Chapter 13
Shit. Shit.
This was the last thing Malek needed. First he fucked up the transfer and released a bunch of prisoners who were still at large, and now Caspar was a pile of skin and bones on the front lawn of his former house.
This was not keeping a low profile. This was the exact opposite of that.
“Sir. Sir. Your friend. Is everything all right?” The woman with brown hair and dark eyes appeared by his side. Natasha. “We can call an ambulance for him, if you wish?”
“No! No, no.” Malek tried to smile. He could feel his father’s slower, molasses-thick words rolling off his tongue.
He never spoke his parents’ language, never even bothered to try, but he could hear the accent when he was upset or nervous, from the clicks between his teeth or the heavy sound to his vowels.
Don’t you dare become your dad—or worse, Odafin—right now. Don’t you dare lose your cool.
Malek took a breath and counted to ten before speaking again. “I’m fine, miss. Thank you. He’s a diabetic and just needs his shot and some air. Excuse me, can we have some space?”
Malek waved his arms around, shooing the crowd that had gathered.
Caspar’s face was exposed, his hoodie off his head, his face relaxed.
How much could they recognize? Malek’s heart skipped a beat when a woman held up a bobblehead of the Ghoul she’d purchased in the store and then examined Caspar again.
Malek slid his arms under Caspar’s body and lifted him as if he was no heavier than a feather.
Wasn’t prison food supposed to make people fat?
He’d need to get more groceries for Caspar if he wanted to bulk up and not wither away in the outside world.
Especially if he was going to make it a habit to faint on front steps.
“Get back, please. Get back.” Malek gestured with the one arm that wasn’t used to hold Caspar over his back.
Though Natasha seemed skeptical of Malek and his motives, she started to clear the crowd.
They all parted like Malek was really Moses, and he enjoyed the thought as he sauntered away from the house.
With Caspar so close to him—nearly skin to skin, since Caspar’s shirt had ridden up during his fall—Malek could feel his flushed skin and heartbeat.
Caspar was alive, but he was far from fine.
Hadn’t he been complaining of a headache all the way there? Malek figured it was the subway, the sun, and then nostalgia choking him, but what if something more sinister was following them around? Malek tried to wriggle for his phone in his back pocket, but Caspar groaned.
“I can’t. I won’t. Anthony…”
Malek placed a hand on the back of Caspar’s neck. “Shhh. It’s okay, Caspar.”
“Anthony? I miss…”
“No, not Anthony. It’s Malek.”
Caspar didn’t stir or say anything else.
Malek’s panic rose. He reached the end of the street without a problem, but realized he was too visible.
It would be odd, seeing a giant carry a man like he was his next conquest. The thought made Malek laugh as much as it turned him on.
He scanned the roads, the sidewalks, and then noticed the mosque parking lot.
He remembered what Caspar had said about the pathway to his house, and soon ended up in the baseball diamond.
He dropped Caspar on the home plate and sent dust flying.
“Shit. Shit.” Malek cleared it away and surveyed the area.
Nothing. No one. But something had made Caspar faint, and there were only so many causes.
An evil spirit—maybe of his parents? A cursed object?
Fuck, this wasn’t in Malek’s wheelhouse.
He knew endless amounts of djinn lore, including all the famous head honchos and their corresponding stories.
Odafin Jallo. Qasim El-Mohtar. Isa Zamil.
Even the Illustrated Man and his inspiring epic that had been left as an unfinished scroll was fresher in Malek’s head than whatever nonsense black magic could take Caspar out.
After his quick Google searching came up with nothing, Malek sighed. “Sorry, Katja,” he murmured as he dialed her number. “But I need you now.”
Caspar groaned on the ground. Malek crouched by him, touching his forehead—with the back of his hand, like Caspar had told him—and then his heart. “We both need you.”
“Thank you for coming.” Malek rushed over to Katja as she came out of the subway and marched in thick black heels toward the baseball diamond. “You’re an utter life saver.”
“I don’t usually get that compliment, so thank you. Is… he okay?” She made a face as she regarded Caspar, hunched over the home plate like some disgruntled baseball player. “I mean, I know he’s not okay, but, like, he’s got a pulse?”
“Yes. It’s faint, though. He’s breathing. Sometimes he mutters, too.”
“About what?”
“His old friend. His uncle, maybe? I’m not entirely sure. Sounds more like a dream than anything else.”
Katja nodded, taking all of this in. Malek tried not to notice the faint red lines around her eyes from crying. It was so odd to see someone as stoic and calm as Katja shed tears, but after losing her girlfriend of over four years, Malek understood.
“Thanks again for coming out. I know it’s hard”
Katja snorted. “Oh, don’t talk to me about loss right now.
