Genie Knows Best (12 page)

Berosus waved off the servants who’d started forward at Kal’s gross misconduct, just as Kal would expect. The Oracle knew The Code of Djinn Conduct as well as he did. Probably better since Berosus had had a hand in crafting it, though The Code read like an elementary school primer compared to that allegorical mess the man had just spouted.

“Sam, would you like to make a wish?” Kal asked.

Samantha cleared her throat and curled her fingers over his.

Did she want to make a wish? Dear God, yes. Every word this man had spoken had been another lance to her self-esteem. And the gift? Another jab at the farce this scene had become, and she had no idea how to put an end to it.

Her. Giving them hope. Changing history. Changing destiny. She was a fraud, for God’s sake. Was she supposed to come out and tell everyone? Stand up and shout from the rooftops that she’d had only the smallest part in fixing things? That without Kal she was useless? And that their supposed all-knowing Oracle didn’t know a thing about her?

She touched the stone hanging between her breasts. Dirham was wrong; it wasn’t cool. There was some warmth to it. She was the one who was cold.

Thank God Kal had given her a way out. “Yes, Kal, I do want to make a wish. Everything’s catching up to me.” That was a way to phrase the fact that Albert’s betrayal had nothing over her own self-doubt, and this guy, this supposed Oracle, had only shredded it even more. “I wish we could go somewhere and rest.”

“Ooh! Ooh! I know where you can take her, Kal!” Dirham bounced on his cushion. “There’s a hoodoo with your name on it. Well, not your actual name because, you know, that’s going to take a little while to carve and no one thought to wish for that, but the
peris
spruced up one of the vacant ones just for you guys, making it all nice and cozy inside. And there’s some food and pomegranate juice and even a shower. You should see it, Samantha.”

Dirham shook himself. “Oh, I guess you will when Kal takes you there. Is that okay, Berosus, I mean, Your Most Supreme Oracle? Kal wouldn’t have interrupted if it weren’t important, and he’s right. Samantha has been up a very long time. You’re okay with that, aren’t you? I mean, she has Kal’s lantern and received your revelation so she’s all set to go, right?”

Samantha didn’t know whether to kiss Dirham or muzzle him. Kal, too.

Then Kal linked their fingers and, scratch that; she knew exactly which she’d choose for him. He waved his other hand, and a plume of orange smoke clouded the Oracle’s smiling face as he waved good-bye to them.

That rushing feeling came over her again. Her body felt as if grains of sand were pinging it as she traveled on an air current at the speed of light, the analogy to her life sadly illuminating.

But as quick as she’d thought it (the flying thing, not her life story) the rush was over and the smoke drifted away to reveal a tall, cone-shaped, Dr. Seuss-like building with a flat, round stone covered in mosaic tiles standing on edge atop the chimney. A pair of crooked, barren trees straight out of Whoville graced either side of the funky arched door that swung open with another wave of Kal’s hand.

Inside, vibrantly dyed silk panels covered the walls above a mahogany dresser inlaid with gold filigree, and a matching pair of night tables sat on either side of the silk-covered bed that invited one to do anything but sleep.

Part of her was up for that. The other part wasn’t up at all. The nap hadn’t even taken the edge off her fatigue; the rest of the day’s events had only added to it.

“Samantha? Are you okay?” Kal asked, holding the door open so she could enter. He must have
never
had a girlfriend to ask that question.

She removed the eagle necklace. It’d be more true to life if it were an albatross.

She set it and the lantern on the dresser. “If it’s all the same to you, Kal, I just wish to be alone for a little while.”

Nothing like tying his hands. And not in any way that had to do with the silver cuffs that bound him to The Service.

Kal sat on the end of the bed and looked at his hands as they hung between his knees, the image of Samantha tying them—preferably to the bedpost—front and center in his mind. She was tying him in knots, too.

She’d wished to be alone, not revisit what had happened between them at the spa. He would put her mood down to being exhausted, but the tear and her wish said it was more than that. Thankfully, though, she hadn’t put a longer time frame or location on that wish, but even a few minutes was too long when she was so sad.

He looked at the door to the bathroom with half a mind to drag her out to talk to him, but the Roman plumbing came on, and the image of Samantha in the shower not only nailed him to the bed but had him wanting.

The memory of her hands on him had him aching.

The taste of her had him longing.

But the tears in her eyes had him worrying. Which meant he had work to do. After all, with or without his magic, his job was to see to her well-being. His mental musings would be far better used in figuring out the clichéd platitude wrapped around an enigma disguised as a profound revelation Berosus had given them instead of trying to figure out what was bothering her. She’d tell him when she wanted to.

The bigger issue was what in
Al-Jaheem
Berosus had meant.

Kal picked up the eagle necklace and ran his fingers over it. As far as knowledge went, the eagle was imparting none.

