Beyond Your Touch (19 page)

CHAPTER 21

 

—Wedding Announcement
James William Freemont & Susan Woodford

 

 

I
t was one of those weird things. Despite everything that had happened, the whole day had seemed to drag on forever. Then, zap, it was three thirty and we were at the mausoleum going over our plan. I told everyone about my encounter with the shadow. They thought it was worrisome. But it wasn't the first time the spy had made his way through into the gallery and it wasn't like he'd a chance to see or overhear anything, especially not what we were up to. Chase drew a basic map of Malphic's fortress—Blackspire. Just prior to the festival, Mom would be in the harem or the nearby baths. We would find her, then turn around and leave at once. He also agreed to steal the lamp while everyone else was at dinner, and I lent him my signet ring in case the lamp had been moved to someplace more secure.

What felt like a millisecond later, we were back at the house, it was early evening, dinner was over, and I was by myself heading up the main staircase. I intended to go straight to my room and start getting dressed. But, by the time I reached the landing, fears, worries, and a huge dose of sentimentality had taken ahold of me, so I changed my mind and veered toward Dad's bedroom instead.

No one saw me sneak to the west wing hallway and slip into his room. Hanging up on Dad's phone call hadn't sat well with me. I'd never done anything remotely like that to him before, and doing it now felt even worse.

I sat down at his desk, opened his top drawer, and took out a pad of paper and pen. As soon as Kate discovered that we'd gone to the realm, she undoubtedly would phone Dad and tell him. He'd be pissed at me for going, pissed at Chase for not putting an end to the plan, and double-pissed at Kate for not catching on to what we were up to. Actually
pissed
didn't even begin to describe how he'd feel. But beyond that, I needed to leave him a note, something just for him in case something happened to—

I set one elbow on the desktop and rested my forehead in my hand. I didn't want to think about why I might not be able to explain everything to him in person when he got back, that there was a real likelihood that I could end up enslaved or dead.

No. Don't think like that,
I told myself.

Then I sucked in a breath and began to write:

The pen's ink stuttered. I paused, scratching it on a piece of scrap paper in an attempt to get it flowing again. What I'd intended to write next was a sentence begging Dad to not attempt to rescue me and Mom or come to the djinn realm seeking revenge. But now that I'd had a moment to think, I realized asking him to do that was as foolish as trying to herd a swarm of angry wasps back into their nest.

I tossed the failing pen aside. As I went to get a new one from the drawer, I noticed a yellowed photograph lying upside down. I must have uncovered it when I took the pad of paper out. Across the back was scribbled:

I picked it up and turned it over. Mom was lying on a four-poster bed propped up on pillows, holding a newborn me in her arms. Dad stood proudly next to us.

A smile tweaked my lips. I looked away from the photo and toward the four-poster bed only a few yards away from me. The same bed as in the photo. The same room as well. This had been Mom and Dad's place, way back when we lived here, back before—

A searing wave of guilt and shame engulfed me. I closed my eyes against the recollection of Mama kissing Malphic in this room. Grandma cupping my face in her hands.
Liar. Liar. Liar,
the voice inside me chanted.
It's all your fault, everything that happened.

Clenching my teeth, I forced my eyes to open, to look at the four-poster bed in front of me as I swallowed back the harsh bitterness of what I'd done, the truth Dad needed to know, the one thing that might heal the rift between him and the family, the shame that belonged to me.

Determined to right that wrong, I picked up the pen and began to write again:

CHAPTER 22

 

—Malphic, Warlord of Blackspire

 

 

A
bout an hour before sunset, I divided the salt I'd swiped into a couple of baggies and stashed them and a mini flashlight in the robe's hidden pockets. The robe might have been as ugly as hell, but its pockets were awesome.

A nervous feeling twitched inside me as I draped the robe over my chair. I took off my clothes and jewelry and put on the linen shift. I checked the time and my e-mail. I was about to check the time again when Lotli arrived with her outfit stashed inside her backpack.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Fine, I guess. Mostly, I just want to get going.”

“Same here.”

She set her pack on the bed and I hugged myself, watching as she laid out her costume in layers: the glittery bra top and skirt, gold earrings and necklaces, her tiny medicine bag, and lastly her shimmery layers of muted orange, leaf-green, and soft blue veils.

Her gaze swooped toward me. “You're not wearing the necklace we made you?”

“I wasn't sure it went with pretending to be a eunuch.” On the other hand, Chase had picked out a fancy dagger for me. “Maybe it's okay, though. Genies do love their jewelry.”

“We wanted to thank you with a friendship gift, but we also had a selfish reason for creating it. We were hoping it would attract protection, for all our sakes.” She reached down, stroking the medicine bag. “We wouldn't dream of going without our talisman.”

