Secret Worlds (104 page)

I pull her shirt over her head, and her mouth comes right back to mine. Her teeth nip at my bottom lip as I unfasten her pants. I can't undress her fast enough. I want to touch her, claim her as mine.

She pulls away to squirm out of the rest of her clothes. Then she's at me again, yanking back the covers and biting her way down my neck, my chest. Something tells me Syd needs this just as bad as I do.

I move forward, laying her back against the mattress and crawling over her. She's different this time. The way her body moves under me, pressing against me, the way her legs tighten around my waist as I slide inside—I know she meant what she said. She loves the jinn.

Even if the jinn turned out to be human.

Her teeth sink into my shoulder in a way that just makes me want her more. And when she comes, she bites down harder, muffling her cries. I push deeper, wanting the release and this to last forever at the same time. She kisses me, long and hungrily, until the end. Then we curl up together and, at long last, sleep.

***

In the morning, we hit the road. We have clean clothes, cold water, and plenty of food. All the things we will never take for granted again. Zoe talks nearly non-stop to Syd, blatantly ignoring me. I deserve that. Syd gives me a reassuring smile. I grin and turn to watch out the window.

We drive straight through New Mexico and don't stop until we reach Houston. Syd has booked us a one-way flight, routed through Greensboro as I requested.

During our eight-hour layover, we rent a car and drive to Dansville, Virginia.

I knock on Patricia Kerr's door, Syd and Zoe right behind me.

Patricia answers, and her face is a Rubik's cube of emotions.

“Still sane.” I tap my temple. “Can we come in for a minute?”

She blinks, then says, “Yes, yes, of course.”

She unlocks the screen door and invites us in. I glance back at the other two, who are standing close to each other, before stepping inside.

Patricia's eyes are fixed on me. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks. We can't stay for long.” I pause, but there's no tactful way to approach this. “Karl is dead. Silvia is dead. I'm leaving the country.” 

I shift weight, hoping she will say something. Anything. But it's her turn to stare dumbly. I know how she feels.

I rub the back of my neck. “I guess I just wanted to let you know that it's … over. No one's coming for you. Especially not me.”

Her shoulders drop like she's Atlas relieved of the world. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure. They're very dead.”

She looks me up and down. “And you—are you ever coming back?”

“If I do, you won't see me.” I shrug and pull my jacket tighter. “I have no reason to be here.”

She nods. “Can I … Can I write a book about you?”

“Probably not,” I say without missing a beat.

She smiles, and then she touches my cheek. It's a small, quick motion, but I understand now. Like Syd, everything Patricia has been through no longer matters. Even if no one back on the farm will believe them, they have met the Wizard of Oz. Their entire existence has been validated.

“Be safe, Dimitri,” she says, her voice soft.

I nod, and then head out the door. Syd and Zoe follow right behind me. 

***

From Greensboro, we fly to JFK Airport and connect with our international flight. It's coach. I don't care. Syd sits next to me, and Zoe sits on the other side of her.

We doze in our seats. We play hangman. We flip through Sky Mall.

And fourteen hours later, we land in Naples, Italy.

Naples feels like a giant resort. I can't imagine a better place for us to grieve and then find happiness again. Or for the first time.

Syd's grandmother is worthy of all the acclaim. She knows who I am, but she's neither afraid nor impressed. I like that most about her. She's spunky, and I can see Syd becoming just like that over the years. The best part is, I will know if she does.

During the afternoon, Syd and I go down to the beach. Zoe comes with us, but she's happy to wander on her own. She's a surprisingly resilient little kid. It must run in the women in this family.

I step into the surf and stare into the sea. The Mediterranean. Fifteen hundred years ago, my ancestor stood on the southern coast of this same body of water. Fifteen hundred years ago, he made a decision that would impact every generation after him.

On the drive to Houston, before my phone gave up completely, I searched Al-Jamila. No results returned for the jinn, but I didn't expect any. She has been forgotten by the rest of the world. But what I did learn is that her name is Arabic for The Beautiful. 

