head and breast are on my lap, the curve of her spine facing me. 

She says, “You know, the word 'genie' comes from the word 'jinn'.”

“I didn't know that,” I say, and I resist adding that I don't care, either. 

She doesn't realize this is an awkward conversation.

“People often confuse them for demons, but it's not the same thing. Not entirely.” Her voice is muffled, but I can hear her well enough. “You know how the Bible says humans were made from dirt or clay? Well, the jinn were made from fire or smoke, or smokeless fire. They had genders and free will, and some were good and some were bad. It's actually still part of the Islamic faith.”

Syd is a walking encyclopedia.

“It started before them, though. Maybe as far back as Zoroastrianism or Sumer. Some people think part of the Islamic beliefs were adopted from pagan traditions that developed long before, in pre-Islamic Arabia. Belief in the jinn even migrated with people to the Canary Islands.”

“Isn't that where those people talk by whistling?”

Look at that, I might have learned something from Phil after all.

She pauses. “Yeah, I think so. Anyway, it's said the jinn lived in a different dimension than ours, but they could travel back and forth. In our dimension, they could take forms of animals and even look like humans. Once Islam took hold, contact between the two races was forbidden. But one of the last pre-Islam poets to write about the jinn was Al-Nabigha, who lived between five-hundred and six-hundred B.C.” 

I stare at her rounded shoulders, my brain only absorbing a small fraction of what she is saying. “I don't think I know what we're talking about, Syd.”

She turns onto her back to look at me, still half sprawled in my lap. “It's just strange how much the story has changed over the years. The jinn date back to probably even A.D. They were considered a separate but equal race to humans.

“Eventually, we started smooshing up the story. So many things impact it. Translation, motive, perspective, and all these other little factors. Then one day we have a blue cartoon character dancing and singing. But there's little bits of the truth in all of it, right? Even this.” She gestures at the movie playing on the monitor. “This has truth in it, too.”

She stares at the ceiling for a long moment, then turns to the monitor across the room again. Her head is propped on her hand, elbow on my lap. It's kind of jabbing into me, but she looks delicate and beautiful laid out like that: her upper half naked and exposed, and her bottom half hidden under the blankets like she's a mermaid.

A genie and a mermaid. We're the start of a bad joke.

I lean forward and press my lips against her shoulder. She stretches to expose her neck, and I move up, one kiss at a time. She turns and catches my mouth with hers, leaning back. I work from underneath her, then wedge between her legs.

Her hand goes to the waist of my pants. My tongue grazes over hers, and she returns the gesture. I press against her so she can feel how badly I want her. Then I slip my arms under her shoulders and neck, and make my way down her chest, lingering on each nipple in turn. Kiss down her stomach, past her belly button, and work my way up the hill.

She tenses. I halt, letting her anticipation build. Then I graze my tongue over her folds. She shudders a breath. Another flick of my tongue, and she gasps my name.

It's so fucking hot.

I push back her thighs and delve in. I want to claim every part of her. Show her just how much I like being this way with her.

Her fingers run through my hair. I slide my hands under her hips and pull her closer, taking fuller access.

Her body twists and trembles.

She says, breathless, “Dim, up here.”

I give a gentle bite. I want her to grant me control, just for a few minutes, and then I will follow her anywhere.

She relaxes, melting into the bed. I glide my hand up and use two fingers to spread her apart. Every lick sends a spasm and soft moan through her.

Then she grows warmer, her body writhing, the soft moans louder and punctuated with my name. When her body falls still against the bed, I work out of my pants and crawl on top of her. She's always so available to me.

I take her with her legs wrapped around my waist, her head lulled back. She tightens her hold as I give a final thrust and groan into her neck.

All the tension from the day disappears.

Breathing heavily, I lie stomach-down next to her. Her eyes are closed, and she gives a little shudder. I work my arm over her and pull her close, then rest my head next to hers.

“Syd,” I say, though it comes out a whisper. “Are there . . . others?”

I already hate myself for asking. These are things not meant to be discussed, but I need the truth before I run away with her to New Mexico or wherever it is she wanted to go. That's not going to be a simple trip to pull off.

This entire relationship is not going to be simple.

She is quiet for a long while. Maybe she isn't even going to answer.

Then she says, “No. Not since we met.”

I raise my head. “You told me you had guys chasing after you.”

“Yes.” She speaks slowly, like she's not sure she wants to tell me the truth. “There were others, but that doesn't mean I wanted them.”

I am warmed and terrified in the same moment. 

She looks at me. “You?” 

I meet her gaze. Her dark eyes glimmer with so many thoughts I can't decipher.