“In that case, I'd be crazy not to, right?” In a way, personalizing my outfit would help to make me feel more like I was playing a leading role and less like a disposable background character. I retrieved the necklace from my dresser and put it on.

A quiet
knock-knock
came from the hallway door.

“Yeah?” I said.

“It's Chase.” The door opened and he slipped into the room, already dressed in his Death Warrior outfit, except for the headscarf part and that was looped around his neck.

I did a double take. “You were running around the house dressed like that?”

He scoffed. “Of course not. I got dressed in the elevator on my way up here from the basement. While you two were relaxing, I was getting this—” He reached into the folds of his sash and pulled out the lamp, plus my signet ring.

“Great,” I said, taking them from him.

He rocked back on his heels and studied me. “You look nervous. If you've changed your mind, you don't have to do this. No one will think any less of you.” His gaze went to Lotli. “You don't have to either. I don't care what Zea or Kate or anyone else says.”

She dipped her head. “We could not live with ourselves if we did not help and there is a chance Zea might forbid us from staying until another full moon.”

Forbid her? A sour taste crept up my throat. “I never thought of that,” I said.

I set the lamp and my ring on my dresser, then Chase and I headed into the bathroom to smudge our faces. While I tied my hair back into a loose ponytail, he used a lighter to scorch a cork from a wine bottle, charring it deep black.

“All right,” he said. “I'll do your face first, then you can do mine.”

I tipped my chin up and he bent close to me, holding the cork between his thumb and forefinger as he intently studied my face. Heat rushed up my neck and across my cheeks. I closed my eyes, shielding myself against his gaze. But his scent, enticing and so familiar, still assaulted me: the white-hot tang of a welder's torch, the lingering perfume of freshly mowed grass. He pulled the cork along my cheekbones, and his breath brushed against my skin. Oh God. I shifted my weight, trying to put an end to the thrum buzzing in my belly and between my legs. His grip on my chin tightened, fingers demanding but as smooth as satin sheets. The cork staggered down my nose and chin, followed by the press of his moist thumb. Finally, he released me and I let out my breath.

“Not bad. Almost fierce,” he said, stepping back.

I glanced in the mirror. Wide swaths of black wept down from my eyes and streaked my nose and chin. “Wow. I don't even want to meet myself in a dark alley.” I laughed.

His expression remained serious. “Your fingernails need to go too.”

Cringing, I clipped them off. Not that they were that long to start with, but it had taken work to keep them nice.

When I finished, he reached to his waist. “I made something for you.”

He pulled out a pair of fingerless mitts and handed them to me. They were soft and finely made, yet frayed to appear as if worn for years.

“They're wonderful,” I said, crushing them against my chest.

“I guess. Mostly, we don't need anyone noticing how pretty your hands are.” His voice was nonchalant, but a smile played on his lips and electricity crackled between us.

I went up on my tiptoes to give him a kiss, but jammed on my brakes and settled back down. It wasn't a thank-you peck I longed to give him. It was a deep kiss and a lingering embrace, the hot and lusty kind that would totally disrespect his need to stay in control.

My heart sank as I touched his arm and gave him a tepid smile. “Thanks.”

Without meeting my eyes, he dropped down on the closed toilet lid, even farther out of kissable range. “We should get my face done.”

I flicked on the lighter and scorched the cork, giving it a fresh coat of smudge. Once it cooled, Chase lifted his face to me and closed his eyes. His beard stubble sanded my palm as I cupped his chin. It wasn't easy, but I pushed past the desire coiling inside me and focused every ounce of my being on the structure of his face, its natural planes and hollows. I thought back to a deviant art image of a warrior I'd seen the other day on the Internet and used it for inspiration as I smudged crescents under his eyes, and shadows beneath his cheekbones and jawline.

In a few minutes, I was done. Between the smudging and his clothes, the transformation was startling. He looked brooding and imposing, breathtaking in a ferocious Death Warrior sort of way.

“What do you think?” I asked Lotli, as Chase and I went back out into the bedroom.

“Very nice,” she said, her voice going husky.

My jaw clenched, but the tension melted away. Who could blame her for reacting like that? Chase truly looked mouthwateringly gorgeous.

He cleared his throat. “There are a couple of last-minute things we need to discuss. . . .”

While he reminded us not to drink the super-potent wine or potentially intoxicating food, I put on my robe. It only took me a minute to get the strap around my waist and slide the dagger into position. Chase barely noticed what I was doing, so different from yesterday in the armory.

“Also you need to know about the doorways,” he said.

“Since genies can't open things that are locked, there are no doors. Instead they use curtains and carpets. Don't worry about going through a curtain. Granted, there are places where they have protection spells on them or curses, but not where we're going. However, under no circumstance use a magic carpet. Never.”

