Chapter 22
Malek was the first person awake.
As he crept down the hallway, he was careful not to disturb Natasha and William, who were both still snoring in a mess of blankets.
The balcony blinds had been drawn the night before, and only a sliver of early afternoon light bisected the living area.
Malek used his phone as a flashlight until he reached the kitchen, and then relied on the fridge light for guidance.
He held the door with his foot as he grabbed the lactose-free milk and sugary cereal from the top shelf, along with bowls.
Malek loved that Jocasta had thought to pack both sugary and healthy cereals in all the safe houses.
After bland prison food, only intense spice from curries and sugar from a knockoff version of Lucky Charms could set things right—plus maybe a couple dozen candy bars.
Once the bowl had the right amount of milk—Malek had to adjust a few times until it was perfect—he closed the fridge and ate standing up against the counter.
He skimmed through a bunch of new text messages as he ate marshmallow bits with delight.
Everyone from the bus has been accounted for but one person, Jocasta texted. Henri Bouchard. Former Chaos Cartel member. I’m pretty sure he was one of the guys who got Caspar’s eye and was transferred out. So… be careful out there.
Malek’s attention honed to a focused point. He ate the last two bites of his cereal, then frantically messaged Jocasta back. Really? Shit. Any idea where he went?
No. He seemed to disappear into nothing. We’re thinking he had a getaway car provided by the gang, but not even the intel from my inside sources is coming up with anything. I’ll keep you updated. How is Caspar?
Good, good. The jewels are under a spell, and he’s decided not to decide about his fate right now.
Really, huh? Very Bartleby. Does that reference still hold up?
Malek didn’t know what book she was referring to, but knowing Jocasta, it was probably something ancient or philosophical. Sure, sure, J. I get it. But, uh… I wrote you something last night. You haven’t replied.
Jocasta’s messages stopped. Malek scrolled up to reread his previous longwinded message asking about his freedom several times before his phone buzzed again.
No. I haven’t replied, Jocasta wrote. I read it, though.
Malek chewed on the inside of his cheek.
Was this it? A no-go on his adventure with the group, all because of something as silly and petty as his boss wanting him for another couple work shifts, magic intact?
This was like being a teenager and working at the gas station all over again—having his parents tell him it’d build character when all he wanted to do was go to shows and hang out with Abe.
Malek was about to give up and tell her that he’d stay on her payroll, which meant cancelling the impromptu scavenger hunt, but Jocasta added to her former cryptic message.
I’ve grown very attached to you, Malek, and now I don’t know what to say. I’m not good with goodbyes.
Malek’s heart swelled. Relief flooded his system.
Well, it wouldn’t have to be goodbye. Even if I became an ex-djinn, I’d still work for you.
I’m big and tall and tough. I could be great security.
And it’s a long shot that we’ll even find the right items without arousing suspicion from everyone involved.
What do you mean?
Well, we’re searching for a crown. It’s a bit of a red flag.
A tad ostentatious, maybe. But who else would wear it so well?
Malek laughed. The item did make sense on a practical level, and there was also the sentimental attachment.
Back when he and Abe were just starting the band, they were the tallest in their group.
When they walked together at night, Tariq always teased that they looked like the Twin Towers.
Not the Twin Towers, Abe would say back.
We’re castles. The imagery had stuck, and the band became a kingdom they could all rule.
That royalty easily shone through in the makeshift tarot cards.
Malek had been too nervous yesterday to look at all the cards, because they reminded him of the bad parts of his past. Now, though, they seemed more like the stuff of legends.
So. I know someone who might help, Jocasta texted, knocking Malek back into the present moment.
What do you mean? Someone who specializes in garbage from djinns?
No. Someone who specializes in riddles for those who are searching for something. You ever hear of the Sphinx?
No. Sounds like someone you would hang out with, though.
You should check her out. She lives in Toronto, the last I heard. Goes by the name Cassandra, mostly. Tell her I sent you. I have a couple favours coming my way.
And you don’t mind giving me one?
Not at all. We’re family. And I can only hope that when you’re free and acting as a bodyguard for some hotshot, you’ll remember me and still visit every so often.
I will, Jocasta. I promise you that. Malek held his phone tightly and waited for a response.
When all Jocasta sent was a winky face, Malek knew she’d probably gone back to paperwork, or was out searching for Henri.
She was busy, but she took the time to tell him he was family.
Malek breathed easier knowing that whatever came from the end of this trip, he could enjoy what he had now.
The state of maybe? Is that what Caspar called the bliss that came from being unsure?
And choosing to be unsure? Malek had never thought of choice in that way before.
Not as black or white—but grey. There were always more than two options to choose from.
There was an entire spectrum of choice, and choosing outside of what had been given to you didn’t mean you failed.
It meant you found something you needed.
Malek texted Jocasta his thoughts on this state of maybe and how it related to his feelings for her until he thought his thumbs would fall off.
He was sure her dark eyes would bug out from reading his extra-long text message—if she got to it today—but it was good for her to hear.