Even though I shouldn't let this happen, I can't stop myself from telling her the truth. “No. There's no one else.”

Her expression relaxes. 

Then she scoots closer to me and mutters, “Keep it that way.”

I nuzzle my face next to hers. She intertwines her legs with mine and drifts off to sleep.

I might be the genie, but one of my wishes was granted for a change. Now I just have to figure out how to keep it.

***

Syd sleeps next to me until late morning. I want to spend the day lazing around together, but I can't rely on not being summoned again soon. Karl is up to something.

I used to think spending months at a time waiting for a wish was short of maddening. Now I know it was better than the alternative. These back-to-back tasks are exhausting.

And they're interfering. I never let women back for round two because my life is not conducive to relationships of any kind. But I think Syd and I could have found a balance the way my life was up until a week ago. Or maybe I just want the opportunity to give it a chance. 

Now everything has changed, and I have no idea why. Something to do with that donation. It has to be. If I could find out why he dropped one and a half million dollars on a hospital charity, then I could probably figure out the motive behind all of his wishes lately.

The real question is: Do I want to know? Karl is not a nice man, and I'm a firm believer that ignorance is bliss.

Silvia seems pretty damn happy, for example.

Syd lingers a while, kissing my chest and snuggling against my shoulder. I don't have it in me to kick her out of the house, but I can't really enjoy the moment either. I want to lay out the whole situation for her, but the thought alone sends a figurative dagger of disobedience into my skull.

I'm afraid to push the thought, because words said can never be unspoken. I have no idea what happens if I break a wish that can't be undone.

I have zero interest in finding out.

“You seem preoccupied,” Syd says, her hands planted on either side of me as I lie facing up on the bed.

“Yeah, sorry.” I raise up, and she sits back on her heels.

I really am a jerk of a boyfriend. 

She presses a kiss onto my lips and then climbs out of bed. “I should get home, anyway. Text me later?”

I prop up on my elbows and take in the length of her naked body. No other guys are allowed to do what I did to her last night. She's my own private rockstar.

“I'll text only if you send me pics.”

She bends down for her clothes and starts dressing. “Sure. How about a butterfly?”

“If that's what the kids are calling it these days.”

She grins as she pulls on the last of her clothes, then nudges my foot. “See ya later, captain.”

She blows me a kiss over her shoulder and leaves.

Syd is all mine. I don't know where this bus will wind up, but I've already strapped in. I'm going to ride it out to the end.

A manila envelope is already in my hands before my sight clears. I have been called to Ye Ol' Summoning Chamber. The scent of argan oil will never have a positive association to me.

“There is a box of books in that facility,” Karl says, leaning forward in his throne. “Bring it to me, then reduce the building to ash.”

My brain takes a minute to catch up. 

Ash.

“Arson?” I stare at him dumbly.

This is new.

“You're lucky we found the contents of the safe, Dimitri. Don't mess this one up.”

It takes an incredible amount of willpower not to point out that his intel screwed up, not me. Doesn't matter. All Karl cares about is the end result.

“Bring me the books and burn the facility,” he says. “And, Dimitri, the books are not for your perusal. This . . . I . . . wish.”

Let the humming commence.

I turn on my heels and head for the door leading to the foyer. The summoning chamber gives me the creeps, and I have an arson to plan. 

The envelope contains several sheets of information—descriptions, addresses, schedules—but no pictures. Nothing that will make this task easy.

Of course.

I flip back to the address: it's an anthropology center in San Diego, California.

Looks like I'm in for another road trip. I was hoping for some local crime, but Karl is circling wide. Something definitely has him in a tizzy, but I have no idea what an anthropology center has to do with a hospital.

I would ask the accountant what the donation check was made out for, but I don't like speaking with him. Not since that day when I demanded first class flights. When he had replied that Karl controlled every dealing with me, his expression had been . . . disquieting.

He seemed confused. Maybe afraid.

It occurred to me then that the mansion staff doesn't know who or what I am. They see me come and go, but my vehicles are never in the place they should be. They see the guards carrying off my prisoners. They see me leave from a room no one else but the family and the guards are allowed to enter.

Some of the staff worked here when my father was employed by Karl. Then one day he disappeared. No doubt they have stories. I wonder what their stories are, and if they're worse than the truth.

Even if the staff didn't regard me as an apparition, I wouldn't approach them anyway. They all work for Karl, not me. And if Karl wanted me to know what's going on, he would have told me himself.

I shouldn't be snooping, but I have a stake in this: my life. It might not be much of one, but I would prefer if it didn't end with any unnecessary drawn out agony.