Reach for You by Pat Esden (23)

CHAPTER 23

Abilities lurk within the nooks and crannies of our mind and souls, lost continents of knowledge and power awaiting our discovery.

—Persistence Freemont, “Introduction to the Arts”
In Compendium of Psychic Sciences (Vol. 1)
Boston, Massachusetts: Coryphacus Press, 1982

 

 

 

I stepped through the curtained doorway and into a closet-size room so dense with plumes of musky-orange-scented smoke that I had to cover my nose to keep from choking. Overhead, the ghostly shapes of towels and robes hung in the haze. Everywhere, earthenware jugs and bowls weighed down racks and shelves, each labeled with line drawings of plants and symbols that resembled the ones on the poison ring, the djinn’s magical language. In this case I suspected the words were fairly common: orange oil, myrrh resin, cinnamon bark. Incense waiting to be sprinkled on the hot coals that glowed in a pan that spanned most of the floor.

Jaquith touched my shoulder and nodded ahead. Squinting through the smoke, I made out another pierce-carved screen, nearly wall size. On the other side of it, a small alcove and potted rose topiaries shielded what lay beyond from my view. But the unmistakable trickle and slosh of water suggested it was a communal bath. As I tiptoed closer to the screen, what Jaquith had in mind became obvious.

A stone bench was shoved tight against the farther side of the screen. A gold robe and long white tunic were draped across it. Next to them lay an assortment of sashes, belts, and weapons, including Malphic’s moonstone knife. There was no way to reach through the pierce-carved screen. However, the screen did not go all the way to the floor. If someone were small enough they might be able to wiggle under the screen and come out on the other side, beneath the stone bench.

I took off my dagger so it wouldn’t clink on the floor and tucked it into a pocket. Whether I could fit through the slender gap was a good question. Lotli could have done it with ease, but right now she was—

Images of Lotli walking her fingers down Chase’s sweat-slicked arms wormed their way into my head, her bending close to the fight cage’s bars, licking her lips and whispering lies about me, about him and her.

Clenching my teeth, I willed Lotli from my head. I dropped down on my hands and knees, and started belly-crawling under the screen. It was only once I was halfway under the screen—and too late to retract—when another thought rose. Could this be a setup? A clever way to separate me and Dad and make capturing us easier?

My shoulder bumped the screen. It jiggled. I froze, not even daring to breathe. One second passed, then two. I let out my breath, flattened myself as much as possible, and wormed forward until the front half of my body was through to the other side and beneath the bench. I couldn’t worry. I just needed to get the knife as fast as possible. It wasn’t like I was out in the open. The rose topiaries did partially shield me from their view.

The air was hotter and more humid on this side of the screen. The sound of the water sloshing was louder, too. I caught a glimpse of palm trees, white sand, and a waterfall trickling into a scallop-shaped pool. The Sovereign Mistress Vephra lay naked in the pool’s shallow end, her black hair sprawled out across the water. Malphic was breaststroking toward her like a dark-eyed barracuda, the waves from his movement lapping against her very pregnant belly. Water shone on his shaved head and trimmed black beard, the tattoos that covered his face and body glistened.

I bit my lip, an evil thought forming. What would happen if someone dumped a few sandwich bags full of salt into that water? I frowned. For that matter, why were beings that were made of smoke-less fire paddling around in a pool?

Malphic went under the water, resurfacing a second later next to her belly. A wicked gleam sparked in his eyes. He scooped her from the water, carrying her out of the pool and toward a mound of embroidered floor pillows. She struggled against him and let out a playful squeal. I closed my eyes. I really didn’t want to witness whatever was about to happen. But this was perfect timing for me.

I pushed even farther forward and twisted onto my back to where I could see the clothes and weapons. One inch at a time, I reached toward the knife until I wrapped my fingers around its handle. It was thicker and heavier than I expected. I slowly brought it downward.

Vephra murmured. I heard a shushing noise. A cushion moving? A footstep?

Heart in my throat, I began to slither backward. Jaquith’s hand pressed my leg, holding me still. His other hand appeared from under the screen. “Give it to me,” he said, barely audible. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back with it.”

As the weight of the knife left my grip, an uneasy feeling washed over me. I wasn’t thrilled by the idea of leaving everything in Jaquith’s hands. What if he had totally different plans for the knife than he claimed? Even if he didn’t, what if something went wrong? I had no way of knowing if Dad was okay or not. Still, if Jaquith was trustworthy and all went well, then my waiting made perfect sense. The less movement I made, the less likely we’d get caught.

