Chapter 16 #3
“They wanted you. A family. The Canadian dream, like you said. They wanted to be normal. They wanted you to know normalcy. So they boxed up their trinkets with an enchantment and hid them well. But they put yours in a separate area. Maybe because they knew, in time, the head honcho would get them and they still needed you to be safe.”
Caspar nodded. His gaze went to his pie, then Malek’s. They were still holding hands, and Malek didn’t want to let go.
“When you went to the house that night, it’s likely the head djinn and his ilk were looking for what Natasha gave us today,” Katja went on when the silence was too much.
“These jewels were in the house, so we know that your parents put them there. If anything, you showing up saved your parents; last wish to keep you safe. But it’s evident they never told you a thing about your history. ”
“What would have happened if they had told me?”
“You would have had to make a choice. Be a djinn, or be normal,” Malek said. “But you can’t decide what you don’t know, so they spared you that decision.”
“Doesn’t sound like they spared me. Sounds like they confused me for years.
” Caspar pushed his plate away, letting go of Malek’s hand as he did.
He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head.
“I thought I was possessed for years. The headaches never went away. The sickness never went away. I thought it was me. That I really was evil. That I really had killed them and that I liked it. I thought—”
“Parents do things for their kids to protect them that really make no sense whatsoever, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t trying,” Chaz said.
“That being said, I still don’t have a relationship with my parents because of a lot of stuff they did under the guise of protecting me.
Sometimes too much knowledge alienates, and too little does the same.
It’s hard to know the balance. It’s hard to know anything when you’re winging it, which is really what all parents are doing. ”
Caspar made a petulant face. He scrubbed his hands over his cheeks, as if clearing an Etch A Sketch. His body seemed ten times larger, all limbs and tendons. He was a mess. “Ugh. This is ridiculous. So I’m a djinn but I’m not a djinn? Does this mean I have to make a decision right now?”
“I don’t think so,” Katja said. “Your body went into overdrive updating, but now it’s at a stalemate because you’re linked to Malek.”
“What?”
“What she means,” Malek said, shifting in the booth, “is that I’m bound to you.
The ring you wear means that I serve you.
And I started serving you before you knew any of this about your history, so you’re still a civilian.
Katja has given you some kind of pain concoction that will make the transition easier, and your head won’t hurt as much, and we’ll get someone—maybe Twigs—to lock down these trinkets so no one else gets a hold of them before you’re ready to make that decision. ”
“But after?” Caspar asked. ”When the wishes are done?”
“Then you’ll have to make a decision, yes. To be a djinn or to not be one.”
“But you said—you said that my parents were killed for not wanting to be djinns. Will I be killed too if I say no? If I don’t give this head honcho guy my most powerful item?”
“There’s a way around it,” Katja said. “It’s very, very difficult, though.”
“So what is it?”
“You become an ex-djinn. Like your parents, and like Malek for a while. But you must hide your items exceptionally well. You take them, personalize them, and then declare that you’re no longer party to this lifestyle with a special incantation.
You seal that with your items and then you walk away.
Tell no one where they are. And you live a normal life. ”
“A normal life?” Caspar asked, laughing. “So I can be that accountant Jocasta promised me I’d be?”
Chaz laughed, but soon silenced himself. “It’s shitty, we know.”
“You don’t know, though. The only person here who knows is Malek, and we’re not even facing the same head djinn, right?”
“That’s right. Maybe your patriarch has changed, though. It’s been awhile since I researched the red family, and—”
“So what? None of this matters. This makes no sense because both options are shit. I either grant wishes like a machine or I live my life on the run. How is that a choice? Jail was fucking better, because at least there they told me what I was and it meant something.”
Malek wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. He also didn’t want to spill anything about his own demons in front of Chaz and Katja.
Maybe they already knew; they certainly knew enough about djinns to facilitate most of this conversation.
So instead he flagged down the waitress to clear their plates.
“I think some beer is in order. What do you have?”
She listed the types, but Malek barely heard. He ordered four of the first kind for everyone. By the time she brought them over, the table had fallen into a haunting silence.
“I think we should make a toast,” Malek said.
“Why?” Caspar asked.
“Because toasts are like small spells that keep us going, you know? Belief is a tool. And if we think we’re going to come out of this with a better idea of what happened and as better people, then maybe that will be the case. We just have to decide that it is so.”
Caspar rolled his one good eye, while the glass one remained immobile in its socket.
Malek didn’t know how he could convince Caspar that there was something good about this lifestyle when so many bad things had happened to him.
And to me, too. With a trembling lip, Malek raised his glass and clinked it with Chaz’s and Katja’s.
“To the right choices,” Katja said.
Everyone else, including Caspar, joined in.
So maybe, Malek thought, there’s still some hope.