Chapter 27 #2
“You’ve told me you’re remaining indecisive on your future, which I respect. It’s hard to know what we’re doing from one moment to the next. But the past is more set in stone than we imagine it to be. So have you researched anything about yourself? Your family?”
“Some stuff. But…” Caspar blinked, still unsure what the proper answer was.
They had started looking up stuff to do with the El-Mohtar family, along with Qasim, but then Malek’s legacy had taken over—Odafin, All Trades, and Abe.
“Not too much, honestly. Malek says there’s a medieval folklorist that he knows, though. ”
“Frank?”
“I don’t think so. Isn’t that the guy who came to visit me while I was in prison?”
“It is,” Katja said. “But Chaz and I only figured that out when we were doing more research and went back over your prison log for visitors. Franklin Tsosie was interviewing you for his dissertation research, though, so it’s likely Malek is thinking of one of his supervisors.”
“Maybe. I’ll look into it. Promise.”
Katja smiled. “You don’t have to report to me about that, but I think it’ll be good for you. The only other person on your log consistently was Anthony Swanson, but we already know who he is.”
“Right, Anthony.” Caspar closed his eyes. He missed his friend with a sudden force. He wanted to know where he was and what he was doing. When he’d called and then hung up, it was possible that Anthony may not have known about Caspar’s death.
But now? Now it was definitely out.
Caspar remembered Anthony, hunched over and red-rimmed from crying, after his father had died.
It was so sudden and completely out of the blue—a car crash.
One minute Lawrence Swanson was walking across the street, and the next, someone ran a red light and broke his ankle.
While in the hospital, he had a stroke brought on by the trauma.
After Caspar found out, he and Anthony had bonded through those private meetings disguised as lawyer affairs.
They’d talked through the screen late into the night, exchanging parent stories.
“Remember when my dad hired us both for clerical work?” Anthony had asked.
They’d needed volunteer hours in high school, and tried to get them by reading the dirty information in people‘s files. Lawrence hadn’t even been mad when he caught them snooping.
Just showed them where the good stuff was.
“It was always so much nicer at your house,” Caspar had told him.
“Remember when my dad caught us in the Fine Foods basement?” Caspar had wanted to share stories of dads, even if his own father had freaked out when he and Anthony had tried restocking the store’s magazine racks—looking for dirty pictures, obviously.
But they’d gotten into the tax documents, not Playboy, and his father had acted like it was the end of the world.
“Well,” Anthony had said, stiffening at the recollection. “Now they’re both dead.”
Anthony‘s words had cut Caspar, but he’d let it go. Grief made people do and say a lot of mean things. When he’d left that day, however, Anthony had looked at him with anger, hurt, and fear in his eyes. In that moment, Caspar was sure Anthony believed he’d killed his folks.
And, really, Caspar did too.
“You okay?” Katja asked.
“I am… I just… My friend. I feel bad that I forgot about him.”
“It’s only been a couple days. And you haven’t really forgotten. The body never forgets. It always knows what you refuse to deal with. Stress and depression all have physical symptoms. It’s what I see the most when I work with the dead.”
“How exactly did you get that gig? Doesn’t seem like something you inherit.”
“It’s not. You have to be dead for a time period in order to get it.”
“You… do?”
“Uh-huh. A small walk into the underworld. See people. Talk to them. Very much like Frank’s dissertation, actually! He interviews supernaturals and then writes about it. I interview the dead ones and then use that knowledge to make magic. Why?”
“Just wondering,” Caspar said. He fidgeted with the bandage Katja put over his knuckles.
“Are you wondering if I ever saw your parents? Your family?”
Caspar nodded without making eye contact. When Katja answered no, it felt like a slap. Why the fuck did she even bring it up if she has nothing? It seemed too cruel.
“But I do have something for you.” Katja unhooked the locks on her briefcase and pulled out another box.
The occult symbols on her briefcase must have allowed it to defy the laws of physics, since Caspar was sure she could keep an entire planet in there.
She placed the wooden box on the table, unhooked the latches, and then turned so Caspar could see its contents.
Most of what was inside was still wrapped in plastic evidence bags.
Caspar caught a glimpse of a silver plate, a seashell comb, and a lamp encrusted with jewels before he raised his gaze.
“What is all this?”