A flump-flump noise, as if someone were pounding bread dough, came from the general direction of Malphic and Vephra. I shifted ever so slightly and glanced their way.

Atop the cushions, she lay on her side. Malphic knelt over her, working his forearm against her buttocks, rolling strokes, firm and determined. He picked up a lavender bottle, poured oil onto his hands, and then moved downward, his fingers working against the tattooed cords of her legs. She stretched out and I got a full view of her swollen stomach, the tanned skin of her taut belly painted in a spiraling design like a maze. As Malphic massaged the inside of her thighs, her whole body began to shimmer brilliant blue. An image of Chase glowing when we made love flashed into my head, like brilliant blue diamonds.

Chase. I rubbed a cramp from my neck. I hoped with all my heart that his next fight was over with and that he was fine. Not that I wanted him to kill someone else, or be alone with Lotli.

An image of them alone in a cell burst into my mind, her stroking his body, caring for his wounds.

A headache pulsed in my temples. I scrunched down and nibbled on the willow bracelet that Selena had given me. Not a lot, just enough to stop the ache. I glanced back through the pierce-carved screen. Freaking hell. What was taking Jaquith so long?

Malphic moved on, his fingers anointing Vephra’s calves, her ankles, her feet, each toe, his fist rolling against the arch. She rolled onto her back. His hands slid up her hips. His butt was taut, muscles flexed. The air around him shimmered vibrant blue and began to crackle and vibrate just like when Chase and I made—

I clamped my hands over my mouth, a sour tang creeping up my throat. Oh my God. I really didn’t want to see this. But like the worst kind of voyeur, I couldn’t stop watching. This man had kidnapped my mother. This man was Chase’s father.

Something hard nudged my leg. Malphic’s knife. I took it from Jaquith’s hand, snaked out from under the bench, and put it back where I’d found it. I started to wriggle back under the screen, but I couldn’t stop myself from taking one last look.

Vephra lay on her other side now, Malphic’s hand just retreating from under her hips, as if he’d helped her roll over. Her body glistened from head to toe, shades of pale blue and lavender. Her eyes flickered closed as he began to massage her exposed hip, rolling his forearm against it, gentle and firm. A fluttery feeling tingled in my stomach, a strange mix of uneasiness, joy, and fear. I was glad and surprised to see this gentle and caring side of him. But what kind of man could do this and at the same time force his son to fight for his life and sanity?

I shook the sight from my mind and wormed backward under the screen. Jaquith pulled me to my feet. In a second, we were through the curtained doorway, sprinting across the harem gallery toward where Dad stood next to the cabinet, holding the deep sapphire bottle.

Thick gray smoke spiraled out of it, widening and narrowing as it curved downward and solidified into a tall, willowy woman in a deep crimson sari, golden skin, full lips. A ribbon held her hair up in a tousled twist. Mother.

She stared at Dad and he gaped at her. As we hurried toward them, I wasn’t sure if they were going to embrace or simply stand there forever.

Suddenly an oily black puddle of darkness skimmed across the floor toward them.

“Look out!” I screeched as the puddle rose up, a shadow-genie as brawny as Malphic’s most vicious spies.

Dad flung the bottle onto the divan and dove at the shadow, a salt shank in his hand. There was a wet thwack. Black goo flew from the shadow’s arm. The shadow staggered backward, yanking the shank from his flesh. Dad pulled a knife. The shadow charged, a trail of dark ooze spewing out from his dissolving arm.

I grabbed my flashlight, pinpointing its beam on the shadow’s face. He swung toward me and Jaquith, his face a whirlwind of anger and pain. I pocketed the flashlight and went for my bags of salt. He rocketed at us. I shot forward, throwing all my bags at the same time.

They hit him square in the chest, salt spraying out. His body exploded, a million black sparks. They splattered to the floor in an oily mass, then sucked back together, distorting into a gyrating version of Edvard Munch’s screaming man.

Mother’s face went white, her gaze flitting from the writhing shadow to me and back.

“We need to get him confined,” Jaquith said.

Dad’s eyes darted to the sapphire bottle. “Too bad we can’t put him in that.”

A bottle. An image of Selena flashed into my head, her standing in my bedroom not long before we left. She’d tapped a finger against the side of her head. “Magic is partly about focus and accessing energy, about self-control. But it mostly involves discovering spells and remembering words. . . .”