He closed his eyes and tried to summon the power the carnelian held. Djinn were tuned in to the properties of gems; the stones enhanced magical powers like a life force and became the Glimmer their magic released, but this one was doing nothing for him.

Sighing, Kal opened his eyes and his fist. The stone looked exactly the same, no light inside it as in others he’d held, and he was no closer to the answer than before he’d held it.

He set it on the side table, cranked the skylight open, then lay back on the bed’s silk coverlet, replaying Berosus’s riddle. What did it mean? What were they supposed to learn? To know?

Kal tried translating the words into other languages to see if there were different meanings, different interpretations, but nothing came to him.

Kharah
! How was he supposed to take care of Samantha if he couldn’t figure out what the Oracle had been trying to tell them?

He couldn’t let Monty down. Monty had kept his lantern in that safe, locked away except for when they’d played chess, to ensure that Kal would be around to look out for Samantha when Monty wouldn’t be. That was the promise he’d demanded of Kal. Not wished, but demanded. He’d given Kal a choice, though as far as Kal was concerned, there had been no choice. His job was to look after his master, so look after her he would. But he’d given Monty his word as a man, not a genie.

And now he was failing both his last master and his job.

Kal pinched the bridge of his nose. There had to be something. Some key to figuring out Berosus’s riddle.

He tried to will his mind to go blank. To stop thinking and let his subconscious work it out. Sometimes intuitive reasoning could come up with the answer the conscious brain couldn’t. He’d learned the technique from his sixteenth master. Tansar had been a high priest and a scholar; getting him to make wishes had been harder than milking a camel—and Tansar hadn’t let him do even
that
by magic.

Kal closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He focused on the blue sky above Izaaz, and imagined the flow of water over the Weeping Wall, the lush palms that lined its verdant shoreline. Peaceful, serene, floating wherever the water and his thoughts took him.

He opened his eyes and looked up. The sky was no longer blue; the open capstone allowed the beginnings of the pale-pink evening sky into the room. Pale-pink sky that would lead to the darkness of night. When he and Samantha would be here, sharing the hoodoo.

The shower cut off and Kal’s imagination went into overtime. More so when the towel rack jiggled and the mental image of Samantha wrapping a towel around her damp, naked body followed.

Kal cursed in Akkadian, the only language that had just the nuance he needed, and one unused enough to make him have to think about it and not Sam.

So much for meditation. He actively—forcibly—turned his thoughts to the revelation. Something,
anything
to get that image of her out of his head, because
that
had never been part of Monty’s plan.

His own, on the other hand… Kal shook his head
. The revelation. Focus on the revelation
.

The part about changing history bugged him the most. Oracles chose their words carefully, each one wrapped in a layer of meaning like an onion wrapped in its transparent yet strong skin. Berosus couldn’t possibly mean Samantha was to undo Faruq’s arrest, could he? Did he want Kal to transport her back to that point so they could do something to prevent Faruq from getting himself arrested, which would then ripple down through time so that the citizens wouldn’t abandon the town? And if so, what did that mean for him personally? Was that why he still had no clarification on his own request?

Frustration clawed at him—on many levels. Was he going to have to give up the chance at the job he wanted for Samantha? Gods, he hoped not. He was so close he could touch the title. To have to give it up for a master…

Not
just
any
master
.

And that was the problem. Sam
wasn’t
just any master. But she was still a master and a means to an end, and if she wished for him to do something about Faruq, his hands were tied.

It came back to that.

And when she walked out of the bathroom in just the towel and damp tendrils of hair clinging to her neck, he was still tied in knots.

He jumped to his feet, then sat on the wrought-iron chair at the table beside the door. The bed was the last place he should be with Sam in the room.

“Kal, what’s going on?” She nodded at the necklace. “What does he want from me?”

All sorts of answers lined up to be voiced, but they were what
Kal
wanted from her, not Berosus. And if he knew what Berosus wanted, Kal could skip the vizier post and go straight to High Master. “I don’t know, Sam. Oracles are typically obtuse. I say we sleep on it. Things are bound to look better in the morning.”

Then her towel slipped a half inch lower, and he didn’t see how anything would look better than that.

“Would you like something to sleep in?”
Please, gods, say
yes
, and not a bed covered in rose petals and surrounded by candlelight.

Although…

“A nightgown would be nice, yes. Thanks.”

Kal waved his hand. That was what he’d meant, but covering such perfection was a sacrilege. Just as it would be to sleep in this room and not touch her.

He didn’t know if he
could
not touch her.

That decided it. He was going to spend the night in his lantern, which showed how dire their—no,
his
—circumstance really was. Voluntarily sequestering oneself in one’s lantern wasn’t done without careful thought and consideration, but it was a better idea than spending the night out here wanting what he shouldn’t have.

“The robe’s a nice touch. Thank you.”

