Chapter 20 #2
Malek chuckled before his gaze grew serious.
He placed a hand on the back of Caspar’s neck and pulled their mouths together fiercely.
Malek unbuttoned Caspar’s fly as they continued to make out over the bed.
After mere moments, Malek gripped Caspar’s waist and flipped him over, effectively switching their positions.
Malek’s dominance sent shivers down Caspar’s back.
He thought he’d come from the sheer ferocity in Malek’s gaze as he rubbed his face over Caspar’s still-clothed erection.
By the time Caspar’s erection was free of fabric, his jeans and boxers half-tugged down his thighs, his mind was a mess of colours and sensations.
Malek breathed against his dick, tasted the precome tentatively, and then sucked him whole.
“Fuck,” Caspar said. “Fuck. This is amazing.”
Malek mumbled—or maybe hummed—his reply.
He worked his tongue around the crown, reminding Caspar of the shape of Malek’s dick from the shower.
Caspar had gathered enough strength to mumble Malek’s name and ask for him to take off his pants so he could see his thick, uncut cock, when a knock sounded at the door.
They both paused, unsure if what they heard was real. When another knock sounded, all of Caspar’s fantasies came to a blinding halt.
“Was that—?” Malek asked.
“My nightmare.”
Another knock came, this time more urgent.
“Fuck me.” Caspar sighed. “Of course someone is at the goddamn door. Every single time we get close to each other, it’s like fate or—”
“Shhh.” Malek tucked Caspar away and placed a kiss over his mouth. “It’s not fate. It’s just poor timing. We’ll finish at some point.”
“We fuckin’ better. Be naked when I come back?” Caspar asked, grabbing a quick kiss. “Maybe?”
“Oh? Is that a wish?”
“No. Because I know you’ll do it anyway.”
“Fair. And probably true.” Malek laughed. “Now go get the door.”
William stirred as Caspar walked into the living area, but he was still out like a light. Caspar was impressed, but also saddened by this. William had probably been sleeping with one eye open since his brother went missing, racking up a hell of a sleep debt.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Caspar said sarcastically when the knocking persisted. “Jesus Christ, this better be good.”
Caspar opened the door without looking through the peephole.
Natasha stood on the other side, her arm poised to knock again.
Her dark hair was frizzy, as if she’d been stuck in a wind storm, and the end of her braid was a mess.
She still wore the black jeans and shirt from the museum, but masked the logo with a leather jacket over her shoulders.
Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying.
She seemed just as shocked to see Caspar standing on the other side of the door as he was to see her.
“Natasha? Why are you—”
“Caspar. Leonard Caspar Sherif.”
“Um—”
“I knew it was you. You have the jewels, right?”
“Um, yes, I do. Thank you.” Caspar saw no need to keep lying, especially when she’d found him here anyway. Caspar glanced down one end of the hallway, saw no one, and assessed the other. Clean. “How did you find me here?”
“There have been twenty real estate closings in the past few days since your death, and only one had the name Caspar involved on any kind of paperwork. It led me to this building, and the IKEA pick-up tag had this apartment listed, so now I’m here.
” She smiled, but it was weak. “I also got fired from the museum, so I was a bit mad at you. I may have searched too hard to yell at you. Now I’m here. ”
“And you’d like to yell?”
She shrugged. “I’m just tired now.”
“I’m sorry about the museum. Was it because you gave me the box?”
“Yeah. A bunch of people saw me remove it and then reported me for stealing. I probably can’t go home now, because I’m sure there are people looking for me. But I don’t care. I did the right thing. And anyway, I was only at that museum because I like you.”
“Oh. You… what?”
“I’m a big fan. I thought you were innocent this whole time, and I know I’m not the only one. There was a group of us who watched your trial and who petitioned for you to be exonerated.”
“You did?” Caspar struggled to remember Natasha.
Had she been in court? On the front steps?
Cameras weren’t allowed in Canadian courts, but there had been enough news coverage outside.
Caspar had always been blinded by the cameras and stared at the ground, but she could have been there. “I had no idea about the petition.”
“It was online. I thought your lawyer may have shown you, but maybe it was too late. Either way, I knew something big was about to happen when I recognized you. So I got the jewels. They are important, yeah?”