My ears rang, my thoughts jumbling as two other memories fought to find their way to the surface at once. I snatched the bottle from the divan, my breath coming in short pants. Somewhere in the background Dad said something, so did Mother and Jaquith. But their voices hummed like bees in the soundproof room and beneath the roar of the memories that vied for me to recall them and understand.

I circled my finger around the bottle’s gold rim, focusing with every ounce of my being. Guide me, Hecate. Keeper of the Gateways, show me the path, I prayed.

A strange tightness played behind my ears and they began to ring. That sound transformed into words I didn’t understand. It was an incantation I’d heard spoken twice before: once when Grandfather used it to return Culus to the poison ring, and again when Malphic commanded my ethereal body into the decanter the last time I was here. I didn’t know the language, but the words formed on my tongue, readying to be made audible by my lips.

I closed my eyes and raised the bottle. My mouth filled with the taste of salt and mushrooms, and the incantation flowed out, a living thing slithering into the air with an electric prickle. The scent of sandalwood, like Mother. The smell of roses, like Vephra. The rhythm of the incantation spun my thoughts into a fine thread, a single, focused line pulling the shadow-genie’s writhing body toward the bottle’s mouth, an irresistible tug and as strong as spider silk, a single pulsing vibration plucked on the string of a violin, a whistle in the dark, a ringing in my ears—

Every sensation vanished: the prickle, the sounds in my head . . . everything. Numb and overwhelmed, I stared at the bottle in my hand. Oily darkness circled the bottom. It spun into blue threads of flame, spiraling toward the open top.

Dad whipped the bottle from my hands and corked it with its stopper. He shook his head at me. “I don’t know when you learned that trick. But I’m impressed.”

Jaquith’s eyes were wide with amazement. “You know the old language?”

“Ah—” Know wasn’t exactly the right word for it.

Mother took me by the elbow. “This way. We need to hide the bottle and get out of here.”

That brought me back to my senses. I wrenched my arm from her grip, refusing to budge. “We have to get Chase and Lotli.”

“After we go to my chambers,” she insisted.

Heat flooded through me. Who was she to suddenly take charge? This wasn’t her rescue plan. Come to think about it, why hadn’t she tried to escape on her own? “No,” I said tartly. “There isn’t time for side trips.”

She flinched back as if I’d physically assaulted her. A pained look hovered in her eyes.

“Annie,” Dad said. His voice was hushed, but stern. “We’ll do as she says.”

I shot Dad a hard look. “Seriously, we don’t have time,” I mumbled. But as Mother headed across the harem gallery, I followed with everyone else. I should have been excited to see her after so many years, and I was. Sure, her stubborn abrasiveness rubbed me the wrong way and it made me wary. But the resentment I harbored toward her surprised even me, and I hated myself for it. She was my mother. We were together again, finally.

Mother reached the farthest wall and stopped in front of a curtained doorway, her stance once more confident, her composure regained. “Wait here,” she said to the men. “Annie, follow me. We need to adjust our outfits.”

My anger returned, blood boiling. But I kept my voice calm. “You go on. I’m fine just the way I am.”

Dad pressed his hand against my spine, propelling me forward. “I’m sure your mother has her reasons.”

“I suppose,” I said, exasperated. Saying no would only delay us longer.

On the other side of the curtain, Mother and I entered a small vestibule. From there we went into a massive bedroom, heavily draped in crimson silk. A wide doorway shielded by a beaded curtain opened onto a terrace piled with tasseled pillows. Everywhere crystal bowls held single water lilies.

I folded my arms across my chest, standing back and watching while she opened a curtained wardrobe and stashed the bottle behind the line of clothes. As she yanked out veils and sarongs and flung them over her arm, a deep sadness began to replace the resentment and wariness inside me.

The moonstone knife embroidered on all the curtains and pillows, and carved into the headboard made it painfully clear who shared this room with her. I also now suspected she hadn’t ordered Dad and Jaquith to wait outside for modesty’s sake. It was more out of habit or perhaps it even was a djinn law. Only one man was allowed in this room—and maybe others he favored.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. The last fifteen years had to have been hard on her in ways I didn’t even want to imagine. Ways that perhaps had made her feel unworthy of freedom, even when she’d had the chance—like when she chose to stay behind so Chase could have his freedom. Perhaps Dad’s love for her was beyond the borders of sanity. But after everything that had happened to her, how would she feel toward him or any man?