I bet she was, and I bet it wasn't just on the outside. Some man who is tied to my blood by a century and a half loved her so much that he gave up everything to save her. I should be bitter I got the short end of that deal. Then I look at Syd, and I can't blame him. Not at all.

It's not until I stand with the Mediterranean at my feet and the blue sky above my head that I realize—truly comprehend—that I don't have to be here. I don't have to be anywhere, or do anything. And, I admit, the thought is scary. Maybe even terrifying.

No more Karl to make a phone call to fix my mistakes. No more identities to hide behind.

I'm no longer Leo or Alan or Alex. 

I'm Dimitri.

And I am free.

What should have been a simple trip to confirm once and for all if the jinn are living among humans, instead reveals a community keeping dark secrets.

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Rainy Kaye is an aspiring overlord. In the meantime, she blogs at
RainyoftheDark
and writes paranormal novels from her lair somewhere in Phoenix, Arizona.

She is represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA. Someone told her she's a USA Today Bestselling author. She thought there would be cake.

Another spell gone kaput.
Damn
.

A thin curl of smoke wafted to the left from the candle’s weak flame, an omen of defeat. The same sign as last week when she tried to concoct a love potion with a lock of Tanner’s hair. If her family’s Book of Shadows were any lamer it would have a picture of freaking Tinker Bell on the front. She should have been studying tonight instead of casting worthless spells. Freshman year at college was harder than she’d anticipated.

Skye blew out the sputtering pink candle. No matter how hard she tried, they never worked. Maybe asking for Tanner to come over immediately and declare his hidden and undying love was too much of a stretch for even the all-powerful divine.

Bet Callie could do it.

Skye whipped out her cell phone, but stopped mid-dial. Callie would say it was wrong to request a specific person’s love because it violated their free will to choose for themselves. O
nly do a spell to open yourself to love and for the right person to come along
. Same thing Skye told customers at
The Green Fairy
trying to get their boyfriends back.

As if there could be anyone for her but Tanner.

What she really needed was courage. She should tell Tanner how she felt. It
was
possible he was blind to her feelings even after all these years.

The crunch of gravel in the driveway and the rumble of a car engine startled her and Skye opened the curtain. Tanner’s old Dodge Charger pulled up.

Unbelievable – her spell actually worked this time. Maybe she had some witchy-talent after all.

Tanner sprang out of the car, waved, then bounded up the steps laden with paper bags in both arms. His easy smile twisted her insides like it had since grade school.

She would do it. Tonight. Just get it over with. She’d mooned over him all during those miserable, outcast high school years when she’d been branded as the weird, Goth girl. College was supposed to be different. Her chance to escape labels and dare try new things.

Skye opened the door and Tanner stopped short, one fisted hand raised to knock. “Eager to see me?” His deep voice filled the silence, his tone was always teasing, always seemed to hold a secret laughter and confident charisma.

Skye’s breath caught for a moment. He looked sexy as hell with his dancing eyes and wind-swept hair. Her spell was answered; maybe her dreams would be too. If Callie were here, she would tell Skye to believe and all would work out.

“Michael asked me to drop this by.” Tanner held up the bags. “He noticed your fridge was looking pretty low last time you cooked for us.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.” She led him to the kitchen and put up the groceries, hyper aware of his masculine presence. “What’s Michael doing tonight?” Her brother and Tanner were almost always together.

Tanner wouldn’t quite meet her eye. “He’s busy. Where do you want me to put this bottle of Diet Coke?”

Everything clicked. Michael’s dad,
their
dad, was in town on a visit. A visit that didn’t include his daughter. It hurt, but it was no surprise. He’d left home not long after she was born and they were strangers. Michael had been two years old at the time. Time enough to, in pop psychology-speak, ‘bond’. Dear ole Dad must have slipped Michael some money and her brother was sweet enough to share.

“Just put it on the counter,” she said dully. Here she was trying to build her confidence to talk to Tanner and rejection slapped her in the face.

“Mind if I have one?” Without waiting for an answer, he filled a glass with ice and poured a drink.

Don’t let your father’s neglect keep you from talking to Tanner
.