“They are. But we shouldn’t have this conversation here.
” Caspar glanced back into the apartment.
William was asleep, but he heard shuffling down the hallway.
Damn Malek. He was probably getting up because Caspar was taking so long.
Sure enough, three seconds later, Malek appeared fully clothed in the kitchen.
He tilted his head as he recognized Natasha.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” she said to Caspar. “I wanted to see if you were okay, though.”
“I am.”
“And you’re a genie.”
“Shush. We can’t—”
“Sorry. I know we can’t talk here, so invite me in?
” Natasha tried to exude confidence in her request, but her red-rimmed eyes made it difficult to believe.
Caspar wanted to tell her to get lost; if it had been him five days ago, he would have done so without hesitation, but a new kind of duty rolled through him.
He would never have known who he was without her help, like Malek would have never found his guitar again without William showing up.
So despite their methods, Caspar and Malek owed them something.
Was this what it was like to be a djinn?
You owed your life to random strangers for finding the pieces of yourself?
Was this what servitude was like—helping someone no matter how rude or strange or obstinate?
If it was, Caspar was sure getting good at picking up strays.
He opened the door with a sigh. “Come in. We have a growing list of visitors. This place may as well be Mecca.”
“Thank you so much.” Natasha nodded to Malek as she stepped inside and took off her shoes, easily making herself at home.
“So, I guess that means we’re all gonna be awake for a while?” Malek asked after greeting her with a handshake. “Should I make some more tea?”
When William stirred, that seemed to be all the answer they needed.
Caspar shut the door, locked it (only double-checking once), and went to take tea orders.
As the blueberry green tea steeped in an ornate pot, he encouraged everyone, as it seemed to be the day for origin stories, to tell theirs once again.
When Natasha was caught up, she elucidated her own legacy.
“I’m human. Boring, really. But I worked in a real estate office when your house was put on the market.
Since I had been watching the trial and the coverage, I knew it was probably going to be demolished since everyone thought it was cursed.
The market value was so, so low—so I convinced my dad to buy it.
Turn it into a museum. I know that seems weird.
I was aware my friends and I were the few people who thought you were innocent.
No one else did. But folktales pay. Legends pay.
My dad hired a bunch of people and we turned the place into an archive, but also a sideshow.
I suppose I know everything about you because of it.
Well,” Natasha said, reconsidering for a moment, “not everything, really, because I had no idea you were a djinn until years later. But I hid those jewels when I found them because I knew they were important. I knew there’d be a day like this where I’d get to meet you and tell you how much you’ve changed my life. ”
“I have?” Caspar asked. “I was a convicted murderer, though.”
“But you were innocent. I was sure of that—and I was right.”
“That’s still a huge gamble, though. And what you saw on the news was a story. Not the real me.”
“I know,” Natasha said. She set down her tea and curled her hair behind her ears.
“But you left your books behind. In your bedroom. Your writing and drawings were all there. I read them. I know that’s creepy.
I know it may be an invasion of privacy, but it gave me something to do when the trial was over and my friends all started families.
I worked at the museum and I read your old writing.
It made me feel better. That’s all I mean when I say you changed my life.
I have no idea what I’d be doing if it wasn’t for you. ”
“Well, um. I’m not sure what to say to that.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Natasha said. “Really.”
“Wait,” William said when the silence and Caspar’s awkwardness went on too long. “If your dad bought the museum, does that mean your dad fired you?”
“Yeah, pretty much. He had to, since people saw me take something, though they don’t know what exactly it was.
” Natasha’s voice warbled, which she tried to push past. “Besides, it doesn’t matter.
When I was researching the jewels and the real estate closings since your death, I realized the museum itself has gone back on the market. It’s going to close, no doubt.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. I guess you can’t have a museum dedicated to the Ghoul when the Ghoul is dead. The place had more power when the myth was alive and terrifying. I suspect they’ll keep the funeral tours for a while, then shut it down. Maybe within the next month? It’s hard to tell in real estate sometimes.”
“Fuck,” Caspar said. “Do you think it’ll be torn down?”
“Probably. The entire plot of land is worth more together. Which is why I’m even more relieved you came by, so I could give you the jewels. Who knows what would happen if the demolition crew found them?”