“Your parents’ items. These were what made them into djinns, and what they locked up when they became ex-djinns.
They were also evidence at the crime scene, which we tested for spectral interference.
I figured, since that story was mostly closed, you’d like to have the items. Maybe they’ll give you some idea of what you want to keep as your own. ”
Caspar swallowed. The jewels he’d kept wrapped in silk in his jacket pocket warmed with love.
Katja stood without another word and allowed Caspar to explore his family’s legacy in private.
Caspar thought he’d cry if it wouldn’t hurt his chest even more.
This was so important, so monumental, he needed to appreciate every last piece.
But he wanted to share it with Malek.
Caspar spotted Malek across the room on the couch, attempting to text with his one good hand.
Caspar chuckled at the sight, and then bit his lip as his stomach jumped.
Was this love? Was it too soon? No, it wasn’t.
They’d already gone through so much. Maybe if he could stretch out the one thousand and one days to its full shelf life, they could really see if the love they had now, as djinn and semi-djinn, could last. Maybe they could both be in love while also serving others.
Maybe they could be in love without magic, on the run as ex-djinns.
Maybe, maybe, maybe. Caspar imagined both lives playing out in front of him.
They both had their pluses and their minuses, their pros and cons.
As much as Caspar loved that state of indecision, Katja’s words still echoed in his ears. Love is always a choice.
Caspar wanted to choose Malek.
Before Caspar could tell any of this to Malek, Katja stood in the centre of the room and raised her hand to get everyone’s attention.
“All right. Everyone appears to be all bandaged up and getting better by the second. I’ve done a sweep of the house for supernatural interference and have come back with nothing.
I have no clue why you all attracted gargoyles, but I think it’s something we can figure out over pizza.
Pizza solves everything, I think. Am I right? ”
A chorus of agreement filled the room. Katja smiled, pulled out her phone, and dialed the delivery number.
“I think I may know why the gargoyles attacked,” Malek said.
He placed his napkin on his plate and ran his good hand through his hair.
“It’s me. The microphone. Odafin must know I’m trying to get free, and put something on the mic to stop me.
That’s the only explanation as to why the gargoyles were there so fast.”
“But they kept asking for my eye, though,” Caspar said. “Not your mic. Sounds more like the Chaos Mages than anything.”
“Right. But you’re supposed to be dead, so how would they know it was you? The eye trick we did in the store? None of them were there to see that.”
“Weren’t they saying ‘prize’?” Natasha asked. “Not ‘eye’?”
“I heard both, honestly,” Caspar said. His stomach roiled each time he replayed the moment in his mind. The feeling of being tossed through the air and shaken out like he was an empty chip bag was too much. “I can’t lose my other eye. I refuse to be blind.”
“Whoa now,” Katja said. She placed a hand on the table and sent everyone a stern gaze. “We need to slow down. Malek. Why do you think it’s Odafin?”
“I… I don’t know. Odafin has left me alone for so long, I’m worried that my luck has run out. I’ve been able to stay with Jocasta, work for her for years, and not rouse any suspicion. But what if now that I’m collecting these items again, he realizes it and wants me to stop?”
“Hmmm,” Katja said. “It’s possible, but only if the world revolves around you.”
“What?”
“You’re one djinn among many, yes?”
Malek nodded. “My parents had many siblings who were also in debt to Odafin. And though most of my sisters were married off into other families, some stayed and worked, too.”
“So why are you important enough to track down?” Katja asked. “I mean, I think you’re fantastic, but I’m your friend.”
“And Odafin’s my patriarch. He was pissed at me for years. I tried to defy him—I did defy him. You can’t do that in the family without being taught a lesson. Abe and I tried to leave, and—”
“And Abe paid. So did Tariq. Their patriarchs took care of them, but your cousin Idris was in the band, and he was killed too. Odafin did shed family blood to teach others a lesson, and he made you pay with exile. Don’t think you got off scot-free because you’re alive, Malek.
Sometimes that’s the worst punishment of them all. ”
Malek took a long time to process Katja’s words before he spoke again. “Fine. I can believe that Odafin got his revenge. Maybe. But I’m just worried that now that we have the riddle with the clues to where the rest of the items are, someone else can replicate it and solve it faster.”
“Riddle?” Katja asked. She ate another quick bite of the veggie pizza. “What do you mean?”