I knew it would happen. That’s the hard part about being a necromancer.
When things start to decay, I’m the first to notice.
So Tatum and I could have never lasted beyond that point, because I know when endings are about to happen and it’s my job not to ignore them. ”
“I’m still sorry, though. I can be sorry, right?”
“Save the sorries for those who stayed dead. I’m, unfortunately, still here.”
“Not unfortunate.”
“True. I’m now one of the few necromancers who have journeyed to the darkness and made their way back!
Very good for business. Should put it on a new business card.
Just remove the part where my girl didn’t come back with me.
” Before Malek could put a hand on her shoulder, Katja blocked him expertly with her dark-clad forearm.
Then she revealed a set of perfect teeth in an almost magazine-like smile.
“It’s okay, I’m okay. I’m in therapy and she’s a literal witch, so I’m working wonders with these affirmations.
Love has many different forms, blah, blah, blah.
You don’t want to hear this speech, not when I have a job to do.
And besides, working is probably the best thing for me. ”
Before Katja knelt down by Caspar, she reached into her black blazer pocket and pulled out her phone. She held it up as if she was taking a video of the area, so Malek slipped behind her. On her screen, he saw a bunch of occult symbols, followed by Latin, come up and then change colour.
“There. The area’s been protected with a spell.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“No problem. But do me a favour and keep watch? We’re not exactly in a private space right now, and having a giant as a bodyguard would make people think twice about even looking over here.”
“Got it. That I can do. Everything else… I’m at a loss.”
“You know what to do in a lot more situations than you give yourself credit for, Malek,” Katja said, barely looking up as she snapped open her briefcase and started to examine Caspar.
In spite of her personal address at the end, Malek felt like she was quoting lines rather than talking to him.
He was out of his depth right now, and he was far, far more worried about his lack of understanding than he thought he would be.
So being the brute, if only for the next fifteen minutes, would make him feel better. It would make him feel useful.
Malek could feel the borders of Katja’s spell as he walked through it; it was like wandering through spider webs and feeling the traces against your skin.
Malek stood at the place where the dirt became grass from the park and kept an eye out.
His phone in his pocket was a heavy reminder of his failure, and he dreaded the next report to Jocasta.
Sorry, things got out of hand and our former murderer was recognized and attacked by some kind of spirit.
Oops. Live and learn, I guess. He was about to take out his phone and message Chaz, who Katja said had been working close by on the case, to see if they could work on solving something together when Natasha, the girl from the museum, wandered around the subway entrance.
Malek stepped forward, all of his attention focused on her.
Was she a siren? A changeling? Had she done this?
She walked around the climbing structure for the park and made eye contact with him.
She smiled. Malek didn’t return the gesture.
She held something about the size of a small shoe box in front of her, made of wood and with an ornate locking system on the top.
Caspar’s baseball hat was also sitting on top.
“What is that?” Malek asked when she stepped close enough to hear him. “What are you doing here?”
“Your friend. I know who he is.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t fight him. She extended the box instead. Malek held up his hands in a guarded pose.
“No, no,” she said, reaching out a hand. She must have felt a shock from Katja’s spell, because she also took a step back. “Don’t be afraid of this. Or me. I know I followed you here and I know this looks super creepy. Everything always looks super creepy when I do it.”
“So maybe you should revise your methods.”
“Yeah, maybe. But right now, I know your friend. I know his history, and I won’t tell anyone.”
“And what do you want me to do in return?” Malek asked. “In my experience, everyone wants something in return.”
She held the box out again with more urgency.
“Take this. It’s his. Not mine.” When Malek still didn’t move, she huffed and went on.
“I found it in the house. Under the floorboards when they swapped out the living room. I kept it under the stairs because I wondered if he was going to come back for it one day. I hoped he would. And, well, today he did.”
Malek’s hair stood on end. Caspar needed the box? Was that why they went today? Malek shook his head. “My friend came to the museum because I wanted to come.”
“Then fine. Whatever. My story still stays the same, but his can change if he takes this. So take it.”
This time, when Natasha pushed the box toward him, Malek stepped out of the spell shield in order to take it from her.
The box warmed in his hand, calming and familiar, like a lullaby only he heard.
His heart hammered. He knew this type of box.
He knew this feeling of belonging. The feeling would have been tenfold for Caspar… if he wasn’t human.
But Caspar was human. Right? Malek wasn’t so sure anymore. The other idea that swarmed inside his mind seemed too far-fetched to ever be real, even if he wanted it to be so.
“That’s it,” Natasha said. “That’s all I wanted to do. So… goodbye, I guess.”
“Goodbye.” Malek waited on the balls of his feet until he saw Natasha disappear around a corner. With a deep breath, he opened the box.
And proved his theory right.