I gathered my nerve. It had to be said. “Dad realizes it’s not going to be easy once we get back home. He knows . . . Well, you’ve been separated for a long time. He feels horrible about not helping you.”

Mom glanced over her shoulder at me. “None of us can afford to live under regret’s shadow, Annie. No guilt. No remorse. Love—even if it’s just a memory—that’s where we’ll have to start.”

The sadness swelled inside me, extinguishing what remained of my anger and resentment. I nodded. She was right. And I was glad it was out in the open. If nothing more, it would make things easier between us. “I’m sorry I was an ass out there,” I said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

She turned back to the wardrobe, her shoulders rising like she was taking a deep breath or biting back tears. Then she plucked out a pair of slippers and carried everything to the bed.

“Both of us need to change our clothes,” she announced, laying out two jeweled sarongs.

I eyed the fancy clothes. This was her idea of adjusting our outfits? “I’ve got a woman-warrior’s tunic on under this robe. It would be faster than changing into all that.”

“Are you built like a warrior? If not, you’ll get us all caught.” She set a silk head mask on top of each set of clothes.

My stomach lurched. She wasn’t laying out just any kind of outfit. These were the robes worn by the human concubines, to give their ethereal bodies form when they appeared in public or serviced their masters.

I scowled. I could lie and claim that changing clothes would mess with the Methuselah oil’s effectiveness.

Mother rested one hand on her hip. “Beyond the walls of the harem, women are required to have two escorts: a eunuch and a guard. One woman with three eunuchs or a woman with two eunuchs and a scrawny warrior would be instantly detained. Two robed women with two eunuchs is inappropriate—but it will most likely be overlooked, especially since our party will include me and the head eunuch.”

My skin crawled as I picked up one of the head masks. It was creepy. But once I pulled it on, instead of my normal features all anyone would see was smooth silk with hollows where my eyes should be and rises in place of my nose and cheekbones. It was the perfect disguise.

“You can keep your underwear and jewelry, but remove the tunic and mitts,” she said.

I shut my brain off and dressed quickly. In truth, the sarong and silk head mask fit more comfortably than the brown eunuch’s robe with its rough fabric and massive hood. I could see better, too.

Mother helped me drape the veils over my head. The scent of her sandalwood perfume drifted off of them and from the sarong, enveloping me in its embrace. I closed my eyes, breathing in her smell. Once she was done, I adjusted my necklaces to make sure the egg pendant was as hidden as the flashlight and dagger that were tucked into the folds at my waistline.

“Perfect,” she said. Her voice gentled. “If I’d known you were coming, I wouldn’t have asked you to wear this. I’d have acquired an herbalist’s or a weaver’s smock for you. That’s what I wear when I slip away to tutor the boys. Chase was one of my favorites, bright and always caring for the others. A little hardheaded, though.”

My face heated and I smiled at her. “I really like him, too.”

Her gaze trapped mine, her expression hardening. “You do realize it might be too late for Chase?”

A sick feeling twisted inside me, but I kept my head raised and my voice inflexible. “No matter what, he’s coming home with us.”

She smiled, a reaction that took me by surprise. “You certainly do remind me of your aunt Kate.” A glint of pride touched her eyes. “But not just her, you’re very much like my grandmother. If she’d ever been attacked by a shadow, she’d have handled herself exactly like you did. You’ve heard the story about the blacksmith and King Solomon, right?”

I nodded, vaguely recalling something about the blacksmith being a toolmaker and sitting at King Solomon’s right hand, though I couldn’t understand why she’d bring that up right now.

“We descended from that blacksmith, you and I. Did your father ever tell you that?”

“No,” I said. But maybe he had and I’d passed it off as one of his made-up stories. I’d only recently discovered that those wild stories were in reality true.

She looked straight into my eyes. “One of Malphic’s favorite stories is about how Solomon’s genies bestowed a gift upon the blacksmith in honor of his bravery and cunning, a gift that allowed him to instill his magic into the tools and knives he created.”

I blinked at her, my head whirring from what she’d said. Our ancestor. His magic. His knives. Malphic’s favorite story. I longed to ask her what it all meant, but this wasn’t the place or time to get into it.

She touched my arm. “I wanted to make sure you knew. In case something happens.”

I glared at her. “Don’t even say that. We’re all going to be fine.”

“I hope you’re right, Annie. I really do.”

As she turned and began pulling on her robe, I hugged myself against a sudden chill. Maybe I’d sounded confident, but fear had gripped me until I could barely move.

Please, Hecate. Please get us all out of this alive.