01 Summoned-Summoned (23 page)

I yank off the rest of my clothes. Then I pick her up as I stand and push her back against the wall. She gives a surprised gasp. Her legs wrap around my waist. Her fingers dig into my back as I slide inside. She tenses like she thinks I'm going to drop her. I've got her wedged between me and the wall, though. She isn't going anywhere.

After a minute, she relaxes into the thrusting. Her head lulls forward and rests on top of mine. She grows wetter and warmer.

I want to bang her until one of us is unconscious.

Her grip on me tightens, her body clenching in all sorts of places. I lean against her, struggling to hold her up as I finish deep inside her.

Then I turn and place her back on the bed, her legs draped over the edge. I kneel between her thighs and kiss down her stomach until the twinges dissipate. Her fingers slide through my hair then trail over the back of my neck. A pleasant chill winds down my spine.

With a solid kiss on her belly button, I raise to my feet then scoot her up the bed a little as I crawl over her. My mouth takes her neck, her jaw, her breasts. I want to taste every part of her.

I nestle between her legs. She wraps around my waist again and rocks, slow and steady.

My lips linger over hers, and I whisper, “I'm not done with you yet.”

She smirks and grinds deeper. 

I take her again on the bed. Despite the exhaustion, my body is raging to be a part of hers. She cries into my neck, and I revel in the feel of her shuddering and gasping against me.

We kiss until calm takes over. Then I pull her close, and we nestle together in silence. I like that we don't have to talk about anything. We can just be.

I fade in and out of sleep, aware of her deep breathing and the way we fit together. And it's pretty damn awesome.

After a moment, Syd lifts her head. “Hey, where's my apple?”

I smile and use my hand to press her back to my shoulder. We are going to lie here forever.

She props onto her elbows. “Dimitri. Where's the apple?”

I glance at her, my eyes heavy. “It was a really . . . chaotic . . . trip. I forgot it.”

“You forgot it?” Her voice is sharp.

Sharp enough I open my eyes again. She is scowling, lines in her neck tense.

“Syd, it really was a crazy trip. I'm sorry.”

She scrambles off the bed.

I squint, mind groggy. “Are you . . . getting dressed?”

“No, Dimitri,” she says with a jab of anger. “I'm leaving.”

I sit, mind spinning. What the hell happened?

She turns to me, fully clothed. “Screw you.”

Then she's out the bedroom door, slamming it behind her. 

I pull on pants and stumble after her. “Syd, wait! What's going on?”

We come to a halt in the living room. She stands by the front door, her eyes and nose red from fighting back tears.

I try to understand what I missed, but I feel like I didn't get the memo. “What I do?”

“Nothing.” She yanks open the front door.

There is no way this is happening. Just minutes ago, we were content. More than content—happy. 

Now she's ready to walk out the door.

I go numb in a detached kind of way. I don't know what I did. I don't know why she's leaving. So I just stand there.

She glances over her shoulder at me. Tears stream down her face, and her expression is like she is being made to go. Like she wants to stay, but can't.

I find I'm speaking, though I'm not really thinking. “It wasn't going to happen, was it?”

She swallows hard, visibly. “What?”

“I can't keep up with everything.” The words just come, the ones I've been stomping down. “I can't be here when you need me. I can't runaway to Italy. I can't even go to New Mexico for a weekend.”

She stares at me, door still wide open revealing the night. If she steps out into it, she will never return. 

“I can't change anything, no matter how angry it makes me.” I lower my head. “If you stayed, you would have to give up everything. Your life, your band, your freedom.”

“My what?” Her eyes narrow, but it's like she's trying to see inside my head because my words aren't making any sense.

I wish she could to read my mind. It's the only way she'll ever know the entire truth.

“I don't have a band.” She takes a step back indoors, but there's no reconciliation in it. “Why would you think I have a band?”

I hesitate. “You told me. At the bar, when we met. You told me you were in a small band or something.”

“No, I did not.” She halts. Then she laughs but it's bitter. “You think I'm . . . in a band? What on Earth gave you that idea? My clothes?”

I'm back to just staring at her. My mind reels, trying to recall the exact moment, the exact verbiage, when she told me about her music.

She never did. Nothing even close. What the hell is wrong with me?

“You can't judge people by how they look, Dimitri. A band—are you serious?” She shakes her head. “My father is the second oldest of four brothers, and everyone holds at least one PhD. They all try to outdo the other. I just finished my bachelors in mythology, and I'm getting ready to start a dual masters in sociology. When I finish, I'm going for my doctorate. 

“This is all my family cares about. My grandmother can't stand the way her sons treat each other. She's disgusted by it, so she left for New Mexico. It wasn't far enough, Dim. That's how awful they are. Their own mother moved to Italy to get away from them. I wanted to go too . . . but I stayed.”

She looks at the floor, lost in thought.

I want to tell her that I'll take her to Italy. Or at least tell her why I can't. I would settle with anything at this point except what is happening.

Syd is leaving.

And I can't stop her.

She finally looks up. She's not angry anymore, but the disappointment is undeniable.

“You don't know anything about me.” A frown pulls at her face. “Nothing at all.”

“I do now,” I say, lamely. 

It doesn't matter if I do know her. She will never know me. The only fair thing to do is let her leave. She'll cry, and then she'll rationalize that I'm a loser. Then she'll move on.

At least one of us will. I'm not sure I can, or that I even want to.

“It doesn't matter anymore.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper. “All I wanted was an apple.”

I grit my teeth, my hair falling in my face, willing her to understand why I'm silent. If I can be trapped in a genie bond then it can't be too much to hope for one spark of telepathy before this situation shatters completely. 