Lotli's eyes grew round. “Flying carpets? Zea would be very interested in that.”

“No.” Chase shook his head. “They don't fly. That's a myth, like the idea that genies are obliged to grant wishes. These carpets hang on walls like tapestries. They are throughout the fortress, but concentrated in the spires. They are gateways. Step through any one of them and you'll find yourself in a different room in the fortress—or in a different fortress altogether, or in the middle of the Red Desert face to face with one of the berserk. Get what I mean?”

“Curtains okay. Carpets bad,” I said.

He cast a scowl in my direction. “This is important. On festival nights, the top floor of the spire where we'll come out will be deserted. But the lower floors will be as busy as a train station with visitors using the carpets to come and go. It'll be the perfect cover for us. But dangerous as well.”

“I understand,” I said, taking my tone down a notch. I snagged my phone and glanced at the time. “We've got ten minutes. I'm going to check with everyone.”

I shot off a text to Selena and Tibbs.

Fine here,
Tibbs replied. He was in charge of watching Laura and Kate.

A second later, Selena texted.

I typed:
Hugs back at u. See you at sunrise.

“We're all set,” I said.

Chase picked up the lamp. “Remember, once you two put the oil on and sunset comes, you'll turn into shadows here. When we reach the other side of the veil, you'll instantly be solid again. We can leave their realm anytime we want as long as Lotli can force the veil open with her flute. Without that magic, we'll have to wait until sunrise when the oil wears off and the two of you turn ethereal. Understand?”

“We understand,” Lotli said.

You two?
Chase's words nipped at the back of my mind and I glanced at him. “You're not going to use the oil?”

He rubbed his branded collarbone, a sign that my question was something he'd rather have avoided. He blew out a long breath. “I can't use it. It's impossible to predict what it would do to me, since it affects genies and humans in opposite ways. It doesn't matter anyway. No matter what side I'm on, I'll be solid.”

“But what if something happens to our flute?” Lotli asked, her voice edging toward panic. “If you are solid, you will not be able to get through even an unwarded weak point in the veil, are we not correct?”

I lowered my voice, trying to sound relaxed. “That's not exactly true. Once we turn ethereal—even without the flute—either one of us can help him get through. We just need to wrap our arms around him like a cloak. That's how Kate helped him get through last time.” I narrowed my eyes, pinpointing Chase. “But you should have told us about this before now.”

He raised his arms in surrender. “Everyone had enough to worry about. I thought—I'm sorry.”

As much as I didn't like it, I knew where he was coming from. He was Chase. Of course he'd thought it was better to shield us from yet another worry for as long as possible. “It's all right, I guess. I don't blame you,” I said.

But there still was another layer to that fear, something that hung silent in the air between the three of us. Kate might have cloaked Chase and got him safely through the veil, but my mother had been left behind because Malphic had cast a warding spell that sealed the veil before she could pass. Without Lotli and her flute, if new wards were created, we would not be able to break them.

I gritted my teeth, forcing that possibility from my mind. I couldn't afford to think about that now. None of us could. I pulled my shoulders back and thrust out my hand, gesturing for Chase to hand me the lamp. “We need to get on with this.”

Lotli lowered her head. “We are ready.”

I dribbled the oil over her. It wasn't like last month, when I'd broken the lamp in hopes that its oil would free Dad from being genie-possessed. This time, it oozed slowly, spreading out from where I poured it, shimmering down her body and clothes. She raised her arms and the oil swept upward to coat each fingertip. There was no smell or blackness, or oily excesses puddling on the floor. No sound either.

“It feels like worms slithering all over us,” she said.

As I watched the oil work its way over the rest of her, my whole body began to tremble from fear. So instead of waiting for her to douse me, I lifted the lamp, closed my eyes, and got it over with.

Shivers shot across my skin as the oil coated my hair and rushed down my neck, not cold or warm, just a writhing sensation making every nerve ending stand on edge. When every part of me was sheathed, the writhing faded and the only indication that I'd applied anything was a slight resistance, like being sealed in a thin layer of varnish. I probably wouldn't have even noticed if I wasn't paying close attention.

I gave a nervous laugh. “One thing's for sure, we'll know when it's officially sunset.”

Chase raised an eyebrow. “Like now?”

“What do you mean—?” I stopped talking as a strange vibrating feeling whisked over my entire body, followed by tingles. I glanced at Lotli. She was staring at me, her eyes wide with horror and fascination, and her lips parted as she undoubtedly watched my solid body shimmer and turn ethereal, like hers was.
Holy shit.
She was—I was as transparent as mist, nothing more than a ghostly shadow.