Kal opened his eyes. Sea green, the plush robe brought out the color of her eyes and covered her better than that
djellaba
. Saved his sanity, too. Barely.

“My pleasure.”

She started to say something but ended up nibbling on her lip. Gods. That was an image he’d take with him into the lantern where he’d have to do what he’d done over the past one hundred and sixty years to relieve his frustration.

He adjusted the waistband of his
sirwal
, redistributing the fall of the fabric. “If you don’t need anything else, Sam, I’ll be going.”

Question was, how was he going to get to his lantern without walking past her? Climbing over the bed wasn’t a better idea.

The situation got more complicated when she walked around that bed and put her hand on his arm. “You’re leaving me?”

Not in a thousand years. Hell, it’d taken him two thousand to find her.

“I thought I’d spend the night in my lantern.” Him and his good intentions…

“Oh. Is that what genies do? I thought you didn’t like being in there.”

Normally, no. Tonight a lot of things were different. “It’s okay, Sam. It’s comfortable in there. I have a kitchen and a den, some workout equipment, a bed.”

A very big bed. A very big, comfortable bed. A very big, comfortable,
lonely
bed.

“Oh. Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning and we can figure all of this out. What should I do with your lantern? Keep it here on the table or somewhere else?”

On
the
pillow
was too corny of an answer. And too tempting.

Not that he would be able to do anything about that once he was inside. Which, with the way the water from the shower had dewed on her shoulder, the way that tendril was drying and springing to life right in that soft spot beneath her ear, and the way that hint of cleavage at the vee of her robe was beckoning him, was a really good thing. The only way he would be able to leave the lantern was if she summoned him, so they’d both be safe—her from him and him from himself.

“That’s fine, Samantha. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

And with that, Kal summoned his smoke cloud and whisked himself inside the lantern and out of temptation’s way.

***

Kal disappeared before her eyes, and Samantha felt the loss immediately. If she needed him? God, he didn’t know how on target he was with those words.

Was it wrong to want to wish him to hold her? Just lie next to her and hold her all night and tell her that it was all going to be okay? That it was okay if everyone thought she was something she wasn’t? That it was okay to use him for his magic so she’d look good in the eyes of the citizens of Izaaz and the Oracle?

That she wasn’t totally useless?

Samantha pulled back the silk bedcovering and climbed between the cotton sheets. Fifteen hundred count, if she wasn’t mistaken. Heh. There was something else she was good at: picking out good bedding. Not totally useless.

Samantha flopped back onto the pillow. She was wallowing and that wasn’t like her. And she wasn’t useless. Not really. So she couldn’t fix this place without magic; big deal. No one but Kal could, either—and they
had
magic. Besides, it wasn’t as if they thought
she
was the one doing the magic; they expected her to use Kal’s powers to their benefit. That’s how it worked.

So why was she upset about it?

They needed help, and she could provide it. No one expected anything different. She, however, did. Albert’s words stung. The truth in them. So she’d seen a chance to help out and she had; how was that any different than what she did with the charities back home? There was a need for her services, and she fulfilled it.

But she wanted to be more than that. Wanted something she could be proud of—she wasn’t very proud of herself for allowing Albert to run Dad’s company. She should have stepped in. Should have manned up, as the saying goes, and taken the responsibility. But it’d been easier not to. Easier to allow Albert to do it while she sat at Dad’s bedside.

Well, she didn’t have that excuse now. Dad was gone, the company wasn’t, and Albert would be as soon as she got home. Then it would all be up to her. The question was: Was she up for the challenge? Was she up for more than just being a mouthpiece?

She punched the pillow, trying to get more comfortable, but sadly, not only didn’t it work, but she didn’t think anything would make her more comfortable.

Saying she was going to take over was all fine and good, but if she’d thought Albert’s learning curve had been steep, hers was going to be almost vertical.

Then again… she had a genie to help her.

But was that what she really wanted? How did using Kal to do her job make her any less useless than she was now?

She flopped back onto the pillow. She’d think about that tomorrow; today had been enough to wrap her brain around.

Samantha pulled the sheets up. The skylight was open and it was getting chilly. She was about to close it when a shooting star arced across the sky in the center of the opening and she decided to keep it open. Maybe she should make a wish.

Samantha snorted. Make a wish. That’s hadn’t solved any of her problems yet, merely created new ones.

She ran a finger along Kal’s lantern. He was in there. What did he see when he looked out? What was it like looking at the inside of a lantern day in and day out for years?

Four thousand of them.

She rubbed her forehead. She had to stop thinking. Her emotions were getting the best of her. She needed to get some sleep. She’d been up for over twenty-four hours; no one thought clearly after being awake that long, especially with all the upheaval she’d been through. Kal was right. Everything would look better in the morning.

Funny how he turned out to be right about that—but not in the way either of them had thought he’d meant. And then, only for a little while. A
very
little while.