Whether it's too much or not, the spark doesn't happen.

She continues to stare at the floor. “Aphrodite had many suitors. People claim it's because she was beautiful, but I always thought there was more to her than that. Whatever the reason, she had a long history of being courted. Dionysus fell in love with her, and to prove it, he created the golden apple and gave it to her.” 

Syd uses her hand to wipe away a few tears lingering on her cheeks. “It wasn't about the apple, Dim. I just wanted to know that you thought of me outside of the bedroom. And you don't.”

With that, she leaves. I continue to stand there long after the front door closes behind her. 

***

The urge to call Syd has me tapping my fingers over my phone. Maybe I should let her go, but I can't. I don't actually press any buttons though because calling her right now will just make her angry. 

If I don't push my luck, I might be able to work out something before she starts to hate me.

I can't blame her. I would hate me, too. I never acted like anything more than the one-night stand who kept her on speed dial.

I sit on my couch—it's not even my couch; it belongs to Karl, like every aspect of my life—staring at my phone. My leg bounces as I debate when I should call her and what I should say. Then I pull to my feet and pace the living room, back and forth, resentment and despair growing with each step.

If I call her, I have to give her an explanation.

If I don't call her, she will believe that I really don't care. That I only think of her when I want to go spelunking in her caves.

I grind my teeth as I continue to stalk across the room. There was always so much more to her. If I was just after easy parking, I could get with Silvia Strange. Hell, if I was smart, I would have done so and gained an upper hand in the future arrangement.

With a sigh, I collapse onto the couch again. I don't want Silvia. I don't want anyone else, just Syd. She gives me a little slice of another existence and makes me think it could be mine someday too.

She really is my rockstar.

Or was.

I don't text her, because I don't know what to say to bring her back.

I dress and sit on the couch. I'm not really awake, but I'm not asleep either. Somewhere in the zone, I think: This is it. This is the rest of my life. I will sit here until I am called to action. 

Maybe killing and kidnapping won't be so bad now. I don't care anymore.

When my vision tunnels, I'm not surprised. Not even worried. 

I open my eyes to Karl. His smirk does nothing to me. No more fear, and no more hatred. Apathy might be the answer. Maybe that's how all the other genies did it. Maybe Syd's purpose in my life was to numb me so I could survive the next twenty years. Everything makes sense now, in a screwed up kind of way.

Karl says, “I need you to kill this man, Dimitri.”

The guard hands me a manila envelope. My life is packaged in these. Delivered one piece at a time. At least I don't have any worries. I don't have to get a degree, or pay bills, or deal with volatile family. All I have to do is follow orders.

The words come next: “This . . . I . . . wish.”

The hum is sort of comforting. Maybe if I let it grow loud enough, it will drown out any thought I ever had about Syd. Then I will be able to focus on the wish. I can't keep the monster locked out anymore, so I'll let it in. 

Why not? Syd had said it herself: the jinn aren't even human.

I have been relieved of my moral compass.

As I exit the summoning chamber, I slip the papers from the envelope to meet my latest lucky contestant. His name is Mark. He has his Masters in Biological Anthropology. He lives local, but just returned from staying abroad for a year. 

I study his picture. He's not much older than me. Clean cut. Beaming smile. Bet it's hiding a lot of terrible deeds. Those kind of smiles always do.

It won't be for long though. Welcome back to the wild, wild west, asshole.

***

I sit in the Civic in the mansion carport and sort through the case file more thoroughly. Mark lives in Tempe, which one of those cities that pretends not to be part of Phoenix, but no one really cares. It's all one big sprawl of buildings and people.

I punch his address into my phone GPS.

Someone taps on the driver window. I jump and look up.

Silvia is staring at me, her eyes lifeless enough she might be a possessed doll.

I roll down the window. Before I can get a word out, she bursts into tears. Then she hurries around the front of the car and drops into the passenger seat. Her hair is frazzled, and black makeup streams from her eyes. 

Yeah, this is exactly what I want to deal with right now.

“I'm not going back in there,” she says around her sobs.

“Well, you're not staying at my place.” 

She glares at me. “My father owns that house.”

“Gee, thanks for the reminder, Silv.” I back the car onto the road. “What's got your hormones in a twist this time?”

Her tone is bitter: “My father has been sleeping around.”

Somehow, that doesn't faze me.

“Got tired of the Venus Flytrap, eh?”

Her head snaps up so fast I think she might actually strike. If she were in her natural form, she would be rattling her tail.

“These things happen.” I try to sound like I give a shit. “They'll probably go to counseling and fall back in love with each other's deplorable personalities. Or, your mom could get a boob job. That'll work too.”

Silvia replies, indignant, “He wants a son.”

“Ouch,” I say, without any emphasis.

“And you know what that means.” She lights a cigarette.

I shrug. “Maybe he just wants a son so they can go to Little League.”

“I wouldn't be laughing.” She puffs out smoke. “He could turn out more demanding than my father.”

“Maybe it'll be another girl, and then you won't have to worry.” I stare at the desert stretching before us, my mind a hazy mixture of nothingness.

Silvia scoffs. “He'll just keep trying.”

“That Doctor Glenn must've hooked him up. Maybe his heart will give out.” I grin at the thought. “They do always warn about it on the commercials.”

A little smile plays on her lips before she scowls and takes another puff. “Can't fertility doctors make sure it's a boy these days?”

I shrug. “Probably, but once Mistress Darkness—I mean, your mother—finds out, she'll castrate him. Problem solved.”

“She's already aware.” Silvia tosses her cigarette out the window. “She told me herself. He doesn't know she's onto him.”

“And the wholesome Walker family comes to an end.” I mentally wander through the different possible scenarios.