Skye gathered her courage. “Tanner, can we talk?”

“Okay.” He pulled a chair up to the kitchen table and she sat across from him. “Shoot.”

She stared in his eyes; they always sparkled as if he was secretly amused by everybody and everything. In the ensuing silence, Skye heard the hum of the fridge, the drone of the TV from downstairs, and music blaring from several houses down.

“Spit it out.” Tanner hated stillness.

“How long have we known each other?”

“Fifth grade. Michael was the first friend I made when I moved to Piedmont. You were the second.”

Skye saw her opening. “Is that how you still think of me – as Michael’s little sister . . . a friend?”

“Of course.”

Her heart contracted into a hard little bundle of hurt. He certainly wasn’t keeping her in suspense; there had been no hesitation in his answer. He shifted his eyes to the floor. Not a good sign. But she might as well keep going. Her heart pounded and her palms sweated.

“What if I wanted more?” The words were quiet, but in the silence, the inner thrumming of Skye’s racing pulse roared in her ears.

Tanner’s mouth dropped open. He gulped. A couple of seconds ticked by. Major awkward. Oh goddesses, what had she been thinking? She’d ruined everything. Any chance or hope of . . .

“You’re joking, right?” He leaned across the table and cuffed her shoulder, very friend-like. “C’mon Skye, we’re buds. Always have been.” Tanner’s laugh sounded forced, his smile nervous.

Skye jumped up. “Right. Forget I said anything. I’m in a weird mood tonight, must be the full moon. Tell Michael thanks for the groceries.” She walked out of the claustrophobic kitchen quickly, eyes burning and face flaming. She would not cry.

She would
not
cry.

He followed her out and then paused to answer his cell phone. She heard his voice, low and hurried, “Hey, call you back in a few minutes.”

Probably some girl. It was always some other girl, never her. At least now she knew.

Skye sat on the couch and faced the TV as if she hadn’t gone and made a complete and total fool of herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tanner standing in the hallway, running his hands through his dark hair and shuffling his feet. Why the hell hadn’t she kept her mouth shut?

“Gotta go.” He held up the cell phone and waved it. “Some of us guys are getting together for a party.”

Skye took a deep breath and faced him with a fake smile. “Sure, see ya later.” She jerked her head back to the TV screen. She would not cry.

Skye was so intent on not crying she didn’t hear Tanner cross the room, and suddenly his breath was in her hair, his lips kissed the top of her head. The warm breath sent an electrifying tingle from her scalp to her toes. Skye dug her hands in the chair’s arms to keep from flinging herself on Tanner. This was nothing but a pity kiss.

The heat from Tanner’s body withdrew and he left without another word. Her body chilled from the loss of contact. The door shut. Alone, Skye let the tears flow. That kiss said what Tanner couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say to her face. She tried to convince herself that in knowledge was power and healing.

It didn’t work.

Skye touched the blackened, scorched wicks of the so-called magic candles. The dripping wax, still warm, mocked her failure with the botched love spell. Stay busy, that was the plan to get through this night. Resolutely, she put up the rest of the groceries Tanner brought, pulling out milk, butter, then a Mason jar of jam. Skye held the jar in her hand and paused.

The smooth, cool feel of the glass tingled and she drew a finger over its etched design of grapes and vines. The light and dark swirls of orange marmalade blurred into congealed sunshine and the glass warmed in her palms.

It was like holding magic again. At seven, she’d had her first experience with the possibility of something beyond the here-and-now of the physical world.

She’d captured a firefly one evening and put it in a Mason jar before going to bed. She’d awakened hours later and found the jar aglow with pinpoints of spinning light. Squeaking noises from it grew in volume to gibberish words and she’d pulled the cover over her head, terrified of what might happen next. At some point, she’d fallen asleep and the next morning the jar was empty. No dead fireflies inside, only a hairline crack running from the base to the lid.

There had been magic in that room, she was certain. Her first glimpse of the world beyond.

Skye set down the jam jar on the kitchen counter and sighed. Too bad there had been no magic for her tonight with Tanner.