He needed her to know that he didn’t consider her in the same light as Odafin. He really did consider her family, too.
Malek muted his phone after he sent the message. Moments later, as he tried to slink back to Caspar’s room, William stirred. Natasha soon followed.
“What… what time is it?”
“Eggs and bacon time,” Malek said. “Unless someone is Kosher?”
“I’m Hindu,” Natasha said. “So no bacon for me. But I like eggs.”
“Then eggs and cereal for you. May I suggest the knockoff version of Lucky Charms?”
An hour later, Caspar rolled out of bed. His hair was messy and he didn’t bother to put on a T-shirt or pants, walking out into the kitchen in nothing but his boxers. He made a face as he surveyed the empty frying pan.
“What did I miss?”
“A lot of things. Malek is an amazing cook,” William said.
“You’re just used to eating hand-outs. I’m an okay cook.
” Malek rose from one of the IKEA chairs at the table where he and Natasha had been scrolling over news reports, building plans, and trying to find the location of the Sphinx.
In hindsight, Jocasta had given him very little to go on, but understanding Jocasta’s line of business helped to narrow down some of the information they’d gleaned from news reports on The Citizen’s Brigade website.
“Would you like some eggs?” Malek asked Caspar. “Or bacon?”
“Oh, no bacon for me,” Caspar said, and then furrowed his brows. “Or can I have bacon? I don’t know.”
“Well, I can tell you that I never did the Halal thing, even though my parents were like yours and practiced.”
“Huh. Well, I think I’ll still stick with eggs to be safe. Should ease into all these changes, you know? Oh, my God—wait. Are those Lucky Charms?”
Malek laughed. “The knockoff version, yes. The breakfast of champions, coming right up.”
While Malek cooked for both Caspar and William (who was on his third plate by now), he caught Caspar up on their plan to visit the Sphinx.
“Are you serious?” Caspar asked between bites. “The Sphinx?”
“Yeah, you know her?” Natasha asked. “That would make finding her location a hell of a lot easier.”
“No, but I swear there’s a card for her.
” Caspar set down his cutlery and picked up William’s deck from the coffee table.
He shuffled through them, bypassing all the All Trades cards, and finally flipped one over in the centre of the breakfast table.
A hairless cat was the main focus, along with the orb hanging from its collar.
The orb looked as if space had been emptied inside of it, like the cat held the universe.
Underneath the hairless cat were the words “Le Sphinx.” “Here.”
“Oh wow,” Natasha said. “Is that the…”
“Power source for a mage. A real one,” Malek said. “Shit. No wonder she owes Jocasta a couple favours. She would have needed help getting that. Damn. This has got to be her.”
“Wait. The Sphinx is a cat?” William said. “Oh, I don’t like the idea of talking animals. Just weirds me out.”
“Maybe she’s a shifter?” Natasha suggested.
She grabbed the deck from Caspar and went through the remaining cards until she flipped over a card with an old woman with bright red hair as the main focus.
Bug-eyed sunglasses covered more than half her face, and in spite of the bright lipstick she wore, the lines around her mouth and neck gave away her age.
She wore a tight blue top that said “EYE SEE YOU,” and tight black pants that seemed to be stitched with gold stars.
“The Sphinx” was written under her card.
“Well, this is confusing.” Malek plopped down at the table with another bowl of cereal for himself. “Is one card the French Sphinx and the other is the English one?”
“Maybe, but I like the shifter idea a lot more. Don’t you?” Caspar said, turning to Natasha and William.
William shrugged. “I don’t know. As long as I don’t have to talk to an animal like we’re in a warped Disney film, I’m good. And as long as I don’t have to pet that cat.”
“You’ll be fine. Just stay behind us and we’ll do most of the talking.”
“As soon as we know where to go.” Malek picked up both cards and surveyed the background for some hint as to where either Sphinx could be located.
He found nothing useful, only cacti in one image and random tall buildings in the other.
When he checked his phone, Jocasta hadn’t answered his last texts, and probably didn’t want to spill all the information on how Cassandra, or the Sphinx, had received her power.
“Natasha?” Caspar asked. “You haven’t said much.”
“I know. But I think I found something.” Natasha turned around an iPad she’d brought with her. All Malek saw at first was a list of properties, not that dissimilar from the databases he’d been checking earlier. “There’s a rare pet dealer right next to an apartment building.”
“So?”
“Look at who owns both buildings.”
“Oh,” Malek said when he saw the name. “Cassandra Delacroix. What are the odds that’s her? And that she lives in the building she owns?”
“Only one way to find out, really,” Caspar said. He stood and cleared the plates from the table while William gathered up the cards. He kept the two images of the Sphinx bookmarked on either end of the deck.
“If we have this,” William said, “we know what she looks like. We could find her or the cat, and then cash in your favour.”
“Sound good?” Caspar appeared by Malek’s side, ready to go.
“Looks like I don’t have much of a choice,” Malek said. “But you know, it beats anything else I had going on today.”